Anna May Wong - The Actress Who Died a Thousand Deaths
Director’s Note
“You know, there is one place that all the people with the greatest potential are gathered and that’s the graveyard. People ask me all the time — what kind of stories do you want to tell, Viola? And I say exhume those bodies. Exhume those stories — the stories of the people who dreamed big and never saw those dreams to fruition, people who fell in love and lost.”
- Viola Davis
A scene from this show came to me in a dream. It sounds bizarre, but since I first learned of Anna May Wong in a documentary on Asian American history, she has lingered with me ever since. There is something so striking about the way she faces the film camera. Since the dream I’ve felt a deep seated need to bring her off-screen story to life.
Before terms like “Asian American” were coined in the 60s, Anna May Wong occupied an in-between space that was outside of the mainstream. A third generation Asian American in the 1920s, she grew up in a laundromat, and embroiled in racial and gender tensions even before she even hit the screen. When she achieved stardom, more than ever was she implicated and caught up in the politics of the time. She was used as the subject of the West’s exotic fantasies of the East, as well as their fear during a time where “yellow peril” was at a fever pitch. She was also used as a scapegoat in China’s negotiation with ‘modernization,’ they saw her as a representation of “old China,” and her onscreen characters an immoral portrayal of Chinese women. Estranged by both countries she called home, she created her own hybrid space. She was neither victim nor villain, but instead traversed the world in very self aware and complex ways.
Wong has been a taboo subject for years. Many within the Asian American community rejected her and her stereotypical “China Doll” and “Dragon Lady” roles - always destined to die because she could not possibly have a happy ending with the protagonist (who was almost always a white man). But in my view, through her acting, she transformed caricatures into real characters. Since her centennial, people have re-examined her legacy, one haunted by shame and anger. She once said, commenting on stardom, that “the brightest star can fall down at any time for short-lived reasons and can miserably fade away into the dust. The audience is an implacable judge.” Her legacy continues to depend on those who choose to remember and how they do so.
“Live cinema theater” is a term I borrow from director Katie Mitchell, who also utilizes live filming and projection on stage. Wong Chong, in Thunderstorm 2.0, has also done his own version of “live cinema theater.” The definition is vague, as different artists have used the camera for different purposes on stage. As we bring “live cinema theater” to the Balch Arena Theater for the first time, we hope to contribute to a growing art form. The technique not only reveals the careful artifice that goes into crafting an image of someone, but also the potential for empowerment as well. It reminds the audience that even this show is just another interpretation of a star’s life witnessed from multiple perspectives.
The camera and the stage are powerful tools in the arena for battles of representation; exotification, whitewashing and yellowface are not confined to Anna May’s time. They continue to thrive, from films just released this year, such as Doctor Strange and Ghost in the Shell, to theatrical productions such as Mikado and Miss Saigon.
In the past decade Anna May Wong has reappeared. Her film Piccadilly went through extensive restoration and was given a second release. Two biographies were released on her life, along with Elizabeth Wong’s play, China Doll: The Imagined Life of an American Actress. While much of her films are buried deep in the archives and many more lost forever, we still have copious records of her life and her legacy. But that being said, since starting this project, even amongst other Asians/Asian Americans, so many have asked me who she is. Remembrance is the way we honor those who have paved the path before for us, to learn from their struggles and perseverance. Which begs the question: how many stories have we missed and failed to tell?
Anna May Wong was fond of saying that in her career she had died a thousand deaths. Through this show, and your viewing of this show, we have started to exhume her together.
Here’s hoping she will not be forgotten again.