Tigertail

“The lack of dimensionality given to Angela’s story weakens the potential impact of Tigertail.”

Title: Tigertail (2020)
Director: Alan Yang 👨🏻🇺🇸
Writer: Alan Yang 👨🏻🇺🇸

Reviewed by Mimi 👩🏻🇺🇸

Technical: 4/5

The trailer for Netflix’s Tigertail promises a nostalgia-laden immigration story, jumping from the bucolic tranquility of Taiwan’s countryside to a sultry, 1970s-rock-infused Mandopop track that accompanies a young couple dancing at a bar, before transitioning to the somber reality of a broken family in New York.

For his debut feature, Master of None co-creator Alan Yang found inspiration in his father’s journey to America. The fictionalized retelling alternates between past and present, between the protagonist Pin-Jui’s impoverished upbringing under martial law, as portrayed by Taiwanese actor Hong-Chi Lee, and a comfortable if lonely life in retirement seen through Tzi Ma’s nuanced performance. It’s Ma’s rendition of an older man with disappointments that carries the emotional weight of the film, while the Christopher Doyle-worthy cinematography by Nigel Bluck (True Detective) and production design by Amy Williams (Little America, Master of None) visually entrance the viewer. In further homage to the past, Yang has cited not only Hong Kong director Wong Kar-wai as an influence but also Taiwanese New Wave filmmakers Edward Yang and Hou Hsiao-hsien, whose distant shots, long takes, and narrative time jumps have all been sampled and remixed in Tigertail.

But perhaps more than anything, Tigertail feels like an extension of Master of None’s much-lauded “Parents” episode, for which Yang won an Emmy Award. Both conflicts revolve around a father’s strained relationship with children who don’t understand him. With more time for exploration, Tigertail’s trailer and first half sets us up for a reckoning; Pin-Jui’s wife Zhenzhen (Fiona Fu, who plays the older version) accuses him of being “broken inside” right before she leaves him. Similarly, audiences wait to understand what has shattered Pin-Jui, knowing it has something to do with choosing to get married out of filial obligation over love. Despite the build-up toward some kind of internal transformation, however, the anticipated catharsis never materializes. We observe tears being shed at the last possible second, but little else in the lead up that might otherwise provide insight into this man’s lifelong regret.

Gender: 3/5
Does it pass the Bechdel Test? YES

The consequences of Pin-Jui’s fateful decision ripple outward, affecting his immediate family. Reminiscent of Wong’s In the Mood for Love (2000), Tigertail cuts back and forth between different characters’ points of view, illustrating that there are indeed two sides to every marriage. When the young Pin-Jui and his new wife Zhenzhen (played by Kunjue Li) first immigrate to New York City, we witness their respective suffering: his thankless job at a local deli and her palpable loneliness. Zhenzhen eventually befriends another Taiwanese wife in the neighborhood, with whom she can commiserate about immigrant life and confide in about her aspirations to become a teacher.

The present-day narrative focuses on Pin-Jui’s relationship with his daughter rather than his son, who is mentioned but never appears. Angela (Christine Ko) absorbs the brunt of her father’s grief following his mother’s funeral in Taiwan, which he attends alone off screen. Despite her attempts to engage him, he remains emotionally distant. In response to her father’s coldness, Angela reacts with a simmering anger, though it’s not entirely clear what has caused such hostility. A flashback to a disappointing piano recital during Angela’s childhood reveals some clues. But they are only hinted at, as are her troubles as an adult, which include working too hard while her romantic relationship suffers. We get a glimpse of her fiancé when he finally moves out, but we never hear why they break up. The writing and editing choices force the viewer to do a lot of work to fill in the gaps throughout the movie.

There’s a moment later in the film when Angela walks down the street alone, while her father does the same thing elsewhere in the city. As if moving toward each other, the mirrored images suggest that a journey to (re)connect lies at the heart of the film. But the lack of dimensionality given to Angela’s story weakens the potential impact of this outcome. Her character primarily exists in relation to Pin-Jui. Unlike the film’s treatment of her mother Zhenzhen, Angela’s own motivations remain under-explored. As a result, her role feels more like a stand-in that could have been written as a son or daughter, rather than a fully developed female character.

Race: 5/5

It is Pin-Jui’s arc that presents us with the most substance. Lee brings a mix of wide-eyed innocence and mischievous charm to the character’s younger self. He counteracts the hard knocks of his life with spontaneity and whimsy, whether grabbing the hand of his girlfriend to run out on an unaffordable restaurant bill or surprising his new wife with a miniature electric organ. His impish tendencies all but disappear as the time wears him down (although a spark briefly reemerges when Ma, as a middle-aged divorcé, attempts to flirt online). These lighthearted scenes contribute to a more complex character than the stereotypical Asian father Pin-Jui may otherwise resemble. Furthermore, the resistance to a tidy, happy ending seemingly questions the American Dream, offering a slightly different spin on the usual immigrant narrative.

Mediaversity Grade: B 4/5

As much as I admired the film’s restraint, I found myself wishing to see more of the messy underbelly driving these characters. “There are many things I never told you,” Pin-Jui concedes to his daughter. Likewise, the film heavily relies on omission to generate tension. Tigertail leaves us with an affecting mood piece, but perhaps Yang’s story of parental reconciliation isn’t yet complete.

Like Tigertail? Try these other titles featuring East Asian immigrant dads.

Grade: BLiApril 17, 2020Great for: Race