Review: Ms. Purple Is Betrayed by Its Eagerness for Showy Dramatic Conflict

Subtlety dissipates as Justin Chon’s film grasps for something louder and more obvious.

Ms. Purple
Photo: Oscilloscope Laboratories

Throughout Justin Chon Ms. Purple, characters gradually reveal their histories. Kasie (Tiffany Chu) works a shit job as a karaoke hostess in L.A.’s Koreatown, keeping handsy drunks company so she can afford in-home care for her dying, bedridden father, Young-Il (James Kang). When his nurse quits, she calls upon her estranged brother, Carey (Teddy Lee), and the two talk about the past, giving us a sense of who they were as they pull things like an old keyboard out of a dusty closet. Flashbacks offer glimpses of other, not necessarily happier, times, like the trio showing up on the doorstep of the kids’ absentee mother, or a 15-year-old Carey running away after a fight with Young-Il gets physical. Chon may intend for these characters to have real, meaningful pasts, but any sense of believable history is drowned out by clanking plot machinations that grow too loud to ignore.

Ms. Purple works best at its most reserved. In Kasie’s quiet contemplation, Chu reveals the weight upon her character’s shoulders through body language and tired eyes. Kasie stares wistfully at palm trees against a pink sky, and when she reconciles with Carey, the two simply fall into old patterns. They have the reticent, nonverbal communication of people who can be awkward with each other but nevertheless know one another well enough to forgive without the need for loud, tearful sob stories; that they’re speaking again is enough. Moments like this feel authentic, and they’re augmented by Ante Cheng’s rich, roving handheld camerawork, which colors faces in neon signage reminiscent of Wong Kar-wai’s collaborations with Christopher Doyle. In one great scene, the film intercuts Kasie falling at work with a flashback to wordlessly convey the emotional toll of caring for Young-Il.

But Chon never seems totally comfortable with naturalistic observation. Like the stark, confrontational nature of 2017’s Gook, his eagerness for showy dramatic conflict betrays him. Angry outbursts seem to materialize out of pure necessity rather than as an evolution of bottled emotions, and in an instant, people start hurling insults or breaking a bottle to use as a weapon. Subtlety dissipates as the film grasps for something louder and more obvious, which makes the characters look more like mechanical moving parts. Even scenes where Kasie stands before the ocean or moves her fingers through a ray of light feel banal in their self-conscious prettiness, a manufactured supplement for what turns out to be artificial drama.

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Score: 
 Cast: Tiffany Chu, Teddy Lee, Octavio Pizano, James Kang  Director: Justin Chon  Screenwriter: Justin Chon, Chris Dinh  Distributor: Oscilloscope Laboratories  Running Time: 87 min  Rating: NR  Year: 2019  Buy: Video

Steven Scaife

Steven Nguyen Scaife is a freelance writer whose work has appeared in Buzzfeed News, Fanbyte, Polygon, The Awl, Rock Paper Shotgun, EGM, and others. He is reluctantly based in the Midwest.

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