This piece was originally published in the November 2024 issue of Pandora Curated.
Back in October, I was fortunate to win a ticket to the Boston Asian American Film Festival’s premiere screening of the first episode of Interior Chinatown, which just a few days ago fully debuted as a limited series based on Charles Yu's 2020 National Book Award-winning novel, executive produced by Yu himself. The story follows Willis Wu—known to the world as “Generic Asian Man”—on his journey to break free from the “Background Oriental Male” trope and finally step into the limelight.
On the surface, the series follows a metafictional linear narrative, centering on Willis Wu—portrayed by the ever-charismatic Jimmy O. Yang—and “Chinatown expert” Detective Lana Lee, played by Chloe Bennet, as they delve into the disappearance of Willis’s brother and the eerie deaths and unsettling events haunting Chinatown in the fictional city of Port Harbour. However, as the story unfolds, it spirals into increasing chaos and absurdity.
“Delivery Guy,” “Tech Guy,” “Translator Guy”—these are just a few of the placeholder roles Willis takes on, highlighting the stereotypical characters Asians are often typecast as in Hollywood. In these roles, Willis manages to break into the Port Harbour precinct—a place he repeatedly fails to access through conventional means—underscoring just how invisible he and others like him are to the public eye. The exception, of course, is “Kung Fu Guy,” but even that role is ultimately another placeholder, reinforcing the same limitations.
Creator Charles Yu does a phenomenal job humanizing his version of Chinatown—bustling, loud, and deeply communal. He portrays immigrant families navigating life in a country where English dominates like an unrelenting tide, washing over every corner and shaping the landscape. Each character carries their own story, struggling to stay afloat in a current that often pulls them away from their cultural roots.
The narrative focuses particularly on Willis, his family, and their extended circle, highlighting the challenges of leaving Chinatown’s shelter. For many, it’s like standing on the edge of a roaring river—hesitant to leap into unfamiliar waters, whether due to the comfort of home, the pull of family, or the lack of means to cross. Willis himself remains anchored, working under the hood of his Uncle Wong’s Chinatown restaurant Golden Palace as a busboy alongside his best friend Fatty, played by Ronny Chieng.
After the halfway mark, the story takes a surreal turn, transitioning from a gripping crime fiction-inspired buildup to a reality-bending Truman Show-like revelation: Willis and the others have been living in a fabricated reality—a TV police procedural. This means that Willis, his family, and everyone around them have never truly had agency in their lives; everything has been predetermined, with unseen forces ensuring they remain confined to their typecast roles.
It’s a sharp critique of how Asians have historically been treated in Hollywood—still constrained, though perhaps less overtly than before. Even when Willis and Lana, in a desperate act of defiance against their scripted endings, attempt to take their own lives, they are reimagined in yet another fabricated reality, showcasing the unrelenting cycle designed to keep them trapped.
Fortunately, I had the chance to see Charles Yu in person at the pilot screening, where he shared his motivation for writing Interior Chinatown: exploring the struggles of immigrants trying to assimilate into American culture. He emphasized his desire for Asian-American characters to have more meaningful screen time—roles that truly represent their stories—highlighting how this kind of progress hasn’t happened organically in Hollywood, making projects like this crucial for change. That effort certainly paid off, as he delivers a portrayal of the Asian-American experience that transcends token representation, offering a nuanced and authentic depiction of the often-overlooked “Chinatown” and the Asian community.
As part of the broader Asian community, I can relate. The Indian-American diaspora is almost invisible in Hollywood, and it’s a conversation that needs to start as well. It’s encouraging to see films like Crazy Rich Asians and Everything Everywhere All at Once carving out space for Asian-American representation. With the arrival of Interior Chinatown, another work that clearly reflects the immense thought, love, and authenticity poured into its creation, I’m hopeful we can continue to push for more representation, appreciation, and—most importantly—acceptance of the diverse cultures that shape America.
Yash (he/him) is a Copyeditor and Writer at Political Pandora and a student at Tufts University studying International Relations and Economics. He is passionate about the U.S. political sphere and international affairs, particularly foreign policy, and has a keen interest in pop culture.
Disclaimer
Any facts, views or opinions are not intended to malign and/or disrespect any religion, group, club, organisation, company, or individual.
This article published on this website is solely representative of the author. Neither the editorial staff nor the organisation (Political Pandora) are responsible for the content.
All illustrations in this piece, if any, are original works created exclusively by the Design Department of Political Pandora.
These illustrations are protected and are not available for replication, reproduction, or redistribution in any form without explicit written consent from Political Pandora. Unauthorized use, including but not limited to copying, modifying, or redistributing, is strictly prohibited.
Photographs in this particular article, if any, are taken from external sources and are not a property of Political Pandora. The use of these images are not meant for commercial purposes.
While we strive to present only reliable and accurate information, should you believe that any information present is incorrect or needs to be edited, please feel free to contact us.
Comments