“The Rider” (2018)
While not featuring Asian American actors, Chloe Zhao’s film“The Rider,” is one of the most beautiful films about a specific ethnic culture produced in the last decade, and it happens to come from an APA filmmaker. It’s quite similar to many of the other movies on this list as a meditative text on grief and absence, duty and tradition, and – perhaps most specifically – moral hierarchy. Following a young man, Brady (Brady Jandreau) who has recently lost the physical ability to provide for his poverty-stricken family – descendants of the Lakota Sioux tribe who live on a Reservation – as well as his trusty horse, Apollo. Brady used to be a prodigious rodeo cowboy, but after a bad accident, the rider is left without some of his basic motor functions and begins suffering from seizures. “I got hurt like Apollo did,” Brady reflects, “Only I’m a person, so I got to live.” Brady also has a close relationship with his autistic sister and quite a complex one with his father. Family is key in Zhao’s movie, as it is in most APA driven films. The film was shot with non-actors who essentially play dramatic versions of themselves and the vibrant elegance of the cinematography sometimes feels like a poetic but realist Western shot with a more Eastern arthouse sensibility. Zhao’s filmmaking talents made broad strides and her skills caught the attention of Marvel Studios (she is slated to direct “The Eternals”). Our fingers are tightly crossed that she’ll be able to inject her precise technique and deft handling of domestic compassion into the MCU.
“Crazy Rich Asians” (2018)
Even when only comparing the cinematography of “Crazy Rich Asians” and “The Farewell” the difference in cinematic vision becomes clear. In ‘CRA’ – directed by John M. Chu and based on Kevin Kwan’s popular novel – the dream world of Singapore is seen through a kaleidoscopic adornment prism, through the dogma of “the bright lights of Hollywood” – swooping camera moves and helicopter shots. Whereas “The Farewell” uses the tonal shooting style of its precise compositional motifs to establish a prime difference in cultural perspective, a raw and honest family portrait ( the frame is almost always half empty, or half complete – with shots of the film often featuring razed communal spaces once inhabited by her ancestors – Changchun’s working class – now leveled in favor of the lavish). While ‘CRA’ does have some strong dramatic components to it, celebration is more important than sincere depiction. There is a key disparity between Nick (Henry Golding), the perfect poster child returning home in one film, and Billie (Awkwafina), who is struggling, existentially and financially. ‘Crazy Rich Asians” is intended to be indulgent fantasy, but it does also have a bite to it. It criticizes gossip and the harsh judgment of women as well as analyzes the “tiger mom” stereotype – embodied by Michelle Yeoh’s character; often arrogant, but certainly earned – it’s a glamorous film about the capacity for human empathy and acceptance.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JotB9DSdwMw
“Searching” (2018)
In taking a closer look at some of Hollywood’s more successful APA driven films released by in the past few years, a thematic pattern emerges, the emotional and literal communication gap between immigrant generations. Two films starring John Cho, “Columbus” and “Searching” follow an APA man struggling to connect with a millennial way of living. The film’s conceit is a boldly unique experimental metaphor for domestic disconnection, using only screen technology – laptops, security monitors, cell phones, etc – as its visual device. When Cho’s daughter goes missing he furiously begins searching through social media contacts in an attempt to track her down, discovering her entire screen based life is a lie. His daughter has virtually no friends or close connections. Things have been hard ever since her mother (Cho’s wife) died, and it appears they’ve never really discussed her absence. It’s a thriller that begins with caring reflection and soon begins to shift constantly, using its tension device to raise deft questions about the notion of family security and the need for parental boundaries. “Searching” is guilty of having contrived plotting methods, a couple more twists than it really needs, and a somewhat lazy climax, but it’s a very successful film emotionally – from a formal, sensory perspective; a layered mystery about the need to knock down generational barriers and talk about our secrets instead of setting up more passwords.
“Shirkers” (2018)
Sandi Tan’s seemingly impossible feat “Shirkers” is a striking film about salvaging a forgotten student film project stolen by an artistic appropriator and compulsive liar – a hybrid documentary experiment about finding a voice in the face of shocking personal betrayal. In the summer of ‘92, Tan started working on a DIY road trip movie with some friends. Her project was a means to escape – of running away and avoiding real-world responsibility; “the film was a time capsule of a Singapore that was both real and imaginary,” according to the young artist. But then, her mentor, a man named George Cardona – who claimed he was the real-life inspiration for James Spader’s character in Steven Soderbergh’s “Sex, Lies, and Videotape” (creepy, right?) – absconded with all of her footage. Years later, Tan uncovered the missing film canisters and starting making a new movie about the secret history of her lost vision. “Shirkers” is a tragic and inspiring work about losing one’s voice and finding it again through clues hidden in the past – a densely layered doc about emotional manipulation’s effect on strength and vulnerability. In finishing her powerful film, Tran proved her abilities as a cinematic artist with worldly stories to tell.
“Always Be My Maybe” (2019)
While far from a perfect movie or a perfect comedy, “Always Be My Maybe,” is a beaming celebration of Asian American representation. Ali Wong and Randall Park star as childhood best friends, Sasha Tran and Marcus Kim. Sasha always had a crush on Marcus and his mom taught her how to cook Korean food. After Marcus’ mother dies, the two have impromptu sex in the back of his car, and their relationship falls apart. Years later, they awkwardly rekindle. Wong and Park are charming and adorable on screen together, even if their chemistry suffers a little as the pair’s comic backgrounds take precedence over their dramatic acting prowess. But the silliness of the film is part of its overall appeal – featuring one of the most deliberately clunky first-time sex scenes in a rusty rattlebang that reeks of parmesan cheese. By the time Keanu Reeves shows up wearing glasses with no lenses to poke fun at his American sweetheart persona, the laugh out loud gags never cease. The movie isn’t attempting anything serious on a narrative or thematic level, but rather trying to correct a basic issue; not only hot white people fall in and out of love. Some have noted a concern that the film may further problematize the “authentic Asian cooking” issue, but the movie doesn’t appear to be attempting any sort of heavy commentary on the foibles of high-class food culture – the Daniel Dae Kim stuff is its most vapid aspect. ‘ABMM’ is simply giddy and glad to prod and poke fun at classic rom-com tropes on a prestigious platform such as Netflix, while making a bunch of inside ethnic jokes, offering its own two cents on Asian American dating life.
The overlapping issues of preserving cultural traditions and emotional communication are a common motif across Asian American films. “The Farewell,” bills itself as “based on an actual lie,” following a Chinese immigrant family struggling to decide whether it is right or wrong to tell an elder that she is dying of cancer. In the U.S., withholding such vital medical information would actually be considered illegal. But when you look at a framed photo and see two different sides pulling at you, what do you do? You can’t simply rip the photo in two. Do you lie to one side, half of the time, and the other side all the others? “I mean, if it’s for good then it’s not really a lie,” as a doctor in China might say.
It seems notable that Billie’s dad (based on Wang’s own father) is a translator – same as Cho’s character in “Columbus.” He is introduced to the audience in the midst of telling a dinner joke about death – a metaphorical jest for the inner turmoil of not knowing what emotion is appropriate to express – and is played by seasoned character actor, Tzi Ma; a representational trailblazer himself (reading for “Dante’s Peak”, producers loved his audition so much they had a whole new role written for him). In this introduction we see how disparate ideologies have taught a dual language speaker how to lie – the East to hide his true feelings, the West to mask them with comforts and a big smile.
Wang’s film opens on a painting hung on the back wall of a Chinese hospital waiting room. Green mountains surround a crystal blue lake. A woman in Changchun and her immigrant granddaughter in Manhattan chat over the phone. It’s clear pretty quickly that these two have a close relationship, but they also lie back and forth to each other throughout the whole conversation. Awkward feelings overshadow honest communication. In Asian culture(s), feeling often comes second to tradition; familial values are placed before personal fulfillment. Perhaps part of the issue is that immigrant generations simply don’t always speak the same inherited philosophy, even if they do share a common language.
