After viewing this, I was surprised to see on the DVD box that it had won some glowing blurbs and prizes at various festivals.
The script was OK, the situations potentially involving. But the unfocused, often amateurish, performances and occasional jarring attempts at comedy repeatedly broke the reality and brought to mind that old maxim, "There are no bad actors, only bad directors." The performances were mainly incoherent, unnatural. Director Georgia Lee seemed unable to help her actors communicate any steady undercurrent of withheld feelings, in a story that was largely about such. Key characters, mostly men, passed across the screen as unknowable entities.
I watched Red Doors convinced that most of the leads were capable of much better work, even though I'd only seen one, Tzi Ma, in anything else. Glowingly beautiful Mia Riverton, playing an actress, was hammy and false, killing any chemistry in her romantic scenes.
Secondary characters were worse. As the oldest Wong sister, Sam, Jacqueline Kim had the largest part and gave the most coherent, recognizably human performance. But the acting of the men playing her love interests was awful. Her old crush, a whispery-voiced high-school music teacher--an intended dreamboat--was wretchedly portrayed by a kid with suspiciously plucked eyebrows who looked about half her age and didn't sing well.
Extra points off for being set in and around New York City, ostensibly, yet establishing no NYC ambiance or locales.
So directing movies, it turns out, is like conducting a symphony, or performing rap, or brain surgery--it only takes one bad practitioner to prove that skill makes a difference.
The script was OK, the situations potentially involving. But the unfocused, often amateurish, performances and occasional jarring attempts at comedy repeatedly broke the reality and brought to mind that old maxim, "There are no bad actors, only bad directors." The performances were mainly incoherent, unnatural. Director Georgia Lee seemed unable to help her actors communicate any steady undercurrent of withheld feelings, in a story that was largely about such. Key characters, mostly men, passed across the screen as unknowable entities.
I watched Red Doors convinced that most of the leads were capable of much better work, even though I'd only seen one, Tzi Ma, in anything else. Glowingly beautiful Mia Riverton, playing an actress, was hammy and false, killing any chemistry in her romantic scenes.
Secondary characters were worse. As the oldest Wong sister, Sam, Jacqueline Kim had the largest part and gave the most coherent, recognizably human performance. But the acting of the men playing her love interests was awful. Her old crush, a whispery-voiced high-school music teacher--an intended dreamboat--was wretchedly portrayed by a kid with suspiciously plucked eyebrows who looked about half her age and didn't sing well.
Extra points off for being set in and around New York City, ostensibly, yet establishing no NYC ambiance or locales.
So directing movies, it turns out, is like conducting a symphony, or performing rap, or brain surgery--it only takes one bad practitioner to prove that skill makes a difference.