No Laughing Matter
Hong Kong social drama alert! Amen Au turns a spotlight on how we regard the mentally challenged. Hint: Poorly.
Stand Up story
Director: Amen Au • Writer: Amen Au, Lou Shiu-wa, Ng Hoi-man
Starring: Ben Yuen, Ng Siu-hin, Ng Wing-sze, Yuen Siu-fai, Chan Lai-wan, Joman Chiang
Hong Kong • 1hr 44mins
Opens Hong Kong September 14 • IIA
Grade: B-
It should be noted there’s hardly any stand-up comedy in the decidedly dramatic Stand Up Story | 說笑之人, the latest demonstration of the Hong Kong film industry’s new position as the go-to source for squishy, sentimental, egregiously inoffensive “social dramas” loaded up with messaging about being kind, and tolerant, and doing your best, and living your dreams. Stand Up Story isn’t bad so much as it’s aggressively poignant in its wholesome morality, and (fantastical, especially in Hong Kong) spirit of understanding and acceptance of the disabled. It feels like a directive from actor-director Amen Au Cheuk-man (The Gigolo, The Sparring Partner) rather than a film. And yes, I know anyone saying these are bad or somehow invalid ideas is going to sound like an asshole, but when was the last time you got excited about a lecture? I’ll wait.
Ng Siu-hin (It Remains) plays Manny, a food delivery dude who graduated from university in the middle of The Pandemic and who harbours dreams of a career in stand up comedy (yikes, tough gig, kid). He takes a crack at it every so often at an open-mic kind of place, alongside pal and obvious romantic interest May (Ng Wing-sze, Mad Fate), who is indefatigable in her efforts to be funny. Manny lives with his mentally disabled father Chim Ka-wah (Ben Yuen Fu-wah, continuing his late-career renaissance), which they have since his mainland mother (Joman Chiang Cho-man, Amos Why’s Napping Kid) ran away as soon as she got Hong Kong residency, leaving Wah a single father on a blue collar salary. Manny’s ping-ponged between over-protective and occasionally embarrassed most of his life, while Wah has spent his just trying not to be noticed. Now working at a restaurant run by his the Headmaster (Yuen Siu-fai), his old boss at the school where he was janitor, he’s reluctant to try a new job in the kitchen for fear he’ll make a mess.
Very little comedy, no standing
There are some interesting themes running beneath the saccharine surface of Stand Up Story. Manny fears failure so intensely it’s preventing him from even trying to make a go of comedy (admittedly extremely difficult in Hong Kong), and his awareness of his father’s mild mental disability is smothering – of Wah. Headmaster sums it up when he wonders aloud if it’s really strangers or Wah’s own family that are discriminating against him. By setting the film during the height of Covid (and post-NSL) it contextualises Manny as just one of many – fresh grads with no confidence they’re heading towards any kind of future. Now more than ever Hongkongers need a place to channel their anxiety, the film also says, with Wah as the poster boy for loneliness and isolation. He’s had a lifetime of it, though you wouldn’t know it from the determined, chipper optimism that guides him.
Co-screenwriter Lou Shiu-wa (Hong Kong Family) packs a lot into the slim running time (by modern standards at least), and you’ve got to give credit where it’s due. Some of the dialogue is expository (duh) but most of the script is efficient in is revelatory sketches, and while it’s not comical, it’s not purely dry drama. Wah’s odd friendship with Auntie Four at the diner is one of the stronger points, one that gives us a chance to see Wah as a living, breathing human who, despite what Manny thinks, is able to make his own decisions. He’s not the helpless flower his son thinks he is. Similarly he’s not unfeeling, and Wah’s initially futile foray to buy himself a nice suit for his son’s graduation ceremony – a proud papa moment – is a graceful way to encapsulate how easily he can be disregarded, even by his own child.
But Lou and Au (along with Ng Hoi-man) lay it on pretty thick otherwise. Manny has his moments of exasperation but he’s rarely less than the perfect son: patient, caring, appreciative. And if Manny is painted in near saintly strokes then Wah borders on holiness. His disappointments are meant to cut like a knife, and when Manny mines their lives for comedy material (a concept only skimmed over) to Wah’s discomfort the filmmakers are practically demanding we reach for the tissues. This would piss me off quite royally under normal circumstances, but tucked inside the basic filmmaking are Ng and Yuen’s performances, which lift Stand Up Story way, way, way above its station. Ng was the most empathetic of the quartet that got slaughtered in It Remains, and he gave his desperate try-hard a recognisable sheen of insecurity. Here he’s a little overly-sweet but he’s got tremendous chemistry with Yuen. Now, that may be down to Yuen himself, who can add Wah to his recent list of damn-the-torpedoes performances (Tracey, Suk Suk, Shadows) that make movies better by his mere presence. That suit scene? Even my cold, black heart was warmed by his understated disappointment. And don’t even with the hooker who becomes a very brief surrogate for his long gone wife. It’s all in the service of making us see Wah, and all the people like him, who go unseen on a day-to-day basis. Facile? Yes. Manipulative? A bit. But if you’ve got a soft spot for Hong Kong’s emerging kitchenette basin social drama genre, Stand Up Story will fit the bill nicely. Needless to say, “stand up” carries a dual meaning, so anyone looking for a laff riot? Y’all best move along. This one’s not for you. — DEK