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A review by brice_mo
Viewfinder: A Memoir of Seeing and Being Seen by Jon M. Chu
3.0
Thanks to NetGalley and Random House for the ARC!
For better or worse, Jon M. Chu’s Viewfinder is a memoir constructed like a biopic, offering bombast, palatable revelations, and a protagonist that is likable to a fault.
With the forthcoming release of the Wicked movies, there’s never been a better time for this book. Despite helming a few massive commercial successes, Chu has been a bit of an enigma, largely remaining—or being contained—behind the scenes. His early career was as a journeyman director for big-budget sequels, and that status carried into Crazy Rich Asians, even when the movie itself showcased a distinctive vision. Viewfinder attempts to find some continuity between each of Chu’s projects, though it’s at its best when it doesn’t.
Parts of this book are exceptional, particularly the chapters surrounding the development and production of Crazy Rich Asians and In The Heights. They showcase the intentionality that Chu brings to projects that could easily be big, dumb fun. He cares. This is clearest in his description of a bidding war between Netflix and Warner Bros for Crazy Rich Asians. Although Netflix was the “smarter” choice, Chu opted for the latter’s lowball offer because of the symbolic heft of the studio’s legacy and the theatrical experience. He’s just a guy who loves movies and what they mean. Each time Viewfinderoffers these glimmers of something personal, it shines. Chu has so many unmade passion projects, and his humility is admirable. I mean, he chose to direct Step Up 2 because he decided his mother’s judgment was better than Steven Spielberg’s.
But a lot of this book just doesn’t work.
Many of the critiques leveled at Chu’s movies are true of Viewfinder—it’s an effective, stylish pastiche of familiar narrative beats. We see a Forrest Gump-like charmed life where famous people populate the margins and hard work always pays off. I don’t fault Chu for this issue—I think the problem originates with his cowriter, Jeremy McCarter. There are too many moments where readers can feel strained attempts to add connective tissue that simply isn’t there. For example, Chu’s excitement about technology is contorted into prophetic insight about the role of the internet. One gets the sense that McCarter refuses to allow many of these life details to just “be”—they always need to constellate into a simple connect-the-dots pattern. Readers are then presented with dueling images—the Jon Chu whose career has been driven by creative risks and a scrappy, excited exploration, and the fully-formed cinematic genius whose life is essentially promo for Wicked.
It’s a strange feeling to wish a book were a little rougher around the edges, but that's the case here. If you’re interested in movies, it’s a good time; if you’re interested in Jon M. Chu, you won’t necessarily see too much of him in this Viewfinder.
For better or worse, Jon M. Chu’s Viewfinder is a memoir constructed like a biopic, offering bombast, palatable revelations, and a protagonist that is likable to a fault.
With the forthcoming release of the Wicked movies, there’s never been a better time for this book. Despite helming a few massive commercial successes, Chu has been a bit of an enigma, largely remaining—or being contained—behind the scenes. His early career was as a journeyman director for big-budget sequels, and that status carried into Crazy Rich Asians, even when the movie itself showcased a distinctive vision. Viewfinder attempts to find some continuity between each of Chu’s projects, though it’s at its best when it doesn’t.
Parts of this book are exceptional, particularly the chapters surrounding the development and production of Crazy Rich Asians and In The Heights. They showcase the intentionality that Chu brings to projects that could easily be big, dumb fun. He cares. This is clearest in his description of a bidding war between Netflix and Warner Bros for Crazy Rich Asians. Although Netflix was the “smarter” choice, Chu opted for the latter’s lowball offer because of the symbolic heft of the studio’s legacy and the theatrical experience. He’s just a guy who loves movies and what they mean. Each time Viewfinderoffers these glimmers of something personal, it shines. Chu has so many unmade passion projects, and his humility is admirable. I mean, he chose to direct Step Up 2 because he decided his mother’s judgment was better than Steven Spielberg’s.
But a lot of this book just doesn’t work.
Many of the critiques leveled at Chu’s movies are true of Viewfinder—it’s an effective, stylish pastiche of familiar narrative beats. We see a Forrest Gump-like charmed life where famous people populate the margins and hard work always pays off. I don’t fault Chu for this issue—I think the problem originates with his cowriter, Jeremy McCarter. There are too many moments where readers can feel strained attempts to add connective tissue that simply isn’t there. For example, Chu’s excitement about technology is contorted into prophetic insight about the role of the internet. One gets the sense that McCarter refuses to allow many of these life details to just “be”—they always need to constellate into a simple connect-the-dots pattern. Readers are then presented with dueling images—the Jon Chu whose career has been driven by creative risks and a scrappy, excited exploration, and the fully-formed cinematic genius whose life is essentially promo for Wicked.
It’s a strange feeling to wish a book were a little rougher around the edges, but that's the case here. If you’re interested in movies, it’s a good time; if you’re interested in Jon M. Chu, you won’t necessarily see too much of him in this Viewfinder.