Totally. Not to get too heavy, myself, but the entire Asian side of my family has passed on already, and I’ll never taste my grandma’s favorite squid dish or her potato soup again. That moment with the girl showing Antonio how to eat their food—the wrap—it’s like the young teaching the old, and that moment is so beautiful.
Wow, amazing. Yeah, it’s blood memory, as I call it. That kind of thing gets baked into you.
My dad barely knew his extended Korean family because he came here as a young child, so I often wonder, if I ever went to Korea, would they even consider me family?
It’s crazy that you can relate in that way, and Antonio is that times a thousand because he doesn’t know anything about his culture.
What was developing Parker like, as a character? The contrast between her world and Antonio’s is a big part of the film.
She was integral. Antonio doesn’t have a connection with where he came from, and he’s not A to B with it all either. One of the reasons I set it in New Orleans was because of the huge Vietnamese community. Refugees after the Vietnam War were placed in the South, such as Texas, Louisiana, or Mississippi. Parker is a mirror who forces Antonio into introspection. Also, the fact that she is dying [of cancer] makes him take a step back and realize certain problems don’t seem as important when you’re directly faced with death. It forces him become honest with himself regarding his situation. And her side of the Asian spectrum allows him to see what his life could be like through an adjacent Asian culture.
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You don’t shy away from dramatic confrontation. Your movies are pretty intense. I wonder if that has to do with your background in Meiser as an actor?
Absolutely. You find a lot of truth in those kinds of scenes—the organic and truthful comes out. Film is a heightened reality; you’re showing very private moments in a very public way to the audience, and I find those moments exhilarating. People’s relationships or life situations come to a head, and people need to talk about things. As an actor, those elements can be incredibly profound and illuminating to the human condition.
You use many long takes dividing people in space, almost like there’s an invisible barrier you can feel, which you pay off wonderfully in the final airport scene. I love the shot with the light between Kathy and Ace too.
There’s a scene that didn’t end up in the film with Ace and Kathy, where she shows up at his place, and they have this long conversation. Those moments say a lot about what the characters feel internally, and you get a glimpse at who they are, but sometimes you don’t have enough real estate. I love Kathy and Ace, so much—for who they are as people —and I also wanted to play with the idea that things aren’t as two-dimensional as they seem. There’s so much more to their backstories, feelings, and what they’re thinking than what’s on-screen, and I’m always trying to capture that.
Did you find balancing capturing what you needed as a director with the emotional outbursts required as an actor difficult?
I’m looking for what feels truthful and doesn’t feel forced. Moments that feel forced have to go. It comes down to the intention of the film. Bringing attention to the issues at hand of all these adoptees getting deported was the spine of it, and every scene in the movie had to service that, first and foremost.
I read John Cassavetes was an influence here; I’m curious if you use different cinematic reference points or touchstones? “Gook” feels more indebted to a film like “La Haine,” for example…
As a filmmaker it’s impossible to say you’re a complete original. I think being original does not exist. You are an amalgamation of everything you’ve seen and experienced, and the things you gravitate towards and connect with can’t help but work their way into your art. For this one, yeah, Cassavetes was big. Work I’d seen in the theater world made its way in.
Cinematically, one sequence where, transitionally, he’s going to try and stay [in America], and he’s handing out flyers; we used hand crank for that. As tangential and non-related as it is, Tony Scott’s “Déjà Vu” was something we were tipping our hat towards—I like the hand crank that’s in that film. But it’s not 1:1. “Déjà Vu” is the furthest possible reference to this film, but it’s in there! The more boring comparisons are the ones to Wong Kar-wai. Using a low frame rate doesn’t mean it’s necessarily a nod to him; it could be more Tony Scott. Many people use that technique, but I understand that because I’m Asian, they want to make those comparisons. I also used a low frame rate for the motorcycle shop robbery.
I’d be lying if I said these things weren’t present, but there’s also just as much [Hirokazu] Kore-eda influence in terms of family politics and drama. Cassavetes for complex human dynamics. Then there’s the race of it all. I’m always thinking about Spike [Lee] and how to navigate racial topics in America. All that works its way in somehow, even if it’s subconscious.
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I have to plead guilty to making a Wong Kar-wai comparison in my “Ms. Purple” review—mainly cause of the shot where they’re sitting at dinner by the street and the lights shifting with the frame-rate stuff…
That film is more of a fair comparison. In “Ms. Purple,” it was a big thing to use a low frame rate for very emotional scenes —whenever there was heightened emotion, and she was going through total turmoil, I used that effect. Rather than base it around mood and human connection, I used it whenever she went through some crazy shit.
I love your use of space and color. Your films have this expressively confident stylized realism to them. They’re often verité and composition heavy at the same time. How do you balance that?
I tend to think that my style has a grounded lyricism to it. That’s what I aim for—grounded drama that is visceral and feels raw but also feels lyrical and poetic at times. Those are the things that turn me on—the realistic, truthful nature of human interaction. But there are times when I turned on by expressing something in a more heightened way. I’m always trying to mix those two. Some people think it’s tonally too crazy and off, and other people appreciate it. It’s what gets me excited, personally.
You worked with 2 DPs on this. Was that a logistic/production thing, a stylistic choice?
Ante Cheng is a longtime collaborator, but he needs to make money and work, and I can’t deter him and predict exactly when our film will shoot. He was working at the time, and I connected with Matthew Chuang. Him being Aussie Asian means immigration is a big deal to him. Then Ante became available, and we had a candid conversation between the 3 of us—if we’d be cool putting our egos aside to create a brain trust for the film’s visuals in servicing the vision. Everyone was up for it, so it was a party.
I have to ask you about casting/working with Alicia Vikander; she’s amazing in the movie and is on a roll right now between this and “The Green Knight.”
She’s the best. Alicia is a consummate professional who cares about the right things. She’s extremely talented. She’s extremely human. She brings humanity to every role. That’s why I wanted to work with her. What excited me most was that I’d mainly seen her in a lot of corset dramas. This was something completely different, but I knew she’d absolutely and completely obliterate. There’s a fire and intangible love she exudes.
I just saw “The Green Knight,” and even in that, she’s so gravitational—she’s entirely, fully realized as a character in both that film and this film. It was a true honor to work with her. She brought so much to the table, and the pleasure was all mine.
“Blue Bayou” opens in theaters on September 17 via Focus Features.