We all have a mortal enemy: someone who, just by existing, ignites a scorching rage that could burn their house down. I think my long-held grudge against Matthew Morrison (“Glee”) for his many crimes against humanity has festered into enemy territory. Simply put, I have serious beef with him. But Danny (Steven Yeun, “Minari”) and Amy (Ali Wong, “Paper Girls”) take beef to a new extreme. While I might just gag at the sight of Matthew’s face during a hate-watch of “Glee,” Danny infiltrates Amy’s house just to pee on her bathroom floor and she destroys his business in retaliation. These two get so startlingly creative with their feud, it’s wild to think that all it took to light this fire was some poorly-timed road rage.
We are first introduced to Danny while he’s in line at a supermarket trying to return a handful of hibachi grills. He’s clearly at his wit’s end and on the brink of a nervous breakdown while searching for his receipt to no avail. He holds back screams as he walks to his beat-up old truck, grills in tow, and begins reversing out of the parking spot. That is, until someone in a pristine white Mercedes Benz comes up behind him, honks their horn for 20 seconds, flips him the finger and drives off. Now, Daniel has had enough. He shifts his car into gear, high-tails it out of the parking lot and starts a full-on car chase with this stranger. They outmaneuver him, bringing the chase to an abrupt halt as we follow the two in their equally stressful lives. Danny initially assumes the driver to be a man, but quickly learns it was, in fact, Amy behind the wheel.
It becomes very clear from Amy’s barely-held-together mask of serenity that she is also at her wit’s end. Swamped with work she has no interest in and forced to bend to the will of everyone around her, she’s essentially powerless in her own life — just like Danny. This parallel between the two protagonists despite their very different socioeconomic statuses posits them as equals in their rivalry. Each without any sort of healthy outlet for their rage, they take all of their frustrations out on one another in a sadistic back-and-forth. They’re more alike than they even realize: They are both desperately trying to provide for their families to the point of neglecting themselves. Following each of them as they go about their daily lives reveals just how hard they’re trying to keep their heads above water, but — as they lament multiple times — “there’s always something” that comes along to push them underneath.
The hope from the brief moment of air quickly turning to growing disappointment at another breathless period is a poignant portrayal of the immigrant experience. Though Danny and his brother still live in California, their parents have been deported back to South Korea. He sees how they have worked themselves to the bone and wants nothing more than to provide a secure home for them in the U.S., but simply doesn’t have the means to do so. This hyper-awareness of your parents’ sacrifices and internal pressure to provide for them speaks to the reality that so many of the show’s audience members have likely experienced. It validates the frustration of this situation through its intrinsic understanding of it. This is the kind of honest representation that should be embraced by all audiences. Yeun’s performance elevates his character’s desperation and manages to balance it out with a unique humor when paired with Wong’s. Their interactions are so over-the-top outrageous that they provide a tonal reprieve from the otherwise heavy topics explored by the plot.
One of the central similarities between Daniel and Amy is their lack of control over their lives. All Amy wants to do is stay home with her daughter, but she can’t stop running the rat race of corporate life. All Daniel wants is to make enough money to fix the mistakes that led to his parents’ deportation, but he can’t seem to keep a job. The only time they truly feel in control is when they’re messing with each other. To me, the root of the problem is clear: capitalism. While these two born-poor characters can’t seem to catch a break because of how worried they are about money, all the extravagantly wealthy characters like Amy’s nepo-baby husband and her “richer than entire countries” boss just can’t grasp why anyone would need to harbor such rage. With the added context of Daniel’s immigrant background and the farcical nature of their failed “American Dream,” it’s clear that the system works against characters like him and in favor of people like Amy’s boss and husband. I haven’t seen a clearer example of class divide. The show perfectly encapsulates the frustration of the lower class — even those who have gotten in the system’s good graces — and the immigrant experiences of trying to pull yourself and your loved ones out with the odds stacked against you.
Regardless of how Amy and Daniel try to put on the face of peaceful, upper-class calm that their uber-wealthy bosses and friends assume, their rage at the system and their place in it leaves a primal anger festering underneath. This leads them to retaliate against one another in a cycle of malicious infighting, vowing to take down the only person who could truly understand them, rather than going for the real villains, who are, of course, the rich. This is a fresh take on class warfare that even Marx might have been glad to see played out on screen.
Amy and Daniel might be trying to gain a sliver of control by making each other’s lives miserable, but the real control rests with the rich. That’s a raw deal no one wants to sign, but no one has the control to turn down. Those with the power feed Amy mushrooms and give Daniel spicy chicken sandwiches, but the two’s craving for beef can’t be satiated by anyone besides the other. While it’s fun to watch them bicker on screen, I think it might be more fun to watch Amy key her boss’s car or break her husband’s terrible art. And while the real enemy is always capitalism, we should also remember that Matthew Morrison remains a worse threat to human society.
Daily Arts Writer Mina Tobya can be reached at mtobya@umich.edu.