A guide to finding community and mutual understanding through film.
by Ryan Darbonne

This is AAAFF Voices, where diverse filmmakers and community leaders share their unique perspectives about film, culture, and the touchstones that shaped their personal experiences.

* This isn’t a guide. Honestly, it’s barely a list. I just thought it was a dope title. And technically, I wrote this during MLK History Month, so these rambling thoughts from this big Black brain are what you get.

I’m honored to have been asked to give my very brief thoughts on the intersection between Black (African American if ya nasty) and Asian media. I believe our respective experiences, trauma and influences on pop culture in this country are intertwined yet so different. Our trauma literally served as the building blocks to a country salivating at the mouth to be “made great again” while our impact on music, film and other forms of media is unparalleled. However,  some of the differences in our experiences have resulted in a complicated relationship between Black and Asian Americans. At its best, our bond as POC’s could easily be described as a force to be reckoned with. At its worst, our differences are weaponized by the guardians of white supremacy resulting in some gnarly shit on both sides of the racial aisle. Yea dude, it’s #complicated. This is why I think media, specifically film, is such an important tool for fostering a collective understanding.

Film by its very nature is a communal experience. From its creation to its consumption (pre-COVID) it takes many different types of people.  The silver screen allows the audience a chance to connect and find a commonality with other cultures we might otherwise choose to ignore.  Anyone that knows me knows I can get behind my pulpit and preach about Black film. However, for the sake of this blog and given the rise of hate crimes against Asian Americans, I feel like it’s important to highlight some films that give a unique glimpse into the Asian American experience. I want POC’s and white people (especially white people) to walk away from these films with a little bit more empathy, a little bit more sympathy. From the toppling of the model minority myth (Better Luck Tomorrow and Harold & Kumar) to depicting Asian men as deserving of love and sex (Charlotte Sometimes), these five films are worth your time. 

The Films:

1. Chan is Missing (dir. Wayne Wang, 1982)

2. Charlotte Sometimes (dir. Eric Byler, 2002)

3. Better Luck Tomorrow (dir. Justin Lin, 2003)

4. Harold & Kumar Go to White Castle (dir. Danny Leiner, 2004)

5. The Farewell (dir. Lulu Wang, 2019)

Look, I am by no means an academic. I am by no means the authority on any of this and am painfully aware of all the underrepresented communities deserving of their own 500 word blog post. What I am is first and foremost a fan of film. A cinephile. Just some idiot who decided film school was an honest trade, graduated during a recession and is now suffocating under a mountain of student loan debt (but that Criterion Collection tho).

Are the films I picked perfect? Absolutely not. I chose to put “Asian American Cinema” in quotations because if you hadn’t noticed two out of the five films are directed by white men. Are the films gonna topple the pillars of white supremacy? Fuck no. Do I think they’re important viewing in the fight to help dispel the shitty stereotypes/expectations that have followed Asians throughout American history? Absolutely. 

My hope is that this “guide” could foster a bigger discussion on the nature of ownership in art, especially amongst POC’s. What exactly is an Asian American film? What is a Black film? Does The Color Purple not constitute a “Black film” because its director was white? Where do we draw the line: should we only consider films that are “for us, by us” or should we let the mis-en-scene dictate our perceptions? Honestly, I’m not sure yet—but I’m gonna enjoy trying to figure it out. 

Ryan Darbonne is a filmmaker, improviser and rapper doing very food (yes food) admisdt a global pandemic, thanks.