No more chopsticks, steaming cups of tea, or women in slinky cheongsam dresses. Maybe not even any Asian characters at all. If there is one thing the National Asian American Theater Festival is attempting to prove, it's that the old stereotypes are not necessarily what the current generation of Asian-American playwrights and actors is all about.
"There is a philosophical and aesthetic shift away from the way Asian-American theatre was constructed in the 1970s," said Ralph Pena, whose Ma-Yi Theater Company is one of the organizers of the festival, which runs June 11-24 in New York City. "When you say 'Asian-American' today, it's not necessarily what it once was."
"What's interesting about the works in the festival is that they run the gamut from immigration stories to nontraditional shows that happen to have an Asian cast," added Alan Muraoka, a Sesame Street cast member who is directing an Asian version of the Jewish-American musical Falsettoland.
This means that some of the 33 works on view, representing 25 Asian-American performing arts companies and solo artists, will touch on long-standing themes -- such as assimilation, racism, and the history of Japanese Americans being forced into internment camps during World War II. But there will also be an Asian version of Federico GarcÄ‚Âa Lorca's The House of Bernarda Alba; Living Dead in Denmark, described as "an action-adventure/horror sequel to William Shakespeare's Hamlet" a sketch-comedy revue titled The Caste and the Furious: Tokyo Drift; and many more.
"You will see the old guard sticking to the classics," Pena said, "rehashing the same issues, such as the camps. But another segment of Asian theatre said, 'I don't want to talk about that anymore. Assimilation and integration are no longer important to me.' "
In other words, now that some Asian Americans have assimilated and integrated, what does that mean for them? For San Francisco Bay Area performance artist Stevie Lee Saxon, it's a one-man show called Korean Badass, in which he tells of his desire to become the Asian Steve McQueen.
"The new generation of Asian Americans, we want our identity," Saxon said. "Growing up, I never saw an Asian-American male on TV and in film who was a real flesh-and-blood person. The Asian guy was never a sex symbol, and you had Jet Li and Bruce Lee, who just did karate. So I grew up admiring McQueen, De Niro, and Brando."
Saxon and others emphasize that opportunities for Asian Americans and their image in the media have certainly gotten better in the past few years, especially on TV. Thanks to Sandra Oh (Grey's Anatomy), Masi Oka (Heroes), Daniel Dae Kim (Lost), and Parminder Nagra (ER), Asians have never been more visible on the tube. But that hasn't necessarily translated into mainstream acceptance for Asian-American theatre.
"It has long been compartmentalized," Muraoka said. "People thought, 'Asian-American theatre -- that's great they have their own theatre, but I might not be interested because it might not be telling my own story.' "
There have been occasional breakthroughs: the plays of David Henry Hwang (M. Butterfly, Yellow Face, currently playing in L.A.), the casting opportunities presented by a big Broadway production such as Miss Saigon. But for the most part, Pena said, "if we keep waiting around to justify some critical mass," then a festival of this ilk "will never happen."
Still, for Asian-American plays and performers to break out, the community must face specific problems. One is its incredible diversity; the festival includes works relating to the Japanese-, Chinese-, Korean-, Cambodian-, Filipino-, Sri Lankan-, and Laotian-American cultures. This tends to splinter the audience, and it raises the question, "How do you break through to a mainstream audience?" said Saxon. "You can't make it too Asian, or other people won't get it. We're always working on that."
Then there's the issue of whether producers are paying attention to new Asian-American works. Pena said they are, but they do it in a somewhat self-serving way: "In many ways, theatres look at this as opportunistic, because of a diversity initiative, or they want to write a grant, or they want to bring in new audiences. But follow through: If you're going to welcome this community, address their needs."
Finally, Asian Americans in the performing arts are interested in what might be called the Sidney Poitier Syndrome: the need for an iconic performer who will lift the acceptance of Asian-American actors and the works they appear in to another level. Right now, the two biggest male stars in the Asian firmament are Jet Li and Jackie Chan, neither of them American. (However, Lucy Liu, born in Queens, is beginning to establish herself as a star.) And all too often, when Asian Americans are cast in highly visible roles, as on Lost and Heroes, they play foreign nationals.
So, Pena said, having an Asian Poitier "is important; it does serve a purpose. If this person has a good understanding of what his position can do for everyone else and uses that effectively, then I'm all for it."
The National Asian American Theater Festival runs June 11-24 at venues across New York City. For more information, go to www.naatf.org. Tickets are available through the website or by calling (212) 352-3101 or (866) 811-4111.