Allow this Asian critic to suggest that Asian representation—or any representation of an underserved audience, for that matter—does not inherently make a movie any good. Do we want art to unsettle us and take us out of ourselves, or merely be a comforting mirror? What is art for, after all, if it isn’t to put us in the shoes of someone whose experience is completely different from ours? By that standard, even if you are Asian, Crazy Rich Asians, the first major studio picture in 25 years to feature a predominantly Asian cast, is a qualified success. But there are mixed and less than admirable messages here; and perhaps ironically, when the movie fully shifts from its dazzling milieu to something thornier, it finally comes alive.
The movie begins with a flashback to the ‘80s, when Eleanor Young (Hong Kong action movie veteran Michelle Yeoh) tries in vain to check into a posh London hotel where her family has made a reservation. Denied entry by a snooty receptionist who suggests they find something in Chinatown, Young calls her husband to cash in a favor from the hotel’s owner—who comes down to announce that the Youngs now own the hotel. It’s supposed to be a triumphant, empowering moment, but what it tells you about the Youngs is not so altruistic: If this family sees a problem, they throw money at it. How many families have that privilege?
Some 20 years later in a trendy New York cafe, we see Eleanor’s dashing and now-adult son Nick (Henry Golding) meet his girlfriend Rachel (Constance Wu), an NYU economics professor, for a drink and an offer. Nick invites Rachel to his best friend’s wedding back home in Singapore, and inquiring minds, overhearing this tête-à-tête, relay the news via text among their friends so efficiently that Eleanor learns about it before her son has a chance to tell her. You see, roving eyes in New York recognized Nick as the son of the prestigious Youngs, an old money Chinese family that, as the movie’s title explains, is crazy rich. Rachel, who was previously unaware of her beau’s high class status, must be prepared for the prying, judgmental eyes of his crazy rich peers.
There’s a lot of conflict at work here—class, tradition vs. modernity, old money vs. nouveau riche—which makes the movie’s first few acts play like a well-acted but fairly tepid telenovela. Director John M. Chu, a California native whose Hollywood career includes a pair of Step Up movies (he’s executive producer of the franchise peak, Step Up Revolution) and a G.I. Joe outing, has a chance here to put the dance-offs behind him and share the culture of his heritage on a grand stage. But for much of its two hours, this soap opera feels pleasant but not especially personal; you begin to wish for an exuberant dance-off to liven things up.
That feeling is exacerbated by a soundtrack that includes Chinese-language versions of “Material Girl” and “Money (That’s What I Want).” Such modified oldies provide a familiar template for American viewers, but that template is all too familiar; the rom-com class conflict, despite plenty of Chinese cultural signifiers, comes off like more like a cover version of somebody else’s hit song, not something original. As mouth-watering as scenes of Singapore street food stalls are, the jet-setting script by Adele Lim and Peter Chiarelli, adapted from the novel by Kevin Kwan, seems like a travelogue, finding the most commercially attractive aspects of its culture to export.
What pulls the movie out of its banality is a startling cruelty. Most of Nick’s upper-class family and friends are dismissive of Rachel, who was raised by a single mother of modest means. After Rachel, and the audience, has had a chance to marvel at the Youngs’ sophisticated, elegant residence, Eleanor pulls the rug out from under her and tells her outright, “You’ll never be good enough” for her son. Such family conflicts are by no means exclusive to Asian cultures, but this where the movie begins to feel personal, and if it puts the Chinese (at least the crazy rich Chinese) in a terrible light, it makes these crazy rich Asians finally seem real– and it briefly makes you wonder if there’s some greater metaphor at work about the role of China in the global economy.
Like its attractive characters, Crazy Rich Asians is watchable, but if anything it’s not crazy enough. One wishes the movie had the kind of unpredictable energy of such Hong Kong directors as Stephen Chow or Johnnie To. (Though Chinese-American rapper Awkwafina, as Rachel’s old classmate Peik, and Ken Jeong as Peik’s rockabilly-coifed father, at times invoke a tamer Chow joint). Although marketed as a point of ethnic pride, it’s more commodity than art, which means the cynical Eleanor Young may be the movie’s moral center after all.
The post Crazy Rich Asians appeared first on Spectrum Culture.