San Jose is a "Fool for Love": A Second View of the Hit Film

Charlie Nguyen apparently plucked Dustin Nguyen right off of the lot of 21 Jumpstreet (seriously, has the man aged at all?) and gave him leading man status in the romantic comedy Để Mai Tính.  A collective squeal of delight is heard by thousands of members of the 80s after-school crowd who were always team-“Asian guy next to Johnny Depp.”  Well, Asian guy has big-screen appeal, or so hopes Charlie Nguyen.  Our erstwhile tv hero plays Dũng, a hotel clerk who has a meet-not-so-cute in the toilet stalls of the Movenpick with Mai (Kathy Uyên), a newly engaged beauty, former lounge singer, and recent sojourner abroad.  Fast forward some requisite bathroom humor and a few too many blue curaçao later and Mai and Dũng are locking eyes and lips under the salty Saigon air.

But Dũng is a lowly toilet cleaner better suited to daydreaming about becoming a hotel bartender and whiling away his time with images of (Fantasy-)Lan, a childhood crush that got away.  And Mai, though blessed with “sắc đẹp,” is soon dumped by her fiancé, finds herself jobless, and is once again destitute.  She relies on the kindness of friends to allow her back into the band she abandoned years before.  Mai has to “tính” her way back to solvency (get it?  Để Mai Tính).  Meanwhile, Dũng, in order to be closer to Mai, throws caution to the wind and follows her to Nha Trang where he puts some of his 21 Jumpstreet moves to good use to chase down a purse-thief and unexpectedly becomes a hero to cosmetics mogul and the film’s queer archetype Hội.  Hội invites him to be his man-servant/personal assistant and provides Dũng (and the film) with an excuse and a means to stay in Nha Trang to continue his pursuit of Mai. Hội is a strategically written character who continues the tradition of making queer representation “safe” by dint of turning excess and novelty into comic material. Though the character was meant to be the film’s comic relief, the actor Thái Hoà brought heart and subtle layers of melancholy to a role that could easily have been a representational caricature.  It is from Hội that Dũng learns to ask what real love is.  Dũng accepts that to truly love Mai from his impossible social position, he must want for her what she wants for herself.  Did you hear that Twi-hards?  Mai then must choose between the promises of a glitzy solo career, as pushed by her wanna-be Svengali Antoine, or the humble love of a lowly toilet cleaner.  Mai sheds a few tears reflecting on her hard-knock life as she justifies to herself why it’s ok to plan for her own future and ditch her band-mates.  Yes, it’s really hard to find love in Vietnam when everything has a price and you have to trade in on what you have.  Mai’s value is most explicitly stated as her talent and her beauty.  Hmmm… sounds kinda reminiscent of …. And that did not end well.

Anyhow, will Mai follow what the heart wants and be a Fool For Love?  Or will she let tomorrow come what may (get it? Để Mai Tính)?  Vietnamese punning aside, the film offers an abundance of laugh out loud moments to share with tweeners, parents, toddlers (as evidenced by the patter of mini feet all throughout the film in the theater), and curious ciné-philes.  Để Mai Tính aspires to be many things all at once.  Such is the nature of filmmaking that wants to show how viable Vietnamese cinema can be for a global market.  Nguyen has already shown that Vietnam can be a plausible backdrop for action films (Rebel) and now he moves his winning touch to the more risible rom-com.  Tapping into the rom-com market can be a cheesy affair (read puns above), but in this case, Nguyen embraces what makes audiences most delighted and amps these elements up for full effect.  For admirers of the uber talented Kathy Uyên, who has been a go-to actor for other Vietnamese diasporic films, check out the glamour-shot full on extreme close-up she gets towards the end.  We get it Charlie Nguyen, she doesn’t have any pores.  Got some Viet pride for Dustin Nguyen?  Check out the extreme close-up of his bare backside.  Nostalgic for the Vietnamese landscape?  Director Nguyen gives you sweeping shots of Saigon, Nha Trang, and Hanoi with aerial taken speed-boat shots to prove his music video making abilities for good measure.  Wish you could be a patron at some of the swankiest real estate in Vietnam?  Most of the film is shot at Movenpicks and Sheratons across the country.

For all the film’s success at box offices in Vietnam and Southern California, opening night in San Jose was a more muted affair.  I counted thirty people in my theater, two of whom were family members I ran into.

But laughter in the theater and applause at the end proved that audiences appreciated the endeavor and are willing to come back for more.  I did my part and came back for a second viewing the next night with two more friends in tow where apparently, word had caught on as the crowd was much bigger, the laughter more rollicking, and the decidedly Viet kieu squeals of recognition–“Vinh Pearl!”–more endearing.  Shout out to the Camera 12 in San Jose for supporting Vietnamese cinema in the bay area.

–Cam Vu