Creative Limitations

Lulu Wang, writer and director of The Farewell, on taking her time.

The media’s already polarizing enough; I guess I’m looking for things that are not polarizing and are much more nuanced about the human condition.” —⁠Lulu Wang

One of the highest-rated films of the year, Lulu Wang’s The Farewell stars Awkwafina as Billi, a fictionalized version of Wang herself, in the story of a family in cahoots to keep their matriarch in the dark. The film is based on “a true lie”: Billi’s paternal grandmother in China, Nai Nai (played by veteran Chinese actress Zhao Shuzhen) has cancer, and the family chooses not to let her know, instead staging an elaborate fake wedding to bring the family together.

Where other independent features often develop out of a short film, Wang took her story to This American Life, a bastion of American radio storytelling. The half-hour audio version, ‘Seeing yourself on screen probably doesn’t get better than this.”

When The Farewell opened in US cinemas in July this year, its per-theater box office average topped that of Avengers: Endgame. The film was still showing in select theaters in October, and has just been released on streaming services, including in 4K on iTunes, with a commentary track by Wang and her director of photography, Anna Franquesa Solano. “We tried to talk a lot about process, so I think that’ll be interesting,” Wang told us. (Also, “we may or may not have been drinking”.)

In time for its streaming release, we chatted with Lulu Wang about aspects of The Farewell’s production, the useful limitations of independent filmmaking, and her favorite films, from holiday movies to best soundtracks.

Please beware: interview contains plot spoilers.

Lulu Wang and DP Anna Franquesa Solano on the set of The Farewell. — Photographer… Casi Moss
Lulu Wang and DP Anna Franquesa Solano on the set of The Farewell. Photographer… Casi Moss

The Farewell is standing strong in our highest rated films of 2019, and the reviews are responding to exactly the things, I imagine, that were important to you: the non-manufactured stakes, the family realness, a sense of the specific being universal, the process of grief beginning long before a person you love dies. How does it feel that your film is being so well received?
Lulu Wang: I fought really hard to tell the story in such a specific way that in some ways I think my biggest fear was that the specificity would put us into a niche, and only attract a very niche audience. So, you know, the fact that there’s so many people—Asian-Americans but also non-Asian Americans—who see themselves and their family in the story is incredible to me.

You often mention the films of Yi-Yi [directed by] Edward Yang is one of my all-time favorites. The specificity, the tenderness of it. The patience of the filmmaking. I find Yi-Yi to be that. Also the humor, there’s so much charm and so much humor in it, it feels just so real.

Kore-eda’s films speak to me in that same way. I just really appreciate the patience in filmmaking. I think so often nowadays the flashiest things get the most attention, and we’ve also trained our brains to need that, right? That kind of stimulation. And so there’s something just so beautiful about a film that takes its time and that doesn’t lean on easy tricks to get attention, but that takes time to get to the heart of something very nuanced, that isn’t so obvious, that isn’t so black and white. The media’s already polarizing enough; I guess I’m looking for things that are not polarizing and are much more nuanced about the human condition.

Through The Farewell’s run, you’ve been generous about opening up the filmmaking process—Secrets and Lies, when he takes the portrait, and the falseness of what we present when we take portraits like that in the studio, right?

Nai Nai (Zhao Shuzhen) observes yet another wedding portrait set-up in The Farewell.
Nai Nai (Zhao Shuzhen) observes yet another wedding portrait set-up in The Farewell.

One of the intentions, going through it, was minimising the dialogue and trying to condense the script, and so that made me say, “Okay, what are all these moments doing?” They’re all trying to do the same thing, which is to establish the relationship between Billi and Nai Nai, so condensing it into one sequence makes sense. And then also because so much of it is dialogue-driven, how do we make this cinematic? Because at one point the wedding photography studio was separate from these conversations between Billi and Nai Nai, you know, and so this is where, in some ways, being forced to have limitations, being forced to make a shorter film, you start to think more about layering and how do you do multiple things at once.

I really appreciate the limitations of independent filmmaking. Not always; when I’m on set and I get the budget I’m complaining! But looking back on it, those limitations are how we came up with many of our visual ideas. And then also of course it was influenced by the location itself, because we were scouting wedding studios and I wasn’t aware that these studios were so large, that they have, like, different spaces built into the same building. Because if you look at a western photo studio, like in Mike Leigh, right, it’s always the same backdrop.

So that sequence was inspired because we went location scouting, and we were like “this is ridiculous! There are ten different rooms and they all have different set ups!” So then we had this idea of them basically just wandering through the whole photography studio and we’d pick four of our favorite set-ups.

And then this idea of them being silhouetted was inspired by [Woody Allen’s 1979 film] Manhattan. I wanted to capture their relationship as a romance, and I was thinking about Manhattan and their silhouette—I think they were in a planetarium—so we came up with this idea of a continuous conversation, but that was spaced out in front of different backdrops.

Woody Allen and Diane Keaton in a scene from Manhattan (1979).
Woody Allen and Diane Keaton in a scene from Manhattan (1979).

That sequence helps us learn more about who Nai Nai was before the events in The Farewell take place. At Letterboxd, we’re often compiling top ten lists, but “best grandmothers on film” is not a highly populated category, especially films where grandmas are more than just ‘kindly’. Tell us more about fleshing out Nai Nai’s life and the importance of giving respect to older female characters.
I think about that in life, too, you know. We think about a lot of people in our lives as fulfilling a particular role in relation to ourselves. That’s my mother, that’s my grandmother, that’s my teacher. as a kid you don’t even think your teacher goes to the grocery store! They hide in the back of the class and then pop back up in the morning! So as a filmmaker, as a storyteller, I’m always thinking about who they are, separate from the context of their relationship to you.

That’s also part of the sadness of not being with somebody or of losing somebody is you don’t necessarily get to see them in all those different contexts and then when they’re gone, there’s so much you don’t know about them and may never know about them. And as our parents get older, your relationships to your relatives change, you know, like ‘who’s the parent?’—children often have to become the caretaker. That’s where it came from, was wanting to make sure that Nai Nai was not presented as a stereotypical grandmother. That she felt like a three-dimensional woman, a woman who was once a girl, and a young woman, someone who was once in love, or maybe in a relationship out of convenience. And also that she’s not always sweet. That’s very real.

One of the motifs in The Farewell is birds appearing at significant moments. In many cultures, a bird is a portent of something big, for example, a death in the family. Where did your bird come from?
The bird for me came from wanting to put [in] something magical, but not, like, literal, you know? Meaning, I wanted to insinuate spirituality and magic, but I wanted it also to be interactive with the audience, so based on what they believe and how they interpret that bird is the meaning they get out of it, without me saying “this is what it means”. Much of the movie is about belief systems and perspectives, so I think that if you believe the bird means something, then it does. But if you don’t, and you’re a much more literal, scientific person and you go, “Oh it’s just a bird, it’s just a coincidence,” then it doesn’t mean anything.

Awkwafina leans on Zhao Shuzhen’s shoulder during filming. — Photographer… Casi Moss
Awkwafina leans on Zhao Shuzhen’s shoulder during filming. Photographer… Casi Moss

That’s how it is in the movie and that’s how it is in life: what you believe, and where you find meaning, becomes your reality. With Nai Nai outliving her diagnosis, the people who believe the lie is what worked will continue to believe that the lie is what worked, and people who believe that prayer is what worked… In a way, we look for signs to validate the things we believe, because it’s how we get through life! We need signs, we need meaning, even if we’re the ones who are attaching that meaning.

This far down the track, what is your fondest memory of the production period?
Oh gosh, so much of it. I think just being in China, being in spaces that were in my real life, with a crew. Any time that that happened it was really emotional, like shooting in my grandmother’s neighborhood. Shooting at my grandfather’s real grave. I hadn’t seen my grandfather since I left China when I was six, because he died a few years later. To now be at his grave site, gathered there with producers and the crew, scouting it and then shooting there, you know, it was an integration of two different parts of my life that I always felt were really separate, which was my family and China and my background and culture, and then the other part of me, which is being an American, being a filmmaker in America.

In many ways, I always felt that my family didn’t understand what I wanted to do, and also I couldn’t bring who I actually was into Hollywood, there wasn’t a space for that. With this film I was able to fully integrate, bringing my American producers to China for the first time, having my grandmother come to set and see me directing with all the lights and camera and crew. Having my parents be part of the table read. It just felt, really, like I was creating from a place that felt true and real and grounded to me.

Awkwafina and Zhao Shuzhen in a scene from The Farewell.
Awkwafina and Zhao Shuzhen in a scene from The Farewell.

Speaking of being grounded, what’s your go-to comfort film? The one you’ll always throw on on a rainy day?
Oh, I know: The Philadelphia Story. I love that story.

What’s the film you’ve probably seen the most?
The Sound of Music.

Favorite song from it?
Probably ‘Edelweiss’, honestly. I’ve been watching that film since I was a kid, it’s one of my parents’ favorite films. It’s such a family film for us, and every time the father sings ‘Edelweiss’ to all the kids, I get really emotional.

What’s the film—or films—that made you want to become a filmmaker?
The Piano. I think, with both The Piano and Secretary, it was the exploration of female desire and female voice—and obviously as a trained classical pianist since the age of four, the symbol of the piano for her, for that character, and for me, was really meaningful.

Jane Campion’s The Piano (1993).
Jane Campion’s The Piano (1993).

Alex Weston’s soundtrack for The Farewell, Moonlight, and so yeah, thinking about In the Mood for Love reminded me that Nick Britell’s If Beale Street Could Talk soundtrack is just incredible.

Holiday season is fast approaching: what’s your favorite holiday/Christmas film?
Jingle All the Way. For years, we watched Jingle All the Way and just laughed our heads off.

Finally, how is Children of the New World coming along?
Very slowly. I’m working on the script. I’m writing it. It’s gonna take a while, probably after all of the press is done so I can fully focus.


The Farewell’ is available on streaming services now. Comments have been edited for clarity and length. With thanks to A24.

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