Big Trouble In Little China: Then and Now

When I was 6 years old, I went to see a movie with my family: Big Trouble in Little China. This was a big deal for me on multiple levels - first, because my family hardly ever went to see movies in the theatre; and second, because this proved to be my newest favorite movie EVER!!!

And it kind of still is.

As a 6 year-old (and later years, when I kept watching over and over to the point of obsession*), the movie offered me all the exciting action I could ask for. There were cool martial arts stunts, explosions, guns, magic and an exciting adventure. There were monsters and gods. And there were a TON of Chinese main characters! Badguys, sure, but also the goodguys - and ALL of them were total badasses. Lightning (pictured above - one of the "Three Storms," who were god-like villains) was probably the coolest character ever created, and he didn't even speak English!**

Of course, Kurt Russell was the focal protagonist, but he was one of only three white people in the entire film. And - better yet - he was totally out of his element and needed massive help and support (or, really, leadership) from the Chinese guys all around him. Equally focal to the story was his best friend, Wang, who was all kinds of awesome. As a kid, when I was playing with my best friend (a white kid), he would be "Jack" (Kurt Russell's character), and I would be "Wang" - and I definitely thought I had gotten the better end of that exchange.***

I watched that movie so much that I can almost recite the whole thing word-for-word, even now. And I've found myself wondering - why that movie? There have been so many martial-arts-type movies since my childhood - why was that one so special to me?

And so I now turn my adult eye and mind to the film, and I think I get it. Because, considering it came out in 1986, that movie was revolutionary in its depiction of minorities. The Chinese people weren't the weirdos and extras in the movie. Instead, Jack - the muscle-bound white "hero" - is the stranger. He constantly "talks the talk" while being exposed for his cluelessness. He's totally out of his element, and it's the Chinese characters who have to bring him along for the day to be saved. Some of the plot-line is drawn from ancient Chinese mythology, and it is treated with relative respect. Again, Jack's questioning of the "myths" is depicted to show him as the unbelieving barbarian - while the Chinese folks who know their truth go about taking care of business.

Even better - the one strong white character in the movie? A woman (played by Kim Cattrall of Sex in the City fame). She's familiar with Chinatown and its subculture. She's strong. She mocks Jack's ridiculous attempts to hit on her. Granted, she ends up getting captured and "saved," but she takes a leading role in her own rescue (while Jack botches it up numerous times).

And then let's go to the one interracial romance - between a Chinese guy and a white woman. And the guy is hardly exotified in this one.

Shall we continue? Outside of the one Chinese guy who ends up with the white woman, every single other Chinese guy in the movie is a complete and total badass - and the dork even gets his badass moment. There are no dorky Chinese nerds running around. All the stereotypes depicted in so many movies before and since - absent.

And - yeah, yeah, yeah - there's a lot of martial arts, but still . . . "Forbidden Kingdom" is a mockery. "Big Trouble in Little China" says - those Chinese dudes can more than hold their own.

And, of course, I'm not trying to make this out to be the perfect movie - it's still a ridiculous action-adventure at the end of the day. The few Chinese women in the movie aren't exactly shining beacons of strength. But - for when it was made - it's kind of amazing. Hell - even compared to present-day movies, it still holds its own.

A movie about a ridiculous, macho white trucker. But a ridiculous, macho white trucker who just so happens to like to hang out in Chinatown after making his deliveries, playing fan-tan (a Chinese gambling game) with his Chinese buddies, and whose best friend happens to be a Chinese guy. In fact, they are such good friends that - without a thought - this macho white trucker gets himself involved in a deadly adventure to help his friend get back his girl.

You think that concept didn't grab a hold of me? You think - even as a 6 year-old - I didn't notice how his Chinese friend imparts wisdom and fights like a badass while trying to keep the confused white guy from getting himself killed? You think I didn't soak in all the various cool Chinese heroes (and even cooler villains) filling the screen at all times, even if I was too young to really digest it all on a conscious level?

Because there were no other movies like it. Not before. Arguably - not after. A big, crazy American action-adventure movie where the Asian guys completely stole the show and were meant to. And this was a movie starring Kurt Russell and directed by John Carpenter! A movie that just sunk its claws into my 6 year-old heart and never let go - even 23 years later.

Of course, it bombed in the theaters. Kurt Russell even noted going into it that it was going to struggle, "This is a difficult picture to sell because . . . It's a mixture of the real history of Chinatown in San Francisco blended with Chinese legend and lore . . . There are only a handful of non-Asian actors in the cast".****

But it has lived on. Even prevailed to become a huge cult classic. Kind of like a minority who doesn't let him/herself be silenced - if you stand up for yourself long enough, somebody's going to take notice.

So I suggest that all of you go check out the film. See if you can combine the joy of your six-year-old self with that of your conscious adult mind and rejoice that a movie with all this goodness was made two decades ago. And then ask yourself why so few like it have been made since . . .

* I remember watching the entire film all scrambled on tv when the pay-per-view channels were somewhat discernible at random times throughout a showing.

** He was the only Storm with no speaking lines, and - judging from Thunder's thick accent - it had to be because he didn't speak English at all . . .

*** When I was alone, I was "Lightning."

**** This particular quote ripped from Wikipedia (I swear I do real research on my own time . . .)

Hapa in Hawaii: Kumu Kahua Theatre

So here's the moment of truth - which guy in the above photo is the CVT? Maybe the one in the middle, getting held back - he is pretty fiery.* Or maybe he's the one grimacing as he tries to hold the main guy back - the CVT tries to quash conflict. The guy in the way back is too old to be the CVT. But it could be any of the other ones. From what you can see, any of these guys could be hapa (mixed Asian/white).

So which one is me?

None of them, actually. This is a PR photo for a theatre production in Honolulu. However, what is important is that, knowing what you all know about my physical appearance - any of these guys could be me.

Let's say that again - any of the actors in the play pictured could be me, in terms of phenotype. How often have I ever been able to say that about any live performance art (music, theatre, sport, or otherwise)? Never.

Until last Saturday night.

To kick off my little "Hapa in Honolulu" series, I'm going to start at the end. My last night. And my best night.

To end my trip to Oahu, I decided I wanted to soak up the "blending-in" good feelings as heavily as possible. So I found this local theatre company, Kumu Kahua Theatre (KKT), that focuses on plays about Hawaiian people, written by Hawaiians, casting Hawaiian actors. From my research, it became clear that this was not going to be like every other theatre experience from my past - watching a mostly-white cast confront mostly-white issues for a mostly-white audience - and me standing out alone in the middle. No - this time, I might actually blend in.

And the second I walked up to the theatre to get my ticket, I knew I wasn't going to be disappointed. The audience was waiting outside for the doors to open, and I couldn't help but get giddy as I looked at them. It was a collection of Asian, mixed-Asian, mixed-other, and Hawaiian folks waiting. I slid in and nobody really noticed, while a couple random theatre-goers stood out like sore thumbs, visually - the handful of white folks.

It was a complete 180 on any other audience experience I've had in the States (except maybe in the Bay, but even there, white is the noticeable majority). I wanted to run around hugging people. I couldn't stop smiling. All these people kind of looked like me! Amazing.

So the doors opened up, and I walked in. One of the troupe members was showing people the way, and he could have passed for my brother - very clearly hapa. A bit Asian, a little white, maybe something else. I greeted him enthusiastically (and probably freaked him out a bit - I might have been a bit too eager about it all) and entered the theatre.

I was one of the first people in, so there were plenty of seating options and - for the first time - I actually chose to be in the front row. This matters because - in a small local theatre like this - being in the front row would put me almost literally in the play, in full view. Since I usually feel out of place at things like this, I generally choose to hide in the back, in the darkness.

But not this time. This time - I was going to be right up there, making sure I had the maximum amount of similar faces surrounding me.

The rest of the crowd rolled in, and two older ladies chose to sit in the seat next to me. There were other seats available - they could have sat with a "buffer" seat between us like what always happens anywhere else I've been (literally - always - if there is an option to not sit next to me, that's what happens).** The family on my left was an Asian family (Japanese). The ladies on my right, probably Hawaiian. I wasn't isolated in my private little space with buffer seats around me, obviously alone. No - this time, I had people choosing to sit next to me. And even better - a random observer would never have known I was alone, because it was just as plausible that I was with either of the groups sitting around me - as I could have passed as a relative of either group without anybody questioning it.

I was home. I was comfortable. It was like being back in the f-ing womb. I honestly don't know if I've ever felt like that before. I was part of the audience on a level that I had never experienced before. I felt so welcome. Like I actually belonged. It very nearly brought tears to my eyes.

And then the show started - and it only got better. Because the staff was made up entirely of folks like the crowd around me - Asian, Hawaiian, or mixed. The lone exception was one white actor playing the secondary role as one of the main character's boyfriend - the butt of "family" jokes about how bad he stood out, how "different" he was. A complete role reversal - and I loved it.*** I got to laugh along with the crowd. I was part of the joke.

And the thing is - had it been the worst play in the world, I wouldn't really have cared. I was there for the company and the experience. The play and the acting was secondary to my motives.

But the play was good. I mean, really well done. There was some impressive acting, humor interspersed with more serious material that actually made you think, and the lighting and sound was professional and smooth. All far beyond what I have come to expect from most "local theatre" I've seen (not to say that I go often, for obvious reasons, but still). Maybe I thought the play was so good because it resonated with me in a way that no other play ever could. But, mostly, I think it was just because it was good. ****

The play was "Whatever happened to John Boy Kihano?" by Susan Soon He Stanton (not the one pictured, actually). In brief (because I don't want to ruin it), the story was about a Hawaiian family and how they deal with the disappearance of the youngest child. It deftly touched on race, class, abuse, tradition, and culture without feeling contrived. Without hammering any of them. In fact, it handled all those as aspects of family, with the focus remaining on family - raising questions without righteousness or a need to "tell" us what to think about it. Making a note of it all, honoring it all, without moral lessons or the trite overindulgence of mainstream art. Native Hawaiian spirituality and culture was part of the story without spite, theft, or noble savagery.

A white playwrite could never have written this. Could never have done it with such respect and raw reality. Neither could a white director have put it together. And neither should they - there is plenty of great art to be made without trampling non-white culture (if only more artists understood that). And there are plenty of great non-white artists to make this kind and more (if only the world understood that).

And so the play wrapped me up and took me along. It harmonized with my own experiences and sang with me. Watching a play written by somebody that looks like me, about a family that looks like me with experiences that echo mine (in certain ways), portrayed by actors that looked like me, while sitting in an audience that looked more like family than my actual family does.

So when the performance finally ended, I wasn't ready. I wanted to hold onto that feeling, knowing it wasn't one I was going to repeat for a very long time, maybe ever. But it was over. There was nothing I could do.

And so I walked out, enveloped in a bubble of personal silence. The warm night air wrapped me in comfort and an uncontrollable sense of rightness as I walked down the street. I walked for five or six blocks through a completely abandoned downtown Honolulu with the darkness resting on my shoulders like my childhood blanket. It was too perfect - that experience had been all for me, something I needed so badly, and I didn't see a single other soul in the street as I walked - nobody to distract me from my moment. Nothing to keep me from contemplating the feelings and thoughts rushing through me - things that no blog entry could ever explain sufficiently.

When I finally made it to my car, I realized I had parked almost directly in front of the old palace. It was lit up majestically from the outside - and completely dark inside. Because nobody lived there, anymore. And my thoughts returned to what had made that night's experience possible - the sad history that created modern-day Hawaii. And so I will write on that next.

But - until then - just like on that last night, I will shake that off for a bit and remain wrapped in the pure bliss of acceptance and belonging I was blessed with on my last night in Honolulu. Because that moment was all mine, and nothing can make me let it go. And - exactly because it's something that has happened so seldom in my life - I will always appreciate it on a level that so few others can attain.

* Actually, I'm totally serious when I say the dude in the middle kind of looks like my brother . . .

** Maybe it was because - for the first time - I was smiling and glowing with positive energy before the show, instead of silently counting the people of color in the room.

*** Not fully a role-reversal, because his character actually got fleshed out past being a stereotype, more than usually happens for the funny "foreign" roles played by PoC in mainstream theatre and film.

**** So to all those who claim that there just aren't enough high-caliber non-white actors, directors, playwrites, etc. out there - you're so full of sh--.

Honestly . . .

"Fat, lazy, bad-tempered pig voted China's favorite animal."

That's the headline that goes to the "news story" at the link below. When you read the story (if you even bother) - it tells how a pig that survived the Sichuan earthquake and "vividly illustrated the spirit of never giving up" was voted China's favorite animal, along with a loyal dog and a cat that almost died from grief when its partner was killed.

But let's go back to that little "headline" that is what most Americans are going to see when they see their MSN homepage after logging out of their hotmail account (which is how I saw it). Now what are the inferred implications of the headline versus why the people of China actually chose the pig as their favorite animal? Seriously. Is there any explanation for why the headline wasn't "Earthquake survivor pig voted as China's favorite animal" as opposed to the one they chose? Yes, they explain where the "fat and lazy" part came from, but that isn't the story, nor is it why the animal was chosen.

So why would an American online publication choose the headline emphasizing the fat, lazy and bad-tempered aspect of the pig in tandem with the nation that voted for it? No idea here . . .

And I know how many people out there are going to shake their head and say that - once again - I'm looking for a fight. But this is just such a perfect example of the little things. Those little bits that are completely deniable and may very well be coincidence. The stuff that I MAY be reading too much into, but may also just be exactly what I think it is - but, either way, done in such a manner that I only look like a "sensitive" jerk for saying anything about it. Because, again, those who wish for me to "get over" such a thing look at it in isolation - only notice it when I (or somebody else like me) says something - and then go on to ignore or miss the hundred other "little things" just like it that happen over the rest of the day - and every other day, as well.

One person staring at you in a restaurant one time is strange, and worrying about it is paranoia. Multiple people staring at you EVERY time you enter the restaurant is more than a coincidence. Your friend "slipping" and saying something disturbing once is funny. Them doing it on a regular basis is a problem. This is how race works. Little bits and pieces that - by themselves - are nothing remarkable; but when added up become enough to drive a person crazy.

At least, that's how this bad-tempered pig - I mean Chinese-American - sees it.

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/28349413/?GT1=43001

On Axe "Dark Temptation"

Okay. Maybe I'm too sensitive. Maybe I "can't take a joke." Or maybe this sh- is f-ed up.

So Axe body spray (a heinous concoction of carcinogens in a spray can, aimed at adolescent boys) just came up with a new "scent" that they call "Dark Temptation." The idea behind it is that the "scent" is reminiscent of chocolate, and since women "can't resist chocolate," they will also not be able to resist he who uses the spray.

Obviously, there's a lot wrong in that simple idea - but that's all about stupidity, and I don't really need to go there. No, I bring it up because I randomly saw an ad for the spray the other day, and it kind of bothered the Hell out of me.

The ad starts with a white guy spraying himself with Axe, and he suddenly turns into a dark-brown-colored "chocolate" man. The rest of the commercial is him going around town seducing white girls (I specify white here because there are no other races evident in this particular commercial) by his simple "chocolate" presence: women are licking him, biting him, chasing him, etc. And then it ends with the statement, "Axe Dark Temptation, as irresistible as chocolate."

And - again - there's a lot wrong with that whole concept on a sexist tip, as well - but that's the whole Axe commercial angle, and I'm sure somebody has addressed that better than me. What stood out to me was the overt racial implications of the NAME of the spray, "Dark Temptation," and the entire commercial. Because the white guy pretty much becomes a black guy when he sprays himself. Sure, he's "chocolate" and there are little jokes made in terms of that fact, but it's hard to miss the change in color (and tone) when he sprays himself and becomes "irresistible."

And I point out that all the women in the ad are white here because I've seen other Axe commercials, and - if I remember correctly - not all of the women in other ads are white. So this one stands out. And so I can't help but notice that it plays pretty perfectly on the whole racial stereotype and perceived dynamic between white women and black men. And, to finish it off, it's called "Dark Temptation." I mean - damn. It's not "Chocolate Temptation." It's "Dark Temptation." If you read that as a title of a romance novel (which it actually is), wouldn't you have some assumptions on what that "novel" was about (turns out the real one isn't, though)?

So then I go to check out the website to find the commercial to link to this post, and I see that they have an "Axe Dark Temptation" video game to play. So I boot it up, and guess what? The whole game is to be walking down the street as your chocolate-y "dark" self, trying to escape white women who can't help but try and get a (literal) piece of you.

I don't know. Sometimes I think I'm just getting too damn sensitive about everything, but this one really popped out at me. And I know that the people it's geared for (young white kids) aren't going to really be able to make that conscious connection, but it seems pretty obvious to me.*

But why take my word for it? See for yourself and let me know if I'm just too ready for a fight these days.

Axe Dark Temptation Commercial

* Not to mention the "chocolate man" looks pretty much like a white guy in classic "blackface" - what with his buggy white eyes and big, white teeth (mirroring the painted-on white smiles of minstrel shows of yore).

** And the "d--k in the box" reference with his "chocolate" fingers . . .