‘It was very comforting to be childlike in my love for something’: Beef star Joseph Lee on the Netflix show’s nuanced portrayal of Asian-American men
- Joseph Lee, ‘hot dad’ sculptor George Nakai in Beef, says Netflix show is that rare one where Asian-Americans aren’t ‘projections of the mainstream white gaze’
- He tells the Post he is happy to be in a show about Asian-Americans where he doesn’t have to overperform, and talks about his own work as an artist
Actor Joseph Lee could not be more different from George “Joji” Nakai, the character he plays in dark-comedy drama series Beef on Netflix.
Nakai is a talentless sculptor born into art-world nepotism, and a stay-at-home husband brimming with toxic positivity. Yet they share a similar kind of lifestyle.
“I just live my life. My wife and I generally have a very pleasant, normal, quiet lifestyle. The first thing we do in the morning is to share a cup of coffee or tea, talk about how grateful we are and go for a walk,” Lee tells the Post.
“The prep work [for the series] was just continuing to engage and connect with the person I love most, which is my wife.”
There are days where I will sit in front of a blank canvas for hours and not even put down a stroke, just staring mindlessly into a canvas, but it’s all part of the process
The 35-year-old actor and painter can relate to certain traits of his character, though. “George is somebody that’s very much childlike in his purity for the things that he loves, and I wanted to tap into that,” he says.
“As men, we sometimes make it difficult for ourselves to enjoy things, projecting [being] ‘masculine’ or trying to be cool.
“So, for me, it was very comforting to just kind of release all those impulses and to just be childlike in my love for something, without self-judgment and caring for anything else.”
Since its release on April 6, Beef has dominated the screens and social media feeds of people in Asian communities around the world.
Created by Lee Sung-jin, who co-directed the series with Hikari and Jake Schreier, Beef tells the story of two strangers, Danny Cho (Steven Yeun) and Amy Lau (Ali Wong) whose lives intertwine in the most unexpected, chaotic, yet oddly poetic ways. George is Amy’s good-for-nothing husband.
Beef: Steven Yeun, Ali Wong in sublime Netflix dark comedy series
What makes the show groundbreaking is its telling of nuanced Asian-American stories that are not forced nor caricatured; and its ability to show “different shades of what Asian-American masculinity can be”, as Lee puts it.
“When I hear the question, ‘How does it feel to be an Asian-American man’, the answer is often a projection of the mainstream white gaze.
“In terms of how Asian-American men are portrayed on screen, it’s always based upon a certain projection that’s not ours,” he explains.
“I know what it feels like to be an Asian-American man, and if I don’t, I’m figuring it out.
“The refreshing thing about Beef is that we’re trying to find those answers by being more in tune with ourselves and without overperforming. The more authentic we can be, the better we can answer this question in the long run.”
Like his character, Lee devotes much of his time to artistic expression; and, much like George’s Zen attitude to life, Lee’s approach to his art is more stream-of-consciousness than active, deliberate planning.
“I like to go into my studio every day, sit in front of the canvas and just work,” Lee says.
“There are days where I will sit in front of a blank canvas for hours and not even put down a stroke, just staring mindlessly into a canvas, but it’s all part of the process and will almost always lead to something.”
But that is where the similarities with George end. Lee is an artist of many talents and works hard for his success.
Born Lee Joe-yun in the southwestern US state of Arizona and growing up in Indiana in the Midwest, Lee was raised in environments where there were few people of colour.
After studying political science at Indiana’s Purdue University with a minor in history, Lee moved to Los Angeles about 12 years ago to pursue a career in acting. Instead of instant fame and glory, he found a passion for art and now paints abstract impressionist faces.
“I’ve always had a curiosity about people. I’m the type to enter a room and quietly sit in the corner observing others,” Lee says. “I think a lot of that comes from growing up in a very small town and being fascinated by the outside world.”
As for the style of his painting, Lee recalls his earlier work being “very technical, realistic faces” and gives credit to a “weird period” some years ago when he acted in the 2018 Korean romance drama series Miracle That We Met, which he was glad about in that he was able to “finally tell my mum something that she would know”.
“[While shooting the show in Korea,] I was going through an internal, emotional conflict of having grown up in the Midwest, where I struggled with my cultural identity, and being in Korea where, yet again, I felt this sense of not belonging to my surroundings.
“It was my continual search for home and what it means to me.
“This poured out into my ambiguous style. I started to strip away all the things that I thought I knew about myself – my eyes, my nose, all my features. I wanted to channel how I felt, which was a lot of confusion and this sense of not knowing oneself.”
For its artistic director, 2023 Gwangju Biennale art show is a homecoming
Nonetheless, he loved living in South Korea. “I want to retire and die in Korea. It is such a place of healing for me and my family,” Lee says.
“Anytime I’m there, there’s this sense of renewal. I feel healthier, I’m eating better, and I feel so grounded. I’m doing all the things my ancestors were doing.”
“I’m planning on having my first art exhibition over there next year. I am such a big fan of Korean art, and the artist community there is so inspiring to me,” he adds.
It may not seem like it, but to Lee, his artistic practice is not dissimilar to his acting career. Aside from seeing both as “introspective, internalised work”, he thrives in the delicate balance between the two and being able to express himself diversely.
“[My art] serves a different purpose than my acting; I can be selfish with my own time, needs and emotions.
“The acting side is the perfect counterbalance to that, where it brings a lot of humility in knowing the importance of collaborating with people and engaging with creative minds,” he says.
“I feel like at this point in my life, at 35, this is what the universe has blessed me with. I need both aspects to balance each other out and for me to feel creatively whole.”
