You could think of its as something akin to “Sex and the City” by way of “Four Weddings and a Funeral” with a fuller body, greater nuance and a twist of zest.
Rom-com and culture-clash plot conventions are universal, so why not a PG-rated “Sex and the City” meets “The Devil Wears Prada,” but stocked with solid Asian and Asian-American actors.
On the surface, Crazy Rich Asians and Sex and the City couldn’t be more different but, if you dig deep enough into their respective DNA’s, there’s a common thread: the love of conspicuous consumption.
Like many of its genre mates, from Pretty Woman to Sex and the City to, yeah, even Fifty Shades, Crazy Rich Asians is lifestyle porn, and though it takes a few vague stabs at the nobility of self-enforced poverty, it’s really about Rachel proving herself worthy of joining this rarefied clique, where everyone is beautiful, bachelor parties in international waters are the norm, and glamorous shopping expeditions are but a private helicopter ride away.
So when I came across Kevin Kwan’s novel Crazy Rich Asians back in 2013, I knew it could become a dazzling, Asian Sex and the City type film, and began dreaming of its cinematic potential.