Lulu Wang

When people finance a movie, they have their own ideas and have things they want to change.

But I can definitely say that when I go back to China, I feel very foreign there.

And that is something I've heard from many people who immigrate is that when they go back to their home countries, in a way, they think they're going to be embraced and completely feel like they've come home. This disconcerting thing is when you go back there and you feel more foreign than you ever have.

I grew up in Beijing and Beijing roast duck is my favorite. My mom makes it every year for Christmas Eve. How crispy the skin is is how good a duck restaurant is.

In America especially, if you're Chinese and you work at a restaurant, there's a certain connotation among the Chinese immigrant community: It's the first generation that opens restaurants as a way to survive. You open to support your family so your kids can become doctors and lawyers.

If you think about feudal China during times of the emperors, food was a very elevated art form and you had to be really skilled.

My brother is working to change the perception of Chinese food in America.

If I'd been traveling, I come home, my mom makes noodles.

As the Chinese girl, you don't fit in with anybody. It wasn't a large Chinese-American population, so I didn't grow up having a community of Asian friends. Even when there were Asian people, we sort of existed on our own.

My mother always wanted to play an instrument. Her parents never gave her that. Then it got to a point where I'd been playing for 18 years, and to give it up would make me feel guilty. But my parents also knew that realistically, I wasn't going to become a concert pianist.

I grew up in a household that really encouraged reading and writing. My mother loves philosophy and is constantly reading philosophy and talking to me about different philosophers and different ways of life.

Writing is a type of therapy for me. I'm always trying to break down what happened, and why I felt a certain way.

There's a reason why the cultures of so many Chinatowns around the world in some ways are more Chinese. They've held onto older Chinese rituals, traditions, and symbols in ways that, if you go back to China today, they're not holding on to. They're getting married in white dresses and in churches.

I can't speak for everybody, and I don't want to say it for an entire culture, but for me, coming from an immigrant family, it's very difficult to go find your voice, which requires a lot of failure.

I didn't grow up making coffee. I'm not good at it.

For a while I had a little company and made corporate videos, did some little documentaries, almost, for court cases and mediations.

Protagonists traditionally are active characters.

But you just don't know where any film is going to go, or how it's going to end up. Films so often don't get the love and attention needed to get to the right festival, or find the right distributor, or get seen by the world.

I made 'The Farewell' for me, for my family, and for other immigrant children, or children of immigrants, who feel caught in-between two worlds.

My goal is, no matter what genre or story, I'll find a personal angle. It doesn't have to be autobiographical, or specifically Asian-American. It has to explore a burning question that I have.

I never want to tell a story where I'm lecturing to the audience.

The questions I want to ask will revolve around humans, connection, relationships, family, and stories - what are the stories we tell ourselves and each other?

In my family, and especially when I go back to China, it's always like, prepare your stomach, because it's the way that they express love.

But when you're grieving, when you're going through something difficult, you lose your appetite. You don't want to eat. People are also always commenting on your weight, while at the same time forcing you to eat, so it's very complicated.

As long as I'm making something from my voice, from my perspective there will be Asian American content because I am the storyteller.