‘Marry My Dead Body’: NYAFF Review

Dir. Cheng Wei-hao. Taiwan. 2023. 130 mins

The folk ritual of ghost marriage – a union in which one or both parties are deceased – may now be discouraged in Chinese society for negating an image of modernity, but it is still practiced by families who wish deceased relatives to find happiness beyond the mortal plane. This is the basic premise for Marry My Dead Body, which throws in a topical complication by having a homophobic police officer interact with a gay “ghost husband”. Director and co-writer Cheng Wei-hao evidently has an affinity for the supernatural, given he helmed the initial entries in The Tag-Along series (2015/17) which is based on a spooky urban legend. But he changes tack with Marry My Dead Body to mine the afterlife for broad laughs rather than insidious terror. Indeed, this is a go-for-broke mainstream crowd-pleaser which uses its outlandish pairing to cheekily dismantle lingering prejudices towards Taiwan’s LGBTQ community despite the country’s legalisation of same-sex marriage in 2019.

A go-for-broke mainstream crowd-pleaser

Marry My Dead Body went down a storm when released domestically in February, becoming Taiwan’s top grossing Chinese-language title of the year to date with an $11.5 million tally. Netflix has acquired worldwide rights and will make it available to subscribers from August 10. Most of the streamer’s Taiwanese pick-ups have been of the art-house variety, but Marry My Dead Body will nestle comfortably alongside Mag Hsu and Hsu Chih-yen’s similarly LGBTQ-themed Dear Ex (2018) on the platform. As indicted by its Audience Award win at the New York Asian Film Festival, this is the kind of localised comedy that plays best with a crowd which grasps the cultural context. Nonetheless, it will enjoy wider exposure on Netflix where its spirited slapstick should still raise a few guffaws. 

Although he has the drive to become a top detective, Ming-han (Greg Hsu) is hindered by his homophobic attitude - which risks drawing discrimination claims against the department. While searching a park for evidence in a narcotics investigation, he finds a red envelope which has actually been planted by the grandmother (Wang Man-Chiao) of a young gay man who was killed in a hit-and-run incident. Ming-han dismisses the tradition that whoever picks up the envelope is bound to the deceased, but reluctantly goes through with the ghost marriage after experiencing a run of possibly related bad luck.

After the ceremony, Ming-han is ‘partnered’ with the ghostly presence of Mao Mao (Austin Lin), who immediately irritates his new “hubby” by gleefully challenging his prejudices and briefly possessing his body. Desperate for normalcy, Ming-han helps usher Mao Mao towards reincarnation by fulfilling his wishes. In exchange, Mao Mao uses his ethereal powers to assist Ming-han with rebuilding his flailing career. Their tasks overlap when it becomes apparent that Mao Mao’s death is connected to the case that Ming-han has been working on. 

Marry My Dead Body is rather long for a comedy at 130 minutes, but this bagginess gives the relationship between the mismatched pair room to evolve. Both leads have charm to spare, which is particularly fortunate with regards to Hsu since he has to suggest Ming-han’s fundamental decency and capacity for change while delivering a slew of homophobic remarks.

An abundance of exposition means that Lin doesn’t actually materialise until the half hour mark, but the sharp performer wastes no time in establishing the sensitive Mao Mao as an irrepressible foil to his macho ‘spouse’. Stereotypes associated with sexual orientation are soon chipped away, with the fantastical conceit facilitating a beneficial dialogue between two contrasting representatives of Taiwan’s younger generation (Ming-han is thoroughly conservative, while Mao Mao had been a progressive activist). 

This is an example of East Asian cinema’s penchant for genre-blending since the odd couple dynamics are mixed with police procedural, family drama, and light social critique. Cheng at times seems to be channelling the madcap genre cocktails of Johnnie To and Wai Ka-fai, even if he plays it relatively safe when toying with tropes and audience expectations. There are tear-jerking detours into Mao Mao’s break-up with his former boyfriend (Aaron Yan) and strained relationship with his father (Tou Tsung-hua). The issue of workplace inequality is also taken to task through the supporting character of female police officer Tzu-ching (Gingle Wang), who is more than capable of holding her own in the department yet often relegated to public relations duties. It’s a lot for editor Chen Chun-Hung to cram in and the tonal swerves are not always smoothly negotiated. 

The result is an entertaining if unevenly paced buddy movie which falters technically in its action set pieces: an early car chase is marred by distractingly sloppy CGI enhancements, while the staging of the climactic shootout is flatly staged. Yet it’s more disappointing to see some of the puerile physical jokes trade in the immature attitudes that Cheng is supposedly skewering. Good intentions win out, though, ensuring that this sporadically inspired spin on bromance conventions gets its message of acceptance across in agreeably light-hearted fashion.