Based on a 2017 Los Angeles Times article by Frank Shyong, the new movie Rosemead dramatizes a true and tragic story of a single Taiwanese American mother named Irene (Lucy Liu) who has cancer, and her teenage son, Joe (Lawrence Shou). A star student and swimmer, Joe begins to have increasing symptoms of his diagnosed schizophrenia, which intensify after the passing of his father (Orion Lee). As Joe’s hallucinations, delusions and outbursts become more frequent and intense, Irene struggles to support her son while dealing with her own terminal illness. If the premise of director Eric Lin’s feature debuts sounds bleak, that’s because it is.

Whether in the form of teachers, social services, or cultural shame, Rosemead highlights how external actors repeatedly fail Joe — driven not by compassion, but by their own internalized fears, exposing the lengths to which institutions will go to protect themselves from those they deem dangerous. After a school shooting drill triggers Joe in an early scene, prompting hallucinations, an administrator suggests that he transfer schools. “We all have his best interests at heart here,” he says with a false authenticity to an already-strained Irene.

The story of Rosemead is about a teenager with mental illness just as much as it is the Asian-American community, in a rare thematic combination that showcases the challenges facing both. Irene projects a composed public front and keeps her sorrow private, reflecting a culture in which shame often wears the mask of secrecy. At a party, other Asian-American families quietly gossip behind Irene’s back, raising questions about Joe seeing a psychiatrist. Instead of standing up for Joe, Irene insists that he’s attending the Family Center out of an interest in psychology, not because he needs therapy.

Meanwhile, when Joe is at school, Irene confesses to a friend who runs an herbal medicine shop that she’s avoided telling her son about her cancer diagnosis because she doesn’t want him to worry. She waves away her friend’s urging to be honest with him, saying she’s already doing all she can. Part of what makes Liu’s performance as an immigrant mother feel true is that the film doesn’t try to appease Western audiences with English-language dialogue. “I’ll make you another tincture,” her friend says in Chinese, as Liu dutifully sips a medicinal remedy from a cup — one of many nods to the divergence between cultures in the East and West. Another: their views on talk therapy, as Irene refuses to accompany Joe in his sessions, despite suggestions from his psychiatrist, Dr. Hsu (James Chen), to do so as a way to show support. Irene stubbornly claims that Joe is getting better on his own.

Dr. Hsu plays an integral role in the film, as perhaps the only character who truly sees Joe without judgment, and in turn, tries his best to tear through the family’s walls. In a pivotal scene, Irene discloses to Dr. Hsu that Joe’s internet search history is riddled with queries on school shootings and is worried that he might hurt someone. “Most people with schizophrenia don’t engage in violence,” Dr. Hsu says. “In fact it’s quite rare. We have no reason to believe that Joe is any different.”

Shyong’s original Los Angeles Times article notes that although mental illnesses such as schizophrenia are not significant contributors to violence in America, media reports tying mental illness and violence have increased in recent years. Rosemead‘s strength lies in its ability to dispel such narratives, however, the film’s portrayal of someone diagnosed with schizophrenia is less nuanced than the portrait it paints of Irene. Liu’s understated performance empathetically captures the resilience and sense of duty often associated with Asian mothers, while steering clear of tired on-screen tropes of strict parenting in Eastern cultures. However, the story would be far stronger with a more deliberate effort to challenge one-dimensional portrayals of mental illness. The film uses a range of camera angles and shaky movements to place the viewer in Joe’s mind, putting Lin’s background as a cinematographer on display. When Joe bolts from the classroom in the midst of the drill, the camera clings close, moving with him as if sharing the pulse of his panic. But viewers get little insight into Joe’s internal thoughts and struggles.

If you’re looking for a happy ending or an inspirational arc, Rosemead might not be for you. What Rosemead offers instead, is something real — a critique on a society that doesn’t know what to do with those that are outside the bounds of what is considered normative, and the compounded effects of shame and silence. What may seem to be one family’s tragedy is often a collective failure, born and bred by the same agents that pretend to offer a lifeline, only to yank it away as soon as you try to take hold.

When actor Andy Garcia arrived in Los Angeles, seeking a career in entertainment, he had no idea that he’d end up becoming a longtime resident.

“I moved to Los Angeles in 1978, looking for work as an actor,” Garcia says. “I lived in Hollywood in a storefront apartment on Sycamore and Fountain. I lived there a couple of years, moved, and have been in Los Angeles ever since.”

The early years were hard, with Garcia working various jobs including stints as “a professional waiter, mostly at the Beverly Hilton, and loading trucks for Roadway at their distribution docks in the City of Commerce,” he says.

Today, the actor is known for roles in “The Godfather Part III,” which garnered him an Academy Award nomination for supporting actor; “Ocean’s Eleven” and its sequels; and the title role in the 2022 “Father of the Bride” remake. Currently, he stars in Paramount+’s drama “Landman,” playing the dangerous cartel boss Gallino, who holds a powerful position opposite fixer Tommy Norris (Billy Bob Thornton) in the series’ oil industry and cartel feud.

Los Angeles is also the setting for “Diamond,” a movie written and directed by Garcia, that pays tribute to 1940s Los Angeles. The contemporary film noir story, which just wrapped production, stars Garcia as a private eye who operates like a 1940s Raymond Chandleresque detective in present day Los Angeles.

“Los Angeles has been our home for many years,” Garcia says. “I never thought it would be my home for this long, but it has been. I’m fortunate that I have all my family living nearby.” Ideal Sundays for the actor are built around family, watching football games on TV, eating Italian cuisine or a good steak, and finding time to play golf at Lakeside Golf Club.

7 a.m.: Coffee first, then Pilates

I’m always up by 7 a.m., regardless. After I wake up, I do Pilates at home with a Gratz reformer. But not before coffee! After that, it’s breakfast at home and football time.

10 a.m.: Golf with a stop at the drink shack

Usually on a Sunday, we get ready for football on the East Coast, like watching the Miami Dolphins, which starts at 10 a.m. If there’s not a game on, I’d squeeze in a little golf at Lakeside Golf Club in Burbank, where I’m a member. It’s a great walking course. The membership is a great hang. It’s very family oriented. There’s always a lot of kids around on Sundays and the weekends. There’s a shack in the middle of the course that serves sandwiches, beer, cocktails, soft drinks and so forth. After several holes, if you want to stop, you can get a snack or a drink there. For me, it’s to get a drink.

2 p.m.: Late lunch

It’s a four-hour round, and since breakfast was at home, lunch would be in the clubhouse. I recommend the Cobb salad, which comes as a very large serving, so you don’t need anything else with it. They also have a junior cheeseburger. It’s somewhere in between a big burger and a slider. It’s quite delicious. If I want to go a bit on the unhealthy side, that would be my go-to.

3:30 p.m.: Back home for family plans

I’d then head home for more ball games on TV. The grandkids are there. We just hang out at the house, and decide what to do for the evening. We either cook at home, or if we’re up for a road trip, we’ll pick one of the restaurants that we like.

7 p.m.: Dinner out for gnocchi or ribeye

We usually have dinner early, so if we’re going out, we head for one of our favorite restaurants. In the Beverly Hills area, we like to go to Via Alloro because our friend Tanino Drago runs the place. Tanino’s the chef and owner, and is a very old friend of ours. He actually did my daughter’s wedding here at the house. I tend to always get their spinach gnocchi bolognese, as part of the arrangement on the table. The menus change but they always have it or regular gnocchi. We’ve known the Drago family for years and it’s a place a lot of our friends frequent. We love Tanino and the way he cooks, the atmosphere. It’s like going to a place that’s like family.

Another favorite is Angelini Osteria on Beverly Boulevard. Gino Angelini, the chef there, is a neighbor, so we go there a lot. When the family goes, it’s my wife and I, four kids, the kids have two husbands and a significant other, and three grandkids, so that’s 12 around the table.

We also love going to Musso & Frank Grill in Hollywood. We try to order the ribeye cap steak. It’s a limited supply, so sometimes they run out of it. For me, it’s a martini and a ribeye cap. As soon as I could afford to go out to dinner, in the early ’80s, I started to go to Musso. It’s easy to get to. Parking’s right behind the restaurant, and they’re great people. I love the history of the place, and the food is terrific. It’s a classic steakhouse.

9 p.m.: A nightcap and a little piano music

After dinner, we go home. I’d have a nightcap. Sometimes it’s a little bourbon, or an Italian digestif like Amaro Averna. Then I’d do a little piano playing. I play original material because I don’t read music. That’s how I learned the instrument, so it’s themes I’ve developed, or improvisation. I started as a percussionist when I was very young. I play all the Afro-Cuban percussion instruments that are inherent in Cuban music. I started to play piano at age 30 for a film I directed called “The Lost City,“ which I wrote the original music for. I was always interested in piano. My aunt played classical piano and it always called to me.

11 p.m.: Off to bed

I go to bed no later than 11 p.m. My ideal Sunday is always around the family. What are we doing today? Are the kids coming over? Are we cooking? Do you guys want to go out to dinner? It’s always about gathering the clan.