Sasha (Ali Wong) and Marcus (Randall Park) used to be best friends from childhood – they grew up living next door to each other, and bonded over the fact that Sasha’s parents were always too busy to take care of her, so she was essentially raised by Marcus’ mother and father, who gave her the attention her own family couldn’t. Years later, they have drifted apart, losing contact with each other and living completely separate lives, harbouring lifestyles that couldn’t be more different. Sasha is a world-renowned celebrity chef who is opening restaurants in a number of major cities. Marcus works for his father’s heating company. A chance encounter finds the old friends meeting once again, and considering they are both in unhappy relationships, they start to see their previously unresolved romantic feelings being rekindled and start to realize that despite having parted ways all those years ago, their hearts had always belonged together. However, will they be able to overcome their radically different lifestyles in order to lead a happy life together?

There isn’t much about Always Be My Maybe that stands out as being particularly original. It is by no means a bad film – in fact, in spite of some flaws, it is a pretty great film, and a wonderful, if not highly predictable, addition to the canon of entertaining romantic comedies. The labour of love of co-stars Ali Wong and Randall Park, who developed this film years ago and tried to get it financed for a while before eventually finding a home on Netflix, which ensures that it is always seen as the most inclusive distributor of entertainment media, this film really is exactly what the viewer would expect – a really fun and harmless attempt to capitalize on the shift towards wider representation in romantic comedy (in this case, following the precedent set by the massive hit Crazy Rich Asians last year), but also one that may not contribute much to the genre other than being a pleasant, diverting experience that remains strictly within the confines of the romantic comedy, not deviating in any way, yet still managing to be a captivating piece and a truly wonderful time. It isn’t a major film, but its certainly a fun one.

Ali Wong and Randall Park have been on the rise for a while now. Park, in particular, has received some decent offers, both in film and television (he has the difficult task of acting across from Constance Wu’s genius comedic performance on Fresh Off the Boat, a similarly-inclusive series) and he consistently holds his own, especially in movie roles, where he normally takes on supporting roles that allow him to shine without giving him the opportunity to play more leading characters. Always Be My Maybe is a great showcase for both actors, as it gives them major roles in a romantic comedy, which not only lets them exercise their acting abilities but also their comedic skills. Wong, who has been steadily raising her profile through her writing and stand-up, is becoming a necessary voice in contemporary comedy, representing the shift towards more diversity in the arts. She certainly is one of the most talented performers working at the moment, but despite her growing popularity, she hasn’t quite reached the point in her career that her talents warrant – and Always Be My Maybe is a vital step towards remedying that problem, giving her the platform to reach a wider audience and spread her unique brand of sardonic geniality.

Both Wong and Park are terrific on their own, but neither are particularly groundbreaking. The key to the success of Always Be My Maybe is that it doesn’t try too hard, and it is built almost entirely on the chemistry of the two leads. Written by them over the years, this is a film rooted not only within their friendship and desire to collaborate but also their efforts to create a romantic comedy that is different to what we’ve seen before, namely in being one of the few mainstream comedy films lead solely by Asian-American performers. Their chemistry is impressive (and clearly nestled within their decades-long friendship), and they play off each other perfectly. They’re both so endlessly likeable and deeply compelling as characters, and manage to find interpretations of the individuals they’re playing without resorting to archetypes. Of the two, I think it’s clear that Park gives the slightly better performance, as his unambitious, lonely everyman character is far more relatable than Wong’s character, who has intentionally been jaded by the vitriolic qualities of the life of a celebrity. Yet, they’re both really good and find a great balance between the comedy and the romance, which makes this film almost entirely successful off their wonderful performances.

Then there is Keanu Reeves. Of all the elements of Always Be My Maybe, none of them have been as highly-publicized as Keanu Reeves’ part in this film, and for good reason. I’m reluctant to say Reeves is making a comeback because its clear that he’s never actually gone anywhere, and his career has remained consistent in the quality of performances he gives. The difference is that lately, it would appear that audiences have woken up to the fact that he is not nearly as bad an actor as he was previously thought to be, and rather a really terrific performer who not only is fully dedicated to his roles, but seems to be a genuinely endearing person, with his humility and meditative attitude being a great remedy to the more despicable side of celebrity culture. In Always Be My Maybe, Reeves has a supporting role, and what was initially built as an extended cameo to lend the film some more nuance turned into one of the funniest performances of the year, with Reeves delivering a masterclass in comedic timing with his portrayal of a heightened version of himself. We’ve seen films recently that allow the actor to play around with his reputation, and his keen self-awareness is always a merit when playing these characters, as is evident in this film, which sees the eternally charming and modest Reeves turning into an absurd, bothersome version of himself that is just captivating enough to be the highlight of the film. His few scenes are undeniably the centrepiece of the film, and while he may not be consequential to plot, his performance is worth the price of admission alone (or considering this is Netflix, the price of subscription), and personally, I’m just relishing in the fact that we are living in a time when Keanu Reeves is finally being appreciated. Its been a long time coming, but he’s persisted, and this career renaissance of sorts is going to remind us that there’s no one quite like him. Perhaps its odd to dedicate so much space in this review to praising Reeves, but considering how his performance is the most memorable part of the film, its only appropriate that praise is given where its due.

The problem with Always Be My Maybe is that it falls victim to so many cliches, and not in a way that is remotely self-aware, so rather than challenge the notions of the romantic comedy, it just recedes into some of the more troubling quirks. It may not detract from the warmth and heart of the film as a whole, but it reminds us of what could’ve been a truly brilliant and subversive film. In a way, its actually appropriate that this film stayed conventional because had t been more inventive, it would’ve been seen as a novelty, another overt attempt to challenge genre conventions. It somehow distracts from the underlying message of representation behind the film, and people see this differently. Some may think it’s a great way to normalize diverse stories without making it solely about representation, while others may think its just poor filmmaking and the product of an unoriginal story. I’m caught partway between the opinions – I am an ardent supporter of diversity in the arts, and it is very heartwarming to see a film like Always Be My Maybe produced because it represents a considerable step forward for the genre. However, it was also quite disappointing that this film wasn’t better. The two leads are undeniably talented, and they’ve got a promising story. Perhaps the fact that this film felt a little too conventional was the point – not every film that infuses diversity into its story can be edgy and subversive. Some of them need to be predictable and wrought with cliches, and that appears to be the case with this one. Perhaps its a controversial concept, but can true diversity in cinema ever be achieved if every single film that takes a representation approach is a well-made, lauded masterpiece? Sometimes, a film just needs to be average in order to establish a new standard of representation in a genre, and Always Be My Maybe, as pleasant of an experience as it is, seems to be a perfect example.

Always Be My Maybe is a good film – it may not be particularly inventive, and it follows the exact same narrative beats we have come to expect from these kinds of films, but from a new perspective, which is quite refreshing. Ali Wong and Randall Park make for a compelling pair, and take us on a beautifully romantic adventure into the lives of these two characters. There are moments of genuinely profound emotions (and not the kind that is artificially manufactured, as would be the case in a lot of the more notorious offenders in this genre) and a really sweet sentimentality at the core of the film. It is often very funny (but not outrageously so, rather possessing a gentle, sweet humour) and extracts every bit of chemistry from its two leads in order to make this a really enjoyable experience. It may not take any great risks, and it does falter in some regards. Yet, it overcomes its flaws through earnest filmmaking, a great sense of humour, wonderful performances from its charismatic leads, and a certain heartfulness that makes it a really warm, endearing film that may not be particularly original, but is still truly a worthwhile diversion – and perhaps that’s enough for a film like this. It doesn’t take itself too seriously, and neither should we.