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Reporting from Beijing—
The parts suggest the varied ways foreigners loom in the collective Chinese consciousness. Sometimes, the on-screen foreigner is a stroke of characterization. Kos-Read calls this figure "the symbol."
"The main Chinese guy is an international player, but how do you show it? He has to have a foreign friend," Kos-Read explains. "Or, even better, a foreign assistant."
Then there's the subtle school of character dubbed "the cipher": the foreign visitor who extols one of his homeland's own alleged virtues ("In America, we stick together!") with the aim of indirectly nudging at attributes China might wish to adopt, as the screenwriter sees it.
The historical "villain" is, almost invariably, British or French. These figures crop up in period dramas. The American, Kos-Read insists, is rarely depicted as an evil being.
But there is "the fool," explained thus by Kos-Read: "I come to China disdainful. I don't get it. My character is like, 'China sucks, man.' But through my encounter with amazing China, my opinion changes. The white guy realizes how amazing China is."
And then, finally, the role that's been falling to him now more and more frequently in recent years: the "real guy." "The guy who's a person before he's a foreigner, with motivations beyond being a foreigner," he said.
When Kos-Read started acting in China, he says, screenwriters fell back on stereotypes to depict people from overseas. But the rapid influx of foreign workers and the growing sophistication of the film and television industry means that now most writers have had regular interactions with foreigners and are more apt to portray them with nuance and textured motivations, Kos-Read says.
"There's the Uncle Tom question," he acknowledges. "How do I deal with playing bad guys in Chinese shows?"
The answer, he insists, is that he doesn't take "crazy, ridiculous, evil foreigner" roles. Moreover, he argues that such roles are vanishing. "There was a lot of that before, and a lot less now."
Kos-Read is comfortable here, and has no immediate plans to return to the United States. His income has grown as his profile has risen, and as Chinese film and television budgets have grown more generous. His wife is Chinese, and they have a daughter.
By the way, he adds, American filmmakers are hardly immune to the ills of stereotyping. "They make the same mistake. They treat Chinese characters as culturally driven automatons," he says. "It's disheartening."
megan.stack@latimes.com
"The main Chinese guy is an international player, but how do you show it? He has to have a foreign friend," Kos-Read explains. "Or, even better, a foreign assistant."
The historical "villain" is, almost invariably, British or French. These figures crop up in period dramas. The American, Kos-Read insists, is rarely depicted as an evil being.
But there is "the fool," explained thus by Kos-Read: "I come to China disdainful. I don't get it. My character is like, 'China sucks, man.' But through my encounter with amazing China, my opinion changes. The white guy realizes how amazing China is."
And then, finally, the role that's been falling to him now more and more frequently in recent years: the "real guy." "The guy who's a person before he's a foreigner, with motivations beyond being a foreigner," he said.
When Kos-Read started acting in China, he says, screenwriters fell back on stereotypes to depict people from overseas. But the rapid influx of foreign workers and the growing sophistication of the film and television industry means that now most writers have had regular interactions with foreigners and are more apt to portray them with nuance and textured motivations, Kos-Read says.
"There's the Uncle Tom question," he acknowledges. "How do I deal with playing bad guys in Chinese shows?"
The answer, he insists, is that he doesn't take "crazy, ridiculous, evil foreigner" roles. Moreover, he argues that such roles are vanishing. "There was a lot of that before, and a lot less now."
Kos-Read is comfortable here, and has no immediate plans to return to the United States. His income has grown as his profile has risen, and as Chinese film and television budgets have grown more generous. His wife is Chinese, and they have a daughter.
By the way, he adds, American filmmakers are hardly immune to the ills of stereotyping. "They make the same mistake. They treat Chinese characters as culturally driven automatons," he says. "It's disheartening."
megan.stack@latimes.com
