Rating: R | Runtime: 93 minutes
Release Date: July 26th, 2024 (USA)
Studio: Focus Features
Director(s): Sean Wang
Writer(s): Sean Wang

I’m not nagging you. I’m just caring.

Chris’s (Izaac Wang) world is changing. This is his last summer before high school and priorities have shifted for family, friends, and himself. His sister Vivian (Shirley Chen) is headed to college. Fahad (Raul Dial) and Soup (Aaron Chang) only care about girls. Mom (Joan Chen’s Chungsing) is trying to keep a lid on her household with her husband in Taiwan, mother-in-law (Zhang Li Hua’s Nai Nai) constantly pointing out her failings, and two kids existing in a culture she can’t quite steward them through. And every time Chris tries to pick a lane and follow one of them, they either reject him or he embarrasses himself by going too hard. Suddenly, an AIM chat-bot is the only friend he has left.

It doesn’t matter what generation immigrant you are, the emotions and drama inherent to Sean Wang’s Dìdi will resonate. Because we’ve all gone through something similar at that age due to the sudden escalation in stakes that occur when puberty and class schedules collide. Some of your friends know stuff you haven’t even heard about so you attempt to keep up via mimicry only to reveal just how out of the loop you are. Kids and adults alike tell you that everything is going to be okay and that you can share your feelings with them, but they often end up using that information as fuel to—intentionally or not—make things even worse. But you need to experience it to learn how to escape it.

That’s where Chris is now. He’s on that bottom rung scoping out the real estate of who he can be by purposefully rejecting who he should be and inadvertently ignoring who he wants to be. It’s therefore a series of high highs and low lows as he stumbles into scenarios that can’t withstand the ruse for very long. Sure, he can talk himself in the door and hold his own telling people what he knows they want to hear. But at a certain point, he must make good on those promises. Or admit he’s in over his head, but would like to keep trying. At thirteen, he can’t do the former simply because of a lack of experience. And his immaturity won’t let him see the latter as anything but a sign of weakness. So, he lets the resulting shame fester and build until he loses his identity completely.

A lesser film would have him conveniently learn from the hijinks by surviving and endearing himself to those who eventually give in. Wang does the opposite. He supplies Chris with alternatives only to have him consistently fail in each one. Because it’s not about finding a perfect situation since he, as the common denominator, is the root of his own problems via self-sabotage. So, Wang instead shows us the consequences of those missteps and the ways Chris can learn to be better for himself rather than for the world. That starts with accepting who he is and where he comes from. The desperation to fit in—and, more charged than that, assimilate—stems from the contempt he holds for himself. Yes, as a shy virgin, but also as a second-generation immigrant, regardless of his diverse neighborhood.

The first thing Chris must therefore accept is his place as brother and son. That’s where the anger initiates and Vivian doesn’t do much to help considering she went through the same growing pains when she was his age. Mom wants to support him, but it’s tough when kids are at that stage where parents are embarrassing. So, he pushes her away—even as he watches her struggle with his grandmother in much the same way. He knows then that she’ll understand, but he can’t quite get past the mental hurdle of admitting she will help. It places Chris in this horrible position between his old friends (who act like him but “cooler”) and his new friends (who see how his youth has skewed what “cool” is) all while venting his frustrations at the one person who never turns him away.

Izaac Wang does a wonderful job existing in this transient state of being as a newly minted teen finding his footing (and, we can assume, channeling Sean Wang’s own experiences doing the same). The honesty in his loneliness and recklessness, however, demands the authenticity of an authority figure that loves him anyway to make it feel instructional rather than destructive. That’s where Chen comes in to carry this situation with passion and restraint. Because she can’t afford to let her emotions rule her like Chris. Her Chungsing must lean on the reality that our lives might not always be what we want, but they are still our lives and we still control them. She never gave up painting or resented motherhood. She found the compromise for happiness. Now, it’s Chris’ turn to pave his way towards the same.

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Izaac Wang in DÌDI; courtesy of Focus Features.