Celebrating AANHPI Month with the Quiet Brilliance of Lulu Wang’s The Farewell
As we mark **AANHPI month**, it’s a perfect time to revisit films that offer unique, heartfelt perspectives on the Asian American, Native Hawaiian, and Pacific Islander experience. Among the essential watches from the last decade, Lulu Wang’s *The Farewell* (2019) stands out as a modern masterpiece. This seemingly small, deeply personal indie film, distributed by the revered A24, resonated with audiences and critics alike, launching Awkwafina into dramatic acclaim and showcasing Wang’s extraordinary talent for blending humor, pathos, and profound cultural observation. Based on a true story from Wang’s own life, the film navigates complex family dynamics with a rare authenticity that feels both specific to its Chinese roots and universally relatable.
At its core, *The Farewell* presents a fascinating ethical dilemma rooted in cultural difference. Billi (Awkwafina), a struggling artist in New York, learns that her beloved Nai Nai (grandmother) in China has been diagnosed with terminal lung cancer. The catch? The family has collectively decided *not* to tell Nai Nai her prognosis. Instead, they stage an elaborate wedding as a pretense for the entire extended family to gather and say their goodbyes without revealing the true, heartbreaking reason for the reunion.
This premise immediately establishes the film’s central tension, primarily filtered through Billi’s Western-influenced perspective. Having grown up largely in the U.S., Billi believes her grandmother has a right to know the truth. She grapples with the immense, collective lie orchestrated by her family, who believe protecting Nai Nai from fear and anxiety is a greater act of love and duty than individual honesty. It’s a clash between American individualism and a collectivist Chinese philosophy centered on the well-being of the family unit, particularly the elder generation. This conflict isn’t presented didactically, but woven into the fabric of everyday interactions, awkward family dinners, and quiet, knowing glances.
The film’s indie story is as compelling as its narrative. Wang herself recounts the struggle to get the film made. Her initial pitch, detailing the true story, was met with confusion and rejection in both Hollywood and China. American producers found the premise “not American enough” – why would a protagonist *not* tell the truth? Chinese producers were wary of the subject matter and the unique cultural perspective. It wasn’t until Wang shared her story on an episode of NPR’s “This American Life” in 2016 that the project gained significant traction, proving that there was indeed an audience eager for this specific, authentic voice. That radio story became the seed that eventually bloomed into the film we see today.
Getting the film financed and made independently allowed Wang to maintain creative control, ensuring the story remained true to her vision and the complexities she wanted to explore. This journey highlights the often arduous path independent filmmakers must take, particularly when their stories don’t fit neatly into established genre boxes or challenge conventional Western narrative expectations. *The Farewell* became a prime example of the power of persistence and the value of unique perspectives in cinema. Its eventual distribution by A24, known for championing distinctive, filmmaker-driven projects, was a perfect fit, helping the film reach a wider audience hungry for something different.
One of the most celebrated aspects of *The Farewell* is its exquisite cinematography, handled by Anna Franquesa-Solano. The film doesn’t rely on flashy visuals but instead employs a quiet, observational style that perfectly complements the story’s emotional depth and the intimacy of family gatherings. The use of composition is particularly noteworthy. Shots often utilize the Rule of Thirds, placing characters slightly off-center, allowing the space around them – the bustling, familiar environments of Nai Nai’s home or the wedding hall – to become characters themselves. This technique subtly emphasizes the idea of the individual within the larger family and cultural context.
Leading lines often draw the viewer’s eye through rooms or down hallways, guiding our attention through the physical spaces where these emotional dramas unfold. Perhaps most effectively, Franquesa-Solano employs negative space not just to balance frames, but to create a feeling of distance or separation, particularly around Billi as she often feels isolated or grappling internally amidst the family unit. The framing frequently captures characters in groups, emphasizing the collective nature of their endeavor, while also allowing moments of individual solitude and reflection to stand out. It’s a masterclass in using visual language to deepen narrative themes without overt exposition. The camera isn’t just recording events; it’s participating in the emotional conversation.
Awkwafina’s performance as Billi was a revelation for many who knew her primarily from comedic roles. She navigates the film’s tricky tonal balance with grace, portraying Billi’s genuine anguish and moral confusion without resorting to melodrama. Her subtle reactions, often expressed through tear-filled eyes or awkward silences, convey the immense weight she feels carrying this secret and witnessing her family’s collective performance. Wang’s decision to cast Awkwafina, and to lean into Billi being somewhat of a “cultural outsider” even within her own family (her less fluent Mandarin being a deliberate choice), further amplifies the film’s exploration of navigating multiple identities and feeling slightly adrift between worlds.
The film is inherently bilingual, with characters seamlessly switching between Mandarin and English. This linguistic authenticity adds another layer of realism, reflecting the lived experience of many immigrant families. Writing a script that flows naturally in two languages while ensuring the emotional beats land requires immense skill, and Wang, working with translators, achieved this beautifully. The dialogue feels natural, sometimes awkward, often poignant, capturing the specific rhythms of a family communicating across generations and cultural divides.
Why is a film like *The Farewell* so important, especially during AANHPI month? Because it provides a nuanced, internally-focused portrayal of a specific Asian experience that moves beyond stereotypes or external narratives. It delves into the universal themes of family, mortality, and love through a distinctly Chinese lens, showing that stories specific in their cultural detail can resonate globally. It validates the complexities of immigrant identities and the unique ways cultural values shape personal decisions and family bonds.
For too long, Asian and Asian American stories in mainstream media were limited in scope or representation. *The Farewell*, along with other films and shows from AANHPI creators, contributes to a richer, more accurate tapestry of experiences. It invites audiences to empathize with a perspective they might not initially understand – the idea that love can manifest as protection through omission rather than confrontation with truth. This kind of cross-cultural empathy building is crucial.
Lulu Wang herself is a fascinating figure in contemporary indie cinema. Her journey from emigrating from China to the US at age six, growing up between cultures, and eventually channeling her family’s story into art is inspiring. Her mother’s own struggles as a writer adjusting to a new country and her father’s path from diplomat to pizza delivery driver highlight the significant sacrifices and reinventions common in immigrant families. Wang’s ability to translate these complex family histories into compelling narrative speaks to her unique voice.
Wang is also married to acclaimed filmmaker Barry Jenkins (*Moonlight*, *If Beale Street Could Talk*), placing her within a dynamic circle of artists pushing the boundaries of independent storytelling. While their styles are distinct, both are celebrated for their deeply humanistic approaches and commitment to authentic, personal narratives. Their relationship highlights a powerful connection within the indie film community.
*The Farewell*’s critical reception was overwhelmingly positive. It garnered significant Oscar buzz, particularly for Awkwafina’s performance and Wang’s screenplay. While it ultimately didn’t receive major Academy Award nominations, Awkwafina won the Golden Globe for Best Actress – Musical or Comedy, a historic first for an actress of Asian descent in that category. The film also performed remarkably well at the box office for an indie release, achieving a strong domestic gross and proving that audience appetite exists for these kinds of stories when they are told with such honesty and artistry. (Source: Box Office Mojo)
As A24 noted in a piece by Wang herself, getting *The Farewell* made and released theatrically was a fight to protect its identity as an “American movie,” despite being primarily in Mandarin and shot in China with an all-Asian cast. (Source: A24 Films Notes) This underscores the evolving definition of American cinema and the necessity for filmmakers to remain steadfast in their unique visions. (Source: The Hollywood Reporter)
In conclusion, revisiting Lulu Wang’s *The Farewell* during AANHPI month is more than just watching a movie; it’s an invitation to experience a specific, deeply felt story that illuminates universal truths about family, culture, and love. It’s a testament to the power of independent filmmaking, the importance of authentic representation, and the quiet brilliance of storytelling that dares to be specific. It’s a beautiful, perfect indie that reminds us why these personal narratives matter. If you haven’t seen it, or if it’s been a while, it’s definitely what to watch next. You can find it streaming on various platforms, offering easy access to this profound and moving cinematic experience.
Want to delve deeper into the craft of another incredible A24 film? Check out our piece on the stunning visuals in *Everything Everywhere All at Once*.