From Silicon Valley Origins to Hollywood Heights: Jon M. Chu’s Journey to Directing ‘Wicked

To go back to this article, go to My Profile, and then look at your saved stories.

Upon Jon M. Chu's arrival at the diner, he blends in seamlessly with the ambiance, hardly distinguishable from any other patron here to grab a bite early in the day. He doesn't exude the aura one might expect from a cinematic titan, yet he undoubtedly holds that status. Chu, the visionary behind the 2018 blockbuster Crazy Rich Asians, is currently helming an ambitious project: a $145 million dual installment film version of the musical Wicked. Typically, as the person conducting the interview, I would stand to welcome Chu. However, I find myself engrossed in a conversation with his father, Lawrence, the culinary mastermind behind Chef Chu’s, and his brother, Larry, who has taken up the mantle of managing the family-owned eatery with their father. They are engaging in lively banter, energetically sharing anecdotes with me. Indeed, this establishment is rich in stories.

Over five decades ago, Chef Chu's launched as a small Chinese takeout spot featuring a modest selection of 12 dishes. With the rise of Silicon Valley around it, the eatery transformed into a beloved hub where both families and tech professionals frequently converge. The presence of numerous red vehicles in the parking area during the weekends signals its popularity among the Asian community. Notably, Steve Jobs was once a patron, and Mark Zuckerberg continues to be. Larry, presumably a staff member, makes it a point to seat Zuckerberg in a secluded spot to minimize the chances of diners taking covert photos with him. Despite the occasional photo, Zuckerberg takes it in stride, a fact Larry humorously attributes to him being the origin of such social phenomena, jesting, "Bro, you started all this!"

As Chef Chu shares with me the story behind his successful menu, which combines originality with widespread appeal, I notice Jon gesturing towards a diminutive table, mentioning, “That was my homework spot.” Though his remark is directed at his assistant, it feels like a discreet cue to me, indicating without disrupting his father, that he, the person I'm here to interview, has made his presence known. I give Chef Chu a moment to finish his thought before approaching Jon to introduce myself.

"Whenever I attempt cooking, I believe I have potential if I really concentrate," states Jon M. Chu (middle), whose family restaurant is managed by his brother and father. "However, I must admit, I'm not skilled in the kitchen."

The director appears quite youthful for someone who is 44 years old. His thick hair makes me quite jealous. Compared to his elder sibling, he speaks in a gentler tone and takes a more deliberate approach in his communication. Whenever he discusses his work, he frequently uses the term "we". Does this imply a kind of authoritative "we", suggesting he views his team as merely extensions of his own will? Or could it be a humble "we", used by someone who wants to avoid seeming egotistical by claiming all the credit? I conclude, however, that his use of "we" mirrors the communal values that parents who are immigrants from Asia—like his and mine—try to embed in their offspring upon arriving in the United States, wary that they might adopt the more solitary American mindset. This echoes the theme portrayed by Michelle Yeoh's character in Crazy Rich Asians.

Chef Chu's is a key feature in the upcoming autobiography titled Viewfinder, with due recognition given to Chu's co-author, Jeremy McCarter, whose name is conspicuously mentioned within the publication. Viewfinder unfolds the narrative of Chu's evolution from a tech-adept youngster in Silicon Valley to a major figure in the film industry, charting his path through the University of Southern California. There, he garnered praise and caught the attention of one of his idols from youth, Steven Spielberg. Right after completing his undergraduate studies, Chu was chosen to helm a high-budget revival of Bye Bye Birdie, catapulting him onto the front pages of prominent industry publications like Variety and The Hollywood Reporter. However, despite the initial buzz, Bye Bye Birdie joined the ranks of numerous initiatives that fizzled out before fruition. Hollywood, as much as it revels in witnessing a rapid ascent, equally relishes observing a downfall reminiscent of Icarus. Variety succinctly captured this sentiment by stating, “This kid didn’t stay in the picture.”

For a considerable time, Chu dedicated himself to his craft, similar to many aspiring directors, facing rejection after rejection while presenting his ideas. His upbringing instilled in him a strong sense of resilience and humility, qualities that eventually positioned him as a preferred director for sequels, including titles like Step Up 2, G.I. Joe: Retaliation, and Now You See Me 2. Despite these films not dazzling critics, their commercial success was sufficient for Warner Bros. to greenlight another project he proposed: a film adaptation of the book Crazy Rich Asians, which he pitched alongside the book's author, Kevin Kwan. This movie achieved phenomenal success, sparking a significant cultural movement and demonstrating to Hollywood that films centered on Asian American stories could achieve major financial success. This opened the door for critically acclaimed movies such as Minari and Everything Everywhere All at Once. Nevertheless, Chu maintains a humble perspective, attributing success to collective efforts rather than his individual contributions.

As we spoke, Chu was in the final stages of editing the initial segment of Wicked, a project that executives are hopeful will be a major success during the Thanksgiving season. We moved to the upstairs banquet hall of the restaurant, seeking refuge from the busy sounds of the kitchen below. Settling into our chairs, we found ourselves under the gaze of nine golden dragons adorning the wall to the east. The number nine symbolizes long life, while gold represents wealth. The eastern orientation is traditionally reserved for the most esteemed visitors.

Jay R. Dayrit suggests that a hallmark of an authentic Chinese eatery is often seen in the presence of a small Asian child engaged in their schoolwork off to the side.

Jon M. Chu: [chuckles] That's a first for me, but indeed, I was that child.

This location marks the beginning of your journey.

Absolutely. Our home is filled with narratives. My parents never miss an opportunity to share tales. Whenever tech professionals visited and noticed me engrossed in my studies, my parents would share anecdotes about my passion for filmmaking and my journey in mastering editing. Consequently, one visitor gifted me a PowerBook Duo followed by a Macintosh Quadra later on. Another individual presented me with editing software, but left me to learn how to use it on my own. I was driven to unravel its workings.

The title of your publication is Viewfinder. Do you prefer to be in the role of an observer, capturing moments, rather than actively participating in them?

Growing up as the youngest in a family of five meant constantly being drowned out in conversations, yet they all paused for television. Creating my own videos and capturing their undivided attention was empowering and gave me a unique voice. Holding a camera transformed me into someone everyone wanted to be around. It was my ticket to mingle with the popular students and approach strangers with ease. It served as my all-access pass. In the sixth grade, lacking a real camera, I crafted a makeshift one from an empty tissue box and a paper roll. This allowed me to engage with people, who found my invention amusing. Their real opinions aside, it opened doors for me. To this day, expressing myself through my films feels more natural than any other form of communication.

Today, the means to create films are accessible to all, yet they're governed by the regulations of social media – filming in vertical orientation, conforming to the restrictions on length and subject matter imposed by these platforms. What's your perspective on this, as well as on the direction of film production and upcoming filmmakers?

The dominance over the platform was always out of our hands. I couldn't dictate the dimensions of a television screen, the scale of a cinema screen, or the fidelity of the audio. As a narrative craftsman, you leverage your imaginative prowess to adapt to the boundaries of your workspace, striving at every turn to transcend them. Each editing decision is a statement in itself. These statements have the power to be either provocative or uplifting.

What are the risks involved?

I understand the stress that comes with sharing content online that suddenly explodes in popularity, leading to the constant need to produce more. It can feel incredibly suffocating. The feedback, should you choose to take it to heart, starts to influence your self-perception. This emotional whirlwind is a topic that needs more discussion and guidance, especially for the younger generation. It seems that not all adults fully grasp these consequences as well.

Your publication includes supplementary boxes providing advice to aspiring filmmakers.

The foremost priority is to create. It's imperative to actually produce something. Discussing the creation process or lamenting about the lack of productivity won't suffice. Without actual creation, you're not contributing anything. Begin now. Embrace the chaos that comes with creation. Absorb the insights that come with the experience. Persist in your efforts.

Steve Jobs served as your inspiration.

In college, I hung the WIRED magazine cover featuring the Apple logo encircled by a crown of thorns on my wall right when Steve Jobs returned, and I declared, “Just wait and see, everyone.”

Jobs was known for his obsessive focus, lack of patience, and irritable nature. What's your opinion on this type of leadership approach?

Absolutely. Our approaches may diverge, yet this doesn't detract from his achievements. Observing every launch, from the iMac to the iPod and the iPhone, it was evident how initially, the public was skeptical of his vision. Yet, he persevered. The focus was never on the product's flair or his own image but always on solving a problem. There's a certain nobility in that which I respect. I'm of the opinion that people aren't born geniuses. Rather, when circumstances align perfectly, that's when the spark of genius emerges from within us.

In your memoir, you recount an experience at the University of Southern California during a viewing of a fellow student's film focused on a female character's romantic endeavors. In a particular scene, she abruptly closes the door on an Asian male suitor, framing the moment as humorous. This scenario resonates deeply with the shared experience of many Asian American men, reminiscent of the character Long Duk Dong from the movie Sixteen Candles.

The experience at USC left a significant mark on me, largely due to my parents' efforts to shield me from external pressures. They effectively surrounded me with a protective layer. The family's restaurant is well-regarded, establishing them as pillars within the community. Throughout my elementary school years, my background as the child of Chinese restaurant owners never became a target for ridicule. My exposure to cinema was extensive, although I noted a scarcity of Asian representation. However, films like The Joy Luck Club were exceptions that brought us immense joy. We eagerly piled into a minivan one Sunday to watch it, feeling a deep connection to the characters who were both humorous and complex, almost as if they were extensions of our own family.

While I was at USC, immersed in a screening at the renowned film school, an intriguing moment occurred. The entrance of an average-looking Asian man suddenly made everyone burst into laughter. At that moment, the humor escaped me entirely. I found myself puzzled, thinking, "What's going on?" It dawned on me much later that the underlying punchline was the stereotype of Asian men being unappealing and clumsy fools. The sound of everyone's laughter was startling. It made me wonder, what impression do I leave when I enter a room? That experience served as an eye-opener.

Your efforts have led to Henry Golding's starring role in Crazy Rich Asians. Additionally, actors such as Simu Liu and Steven Yeun are securing more prominent parts. We also see talents like Bowen Yang and Jimmy O. Yang, who are redefining comedy with their genuine humor, not just playing the fool. While you might not take all the credit, your contribution to bringing attractive Asian male actors to the forefront is certainly appreciated.

My sibling, Larry, usually doesn't show much emotion, yet during a scene in Crazy Rich Asians, specifically when Henry Golding appears in a white suit and Awkwafina remarks, "Oh, it's the Asian bachelor," Larry began to shed tears. After the movie, we had a conversation. He explained, "It's hard to grasp the burden of one's self-awareness and perception until you face the fact that it's something you've never witnessed in cinema before."

We can be thankful that the upcoming generation will be spared from enduring the Long Duk Dong scenario.

It's likely that we will encounter some challenges, as America is currently experiencing a struggle with its cultural identity. It's essential for us to face one another, not with the aim of tearing each other apart, but rather to contribute positively, sending a message that the dream is still alive, albeit perhaps not in the manner our parents described. This, in my view, is the responsibility of the next generation of storytellers, who now have access to an array of modern technologies.

In Hollywood, the strikes involving writers and actors have sparked significant concern about artificial intelligence. What's your stance on the use of AI in the entertainment industry?

Human creativity knows no bounds, and despite fears, past innovations have not stiflated our creative spirit. Artificial Intelligence (AI) presents a unique challenge, yet it serves as a cognitive instrument. It's imperative that we master its utilization. The need to produce an extensive library of films, in the hundreds of millions, is crucial as AI will derive its knowledge from these narratives. The creators of these stories will, intentionally or not, embed our essence within these AI systems. Hence, it's vital to have individuals who grasp technology, those youthful and eager enough to delve into its complexities, to establish appropriate regulations.

Chapter 9 delves into the story of your parents' first encounter, and it's beautifully crafted, almost like a movie script. It carries a sense of mystery, reflecting your parents' hesitance to delve deeply into their history. As someone who also comes from an immigrant background, I get it. It's challenging for our parents to look back at the lives they parted with and ponder on the possibilities they gave up, as it might diminish the significance of the sacrifices they made to build a new life here. We often have to coax these tales from them.

Whenever I inquire about those memories now, I receive conflicting accounts. It seems they're still shielding us in some way. It also appears as though they've somewhat erased from their minds the true difficulty of those experiences. For me, it became essential to piece together the narrative, so my children could understand their history. As a parent myself now, it was important to see my parents through the lens of their younger selves, navigating adulthood, rather than as flawless figures. Admitting their imperfections to me might have been too painful for them. I believe compiling this book has been my way of making sense of my path, especially given its many unresolved threads and dead ends.

It appears you have a habit in your films of wrapping everything up neatly, ensuring viewers leave content. Is this something we can anticipate from Wicked as well?

I've deeply contemplated the essence of what Wizard of Oz represents. It embodies the quintessential American narrative of embarking on the yellow brick road, where at its conclusion, you're promised the fulfillment of your deepest wishes, provided you've earned it. However, the reality is that life doesn't wrap up neatly as stories suggest—it relentlessly continues. In my current projects, I'm delving into the concept of what it truly means to have a "happy ending." This is particularly evident in Wicked, which explores the discomfort brought upon by change in a supposedly utopian Oz, a place synonymous with joy. The introduction of Elphaba's emotions—her anger, sorrow, and frustration—is pivotal for the emergence of new beginnings. It underscores the importance of vocalizing our pains and the wrongs we've done to others as a pathway forward. This theme resonated personally with everyone involved in the production. Elphaba's declaration, “Something has changed within me. Something is not the same,” struck a chord with me, compelling me to pursue this film immediately. The first part symbolizes the decision to ascend, while the second part navigates the complexities that arise from taking a stand.

While Chu and I are engaged in conversation, his mother makes an entrance into the dining hall, promptly giving her son a forehead kiss. She's an agile, slim lady sporting a cropped, gray hairstyle. Chu greets her, expressing his affection. She then addresses me, sharing her belief that a kiss ensures her children remain present, which unexpectedly moves me. Chu reminds his mom that they are in the midst of a discussion, attempting to keep his concentration, but she dismisses his worry with a wave and exits as swiftly as she came in.

It's wonderful that she made the effort to come over and give you a pe

She didn't style my hair, which is a relief. Nor did she comment on my weight.

Isn't it the truth? To our Asian family members, we seem to be perpetually overweight, regardless of reality. How are your culinary skills?

No, I'm really not good at it.

You were raised in a dining establishment.

When others prepare meals for you, when will you pick up cooking skills? Yet, whenever I attempt cooking, I believe I have potential if I concentrate more. I often inform my wife, "I believe I've got it this time." Her response is always a dismissive, "No." I genuinely enjoy arranging the table, welcoming guests, and then presenting each dish while discussing it. However, no, I do not excel in cooking.

Cuisine takes on a role akin to a persona within your films. Watching the street food market segment in Crazy Rich Asians ignited my desire to visit Singapore. Naturally, the dance sequences captivate me, with the dance choreography in In the Heights standing out notably. Specifically, the moment where they perform a dance on the building's wall is simply unforgettable.

I participated in tap dancing, though I wouldn't call myself an exceptional dancer. It's unlikely anyone would watch me dance and think, "He really needs to pursue this!" However, I've had the privilege of being close to some truly talented dancers. I understand the emotions they aim to convey. For instance, if a breakdancer hits the floor and begins to spin, it's not your cue to spin alongside. You should let them lead. This isn't to say I lack understanding; often, my ideas are inspired by dance.

Your book doesn't delve much into your experiences with tap dancing lessons.

It was only my sister and I, along with an elderly lady on the piano. I felt too shy to join in the tapping with the group of girls. I was around 8 or 9 years old at the time.

I underwent training in dance, beginning with ballet before moving on to jazz and contemporary styles. However, I've never learned tap dancing. Could you possibly show me how?

I'm capable of instructing you in the art of card

Jon M. Chu, known for directing Crazy Rich Asians and currently focusing on transforming the Broadway musical Wicked into a film, finds his rhythm outside his family's restaurant in Silicon Valley.

Alright! I'm eager to delve deeper into Wicked. Let's discuss the casting choices. Devotees of the musical have grown accustomed to Idina Menzel portraying Elphaba and Kristin Chenoweth playing Glinda.

In the productions of Crazy Rich Asians and In the Heights, we chose actors who were somewhat familiar to audiences but hadn't fully made their mark yet. Our selection process proved to be on point. Initially, for Wicked, we intended to go with a cast of newcomers. However, after reviewing numerous auditions and receiving a wave of interest from established stars, I came to understand that the two main roles required exceptionally skilled actors. These parts demand performers who are at their peak, capable of reaching the high soprano notes set by Kristin Chenoweth. If an actor can achieve that, chances are they're already well-known. Moreover, they must be able to act convincingly, adding a layer of authenticity to their characters. It's a rare talent to find someone who excels in both aspects.

Cynthia Erivo and Ariana Grande demonstrated their professionalism.

I delayed my introduction to Cynthia until I had encountered everyone else. Given her exceptional, almost otherworldly persona, I was unsure whether she could embody the character of Elphaba, who in the first part of the film is depicted as an idealistic and somewhat innocent individual who experiences pain. I was hesitant to approach her about the role, fearing it might be inappropriate, so I waited. Despite meeting many exceptionally talented individuals, none presented an Elphaba that stood out to me as unprecedented. Eventually, I decided to arrange a Zoom meeting with Cynthia to gauge our compatibility. During our interaction, she exhibited a youthful energy and coolness, with a sparkle in her eyes that caught my attention. She consented to audition, and from the moment she vocalized the opening notes of "Wizard and I," I experienced a visceral reaction, a tangible resonance within me, which may sound strange.

Strange, isn't it? Do you frequently have that immediate realization that they're the one?

Ari's aspiration was no secret; becoming Glinda was her dream. Despite my hesitations, considering Ariana Grande's distinct persona separate from Glinda's, we knew we needed to give her a chance. Remarkably, she arrived early for her audition, fully made up, which led us to request a second audition sans makeup. Ariana agreed without hesitation, showing up early once more, nearly unrecognizable but clearly prepared. Even so, my doubts lingered. After all, she auditioned five times, competing against some of the best in the field. Yet, at the close of each session, Ariana stood out as the most captivating choice. In essence, she embodied Glinda perfectly and proved she deserved the role.

You're working on a virtual reality version of Wicked?

The Vision Pro enables scaling capabilities for my work, simulating the experience of using a 60-inch monitor, a television, and even the expansive view of a movie theater screen. Each perspective offers a unique sensory experience, creating a sense of spatial computing. It's as immersive as standing in a boxing ring during a film.

In your publication, you point out that Hollywood and Silicon Valley seem to have adopted the most negative traits from one another.

Spending my childhood in Silicon Valley felt like living a fantasy. It epitomized the essence of American culture, complete with Boy Scouts, school bands, and even being the school mascot. It was a place where creativity and innovation were in the air, situated near landmarks like Stanford and NASA’s Ames Research Center. Weekends might surprise you with the sight of a solar-powered car. The allure wasn't in ostentation. However, returning now, the ostentation is palpable. The atmosphere in bars has changed, with a new emphasis on how you dress. In the past, appearances and wealth weren't the primary focus. Perhaps it's my age, but the shift towards materialism feels pronounced.

What about Hollywood?

In the past, Hollywood was known for its daring and creative spirit, particularly during the 1970s and 1980s, when films often carried a strong social message. The industry was marked by taking significant risks on the visions of filmmakers, essentially placing bets on the potential of art to make a statement. When I arrived in Hollywood in 2002, traces of this ethos were still present. However, I witnessed a shift as large corporations and telecommunication companies began to dominate, transforming the landscape into one driven by technology. The focus has shifted towards harvesting data, now considered more precious than even oil, by targeting the broadest audience possible to maximize viewership. This change has altered the motivations behind content production, with company executives operating under a different set of priorities and methods for maintaining their positions.

Nonetheless, you remain quite fascinated with technology, don't you?

I absolutely adore it. Silicon Valley provided me with the necessary resources to make my way into Hollywood. The concepts of innovation and progress are always fresh and exciting.

Share your thoughts on this piece by sending a letter to the editor via email at mail@wired.com.

In Other News …

Exclusive: An email informed Joe Biden's campaign staff that he was dropping out of the race, advising them to look at X

J.D. Vance's Venmo account was left open to the public, revealing its details.

A single flawed update from Crowdstrike brought global computer systems to a halt.

Check your email: Will Knight's Fast Forward delves into the latest developments in artificial intelligence.

Innovative technological advancements have the potential to significantly decrease the energy consumption associated with air conditioning systems.

Earning $10,000 monthly by scamming platforms such as Uber and Instacart, she has been dubbed the matriarch of the rideshare underworld.

Additional Content from WIRED

Evaluation and Manuals

© 2024 Condé Nast. Rights reserved. WIRED could receive a share of revenue from items bought via our website, as a component of our Affiliate Collaboration with retail partners. Content from this website cannot be copied, shared, broadcasted, stored, or utilized in any form without explicit consent from Condé Nast. Advertising Options

Choose a global website