Blue Bayou
FOCUS FEATURESA film that feels familiar as well as completely new is a rare experience. Blue Bayou reaches and nearly gets there. Early on, there is a scene reminiscent of Ken Loach’s working-class character studies: a young man is in the middle of a job interview, seated against a wall with his seven-year-old daughter. The interviewer is never shown, and once he brings up the young man’s criminal record, it is clear he will not get hired. Crestfallen, he and his daughter leave.
This, however, is the least of Antonio LeBlanc’s (Justin Chon) problems or an indication of just how precarious his situation might be. It is not only revealed that the little girl who adores him is not his biological daughter, but that he is an outsider in more ways than one. He has no blood relatives. His past is blocking his efforts to support his family. He is profiled by local police for being Korean – in particular, his wife’s (Alicia Vikander) ex-boyfriend, Ace (Mark O’Brien), and his overeager partner, Denny (Emory Cohen). Nevertheless, most of all, he is unaware that he is not a U.S. citizen. Since his adoptive parents never filed the paperwork to naturalise him, he is on the verge of being deported.
This conflict is one of many at the core of Chon’s third directorial effort. Like his previous output, Gook and Ms. Purple, this film unflinchingly wears its heart on its sleeve. Considering its context and message, that heart is definitely in the right place. On the other hand, it is a reminder that sometimes less is more. Blue Bayou has several subplots that detract from Antonio’s pending deportation – a shame, since that dilemma is what makes it unique.
The results do not suffer from a lack of trying. Matthew Chuang and Ante Chang’s cinematography is gorgeous to look at, lensing a New Orleans that is awash in cool blues, soothing purples, and vivid greens. Another strong point is how Chon never falters about his ambition and execution, but the means for getting there is where scenes fall apart or slip outside of reality.
For one thing, the world of Blue Bayou is populated with flawed characters but easy to root for. They are also more than familiar, as well as the tropes that inform their behaviour. An example of this is the long-suffering cancer victim Parker (Linh Dan Pham), who befriends Antonio and takes him under her wing. Parker’s need to establish a friendship and devote so much time to him is without a clear motivation or explanation, and like several other tangents in the film, does not completely pull into focus or resolve itself.
This and other subplots distract from the film's core relationship early on: the loving rapport between Antonio and his stepdaughter Jesse (Sydney Kowalske). There are some pieces tentatively put in place by the ending for an emotional climax, but once it gets there, it does not feel fully earned. The father/daughter relationship has been lost in the middle of other setbacks and crises, and in its place is a memorable sequence that aims to pack an emotional wallop but falls short. The end does not justify the means in Blue Bayou, which is not only another rarity but a shame.