In a similar vein to the highly underrated show Kevin Can F*** Himself, the latest Hulu/Disney+ series Interior Chinatown embodies the stereotypes of television tropes through a shifting visual language. Where Kevin Can F*** Himself took aim at the traditional family sitcom and the marriage dynamics within, Interior Chinatown sets its sights on the police procedural and its derivations. An effective and entertaining direction for the series, it’s unable to make up for a thin central storyline.
Starring Jimmy O. Yang and Ronny Chieng as friends and co-workers at a traditional Chinese restaurant, the series begins with the two in the restaurant’s back alleyway taking out the trash while discussing the excitement that could come out of living out the events in a crime show. Willis (Yang) in particular laments how if they were in a cop show, a dead body would be found at that moment — quietly relishing in the thought.
Of course, this opening sequence sets up the entire show stylistically and narratively. Willis does in fact find himself wrapped up in an investigation after witnessing a crime, working with Detective Lana Lee (Chloe Bennet), a junior ranked officer trying to prove her mettle to the senior detectives on the case, Miles Turner (Sullivan Jones) and Sarah Green (Lisa Gilroy). Woven throughout the various gang-related crimes in an unnamed city’s Chinatown, the disappearance (and presumed death) of Willis’ older brother (Chris Pang) plays a prominent role.
Throughout the first five episodes that critics were given, a couple subplots emerge to bulk out the series, including a particularly sweet one involving Willis’ mother’s (Diana Lin) desire to begin a career as a real estate agent. While these secondary storylines don’t detract from the series, they do emphasize the sparseness of the primary. Perhaps the second-half of the series finds a substantive landing spot, but a lot of work would need to be done to get there.
Undoubtedly the pull of the series comes from the ever-changing aesthetics, from lighting to lens choices. For fans of the procedural (present company included), the detailed approach showrunner Charles Yu employs will be greatly appreciated. When Detectives Turner and Green come onto the screen, a Law & Order rendering takes over; and just as quickly, when Willis gets behind the computer, it’s all CSI vibes.
The choice to dip in and out of these motifs gives Interior Chinatown a bright energy that keeps the show from ever taking itself too seriously. Through these visual changes, there’s an attempt to provide commentary on the space given in those legacy shows to Asian American actors, like a nameless, glasses-wearing, IT guy whose only role is to enhance surveillance footage, for example. While it’s a creative and commendable way to raise these talking points, the actual point being made feels almost outdated to this point.
Over the last 10 years in particular, great strides have been made within the film industry for those of Asian descent, whether it’s the roles afforded to them or the opportunities given behind the camera. This isn’t to say that Hollywood has found its racial equilibrium—we’re still far from that—but the subtle jabs made in Interior Chinatown don’t hit as hard as they would have maybe even five years ago, especially in comparisons to shows like BEEF and Mr. & Mrs. Smith, which spoke volumes without ever really speaking to the subject directly.
As a send up to a genre of television that has endured for decades, Interior Chinatown offers a fun and fanciful streaming option, although viewers’ mileage will vary. It’s not quite style over substance, but it meanders awfully close to that reality.
