Minutes before the biggest award of the night, vigorous knocking and Natasha Chen’s frantic footsteps drowned out the sound of the broadcast.
“WAIT A MINUTE!” Chen yelled, stumbling through the dark apartment to Long Le’s front door. “LONG, PAUSE THE LIVE STREAM – JUST WAIT!”
Hands sweaty and eyes fixed on the TV, Chen struggled with the lock as Harrison Ford took the stage. Tension building with each swell of the music, the door burst open as the Best Picture nominees flickered across the screen.
“DID I MISS IT?” yelped Aerin Oh, breathless, kicking off her shoes by the door. “DID THEY WIN?”
Hushed by the crowd, the girls took a hurried seat as Ford reapproached the mic. Le kept a white-knuckled grip on the champagne bottle in his hands.
“And the Oscar goes to…
‘Everything Everywhere All At Once.’”
Logline: In response to the new wave of support for AAPI cinema in Hollywood, Asian American female filmmakers are finding strength in community – ‘lifting as they climb’ to turn this moment into a movement.
As AAPI cinema increasingly gains visibility in Hollywood, Asian American female filmmakers are aiming to do just that. Forging strength and success in diverse communities, they are utilizing their networks to change the long-prejudiced industry for the better.
With a diaspora of more than 24 million people nationwide, Asian Americans are the fastest growing racial demographic in the United States. But, it’s no secret that their stories have seldom been shared on screen.
Oftentimes, this lack of representation in front of the camera can be linked with inequities behind it. In an analysis of the 1,300 top-grossing films released in the U.S. between 2007 and 2019, the Annenberg Inclusion Initiative found that only 48 boasted a director of Asian descent. Of these directors, only three were women.
And according to the experts, these disparities matter.
But, as “Everything Everywhere”’s recent victories can attest, Hollywood is finally, finally starting to change.
In 2018, “Crazy Rich Asians” became the first feature film in 25 years to helm an all-Asian cast. And though many executives initially dismissed the project as too big a gamble, its rise to become the highest grossing romcom in a decade proved that AAPI stories were worth the risk.
Since then, there’s been a dramatic increase in both appetite and space held for AAPI stories. From Netflix’s smash hit “To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before” to Bong Joon-ho’s history-making “Parasite,” AAPI cinema is receiving unprecedented acclaim. After a century of underrepresentation in the industry, the past five years have shown Asian American creatives – possibly for the first time – that their voices matter.
“I don’t even know how to describe it,” said first-year USC film student Natasha Chen, words catching in her throat. “It’s just … Society is changing. This is a sign that the entertainment industry is changing. That we can tell more of our stories, and that people will listen.”
That’s why “Everything Everywhere”’s Best Picture win meant so much to Chen, her friends, to thousands of Asian Americans across the country.
And that’s why AAPI female filmmakers are banding together to ensure that these awards are not a finish line, but a starting point.
The Joy Luck Club
1993
Mulan
1998
Crazy Rich Asians
2018
To All The Boys I've Loved Before
2018
Always Be My Maybe
2019
The Farewell
2019
Parasite
2019
Minari
2020
Nomadland
2021
Raya and the Last Dragon
2021
Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings
2021
Turning Red
2022
Everything Everywhere All At Once
2022
The Joy Luck Club
1993
Mulan
1998
Crazy Rich Asians
2018
To All The Boys I've Loved Before
2018
Always Be My Maybe
2019
The Farewell
2019
Parasite
2019
Minari
2020
Nomadland
2021
Raya and the Last Dragon
2021
Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings
2021
Turning Red
2022
Everything Everywhere All At Once
2022
As the leader of CAPE, Hollywood’s preeminent advocacy organization for AAPI creatives, Sugihara has had a front-row seat to the change rippling through Hollywood. Though this has been a decades-long fight, it’s now “hitting a tipping point and happening faster, on a bigger scale,” she said. But what’s truly driving this change?
In an industry where your network is your net worth, it’s hardly surprising that relationships are the backbone of cinematic success. And though Asian women have rarely been granted access these partnerships, communities like CAPE are helping them fight for a seat at the table.
“Hollywood is very much an insular club, where the power concentration lies within a very small minority of people,” Sugihara said. “And for much of history, the complexions of those people have largely been cis, white, male. So at CAPE, the whole point is, ‘How do we challenge this old boys’ club so we can bring up more AAPI, female and nonbinary filmmakers?’”
Over the past three decades, CAPE has provided both a space for Asian Americans to collaborate and the resources necessary for them to succeed. They’ve helped thousands of filmmakers – including award-winning producer Tracy Chitupatham – break into a once-unattainable industry.
“CAPE does so much more than just advocate for AAPI projects; they really try to cultivate community,” Chitupatham said. “They’ve collected almost every Asian in the industry – rallying us to support each other’s projects, books, everything…”
But for aspiring filmmakers who haven’t yet entered the working world, incredible communities also exist within neighborhoods, schools and colleges across Los Angeles.
And where these networks don’t already exist, Asian American women are creating them for themselves, for one another.
While at Columbia University, current Sony Pictures animation employee Soorim Lee noticed a stark lack of production courses in her curriculum. So, every semester, she set up her own equipment in the quad and waited for others to “just come and play.”
“Because I had the privilege of studying film production at an arts high school, I found myself in a really unique position where I could be a leader in helping other people learn,” she said. “We would do screenwriting workshops, speaker serieses, lessons on how to edit in Premiere. ... By junior year, I felt so connected to that community – especially because it was something that we built together.”
Now, fourth-year USC media, arts and practice student Ally Wei is spearheading a unique community of her own. A multi-medium creative who adores the intimacy behind art, Wei founded Fellows Collective last summer to help artists feel inspired through vulnerability and connection. With a growing community of over 1,000 members nationwide, the online collective matches like-minded creatives to produce zines, artwork, music and videos. This spring, they’re pursuing their most ambitious project yet: a crowd-funded short film called “All Of My Feelings.”
“There's something so special within creativity where you kind of open up,” Wei said. “There's a sense of vulnerability when you work with someone else and find what you’re both passionate about and connect those things through a medium that you both want to play around with. That’s what we’re really trying to do at Fellows – to make those connections and create meaningful art.”
For Josey Cuthrell-Tuttleman, student filmmaker and gaffer for “All Of My Feelings,” Fellows extends opportunities that many professional outlets have not.
“POC filmmakers generally don’t have the resources to match our white counterparts, so we have to do that much better to even break even,” she said. “So, I’m so happy that we’re working together to create our own communities and projects like this.”
But beyond the boundaries of formal groups and guilds, community also exists in individual relationships – in the bonds shared between women who want to see each other succeed.
“Community is the talented people you want to work with, but it’s also that emotional support,” said Kelly Yu, a rising AAPI writer-director. “It's a really tough industry, full of self-doubt, insecurity and comparison. So having people in your corner who can be a great DP or a great first AD but who can also be there for you in times of need – that’s a really valuable thing.”
For Yu, one of these trusted teammates is Emily Kim, an actor-turned-writer-director who operates by a similar philosophy. To her, community looks like “recurring working relationships with Asian women – filmmaker to filmmaker, friend to friend, Asian American to Asian American.” A 2022 USC graduate, Kim got her first job in the industry – second assistant to the President of Sony Pictures – through another Asian American friend in her cohort.
And hers isn't the only story.
After struggling for months to find work post-grad, Soorim Lee got her position at Sony because a friend from her college workshops distributed her resume at the company.
Without the advantage of a formal film education, Chitupatham rose the ranks by staying connected with AAPI collaborators from each of her sets.
Upon graduating this May, Wei will work full-time for an AAPI female-owned fashion company dedicated to elevating Asian artists.
All over the industry, Asian American women are refusing to settle for individual success; motivated by those who have poured into them, they continue to fight for more opportunities for faces that look like theirs.
Woman by woman, these networks are sustaining real change in the industry. By placing more Asian faces in the director’s seat, each of these connections is redefining what it means to be an Asian American woman in Hollywood.
When she first started making films, freelance filmmaker Jackie Lee struggled with intense self-doubt. “It just felt like there wasn’t anyone who looked like me, both in stories and behind the scenes,” she said. But now, with so many incredible AAPI faces on and off screen, she is finally “budding in my confidence that these stories – my stories – are worth being told.”
“It’s so cool that now, all these little white girls look at Michelle Yeoh and see her as their icon, too,” Kim added, beaming from ear to ear. “It’s hard to explain – it just blows my mind.”
Two weeks after our interview, I experienced this sensation myself. Arriving half an hour early to see Hsu in Bovard, I couldn’t believe the line already wrapped around campus – hundreds of people waiting eagerly to see someone who looked like me. Surrounded by students of every background, every race, I was overwhelmed by the reality that I was living through change.
“It's just so wild,” Hsu said, commenting on this feeling. “Sometimes change – it feels like it's trudging along. And then suddenly, it just floods open.”
And yet, it’s important to note that the battle is far from won. There’s still much work to be done, and we must always “push for more,” said Sugihara.
“You are the next generation of filmmakers,” Chitupatham said to me at the end of our interview. “Keep making the right decisions as you grow, and soon, those will become the norm.”
So, how do we do that?
“Find your community. We’re here.” Sugihara said. “And always make sure to lift as you climb.”
While sharing their stories, each filmmaker imparted some of the wisdom they've gained from creating in community. Hover over each headshot to hear their tips, tricks and advice for thriving in the entertainment industry.
