In this documentary, Arthur Dong presents much more than just a dry accounting of the history of Chinese Americans in film. We of course see the highly problematic early decades, the struggle to achieve authentic representation, and the pioneers along the way, leading in to the films of the (then) present day, but what brings the documentary to life is the collection of celebrities who offer their clearly unscripted commentary. We see a breadth of opinions, sometimes contradictory, and Dong does a great job showing clips that support what is being said.
It's also quite balanced in the sense that opinions are expressed that explain old films in the context of the period they were made, and even though I didn't always agree with some of it, found it refreshingly far from being a heavy-handed polemic. With that said, some of the best bits were the more pointed things James Hong, B. D. Wong, Tsai Chin, Wayne Wong, and Amy Tan had to say. There were many others, and without producing a long list, I'll just say it's always delightful to see Nancy Kwan, who radiates such positive energy.
Speaking of Kwan, I found the discussion on Flower Drum Song 1961 fantastic, as I've always thought it an underrated film for how progressive it was at the time and how entertaining it still is today. At the same time, aspects of the film which were unfortunate are mentioned, like the Chop Suey song, and the casting of a Japanese American (Miyoshi Umeki) in one of the lead roles.
Another great discussion was on the Charlie Chan series of films from the 1930's and 40's, pointing out more than the obvious things like Warner Oland being in yellowface, but how his pidgin speech and silly aphorisms were completely inauthentic to how Chinese Americans speak. At the same time, there are comments about how progressive Keye Luke's character was as "number one son," being intelligent and fluently bilingual among other things.
Many other landmark films are covered, such as Chan is Missing (1982), Joy Luck Club (1993), and Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon (2000). There were also great points made about what it means to be a Chinese American actor, needing to take parts to survive, feeling an erosion of self-worth when roles continue to target specific or stereotypical aspects of cultural identity, and how actors coming over from Asia did not have these issues. It's significant that there was almost always a dearth of parts following any major breakthrough.
The very earliest Chinese filmmakers are covered, and Arthur Dong should be commended for having discovered two reels of Marion E. Wong's The Curse of Quon Gwon: When the Far East Mingles with the West (1916) while making this documentary. We hear from Wong's children, as well as the son of James B. Leong, who produced, wrote, and directed Lotus Blossom (1921). Unfortunately after these initial forays and financial disappointments, the equivalent to, say Oscar Micheaux and the "race films" for African Americans did not develop. Dong did a great job in his excerpts and I loved seeing bits from films I haven't seen, but thought he might have also included something from the truly heinous Old San Francisco (1927).
My biggest complaint, however, was in the treatment of Anna May Wong, who is mentioned, but in too small a way for my taste. There was no descendant or biographer there to take her place and speak for her. There are some pointed comments made about the casting of The Good Earth (1937), but there is a surprising level of rationalization for the decisions MGM made. We hear that Anna May Wong got an audition for the part, but not at all the incredibly racist argument that casting director Albert Lewin made, that "despite their ethnicity, they (Chinese American actors) did not fit his conception of what Chinese people looked like." We're kind of left with the impression that Wong was too idealistic in thinking she could have gotten the part, and that she was auditioned and somehow failed. The criticisms of MGM, Irving Thalberg, and Sidney Franklin are "too nice," something which may have been different had this been made in 2023.
On top of it, we have several clips of 90-something year old Luise Rainer, justifying the decision-making - my god, Anna May Wong must have been rolling over in her grave. Frankly, there was also too much of Christopher Lee as well, much as I like him. To hear explaining how much of an ordeal it was to have his eyes being made up to appear Asian was ridiculously off point.
We see Joan Chen (somewhat curiously in my opinion) praise Bernardo Bertolucci's The Last Emperor (1987), and then explain how out of a lack of parts, she had to break with Hollywood and go to Tibet to make Xiu Xiu: The Sent Down Girl (1988). We hear Nancy Kwan and several others say that they were actors and had to take the parts that were available them to stay in the profession. It would have been nice to hear how Anna May Wong faced the very same issues, getting criticized by Chinese American intellectuals and people in Chinese for the servile parts she took, and then broke with Hollywood by traveling to London to make the landmark Piccadilly (1929). It felt like there was an interesting layer of history as well as the debate within the community missing here.
Overall, however, this is a great documentary, brimming with positive energy despite the struggle, and filled with insightful commentary. The accompanying book, published twelve years later, is also brilliant.
It's also quite balanced in the sense that opinions are expressed that explain old films in the context of the period they were made, and even though I didn't always agree with some of it, found it refreshingly far from being a heavy-handed polemic. With that said, some of the best bits were the more pointed things James Hong, B. D. Wong, Tsai Chin, Wayne Wong, and Amy Tan had to say. There were many others, and without producing a long list, I'll just say it's always delightful to see Nancy Kwan, who radiates such positive energy.
Speaking of Kwan, I found the discussion on Flower Drum Song 1961 fantastic, as I've always thought it an underrated film for how progressive it was at the time and how entertaining it still is today. At the same time, aspects of the film which were unfortunate are mentioned, like the Chop Suey song, and the casting of a Japanese American (Miyoshi Umeki) in one of the lead roles.
Another great discussion was on the Charlie Chan series of films from the 1930's and 40's, pointing out more than the obvious things like Warner Oland being in yellowface, but how his pidgin speech and silly aphorisms were completely inauthentic to how Chinese Americans speak. At the same time, there are comments about how progressive Keye Luke's character was as "number one son," being intelligent and fluently bilingual among other things.
Many other landmark films are covered, such as Chan is Missing (1982), Joy Luck Club (1993), and Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon (2000). There were also great points made about what it means to be a Chinese American actor, needing to take parts to survive, feeling an erosion of self-worth when roles continue to target specific or stereotypical aspects of cultural identity, and how actors coming over from Asia did not have these issues. It's significant that there was almost always a dearth of parts following any major breakthrough.
The very earliest Chinese filmmakers are covered, and Arthur Dong should be commended for having discovered two reels of Marion E. Wong's The Curse of Quon Gwon: When the Far East Mingles with the West (1916) while making this documentary. We hear from Wong's children, as well as the son of James B. Leong, who produced, wrote, and directed Lotus Blossom (1921). Unfortunately after these initial forays and financial disappointments, the equivalent to, say Oscar Micheaux and the "race films" for African Americans did not develop. Dong did a great job in his excerpts and I loved seeing bits from films I haven't seen, but thought he might have also included something from the truly heinous Old San Francisco (1927).
My biggest complaint, however, was in the treatment of Anna May Wong, who is mentioned, but in too small a way for my taste. There was no descendant or biographer there to take her place and speak for her. There are some pointed comments made about the casting of The Good Earth (1937), but there is a surprising level of rationalization for the decisions MGM made. We hear that Anna May Wong got an audition for the part, but not at all the incredibly racist argument that casting director Albert Lewin made, that "despite their ethnicity, they (Chinese American actors) did not fit his conception of what Chinese people looked like." We're kind of left with the impression that Wong was too idealistic in thinking she could have gotten the part, and that she was auditioned and somehow failed. The criticisms of MGM, Irving Thalberg, and Sidney Franklin are "too nice," something which may have been different had this been made in 2023.
On top of it, we have several clips of 90-something year old Luise Rainer, justifying the decision-making - my god, Anna May Wong must have been rolling over in her grave. Frankly, there was also too much of Christopher Lee as well, much as I like him. To hear explaining how much of an ordeal it was to have his eyes being made up to appear Asian was ridiculously off point.
We see Joan Chen (somewhat curiously in my opinion) praise Bernardo Bertolucci's The Last Emperor (1987), and then explain how out of a lack of parts, she had to break with Hollywood and go to Tibet to make Xiu Xiu: The Sent Down Girl (1988). We hear Nancy Kwan and several others say that they were actors and had to take the parts that were available them to stay in the profession. It would have been nice to hear how Anna May Wong faced the very same issues, getting criticized by Chinese American intellectuals and people in Chinese for the servile parts she took, and then broke with Hollywood by traveling to London to make the landmark Piccadilly (1929). It felt like there was an interesting layer of history as well as the debate within the community missing here.
Overall, however, this is a great documentary, brimming with positive energy despite the struggle, and filled with insightful commentary. The accompanying book, published twelve years later, is also brilliant.