Living alone in Flushing, Queens (and loving it), Grandma (Tsai Chin) couldn’t be any tougher were she Ford-built. “Dad wouldn’t want you to be by yourself,” is the guilt-lure grandson Howard (Eddie Yu) dangles while angling to get her to move in with his family. “He doesn’t have a say,” she fumes in stifled resentment. A pervasive butt pursed between her lips (the only place you won’t find her smoking is a swimming pool), she listens intently as her crystal-gazer (Wai Ching Ho) foretells good fortune ahead. Afterwards, a visit to a casino confirms the old adage, "unlucky in cards, lucky on the bus ride home:" a satchel containing a yard of green — belonging to a mob accountant, seated next to her, who dies of a sudden heart attack — literally drops into her lap from an overhead compartment. Grandma’s losses at the tables and her subsequent reversal of fortune on the bus catch the attention of the local gangsters, and in no time she finds herself defining life in terms of film noir. There’s even a steam room confrontation between our titular octogenarian and Lady Godfather Sister Fong (Yan Xi). None of John Alton’s chiaroscuro of condensation (T-Women?), but the thought counts. It gets so she’s required to hire the services of personal enforcer Big Pong (Hsiao-Yuan Ha) to serve as a gargantuan bodyguard and run interference as she becomes the central figure in a Chinatown gang war. Director Sasie Sealy and co-screenwriter Angela Cheng come through with a terrific first hour, but quicker than one can say “Billy Crystal and Gheorghe Muresan,” the film takes a turn for the conventional. Chin makes it a delight to watch, but coincidence and careless plotting overwhelm the third act. A moment of betrayal dings sensitive Big Pong’s feelings — “I hurt people for you!” — but when Grandma gets caught in the crossfire, the big lug doesn’t stop to acknowledge the blood on her blouse. (2019) — Scott Marks
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