Fifty years ago this month, on September 30, 1955, James Dean died. Only 24 years old, Dean had just finished shooting George Stevens’ epic Giant and was speeding down Highway 46 between Los Angeles and San Francisco in “Little Bastard,” the name of his beloved Porsche Spyder, when he crashed into a car driven by college student Donald Turnupseed.
Dean’s last words to his passenger Rolf Wutherich were, “That guy’s gotta stop. He’ll see us.”
Dean appeared in only three major film roles (Giant, Rebel Without a Cause and East of Eden — all undisputed classics), but he had already changed the face of screen acting with his raw emotional authenticity. His premature passing ensured that he would become a legend — unlike Marlon Brando, a fellow icon and contemporary, who made the mistake of growing old, fat and weird.
Five decades later, Dean’s performances feel as fresh and modern as they must have back in his day. I recently saw Giant again on the big screen and although Dean’s performance was more stylized than all the talk of his being a Method actor would suggest, the emotional truth he embodied in his character was stunning. Although he played the film’s “villain,” the pain and vulnerability he brought to the role added layers of depth that other actors can only dream about.
An Asian American friend asked me recently, “When are we going to have our own James Dean?”
Now that’s a tall order. Like Marilyn Monroe or Charlie Chaplin, Dean was a complete original. It’s not just talent. It’s not just good looks. It’s not even simply “star” power. These icons also share an intangible quality that sets them above everyone else.
I suspect it has something to do with the two words I used to describe Dean’s work in Giant — pain and vulnerability.
Even a comedian like Charlie Chaplin carries these traits — after all, what else is The Tramp if not a reflection of an American man who has been stripped of everything — the ultimate underdog.
Pain and vulnerability are two things Asian Pacific Americans should understand and know intimately. But even if an APA actor appeared on the scene with those qualities, will Hollywood be ready?
Over 30 years ago, such a person, an Asian American male, did come along and Hollywood didn’t know what to do with him.
His name was Bruce Lee.
Lee definitely possessed the iconic qualities of a superstar. However, considering Lee was a martial arts action star, one would think that pain and vulnerability would be far removed from his persona.
But it was those very qualities that set him apart from other martial arts actors whose abilities were equal to or even better than Lee’s.
We knew Lee was going to kick ass in the end, but we still cared about his character in a way that I would argue doesn’t apply to other action stars.
Hollywood slammed the door on Lee, but he didn’t let that stop him. He went overseas, made his low-budget martial arts flicks and became a worldwide phenomenon on his own.
If Dean, Monroe or Chaplin had been rejected by Hollywood in the same way, their careers would have ended. The fact that Lee avoided this fate is truly amazing and a testament to his iron will.
The Bosnian city of Mostar announced this month that they would be erecting a statue of Bruce Lee as a symbolic protest against ethnic division.
Mostar city officials said they chose Lee as a hero that all ethnic groups could relate to in a city that still remains bitterly divided after the fighting between Croats and Muslims during the 1992-1995 war.
“At a time when politics and ethnic ideology have occupied and poisoned everyday life, we want to show that there are true values that have nothing to do with politics,” the Mostar association said.
Now if that isn’t evidence that Bruce Lee falls under the category of “legend,” I don’t know what is. And that should give us hope for all the future Asian American icons who are waiting for their close-ups.