Warning: spoilers ahead
Love in Taipei, a new rom-com released on August 10, reframes the immigrant’s “myth of return” for the modern Asian American. I had the pleasure to interview Abigail Hing Wen, the author of Loveboat, Taipei and producer of the adapted film, where she connects her personal life to the plot to show us a variety of perspectives of what returning to the homeland means across generations.
Not really culture shock but partly culture shock
Love in Taipei centers on Ever Wong (Ashley Liao), a high-achieving medical student to-be who studies abroad in Taiwan on her parents’ wishes on a program dubbed as “Loveboat.” Having settled in a rural Ohio town where they were the only Asian Americans, Ever’s parents expect the program to hone her poor Mandarin and strengthen her cultural ties to their home country.
But when she arrives, Ever finds herself surrounded by only other Asian Americans—a relatively new experience in her life—whose chief focus is finding romance while enjoying Taipei’s extensive nightlife scene. Loveboat confronts Ever with balancing her parents’ wishes, her ambitions, and having fun, all for the first time. Along the way, she develops romantic interests with carefree Xavier Yeh (Nico Hiraga) and world-famous prodigy Rick Woo (Ross Butler).
The original novel draws upon Wen’s own experiences. She and Ever share a similar upbringing in Ohio, with an ambitious drive and passion for the arts hidden away from their parents (in Ever’s case, it is dancing, while in Wen’s case, it is writing). After her senior year of high school, Wen studied abroad for a summer on the real-life version of Loveboat.
The myth of return for the modern day
The “myth of return” refers to a set of false beliefs that immigrants seek to head back to their home countries upon achieving some level of success. Academics have used it to explain immigrant behaviors to a certain degree, such as why immigrant families emphasize retaining their home tongue. It is a myth because many immigrants and their children often never return to their home countries.
Ever’s parents immigrated to America to find greater opportunities and freedom for their children. Still, racial discrimination caused her father to work a job he was well overqualified for, a fate faced by many Taiwanese doctors who emigrated at the time.
In Love in Taipei, Ever does return to her home country, but her experiences show that the myth of return is no longer relevant for her generation. Her return to Taiwan is neither the triumph of the successful immigrant nor the rigorous cultural education her parents seem to anticipate–it’s a summer-long party.
For her and many students on the trip, such as Xavier and Rick, Loveboat is not a return but an escape. Ever’s initial confusion and much of the movie’s plot centers around the disconnect in expectations (a studies-first academic program) versus reality (a party-first extended vacation).
In an ironic twist, the students flee from the expectations bred by their parents’ immigrant philosophies by going back to their homeland. We see that being Asian American and being an immigrant are distinctly different.
Parental expectations follow the students, as demonstrated by the party Rick’s aunt throws to parade around the success of her immigrant nephew. She wants others to see how the myth of return is possible. In sending her to reconnect with her culture, Ever’s parents exhibit a belief in return, which to a degree, fuels why Ever thinks they will disapprove of her pursuit of dance.
See also: From the Canadian Prairies to Taiwan: How Learning Mandarin Helped Me Discover My Chinese Identity
Across generations
Wen brought both her perspectives as an Asian American child and parent to create the story for Loveboat, Taipei. Wen shares that “if I can help to bridge understanding between the older and younger generation, then I would feel like I’ve accomplished something.”
In Ever, the audience can see a reflection of Wen’s struggle with imposter syndrome and balancing parental expectations with personal ambitions. In Ever’s parents, Wen embeds a story of how parents wish their children to avoid their mistakes. Ever’s father wants her to have a successful career, and Ever’s mother wants her to stay connected with her family roots.
“[Immigrant parents] see themselves in the book, they see the fear Ever’s parents have for her and they relate to it,” says Wen.
The scene at the end where Ever presents her passion for dance to her parents connects to Wen’s memory of telling her parents that she was a writer. Wen details that her parents heard the news of her book deal from her brother. When she opened the door to visit them, they were elated that she had a million dollar book deal, but their faces sank when she told them she was not making a million dollars off it.
Adding nuance while cutting words
A lover of movies, Wen knew she wanted to adapt Loveboat, Taipei into a film “from day one.” Wen described how her publisher noted how the novel invokes strong images in one’s head—unsurprising since Wen considers herself a visual thinker. From there, adapting it to a screenplay, a dream for Wen, seemed only a few more steps away from becoming reality.
Condensing over 400 pages of text into a 90-minute script posed a challenge. One of Wen’s strategies was to embed the depth of the novel into the visual detailing of the movie’s scenes.
“I enjoyed leaning into different aspects of different mediums. With a book, you can go deeper into the interior of a character, you can talk about the culture and the history of a place,” says Wen. “In the visual medium, you can lean into the beauty of Taipei and the kinetic energy of the dancers.”
Some of Wen’s concision choices for the screenplay further developed the themes in the novel. For example, Wen recast Ever’s ballet mentor in the novel into the character of Auntie Shu, a vibrant and free-spirited artist.
Despite having the opportunity to travel the world, Auntie Shu chooses to remain in Taipei. She seems to see through the “myth of return” and encourages Ever to enjoy the present moment without deciding on what path to take for the future.
Moreover, Auntie Shu encourages Ever to pursue dancing and provides critical support. Seeing a family member encourage the pursuit of the arts departs from the stereotypical dichotomy between following the family’s wishes and personal interest in Asian American narratives. Love in Taipei shows that not all Asian family members are obsessed with the next generation achieving the myth of return.
Ultimately, Wen wants audiences to see that “you can be who you want to be and meant to be, you can find a path to reflect all the different aspects of who you are.”
Loveboat, again?
Wen’s commentary on the myth of return resonates with modern Asian American audiences. In it, we see how returning to the homeland is viewed across various generations and personalities.
Wen considers herself grateful to have connected with her roots through the novels and the film. She made multiple trips to Taiwan to research the books and film the movie, each time growing closer and closer to the city. She even brought her husband and kids along when shooting the Love in Taipei.
@abigailhingwen Taipei Trips Part 3! Hear about my research for book 1 of the Loveboat series 📝 #loveboattaipei #LoveinTaipei #loveboat #loveboatreunion #loveboatforever #booktok #filmtok #ya #travel #taipei #taiwan #author ♬ Good Vibes (Instrumental) – Ellen Once Again
“For my children, that was their Loveboat experience,” says Wen. She didn’t express any intention of enrolling them in the actual Loveboat program. Perhaps, her decision reflects an understanding that her children can find their identities without buying into the myth of return—that they will be better positioned today to find their place in society than previous Asian American generations.
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