Why “The Half Of It” Deserves Our Full Attention

Among the films being released on Netflix this year is The Half of It, a coming-of-age movie directed by Alice Wu. The film stars Leah Lewis as Ellie Chu, a bright yet awkward 17-year-old girl who lives in the small town of Squahamish and runs an essay-writing business. She is approached by jock Paul Munsky (Daniel Diemer) who, contrary to her expectation, asks for her help on a love letter he is writing for Aster Flores (Alexxis Lemire). From there, the two form an unlikely friendship in which Ellie tries to help Paul get the girl, but she ends up falling in love with Aster as well. Coming to Netflix tomorrow May 1, The Half of It kicks off Asian Pacific American Heritage Month with a bang, documenting one girl’s journey towards self-discovery, happiness, and finally feeling seen.

From To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before to The Kissing Booth and Tall Girl, I have seen my share of cliché Netflix movies.  Netflix seems to excel at this quirky teen dramedy genre, with many of them being binge and cringe-worthy. However, The Half of It excites me as a newcomer in this overwhelmingly homogeneous genre. Movies that discuss race and sexuality are often more on the serious side, with tragedy and suffering used to make a social commentary. While these issues are important and should be portrayed, it is also important for young people of color and LGBTQ+ individuals to get carefree stories of love and friendship. Furthermore, cultural differences and family life are two things that are rarely seen within the coming-of-age genre, as it is predominantly white and usually focuses on the teenage main characters.

While it is clear that the film will include a lot of typical high school tropes, like the small-town social pariah and the thick-headed popular jock, there is also evidence that Wu has put her own twist on the genre. Ellie is made fun of in school for being a geek and with pejorative adaptations of her last name (i.e. “Chugga-chugga-Chu-Chu”),  possibly for being Asian too, as she lives in a small majority-white town. Additionally, her widowed single father is unable to understand his daughter’s life due to cultural and linguistic differences. 

On top of that, The Half of It gives me hope as a movie directed by Alice Wu, a queer Asian woman herself. Allowing marginalized people the agency to write the script is just as important in seeing authentic and real representation as the casting is. Wu has also directed Saving Face, a romantic drama that focuses on the love between two Chinese-American women and the task of keeping up appearances within Chinese communities. This movie was the first one that I’ve ever watched that discussed sexuality within other cultures, and showed a relationship between two women of color sans the male gaze. As a queer Asian woman, I often found myself separating my ethnicity and my sexuality, believing that they cannot occupy the same space. Saving Face helped change my perspective on this, and I’m excited for The Half Of It, as Wu’s second film seeks to unravel Ellie’s relationship with herself, her peers, and her dad. 

Ellie (left) and Paul (right), photo courtesy of IndieWire

The portrayal of this unique relationship between Ellie and her father points to how important it is to have people of color in executive roles — and actually support them. While I believe that it is imperative to be inclusive on-screen, I maintain that people of color should be able to take control of their own narratives. White directors are often unable to capture the complexity and nuance of racial identity and throughout history, their perspectives (which have been arbitrarily considered the default standard) are often problematic and harmful.

Asian female representation in Hollywood has been a messy road, with women typecast in many roles: the prostitute, dragon lady, bar girl, nerd, etc. Recent films like The Farewell, Crazy Rich Asians, and To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before are only recent developments in a long history of racism, sexualization, and infantilization. I don’t think that I’ve ever seen an Asian female character like Ellie before; she’s awkward, guarded, pessimistic, and aggressive. Alice Wu, as a queer Asian woman, has been able to humanize Ellie because she is drawing on her own experience as one. Watching the trailer, I felt like I was able to personally relate to Ellie’s identity crisis, her yearning for Aster, and utter feeling of being misunderstood. 

Lest we forget that LGBTQ+ characters have also suffered greatly within Hollywood. Janis Ian from Mean Girls is portrayed as predatory and repressed. Blue is the Warmest Color has gotten criticism for extremely graphic sex scenes between the two female leads, with many believing it to perpetuate the male gaze. Call Me By Your Name features a questionable relationship between a 17-year-old boy and a 24-year-old graduate student with an inequitable power dynamic. TV shows like Glee and Sex Education have the damaging trope of a homophobic bully actually being closeted and in love with the out subject of harassment. It is rare for audiences to see healthy LGBTQ+ relationships or even well-rounded characters that do not rely on stereotypes like the predatory lesbian or the flamboyant gay best friend as a comedic punchline. For queer people of color, it is impossible to get good representation that doesn’t result in trauma or tragedy. 

Ellie (left) and Aster (right), photo courtesy of IndieWire

In the trailer, it was charming to see Paul turn into a support system for Ellie. He does not express disgust or lust towards Ellie’s crush on Aster, but genuine sympathy devoid of toxic masculinity. Various scenes show Paul sticking up for Ellie, through talking to her dad or egging her bullies. Even though the two share the same love interest, it is clear that Paul wants Ellie to find happiness in herself. The love interest is Aster Flores, an intelligent Latina that goes to the same high school as them. Ellie waxes on about Aster’s eyes and smarts, showing that Wu intends to maintain the ridiculousness of coming-of-age movies, in which teenagers are unrealistically charming, empathetic, and romantic. 

After the number of tears I shed by just watching the trailer, I highly encourage everyone to stream The Half of It  when it comes out. Rarely is there an intersection between sexuality and race in a coming-of-age film, and I have high hopes for this being a win for Netflix, and Asian and LGBTQ+ communities. 

Watch the trailer here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B-yhF7IScUE