Crazy Rich Asians (2018) Review

Crazy Rich Asians (2018) is a sports film about competitive nose-rubbing

Envision this; a delicious Chinese dim sum breakfast, complete with cha siu buns, beef chun fun, stir-fried sticky rice and vegetable spring rolls. Can you taste the brown-fried noodles and the diced onion? Delicious, isn't it? Now breathe in the steam from the peking duck. It's a flavour as old as time itself. It's an art form that has been passed down through generations. I found myself salivating at the thought of this rich, succulent, lavish banquet (the first all-Asian blowout since 'Joy Luck Club') and I was summarily disappointed when I was served up a $4 Happy Meal.

To be clear, I'm not upset that 'Crazy Rich Asians (2018)' is a bad film. That much was a given. My concern is with the film's ethos. I was alarmed by it, by something that, to begin with, I couldn't quite put my finger on (and it's not the Mandarin rendition of Coldplay's 'Yellow'). After a full 120 minutes of erotic stare-contests, wealth salivating and rogue sub plots, something felt 'off'. Then it hit me. I realised I'd already seen this movie before. In fact, I have seen it many times. It's clichéd all over the place. The clichés in this case, though, are important because it is not Jennifer Aniston playing the kooky 'girl next door' female lead, it's Constance Wu. It's Constance Wu playing Jennifer Aniston. Wu, who sports an American accent. Wu, as a ditsy, 20-something-year-old city gal. Oh yes, we may have got our helping of bao, but these dumplings are absolutely soaked in Monterey Jack cheese.

Question one: why shouldn't a Chinese-produced feature be allowed to follow in the highly-lucrative footprints of the American romcom? In fact, what's wrong with a Chinese-funded American film?

It's clear that China wants to be a part of the trash heap, why chastise them after the first bite of rotten fish skin?

It's not that there's anything specifically wrong with this American kind of trash, it's just that by using multi-ethnic talents to create more of it, it seems to me that we are propagating a world of exclusively American trash.

Crazy Rich Asians (2019) looks, at times, like the world's most elaborate Gap advert and I was around for the Khaki swing.

We use film, more than is probably healthy, as a cultural indicator. It's a very easily consumed and discreet means to plant ideas in the mind of the consumer. We all take cues from our favourite on-screen heroes. It affects the way we see one another. What I already knew, prior to watching this film, is that China had largely embraced American spending culture as an extension of its own. What scared me about this film, is its complete fetishisation of (not just American filmmaking) but the American dream. This is a film about enforcing ideals, American ones, on an unsuspecting and tradition-preserving family. Add to this, a clichéd narrative, a converted British soundtrack and an all English-speaking cast and you have the lowest bow to Western imperialism since the treaty of Nanking.

I envy the Japanese. I mourn for Bruce Lee. Really, I wish that there was a valid alternative to the Hollywood model. All I want is a bowl of rice, without ketchup. Is that too much to ask?

★★☆☆☆