Kareem Abdul-Jabbar’s Criticism of Lulu Wang Reflects Hollywood’s Misunderstanding of Diversity and Inclusion
Last week, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar criticized Lulu Wang’s comment on Ron Howard’s involvement of Lang Lang’s biopic project, for her “implication that a Chinese filmmaker should tell the story of Chinese classical pianist Lang Lang,” quoted from his Hollywood Reporter column. And it pains me to read his extensive argument of why filmmakers should be able to tell whatever stories they want to tell, because he completely missed the point.
First of all, Lulu Wang never said only Chinese filmmakers could tell Lang Lang’s story. The Chinese-born writer/director and classically trained pianist said she believes that “it’s impossible to tell Lang Lang’s story without an intimate understanding of Chinese culture and the impact of the Cultural Revolution on artists and intellectuals and the effects of Western imperialism.” The question is, does an “intimate understanding” requires someone from the exact same background?
Kareem’s answer is clearly yes, according to the column. And that’s what makes him self-contradictory — if he believes that any filmmaker can tell any story, then anyone should be able to gain an intimate understanding of other cultures, which eliminates the premise of his accusation. Plus, Kareem also spent a considerable amount of space discussing the Chinese regime and ethical business practice, implying that Chinese filmmakers don’t deserve to be hired because of where they’re from. Double standards, huh?
It’s not about whose story you can tell. Anomalies like Chinese filmmaker Chloe Zhao is known for “reinventing the Western” by making films about marginalized people in the American West. The press is raving all over the rising star as she broke the record by winning both at Venice and TIFF with her latest film Nomadland. But she didn’t achieve it just because she “wanted to” but because she spent years living in South Dakota and among the people she filmed. Her predecessor and alum Ang Lee has also had a remarkable career making films from different cultures, including Sense and Sensibility, Brokeback Mountain, and Life of Pi. None of those films is about his own culture/identity, yet they all displayed great empathy for humanity.
So if a white American director cannot tell a Chinese pianist’s story, how could a Chinese director tell stories of the Native Americans, cowboys, and the British gentry in the late 1700s? Where is the line?
The thing is, empathetic filmmakers with a humble perspective are rare species, especially in a population that’s used to have everything centered around them. And the Hollywood system doesn’t look for empathy as one of the qualifications, since it’s much easier to say “find me someone who looks like this.” The problem is never “white people got the job”; it’s that qualified minority filmmakers never got the chance to present their intimate cultural understanding and creative skills. And that resulted in white people always getting the job.
Granted, it’s always harder to tell stories that are far away from you. But it’s not impossible, as long as you put in the work. British writer and anthropologist Fuchsia Dunlop was trained in a Sichuanese culinary school, and went deep in Chengdu’s streets and alleys to collect authentic recipes that I often use. Ivy Leaguer and Midwesterner Peter Hessler drove all over rural Northern China and visited coastal factories, and produced beautiful non-fictions that presented the side of China that I never experienced. Their cultural expertise comes from language fluency, thorough research, immersive experience, and keen observation. And their success proves that (even white) people can learn and tell good stories about other cultures.
I’d like to call it “method storytelling” — just like how method actors immerse themselves in their characters, these creators immerse themselves in the cultural environment they portray. It’s actually nothing new — journalists and sociologists spend years in the field to gain a deep cultural understanding. But is this level of commitment welcome in Hollywood where time is money?
Speaking of money, some may believe that money can buy expertise. I don’t doubt that Hollywood studios can recruit an army of researchers/consultants fluent in the cultural subject of their interest. Taking Mulan as an example, the all-white above-the-line crew definitely had cultural experts to lean on, because otherwise we wouldn’t see the specific choices they made in the movie. But whether they got them right was a whole other story — while knowledge is easy to gain, fair representation is extremely difficult and complicated to achieve due to the Western-centric perspective. The executives are obviously walking the thin line between exoticism and comprehensibility, both of which pander to the Western audience.
One of the pieces of evidence is the concept of “chi.” While it appears similar to Maleficent’s magic power, it has to be called “chi” since it’s a relatively familiar term to signify the Chinese element for the American audience. However, once it comes to Gong Li’s character, “shamaness” would be too foreign to understand and does not carry negative implications. So they decided to just call her a witch, even though there is no such notion in China. And as I discussed before, same goes with “filial piety”, a Confucian concept they dug up without checking its cultural context in modern Asia. This is the trope of cross-cultural storytelling: in order to be accepted, you have to be different, but not too different to be relatable. The fear for the indigestion of a foreign culture leads to a skewed filter for what can be included, and how to present them.
Deeply rooted in the exotification from Eurocentrism, this artificial filter sets apart horrible cultural appropriation from genuine storytelling and proper representation. I grew up watching imperial soap operas and wuxia movies made by Chinese creatives for the Chinese audience. The costume and production design are barely true to history, and the stories are largely based on imagination, sensationalization, and creative interpretation. But I never felt alienization or cultural appropriation because the stories still reflected my culture’s collective subconsciousness from an equal perspective.
And that’s why some filmmakers are not suitable for telling stories outside of their cultural comfort zone — not because they’re white, but because of their arrogance and prejudgement. There is just a higher chance for white filmmakers to be blind to it, because we have all more or less internalized the Eurocentric point of view. And naturally, it’s much more likely for filmmakers to exercise an equal perspective when the story subjects are from their own cultural and ethnic background.
Again, the chances are not absolute. You don’t see that filter in Chloe Zhao or Peter Hessler, because great storytellers put in great efforts to empathize without prejudice. The question is, how do we find them, foster them, and open doors for them?
The Hollywood gatekeepers need to know that checking boxes is not enough, although it seems to be the trend now that they’re eagerly trying to keep up with the demand. If we truly believe in not judging a book by its cover, we should dig deeper and find the soul within. After all, no one is born into the boxes, and should not be molded by them. The executives also have to be great empathizers, in order to resonate with such talents and adopt their perspective.
So in a way, this is a systematic challenge that comes down to who’s in power. According to UCLA’s Hollywood Diversity Report 2020, the top studio’s senior executive level is 93% white and 80% male. A similar composition applies to the directors (84.9% white and male) and writers (86.1% white and 82.6% male). And I don’t believe this is resulted from a lack of diverse talents — my class at NYU Grad Film, one of the world’s best film schools, is constructed of more than 50% women and people of color. When minority filmmakers and executives are selectively kept away from the ladder of ascension, there must be something inherently wrong with the screening mechanism.
Earlier, I was asked this question during an interview: “Do you think that the success of recent movies like Parasite, Crazy Rich Asians, and The Farewell is making producers more receptive to films directed by Asian directors?”
This is a tricky question. The success of Asian films on screen does not equal to the success of Asian directors in Hollywood, and Asian directors should not get recognized only by telling Asian stories. My answer is, until we don’t have to count our fingers to name the very few successful Asian films/filmmakers, we still have a long way to go.
Hollywood executives, if you’re reading this article — hire minority creatives. And hire them not for the boxes they check or the labels they wear, but for their capacity of empathy, unique perspectives, and of course, storytelling skills that are no lesser than their white peers. Let’s start with putting in some work, shall we?
