Movies That Should Have Starred Asians: Hollywood Musical Edition

Photoshop courtesy of Offender David

Photoshop courtesy of Offender David

Sony just released the first trailer for their upcoming reboot of the musical Annie. Starring Beast of the Southern Wild’s Quvenzhane Wallis as the titular character who is “adopted” by Jamie Foxx’s billionaire mayoral candidate, this version adds a little bit of African American flavah to a tried-and-true musical classic and, at least from the trailer, looks like this could lead to a fresh and fun take:

So could a similar formula be applied to Asians? Here are my choices for 5 Hollywood musicals that weren’t created with Asians in mind (so no Flower Drum Song or The King and I), but with some slight adjustments could be re-worked into an Asian or Asian American story.

Be nice to Whitney Houston.. she’s dead.

Girl was hot in her day!

I’m sitting in a hotel in San Antonio, TX. I’ve been flying for 6 hours (thanks Work for always getting me the worst flights so that you keep your costs down!) and I’m trying to unwind by eating my $14.00 airport Waldorf salad while watching some kind of episode of Teen Mom 2 on MTV. (I don’t own a television in real life, so when I get a chance to boob tube it, I find it quite foreign and exhilarating.) And what’s that scrolling across the bottom? Whitney Houston…R and B superstar… is found DEAD?!?!?!

You’ve got to be flippin’ kidding!

Why do I feel so sad?

Three Lessons Learned from Talking to Kids.

From time to time, I give talks to elementary school children about careers and growing up.

Yes, I am aware of the irony.

After a year-long hiatus, I was called back into doing this last month.  And, well – children still say the damnedest things.

I had the privilege of conversing with a class of First Graders.

We started off with a guessing game of their choosing.

Unfortunately for my self-esteem, they were guessing how old I was.

“55″ was the opening shot.

Then someone chimed in with “36.”

At this point, I was starting to wonder where they were pulling these numbers.  Did I look that haggard?  Was my tone too stuffy?

Was I dressed like an old man or something?

Okay, so maybe I was asking for it.

My PTSD: Birthdays

 

The one and only time I ever snuck into my mom’s purse wasn’t to steal money, cigarettes, or even to “experiment,” however innocently, with her lipstick. No, it was to check her driver’s license.

I was ten, and I needed to find out her birthday.  You see, I have a block when it comes to remembering birthdays.

It’s not that I dread getting older – fair or not, we men, in exchange for enlarged prostate glands and limp dick issues, at least get to look “distinguished” as we age. No, my block is about one horrible day when I was nine years old and “forgot” my mom’s birthday. Ever since then, I can’t remember birthdays – friends, family, doesn’t matter – I just can’t. Granted, I know that Elvis and Bowie share the same birthday, but I can’t tell you what day it falls on.