Gook (2017)

Justin Chon looks at bigotry through the eyes of two Korean brothers in L.A.'s South Central in 1992. The result is hardass yet hypnotically beautiful.

The film isn't perfect - Mr. Chon's wild camera motions seem more undisciplined than electric - but it does find an angle on the riots that hasn't been seen much onscreen.

Chon's tale is ... praiseworthy, from its beautiful cinematography (by Ante Cheng in her feature debut) to its take on infamous events from a fresh perspective.

Yes, it's uneven, but viewers who can forgive some of its shortcomings will be rewarded, and look forward to whatever Chon may come up with next.

At Gook's best, Chon captures, with sharply memorable dialogue, both the essence of his particular characters but also the broad drift of generations.

Chon's dense, ambitious, and observant film is full of impressive craft and insight.

Stark and incisive, with many moments of levity, Gook offers a rare look at impoverished Americans trying to get on with their lives in impossible circumstances.

The racial discussions happening throughout are far from simplistic or rudimentary, this fearless multidimensionality giving Chon's script an impressive edge that's invigorating.

Works best in its slow, steady moments, which allow its characters to breathe and help the film's sense of time and place flower to life.

[John] Chon shows a definite talent for drawing out strong performances from his actors, as well as marshaling expressive imagery that's enhanced by Roger Suen's lyrical music score.

Like "Clerks" with a conscience.

Justin Chon's Gook, an admittedly uneven film with a lot on its mind, acts as an ever-present undercurrent to a particular form of racial strife.