Crazy Rich Asians: An All-American Love Story?

Bix Gabriel
Sep 3, 2018 · 4 min read

Crazy Rich Asians hit its $100 million mark this weekend, and I was one of the viewers who contributed to its success at the box office. But reluctantly.

My Twitter timeline was and remains full of praise for the movie, and of course, I had read the poignant and moving reflection by Kimberly Yam, on Twitter. But I had also read critiques, like Mimi Wong’s, of the movie’s unabashed class and wealth glorification, and of its obvious dehumanization of Singaporean minorities, as Sangeeta Thanapal writes. I could see why so many Asian Americans would love this first genuine representation of a version of themselves on the Hollywood screen. But as a dark-brown skinned Indian woman who might only see herself as a silent servant in Crazy Rich Asians, I was prepared to hate and critically rip apart the movie.

But. No. I watched it last weekend, and I was surprised by it. I laughed at its sly humor, its vaguely self-conscious satire of the wealthy. I was ready to critique the characters — and yes, some of them were caricatures — but there was a range in their characterization and performances that elevated the movie beyond the traditional Hollywood rom com. Most of all though, I thought I would be offended by the rampant consumerism. But what I liked most of all, was the unapologetic pleasure of these ‘crazy rich Asians’ in the pleasures of a good life — food, fancy baubles, jet-setting. It’s not that I applaud consumerism or wealth or think that there’s a shortage of visual worship of these behaviors. What surprised and delighted me was that Asians were depicted as unrepentant about it, just as any rich people might be. It was remarkable to see the rich Singaporean Chinese in the movie not because they exploit and dehumanize other people to maintain their wealth and status, but because they’re no different from rich people everywhere.

I was puzzled by my reaction. Had I too, like Mimi Wong suggests, succumbed to the wealth porn? Why wasn’t I more outraged by the absence of Indian, indigenous, and darker-skinned Asians who do live in Singapore? Why did the movie feel so… comfortable?

The official trailer for #CrazyRichAsians, complete with diamonds, hunky abs, and private islands.

Later, scrolling through my Netflix queue and skipping over the Bollywood movies my partner (who is white American) had added to it, it clicked: I had been thinking about the movie from the perspective of who it was marketed to and made for: Americans, including Asian Americans. But I’m not quite American. I grew up in India, and return frequently. So watching Crazy Rich Asians, I responded emotionally. Like someone raised on Bollywood movies.

Seen through a non-American lens, Crazy Rich Asians is no different from the standard Bollywood plot of:

rich guy meets poor girl

they fall in love

his family objects

the girl leaves him so he can be ‘happy’

ultimately, the mother of the guy caves

the lovers are re-united

and live happily ever after.

The only difference — apart from being in English — is that unlike most Bollywood movies, Crazy Rich Asians didn’t have any song-and-dance sequences. It also had less melodrama.

Just like the majority of Hindi Bollywood movies, Crazy Rich Asians doesn’t attempt at any real representation of the poor, of minorities, of how the rich make and maintain their status. But, there’s a bit of self-consciousness to its depiction of wealth starting with the Crazy Rich part of its title.

In fact, the title’s use of ‘Asians’ is a clue to how this is movie is actually for an American gaze. Case in point: I only consider myself S.Asian in an American context; among other South Asians in the US, I call myself desi; all over Asia, I am Indian. This framing of the movie as about ‘Asians’ is convenient, and paternalistic, a mashing together of anyone who is from the continent of Asia. Sure, the title is from the book (which I haven’t read). And perhaps a title like ‘Crazy Rich Chinese’ wouldn’t be quite accurate, since though the movie features Chinese families, they’re not in China; if the movie was called ‘Crazy Rich Singaporeans,’ most Americans, perhaps even Asian Americans, wouldn’t care much about seeing it.

Viewed from the lens of an American audience, who have never seen Asians on the big screen, Crazy Rich Asians, is a milestone. But it achieves its distinction precisely by catering to and cohering to a script where ‘Asians’ are shown and seen through American eyes. This is what makes it an all-American movie. Now that I’ve realized that, knowing it wasn’t made for me, I might even go see it again.

Written by

Writer, reader, and seeker of the perfect jalebi. Fiction editor @TheOffingmag

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