Not long ago, Nathan Xia had a chance to audition for a huge franchise: It was seeking an Asian American actor who knew martial arts, and he threw himself into the process.
He didn’t get the part — but he did end up making a compelling, resonant short film about the experience. “Flavor of the Month” is an insightful, darkly funny film a young actor named Harrison Huang (played by Xia) who finds himself in a highly competitive competition to be the next big Asian American lead.
It’s an especially serious competition because Hollywood has so few Asian American leads, and Huang finds himself thrown into an identity crisis — much like one Xia experienced himself.
A musician as well as filmmaker, Xia is a charismatic performer and skilled filmmaker with a gift for combining complex ideas and easily digestible stories. The film was just selected by Short of the Week, and you can watch it above or here.
We first saw “Flavor of the Week” at the Ouray International Film Festival — one of our 50 Film Festivals Worth the Entry Fee — where your humble correspondent was on the jury that named him a Filmmaker to Watch. We talked with him about tropes, becoming an actor out of necessity, and how music taught him to tell stories.
Nathan Xia on ‘Flavor of the Month’
MovieMaker: How did the idea for this come about? How much does it reflect your experience as an actor going to auditions?
Nathan Xia: A few years back, I woke up to an audition request for the lead role in a major blockbuster film. I grew up watching the franchise, so booking the part would be a dream come true. I acted my ass off, submitted my tape, and prayed for good news (along with thousands of other Asian actors).
I didn’t think anything would come of it, but a few weeks later, the producers finally reached out for a callback, then a chemistry read, until one day they said the two words many actors would commit war crimes to hear: screen test. For a week straight, I went to the studio lot for rehearsals, martial arts training, and director sessions. It was exhilarating.
As the day approached, I felt on top of the world. No one was going to take this from me. I had to book this. Deep down, I doubted there would be another opportunity for someone like me for a long time. Sure, Asian markets might be hot right now, but how long would that last before “the powers that be” decided to move on to the next minority group? As a filmmaker, I always championed Asian American representation, but, in that moment, I championed my own individual representation. Fuck everyone else — I was “the best Asian guy.” The role was mine.
I didn’t get the part. When I got the news, I was devastated… for about a day. Then, I quickly recognized my own hypocrisy and was forced to look within. For years, I have spoken on panels, done Q&As at film festivals, and talked about the importance of Asian American representation in the film industry. However, when presented with a life-changing opportunity, my attitude shifted to “Fuck these guys, I’m the best Asian.” This ultimately inspired the question — what do you do when your values are at odds with your ambitions?
This inevitably led me to create “Flavor of the Month,” a dark comedy that explores the absurdities of representation politics in modern-day Hollywood. Viewed through the lens of a Chinese American actor, Harrison Huang, the film dives headfirst into themes of performative activism, virtue signaling, and internalized racial inferiority.
MovieMaker: Watching the portrayal of the casting process in your film, I wondered: Does it feel like Hollywood has this built-in expectation that Asian men have a martial-arts background?
Nathan Xia: Most definitely – I think every minority group in Hollywood has tropes they are expected to fulfill, which is why, as a filmmaker, I see the opportunity, and feel the responsibility, to create characters that subvert archaic archetypes and unlock a deeper humanity within these groups. I’m inspired by the works of filmmakers like Don Josephus Raphael Eblahan, Alexandra Qin, and Pranav Phasin, who skillfully and effectively advocate for underrepresented groups through their art, creating dimension and empathy for their respective communities.
MovieMaker: You’re an actor, writer, and director. What did you want to do first, and how did that lead to the others?
Nathan Xia: I started as a filmmaker, writing and directing short films for many years, but often struggled to cast my projects. Because film is such an autobiographical medium, I inherently imbued my stories with a hyper-specific Chinese-American lens. However, the shortage of East Asian male actors forced me to perform in my own films early on out of necessity, accidentally paving the way for my acting career.
The first time I ever acted in anything was in my semi-viral short film, “Goodnight America,” starring Xolo Maridueña and Jacob Bertrand, which I directed the summer after my freshman year of college. Working with these incredibly generous and encouraging acting prodigies empowered me with a strong introduction to the craft and inspired a hunger to dive deeper.
Shortly after, the pandemic hit, inspiring my debut microbudget feature film, Chasing Sundance, which I wrote, directed, and starred in alongside my dear friend Jacob Staudenmaier. Once again, I was forced to act out of necessity. We shot the film with our two other roommates, Chris Pickering and Owen Markham, on a shoestring $2,000 budget over the span of a 12-day road trip throughout the American West, improvising all of the dialogue from an outline we meticulously crafted the month before.
Chasing Sundance inadvertently served as an actor’s bootcamp for me and eventually led me to cast myself in “Adam’s Song,” the short film that got me signed to a talent agency and kicked off my acting career.
MovieMaker: Can you talk about your musical background and how it informs your films?
Nathan Xia: Like many Asian children, I grew up playing piano and violin, but eventually gave up both to take up guitar and percussion. I had always secretly made music on my own, but it wasn’t until the pandemic (when I felt I had nothing to lose) that I started releasing it into the world. Making music helped me realize there are universal properties across all art forms, and unlocking a deeper understanding of the ebbs and flows of music structure sharpened the emotional journey of my films.
There is no medium more powerful than film when conveying a specific experience, but music reigns supreme in capturing a specific emotion. This is why, as much as I love to talk, I often end my films by shutting up and letting my audience sit with the music and performance to find their own personal catharsis.
