3/5 stars Same-sex marriage was legalised in Taiwan in 2019, but the law still prohibits these couples adopting children, unless one of the parents is genetically related to the child. Cheng Yu-chieh’s drama Dear Tenant largely ignores these legal details in its story of a gay man fighting against the prejudices of his dead partner’s family and society in general. Strong performances and a propulsive commitment to highlighting injustice make for intermittently engaging viewing, but the nagging implausibility of its central premise undermines much of the film’s good work. Nevertheless, Dear Tenant has been named one of the five best picture nominees at this year’s Golden Horse Awards . For the past five years, Lin (Mo Tzu-yi) has taken care of the nine-year-old son Yo-yu (Bai Run-yin) and ailing mother, Mrs Chou (Chen Shu-fang), of his deceased boyfriend, Li-wei (Yao Chun-yao). Living in their Kaohsiung apartment, Lin cooks, takes Yo-yu to school, and attends to Mrs Chou’s treatment and medication. But when she dies unexpectedly, her other son (Jay Shih) returns home to discover that she has left the apartment to Yo-yu, whom Lin has legally adopted. Overcome with jealousy and suspicion, he accuses Lin of murdering his mother, leading to a fierce battle for Lin’s freedom. Chen’s story has all the trappings of a compelling courtroom drama but, curiously, the writer-director instead approaches the film through a series of fractured flashbacks, as Lin contemplates his undoing from prison. Kaohsiung is portrayed as bleak and provincial, and unsympathetic towards Lin. Despite his openness around Li-wei’s family, the threat of being “outed” as homosexual remains a perpetual hindrance to Lin’s happiness. There is a suggestion that Lin was somehow responsible for Li-wei’s death, and that guilt has become his motivation, but the film never questions his suitability as a father, even as everyone around him does. Lin grapples with persecution and intimidation by police, personified by Wu Pong-fong’s unsympathetic detective, and Cherry Hsieh Chiung-hsuan’s public prosecutor, but the film repeatedly shies away from legalities in such a way as to undercut its dramatic heft. Not least among the questions the film throws up is why Yo-yu wasn’t living with his mother all this time. When Li-wei came out and his marriage deteriorated, how did he win custody of his son? And why would the same court later grant adoptive rights to Lin, rather than to a family member? Want more articles like this? Follow SCMP Film on Facebook