It makes sense that Charles Yu’s acclaimed 2020 novel “Interior Chinatown” would eventually be adapted into a TV series. After all, its title is taken from a screenplay’s slugline, and the entire novel is written in a screenplay format. Further, Yu’s writing on “Westworld,” “Lodge 49,” and “Legion” suggests a writer interested in heady concepts and maximalist execution. It seems like a straightforward jump from script to screen, right?
Yet, while the show is amusing and insightful in fits and starts as it dismantles the cliches surrounding minority representation in police procedurals, it’s also a confounding mix of contrasting tones and styles. That seems purposeful, as Yu and first-episode director/executive producer Taika Waititi dial up the juxtaposition between the grounded reality of Willis Wu’s (Jimmy O. Yang) existence as a waiter in a Chinatown restaurant and the over-the-top conspiracy that he lands himself in.
A background actor in his own story, Wu’s existence is a constant cycle of work at his Uncle’s Chinese restaurant, with his equally marginalized friend Fatty (Ronny Chieng) and his home life with his parents (Tzi Ma and Diana Lin). As the show begins, Willis sees a kidnapping that leads him into the world of ‘Black and White,’ a crime procedural led by Turner (Sullivan Jones) and Green (Lisa Gilroy), two hardened cops straight out of a “Law and Order” spoof.
While investigating the crime, the two detectives are forced to take on Lana Lee (Chloe Bennet), a newer detective assigned to the case as the ‘Chinatown expert’ based on her race. Lee and Wu eventually team up, hoping to break out of their assigned cultural roles and become the protagonists in their own stories. All the while, they try to solve the case of Wu’s missing brother (Chris Pang), a Kung Fu master who went missing years before.
Sound like a lot? It is. Added to this overwhelming narrative is the fact that the show is a meta-spoof of crime shows. Whenever Turner and Green show up, the show’s lighting changes to the type of over-exposed fluorescence that defines procedurals, making “Interior Chinatown” feel like two different shows smashing into each other. One feels like discarded episodes of “Angie Tribeca,” and the other feels like a semi-grounded bildungsroman about Wu’s self-exploration.
With that meta-approach, the show will probably be compared to AMC’s short-lived “Kevin Can Go F*** Himself” in format, if not content. That show juxtaposed the husband’s sitcom existence against his wife’s gritty, realistic life in ways that were always interesting to think about but less interesting to actually watch. “Interior Chinatown” suffers from the same problem. It’s a great pitch but a less realized exploration.
The conceit is obvious, even from the episodic titles—“Generic Asian Man,” “Delivery Guy,” “Tech Guy,” etc. Yu is trying to dismantle the cliches and stereotypes that have defined Asian characters in shows and movies. Yet in five out of ten episodes screened for review, the narrative is frantic in a way that makes the overarching mystery hard to track.
It doesn’t help that Wu’s self-discovery is essentially staged as levels in a video game. In one episode, he has to break into the evidence locker, constantly repeating the process as he gets closer and closer to distracting the officers and janitors from giving himself time to look for clues related to his brother.
In ‘Kevin’ there was never a sense that the husband’s heighted-sitcom life was actual reality. That, at least, grounded the show in a firm point of view, even as it played off the juxtaposition between invention and reality. Here, it’s hard to tell what we ashouldview as the narrative ‘truth,’ decreasing the stakes of Wu’ and Lee’s investigation. It doesn’t help that there doesn’t seem to be any actual repercussions when the two fail.
More compelling and amusing are the subplots related to Fatty and Wu’s parents. Here, we still have questions about what type of show they exist in, but we also have a better sense of how people are placed into cultural, racial, and economic boxes and how they attempt to break out of those stereotypes. Fatty’s elevation to the role of ‘angry waiter’ at the restaurant, which brings in a multitude of white hipsters to revel in being yelled at, is quite funny, even if it’s one-note. The same goes for Lily, who tries to get her real-estate license and give her family some financial security.
“Interior Chinatown” is never anything less than interesting, but it also never gives the sense that it has fully thought through the relationship between its formal/technical choices and content. Perhaps the back half of the miniseries will answer some of these questions. But, halfway through, it feels under-realized. [C+]
“Interior Chinatown” is streaming on Hulu now.
