America, Open Your Eyes:

The Lifelong Struggle of the Asian-American Actor To Be Viewed As American

By Kentaro Yoshida

At first glance, Gerri Igarashi’s Brooklyn apartment seems the perfect candidate for the “normal American home” tab. There’s a pile of dishes in the sink, a bouquet on the dining room table, a homey couch in the living room, and a mess of papers on the desk. There are also two rooms for Igarashi’s two children, which is pretty close to the 2.5 kids-per-American-family average. But then, there are the pictures that decorate the apartment walls.

They’re photos of family members, but with a slight twist. Framed prints of ads for Toys R’ Us, Pampers, and Jello—as well as many other advertisements—adorn the living room walls. Painting the rest of the home are playbills, theater posters, and even a cereal box. What all of these items have in common is that they feature Gerri or her husband in some way. Any regular 3x5 developed-at-the-drugstore family snapshots are conspicuously missing. But Gerri Igarashi’s family is different. They’re an acting family—“An Asian-American acting family,” Gerri adds, with emphasis on the “American.”

With a hint of a smile, Gerri points to the Kellogg’s Corn Flakes box and says, “I wasn’t too bad back then, was I?” It’s hard to disagree, especially since she’s able to make corn flakes look attractive. On the Kellogg’s box, she’s sporting a charming smile and is wearing an elegant Japanese kimono, while delicately holding a bowl of Corn Flakes. Gerri’s eyes shine in the picture, accented beautifully by her sleek, black hair; together they paint a portrait of a strong and graceful woman.

“I did the Corn Flakes box right at the beginning of my career,” she says nostalgically. “I had dreams then, and many believed I had the talent to go with them,” she continues, shaking her head. “But I was naïve, and I didn’t anticipate the hidden forces that would severely limit my career.” Her voice bled of its passion a few sentences ago, and she bears a look of resignation.

She’s not the only one with this type of story; thousands of Asian-American actors share the same sentiment. The “forces” Gerri speaks of are the lack of roles available for Asian-American actors in television, film, and Broadway theater. Asian/Pacific Islanders, Native Americans, and the disabled are the least represented on-screen, according to the Screen Actors Guild. Asian actors’ small 2.5% share of the total roles cast (and a miniscule 0.4% share on day-time television), has decreased from 2003, while the number of roles for Latin and African-Americans in SAG has reached record highs.

“Once, when I expressed my desire to play Guinevere in Camelot, I was told that perhaps I could, in ‘theatre for the blind,’” says Christina Toy Johnson, one of the few well-established, non-traditional Asian-American actors, whose resume includes co-starring and featured roles in Broadway, film, and television. “Another time, I lost a job after being recommended by the director to the producer, because the producer wanted ‘a regular girl.’”

When Asian-American actors do book a role, they often could have named the part long before their agent called. Keenan Shimizu, an Asian-American who has made acting his career for thirty years, says, “Foreigners, villainous martial artists, professionals [doctors, scientists, etc…], or fatherly sages—[these are the kinds of roles that] Asian-American men get called for. Anything outside that is rare.”

For Asian-American actresses, the roles are similarly restricted. Offering a sigh, Gerri reels off a list well known to her, “Let’s see, there’s the “dragon lady" femme fatale roles, the "China doll" submissive types, the dry cleaner/manicurist, or the newscaster. It’s also amazing that there’s still this misconception that all Asian actors can do Asian accents and perform martial arts.”

Considering that Asians began to settle in America roughly a century ago, these misconceptions are, indeed, puzzling. Equally perplexing is that no Asian-American has won an Academy Award for acting, and only two (Pat Morita and Ken Watanabe), have received a nomination. What about Asian-American actors in Broadway theater? The facts here also paint a gloomy picture, as there hasn’t been more than one non-typecast Asian-American female portrayed on a Broadway play since 1992. In some ways, Broadway can be more backwards than television because they will cast non-Asian actors to play Asian characters (i.e. The King and I and South Pacific).

On a positive, this practice has decreased since Miss Saigon cast English actor Jonathan Pryce as an Asian character in 1990, causing a huge outcry from the Asian community. Pryce wore heavy prosthetic eyelids for the role, until people complained that it was racially offensive.

Following the Yellow Brick Road

Gerri finishes fixing her make-up and puts her blush into her purse. She drums her fingers softly on the table, then uncrosses and re-crosses her legs. She’s finished her paper, and now has run out of things to do. Gerri is in the holding area on the set of The Interpreter, a big-budget film starring Nicole Kidman, with an opening date set for early 2005. The extras for the movie stay in the holding area.

“I do about twenty of these a year, but it’s just to keep the food on the table,” Gerri says, with a restless look in her eyes. “This isn’t really acting.” As the day progresses, her comments prove to be true. The actors are herded in and out of set, and their primary job seems to be to remain unnoticed.

“I didn’t train all those years for this. I just wanted a real chance to show my skills, and if I had been given more of an opportunity, who knows what would’ve…” Gerri’s voice trails off, and she takes a deep breath.

Alan Muraoka, who has been acting and directing professionally for over two decades, seems to finish Gerri’s thought. “I graduated from a very distinguished acting program at UCLA, and then won the Musical Theater Scholarship that Carol Burnett endows,” says Muraoka proudly. “During that time, I scored many diverse roles.”

“But when I graduated, everything changed. Often, even though we had the same agent and were the same age, my Caucasian acting friends from UCLA would be called to audition for non race-specific roles while I would not.”

When Muraoka did receive a chance at a prominent non race-specific role, he made the most of it. In 1997, he went to an audition for a major reoccurring character on Sesame Street. Although the producers were not originally looking for an Asian-American actor, Muraoka impressed them enough to be considered. After numerous call-backs, Muraoka was informed that he had booked the role of Mr. Hooper, which he still holds today.

Christina Toy Johnson also had success when given the opportunity to audition for non race-specific roles. When she booked the role of Detective Lisa West in 1998, becoming a series regular on One Life to Live, she also became the only regularly recurring Asian-American actor on a soap opera at the time.

Unfortunately, minor breakthroughs are not enough to push the Asian-American entertainer into the mainstream. Asian-American actors need to make landmark achievements for America take notice. And as we speak, Asian-American actors have good reason to believe this will materialize soon.

Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle, released this summer, achieving moderate box-office success, was the first mainstream Hollywood movie to star two Asian-American men. “While it wasn’t a blockbuster, I wouldn’t underestimate its significance,” says Johnson. “First of all, it wasn’t a flop – it actually penetrated far enough into the mainstream that a person off the street has heard of it. Secondly, when you see the movie, you can tell the two main actors are people who are also, incidentally, Asian.”

Ken Watanabe’s nomination for the 2003 Best Supporting Oscar for his role as Katsumoto in The Last Samurai is another reason for Asian-American actors to be hopeful. “The Last Samurai definitely qualifies as a smash hit [box-office totals came to over 100 million], and millions of people saw Watanabe give an exceptional performance,” says Gerri. “More importantly, while he wasn’t the lead actor, Watanabe had a multi-dimensional role. Plus, he got the opportunity to really act.”

And these breakthroughs aren’t exactly isolated events. Rick Yune (The Fast and the Furious, Die Another Day), is booked to play a romantic lead opposite a famous singer in the film The Fifth Commandment. Ken Watanabe has two major films on his plate: Memoirs of a Geisha and Batman Begins. Perhaps more momentous is the pending launch of the sitcom Hold the Rice (holdtherice.com), which boasts Cece Tsouas as the lead. Tsouas’ character is about as un-stereotypically Asian as you can get – she is a blonde car mechanic.

Still, Shimizu cautions against excessive optimism. “We had something like this in 1994, when Double Happiness and The Joy Luck Club became hits. Suddenly, the buzz was that everything was going to change for us [Asian-American actors]. Then, in 1998, Margaret Cho’s sitcom bombed, and that “Asian wave” that everyone was anticipating never materialized.”

“There have been many times where I really thought we were progressing, and that we were so close to a tremendous breakthrough,” Gerri also confesses. “But in the end, it’s like we’ve been walking down this yellow brick road, and, like Dorothy and her companions, at the end find that we have put our hopes into an illusion.”

Fighting Back, Sans Karate Chop

Since Asian-American actors don’t have power over what roles are created, there isn’t much they can do to raise the level of good content available to them. While they can decline roles that are offensively stereotypical, there will always be some hungry actor with “yellow skin,” ready to take that paycheck. Also, rejecting a job spells death for an actor’s career, unless the actor is a well-established star. So, what recourse is left?

“There is no recourse for the Asian-American actor,” responds Muraoka. “That’s why we have to get behind the camera, where we can actually create roles and influence the casting process. We have even less Asian-Americans there [behind the scenes], and that’s the real source of the problem.” Statistics from the Writers Guild strongly back Muraoka’s claim. From 1998 to 2003, only 5% of the writers for television and film have been Asian.

“How can we expect writers who don’t identify with us to create meaningful roles for us?” Gerri asks. “Since the typical Caucasian writer doesn’t know us, when he writes us into a script he uses what he does know: stereotypes.”

Becoming a writer isn’t the only way Asians can influence the acting business; there’s also directing and managing. Muraoka has directed over ten productions and plans to do many more. “When I direct, I have a say in how we cast. I believe I actually will make more of an impact for Asian-American actors as a director than as an actor.”

Ken Park, who manages actors in New York City, is also pushing hard for change from the other side. “This is why I get up in the morning: to fight for better roles for Asian-American actors today. My mission is to push Asian talent into the mainstream,” he says emphatically. Park concentrates on getting his Asian-American actors chances to audition for non-typecast roles, and he is valued in the Asian-American acting community. “Ken Park has been wonderful for us, and we desperately need more like him,” says Gerri.

* * *

After finishing a lengthy day of extra work on The Interpreter, Gerri is at home touching up her make-up again. There’s a shimmer in her eyes that was absent on the set of the film, and it’s almost as bright as the one she has on the Corn Flakes box. Once that’s complete, she rushes to her room to change clothes. It’s almost 6:00 p.m., and she’s in a hurry. Where is she headed? Could it be to an audition for a lead role? Could it be a rehearsal for a Broadway play or major film?

“Screenwriting class,” she exclaims with a smile.