jen*
01-29-2003, 03:56 PM
(Source: AsianWeek.com: A&E)
Backstage with Gedde Watanabe
Photo by Ji Hyun Lim.
By Ji Hyun Lim
Visions of awkward teens in braces, rolling eyes, and hyper-dramatic attitude abound in John Hughes’ coming-of-age cult film Sixteen Candles. Ahh, the 1980s and those painful images of adolescence are hard to shake off even now. Gedde Watanabe has a distinct set of scars from his role in the film. Watanabe is still identified and iconized as Long Duk Dong, the bowl-haired, accent-ridden foreign exchange student who stays with Sam’s family. There’s even a Web site for this caricature. “It’s very funny. It’s flattering,” Watanabe laughs.
It wasn’t always ha-ha-ha; when the movie first came out in 1984, Watanabe performance was scrutinized by the Asian American community and criticized for perpetuating stereotypes of Asians at a time when American hostility toward Japan was augmented by trade wars.
Nowadays, Watanabe is not as concerned with being “politically correct” as being aware of the stereotypes that he has been accused of portraying in the past. “At this point in my career, he’s [Dong] annoying,” says Watanabe. He declares with dry humor that the character’s motivation is “the American Dream. That’s the bottom line.”
Photo by Ji Hyun Lim.
Backstage at the musical, A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum sponsored by the East West Players, an Asian American Theater company in Los Angeles, AsianWeek finds the actor devouring his grilled salmon, rice and miso soup. Framed by a montage of props and strolling actors, Watanabe speaks about his singing and acting stints.
Although Watanabe is most recognizable to mainstream American as Dong, this 46-year old actor has mingled on Broadway, in movies, T.V. and voice-overs. He has a recurring role as Yosh Takata in ER, has performed in plays like Ikebana, was the voice for Ling in Mulan, and played a variety of small parts on hit sitcoms such as Seinfeld and Murphy Brown.
The wiry, boyish-looking actor carries off such performances so memorably that audiences often forget that his role is, well, merely a role.
Watanabe says that his foreign accents are contrived — he speaks no Japanese, and his only exposure to Asian accents is that of his older relatives. As a “very serious, sensitive, and isolated child” who grew up in Ogden, Utah, he believes his need for expression had to do with being a minority in his hometown.
“It’s the most extraordinary and saddest thing, the amount of talent out there not being seen.” He says apologetically. “Look at television and how comparatively few minorities are out there. I understood that very deeply.”
Although acting was an escape from a chaotic household and his fighting parents when he was young, it had more than a cathartic effect on him — it instilled a desire to reach a greater audience. “I just love the idea that you have a group of people and there’s a dire need to have them on your side to communicate for the evening. There’s something in the moment when you can make them laugh or cry and show and incredibly compassionate side of life. I find that a really exemplary way to live.”
Watanabe is a die-hard optimist. Like many actors, he had humble beginnings; he recalls his career as a street singer in San Francisco with warmth and nostalgia. He sang soulful Bob Dylan folk songs, aspired to be in a rock-and-roll band and sought refuge in the bohemian coffeehouses of Union Square. For his one-man street gigs, Watanabe’s chosen spot was in Chinatown at the pillars of the Golden Dragon Pavillion. His performances were so un-applaudible that restaurant workers and cooks threw bok-choy at him. Undaunted, he’d take the dirt-covered vegetables home, sauté them with soy sauce and eat them.
“Back in the 60s, San Francisco artists lived in communes. Between [my] two flat-mates [and myself], the cost of living was a nominal $60.00 each with food stamps. We had the best life in the world. It was San Francisco at its best,” Watanabe gloats with a slight grin in his face.
When he wasn’t crooning, Watanabe attended the American Conservatory Theatre in San Francisco. He eventually moved to New York and took to street singing again, pulling in up to $300.00 during the weekends — tax-free. “The silly creativity,” as he calls it, lasted for 13-14 years before he flirted with the idea of moving to Los Angeles. After visiting a palmist/astrologist, he secured his decision to tackle the L.A. scene. His astrologist predicted that there would be television and films on the horizon. Twenty years later, dozens of credits to his name, Watanabe still feels that he should continue to “put himself out there” and perhaps direct in the future.
Watanabe is now vigorously applying stage make-up and singing the opening song, “Something for everyone, comedy tonight…” His alto voice reverberates throughout the back of the stage.
He plays the lead, as a wily slave named Pseudolus in A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum. Watanabe co-stars with fellow Asian American actors who ham it up in the burlesque-styled humor.
Fellow actor Rodney Kageyama says, “Mr. Crazy Watanabe? He’s wonderful. We don’t take any crap from him,” he jokes. “He’s very professional and self-sacrificing.”
Watanabe interjects, “Sounds like I’m Jewish.”
Kageyama continues, “Stereotypes? We’re all stereotypes – every minute of the day, whatever we eat, do, think, read. We take roles and we make it as truthful as we can. [Asian American] actors are putting themselves out there,” Kageyama says.
Watanabe, though busy getting ready for the evening performance has one last word of advice for younger actors. “Be prepared to starve,” he boisterously laughs. Then, he takes on a brotherly tone, “always have another job.” He laughs again, and finally says in a serious manner, “persevere.”
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A Funny Thing ran through March at the David Henry Hwang Theater in L.A. Watanabe is currently developing a new project in television.
Backstage with Gedde Watanabe
Photo by Ji Hyun Lim.
By Ji Hyun Lim
Visions of awkward teens in braces, rolling eyes, and hyper-dramatic attitude abound in John Hughes’ coming-of-age cult film Sixteen Candles. Ahh, the 1980s and those painful images of adolescence are hard to shake off even now. Gedde Watanabe has a distinct set of scars from his role in the film. Watanabe is still identified and iconized as Long Duk Dong, the bowl-haired, accent-ridden foreign exchange student who stays with Sam’s family. There’s even a Web site for this caricature. “It’s very funny. It’s flattering,” Watanabe laughs.
It wasn’t always ha-ha-ha; when the movie first came out in 1984, Watanabe performance was scrutinized by the Asian American community and criticized for perpetuating stereotypes of Asians at a time when American hostility toward Japan was augmented by trade wars.
Nowadays, Watanabe is not as concerned with being “politically correct” as being aware of the stereotypes that he has been accused of portraying in the past. “At this point in my career, he’s [Dong] annoying,” says Watanabe. He declares with dry humor that the character’s motivation is “the American Dream. That’s the bottom line.”
Photo by Ji Hyun Lim.
Backstage at the musical, A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum sponsored by the East West Players, an Asian American Theater company in Los Angeles, AsianWeek finds the actor devouring his grilled salmon, rice and miso soup. Framed by a montage of props and strolling actors, Watanabe speaks about his singing and acting stints.
Although Watanabe is most recognizable to mainstream American as Dong, this 46-year old actor has mingled on Broadway, in movies, T.V. and voice-overs. He has a recurring role as Yosh Takata in ER, has performed in plays like Ikebana, was the voice for Ling in Mulan, and played a variety of small parts on hit sitcoms such as Seinfeld and Murphy Brown.
The wiry, boyish-looking actor carries off such performances so memorably that audiences often forget that his role is, well, merely a role.
Watanabe says that his foreign accents are contrived — he speaks no Japanese, and his only exposure to Asian accents is that of his older relatives. As a “very serious, sensitive, and isolated child” who grew up in Ogden, Utah, he believes his need for expression had to do with being a minority in his hometown.
“It’s the most extraordinary and saddest thing, the amount of talent out there not being seen.” He says apologetically. “Look at television and how comparatively few minorities are out there. I understood that very deeply.”
Although acting was an escape from a chaotic household and his fighting parents when he was young, it had more than a cathartic effect on him — it instilled a desire to reach a greater audience. “I just love the idea that you have a group of people and there’s a dire need to have them on your side to communicate for the evening. There’s something in the moment when you can make them laugh or cry and show and incredibly compassionate side of life. I find that a really exemplary way to live.”
Watanabe is a die-hard optimist. Like many actors, he had humble beginnings; he recalls his career as a street singer in San Francisco with warmth and nostalgia. He sang soulful Bob Dylan folk songs, aspired to be in a rock-and-roll band and sought refuge in the bohemian coffeehouses of Union Square. For his one-man street gigs, Watanabe’s chosen spot was in Chinatown at the pillars of the Golden Dragon Pavillion. His performances were so un-applaudible that restaurant workers and cooks threw bok-choy at him. Undaunted, he’d take the dirt-covered vegetables home, sauté them with soy sauce and eat them.
“Back in the 60s, San Francisco artists lived in communes. Between [my] two flat-mates [and myself], the cost of living was a nominal $60.00 each with food stamps. We had the best life in the world. It was San Francisco at its best,” Watanabe gloats with a slight grin in his face.
When he wasn’t crooning, Watanabe attended the American Conservatory Theatre in San Francisco. He eventually moved to New York and took to street singing again, pulling in up to $300.00 during the weekends — tax-free. “The silly creativity,” as he calls it, lasted for 13-14 years before he flirted with the idea of moving to Los Angeles. After visiting a palmist/astrologist, he secured his decision to tackle the L.A. scene. His astrologist predicted that there would be television and films on the horizon. Twenty years later, dozens of credits to his name, Watanabe still feels that he should continue to “put himself out there” and perhaps direct in the future.
Watanabe is now vigorously applying stage make-up and singing the opening song, “Something for everyone, comedy tonight…” His alto voice reverberates throughout the back of the stage.
He plays the lead, as a wily slave named Pseudolus in A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum. Watanabe co-stars with fellow Asian American actors who ham it up in the burlesque-styled humor.
Fellow actor Rodney Kageyama says, “Mr. Crazy Watanabe? He’s wonderful. We don’t take any crap from him,” he jokes. “He’s very professional and self-sacrificing.”
Watanabe interjects, “Sounds like I’m Jewish.”
Kageyama continues, “Stereotypes? We’re all stereotypes – every minute of the day, whatever we eat, do, think, read. We take roles and we make it as truthful as we can. [Asian American] actors are putting themselves out there,” Kageyama says.
Watanabe, though busy getting ready for the evening performance has one last word of advice for younger actors. “Be prepared to starve,” he boisterously laughs. Then, he takes on a brotherly tone, “always have another job.” He laughs again, and finally says in a serious manner, “persevere.”
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A Funny Thing ran through March at the David Henry Hwang Theater in L.A. Watanabe is currently developing a new project in television.