Lucky Lu

At first, Lucky Lu resembles a well-executed reinvention of Bicycle Thieves in modern New York’s Chinatown. The comparison is initially apt, until the film unfolds further, and begins to exhibit a nuanced dissection of the immigrant experience, as well as the quiet desperation that comes with being a family’s main provider.

When his bicycle (and corresponding source of income) is stolen the day before his wife and daughter are due to arrive from Taiwan, former-restauranteur turned delivery-driver Lu has to find other ways to ensure they’ll have a roof overhead before they land. Traversing the asphalt jungle of Chinatown in search of work and opportunity, Lu is haunted constantly by the ghost of his own failed restaurant, resurrected every time he steps into a different eatery to deliver meals he himself can never hope to afford.

Chang Chen’s central performance as Lu is one of the best this year, a sensational display of naturalistic stress he forces himself to push through for his family’s survival first, and then his own. He anchors the film in a manner that appears so genuine it’s hard to watch at times, especially as he’s forced to make tough moral choices that poverty can thrust upon us.

The world Lu inhabits breathes and twists through steam-filled back alleys and harshly lit rooms populated by two types of people, predators and prey. Jumping moment to moment into whatever role people want or that will pay him, it’s a high-wire life Lu is forced to lead if he’s going to provide for his wife and daughter (played in a rather brilliant debut by Carabelle Manna).

At times the film carries the same frenetic energy and tension of the Safdie Brothers’ Uncut Gems, whilst balancing perfectly with sombre moments of reflection and quiet desperation. It’s a tough watch at points, but a needed one if you can stomach it, told with a depth of empathy and an eye for fine detail. A bravura debut on all accounts.