Charles Yu’s Mind-Bending “Interior Chinatown”

By Caroline Cao and Charles Yu
November 21, 2024
Interviews

The idea for author Charles Yu’s fourth novel, Interior Chinatown, was first sparked when Yu spied an anonymous Asian performer in the background of a Chinatown-themed episode of Law & Order. He wondered what that world looked like through the eyes of this backgrounder, watching the action and the stars from the margins. With its prose stylized like a screenplay, in Interior Chinatown, various Asian background and supporting actors assume various stereotypical roles in order to assimilate into film productions and get paid. The novel’s protagonist, Willis Wu, aspires to be cast as “Kung Fu Guy” but his film universe subjects him to lesser roles like “Delivery Guy” or “Disgraced Son.”

Yu is also at the helm of Hulu’s on screen adaptation of Interior Chinatown. Hong Kong-American actor/comedian Jimmy O. Yang embodies the role of Willis, who we first see as a Chinatown waiter. He is not conscious that he exists in a metafictional television show with surreal rules he doesn’t understand. In one of the show’s first gags, Willis can’t open the restaurant’s exit door because a literal invisible force forbids him from entering new spaces.

Willis senses his world is about to change when police detectives Miles Turner (Sullivan Jones) and Sarah Green (Lisa Gilroy) conduct a gang war investigation in Chinatown (a scenario that spoofs Law & Order Chinatown-set episodes down to the canonical dun-dun sound effect). Underlying all of this is the mystery of Willis’s missing older brother, credited as “Older Brother,” played by Chris Pang, whom Willis idolized as his ideal “Kung Fu Guy.” To find his brother, Willis secretly partners with Detective Lana Lee (Chloe Bennet), the newest officer of the investigative force who happens to be acquainted with Willis’s brother. For mysterious reasons, the other detectives treat Willis as an invisible background character while Lana is able to see and interact with Willis. Like Willis, these detectives seem equally unaware that they are in a television show.

Willis’s odd reality illuminates the show’s social commentary on feeling pigeonholed as an Asian stereotype in American media and yearning to be worth a versatile role. Ahead of the show’s recent premiere on Hulu, Yu spoke to Caroline Cao to discuss the mind-bending metatextual worldbuilding of Interior Chinatown and how Willis’s and Lana’s contrasting Asian identities inform their relationship with Chinatown, Asian invisibility, and marginalization in the film industry.

Minor spoilers for “Interior Chinatown” follow.

Caroline Cao: In a recent interview, you described the Chinatown in your novel as a “psychological Chinatown.” Chinatown is mythical. It’s home. It’s also the Chinatown of the Hollywood gaze. It’s an exotic backdrop, a crime scene of gang wars and drugs.
Charles Yu: It’s real but in a physical and mental sense. The show explores Willis’s trouble leaving at first. He has trouble entering the new world that he wants to get into, which is the world of Black and White—this cop show. There are these kinds of invisible and visible barriers. The idea of Interior Chinatown is that we’re in this world of Willis Wu, trapped in a role, trapped in the background. We’re watching as he tries to escape.
From left to right: Jimmy O. Yang as Willis Wong and Ronny Chieng as Fatty Choy in Interior Chinatown.
CC: There is that early shot of him banging on the locked restaurant exit, like a cat not understanding why the door is closed. These barriers are literalized in the show compared to the book; book Willis is also conscious that he is on a film set.
CY: In the book, it’s more the question, “is this real, or is it not real?” I know from reading many internet comments that some people love that ambiguity, and some people do not like it. The challenge with a show is determining what it looks like. In a reader’s mind, you can hold two ideas at the same time: the idea that this is real and also a show. But literalizing that for the screen was very tricky. How do we create the feeling that Willis lives in a reality where a cop show is part of reality? The trick is making the cop show [Black & White] feel convincing enough that you could understand that there’s this thing that Willis wants to be a part of, but he doesn’t know how.
CC: Interior Chinatown is a fascinating novel to translate into television because it’s about one actor’s relationship with the film industry. You wrote Interior Chinatown, and now the adaptation has a writing and directing team, including Taika Waititi, John Lee, Ben Sinclair, and Jaffar Mahmood. What was it like for the material to transform with a team?

CY: It feels scary. It feels inspiring. I learned a lot from it. They’re all directors, so they think visually. They’re also storytellers as well. I sometimes would come into a meeting with one of those directors and ask, “How are we going to do this?” And they already have several ideas. I learned so much about thinking in pictures instead of thinking in words.

You mentioned four amazing directors. They’ve all got different styles. Taika directed our pilot, so he helped set the look for the whole show. But John Lee, our producing director, was really instrumental in shaping the show and helping me understand what a viewer is thinking or not thinking: “We have a gap here. You need more information in this part. This is why this cut isn’t working because it’s confusing. You need this shot, or we need this little interstitial scene.” Ben Sinclair created his own TV show, High Maintenance. He brings his own flavor, heart, and humor. It’s incredible to work with those directors and more. Alice Wu, an amazing feature director, is also on the show.

CC: You wrote for television previously, specifically for Westworld and American Born Chinese–a show that got canceled far too soon.
CY: I had to learn how to structure and build a world through Westworld. I learned from my brother, both an actor and a writer, and I learned from our cast. They bring so much intelligence and experience to create the performances to make their characters into real people. When working with someone like John and Taika, it’s learning how to both shoot what you need, then realize what you don’t have, shoot more, and then shape all that in a cut.
From left to right: Jimmy O. Yang as Willis Wong and Chloe Bennett as Lana Lee in Interior Chinatown.
CC: What I noticed in the series is how Lana Lee [Chloe Bennett’s character, lighter skinned than Willis] moves more easily around spaces than Willis. The show uses cool lighting whenever we’re in a cop procedural that stars Lana. Sometimes we find Lana in doorways or half-lighting in-between worlds, interacting with Willis. It’s this literal definition of her straddling her different identities while Willis is literally invisible to her cop procedural world.
CY: I appreciate that. It’s an astute observation because that’s exactly what we’re trying to do: convey the idea of Willis being invisible while Lana is a [mixed-race Asian] woman with the ability to pass, have more fluidity to her portrayals, and slip across boundaries or straddle boundaries. What’s tricky about her is that she then has to negotiate different worlds. Both Chloe as an actor and then Lana as a character have this very singular status where they have to understand one side of the story and then also understand the other side of the story—then figure out who they are at any given moment. Meanwhile, someone like Ronny Chieng’s character, Fatty Choi, only lives on one side of this story. Basically, Lana has to do it all.
CC: What I admire about the book and the television show is it captures an ambivalence about being pigeonholed. Yes, Bruce Lee paved the way for a lot of Asian actors, but Willis demonstrates an ambivalence about being pigeonholed into the stereotypical “Kung Fu Guy” when it’s your only pipeline to greatness or another role.

CY: I think you already articulated it better than I’m going to: ambivalence over being pigeonholed. It could be easy for one version of the conversation to say, “Well, there is Asian representation now, so what’s the problem?” I think it’s more like, “What kinds of things could be relevant in a world where we have Everything Everywhere All At Once?”

We do have representation, but there’s still many more stories to be told, including ones about representation, about being pigeonholed, or being reduced, not just on screen but in our lives. Whether you’re Asian American or not, I hope people can take away that there’s more under the surface. Interior Chinatown is about getting under the surface.

CC: Jimmy O. Yang got his start through Central Casting, a company mentioned in the book. Was there any direct consulting of background actors?
CY: Jimmy’s been telling the story about playing “Chinese Teenager #1” on Agents of SHIELD, which starred Chloe Bennet [as Daisy Johnson/Quake]. Even on Silicon Valley, Yang was not supposed to have more than a line or two, but he was so good that he kind of blew up into this thing [a bigger role]. [He’s] the ultimate background actor to consult. And it’s kind of meta to chat and get to know the second unit who basically play the doubles of Willis, Lana, and Fatty… There was just something really special about hanging out with the cast and the background.
Jimmy O. Yang as Willis Wu in Interior Chinatown.
CC: One alteration from the book is the plotline for Willis’s parents, who are loosely based on your own immigrant parents. In the show, Lily Wu feels upstaged by her husband.
CY: I’m so glad you asked because they are the emotional heart of the book. Their roles are “Old Asian Woman” and “Old Asian Man,” and to see them played by Diana Lin and Tzi Ma is pretty crazy because they both are such talented actors and have so much experience. They have a number of scenes together as the season progresses, and you see their relationship change. You get a sense of their history. You get a sense of their struggle that they wanted to make a better life for their sons and themselves.
CC: When did you first become conscious of the history of Asian American representation?

CY: The big one for me was *Sixteen Candles *and Long Duk Dong. I feel like it was junior high when I saw that movie. It definitely stuck with me because it was a pretty big role in a very big movie that I otherwise loved. It’s uncomfortable to watch this thing about these wonderful people in this love story, and then you’ve got a character [an Asian stereotype] like that in the middle of it.

Early on, you understand you don’t have any kind of reference to Asia or Asian Americans. It’s all sorts of the Asian Other [on television and film]… It’s hard, growing up and sort of never seeing that on TV. That really shapes your perception as not being and not mattering. I think that’s how you end up being in your 40s and wanting to write a book about an invisible background actor.

CC: How do you think onscreen representation for BIPOC could evolve?
CY: What I’d like to see, personally, is more opportunities and less pressure on being BIPOC. We have made a lot of progress, but I don’t think we’re “there.” But the idea of just telling a story about people, and it being incidental to their background is the ultimate goal–that you could have the same assumption that you would have about white characters in an American story and that they’re nuanced, complex, dimensional people worth a story. For instance, I love the movie Didi, and I think that it is a great coming of age story about an Asian American kid. It speaks on many levels, and I think that’s an amazing thing that was made and got distributed and may not have existed a few years ago.
CC: Do you feel the pressure to “represent”? And what advice do you have for people dealing with this pressure?
CY: Especially during the pandemic, I did a lot of Zooms where I sometimes felt that I couldn’t be a spokesperson for Asian America because I am not nearly qualified—but nor is anyone right to be the spokesperson for an entire community. I also think it’s an opportunity and responsibility to have a chance to talk to people. Mostly it’s about sticking to what I know, which is being a writer. Whether it’s fiction or nonfiction, if I can put my thoughts into words that connect with someone and inspire someone who can talk about Asian American issues, then that’s my part in it.

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