Return of the Drama Queen
The screen legend sidesteps Hollywood's 'exotic' roles for more complex portraits of mothers on the verge.
Joan Chen is feeling a little stressed lately. Calling from her adopted home city of San Francisco, Calif., the screen legend is almost breathless. Don't worry, it's the good kind of pressure that comes with juggling an exciting new slate of films and the demands of family life.
She promised them they could go shopping, said Chen about her husband Peter Hui, nine-year-old Angela and Audrey, 6. In a week, the actress who gained international fame in 1987 as an opium-addicted empress in "The Last Emperor," will be flying away to the French Riviera for the Cannes Film Festival. Her new film, "24 City," is in competition for the coveted Palme d'Or award.
Somewhere in the background, the tinkling of a department store piano brings her back to the present.
"I drift wherever. I never had a plan," said Chen, 47, about her career.
On her uncharted journey to the silver screen, she has always found amazing opportunities. Would you call it luck or fate to be discovered in a Los Angeles studio parking lot? After moving to the United States in the 1980s to attend school, Chen caught the eye of a legendary producer. She was walking through a parking lot when a "huge car and a small man in it" pulled up next to her. It was Dino De Laurentiis.
"He said, 'Did you know Lana Turner was discovered in a drug store?' He had this heavy Italian accent. I thought it was some dirty man trying to hit on me," Chen laughed. That chance meeting led to a role as a concubine in the 1986 film "Tai-Pan."
Many similar roles followed. "A lot of exotic flower types or the exotic villain types."
But in the last few years, Chen has stretched beyond typecasts to embrace comedy in the 2004 film "Saving Face" and wartime drama in last year's "Lust, Caution."
Her role as a nightclub singer struggling with single motherhood in "The Home Song Stories" won her a best actress prize at the 2007 Golden Horse Awards.
"It's my return to drama ... my return to being a drama queen."
Portrait of a Mother
"I love this movie," said Chen about "The Home Song Stories."
She first read the script, which is based on Australian filmmaker Tony Ayre's real life, in 2003.
"I knew right away that I wanted to play the part," she said about Rose, the sensual single mother who relies on her beauty and the kindness of men to get through life. "It's a really juicy part."
At first, Chen was plagued with fear. She was afraid that Rose was too unsympathetic.
"Being a mother myself, I'm sure she loved her children," said Chen who tried to breathe warmth into the character.
But she understands Rose. What if she became a parent in her 20s when she wasn't ready?
To prepare for the role, Chen simply looked at her own life through a microscope. When her temper flared up at her children, she thought about Rose. When she was trying to make amends with her children, she thought about Rose.
"This is the type of mother we seldom see onscreen," she said. Rose inhabits this complicated gray area we're not used to seeing. In Hollywood, moms are either June Cleavers or Joan Crawfords in "Mommie Dearest." Rose is some place in the middle. She is complex and flawed.
"It's Tony's portrait of a woman he is trying to understand."
Like in real life, Rose uproots herself and her family and plops down in 1960s Australia.
It's the classic immigrant story, said Chen.
"That part of Rose's life parallels with mine," she said. "But I'm much luckier."
A Gray Area
Chen became a U.S. citizen in 1988 when she discovered that her identity did not magically change once she took the oath. The feeling of being American didn't automatically rush over her after waving the small American flag she was given - it was a lot more complicated. She didn't feel Chinese American, but she wasn't just Chinese anymore.
Only recently did Chen start feeling a little more comfortable with the title of Asian Pacific American.
"For the longest time, I didn't want to identify with this group. I'm an immigrant. I don't have the sense of entitlement of someone who is born in the U.S. You come to a strange land and you expect certain difficulties."
There was a time when she didn't think much of calling herself "Oriental," until someone told her it was a denigrating term. And when people tell her she speaks English well, she actually takes it as a compliment.
In the beginning of her career, she even went along with the stereotypes.
"It was funny and strange. I thought it was fun. They would tell me to do this and do that. I saw it as a challenge. Oh, this is who Americans think Chinese people are? Later on, I would look back and think 'Oh, that was so stereotypical!'"
For "Tai-Pan," the filmmakers were dissatisfied with the Asian-ness of her accent, so they hired a dialect coach to train her to speak with what they thought was a real Chinese accent.
"I was trying to learn the American perception of what Chinese was."
She's more comfortable in her skin these days as a mother of two American-born daughters.
"They need to be prepared to be stronger than the Chinese Americans of my generation. I think they will be stronger."
And the Hollywood of today is much friendlier to APAs than the Hollywood she broke into over 20 years ago - there is more representation and visibility.
"That [Harold and Kumar] movie is great! I haven't seen the new one yet, but the first one - I love it."
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