AKA Mr. Chow (now streaming on Max) profiles a true modern renaissance man: Michael Chow, an outsized personality and self-described eccentric whose Mr. Chow restaurant chain has dished out upscale Chinese cuisine to celebrities for decades. His a big-idea man with an eye for detail which he applies to his variety of creative outlets: food, painting, acting, interior design. Director Nick Hooker sits Chow down to vividly narrate his story in this documentary profile that tries to get a glimpse behind a bigger-than-life personality.
The Gist: If this movie is your introduction to Michael Chow, he makes quite the first impression: This guy, looking 20 years younger than his 84 years, with garish George Burns glasses, meticulously groomed mustache and bouffantish hair, performing a sort-of parlor trick where an offscreen voice throws out a classic film title and Chow describes the opening shot in detail. He knows his movies, sure, but you also quickly comprehend how he’s known as a host with the most who hobnobs with the celebs who visit his restaurants and admire his paintings. Then we see him at work in his art studio, ordering around two assistants as he smashes globs of paint on a canvas with a rubber mallet, letting out a satisfying “WHOOP!” “Speed, please, speed,” he says impatiently, as he waits for someone to put a hammer in his hand. He’s demanding. He’s in the zone. He’s working. He’s creating. He’s – well, he’s a weirdo.
But he is absolutely himself, an outsized character with a life full of extraordinary experiences that justify the feature-documentary treatment. He sits center-frame and tells his story: Born in Shanghai, China in 1938, the youngest child of famous Beijing Opera actor Zhao Xinfang and a doting mother who pampered and spoiled him because he was asthmatic. “I lived like a prince,” he says. She cultivated his love of the movies, frequently taking him to double-features. It’s worth noting, Chow doesn’t just tell his story, he orates, with dramatic pauses and colorful inflection, which become more prevalent when he shares how he was sent to boarding school in London and, no longer pampered by his mother, endured panic attacks. And racism; it was the 1950s, so sadly, we aren’t surprised by this development. He rode his sister’s coattails – she’s two-time Bond girl and The Joy Luck Club star Tsai Chin – and landed a few movie roles, usually playing Asian stereotypes. His first role? A laundry boy who gets run over by a truck.
Thus began a wildly diverse career that rewarded him for his creativity. He was a painter in the early ’60s, but soon set aside those ambitions to open a restaurant, with the intention of offering upscale Chinese food to high-end clientele. He used the work of his prominent artist friends to decorate the restaurant, which he dubbed Mr. Chow, a name that would soon encompass his persona as a vibrant, charismatic host to the stars. It was wildly successful, prompting him to open locations in Los Angeles and New York in the ’70s. He still sits center-frame, in front of one of his massive abstract paintings, admitting to being a gambling addict – he’s a poker player – but nudging the topic aside for more autobiography. We see him giving a pep talk to his L.A. restaurant staff – Mr. Chow is still a popular eatery decades after opening – and he tells them, “This is theater,” because eating there isn’t just about food, it’s about the experience. He even coaches them on how to fold napkins with artistic flair. He shares his many triumphs and crushing tragedies. A friend describes him as “A man who doesn’t want anybody to know who he really is.” But does this documentary defy that statement? Mmmmmmaybe.
What Movies Will It Remind You Of?: AKA Mr. Chow isn’t the fawning hagiography that Wolfgang Puck bio Wolfgang is, nor is it the thoughtful, artful Jiro Dreams of Sushi; it falls somewhere in between.
Performance Worth Watching: You’re a fool if you think anyone outshines Mr. Chow. He makes sure that doesn’t happen. And he’s always performing. Always.
Memorable Dialogue: A classic Chow ramble hits on how he projects confidence: “When you’re not a really good man, you feel like an asshole. You follow me? In my world, one, prepare to eat better, and two, you have to be prepared to be an asshole. But asshole with a twist, OK? Not normal asshole, specialized asshole.”
Sex and Skin: None.
Our Take: This guy is a nut. But he’s 1/1. There’s nobody else like him. Does AKA Mr. Chow get beneath his persona to the real man? Hard to tell, but it argues that the persona is the man, at least in part, and implies that people aren’t always the product of nature and nurture, but also of conscious will and intent. The details as to how he afforded to live abroad and partake a life of art and partying aren’t made clear; they’re likely unflattering, considering his father’s status and wealth, and in matter-of-factly calling himself a “prince,” he pretty much says he’s the product of privilege. But he’s also inarguably a man with big ideas and even greater ambition who willed his Mr. Chow character into existence by embracing eccentricity and creativity. His story is inspiring, told here with the splashy, quick, entertaining verve that reflects his character.
It’s also incredibly sad at times, a portrait of equal parts great privilege and great tragedy. Chow suffered from significant bouts of depression throughout his life, and he speaks about his parents’ grievous fate – the Maoist regime imprisoned his father and beat his mother to death – with an I’m-over-it tone of “acceptance” that feels less than genuine, like dismissiveness masking great pain. The minutiae of who he really is isn’t as important as the big picture: creativity is his outlet, and it truly defines him. Hooker makes this assertion by spending significant time with Chow as he “paints” with eggs and a blowtorch, shredding holes in the canvases of massive abstract works that one could interpret as splattery reflections of his subconscious, unspoken self. The implication? Art is necessary. It helps us cope and heal and survive, and it’s one of the things that defines humanity itself. Mr. Chow is a man, a brand, a personality, but above all that, he’s an artist.
Our Call: AKA Mr. Chow tackles a difficult task – truly getting to know a nigh-unknowable man – and ultimately succeeds. STREAM IT.
John Serba is a freelance writer and film critic based in Grand Rapids, Michigan.