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The problem for Asians in Hollywood is not that they feel injured but that they are invisible. Asian Americans represent about 3% of the U.S. population and get 3% of the movie and television roles -- but usually minor ones. "Since the beginning of films," says Sumi Sevilla Haru, president of the Association of Asian-Pacific American Artists, "African Americans have tried to improve their image. Now Asian Americans are trying to get a piece of the action. The only Asian in prime-time television is David Carradine playing one on the syndicated Kung Fu. That kind of sucks, doesn't it?"
Still, in the casting offices, there is a dawning of hope. Jason Scott Lee, the Hawaiian-born Asian who played Bruce Lee in the spring hit Dragon ($35 million in the U.S., plenty more abroad), could be the first major Asian hunk in Hollywood since Sessue Hayakawa 75 years ago. "In this town Jason instantly became somebody who could star in a movie," says Chris Lee, senior vice president at TriStar Pictures and one of several Asian Americans (Teddy Zee at Columbia, Bonni Lee at Geffen, Richard Sakai at Jim Brooks' Gracie Productions) inching their way up Mogul Mountain. "We've entered the system and there's more of us to come, and that's changing the face of Hollywood."
! What has changed is the suspicion that Asian Americans don't know American culture. Wang, who was named after John Wayne and has been in the U.S. since 1967, recalls when he would "go up for a film job and the producer would ask me what made me think I could direct a movie about teenagers in Minnesota. So I'd say to them, 'Would you ask Ridley Scott or Tony Scott ((two British directors working in America)) that same question?' Because I've been here much longer than they have." And what hasn't changed is that studio owners, whether American or Japanese, are not interested in promoting any cultural agenda. "I'm going to put my foot in my mouth here," says Wang, "but the Japanese probably go out of their way to say they don't want Asian films. They have absolutely no interest in promoting Asian-American culture in this country."
If one person could symbolize Asian Americans, it might be Tiana Thi Tranh Nga. She was born in Vietnam in the '50s. Her uncle was a defense minister in the Thieu government; her father served as press minister and left for California in 1966. Teenage Tiana became an American: "In school, when kids said they hated the gooks, I did too. They were killing our guys." She became an actress and fitness teacher (Karatecize with Tiana). Then she decided to visit Vietnam. From Hollywood to Hanoi, a record of her trip, offers an engrossing take on the images and memories that Americans have of Asia.
In Ho Chi Minh City an aunt, living in devastating poverty, is hopeful that her relatives in America will help her. "I wanted to write letters," she says between tears, "but I couldn't afford the stamp." Tiana hears gruesome testimony from Amerasian orphans and My Lai survivors. In Hanoi she dances with Oliver Stone at the Metropole hotel and converses with Le Duc Tho, Pham Van Dong, General Giap -- old warriors from an old nightmare.