”别告诉她“

 

“In the East, a person’s life is a part of a whole.” 

I watched “The Farewell,” last night. 

There were tears. But, not as many tears as I was expecting there to be. 

If you guys are unfamiliar with this indie film’s plot, it’s basically about a family that stages a wedding as an excuse for everyone to return to China for their grandmother because she is dying. The catch is, no one tells her that she is dying. 

I vividly remember watching the trailer last spring. I was sitting in my car, parked on Benedetti, and crying my eyes out before school. 

I am not going into the story itself, and I’m definitely not going to reveal the ending, but I’d like to take this time to talk about the very real issues that the film brings to light. This narrative is so important because it allows people who look like me to realize that they are not alone in their struggle.

Being an Asian American, I know what it feels like to have my two cultures clash. I spend my mornings putting on makeup, trying to create facial structures that are not native to my ethnicity, even though I take pride in my warm skin and dark eyebrows. I used to gravitate towards the white people when I’d be in a new social situation, despite having met my greatest friend at Chinese school 12 years ago. I love listening to traditional, Chinese folk music in my car, but I always turn it off when I drive my friends. I love my grandma. I am constantly wishing that I paid more attention during Chinese school so that I’d be able to communicate with her better. Billi, the main character, seemed to be pulled from all directions too and I felt so horrible for her. 

I’m going to watch the movie again tonight, because there were some parts I was a little confused on. In the movie, there is this recurring argument that the families have with each other around the dinner table. Billi’s family, the one that moved to America, is constantly boasting about the vast opportunities in the West while the remaining families in China guilts them for leaving their kin behind in the East. It felt like the director, Lulu Wang, included these arguments so the audience could understand the multiple perspectives. However, Wang seems to be making a statement when Billi is walking out of the restaurant and passes by a private room that is filled with loud, smoking men surrounded by young, malnourished girls dressed in little clothing. It’s a heartbreaking scene as the camera focuses in on one of the girls who seems to be pleading for help. In an earlier scene, the hotel concierge bombards Billi with questions about her life in the US, and makes her feel slightly uncomfortable when he tries to stay in her hotel room to talk. Some may see this as creepy but some may see this as a genuine act of curiosity. It is moments like these that make me think that Wang is trying to emphasize the privilege of the West rather than equally compare the two cultures. Sure, Billi is struggling to pay her rent back in New York and she got denied from her fellowship – she has her own problems to deal with back home. But, through witnessing all the grit and hardship in Changchun, China, she realizes that her life seems to be on a golden pedestal compared to others.

I’m not exactly sure if that’s what Wang is trying to say – or maybe she purposely left it up for audience interpretation. Either way, I’m still watching it again tonight.  

The movie is so real to me and it encapsulates the dizzying feeling of traveling from country to country perfectly. There’s a point in the film where Billi breaks down and expresses the sorrow she felt when her parents didn’t let her go to her grandpa’s funeral in China because they didn’t want her to miss school. It’s crazy; I’ve never gotten to go to any of my family members’ funerals in Taiwan for the exact same reason. Billi’s understandable but broken Chinese reminds me of whenever I talk to my family in Mandarin and how badly I wish I could have real conversations with them. 

All in all though, this movie was iconic, to say the least. The star-studded cast was stacked with extremely well-known Chinese actors, young and old. I am so happy that Hollywood has been more accepting towards these all-Asian movies because I finally feel like my story is being told. 

The Chinese title of the movie is “别告诉她,” which directly translates to “Don’t tell her.” It is the forefront of this movie, highlighting the cultural disparities between the East and the West. But you don’t have to be Chinese or Asian to enjoy “The Farewell.” I would really recommend this movie to someone who likes to be moved and who just likes a good story. If more people could get over the language barrier and learn to indulge in subtitles, they would be able to see that “The Farewell” is about love, loss, and healing. It is heartbreaking and heartwarming at the same time. The movie teaches us important life lessons that extend past any sort of cultural obstructions. 

I’ve done a poor job bringing justice to how great this film really is. It is hard to put words to something that feels like it’s a part of you.

Anyway, to finish, here’s my favorite quote from “别告诉她”. It takes 20 seconds to Google translate it, you can do it: 

“我们只所以不告诉奶奶事情就是为了分她的思想压力。”