REVIEW: TERMINAL USA

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This had been one of the Holy Grail of Asian American movies in terms of how difficult it was to come by a copy; now, finally, it's on DVD.

I first saw this when I was a TA for an Asian American film class taught by Alvin Lu and he screened this as one of the first films 1) because it's a great film and 2) it scares off students. Seriously, I think our enrollment fell by 20% after screening this because it's bizarre and gory but also, in my opinion, completely brilliant.

Moritsugu, along with Gregg Araki, made a reputation for themselves in the early 1990s as "bad boy" filmmakers working in a post-punk tradition. Both were also subject to some criticism within the Asian American community because, though they were AA, their early films had no AA cast or themes. Moritsugu, whether influenced by that criticism or not, fired off Terminal U.S.A, the most bitingly funny and over-the-top satires of Asian American family melodramas created - and keep in mind, this film came out before the wave of family melodramas began to crest with Joy Luck Club and it has (unfortunately) gone relatively unabated through present.

The film is big on theatrics, gore, and generally bizarreness as we watch a nuclear Japanese American family (starring Moritsugu himself) implode in the most outrageous ways. including, in no particular order, IV drug use, bathroom blow jobs, gay sex phone lines, drugs, guns, and the most improper use of a hobby horse, ever. I can't even sum it up properly.

One of these days, I'll get around to writing a more proper review but seriously, you need to see this. (Unbelievably, the film was originally produced by and screened on PBS.)

--O.W.

FEATURE: THE CLASS OF 1997

Preface: I wrote this essay for the 2007 SFIAFF Program. I was very thankful and honored that CAAM allowed me to write it...I was a little late in sending them the idea but as it turned out, they had planned to write something about the 10 year anniversary of the famed Class of '97.

The essay itself lays out what made that year so significant but to add a personal note that doesn't appear there: 1997 wasn't my first SFIAAFF but it came during the same semester I took the Asian American Film/Video course at UC Berkeley (taught by Spencer Nakasako) and it was one of the first years that I practically lived at the Kabuki during that week (or so it felt).

It was, to be sure, an amazing time to be witness to what was happening within Asian American cinema and as cliche as it sounds, that sense of change was in the air everywhere you went during that week. In hindsight, it doesn't seem any less momentous - '97 was a crucial watershed. The fact that it came 15 years after Chan Is Missing is a coincidence but a significant one at that especially since the next important year would be five years later, in 2002, when Better Luck Tomorrow and Charlotte Sometimes screened (amongst others).

THE FEATURE (originally appeared in the 2007 SFIAFF Catalog).


Class of 1997: 10 Years Later

Six filmmakers, four narrative features, one year. The Class of 1997 comprised Quentin Lee and Justin Lin’s SHOPPING FOR FANGS, Rea Tajiri’s STRAWBERRY FIELDS, Michael Idemoto and Eric Nakamura’s SUNSETS and Chris Chan Lee’s YELLOW. The arrival of this quartet in time for the ’97 SFIAAFF may have just been coincidence, but looking at the long-term evolution of Asian American independent filmmaking, it’s as if a critical mass had been waiting to coalesce.

The mid-’90s were a transitional time for Asian American narrative cinema. The most influential director of the ‘80s, Wayne Wang, had moved away from Asian American themes following 1993’s JOY LUCK CLUB. There were several new filmmakers filling in the gap, notably Canada’s Mina Shum (DOUBLE HAPPINESS, 1994) and the late Kayo Hatta (PICTURE BRIDE, 1995) but much of the Class of 1997 was comprised of an even younger, emergent generation. Lee, Lin and Lee all came almost directly out of major film schools. Cousins Idemoto and Nakamura were amateur, first-time filmmakers. Even the cohort’s “senior” member, acclaimed experimental/documentary director Tajiri, was still in her thirties.

More importantly, their films suggested that Asian American cinema was at a key thematic crossroads. Though STRAWBERRY FIELDS and YELLOW ostensibly dealt with familiar topics around the traumas of the past and family tensions of the present, they were a leap forward in artistic style and storytelling. Likewise, though SHOPPING FOR FANGS was a film about identity starring an all-Asian American cast, race and ethnicity were barely present in favor of more humorous and existential explorations of self. Following a trio of youth whiling away their summer, SUNSETS had virtually no Asian American themes whatsoever, but its depictions of suburban/rural ennui had a more universal appeal. Collectively, the four films marked a moment where the older traditions of Asian American filmmaking were being shed to make room for new, exciting and imaginative ideas, styles and stories.

Symbolic import aside, the 1997 SFIAAFF also helped plant the seeds for future groundbreaking projects. It was at this Festival where Justin Lin first met YELLOW star Jason Tobin, whom he later cast in a scene-stealing role for BETTER LUCK TOMORROW (2002). Likewise, aspiring filmmaker Eric Byler and writer Jeff Liu met actress Jacqueline Kim at the Festival and the three drove back to Los Angeles, brainstorming what would eventually become Byler’s debut, CHARLOTTE SOMETIMES (2002), a film that also starred SUNSETS’ Michael Idemoto. The Festival also saw John Cho star in both YELLOW and SHOPPING FOR FANGS; he’s since become one of the most prolific Asian American actors in Hollywood.

Perhaps the most telling evidence of how the Class of ’97 signaled a momentous change is how unextraordinary it’s become for the SFIAAFF to host any number of Asian American narrative features (this year boasts 12 in competition). Over the last decade, there’s been a blossoming of dozens of up-and-coming directors including Alice Wu (SAVING FACE), Tanuj Chopra (PUNCHING AT THE SUN), Ian Gamazon and Neill Dela Llana (CAVITE), and So Yong Kim (IN BETWEEN DAYS). Never before has the Asian American cinescape been so broad or diverse.

Yet despite that expanding scope, the most powerful moments are often the smallest. My favorite memory from the 1997 SFIAAFF came at the back of the theater during the sold-out world premiere of SUNSETS. As the credits began to roll, Idemoto and Nakamura, standing behind the seat rows, hugged one another, yelling “we did it, we did it!” It was a personal moment that went unnoticed by most of the audience still staring forward but in a sense, the two were celebrating for all of us. The labor and challenges of making the if lm were, of course, theirs, but in contributing to such an important, watershed moment, the pride and exhilaration for their accomplishment
was ours as well.

—Oliver Wang

Oliver Wang served on the SFIAAFF Screening Committee from 2000 through 2005. He is
currently a professor of sociology at CSU-Long Beach and cultural critic living in Los Angeles.

WHERE ARE THEY NOW?

• Michel Idemoto both directed and starred in the ensemble feature O.B.I.T.S. (1998) and was the lead in Eric Byler’s CHARLOTTE SOMETIMES (2002).

• Chris Chan Lee has directed television in Asia, and produced several films in the U.S. His second feature, UNDOING (2006), screens in this year’s Festival.

• Quentin Lee runs the production company Margin Films, and directed both DRIFT (2000) and ETHAN MAO (2004).

• Justin Lin has directed BETTER LUCK TOMORROW (2002), ANNAPOLIS (2006), and THE FAST AND THE FURIOUS: TOKYO DRIFT (2006). His latest fi lm, FINISHING THE GAME
(2007), screens on Opening Night at this year’s Festival.

• Eric Nakamura continues to run Giant Robot Magazine as well as its related publishing and retail ventures.

• Rea Tajiri continues to practice and teach filmmaking at schools such as UCLA, NYU, Columbia and CalArts.

PHOTO BY PAMELA GENTILE: FRONT (L–R) JUSTIN LIN, REA TAJIRI, QUENTIN LEE
BACK (L–R) CHRIS CHAN LEE, ERIC NAKAMURA, MICHAEL IDEMOTO

--O.W.

PROFILE: BETTER LUCK TOMORROW

Preface: I produced this piece for KQED's Pacific Time program back before Better Luck Tomorrow screened at the SFIAFF in 2002 but after the whole Sundance debacle. The piece includes interviews with director Justin Lin and actor Roger Fan.

THE PROFILE (originally aired on KQED's Pacific Time).

--O.W.

FEATURE: SEARCHING FOR THE ASIAN AMERICAN ROMANCE

Preface: This was originally written for the SF Bay Guardian ahead of the 1999 SFIAAFF and it tackled a theme that I continue to be interested by: whither the Asian American romance? Post-Yellow or Charlotte Sometimes, the issue probably doesn't seem as important now as it did at other points in the 1990s though I doubt it's a non-issue either even in a day and age where a show like Lost can feature an Asian couple being romantic and sexual with one another. (I should note: I wrote this piece before I ever saw Eat a Bowl of Tea, otherwise I would have definitely mentioned it.)

This topic is still something I want to write more about in the future, especially from a more scholarly point of view but regardless, it remains one of the favorite things I've ever written on Asian American film. Unfortunately, the SFBG's version no longer exists but I've reprinted the entire piece below, after the jump.


THE FEATURE.



Love Look Away

by Oliver Wang

In Rodgers and Hammerstein's 1962 musical/film, *The Flower Drum Song*, a young Chinese American, Wang Ta, is faced with the unenviable dilemma of choosing his wife-to-be. His father wants him to accept an arranged marriage with the demure but clever Mei Li. However, his aunt has other ideas, suggesting, "let them fall in love. That is the American way." And so Wang Ta awkwardly does, and by the end he has fallen for Mei Li - "on his own" so to say - and a double wedding of kisses, hugs and smiles brings the movie to a predictable, pat ending.

Whatever problems - and there are many - that we might have with Rodgers and Hammerstein's representation of 1950s Chinatown society, *The Flower Drum Song* is remarkable as one of the few cinematic examples where Asian Americans experience the basic pleasure of romantic love. However dramatically overwrought and ubiquitous "romance" has become in the American movie industry,it is notably missing from the 30-odd years of Asian American film making

Economic and political priorities during the 1970s/80s era of Asian American documentaries didn't include a focus on romantic love. Likewise, when family melodramas emerged in the 80s and 90s, the focus tended to be on *dys*functional relationships between Asian Americans (Wayne Wang's *Joy Luck Club* for example). Where romantic love did exist was usually reserved for interracial relationships (Mira Nair's "Mississippi Masala", Mina Shum's *Double Happiness*), presumably as a way for Asian Americans (usually women) to shed the stigma of being the Orientalized Other and/or rebel against the static conservatism of their immigrant parents. Whatever the case, even as Asian American cinema expanded its horizons, *intra*-racial love was rarely part of the plan.

Explaining this dearth is complex, drawing on a collision of psychological, sociological, political and economic reasons that are understandable, but don't necessarily alleviate the alienation that some Asian Americans feel. Filmmaker Renee Tajima-Peña (*Who Killed Vincent Chin?*), shares, "I'd always felt cheated of Asian American romance - even as a kid. I don't remember seeing an Asian American couple kiss on screen until Michael Uno's *The Wash*. What a relief when I saw it. I was almost wondering how I'd been conceived."

This is not to desperately advocate for a "yellowized" version of *You Got Mail* in order to fulfill some primal need for romantic representation. It'd be naive to think that Asian Americans can't manage to fall in love on their own without cinematic illustration. Yet ,there is something disturbing about the relative absence of images that reflect and validate the ways that Asian Americans experience love with one another. The new market for black middle-class romance (*Love Jones*, *How Stella Got Her Groove Back*) suggests that some African American audiences are interested in seeming themselves outside of the typical, ghetto movie. For many Asian Americans though, we've grown up wondering why our own stories of love and loss never seemed captured on celluloid.

Interestingly enough, this topic of love, Asian American style, comes to an unintended fore in this year's SFIAAFF. Through a collection of shorts and features, the Festival offers some interesting points of departure for further diversifying - and complicating - the topic of Asian American romance. The most explicit example is *Ways of Dating*, a program featuring six short films/videos that deal with the trials and tribulations of Asian American relationships.

What stands out in many of the program's movies is how "natural" many of the relationships seem. The weight of identity politics initially hangs over Raymond Leung's *Yellow Fever*, especially as a gay, Chinese Englishman confronts his own Anglo-philia. However, as he opens up to the advances of his attractive Taiwanese neighbor, our protagonist emancipates himself from his internalized racism, allowing him to reciprocate his neighbor's affections without feeling overly self-conscious about being into "sticky rice" (i.e. queer Asian/Asian pairings).

More telling are the pair of video shorts produced by UC Berkeley undergraduates: Wendy Shih-Wen Lin's *It's Not My Fault* and Aram Collier/Debbie Lim's *One April Morning*. In these two movies, Asian American couples are portrayed without a hint of racial self-consciousness - relationships so normal they're almost pedestrian. Importantly though, the couples never seem encumbered by a suffocating identity politics. Whatever problems they experience aren't linked to social sources of dysfunction, but are instead couched in the mundane, everyday conflicts of miscommunication, personality differences, or just bad luck.

What all of these films end up imagining is a world where Asian Americans fall in and out of love without always having to do so in reaction to mainstream (read: white) America. While this may divert from the original intent of Asian American film to explicitly confront white racism, there is something refreshing about giving these characters the agency to explore Asian American love that is freed from social implications. Like other recent SFIAAFF selections, notably Chris Chan Lee's *Yellow* (1997) and Tajima-Peña's *My America* (1998), simply watching Asian Americans flirt, get infatuated and exchange affection takes on radical sets of meaning considering how infrequently we see these basic human experiences reflected on screen.

Beyond the explicit portrayl of Asian American romance though is also a deepening appreciation of the myriad forms love can appear in. Especially in acknowledging the Asian immigrant experience, Western ideals of love, sex and passion hold little meaning for families fighting for survivial. However, a potential place of compromise could lie with Greg Pak's mini-documentary *Fighting Grandpa*. In it, Pak tries to explore the relationship between his Korean immigrant grandparents by combing through old home movies and interviews with his relatives. Pak is motivated to find evidence of whether "[grandpa] really loved [grandma], he just didn't know how to show it." In the process, Pak shows how his grandparents' marriage suffered through wartime separation and immigrant struggle as well as the familiar themes of Asian patriarchy and cultural dispassion.

Not surprisingly, the surface picture that Pak initially finds, corroborated by his relatives, is that his grandparents had a strained relationship, absent of affection and meaningful communication. Yet, underneath this impersonal exterior, Pak finds subtle hints of a deeper love, what he describes as a "tenderness there that I could only get a glimpse of." However buried the evidence is, it relieves some of Pak's anxiety and he ends the film not with a definitive answer, but a quiet set of unspoken questions over what Asian American love can entail.

If the Festival's other films aspire to the important goal of portraying our ways of romance, *Fighting Grandpa* urges us to go beyond just on-screen kisses and love-making to explore the issue of Asian American love. The tenderness Pak finds between his grandparents may not conform to a standard of red roses and wine, but even the whisper of love he uncovers is intensely validating all the same. These selections from the SFIAAFF may not represent a blossoming of the Asian American romance, but within them, we can find the potential seeds of catharsis that promise to release Asian American love onto the screen.

--O.W.