L
et’s get down to business, to de-
feat the Huns!”
I will always remember those
summer nights I spent sprawled on my
grandparents’ living room couch in China,
as I passionately sang along to “I’ll Make a
Man Out of You” from the animated mov-
ie “Mulan.” Based on an ancient Chinese
ballad, Disney’s cartoon “Mulan” told the
story of a young girl who disguised her-
self as a man and enlisted in the army in
the place of her father. She was constantly
picked on in the beginning by other fellow
soldiers due to her physical weaknesses,
but she eventually proved herself with her
determination and saved China from the
Huns.
Though I was only four at the time, in
the early 2000s, I was fascinated by Mu-
lan’s courage and amused by her clumsy
yet witty charm. I always laughed uncon-
trollably when Mulan spilled a pot of hot
tea on her matchmaker’s face and had
my eyes glued to the TV screen when she
saved Shang (her love interest) from the
avalanche during a battle with the Huns.
As a little Chinese girl, it was refreshing
for me to see a heroine who shared my
skin color in a Disney film and inspiring
to see my own culture being represented
in such a positive light. She was the first
Disney princess that I could relate to and
look up to.
Therefore, when Disney announced
that Liu Yifei had been cast to portray
my favorite Disney princess in 2017, I was
beyond excited. I was also relieved that
this role would be represented by a native
Chinese actress and celebrated Disney’s
choice for diversity. Ever since, I close-
ly followed the production timeline and
made plans to see it with my friends upon
its release. When I went to see “Little
Women” at my local theatre last Decem-
ber, I saw the “Mulan” trailer play on the
big screen. I shed a few tears as I watched
Yifei fighting fiercely on the battlefield
while the orchestral version of “Reflec-
tion” played in the background. I was
so thrilled to see my childhood heroine
being represented authentically and the
film’s potential to make Asian American
cinematic history.
Yet, as I settled in to watch the remake,
I felt skepticism creeping up even from
the opening scenes. I raised my eyebrows
at the sight of a hakka tulou — which is
a form of architecture unique to south-
eastern China — as Mulan’s home, which
is known to be located in northern Chi-
na. I cringed again when Mulan’s father
said to her: “Chi is for warriors, not for
daughters.” Originated from Taoism, Chi
is a vital energy that everyone is born with
regardless of gender. I was also confused
when writers used “abundance of chi” to
describe the witch as powerful, because
one does not gain power by merely having
chi but rather through their cultivation of
it.
As the film went on, I became increas-
ingly angered by the obvious neglect the
production crew showed for Chinese cul-
tural references key to the central plot.
The film showed the Chinese character
for filial piety, an ancient Confucian “vir-
tue,” engraved on two objects: on the “am-
ulet” (with an oriental design that did not
resemble anything real Chinese people
would carry) that belongs to Mulan’s fa-
ther and on the sword that was gifted to
Mulan by the emperor. The writers clearly
dismissed the fact that in Chinese culture,
filial piety means more than “devotion to
family,” as it is criticized by contemporary
feminists for its implications of blind obe-
dience and submission to elders. It is true
that Mulan is no modern tale, but the val-
ues that she fights for in the film are di-
rectly contradicted by the outdated notion
of filial piety that Disney writers inadver-
tently imposed on her.
While I was infuriated by Disney’s lack
of effort in historical fact-checking, I was
disappointed the most by Mulan’s “flaw-
lessness” as a character. In the original
movie, she is an ordinary girl who knows
nothing about fighting, but through her
perseverance and grit, she becomes a true
warrior. In the remake, however, Mulan
serves as a “Chinese Elsa” whose super-
powers are rejected by society because
they do not conform to social expectations
of women. While such reinvention of the
folklore establishes a feminist premise for
Mulan’s story, it rejects further possibili-
ties for her growth. What is the point of
her story if she already fights better than
all the men?
This new portrayal of Mulan feels for-
eign to me, as I was unable to connect
with her innate power and lack of vulner-
abilities. My favourite Disney princess
used to be Mulan, not because she was an
all-powerful warrior, but the fact that she
felt like one of “us.” She was just an ordi-
nary girl who was both scared and excited
about the world, who simply wanted to be
understood, and then left alone. The way
she clumsily finds herself through hard-
ships and betrayals was inspiring because
it gave me hope that I could do it too.
By drastically changing the story and
Mulan’s motives without any explanation
or foundation behind it, her character is
denied agency and becomes an Asian fan-
tasy with no real identity. In the remake,
Mulan becomes General Tso’s Chicken —
an essentially American dish with some
Chinese sesame drizzled on top. With the
new film, I lost a childhood heroine whom
I most identified with, and a generation of
Asian American girls have been misrepre-
sented by an orientalist puppet for Holly-
wood white feminism.
Prior to “Mulan,” the only all-Asian-
cast Hollywood film that had entered
the mainstream was “Crazy Rich Asians.”
Though the film was a huge milestone
in cinematic history and inspired more
Asian faces to be represented on screen,
I was unable to form a real cultural con-
nection to the characters and storytelling.
Yes, the film included many Asian cultural
references such as families making dump-
lings together and playing mahjong, but it
failed to explore many themes key to the
Asian American identity, such as the no-
tion of the model minority and internal-
ized racism. Rather, “Crazy Rich Asians”
focused mainly on class anxieties, which
was a theme universal and therefore more
digestible for Western audiences. While
class remains an important topic to ad-
dress, omitting themes and issues relevant
to Asian American culture and identity is
damaging to the integrity of such repre-
sentation.
Neither the “Mulan” remake nor “Cra-
zy Rich Asians” went deep enough to cre-
ate nuanced characters — they simply cast
Asian actors and chose filming locations
in Asia, as if that were enough. Niki Caro,
the director of the “Mulan” remake, ex-
pressed, “It was incredibly important to
us that the people in our film were au-
thentically the ethnicities they needed to
be for the storytelling.” However, these
principles of authenticity were obviously
dismissed behind the scenes, as the script
was co-written by four white writers and
no Chinese experts were consulted for its
historical or cultural accuracy.
What does this mean? Must Asians be
Westernized in order to enter mainstream
American culture? I think the answer is
no. I still remember my excitement and
pride when I heard BTS, a K-pop group,
play in my local department store in To-
ronto. I still think about when the Acade-
my Award–winning movie “Parasite” was
all people talked about; I would hear con-
versation about it while walking down
State Street or while sitting in the East
Quad dining hall or in the moments be-
fore class time. Both BTS and “Parasite”
have reached huge cultural and commer-
cial successes in the United States, yet
neither creators compromised their art
to cater to Americans: BTS stated that
they will not produce English albums and
Bong Joon-ho, the director of “Parasite,”
didn’t cut out a single Korean cultural
reference when the film premiered in
the U.S. Through sheer genius and hard
work, the two were able to overcome cul-
tural barriers and accumulate global sup-
port, forcing diversity into America’s in-
sular entertainment industry.
Disney’s failure with “Mulan” sends
a clear message to Hollywood that the
Asian American experience is not an easy
tale to tell. It will require more than $200
million in budgets and four white screen-
writers. It demands the stories to reflect
our anxieties and fears, our disconnect
from the mainstream and our linkage to
our homeland. The failure of the Mulan
remake shows that the Asian American
experience can never be represented by
those who don’t share our identity, and
that true representation is not only re-
flected in the cast but also through Asian
writers, directors and producers, and a
deep understanding of how to honestly
portray our past and stories. So perhaps
one day, our reflection on the big screen
will show who we are inside.
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
14 — Wednesday, September 16, 2020
statement
Disney’s Mulan
remake: General
Tso’s Chicken
BY LOLA YANG, STATEMENT CORRESPONDENT
ILLUSTRATION BY EILEEN KELLY