hardboiled

samurai girl: an asian american perspective

“Samurai Girl” is a new six-part TV show starring Jamie Chung (of “The Real World San Diego” fame) based on a series of young adult novels from the early 2000s. It is a story of an orphaned Japanese girl, Heaven, who is adopted by a wealthy and prestigious family. The family, which has some sort of Yakuza connection (cliché 1), arranged a marriage (cliché 2!) for the young woman. Her brother is killed during her marriage ceremony causing her to seek revenge (cliché 3) through the tutelage of a samurai master (cliché 4, which is also interchangeable with “Kung Fu master,” “ramen master,” “Shaolin soccer master,” and you get the idea). The master is, of course, an easy-on-the-eyes white guy played by Brenden Fehr (“Roswell”) who is more jarhead than samurai master. By the way ABC, buzz cuts aren’t very authentic.

The biggest issue I have with “Samurai Girl” was that it had so much potential. After several months of hype from ABC, including endless commercials and a panel at Comic-Con, “Samurai Girl” failed to deliver an “original” event as promoted. While clichés are clichés because they are constantly repeated in mainstream media, “Samurai Girl” could have grounded these clichés in reality. But instead ABC underestimated their audience and went for the not-quite-family drama-comedy. The ethnicity of Heaven is clear but those that surround her (such as the stereotypical geeky friend and the overly-spunky friend) are denied of character depth and diversity. According to AngryAsianMan.com, “It’s worth noting in the book series, this sensei character is actually a Japanese guy, Hiro Uyemoto, described on the book website as “Heaven’s crush-worthy samurai mentor.” I was told by someone who read an early draft of the pilot script that this character was indeed an Asian guy.”

So what happened? This brings up all sorts of long-standing issues concerning Asian Americans on screen: the casting of white actors (AKA white casting) to replace Asian actors like in the film “21”, the emasculating of Asian American males to nerd status, and the absence of Asian American males in any type of commercial media. These are serious issues that fails to be recognized by the mainstream media execs.

As a 22-year-old Asian American female, I would give an arm and leg to see fair representation of Asian American males onscreen---any screen! I am not alone. Even the ABC audience is aware of the “white casting”. On the official website forum, there is only one thread titled “Whiteout of Asian Characters???,” which garnered passionate responses. One person describes the show as “totally ridiculous writing with a premise that caters to the white male perspective, albeit they will always have the Asian woman around as a lust interest. Such typical whitewashed bilge!”

It is also problematic that most the threads on ABC’s webpage are devoted not to the “whiteout” of Hiro Uyemoto, but rather the obsession with seeing some action between Heaven and Jack. (Google “H&J needs to hook up for good!”). ABC must figure out a better way to balance commercial romance with the diversity of its audience.

In addition to this, many felt that portrayals of Asians in the show were too limited and hinged on overused stereotypes. A person writes, “Too bad they were almost all tired old stereotypes. Faithful old driver? Evil crime lord? Henchmen in black suits? Ninja warriors? Is this all that Asians are good for in American media? ABC even changed the love interest from a Japanese guy to a white guy.” Nothing against your Fehr, but we’ve seen too much of the like.

I’m a little ashamed to admit that I have read the books during my high school years. Instead of picking up the next “Sweet Valley High” or “Gossip Girl”, it was surprising and refreshing to see a cover that reflected someone I’ve seen in the mirror while growing up. While the story is not always believable, it features some poetic and poignant moments. Compared to the TV show, the opening line of the book “My name is Heaven Kogo, and I died on my wedding day...” says a lot more than the first episode of the series. The TV show surprised and disappointed me in a few ways. “Samurai Girl” is not quite as saccharine as a Disney’s teen-empowerment-through-music-and-fame message à la “Camp Rock” or at best, “Wendy Wu: Homecoming Warrior”. While “Wendy Wu” was the one of the first to show Asian American girls kicking butt, it was highly tailored to a Miley Cyrus crazed Disney audience. “Samurai Girl” is a couple steps up in story-telling with themes like murder, revenge, dislocation, adoption and deep dark family secrets. Heaven is a strong character and Chung holds up well early in her acting career. I can forgive her stilted lines in place of her believable teenage angst, ass-kicking and pretty profile. In fact, the original book and concept provided fertile ground for different kind of show. However, the show needs a lot of work to effectively convey the original concept and avoid being offensive and tiresome.

“Samurai Girl” stands on the verge of being something good, a fantastical show that serves to repeal old stereotypes and bring about a new perspective on Asian Americans. But in the end, it downgrades itself by tailoring the script to provide an excuse for a good-looking white guy to take his shirt off.