than ever， and if anyone knows about fitting in， it’s Ang Lee. As varied and contrasting as the director’s films have been， his personal life has brought even more unexpected turns. Ang Lee could be the poster child for an artist’s struggles for approval and acceptance.
　　Lee’s parents left Chinese mainland for Taiwan in 1950， and Lee left for the United States in the early 1980s to attend college， resulting in none of the three places feeling like home. A quick glance at the director’s work shows that he hasn’t found a genre he can call home either. Lee cites “curiosity” as the primary reason he chooses a project， and his filmography is even more of a kaleidoscope than his personal history.
　　“Making those movies， somehow I feel more belonging. Like the story belonged to me， and I belonged to the world，” remarked Lee in a 2009 LA Times interview after directing perhaps the most unexpected film of his career， Taking Woodstock. Directors who tend to focus on rebels and social outcasts are not necessarily unique in Hollywood， but wayward Lee’s homelessness is as deeply rooted in the man himself as anything else. Ironically， Lee first discovered communist-themed literature that shaped much of China’s 20th-Century development only after arriving in the United States in the early 1980s because such books were banned in Taiwan. “That turned my whole belief system upside down， and I crawled out， in a sense， lost，” continued Lee. “That had a big impact on me.”
　　And for such an artist， returning to China felt like being freed from the constraints of Hollywood. “Film-language wise it’s more free. It’s more artistic in China because we don’t have a big film industry like Americans. So， the viewing habits， the distribution， the response is more free，” remarked Lee.


　　A two-time Best Director Oscar winner feeling like an outsid-er in Hollywood shouldn’t come as a surprise considering the film industry’s notorious historical marginalization of Asians. In the era that Lee’s parents were experiencing the horrors of war firsthand， white American comedian Mickey Rooney was offensively portraying Holly Golightly’s Japanese landlord as the buck-toothed comic relief in the mainstream， acclaimed film Breakfast at Tiffany’s. Even The Good Earth， American author Pearl S. Buck’s 1931 best-selling China-themed magnum opus which secured her 1938 Nobel Prize in literature， was cast with all white actors when it was adapted into a successful 1937 film. The highly influential novel has been credited with inspiring American acceptance of China as an ally in World War II， yet in pre-war Hollywood， no one of Chinese heritage was involved with the film. Despite the advancements in racial sensitivity and acceptance since the war， 21st-Century American Asian actors are still well aware of the limited demand for their services in Hollywood – that is unless they know kung fu. 　　Throughout the final decade of last century and the first of the new， Ang Lee has been blazing trails. Volumes of progress and artistic and cultural exchange that could have taken centuries were accelerated into two short decades by the very existence and effort of one human so defined by multiculturalism. Or perhaps， like so many other of the world’s greatest success stories， he was just in the right place at the right time. Lee certainly gained an advantage by wedding a fellow Taiwanese classmate he met in America who paid the bills as a molecular biologist and remained supportive of her husband’s ambitions while he took care of the kids. Already breaking the cultural mold， Lee’s wife continued her support for almost a decade before any investment in Ang Lee would pay off. One might imagine what Lee’s father thought of the situation， but it was he who pushed Lee to continue his career when Ang was contemplating retirement after the failings of Hulk， which was his biggest budget film at the time， and flopped resoundingly despite major anticipation. Any artist would be envious of such a solid support network from family. Ang Lee’s first three feature films（all in Chinese） testify to his feeling of acceptance from family as much as anything. The naturalized American’s feelings of homelessness are a sort of manifestation of the globalization era， yet his “outsider” persona gifts the director with singular insight into universal emotions that transcend nations and cultures. Life of Pi， his highest-grossing film to date， earned the vast majority of its box office outside of the United States. And its popularity in India and China – two of the most coveted emerging markets – came as a surprise to no one.






　　In China， the film was released solely in 3D， a move inspired by Avatar’s record-setting success in China. Due to Avatar’s incredible popularity， hundreds of new 3D screens were constructed during the film’s Chinese run. Also， Life of Pi is extremely family-friendly， a trait that helped it gain acceptance even by conservative and traditional moviegoers and regulators. The rarity of such wholesome fare attracting an Oscar nomination was not lost for cinephiles who will note that the last film to nab the Best Director Oscar without a PG-13 or R rating was Out of Africa in 1985. Opposite Life of Pi， Lee’s least family-friendly film， Lust， Caution， a sexually-charged spy thriller based in WWII Shanghai， is one of his most critically acclaimed， but couldn’t be considered a box office success by any stretch of the imagination in either China or the U.S. Based on a novel by an Indian author， Life of Pi was produced by American companies， and shot in Taiwan， India， and Montreal， Canada. The entire project’s multinational flavor is a fitting culmination of a directing career such as his. Lee’s first three films are known as the “Father Knows Best” trilogy by fans， and Lee’s next – his breakthrough – couldn’t contrast them more culturally： Sense and Sensibility （1995）， an adaptation of Victorian literature. Yet， similarities in tone provide the earliest striking evidence of Lee’s cinematic voice. Ang Lee didn’t return to any Chinese subject matter for his next three films， but then Crouching Tiger， Hidden Dragon （2000） became one of the most influential films of the new century， ushering in an era of unprecedented cultural exchange between the United States and China. Previously， Hong Kong had been almost entirely responsible for any Chinese film to win any sort of American distribution， and Crouching Tiger created more Western interest in Chinese film than ever before. Big budget Chinese films such as Hero starring Jet Li， which had been filmed years earlier， suddenly saw enough demand in the West to earn distribution following Lee’s Best Foreign-language Film Oscar winner.
　　Within the context of such a diverse 20-year career， Brokeback Mountain， the film that earned Ang Lee his first Best Director Oscar， should almost come as expected.
　　If there is one place the world’s two largest economies， the United States and China， can connect， it’s movies， and Ang Lee has proven one of the industry’s most influential conduits. Today， more and more American actors and other cinematic professionals are working in China’s film industry， and vice versa， and investors in joint projects are only rewarded with greater access to larger markets. Globalization has brought myriad challenges and problems， but a cultural golden age is peeking above the horizon.