‘Lucky Lu’ Review: A Gripping, Moving Portrait of an Immigrant Gig-Worker’s Desperation and Resilience

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In my perspective, luck is an intriguing notion. While hitting the lottery may seem like good fortune, so does it ring true to say that when the bus, which could have ended my life, merely leaves me with broken bones instead, I’ve been lucky in a twisted sense. Lloyd Lee Choi masterfully explores this type of luck in his heartfelt and captivating novel, “Lucky Lu”. His characters face tough circumstances, narrow escapes, and close calls that don’t result in sudden wealth, but rather in the modest miracle of things not being even more dire. The star these characters must thank for their good fortune is a faint one, often hidden behind clouds and towering skyscrapers.

In New York City, Chinese immigrant Lu (Chang Chen), who works diligently as a delivery cyclist, doesn’t have much time to spare for looking around. For five years, he’s been away from his family in another country, but with the hard-earned money he’s saved, he can now afford a small apartment that his friend Bo Hao (Haibin Li) is giving him. With his wife Si Yu (Fala Chen) and daughter Yaya (Carabelle Manna Wei) set to arrive the next day after receiving their immigration papers, Lu’s demeanor shows a noticeable excitement. He gives them a virtual tour of their new apartment using Facetime. Yaya has heard that American families typically have dogs, so Lu shows her an empty and unplugged aquarium instead, promising her a fish instead.

In the midst of my daily life as a movie-loving spectator, I found myself drawn into a heartrending tale. Si Yu and Yaya were suspended in mid-air when the first shockwave hit: Lu realized that Bo Hao had swindled him, pocketing the rent and deposit money instead of delivering it to the landlord as promised. With a looming deadline for repayment or facing homelessness, his family’s fate hung precariously in the balance.

The second blow came swiftly, striking Lu when his last hope – his bike, the key to escaping his financial quagmire – was stolen during a routine errand. Desperate and destitute, Lu tried every means possible: pawning items, begging, cajoling, even resorting to petty theft himself. Yet, the relief he sought remained elusive.

Just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse, his family arrived on the scene. Now, I was left wondering if this movie-like drama would find a happy ending for our troubled protagonist.

Lu, intent on concealing his troubles from others, except Yaya who seems more perceptive than he thinks, navigates a frantic journey through New York with his serious-faced daughter in tow. This adventure, marked by adversity, becomes something of a test for him. However, as the situation intensifies, Choi’s empathetic screenplay ensures that even those individuals who cause harm to Lu are not portrayed as villains, but rather as fellow sufferers under a system that exploits them by setting them against each other. Even Bo Hao, the one Lu eventually locates, is shown to have betrayed him out of necessity to cover his gravely ill mother’s medical expenses. “Did you know they charge for ambulances here?” he laments sadly.

In Norm Li’s photography, there’s a harmonious fit to the overall mood – neither idealizing nor degrading Lu’s surroundings. His artistic style complements Brendan Mills’ skillful editing, transitioning from the frenetic, rapid-fire footage of the initial segments to a more pensive, introspective latter half as Lu’s journeys become longer and more leisurely, with fatigue becoming evident. However, amidst this somber tone, there are moments of poetic beauty. For instance, in one poignant scene, we follow Lu while Auntie Yang’s reminiscences are narrated in voiceover – she recalls their close bond and Lu’s transformation upon arrival, his dream to open a restaurant that eventually failed. This revelation gives insight into the stern, emaciated, chain-smoking Lu, who seems to be driven by self-punishment due to the guilt of past failures and regret for allowing himself to harbor such grand dreams.

Lu’s compelling portrayal can be attributed to Chang Chen’s subtly powerful performance, an actor renowned for his roles in films directed by Edward Yang, Ang Lee, Hou Hsiao-Hsien, and Wong Kar-Wai. Despite the opportunity to use his prestige to boost the indie appeal of “Lucky Lu,” he refrains from any self-indulgent acting. Instead, he deeply immerses himself in the character, a man who scarcely allows himself to be human, let alone contemplate his fortune. For individuals like Lu – workers, strivers, dreamers with little time for dreams – luck is often more of a relative concept, seldom a stroke of good fortune, but at best a temporary respite from hardship. At times, it’s just a fleeting moment of grace amidst chaos, such as when a beam of sunlight briefly lights up a small room where everyone you cherish is safe, and for that brief instant, you feel like the luckiest person alive.

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2025-05-21 21:17