Joan Chen Brought Real Emotions to Dìdi’s Perfect Final Shot

As I delve deeper into the poignant narrative of “Chang Can Dunk,” I find myself profoundly moved by the raw, unfiltered emotions that permeate every frame. The characters, especially Chungsing, played by the captivating Chen, resonate with me on a personal level, as a fellow child of immigrants who has struggled to reconcile the expectations of my parents with the person I have become.


In the heartfelt finale of “Dìdi,” directed by Sean Wang, I found myself realizing that this film is far more than just the story of a 13-year-old’s growth in Fremont, California. The scene where Chris (Izaac Wang) and his mother Chungsing (Joan Chen) share a quiet moment at their kitchen table leaves an indelible impression. Izaac, eating a snack prepared by his mother, looks up at her, a mix of apprehension and nostalgia in his eyes as he recalls the little boy he’s quickly outgrowing. His mother, beaming with love and on the verge of tears, watches him back. This brief, wordless moment, lasting only about 45 seconds, was meticulously crafted by Wang, who spent an entire half-hour perfecting Izaac’s performance alone. Yet, it’s an image that lingers long after you leave the theater.

Wang explained during our Zoom chat that the particular scene is reminiscent of “Where the Wild Things Are,” specifically referencing the movie’s ending. In his film, this shot serves as a tribute to director Spike Jonze, who voices a deceased squirrel in the movie, for creating the film that Wang was the same age as fictional character Chris when he first watched it. This movie, according to Wang, played a significant role in fueling his passion for filmmaking. However, unlike Jonze’s film which only briefly touches on the protagonist’s mother, the scene in “Dìdi” sets up a much more heart-wrenching emotional impact.

In Chris’s summer vacation before high school, he doesn’t encounter any real magical beings (ignoring his hallucinations of deceased squirrels). Instead, he learns to block people on AOL Instant Messenger as a way to assert dominance, read about his friends’ emotions in their Facebook updates, and check his best friend’s MySpace top eight list to see if there are any disagreements. With his sister preparing to go to college, his grandmother gradually deteriorating physically, and his father being largely absent, Chungsing is the only consistent presence in Chris’s life, making him an easy target for self-definition. Chris disregards his mother’s Asian heritage, belittles her work as an artist, and during a heated argument, admits he feels ashamed to be her son. This moment of teenage harshness might explain the intense emotional impact of the film’s ending.

As a movie reviewer, I found myself captivated by the poignant performance of Chen in the film “Dìdi”. Initially, she had reservations about accepting the role due to her concern that she might appear too old to convincingly portray the mother of a 13-year-old. However, director Wang was determined to cast Chen, having been moved by a single scene from the movie “Tigertail” where Chen’s character reconnects with a lost love, played by Tzi Ma, over lunch many years later. Wang admired Chen’s deeply felt presence on screen.

Following their bitter argument, Chungsing confides in Chris that she occasionally imagines what her life could have been like if she had moved to America alone and pursued a career as an artist. This character serves as a contrast to Chen, who indeed migrated to the United States independently and achieved success as an actor. However, Chen doesn’t claim that artistic triumph would have simplified Chungsing’s life in any way: “There is no one correct path for anything,” Chen asserted. “There are countless instances of unintentional pain and things we wish we hadn’t said, things we should have said but didn’t. And it was all during the filming of that final scene.”

1. The essence of Chen in the movie seems almost ethereal, breathing life into an unfettered, boundless affection. Working with Chang Li Hua, Wang’s real grandmother who portrays Chris’s grandmother for her debut acting role, felt like water adaptable to any shape. Indeed, water is a fitting metaphor for her influence: a tranquil, potent force that swiftly fills voids and provides those around her with a platform to float upon. The character’s complexity offers a soothing respite from the fluctuating cultural fascinations with the stern image of the girlboss mother and the passive tradwife.

In the end, getting the perfect shot required an extended effort, leading Wang to substitute Isaac (due to child labor regulations) and step in for Chris in certain scenes featuring Chen. However, the person Chen was preoccupied with wasn’t the director or her fictional son; instead, she thought of her real daughters as tears fell. “That specific take just gushed out of me because, as a mother, especially during my children’s teenage years, we faced so many challenges and hardships, and I carried a lot of regret,” she shared. Filming this scene held additional significance since one of her daughters was on set lending a hand to the small crew. “It was all the love I wanted to express to my children and all the regrets that I felt at that moment.” The tears were unanticipated. “I’m not typically emotional, nor do I cry in front of others,” she clarified. “But for that particular shot, it was effortless.”

When the camera focuses on Chris, his expression towards his mother reveals a mix of shyness and innocence, reminiscent of a very young child’s gaze. The director may not have intended it, but there seems to be an undercurrent of uncertainty and fear in Chris’s eyes, a kind of apprehension he doesn’t quite comprehend. There’s a hint of embarrassment in the way he responds to his mother’s gaze, as if saying “who, me?”. Despite being her pride and joy, Chris yearns for the confirmation of his mother’s deep love, all while feeling overwhelmed by its intensity. In this instant, she transforms into a newly recognized version of mommy, the one you rush to, the one you call out for, yet remains an enigma, an adult woman he can never fully fathom, but who, mysteriously, is also his sanctuary.

I inquired about both the director and actor’s thoughts on what they want viewers to grasp from the movie’s conclusion. Wang expressed the idea that adolescence plays a significant role in shaping one’s perspective as an adult, even if we can’t express it at the time. He suggested that the final scene serves not just as an ending but as a prompt for people to reflect on their childhood experiences and relationships with their mothers. Chen, on the other hand, expressed a more straightforward wish: he hopes mothers will think about their roles and enjoy being mothers, while children will appreciate their parents more deeply.

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2024-08-19 16:54