General Tso’s Asia
An indispensable term in Singlish (i.e. Singaporean pidgin English), “kiasu” in Hokkien means fear of losing. The prologue in Kevin Kwan’s Singapore-set novel “Crazy Rich Asians” — as well as Jon M. Chu’s movie adaptation — perfectly encapsulates these words Singaporeans live by, even though it in fact flashes back to 1980s’ London.
Eleanor Sung-Young, a crazy rich matriarch played by Michelle Yeoh in the film, arrives at a hotel on a rainy night with her sister and their respective children in tow. At the sight of the puddle of mud forming at the kids’ feet, the concierge and manager rescind her reservation for a suite. They do not even permit her to phone her husband from the premises, promptly sending them all back out in the rain. The family returns moments later, and the staff threaten to call the cops — until they learn that Eleanor’s husband has just bought the hotel out of spite. It’s a hugely satisfying moment, the kind we live for.
In this society, nothing is more humiliating than not measuring up, being slighted or being underestimated. The kiasu mentality has been the driving force behind scads of academic overachievers and many an overseas shopping spree to procure status symbols.
“Crazy Rich Asians” proceeds to recount the culture shock Rachel Chu (Constance Wu), an Asian American faculty member at New York University, experiences as she accompanies her boyfriend, Nicholas Young (Henry Golding), to a wedding in Singapore. The shock is twofold: Asian American vis-à-vis Asian Asian and bourgeois vis-à-vis aristocrat. Nick happens to be the offspring of none other than Eleanor.
The story unfolds predictably, which is not necessarily a bad thing. It’s a thoroughly crowd-pleasing rom-com seldom seen these days. As such, it dumbs down some of the finer points of Asian American identity from Kwan’s novel, such as the fact that Rachel would not even entertain the idea of dating an Asian man before meeting Nick.
Much of the prerelease criticism of the film has had to do with the fact that Golding is only half Asian. He’s absolutely fine as a leading man, most analogous to Aaron Kwok with a tan and a British accent. But as an Asian American who once lived in Singapore, I struggle to relate to and identify with the film. No, my family’s not crazy rich. We’re comfortable, as Nick would say. But the Singabore I know is notoriously devoid of nightlife. Culturally speaking, there is no way these people would be throwing bachelor and bachelorette parties as depicted. I suppose Kwan is to blame, since it’s also in the source material. For an accurate depiction of such a wedding and reception in this milieu, see Edward Yang’s “Yi Yi.”
The “Crazy Rich Asians” soundtrack, though, is inexcusable. It’s reminiscent of that unintelligible cover of “Anything Goes” delivered by a qipao-clad Kate Capshaw in the opening scene of “Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom.” Most Mandarin songs featured in “Crazy Rich Asians” are oldies from the 1950s and 1960s that will resonate only with Chinese people over 60. Then there are Cantonese covers of Madonna’s “Material Girl” and Coldplay’s “Yellow,” which will amuse Westerners and no one else. Neither is remotely reflective of present-day Singapore and beyond. You don’t even have to venture far to know what kind of music is popular over there — just stop by any bubble tea parlor in New York City.
That soundtrack leaves one wondering ultimately for whom this film is made. It’s a legitimate question, since much of the hoopla centers on it being the first Hollywood production in a quarter century to feature a predominantly Asian American cast. I suppose people will never give the “Harold & Kumar” trilogy its due credit or accept it as proof that American moviegoers really have no aversion to Asian American leads.
I wondered the same in 1994 when I saw Ang Lee’s “Eat Drink Man Woman” in a Seattle arthouse with an overwhelmingly white audience that chuckled at all the cultural differences — none of which struck me as peculiar or funny. It felt as though my culture had been reduced to some sort of ethnographic freak show. Perhaps Lee’s “Father Knows Best” trilogy — which also included “Pushing Hands” and “The Wedding Banquet” — purposefully pandered to a Western audience. The fact that James Schamus shared writing credits further fueled my suspicion. With all due respect to his tenure at Columbia University and 11-year stewardship at Focus Features, it made little sense for him to be taking credit for screenplays with such cultural specificities and dialogues written entirely in Mandarin. Still, no working journalist or critic in the United States found any of that to be unusual.
Alice Wu’s “Saving Face” arrived a decade later, borrowing liberally from the “Father Knows Best” trilogy. Reviewing it for the now-defunct Vancouver alt-weekly WestEnder, I concluded that Asian American filmmakers were indeed playing specifically to Western audiences because the films ultimately affirmed Western values and status quo. To be fair, they are far from the only ones guilty of this. Indeed, the entire arthouse circuit is full of seemingly exotic films that seek to make audiences feel worldly without necessarily challenging their worldviews. Anything else might have a difficult time securing financing, festival exposure, distribution and bookings.
At a press junket for his fifth Mandarin-language film, “Lust, Caution,” I finally got a chance to ask Lee my nagging question. Usually mild-mannered and reserved, Lee snapped and responded that his Mandarin-language films were made for all mankind (i.e. not exclusively for Westerners). Another journalist from my roundtable, which was designated for New York-area Chinese press, pulled me aside afterward to clue me in on the fact that Lee was upset because he had already been quizzed about his intended audience repeatedly by the Taiwanese press.
Recently in preparation for interviewing the iconic Taiwanese actress and filmmaker Sylvia Chang for The New York Times, I watched “Eat Drink Man Woman” for the second time. At home without other moviegoers ruining my viewing experience, the film proved superior to what I had remembered. Lee incorporated a soundtrack that was completely reflective of the time and place. I recognized this world and belonged in it. As for “Crazy Rich Asians,” it’s just another Hollywood fantasy to me as much as I want it to succeed and pave the way for more Asian American representation in Hollywood.
