I, Tonya

"Good artists copy; great artists steal". It's a fairly well-known saying that speaks to the way art evolves over time as the innovations of influential artists seep into the work of those who come along later, but it's worth breaking down what exactly the phrase means by "steal". Mimicry or simple replication isn't enough; you have to make something your own in order to steal it, add your own unique spin or use it in a particular way that stamps your name on it, and that means that I, Tonya – a biopic whose style was quite clearly heavily influenced by the work of Martin Scorsese – doesn't qualify as an act of theft. Appropriately then, it also doesn't qualify as great art – merely quite good.

At the very least it's a vast improvement over the pale Scorsese imitation that David O. Russell has been doing for the last few years, thanks in large part to director Craig Gillespie's much firmer grasp of how to make the particulars of this style – such as the fourth-wall breaking narration, or the eclectic soundtrack – work on-screen. But just as important to why I, Tonya works where films like Joy don't is the simple fact that the story of disgraced American figure skater Tonya Harding is actually worth telling and well-suited to this style of film-making, hitting all the required funny, sad and tense beats as it focuses on a number of vibrant, almost larger-than-life characters who you actually want to learn more about and see interact with one another.

And I, Tonya certainly delivers there, making the decision to spend the bulk of its running time not on the incident that Tonya Harding is now mostly well known for (her alleged involvement in the attack on rival figure skater Nancy Kerrigan) but on the relationships that define her as a person. You've got her relationship with her neglectful at best mother, a cold and uncaring figure who pushed her to be a great skater no matter the cost; her relationship to her abusive and at times downright psychotic husband, who I, Tonya posits as the main reason for Harding's eventual downfall; and her relationship to the world of figure skating, the gatekeepers of which never wanted to give a redneck, working class girl a fair shot. It's a good script that knows when to focus on which relationship and gives equal importance to all three, but what really elevates I, Tonya from being an OK Scorsese-lite into a film that's genuinely worth seeing are the truly great performances given by Sebastian Stan, Allison Janney and especially Margot Robbie, who I simply didn't think was capable of this kind of powerhouse performance. Needless to say, her Oscar nomination for Best Actress was incredibly well-earned it was just a shame she was pitted against the phenomenal Frances McDormand who obviously took the win.

But it's also worth keeping in mind that without lead performances this strong, I, Tonya probably would've been all but forgotten about quite quickly. It might be a good Scorsese impression, but it's still just an impression, never living up to that from which it takes so much and at times feeling oddly forced in its execution. Sure, it's entertaining when these character break the fourth wall in order to talk to the audience, or when the actors play older versions of their characters giving interviews, but neither of these quirks appear consistently enough for them to feel like a natural part of this film when they do show up, and there are a few scenes early on that quite badly misjudge if the events happening on screen should be portrayed for comedic effect or not. Funnily enough, I, Tonya's best and most memorable scenes end up being the ones least like the kind of thing you might find in a Scorsese film, Gillespie dropping the film's borrowed aesthetic in order to simply capture a moment, whether it be an extravagant, monumental victory on the ice or a quiet scene that sees Harding break down as she applies her make-up. This is what Gillespie needed more of to truly make I, Tonya his own - not fake clips of fake interviews or era-appropriate needle-drops, but varied emotional moments that genuinely resonate with the audience.

And yet in spite of its easily identifiable shortcomings, I still really enjoyed I, Tonya for what it is – a mostly quite well-directed film telling an interesting story that's bolstered by a handful of performances so good that they'd make it worth seeing even if the rest of the film was outright bad, which it isn't. Yes, it's a touch overly derivative and at times stumbles in its attempts to replicate the films that it's quite obviously influenced by, but it's also still a really entertaining couple of hours that I can't see many people walking away from disappointed.

Always Be My Maybe

Written by Park, Wong, and Michael Golamco, and directed by Fresh Off the Boat creator Nahnatchka Khan, Always Be My Maybe is of a class with Set It Up and To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before in that it’s charming and, for the most part, middle of the road. The story of childhood sweethearts given the chance to reconnect after drifting apart hits every beat it needs to.

Ali Wong stars as culinary superstar Sasha Tran, who puts her glitzy Los Angeles lifestyle on pause to return to her native Bay Area to open up a new restaurant. But while on this three-month excursion, a temporary detour ahead of her impending nuptials (to Daniel Dae Kim as her pretentious fiancé), she bumps into Marcus, played by Randall Park, her childhood bestie who was also the guy she lost her virginity to in the back of his Corolla. Wong and Park also co-wrote the script with Michael Golamco. To Sasha’s surprise, Marcus is still driving the same car, living in his dad’s house, and playing in coffee shops with his high school band. It’s like time has stood still for him almost 20 years later, while Sasha’s life has accelerated. But it’s all good, because even though the two have significant others (Marcus has latched on to a hippie, spam-loving girlfriend) and couldn’t be more different now, you just know that by the end of this film something will bring them together. True to that same rom-com film formula, though, other people get in the way at first, even after Sasha’s groom-to-be predictably bails on her. Enter one very sexy Keanu Reeves. Shout out to Rich Delia’s impeccable casting, which makes this appearance perfect.

Since the release of Black Panther and Crazy Rich Asians, the question that’s loomed over the media landscape has been just how the film industry will proceed when it comes to tackling issues of representation. Every aspect of Always Be My Maybe that stews in the realm of mediocrity is given a little boost by points of cultural specificity. For instance, one of the causes of tension between Marcus and Sasha is his disdain for the haute cuisine-style food she makes, citing it as a way of making Asian food trendy for white people instead of actually making good Asian food. The two leads’ relationships with their parents also not only extend beyond stereotypes of tiger mums and the model minority myth, but dig — on a shallow level — into the nuances of how expectations of what is owed and expected can change between first- and second-generation parents and children. As small a detail as it may seem, it’s still extremely novel to see a mainstream film acknowledge that Asian-American culture isn’t as monolithic as it always seems to be portrayed. It’s the kind of thing that sets Always Be My Maybe apart from its otherwise formulaic plotting, with a little additional help from the all-around terrific cast.

If you look underneath the themes of Asian American culture and romance you’ll find messages of success (specifically questions around what really makes one successful) and what’s really important in life. This is a film that may force you to think about your life as viewers may see a lot of themselves in either the characters of Sasha or Marcus. Always Be My Maybe is entertaining from start to finish and is one of the better romantic comedies I’ve seen in recent years. It wouldn’t be a romantic comedy without a feel good ending, but this one has a bit of an extra sentimental twist that may have you reaching for the nearest tissue box. Overall, it is a barrier-breaking piece of work that will hopefully mean more Asian American stories being told on TV and in film. It will also be interesting to see what’s next for Ali Wong and Randall Park as the two showed they have what it takes to write, produce and star in high quality productions that resonate with diverse audiences.