Everything Everywhere All At Once: Except for Awards Season
Everything Everywhere All At Once is a film about many things, as the title suggests. At its core, the film is about recognition. Recognition of our place in the universe, of our potential, of each other, of (our) humanity, and above all– the need for love and kindness.
In that vein, it’s important to recognize my own connection to the film before I discuss it further. I hadn’t rushed to watch Everything Everywhere All At Once. I’m not an avid movie-goer (though I attribute that to a family tendency to only watch Bollywood movies) and in all honesty, I was cautious. The “multiverse” as a concept felt difficult to execute in a meaningful way, and between all the buzz and my own friends’ excited reviews, I was worried that my rising expectations would make the movie fall flat– even with a stellar star like Michelle Yeoh. There was also something anticipatory in watching a movie so momentous for Asian-American representation– for Asian-American women, for queer Asian-American women especially. If it failed, it would be far more than a loss of artistry. As it turns out, I had nothing to worry about. By the time the final scene rolled, I was sobbing, comforted by my queer Asian friends who nodded knowingly and handed me tissues.
I had never felt more recognized by a film, never more seen, never more hurt or healed in the same breath. I wondered how other people thought of the move, people who couldn’t possibly by virtue of their life experiences and backgrounds resonate with the film I so painfully felt in my very core. Especially as a queer Asian woman, it felt like the most intimate parts of my life and character reverbated on the screen. Of course, the beauty of the film is that everyone, everywhere, can connect to something. You laugh, you cry, you ponder the nature of your existence, and you hug your friends a little tighter at the end. And maybe you call your mom later that night, even if she doesn’t really understand why you’re telling you love her in the way that you are. I know I did.
And so, for a movie that recognized me deeply and I believe I recognized for what it was truly doing, I wondered how it would be recognized during awards season. The answer is, of course, spectacularly. It seemed to win, well- everything, everywhere, all at once. The film boasts 354 won awards with 337 nominations and counting. Several of these wins for Everything Everywhere All At Once (EEAO) were historic- at the Oscars, Michelle Yeoh became the first Asian woman to win Best Actress. Ke Huy Quan was the first Vietnamese-American to win an Oscar for acting. I celebrated these awards with my friends and peers excitedly and gleefully, ignoring the small number of disapproving reviews of EEAO or even of the Academy Award Best Picture win itself left in the wake of such triumphs.
After the buzz subsided, however, I couldn’t help but feel a growing pit in my stomach. Not because of any criticism (though it certainly existed), but the qualified approval EEAO had gotten. Staring at the pictures of the cast all touting an Oscar except for Stephanie Hsu, arguably the driving force of the film alongside Michelle Yeoh, felt like a distorted image, a cruel joke. There is no doubt in my mind that Jamie Lee Curtis deserves an Oscar- just like there is no doubt in my mind that this is not the film she should have won one for. In a film about so much, but especially about family and the relationship between mother and daughter- how can you not reward the character(s) who serve as the very catalyst for the journey the movie goes on? The journey the main character goes on? Isn’t that what the supporting actress award is about?
That pit deepened as I watched Ke Huy Quan’s Supporting Actor acceptance speech. After tearfully acknowledging his mother (a moment that made me smile), he continued to say that “My journey started on a boat. I spent a year in a refugee camp. And somehow, I ended up here on Hollywood’s biggest stage…This, this is the American Dream!” A sentiment with thunderous applause and cheering from the Oscars audience, while I sat in quiet disbelief. It feels hard to even express what I’m about to– ungrateful, pessimistic, dismissive. But that’s also why I need to. Because oftentimes Asian -Americans- award winners or not - are told to be grateful for breadcrumbs won through blood.
Ke Huy Quan got his start in Hollywood as a child actor. Despite his talent and playing iconic roles in the Indian Jones franchise as well as the movie Goonies, his acting career was cut short. Over the pandemic, he revealed in an interview with James Corden that he lost his health insurance because with the exception of EEAO, he could find no acting gigs. He was discarded and pushed out by an industry that treats people as disposable (especially if they’re already on the margins societally), just like he was discarded in a refugee camp. A refugee camp he had to occupy because his family was escaping the Vietnam War. It cannot be understated that what they were fleeing was a war heightened by imperialistic and violent intervention by the United States, a war started and complicated by the United States’ politics and the Cold War in the first place. Only now is Ke Huy Quan getting recognition again after playing a role in a film where his role cannot be forgotten or dismissed. How can that be the American dream?
Quan’s experience echoes that of so many Asian-Amerians– only awarded when they cannot be dismissed or discarded any longer because they are so exceptional they are undeniable. When we do get awards, it’s often celebrated as the American dream, a sign that anything is possible. That Asian-Americans, along with other minority/marginalized actors, just need to keep it at it. What “it” is, is never truly defined. Exceptionalism is not true equity or inclusion. When Jamie Lee Curtis, a veteran actress from a lineage of actors (who arguably was kept from Oscar nods and wins simply for Academy elitism over genre), wins over Stephanie Hsu– we see in real time how white mediocrity prevails over Asian-American excellence.
The Oscars faltered in other “breakthroughs” and “historical firsts” as well. RRR won best original song for “Nattu Nattu”. I was happy and proud to see a Tollywood movie to finally be included in the Oscars, giving us mainstream South Asian representation that isn’t Slumdog Millionaire (a film that personally I feel feeds into Western stereotypes about poverty in India and fetishizes said poverty through the spectacle it turns into). South Asian movies have a rich history and culture of music, and while I feel there have been ones already out there deserving of a best song nod if not win, it felt important that “Nattu Nattu” was not only a Telugu song but one that made colonizers the butt of the joke. Colonialism, race, appropriation, and elitism are all in play at the message of the song, and indeed the film itself.
Imagine my surprise then, when the dancers for the Oscars performance were not South Asian. The original actors/dancers were not available, and the production team cites this as the reason for the glaring absence of the vital representation. If we could have South Asian dancers for the 2009 performance of ‘Jai Ho’, how is it that 14 years later we’ve regressed? South Asian-ness is vital to the song, to the dance, to the film- to behave as if it’s an item on a checklist that production can forego is egregious. South Asian-American dancers also abound, so it seems insufficient to say that the team simply went with who they worked with the most. Instead, that raises other questions about how South-Asian American dancers are clamoring to be seen and to perform, and like Ke Huy Quan being discarded at the earliest convenience or outright ignored instead.
So what does all of this mean? It’s important to remember, that for all of the historical breakthroughs, what the Oscars- and indeed other award institutions- are sorely lacking. What historically they have lacked. On Jan. 14, 2016, all 20 Oscar nominations in the acting categories went to white performers for the second year in a row. In 2020, the acting nominations only included one person of color- Cynthia Erivo for her portrayal of Harriet Tubman in Hariet, affirming a long-standing trend of Black actors only winning for playing enslaved characters or evoking racist tropes in their performances. This year, despite the fact that her film was nominated for best picture, Sarah Polley was left out of directing nominations. In fact, no women were nominated this year, despite a historic number of films this year and last directed by women. Last year, Jane Campion won the oscar for directing. And despite Oscar wins, women of color often face difficulty securing another role. In 1962, despite her Oscar win for Westside Story, Rita Moreno still faced discrimination heavily in Hollywood and only received stereotypical roles.
That is a looming reality for many women of color as Oscar winners– the win is no indication of systemic change, and despite the “honor”, many struggle to find work and roles and even recognition by the Academy. Halle Berry is to date the only Black actress to win an Oscar for Best Actress (in 2001!) and while has been back to the Oscars several times, has never been back as a nominee– a painful reminder an Oscar win doesn’t change anything for actresses of color who are already liable to get fewer scripts and opportunities. And indeed, when they do, they are relegated to sidekicks and side roles. Michelle Yeoh is a powerhouse actress, but the films she often acts in are not her films. She may steal the show, but she is never billed as No.1– too often treated as an addition rather than the main event.
The Academy and the Oscars are great, and can be amazing opportunities to showcase and highlight the performances and movies of amazing directors and actors. But ultimately the awards themselves ring empty. The Oscars fail, again and again, to show any real systemic change. An individual win, a push of the boundary, means nothing, if it can never happen again. An event does not disrupt a history of oppression and suppression.
Asian-American artists are doing great things in the film industry. But so long as we look to racist, sexist, and overall bigoted institutions like the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences that prioritize putting on a show rather than true diversity, equity, and inclusion, all we are doing is prioritizing assimilation and palatability over our own accomplishments and acceptance.
Alternative awards shows like the Black Entertainment Television Awards have existed as a means of celebrating communities' artists via the actual collective culture they come from. Until we celebrate ourselves, we will never truly radically change anything. I love this movie and I’m happy for the Oscar wins, but this has to be the start of something. If we continue this path of seeking validation from those who do not truly see our value, we will only have historical breakthroughs, one year at a time - when really our artistic strides should be everything, everywhere, all at once.
