This article contains movie spoilers.
Turning Red was a nostalgia trip, to say the least. The latest Pixar film not only features the studio’s first Asian lead since 2009’s Up, the movie is also directed by Pixar’s first female director, Domee Shi.
Growing up, I was Mei. I obsessed over the Jonas Brothers, embarrassed myself in front of crushes, and even carried an instrument around school (in my case, the clarinet). While the film primarily focuses on the mother-daughter relationship between Mei and Ming, there’s one character who deserves more recognition (and praise): Jin Lee.
When we first see Jin in action, he is in the kitchen cooking a delectable spread of Chinese dishes while Mei and Ming are sitting on the couch watching Chinese soap operas and making dumplings. Even though Jin doesn’t get as much screen time as Mei and Ming, he is the stable presence of the Lee family who grounds them and tries his best to prevent chaos and conflict. When he tells a distressed Mei, “Red is a lucky color,” he provides a positive perspective of Mei’s transformation as she learns to find balance between her and her red panda. Jin plays this comforting and supportive role throughout the film, and it’s moments like these that remind me so much of me and my father.
My dad has always been the goofy father who blurts out dad jokes and cheesy puns whenever he can, and finds Groupons for some of the most random family outings. He was the stay-at-home parent who cooked delicious meals for me and my brother, drove us to our extracurricular activities, and helped us with our homework.
Asian fathers are often portrayed as stoic, emotionless characters who don’t have the best relationship with their children. From Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings’s Xu Wenwu to The Farewell’s Haiyan, these fathers usually do not show their “softer” side until the end of the film, if at all.
In Turning Red, however, Jin is immediately introduced as a lovable father who cooks mouth-watering meals in his floral apron, sneaks Timbits when Ming isn’t looking, and even listens to Mei’s favorite boy band, 4*Town (in the post-credit scene, in case you missed it).
I especially teared up when Jin discovers the videos of Mei and her friends having fun with her panda side. Rather than reprimand Mei for releasing the red panda at school, he tells her that everyone has a messy side to them, and it’s up to you whether you want to hide it or embrace it. He then says, “Erase it if you want, but this side of you…made me laugh.”
The conversation between Mei and Jin reminded me of countless talks I had with my father as a teenager. He’s always been the neutralizer of the family, particularly if my mom and I were in the middle of heated arguments. Instead of yelling at me for doing something wrong, my dad usually approached the situation like Jin, with a calmness that allowed me to reflect on my mistakes and make amends with him and my mom.
Asian fathers tend to be cast under a harsh light filled with negative stereotypes; but my dad was never like any of those fathers I saw on screen as a child.
By limiting characters to stereotypes associated with their race, the nuances within their culture or community are suppressed, and we’re left with two-dimensional caricatures.
Father-daughter relationships can be difficult, but they can also be powerful. My relationship with my dad definitely faced its own challenges as I was going through puberty (a.k.a my giant red panda phase), but he never let me forget how much he loved and supported me.
Jin is one of the first characters in whom I saw my own dad and our relationship represented on screen, and it’s movies like Turning Red that prove the importance of “feeling seen” in entertainment.