Wayne Wang was still sitting in a booth in a dive bar in San Francisco’s Chinatown, the same where he shot scenes for his 1985 gem, “Dim Sum: A Little Bit of Heart.” We’d spoken five years earlier, when he expressed his dismay at how little Hollywood and the indie scene had changed since the 1982 release of “Chan Is Missing,” his groundbreaking neo-noir that became the first Asian-American film in the world. modern cinema was widespread.
Now things are a little different – for Wang’s own legacy, for a new generation of Asian-American filmmakers, for the state of movies. And yet the older author, whose journey since that breakthrough has taken him down arthouse avenues to Hollywood studios and back again, is still not satisfied. When it comes to Asian-American directors, “none of the filmmakers has really dug in to say that these are our own stories and these stories are universal on one level, very specific to our culture on another level,” he said.
On the 40th anniversary of ‘Chan Is Missing’, Wang, sharply dressed and cheerful at the age of 73, experiences a belated moment of wider recognition. He is celebrating two retrospectives, in Berkeley and Los Angeles, a restored director’s cut of his daring experimental “Life Is Cheap… But Toilet Paper Is Expensive” (1989), and the Criterion Collection releases of “Chan” and “Dim Sum “.
It would be hard to find a filmmaker who not only boldly captured Chinese life at a time when it was unimaginable in American cinema, but also worked it all into one of the more eclectic careers in Hollywood, with two entries (“Chan” and “The Joy Luck Club”) on the National Film Registry. There are the Hong Kong movies (“Chinese Box”) and the New York movies (“Smoke”); the nearly career-ending erotic picture ( “The Center of the World”); the pure Hollywood period (“Maid in Manhattan”); and the return to its culturally specific indie roots (“Coming Home Again”).
“It’s because I was born and raised a mess,” Wang said, explaining it in a zigzag. After immigrating to the Bay Area from Hong Kong in 1967 at the age of 18, he suddenly became entangled in an America of Quaker families, counter-culture figures, the Black Panthers and urgently politically minded in San Francisco’s Chinatown.
Wang, who is working on an adaptation of a Yiyun Li short story and small-screen series about a Chinese-American family, spoke about his career, turning to Francis Ford Coppola for advice, and working with Jennifer Lopez. These are edited excerpts from our conversation.
Forty years later, “chan is missing” still feels timeless in how it deals with Chinese-American identity politics. Were you planning to make a film that left a mark on Chinese-American identity?
I didn’t think so. I just wanted to make an interesting, complex film. More what the Chinese and the Chinese American community is, including the new immigrants. It was more than identity. Because mainstream America had no idea who we were.
And yet the film is adamant not to give a neat portrayal of who or what the community is. It does not feel hindered by the idea of making a political statement.
Because everyone around me who was Asian or Chinese or Japanese wanted to make a movie about how badly we were treated. There was always a message. That gave me a clear picture of where I didn’t want to go. I wanted to do something more complicated, ask a little more questions instead of saying, “We’ve been treated really badly on Angel Island” [the immigration station in California]†
I only had a script to build the film. Usually what people say comes naturally. I might like to ask them: What do you think Americans really think of the Chinese? [The lead actor] Mark Hayashi used to say, “Oh God, this identity [expletive] is old news, man.” I said, “Then put it in the movie!”
Then you made a series of films about the Chinese diaspora that eventually led to ‘The Joy Luck Club’. Did you want to take your sensibilities to the mainstream?
It was a pretty conscious step.
It was a studio movie with an all-Asian cast in 1993. Did it feel like a breakthrough then?
Absolute. People were calling from Hollywood, and I knew I had to grab that energy pretty quickly. And that energy wasn’t so much “Chinese-American movies are going to do us really good.” But that’s also when I said, between “Chan,” “Dim Sum,” “Eat a Bowl of Tea,” “Joy Luck Club,” I have to do something else. Otherwise I’ll be locked in this one box. I had been working with Paul Auster on a script called Smoke. Miramax said, “What do you want to do next? We’ll just give you the money.”
It is remarkable that you have made a video with your success. You didn’t seem to be trying to climb the ladder.
I tried not to climb the ladder. I just saw Francis Ford Coppola in [an interview], talking about how the thing that drove him was actually fear and not knowing what he was doing. I functioned more or less the same way. I wanted to get into a movie that I don’t quite understand.
You and Coppola were both filmmakers from San Francisco. Were you friends?
My office was in his building, and we met and chatted. When I was recording Smoke, I was working with Harvey Keitel and Bill Hurt. I went to him [Coppola] and asked: how do you work with actors? I hadn’t worked with big Hollywood stars, and I absolutely loved them. Francis basically said: if you find the right person, give them something to do, and they’ll be fine.
I really respect [Hurt], but in some ways he’s a madman. During the first half of the shoot we became pretty good friends. Then we had three days off, and he came back with a football helmet on. I went to put my hands on his shoulders and he said, “What are you doing? Are you trying to push me down the stairs?” So he turned around like this. And the football helmet, he said, “I have to protect myself today, you’re going to hit me.” [Laughs] But he [was] one of the greatest actors, so subtle and so sensitive to everything.
What prompted you to eventually make a full-length studio movie like “Maid in Manhattan”?
“Center of the World” got such bad reviews and everyone hated what I was doing that I couldn’t get a meeting in Hollywood. A bad movie, especially an edgy sex movie, is written off. And the producers of “Maid in Manhattan” came knocking. It was probably the hardest thing I’ve ever done. The first day the executives said: [Ralph Fiennes is] losing his hair in the front – it’s not very good. What can we do? They were more concerned about Ralph Fiennes’ hair.
What was it like working with Jennifer Lopez?
It was difficult. She went out with Ben Affleck every night. And in New York [where filming took place], there is a law where the paparazzi can be in your face when taking pictures. The only time they couldn’t do it is when we do a real take. So during rehearsals they were literally here, and there were a lot of them.
Were you at peace with making purely studio films during this period?
That question is always there. I knew in the back of my mind that I could always leave and go back to what I was doing before. It just got a little hard to get off that Ferris wheel.
Now that you’ve returned to indie movies, the landscape for marginalized voices like yours has changed.
I disagree, but not to the extent that they should be. There are many more Asian-American movies. I mean everything from Ali Wong to “The Farewell” [from Lulu Wang]†
Did you like The Farwell?
I like it better than the other movies, maybe just because it’s more like mine. I’m biased that way. It’s about family. But I don’t see anyone trying to do anything in a braver way. They still try to please executives and then please an audience more, instead of going out with whatever budget they have to do something that is challenging.
The director and actor Justin Chon was in your most recent movie, “coming home again† What do you think of his movies?
I think “Gook” was the most challenging movie out there. Justin has it in his heart to do it. And I feel the pain every time I talk to him while he’s working on something. Because the producers want something, and that’s very difficult for him.
But do you empathize with Asian-American filmmakers trying to appease studios or audiences to break through?
I spoke with [the “Fast and Furious” franchise director] Justin Lin about this. He said the studios make a maximum of 15 movies each year [each] or something, and if one was made by an Asian American, that’s progress. I tend to agree. But at the same time, was there another movie completely outside the system that challenges the system or does something completely different? New.
Not just Asian Americans, it’s across the board. Formally interesting and challenging films are simply not made. All the movies have been reduced to what I would call a Disney level. [Laughs] All of this is dangerous in the long run.
The way “Chan Is Missing” happened — made over the weekend for less than $25,000 by a day-duty crew — could such a movie now be made and find an audience?
If you get a grant or an independent investor, I think it can still happen. If you’re dealing with interesting characters and a certain kind of humanity, and it’s well written, you’ll get there. I have a strong belief in that. I have to. Otherwise I’d probably just cut meat or something and become a butcher. [Laughs]