Chan is Late! Late! Late!

I, too, missed last week's blog entry, so I'm making it up here:

Chan is Missing was fantastic. On a purely cinematic level, I enjoyed the film noir-reminiscent style and the unconventional structure of the narrative. As a point of comparison to other appearances of Asian-Americans on film, Chan is Missing provided some of the first Asian-Am. characters who weren't depicted as foreign-- discontent, wandering, perhaps, but never quite alien. Having gone to a predominantly white high school, and I've felt somewhat separated from the Asian-American community for the past few years, so this portrayal of an Asian America was reassuring in a way.

Yet, as I said before, as comfortable as these characters are in their community, they seem somehow displaced. Perhaps it's the mystery of Chan, stories about his unhappiness in the country, and the uneasiness that his absence creates. Throughout the film we are searching for a person we've never met, much in the way Renee Tajima-Pena went looking for the nebulous idea of an Asian-America. The narrative winds almost aimlessly, and the mystery is never solved. Does this ending denote a failure? What, if anything, has Jim learned by the end of the film? I can't decide whether the film contains a moral, or whether it's meant to be simply descriptive of a single tone of the Asian-American experience.

Watching the film, I wondered at times who the intended audience was. Chan is Missing was considered experimental, underground, perhaps because it was produced independently of Hollywood. I don't think it was aimed at a mainstream audience, but rather at Asian-Americans. In fact, the few scenes containing dialogue in Chinese (without subtitles) suggest that the film was produced specifically for Chinese-Americans. I think it's important for more characters like those in Chan is Missing to make appearances in mainstream media: real, round, non-typified characters, emphasis on the hyphen-American.

Chan Likes Mariachi Music

One thing that really struck me about Chan Is Missing was the musical score. I found the choices of songs quirky, amusing, and very, very interesting. To me, the soundtrack of a movie really sets the mood, the tone, the scene... this was no exception. The music, I found, was an unexpectedly eclectic mix of genres. But, I suppose, Chan is Missing incorporates a similarly eclectic mix of Asian and "American" culture.

The film opens with Joe driving the taxi, his face obscured by a glare on the windshield, and a Chinese-language version of "Rock Around the Clock", a classic, all-American, catchy tune by Bill Haley and the Comets. I'm sure any viewer of this movie when it came out would have recognized the melody instantly. So while this song is playing, we can't see the taxi driver's face. Is he white? Is he Chinese? Who is he? Then, as we realize what this American song is, we see that this taxi driver is Asian, as his face is finally revealed. 

At the Manilatown Senior Center, Presco, a man who worked there and remembered Chan as "Hiho", recounts, "Chan's crazy about all different kinds of music". I thought this was the perfect line -- it was almost as if Chan had created this film's soundtrack. I appreciated the inclusion of the Spanish-language mariachi music during the scene at the senior center.

I don't speak Chinese, so I feel that I really missed out on the meaning of the Chinese language lyrics of Jenny Chan's heavy metal music. But I was curious -- does Chinese heavy metal have the same subject matter as American rock? Was the Chinese "Rock Around the Clock" about rocking around the clock, or did it just appropriate the melody and transform the message into something completely different?

The subject of translation comes up a few times over the course of the film. Many of the Chinese-American characters say that in Chinese, ideas themselves are transmitted differently when one is speaking (such as the Asian-American lawyer in the beginning of the movie, and the man working at the English language center). But in the Chinese version of rock around he clock, the skeleton of the song (its melody) is the same, but the words are foreign. It seems, in translation from Chinese to English, that even the structure of the thoughts are different, the way of explaining an event is really a whole other language.

Chan is Missing really embodies a dilemma that many immigrants face -- how to preserve one's culture? Chan, much to the chagrin of his wife, was "just too Chinese!" But should he have been forced to assimilate? By listening to "all kinds of music", Chan was appreciating culture in a different way. As the "brains behind his brother's invention of the first word processing system in Chinese", maybe the only "problem" was that Chan wanted to preserve his usage of Chinese language. 

Chinese apple pie? Chinese "Rock Around the Clock"? "Samurai Night Fever"? Chinese-language heavy metal music? What are we to make of these cultural blends? Certainly, they enrich our understanding of what culture means in America -- an amalgamation of different ethnicities.

The FOB in "Chan is Missing"

What I thought would be a film about a detective search turned out to be a serious questioning of Asian American identity, a mystery much broader than one man’s disappearance. I found Wayne Wang’s approach in Chan is Missing to be very fresh and thought-provoking, in spite of (or perhaps, as a result of) the film having been shot in such a rough format, with few cinematic frills.

Of the many ideas presented in the movie, the concept of the “Fresh-off-the-Boat” (FOB) Chinese is the one I am most eager to discuss. I suppose I learned the term “FOB” relatively late, (When I asked, as high school freshman, what FOB meant, my Asian American friends who tossed the word around expressed disbelief at my naiveté). I thought it was a term used by youth of our generation to describe our parents, many of who had emigrated from East Asian homelands. It holds some degree of endearment, but I certainly sensed a great deal of disdain in its use—what person would want to be called a misfit, an accented and unfashionable foreigner? Alternatively, do FOBs think the concept is appropriately, humorously fitting? And—God forbid—might I be a FOB?

Now, armed with broader knowledge (through relationships with so-called “FOBs” and even a scholarly work that addresses the term’s origins), I feel more comfortable articulating my feelings about the term. Feng, in “Being Chinese American, Becoming Asian American,” states that FOB is a creation of the Asian-Born Chinese (ABC) to stabilize his own identity. Chan is Missing gives us plenty of opportunities to realize the truth in this idea, surprising me by using “FOB” throughout. Any character who criticizes Chan Hung’s refusal to assimilate is one who has strived to find a niche within Mainstream America at the expense of their own Chinese-ness, his wife and the businessman Mr. Li are two examples. Meanwhile, those who recognize his alternative traits, his patriotism or “hot-headed political activist” (Feng, 205) leanings, afford him greater respect and dimension. Steve expresses frustration with Chan Hung’s FOB-like antics, yet it is Chan Hung who plays up this FOB idea and teases Steve with exaggerations. The various accounts of Chan Hung in the film indicate that he is a truly complicated character.

To some, “FOBs” are Asian immigrants clueless in the American setting, hopeless foreigners. Using the word is a tool for distancing oneself from a potentially embarrassing, long-standing stereotype. But perhaps it is worse to be an ABC uncomfortable in your own skin than a FOB who truly exists beyond simplifying assumptions.

"Two-Faced Schizophrenic Chinaman"

(Personal Reaction to Film prior to Readings)

Jo’s words aimed directly at Steve and his self-confidence with his identity. The phrase piqued my attention and I immediately realized the connection between the words and the inner identity conflict and insecurities facing Asian Americans. The blunt deliverance of Jo’s argumentative words signified the rawness and sensitivity of the issue. For some, the questioning of self and place is a constant thought pining in the recesses of their minds. However, other Asian Americans do not feel a permanent sense of “internal schizophrenia” or find a need to reflect upon self-identity, a viewpoint embodied in this movie through the character of Steve. The argument between Jo and Steve unearthed more than just the debate over an Asian American identity, which we have come to learn through Renee Tajima Pena’s film that such notions of “Asian America” and “Asian American” are based primarily on individual experiences and the ability to relate to the struggles facing Asian Americans as a collective, amongst other variables. Issues of pride and loyalty to friends and family, characteristics labeled as “Asian”, are juxtaposed to the more “American” traits of personal independence and transparency. Despite the fact that both sets of values are fluid and existent in all societies, the contrasting setup attempts to provide viewers with a sample of the topics debated within Asian Americans and the greater community.

The ongoing conversation over identity complements the idea of a continuing construction of the label “Asian American” and the subsequent difficulties, clearly expressed through the varied descriptions of Chan Hung throughout the movie. Asian Americans, regardless of generation, are inevitably drawn into surrounding and oftentimes larger conflicts and differences, whether political (e.g. the PRC vs. Taiwan), educational (e.g. the scene with the Asian legal representative for Chan and Jo and Steve, Taxi drivers) or socioeconomic, etc. Chan was perceived as integral to the major events and issues within the community as well as individuals Jo interviewed at the time, and his disappearance symbolized the oftentimes heavy and complicated burden Asian Americans face in their everyday lives. The “two-face schizophrenia” exists with every Asian American, regardless of whether each individual accepts or shuns the idea. However, perhaps the negative connotation behind “schizophrenia” is misguided, as the dual-faceted or multi-faceted label should not be viewed as a disease or disorder. Asian Americans may find George’s optimistic approach towards the “two-face schizophrenia” most comforting: “To take the good things from our [Asian] background and trying to take the goods things from this country [America] to enhance our lives.” Difficulties in coming to terms with the mixing and fusing within Asian Americans will arise, but for now let’s try all try to eat some of that apple pie. Each pie may have a different taste, but isn’t that what makes life, and food, most interesting?

Language: A List

After watching Wayne Wang's Chan is Missing, I was struck by how the film used/played with the concept of language. Unfortunately, I can't make much of it, besides the fact that I think it's an important aspect of the film. Instead of trying to craft a weak/shoddy argument, I have created a list of moments in the film that draw our attention to language, and perhaps we can come up with something more cohesive together.

1. (Arguably) The Genesis of Chan is Missing: Chan Hung is stopped by a police officer and the two men become embroiled in a verbal tussle that escalates to Chan Hung's arrest. The argument seems to stem from the inherent discrepancies between Chinese and English grammar.
2. Newspaper articles--written language--as clues.
3. Disembodied voices (the man behind the door and the mysterious female caller)--spoken language--as clues.
4. The Cook: Speaks fluent Mandarin... only to reveal he pretty much speaks fluent English. Note the lack subtitles (intriguing).
5. Acronyms Galore: FOB and ABC are defined.
6. Steve's amazingly corny joke: "You can tell by the way I use my wok, I'm a Chinese cook." An example of playful use of language.
7. The Language Center.
8. Chan Hung was the brains behind his brother's first word processing system in Chinese.
9. Names: Jo and Steve versus Chan. ("Chan is too Chinese")

Thoughts?

Finding a third way in a binary

Having never seen this movie before, I wasn’t really sure what to expect. After numerous references to the movie in Renee Tajima-Pena’s documentary, I knew the movie was supposed to be impactful, a cult classic. To my surprise, it wasn’t anything like I expected. Although the title should have given it away, I never would have guessed that it was a mystery/detective story.

Note: I wanted to see what my thoughts about the movie were before reading the section of “Screening Asian Americans.”

Before “SAA:” for me “Chan is Missing” seemed to share a lot of the same characteristics of RTP’s “My America,” even though it was restricted to the context of San Francisco’s Chinatown. The movie is an attempt to showcase modern Chinese Americans, using the characters to breakdown stereotypes and expand the images of Chinese Americans. The day to day life of Jo and Steve (great names!) were used in the film to display fashions, mannerisms, and daily lives, challenging the delineated identify of Chinese Americans. Jo’s meditations were also an effective way to add another dimension to the film expanding upon identity, the immigrant experience, and “Chinatown Politics.” Lastly I was intrigued by Wayne Wang’s choice of using a detective film, which is a popular early American film genre to do all of this. This balancing act of Asia and America throughout the film furthered nuanced the Asian-American identity.

After “SAA:” Peter X Feng added some interesting thoughts on the complexities of an Asian-American label and the ways that “Chan is Missing” advocates for it as an expression. I particularly liked his line:

“We will agree to refer to it as a label, but in doing so we must constantly foreground the inadequacy of the label...The question then becomes how exactly to mobilize such a label” (191)

Because without creating a “third term” out of this binary, no revolution takes place.

Chan is Missing: Response

Peter X Feng asserts with regard to Chan is Missing: "the real problem posed by the narrative is not 'Where is Chan Hung' but 'Who is Chan Hung?'" After interviewing many of Chan's friends and acquaintances, Jo finds that he knows even less about Chan than he thought he did in the first place. Everyone he talks to reads their own identity into their construction of Chan, and his real reasons for disappearing remain unknown. I agree with Feng when he argues that this works to destabilize notions of a Chinese American identity and (similarly to My America) demonstrates that that identity is fluid and that there is no such thing as a unified Chinese American (or presumably Asian American, although the film does not really deal with Asian Americans of non-Chinese descent) experience. I too believe that this is a worthy objective to undertake and can understand why so many people found the ideas expressed by this movie revolutionary. However, after watching My America and Chan is Missing and thinking about their similar perspectives on Asian American identity, I still can't help but wonder, if there is no unified Asian American experience, why use the term at all? If Asian Americans do not always share a common language or culture or background or perspectives, then what are the criteria for entry into the group? I guess what I'm asking is: we've seen what being Asian American isn't, but what is it? Are Asian Americans a group merely because they happen to be descended from people who lived on the same continent, or is there something more to it? Perhaps it has more to do with the similar ways in which they are treated by non-Asian Americans that has led many people of Asian descent to adopt this label? In that case, is being Asian American like being Chan Hung: never getting to define yourself, only being defined by others? Yet, just because Chan never gets to give his side of the story doesn't mean he doesn't have one, and just because so many people have their own conflicting narratives regarding Chan doesn't mean he doesn't have his own, consistent narrative of himself. Or does he? Maybe its just my "American" perspective getting in the way ("just the facts, m'am"), but I find myself wanting to know who Chan is, wanting to believe that there is some secret to his identity that makes his sudden disappearance make sense, but the movie leaves me without any resolution. I am confused but intrigued and fascinated by Wang's film and look forward to reading and hearing everyone elses viewpoints in class.