Very rarely does a remake seem warranted in today’s industry landscape. However, the world is far different for the LGBTQ+ community than it was when Ang Lee’s The Wedding Banquet came out in 1993. It might seem foolish to try and remake a beloved comedy, but because writer-director Andrew Ahn shifts the story forward into the present day, thus presenting our characters with new challenges and pressures to navigate, The Wedding Banquet (2025) more than justifies its existence.
Ahn’s iteration of The Wedding Banquet centers on a close-knit quartet navigating big steps in their relationships. Angela (Kelly Marie Tran) and Lee (Lily Gladstone) are trying to conceive a baby via IVF, while Min (Han Gi-chan) wants to propose to his commitment-phobic boyfriend Chris (Bowen Yang). Frustrated with his relationship’s standstill and an expiring green card on the horizon, Min proposes a green-card marriage with Angela in exchange for funding Lee’s next round of IVF. However, Min’s grandmother surprises the couple by traveling to the States and gifting them an extravagant Korean wedding banquet.
Despite the wacky, screwball premise, Ahn approaches this story with a signature tenderness that cradles every character carefully without coddling them. He’s unafraid of showing their cracks but finds their humanity and the fact that they are trying their best. Like his work on Fire Island (2022), he does not sacrifice laughs or heightened physical comedy but still crafts a vulnerable and honest portrait of people making up for lost love.
Cinematographer Ki Jin Kim (a frequent collaborator of Ahn’s) aids the tender vision with close, intimate shots that act as a window into our characters without being invasive. The quiet moments sing as we hone in on our characters’ eyes as they process the latest revelation in their respective predicaments. Every frame is drenched in warm tones that invoke the warmth of this quartet’s connection.
Tran finally sinks her teeth into a role that allows her to perform in all her uninhibited glory. Angela is rough around the edges but exudes a warmth that pulls the audience into her orbit. Tran dives headfirst into her messier moments and will have you aching for release one moment and laughing the next. It feels like an arrival. While Tran has been around for a minute, she hasn’t had the opportunity to shine this bright.
Gladstone’s Lee is a nice anchor to Angela’s more erratic nature and that boils down to Gladstone’s incredible presence that she brings to every role. While she is perhaps the most underused in the ensemble, Gladstone still makes Lee’s moments count and leaves an indelible mark on the film.
Yang gets to flex his acting chops here as Chris in his most understated role yet. There’s a quiet storm swirling beneath Chris, and Yang manages to convey it with single glances. His steely exterior pairs beautifully with Han’s sunny, romantic Min. While he’s fairly new to the film world compared to his co-stars, Han ties the group together, and the quartet absolutely does not work without his presence.
The biggest standouts of the film come in the form of two matriarchs: Angela’s mother May (Joan Chen) and Min’s grandmother Ja-Young (Youn Yuh-jung). Both women bring a resounding soul to the film, navigating the time they lost with Angela and Min as they tried to wrap their heads around their queer identities. May now overcompensates by being super involved in LGBTQ+ organizations while Ja-Young is just beginning to understand her grandson’s feelings. Chen nails May’s sillier disposition, and Youn nails Ja-Yuong’s dry comedic delivery. Both ladies diverge in comedic styles, but in the heavier moments, they imbue the scene with a dynamic combination of empathy and palpable pain. It’s complicated to digest but so beautiful. Both Chen and Youn solidify why they are two of the best actresses in the game right now.
The Wedding Banquet’s screenplay (written by Ahn and one of the original film’s writers James Schamus) is uneven at times. It attempts to balance the weightier themes with comedic moments and sometimes one tone is actively undercutting the other. Likewise, the script feels imbalanced in how it carries the central quartet’s stories (Lee’s in particular). It feels like we’re shortchanged of important background information. There are plot beats that become important later that, in the moment, feel crammed in. Chris’s cousin Kendall (Bobo Le) pops in and out throughout, and we don’t learn anything about her or Chris’s relationship until the third act.
Despite its flaws, Ahn and Schamus have drenched this script with endless heart and charm that’s elevated by the stellar ensemble. They allow the characters to be human while navigating newfound societal pressures through a queer lens. The modernization allows new conversations to trickle through that haven’t been discussed at length in mainstream media yet. Chris’s fear of commitment hits differently when the commitment wasn’t always legal and had to be fought for. Lee and Angela’s attempts to become parents feel all the more urgent and devastating; the way they are supported through it looks and feels much different through the lens of a chosen, queer family.
Ahn repeatedly delivers films that a younger version of myself would’ve died to see. He doesn’t sensationalize or exploit the queer experience but centers it honestly and openly. He showcases queer people in all their glorious complexities. His work feels uniquely queer but also universal in a way that will have any and every audience member laughing, crying, and moved.
Review Courtesy of Adam Patla
Image Courtesy of Bleecker Street via Gateway Film Center