Being a teenager was hard enough, back in the day. Foolishly rash or lamentable behavior was seen only by a gaggle of kids in the school corridor, or perhaps everybody in a single classroom.
In this social media era, the entire world becomes witness. How’s that for pressure?
Writer/director Jingyi Shao makes an impressive feature debut with Chang Can Dunk, an engaging coming-of-maturity saga that focuses on the title character, sensitively played by Bloom Li. He’s a 16-year-old member of his high school marching band, who allows himself to be goaded into an impossible challenge.
Shao obviously remembers his own teen years; this saga of teenage angst, peer pressure, popularity and “fitting in” is equal parts motivating, aw-shucks endearing and wincingly embarrassing.
Band members have been branded high school nerds ever since their uniforms became de rigueur, and that hasn’t changed in the 21st century. Chang’s social circle therefore is quite small, limited primarily to best friend and fellow drummer Bo (Ben Wang).
The story begins on the first day of Chang’s sophomore year, which he has spent the entire summer envisioning will be far superior to the one before. He’s desperate to be liked, and considered cool; to that end, he has made himself over with a new haircut and wardrobe.
Bo, comfortable in his own skin, is puzzled by this transformation. He couldn’t care less if he’s viewed as a dork; he’s clearly playing the long game (and likely will wind up CEO of the company that employs some of his condescending school mates).
Besides which, and much to Chang’s disappointment, it quickly becomes obvious that he’s still viewed the same as before.
Matters are worsened when a new student, Kristy (Zoe Renee), joins the band’s drum unit. Chang’s crush is instantaneous, and the feeling initially seems mutual … until Kristy also is noticed and pursued by Matt (Chase Liefeld), the high school basketball star. Wanting to be admired for the same reason, Chang rashly bets that he can dunk a basketball by Homecoming, 11 weeks away.
Chang, it should be mentioned, is 5-foot-8.
The height limitation notwithstanding, basketball has been a strong influence; his room is graced with some NBA posters, and Chang is guided by a solid sports mantra: “Every obstacle is an opportunity.”
Even so, he has no idea how to prepare for such an achievement. Desperation prompts an online search, where he finds motivational “basketball whiz” Deandre (Dexter Darden) … who, Chang is dismayed to discover, makes a living as a shopping mall cell phone salesman. But Deandre nonetheless concocts a respectable training regimen (which is equal parts clever and hilarious).
Bo, in turn, applies “Michael Bay-quality” filmmaking technique to what becomes an ongoing podcast of Chang’s progress.
All of this is viewed with bewilderment and dismay by Chang’s mother, Chen (Mardy Ma), a Chinese emigrant divorced from his father, who works full-time as a nurse in the local hospital. She strongly feels that Chang should focus on his studies, and maintain his commitment to after-school volunteer work at the hospital; alas, his head is miles away.
Their relationship thus becomes strained, and yet it remains this story’s key dynamic. We feel for Chen; her instincts are sound, and of course she wants what is best for her son. Ma’s performance is quietly heartbreaking; Chen obviously works long hours and double shifts, in order to make ends meet, and therefore isn’t present often enough to monitor Chang’s activities.
She’s perpetually dog-tired; merely noting Ma’s sagging posture, and drawn expression, makes one feel similarly exhausted.
In fairness, Chang usually understands the expectations of his role as a dutiful son … but, for at least the next 11 weeks, he chooses to ignore them.
More’s the pity.
A lesser story would build solely to the anticipated climactic moment, during Homecoming. But Shao has far more on his mind, and that particular event hits slightly past this film’s halfway point.
After which, things get a lot more interesting.
Darden, a former pro basketball player turned actor, is a total hoot; he has well-timed stand-up chops, and imbues Deandre with an easygoing, sparkling presence. No surprise, then, that Chang finds him inspirational. Anybody would.
At first blush, Kristy seems merely flirty and adorable: certainly the sort of girl who would leave Chang pie-eyed. But Renee’s performance soon goes deeper; her gaze is measured and perceptive, and she’s far better able to assess Chang, than he can himself. She’s concerned and tolerant … to a point.
The film’s emotional heft, though, rests on Li’s shoulders. Chang must remain sympathetic, even when his behavior is less so. To his credit, Li is always persuasive, whether Chang is frustrated, arrogant, regretful, despairing or repentant. He feels like a real teenager, and that’s equally true of Wang and Renee: an important detail, when too many so-called “teen films” feature actors clearly in their mid-20s.
It’s also refreshing, at a time when representation has become so important, to see that the key protagonists are characters of color, whereas the story’s closet thing to a villain — Liefeld’s Matt — is a white guy. Actually, it really isn’t fair to call Matt “evil”; he and Chang used to be friends, but more recently they’ve simply embarked upon different paths.
The story’s social media elements are incorporated cleverly, along with occasional bits of colorful overlaid animation that emphasize telling moments of happiness or sadness, success or failure. I admire Shao’s restraint, with these touches; other teen-oriented films have overused them to the point of distraction. Here they help the story, rather than hinder.
This film’s winning nature notwithstanding, it remains a modest effort that’s unlikely to make cinematic waves. But viewers who give it a try, are in for a pleasant surprise.
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