Karen Yamashita - I Hotel

Arise, you prisoners of starvation.

Arise, you wretched of the earth.

For justice thunders condemnation ,

for a better world’s in birth.

No more tradition’s chains shall bind us.

Arise you slaves, no more in thrall.

The earth shall rise on new foundation.

We have been naught, we shall be all.

’Tis the final conflict.

Let each stand in his place.

The Internationale unites the human race.

1 CHINATOWN—NIGHT

(overheard) Forget it, Jake—it’s Chinatown.

Chinese extras crowd around the cream-colored convertible Packard in the final scene. Chinese men in caps or fedoras; Chinese women with hats and purses; a white soldier and his date. More Chinese appear on the street to rubberneck the final scene, bewildered and amused. SOUND of jazz horn.

Credits roll down over the night neon and paper-littered street. Cars and an occasional bicycle pass. Chinese continue to loiter. Butler: James Hong. Maid: Beulah Quo.

2 SAN FRANCISCO CHINATOWN—NIGHT

The Hollywood set fades into real takes of Chinatown nightlife. Camera view alternates between drive-by views and a walking jaunt down Grant Street in the dark. Pans the neon, pagoda facades, catches tourist couples, groups of families emerging from restaurants, shops closing, and workers walking briskly home. SOUND of radio music: Mighty Mighty (Earth, Wind & Fire).

OPENING CREDITS

Credits superimposed on the continuing Chinatown street walk. Camera view seems to be wandering, but it’s the yearly parade route. SOUND of the parade as a kind of residue only.

As the walk continues the night deepens, and the morning lights up through the fog. The streets are the same, but the traffic and passersby change from drunken tourists and bums to early-morning produce trucks, newspaper stand deliveries, shopkeepers opening up. SOUND of pedestrians, cars, restaurant noises, deliveries, music from bars and radios.

By the end of the credits it’s early morning, and the camera view heads into Portsmouth Square, still in fog.

3 PORTSMOUTH SQUARE

Stills of the plaza from four angles: Grant, Kearny, Clay, and Washington streets.

4 CLOSE-CHECKER TABLES

Pool of blood drying on stool next to one of the checker tables, with a trail dripped over the cement walkway. Water from a bucket is being splashed onto the stool, and a scrub brush is scrubbing away. As the blood is washed out, the black stenciled image of Mao Tse-tung emerges on the orange stool. As the camera pulls away from the one stool, it can be seen that all the stools around the table have been stenciled with Mao’s face. SOUND of scrubbing and background radio news about Watergate scandal, calls for impeachment.

5 GARDENER

Middle-aged Chinese man in his forties, in cap and uniform. He’s the caretaker of the square who does gardening and janitorial work. Good-natured and earnest. He’s got a portable transistor radio in his shirt pocket that he turns down before continuing his cleaning.

GARDENER

Drug addicts probably. Pool of blood downstairs too. No. No body. Maybe he got picked up. You don’t know what happens at night. Knifing each other for a fix. I leave at four p.m. That’s when my day’s over. I’m hired to garden, but daytime, this is like a living room, see what I mean? Old guys come out of their hotel rooms and spend the entire day here, playing checkers and mah-jongg. They gonna be here soon. Got to get this shit cleaned up.

6 TRASH CANS

Cans are painted with graffiti: Off the Pigs! Gardener continues to work, sweeping and throwing trash into the cans. Throws more water on the tables and Mao-faced stools.

GARDENER

Radicals did this. I could order some paint, but first it’s the city bureaucracy and second, the old guys say leave it alone. Old Fong said, “It could be my imagination, but my ass’s warmer these days. Why bother? More work for you.” Secretly, they don’t say. They’re, you know, red. Commies. You work all your life and end up with no family, alone in the park with just your best suit and hat and a social security check for $125, you gonna be a Commie too.

7 FOG LIFTS

As the fog lifts, a few men can be seen gathering in the square, their figures floating in like ghosts. SOUNDS of greetings, formalities. Some sit on benches and stare. Others settle down to read newspapers. A game of Chinese chess begins at the table where the gardener had been scrubbing.

The square fills up with business people passing, kids on their way to school, eventually employees crossing the square to lunch in Chinatown. Someone passes out leaflets. The gardener works in the background, trimming hedges, mowing. SOUND of traffic, bustle.

8 CHINESE CRAZY MAN

A Chinese man is walking around the plaza talking to himself. The camera follows him. He talks into the camera gesticulating and lecturing in Chinese. He walks over to a bench and stands on it. He continues to make his speech.

CRAZY MAN

(speaks in Cantonese with subtitles in English as follows) Chinamen are made, not born . . . out of junk-imports, lies, railroad scrap iron, dirty jokes, broken bottles, cigar smoke, Cosquilla Indian blood, wino spit, and lots of milk of amnesia.

. . . in the beginning there was the Word! . . . And the Word was CHINAMAN. [1] From Chickencoop Chinaman by Frank Chin, from Aiiieeeee! , Howard University Press, 1975

The men playing chess and reading their papers look up and look away. They ignore him, or they seem to gesture and say something to their companions and continue to play or read.

CRAZY MAN

(continuing English subtitles)

I am the natural born ragmouth speaking the motherless bloody tongue. No real language of my own to make sense with, so out comes everybody else’s trash that don’t conceive. But the sound truth is that I AM THE NOTORIOUS ONE AND ONLY CHICKENCOOP CHINAMAN HIMSELF that talks in the dark heavy Midnight, the secret Chinatown Buck Buck Bagaw. [2] See note 1

SOUND of voice of Crazy Man continues in the background.

GARDENER

That one there. He’ll talk himself out next few days. He can do some sweeping around here. I’ll give him a couple of beers. Then they’ll pick him up, and he’ll be gone again to the mental can in San Bruno. Another thirty days, and he’s back again.

CRAZY MAN

(continuing English subtitles)

. . . I am a Chinaman! A miracle synthetic! Drip dry and machine washable. [3] See note 1

9 CHECKER TABLES

Men gather around the checker tables, look at camera and answer questions between turns.

OLD CHINAMEN

That one there, he’s crazy, but you listen. He say something smart. Most of the crazies, they got nothing to say.

This place here like a stage.

Ha ha. What they say? All world’s a stage.

I tell you something. We Chinese all actors. Pretending. (smiles into camera)

There you go again. Don’t listen. Go take your camera someplace else.

No really. Chinese are greatest actors. We play double roles. We got our real names and then we got our paper names. Name in lights, name in stone.

What you want to go tell them that on TV? You stupid or something?

What’s it to you? I’m old. I die tomorrow, they send my check to my paper name, but they bury me with my real name. Great Chinatown secret is we all got two names.

Both names real. Paper more real—that’s the one America wants. Give them what they want!