Diversity in film: All flash, no substance

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The new Mulan is the latest example of big-budget movies that fail to deliver on representation.

The announcement of a live-action remake of Mulan, the 1998 Disney animated classic, was met with much fanfare. However, details about the possible addition of a white love interest and the rumour that Disney was not looking for an Asian actress to play Mulan was met with equal backlash. To win back the crowd, Disney brought in new writers, launched a worldwide search for an actress to play Mulan, and—most importantly—promised an East-Asian cast.

The representation of Black, Indigenous, and people of colour in the media has been a hot topic of discussion for the past few years, especially for the Asian community. Most often, we are led to support movies with diverse casts. This line of thinking is that by supporting these films, companies will take notice, eventually leading to more BIPOC films and even more representation. Noticeably, the East-Asian cast of Mulan (2020) has been enough for legions of people on the Internet to argue that it should be supported, despite the bleak changes from the original film, the non-Asian director and writers, and even lead actress Liu Yifei’s support for the Hong Kong police.

I can personally attest to the marketing power of Asian representation. Ever since I was a child, I have eagerly consumed media that had people that looked like me. As a result, I was willing to give the new Mulan a try, even if there would be no Mushu or catchy songs. After watching it, however, I was reminded of why diverse casts sound good on paper, but mean virtually nothing when there is no diversity behind the scenes. Much like the movie itself, which was gorgeous but had no real emotion or meaning, the East-Asian representation in Mulan was surface-level at best.

Disney’s claim that they wanted to make the live-action movie more faithful to the original story, a treasured Chinese folk tale, was undermined by the addition of a witch and a severe mischaracterization of qi. The costumes looked cheap. Action shots meant to pay homage to wuxia films like Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon looked out of place. And despite removing characters and songs to supposedly appeal to the Chinese market, the movie failed to enamour Chinese audiences and was eviscerated on Chinese review sites. All of this can be traced back to the lack of Asian writers, costume designers, and directors. Watching the movie, it became painfully obvious that it seemed no Chinese person had been consulted at any point. There was no attempt to faithfully or respectfully depict Chinese culture beyond the actors.

Considering the other problems facing the world, representation in media – and specifically, how Mulan represents Chinese culture – seems like a relatively small issue. However, when representation is done well (such as in The Farewell, which made me break down in tears), it can be incredibly gratifying, comforting, and inspiring to see yourself on screen. We are able to emphasize so strongly with the characters, because we went through similar experiences. 

Mulan isn’t the first movie to cover a lack of respect for other cultures using a cast of people of colour—the writer of Hidden Figures, for example, added a problematic “white saviour” scene. The problem is, if it is successful, it surely will not be the last. Profit drives media, and if companies like Disney can get away with putting minimal effort into representation and diversity, then I believe that they will continue to do just that.

I am not going to lose sleep over this movie. I expected it to disappoint. However, demanding representation in 2020 should be less about demanding visibility in the form of diverse casts, but instead, it should be about demanding control over our stories and how they are told. Film and television will only be improved by BIPOC writers and directors, who bring their own unique experiences and ideas to their craft. 

So instead of Mulan, watch Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. Watch Parasite. Watch The Farewell. Support stories created by Asians, not just the ones that feature us.

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About the author

Alice Liu

Arts & Culture Editor

By Alice Liu

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