Sean Baker is arguably our reigning cinematic poet of America's underground economy. The heroes of Baker’s films are never born into privilege. The concept of wealth is not one that exists in the world of these individuals, who are rarely, if ever supported by well-paying jobs or stable family structures. If the characters in Baker's films do have a family, it is almost always a chosen one. The name of the game is always making enough money to get through the day, by any means necessary.

Baker’s star has risen considerably since he broke through the proverbial D.I.Y. ceiling and into the indie mainstream off the success of a run of vibrantly funny character studies centered around the subject of sex work. Starlet, Baker’s shambling, entirely unexpected arthouse buddy movie, was a film that deftly understood pornography as an unglamorous day-to-day grind, at least as it’s traditionally existed in the San Fernando Valley. Then, of course, there was Tangerine, that scrappy masterpiece about trans sex workers in Hollywood, and the effervescent The Florida Project, about a hustler/occasional sex worker and her 6-year-old daughter living in a motel on the outskirts of Florida’s Walt Disney World theme park. Last year’s Red Rocket was Baker’s grodiest and most vivid bit of sex work portraiture to date: a squeamish study of a washed-up porno stud as an unapologetic user of people.

In all of these films, characters come by money however they can, no matter how unscrupulous or “illicit” their pursuit might appear to outsiders. Before this recent series of films, however, Baker’s authorial interests were very clearly set in place. See: Take Out, the exceptional 2004 indie that Baker co-directed with fellow filmmaker and producer Shih-Ching Tsou, which will be seeing a newly restored release via The Criterion Collection on September 13th.

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How Baker and Tsou's Collaboration Began

take out
Image via Criterion

Tsou moved to New York City in the late 90’s, where she met Baker whilst enrolled in classes at The New School. Tsou and Baker have collectively expressed a desire to tell stories in the realm of cinema that lend a voice to underrepresented communities. Knowing that, Take Out is arguably one of the purest expressions of Baker’s interest in our country's marginalized or overlooked citizens, though it should also be mentioned that Tsou, who co-wrote the screenplay with Baker, lends the movie on a whole a degree of cultural insight that a white male filmmaker simply would not have access to on its own. While Baker has assumed solo directing duties with every project in the wake of 2008’s Prince of Broadway, the pair have continued to work together over the years: Tsou remains a vital creative voice behind the scenes of these pictures, having produced everything from Starlet to Red Rocket and assuming odd costuming and acting credits when she can.

Take Out Is a Day in the Life Narrative

take out 2004 film
Image via Criterion

In the tradition of neo-realist masterworks like The Bicycle Thieves and Shoeshine (both of which were directed by Vittorio de Sica), Take Out is a day-in-the-life narrative about an ordinary man and what happens when the bottom falls out from beneath his feet. Our protagonist is Ming Ding, played in a heartbreaking performance by actor Charles Jang. Ming is working his tail off as a deliveryman for a Chinese take-out joint in the city. He frequently sends money to his family back home. There is, however, a considerable problem. Jang owes money to some threatening individuals who helped smuggle him into the U.S., and these individuals are not above resorting to violent reprisal if the debt is not repaid in good time.

Take Out proceeds to follow Ming over the course of an increasingly frenetic day as he bicycles to and from the restaurant where he works, making as many deliveries as he can and dealing with customers whose responses run the gamut from polite indifference to outward hostility. The film is the definition of a lo-fi independent feature shot on a shoestring budget, and yet, it is as engrossing in its moment-to-moment anxiety as any Hollywood thriller made for millions upon millions of dollars – precisely because we care about what happens to Ming, and we so badly want him to come up with the money.

The film’s most distressing scene occurs when Ming is mugged and robbed of the cash he has on him by two youths after making a delivery. It’s a harrowing moment – one that will not only trigger PTSD for any New Yorker who has experienced a similar situation, but also since we’ve seen Ming deal with so many other mundane workday hardships on his quest to reach his necessary tally of $800. The cruelty is amplified by the thoughtlessness of the whole exchange. In the world of Take Out, all the hard work in the world won’t save you from life’s random chaos. Bad things happen to good people, and the myth that you can pull yourself up by your bootstraps is just that: a myth. And yet, it is critical that Tsou and Baker never lose sight of their deep, unwavering empathy for Ming: Take Out is not some miserabilist dirge about a stooge being dragged through the muck. Rather, it is an honest and admirably unsentimental look at what it means to survive in America when you’re not born into whiteness or affluence.

Take Out Tackles America's Class Divide

take out criterion
Image via Criterion

In an interview with Indiewire, Baker claimed that some of Take Out’s more noteworthy stylistic influences included the Dardenne Brothers, Ken Loach, and Mike Leigh, among others. In the vein of the work done by these aforementioned geniuses, Take Out is a picture that explicitly sets its sights on America’s class divide. There are no overleveraged plot contrivances, or narrative hoops that Ming must jump through in order to reach some unattainable goal. All that matters, in the world of this film, is getting by. It's not about success, it's about survival. Long before The Bear became one of 2022's water cooler shows, Take Out managed to capture the highly specific form of cacophonous mania that can engulf a restaurant staff during peak hours, much of which can be credited from the filmmaker's decision to keep the cameras rolling in a real restaurant during their real hours of operation.

Apart from its more thematically multifaceted virtues, Take Out is an affirmation of the integrity of true independent filmmaking. It offers definitive proof that you do not need special effects, movie stars, or a needlessly complicated plot to keep audiences on the edge of their seats. Sometimes, all you need is compassion, a sharp eye, and a central dilemma that is both simple and universal in nature.