For Lucy Liu, starting to understand the otherwise unfathomable choices of her character in the new film “Rosemead” began with language.
To play Irene, a San Gabriel Valley widow taking care of a teenage son with schizophrenia, Liu seized a rare opportunity to use the Mandarin she spoke growing up in a Chinese household in Queens, N.Y. After famously stretching her muscles as one of Charlie’s Angels, the actor found herself working out every word just as hard with a dialect coach — and soon came to understand that the tragedy of the story, based on a 2017 Times article by then-staff writer Frank Shyong, originated long before its devastating end.
Irene’s difficulty communicating with both the American medical system and her troubled son, Liu realized, were central to the drastic action Irene takes when a terminal cancer diagnosis raises the prospect that her son will be left uncared for.
“There are other cultures that have similar problems, whether it’s mental illness or not, but they talk about it,” says Liu. “[And] when you don’t, it’s going to lead to decision-making where you don’t have options. What happened in this particular story was that the mother was just trying to survive.”
Liu has opened up dialogue of all kinds with “Rosemead” since its premiere at the Tribeca Film Festival earlier this year. Her much talked-about turn has fostered discussions about issues close to her heart, for Irene’s inability to address her son’s plight is entangled with her struggle to converse in English, her fears of speaking up as an immigrant in America and the shame she believes his mental illness would bring in a community where psychological issues aren’t often discussed.
First, though, Liu first needed to confront her own fears — including her concern, despite the steely resolve that has been the hallmark of many of her most iconic characters, that she might not be up to the task.
“It was terrifying to know that the story existed, firstly,” Liu says. “And then it was more terrifying because I would have to embody this woman and make others care for her. I did not want to fail at that because I think that if you described it to somebody, she would be vilified quickly. So how do I counteract that by humanizing her and showing the love that she had for her son for her to do what she did?”
Remarkably, writer Marilyn Fu and director Eric Lin’s thoughtful screen adaptation is the first of Liu’s lengthy career to rest entirely on her shoulders as a dramatic lead. But the bigger part only allowed for more subtlety as Liu sought to inhabit someone made to feel small by her circumstances, who still doesn’t shrink from doing right by her child.
“The language was a really important part of the character that I wanted the audience to absorb, that she was missing a lot of the things that she should have heard, including her own experience for her doctor visits,” says Liu. “It touches a very deep part of me that I’ve had to access a few times, but not to this level. Also to carry the weight of her illness in her body, it brings to the surface a lot of the realities of what life is for those that are older or ill or don’t have the system working for them or that they can’t advocate for themselves.” Off-screen Liu had to fight for the film itself over a seven-year gestation, unwavering in her commitment to get the difficult drama made as a producer on the project and helping out with the search for an actor to take on the challenging role of Irene’s son Joe, who is played with great nuance by first-timer Lawrence Shou. Although it was a lot for Liu to take on, letting go has been even harder.
“I can still feel her, and the vibration of what happened is so painful,” she says of Irene. “I had to really walk away from anything else after that for quite a while just to recalibrate and distinguish what is this going to teach me for myself as a mother, as a human being, as someone who sees others and to relate on a deeper level with [the idea that] you don’t really know what’s going on behind the scenes for anyone. … There’s always a story behind it, and that gives me a greater depth of empathy for others.”
Liu can be comforted by the fact that “Rosemead” has seemed to stay with audiences as she’s accompanied it on its travels from Philadelphia to Locarno and now into U.S. theaters. (It opens Friday in New York and Dec. 12 in Los Angeles.) Finding that the film has connected with moviegoers well beyond the Asian diaspora, she’s been moved by the vulnerability of people who share their own experiences regarding mental health after screenings, well aware of the stigma still attached to speaking about such things publicly. It’s an air of openness that she felt on the film’s set and hopes will only expand.
“When you’re working on something that deep, it does open up conversations about even your own family members and or people that you know that have struggled with it or have passed away, and it is what leads to the conversation that we’re hoping for,” says Liu. “And I think [that’s] what doesn’t happen in the movie, which is tragic, is conversation.”
The post How Lucy Liu found the words to understand an unspeakable act in ‘Rosemead’ appeared first on Los Angeles Times.
