After watching this hit movie starring two leading men, I no longer understand comedy.

With themes of comradeship, ghost marriages, and featuring stars like Greg Hsu and Austin Lin, and with director Cheng Wei-hao—renowned in Taiwan for hits like “The Tag-Along,” “Who Killed Cock Robin,” and “The Soul”—how could anyone not be intrigued and excited?

I finally watched it at the Hong Kong International Film Festival. Although the theater atmosphere was excellent, I found myself neither genuinely laughing nor moved to tears by the end.

Reflecting on this afterward made me wonder if it was my problem. However, I believe that director Cheng Weihao might lose himself in climbing box office numbers due to the movie’s overall plastic feel and slogan-like core.

01
Character Stereotyping

Greg Hsu plays an incredibly “dumb” straight man whose character arc only shifts from being homophobic to understanding minority groups better.

Austin Lin’s role as the “soul” lacks individuality; he’s merely a weeping ghost longing for eternal love—a tool for advancing the plot with poorly written lines.

Aaron Yan plays a cold-hearted scumbag while Mao’s father portrays a verbally harsh but internally caring dad. All characters are annoyingly stereotypical—aside from its gimmick of a gay ghost marriage—there’s nothing new here.

Even compared with other Taiwanese LGBTQ+ films like Dear Ex or Your Name Engraved Herein, this movie falls short significantly.

02
Forced Humor

Good comedies need solid setups and character relationships before developing plots where humor naturally arises—not relying on puns or slapstick comedy alone.

For instance, in Norway’s recent film Sick of Myself, humor stems from narcissistic personalities rather than forced gags.

In Marry My Dead Body, scenes like Greg Hsu dancing feel purely designed for laughs without any contextual character relationships—making audience laughter feel awkwardly forced like slapstick comedy or puns would do.

03
Crowd-Pleasing Plot

From casting choices onward efforts were made to please audiences: choosing popular young actors like Greg Hsu & Austin Lin; using songs by LGBTQ+ icon Jolin Tsai extensively during fight/disco scenes; including scenes showing Greg Hsu’s buttocks or attempting masturbation—all catering towards viewer preferences yet leaving anti-gay discrimination themes shallowly addressed through mere slogans.

How exactly did Mao’s father’s attitude change?

Did seeing his son fall madly in love with such an unfaithful scumbag suddenly make him realize he should respect/give freedom towards his gay son instead?

Wouldn’t that increase homophobia instead?

Or did understanding come posthumously after losing his son altogether?

These contradictions render everything twisted—similar feelings arise regarding Wang Jing’s female cop role too.

Greg Hsu & Austin Lin remain friends throughout—the so-called CP (couple pairing) shipping thus feels one-sidedly wishful thinking only.

Moreover isn’t forcing straight men into same-sex ghost marriages equally anti-human compared against forcing gays into heterosexual marriages?

Why criticize one while praising another novelty-wise?

Indeed homophobia needs addressing—but forcing straight men into same-sex ghost marriages disrespects LGBTQ+ communities likewise.

Of course one might argue fictional settings shouldn’t face real-world value judgments—but presenting concept-driven scripts featuring popular actors prematurely blurs concepts further instead.

Supporting gender/racial/sexual orientation equality reflects humanity’s evolving civilization continuously—but not through coercing straight men into same-sex ghost marriages nor portraying gays promiscuously heartless either way.

When everything serves script purposes alone—this film feels cheaply consumerist akin its opening car chase effects full-on cheapness reflecting today’s consumerist era instead.