Lucy Liu in Harrowing Mental Health Crisis Drama

In Rosemead, Eric Lin crafts a modest and heartbreaking story of domestic isolation and mental health in the Asian American community. The film, which premieres at Tribeca, stars Lucy Liu as Irene, an intrepid Chinese mother battling a terminal illness while navigating the painful realities of her son’s worsening schizophrenia. Joe (a fine Lawrence Shou) was once a star student and celebrated swimmer at Rosemead High School, but his father’s death triggered the young man’s latent psychological problems and he’s been struggling ever since. 

Many immigrant communities either ignore mental health challenges or see symptoms as evidence of spiritual deviance. It can be difficult for those in need to get the help required. Based on a true story, Rosemead compassionately captures the various layers — from community rejection to inadequate state responses — that come with trying to find support. The film’s intimate scope — it takes place in a small California suburb over the course of a few weeks and leans into snug close-ups (cinematography by Lyle Vincent) — makes this a worthwhile portrayal of an under-discussed sliver of American life. 

Lin, working from a screenplay by Marilyn Fu, plunges us into the depths of Irene’s busy life. Her days weren’t always this stressful, but since Charles (played by Orion Lee in flashbacks) died, Irene has had to manage the print shop and monitor Joe’s medication intake all on her own. She hardly has time to sneak away for her chemotherapy sessions — which she’s hiding from her son — or to spend time with herself.

Liu transforms in a role that requires the usually glamorous actress to burrow into a more modest character. Irene wears oversized sweaters and loafers (costumes are by Vera Chow) while her hair is usually half-heartedly tossed back into a ponytail. Liu’s performance is marked by her dedication to inhabiting and understanding Irene’s state of agita. She emphasizes the character’s pride and furtive nature, while managing a rather uneven rendition of a recent Chinese emigré’s accent.  

For most of Rosemead, Irene insists that Joe is fine, and it’s this vague desire for normalcy that traps Irene. Before conveying the depth of her desperation, Lin takes a considered approach to establishing the rhythms of this mother’s life. When we first meet Irene, she’s picking her son up from his weekly therapy session. His therapist Dr. Hsu (James Chen) encourages her once again to join their meetings, saying that her presence could help Joe, who’s turning 18 in a few months, feel more empowered in his recovery. Irene gently refuses, insisting instead that Joe is returning to his old self. 

But Joe isn’t fine. The teenager struggles at school, where he can’t focus and spends class time drawing disturbing images across his notebook. Some of his friends — played by Maidson Hu and Anzi DeBenedetto — try to help Joe by inviting him to hang outside of school and encouraging him to share his thoughts, but the young man would often rather be alone.

Lin conjures Joe’s experience with schizophrenia through brief, frenzied montages. Joseph Krings’ skittish edits coupled with Will Bates’ haunting music underscore how scary a place Joe’s head can be. Lin bolsters this perspective with scenes of Joe posting online about how medication weakens his resolve and becoming obsessed with school shootings. Shou, in his feature debut, does a fine job evoking the capricious moods of a teenager battling against his own mind. He’s particularly compelling in scenes in which Joe tries to override visual and auditory hallucinations by focusing on happy memories with his mother and father. In those moments, Shou relies on a pronounced physicality to manifest the character’s struggle. 

One does wish that Rosemead were clearer about the intensity of and reasons for Joe’s fixation on these tragedies. This might have helped the film more forcefully counter the assumption that schizophrenia, or other mental health issues of its kind, causes violent tendencies. Although Joe’s doctor reiterates this point, there are parts of Rosemead that edge too closely to tired tropes of mental illness. 

What Rosemead does well is showcase how a culture of silence fosters fear. Lin shows scenes of Irene and Joe facing the judgement of members of their community, as well as condescending school officials trying to make Joe someone else’s problem. As Joe’s mental health deteriorates, Irene realizes that her son hasn’t been taking his medication. She comes across evidence of his school shooting obsession and tries to control the situation with a quiet but palpable desperation.

Here, Lin switches gears slightly, adding thriller elements to up the stakes. Irene races against time to pre-empt any violence from her son while keeping his worsening condition from her closest friend (Eleven Lee). Her decisions are disturbing in their devastation, and what began as an intimate portrait of a mother and her son deftly transitions into a harrowing psychological study of a woman who thinks she has no options.