The stereotype of the sexualized or silent Asian woman has been prevalent since the dawn of Hollywood. Historically, they played the role of the fragile, submissive woman or the exotic femme fatale. From the prostitutes in Full Metal Jacket to the comically silent Asian girl member of Pitch Perfect, this stereotype has materialized over and over again like some kind of ghost. Quiet, sometimes rebellious and often sexy, these female characters exist with little to no depth. What about the Asian American man? For a while, the Asian American man in Hollywood films was usually a small and emasculated nerd with no game. Decidedly unsexy. However, times are changing.
We are in the renaissance of the “sexy” Asian American man. We have Crazy Rich Asians and Heated Rivalry. But just 40 years ago, we had Long Duk Dong in Sixteen Candles. And often, in romantic media, the couple isn’t two Asian Americans. There usually is still a proximity to whiteness. And that’s not to admonish biracial couples: we need representation for that too. I myself am the product of that. I’d be a hypocrite to say there’s not a space for it. There is. But there also needs to be more media where both members of the couple are Asian American. On top of that, what I’ve really been craving is a film about mentally ill Asian American screwups, the kind of character typically reserved for white people. It exists, but I’ve always wanted more of it. And when it does exist, it often goes unnoticed. I adored Joyride, but no one really talks about it. I’m obsessed with films about messy Asian Americans. Bedford Park delivers.
Bedford Park isn’t a perfect movie and neither are its characters. That’s the beauty of it. There were moments that totally lost me and moments where I found the characters deeply annoying. At one point, I even scribbled down in my notebook: this guy is insufferable. Then, I crossed it out and wrote : never mind. He’s supposed to be. The whole point is that they’re supposed to piss you off. That’s the fun of the movie. It’s not a wish fulfillment movie. It’s a “I hope this never ever happens to me” kind of movie.
The film’s protagonist Audrey is a 36 year old physical therapist who has to come home after her mother gets in a minor accident. She then starts to fall for the guy who hit her mom’s car: ex-wrestler Eli, who is a Korean American adoptee with a shady backstory. They fall in love (obviously). In my favorite scene in the film, they listen to the soundtrack from Rocky, in which Audrey starts crying. I don’t know why I liked this cryptic scene, free from dialogue, but it did speak to the experience of being mentally ill to the point of crying over nothing. This compelled me. While I had issues with the pacing of the film and some scenes with Audrey’s parents fell flat emotionally, there were still memorable moments between the two protagonists that just worked. I have to give the filmmakers credit for that.
In the film, we stay grounded in Audrey’s point of view, but Eli’s character fascinated me most. I couldn’t shake the feeling that he occupied a type of role previously reserved for “tormented white boys”. In one scene, he says he prefers a fork over chopsticks. He wears a lot of wife beater shirts, takes mysterious phone calls and has a gross dirty studio apartment. He has a secret heart of gold and a daughter from a past relationship that he still cares about. He’s rough around the edges and just a total loser. It was refreshing, weirdly. During the Q and A with the director, Stephanie Ahn, my suspicions were confirmed when she explained that Eli’s character was originally a white guy. I knew it. But, her instinct to change his story into an Asian American one, that of an adoptee raised by culturally unaware parents, was a smart choice. Audrey desperately longs to escape the cultural filial piety that binds her, whereas Eli wishes he could be more in touch with his Korean heritage. This pairing added a layer of complexity to the film that helped me enjoy it more. Bedford Park is a character driven romance, with cultural themes that complement the narrative rather than overpower it.
One of the only ways we can achieve true equal representation in film is by having a wide range of portrayals. As much as we need Asian American characters that are glamorous and chic, we also need characters that are mediocre and live in shitty apartments. That’s the only way to achieve true equality. Imperfection is the appeal of Bedford Park and while it’s not without its flaws, it’s a win for the microgenre of “mentally ill Asian American” cinema.
Image Credit: Collage Made on Canva by Author.