Name: The Half of It
Genre: Comedy, Romance, Drama
Released: 2020-05-01T00:00:00+00:00
Cast: Leah Lewis, Daniel Diemer, Alexxis Lemire, Enrique Murciano, Wolfgang Novogratz

The opening shot of The Half of It lingers on Ellie Chu’s face as she stares out a train station window, her reflection superimposed over the passing landscape. The scene is quiet, contemplative—a perfect introduction to Alice Wu’s coming-of-age story that wears its heart on its sleeve and asks us to do the same.

Wu’s directorial debut is a loose adaptation of Edmond Rostand’s Cyrano de Bergerac, transposed to a small American town and filtered through the lens of a queer Chinese-American teenager. Shy, straight-A student Ellie (Leah Lewis) is hired by Paul Munsky (Daniel Diemer), an inarticulate jock, to help him woo Aster Flores (Alexxis Lemire), the girl they both secretly desire. The setup is charmingly familiar, but Wu’s execution is anything but. She infuses the classic love triangle with a modern sensibility, exploring themes of identity, grief, and self-discovery in a way that feels fresh and urgent.

Wu’s screenplay is sharp and witty, balancing humor and heartache with deft precision. The dialogue crackles with authenticity, whether it’s Ellie’s dry, acerbic observations or Paul’s earnest but clumsy attempts at romance. Lewis shines as Ellie, bringing depth and nuance to a character who could easily have been one-note. Her performance is a masterclass in subtlety, conveying Ellie’s loneliness and longing through small gestures and fleeting expressions. When she ghostwrites letters for Paul, her voice wavers between vulnerability and strength, revealing the complexity of her emotions.

Diemer is equally impressive as Paul, infusing the role with a winning combination of awkwardness and sincerity. His physical comedy is spot-on, but it’s his quiet moments that truly stand out—like when he shyly admits to Ellie that he doesn’t understand the books she recommends, or when he stands up for her against bullies. The chemistry between Lewis and Diemer is palpable, their friendship evolving in a way that feels organic and earned.

Alexxis Lemire’s portrayal of Aster Flores is another highlight. Aster is the object of both Ellie’s and Paul’s affections, but she’s far from a one-dimensional love interest. Lemire imbues her with warmth, intelligence, and a quiet strength that makes her relatable despite her popularity. The scenes between Aster and Ellie are particularly compelling, as they navigate their growing connection while grappling with the complications of their feelings for Paul.

The film’s visual style is understated but effective, with Wu using composition and framing to emphasize the characters’ isolation and connection. The remote town of Squahamish serves as both a backdrop and a character in its own right, its quiet beauty contrasting with the emotional turbulence of its inhabitants. The sound design is also noteworthy, using silence and ambient noise to heighten tension and evoke mood—like the distant rumble of a train or the soft rustle of leaves outside Ellie’s window.

Wu’s direction is marked by a keen sense of pacing and rhythm. She allows scenes to breathe, letting the characters’ emotions simmer beneath the surface before bringing them to a boil. The film’s structure is unconventional but effective, with Wu eschewing traditional three-act storytelling in favor of a more episodic approach. This gives The Half of It a meandering, almost meditative quality that mirrors Ellie’s introspective nature.

However, The Half of It isn’t without its flaws. At times, the pacing feels uneven, with certain plot points rushing by while others linger a beat too long. The film’s third act, in particular, could have benefited from more development, as some of the emotional beats feel rushed or under-explored. For instance, Aster’s relationship with Trig—a popular boy she has been reluctantly dating—feels underdeveloped and lacks the build-up needed to make it emotionally resonant.

Additionally, while Wu’s exploration of identity and self-discovery is compelling, the film occasionally struggles to balance its multiple themes. The subplot involving Ellie’s father and his grief over her late mother adds another layer of emotional complexity, but it sometimes feels tacked on rather than fully integrated into the narrative. This is a missed opportunity, as Ellie’s relationship with her father could have provided valuable insight into her character and motivations.

That said, The Half of It is a remarkable debut that announces Alice Wu as a filmmaker to watch. Her ability to blend humor and heartache, to explore complex themes with both intelligence and empathy, is truly impressive. The film’s exploration of queer identity, particularly within the context of a small town and a conservative family (Aster’s father is a devout church pastor), is handled with sensitivity and nuance.

The Half of It is also notable for its diverse cast and representation. Wu’s decision to center the story around a queer Chinese-American protagonist is refreshing in an industry that often defaults to white, straight narratives. The film’s commitment to authenticity extends beyond its casting—Wu’s writing and direction are deeply informed by her own experiences as a queer Asian-American woman, lending the story a level of personal resonance that shines through on screen.

In many ways, The Half of It is a love letter to the coming-of-age genre. Wu pays homage to classic films like Cyrano de Bergerac and My Own Private Idaho, but she also subverts expectations, offering a fresh take on familiar tropes. The result is a film that feels both timeless and contemporary—a testament to Wu’s skill as a storyteller.

Ultimately, The Half of It is a film for anyone who has ever felt like an outsider, who has struggled with identity or self-worth, or who has longed for connection in a world that often feels indifferent. It’s a film about the messy, complicated nature of love and friendship, and the ways in which those relationships can shape and define us.