Blue Bayou

This poignant, powerful family drama eventually slips into melodrama but, thanks to standout performances, remains an important and authentic immigration narrative. Chon continues to center Korean American perspectives in his films by tackling a little-known group of people: international adoptees who aren't technically citizens because their adoptive parents (and adoption agencies) failed to properly file the paperwork. Chon purposely doesn't make Antonio perfect. Yes, he has a nonviolent criminal record (which is the reason he's fast-tracked for deportation), but he's so much more than that. He's a loving, thoughtful, and playful stepfather to his beloved stepdaughter and a doting husband. The first half of Blue Bayou feels very naturalistic, with scenes of domestic life that almost seem improvised (particularly all of Chon and Kowalske's moments on-screen).

A story in which class and race intertwine, Blue Bayou veers a bit into melodrama once Antonio is beaten and arrested. Cohen's cop character, Denny, delights in being sadistic, believing himself untouchable thanks to the thin blue line. O'Brien's Ace, however, is portrayed and written with more nuance. But the film's best supporting character is Parker, a stranger who pops into Antonio's life a couple of times (asking for a tattoo on a day that he's particularly desperate for a client) and quickly becomes a maternal figure. Phan is luminous in the role, exuding the warmth and tenderness that no one else shows Antonio but Kathy and Jessie. Vikander is nearly unrecognizable as Kathy, a wife whose sole purpose is to keep her family together. This isn't an easy film to watch; it's heartbreaking at times and a tad heavy-handed in others. But it's also another example of Chon's gift for asking audiences to empathize with his characters.