Sex comedies have long been dominated by white dudes throwing frat parties, bachelor parties, or otherwise bro-ing out hard and hilarious. In the tradition of Bridesmaids, Bachelorette, and For a Good Time, Call…, Joy Ride reminds us that women and non-binary folk can get wacky and wild too. And we're all invited along for the trip.
This raunchy romp packed up the ass with drugs, sex, and four-letter words might make some blush, but it's a hell of a good time.
Joy Ride follows four Asian-American friends on a trip to China, where grown adoptee Audrey (Ashley Park) is on a "grand adventure to find [her] birth mother." At her side is her childhood bestie Lolo (Sherry Cola), an outspoken artist who treasures pop art and dirty talk. Tagging along is Lolo's socially awkward — and gender-non-conforming — cousin, the aptly nicknamed Deadeye (Sabrina Wu). And joining them in China is Kat (Academy Award-nominee Stephanie Hsu), Audrey's college roommate who has become a TV star in a rapturous period drama.
Adoption dramas can be emotionally devastating terrain for film, but Joy Ride keeps things light with a string of outrageous comedy setups. Along the way, there's a run-in with a high-strung drug dealer (Search Party's Meredith Hagner), hilarious hook-ups with some studly basketball players, and a K-pop-inspired musical number with plenty of attitude, Cardi B love, and a jaw-dropping final reveal. However, the core of Joy Ride is about four very different people who all find themselves chafing against the molds they feel pressured to fit within.
Long before their titular trip, Joy Ride establishes the identity crisis Audrey has as an Asian girl raised by white American parents. She's more openly affectionate with her folks than Lolo and her parents, who give side-eye at a group hug. ("White people," Lolo whispers in explanation.) A running gag is made out of Audrey's inability to stomach traditional Chinese dishes. But jokes aside, this trip is about her reconnecting with a heritage that feels foreign to her.
The others can relate, bumping up against the expectations of what's considered "appropriate" by their parents, a chaste fiance, and a legion of fans, as well as the suffocating confines of a gender binary. While this foursome does bicker — Kat and Lolo, especially, are poised as rivals to be Audrey's BFF — they ultimately connect over their desire to embrace their true identities. Nestled inside a flurry of raunchy jokes, physical comedy, and sex gone hilariously wrong, there's a sweet emotional journey in Joy Ride that makes it feel-good and not just funny.
The central foursome is solid in terms of comedic timing and chemistry. Park solidly shoulders the role of the comedy's "straight man." Wu brings a winsome guilelessness that makes Deadeye a delight, even when they are achingly awkward. Hsu, who awed critics and audiences in Everything Everywhere All At Once, is a hoot as a vain celebrity who can snarl snark in one moment, then in another proclaim sincerely, "It's not a Bop-It, it's my asshole!" But Cola steals this show.
Whether showing off Lolo's sex-centric sculptures, taunting the stuck-up Kat, or giving Audrey some needed tough love, Cola is mesmerizing, painting her character with compassion and complexity. It's easy to imagine a version of Joy Ride where Lolo might just be the foul-mouthed sidekick, but Cola finds a rich emotional core to this character. Lolo lives out loud and demands her friends dare to do the same — whatever the consequences. Beyond breathing such vibrant life into Lolo, Cola is also just downright hilarious, whether she's rolling her eyes, dropping zings, or casually miming cunnilingus.
Though thoroughly funny, wildly entertaining, and surprisingly sweet, Joy Ride is clunky in its construction. Adele Lim, who boasts screenwriting credits on Crazy Rich Asians as well as Raya and the Last Dragon, makes her directorial debut here; Lim also shares story credits on Joy Ride with Cherry Chevapravatdumrong and Teresa Hsiao. Together, they've crafted several excellent setups to potential comedic spectacles, but the coverage and editing undercuts some of the movie's most pivotal moments.
Throughout the film, the framing often crops out a character or two during heated exchanges. This means we miss out on, for example, Stephanie Hsu reacting to Sherry Cola's more profanity-laced punchlines. In a hotel sequence rich with hijinks, Deadeye's mini-arc is jarringly truncated, to the point of distraction. (Perhaps cut for time?) But the most frustrating misstep is the lack of anticipation for splashy and flashy emotional beats. Without giving away the film's climactic bit, there's so little build-up to what's about to go down that the reveal is confounding before it becomes funny. You might well be wondering what you're looking at, and by the time you realize, the movie has moved on. Such beats would hit harder if Lim had given us a tease of what embarrassment was about to bare itself.
While Lim has experience writing comedy alongside tales of female empowerment, her lack of experience as a director is glaring in these moments. Comedy lives in the wide shot. Watching Joy Ride, I found myself looking to the edge of the frames, waiting for the entire quartet of heroes to be welcomed into the action and reaction. In a film that's so centrally about the power of this friendship, it's all the more disheartening that its cinematography so often excludes core cast members, while clumsy comedy cuts make crucial beats feel rushed instead of relished.
Despite its wobbles, Joy Ride is a sex comedy that takes full advantage of its R rating, reveling in saucy punchlines, provocative gags, and a full-frontal funny. Lim and her collaborators kick down the gender barriers of this genre while challenging Asian-American stereotypes. The cast cracks jokes that invite audiences not only to laugh but also to cackle and cringe. And good! An R-rated comedy worth its salt shouldn't be comfortable. It should make us gasp even as we giggle. Joy Ride achieves that.
Ferociously funny from the jump — check out the trailer for its opening takedown of a racist white playground bully — Joy Ride is a trip worth taking this summer.
