“The Brokenhearted” Theatrical Poster
Director: Leroy Nguyen
Cast: Leroy Nguyen, Samuel Joon Lee, Jackie SJ Kim, Travis Davis, Gene Rush, Alex Au
Running Time: 106 min.
By Matija Makotoichi Tomić
The US indie action scene is home to many talents. One such, still largely undiscovered, is filmmaker Leroy Nguyen, a man determined to pursue his unique creative vision and answering to no one in the process. A director whose movies are a microcosm, sometimes seemingly the same, in which crime, drama, and martial arts action intertwine, though never at the expense of the final product. Following a string of shorts, Nguyen signed his name on a debut feature, Black Scar Blues, an intriguing first produced by his own Rising Tiger Films company, that, despite its flaws, revealed its director as an interesting, bold filmmaker with a distinct vision. Taking the form of a raw neo noir crime drama set on the streets of Baltimore, Black Scar Blues was a movie that had conviction but failed to convince. Let me put it this way. It interested me in what it was selling, but it failed to get me buying. Nguyen’s sharp script brimmed with street-smart dialogue and proved to be the movie’s strong point, but the casting and the execution didn’t draw me in.
Following his debut feature, Nguyen returned to shorts. Among these, Silverback (owing its title to Leroy’s nickname Richie Silverback?) is one of those that stood out, taking home more than a fair share of festival awards and showing just how much this filmmaker progressed in the few years gone by in the meantime, returning its audience to an almost identical crime millieu with Albanian mobsters and Nguyen as a hot-headed gangster with an unhealthy habit of ignoring the voice of reason, too loyal to his personal, questionable beliefs, to keep himself on the right side of trouble. His character, Richie, from the artistically superior yet all but subtle Silverback, had to, much like Roy in Black Scar Blues, flee town, leaving behind his old crew and a woman he loved, but instead of one, he’ll be back in six years. And this time, with a to-do list.
Much like that afore mentioned debut feature that turned out way more concise than it should have, considering the troubled coming to life it went through and the fact it was built around its center action piece, much like James Mark’s Kill Order, The Brokenhearted was originally conceived as a short only to grow to a feature length and, as Nguyen’s latest, proved to be his most mature work to date. As Leroy Nguyen matured on his filmmaking path as both director and action filmmaker, so matured the character he portrayed. Sonny is not the same borderline delusional small-time pusher who refuses to know his place and whose temperament gets both him and the people close to him into needless trouble. Sonny cares more about the people he loves and tries to calm the tension between his friends. Sonny also spent six months behind bars and has no intention of going back. Coming out after serving those six months, he finds a lot has changed and not for the better. James (Samuel Joon Lee) is back to drinking because his taekwondo school is in debt, and Winston (Travis Davis) has hooked up with the triads. James’s sister, Liz (Jackie SJ Kim), whom he was in love with before, doesn’t care for him that way anymore. Instead of a pleasant reunion, the old clique is looking to fall apart in the face of a looming tragedy.
The important difference is, this time, I cared. The Brokenhearted is finally the one that had me emotionally invested and caring for Nguyen’s characters, not remaining indifferent to the promise of a nearing catastrophe. This is a storytelling tool Nguyen remained faithful to throughout the years, inserting flashes of the aftermath of what’s to befall his characters. As was the case before, those characters involve a woman who is a romantic interest of Nguyen’s gangster, destined to suffer because her man has to do what he’s gotta do. Once that leads to him having to leave town, she probably won’t hear from him till he’s back. And he’s usually back wanting to get back to her, though she’s moved on, be it a year, six years, or six months that he left. As for elders, they are mentors with words of wisdom to share. Only in The Brokenhearted, the “old man” is dead. What happens when the youngbloods are left without guidance? They go astray. Once a group of friends sharing fun memories, what’s left is bande à part, finding it hard to come to mutual terms with one another. Winston is out for the money, while James is chasing dreams. In return, James has nothing to show, but which one of them will be remembered? Relationships grow bitter between friends who lose control over their own lives.
This time, Nguyen’s movie is a crime drama in which drama comes first. If, by this point, you forgot this review also mentioned martial arts action, it’s because it takes a back seat to all the crime goings-on and character-driven drama. That martial arts action is also more mature than in Nguyen’s earlier works, even though one wouldn’t say so at first. With Nguyen taking on the duties of action director, The Brokenhearted tones down the action with only a few action scenes scattered across the runtime that surpasses that of Black Scar Blues by a quarter of an hour. Never mind, the drama is compelling, and the cinematography makes The Brokenhearted beautiful to watch, with its bluish shades setting the tone of the movie. Not promising at first, the fights do display an obvious progress from Silverback, especially in the editing department. I don’t know if Leroy and his team prevized their fights before, but if not, it was a good call. The fight scenes here appear well thought of, better connected, and advanced in quality. This especially goes for the finale taking place at the Hwarang Martial Arts school. Whether the fight between James and Tony Mo represents standing up to protect what’s yours, life or death clash, or is a simple culmination of a situation getting out of hand, it’s up for one to decide on their own, but the very end fight is again one between friends, without redemption or catharsis. If anyone hoped for a more flashy, complex duel that might come from the prospect of having a TKD instructor and possibly a kung fu mobster squarring off, if you’ve seen Silverback, you’ll know Leroy fought a kung fu guy there and stayed true to his style. If anything, The Brokenhearted is even more successful in blending the action with the drama without making it feel redundant. As someone inspired by ’80s HK action, Nguyen knows better than to copy anything besides the action. With time, even that action became more personal, much like his stories and characters. Yeah, action-wise, The Brokenhearted will lose sparring with the 2024 genre heavy hitters, but in that crowd, it might turn out to be more its own than any other.
So, what you get in the end is what could be called a classic Leroy Nguyen movie, if I’m allowed to say so: one with gangsters, failed relationships, and anime references, but also with execution that casts a shade on his previous works. It looks more cinematic, and the grainy blueness in which The Brokenhearted is drowned is a pleasure to watch. Even with all the drama, Nguyen finds a place to squeeze in a few laughs, and Keto Sasquatch or the 300-pound Elvis with Down syndrome are punch lines I’d dare you to remain serious to. Just between Black Scar Blues and The Brokenhearted, that’s ten years of pursuing perfection and trying to crystalize your vision for Leroy Nguyen, progressively becoming better and probably never closer to his ideal of what a martial arts movie should be like. It’s ten years of remaining faithful to your vision, committed work on personal growth as a filmmaker, and tuning to the sound of inner guidance. For persistence and final success, I have to say: bravo, Mr. Nguyen.
Matija Makotoichi Tomić’s Rating: 7.5/10
