Reviewer Peter Dabbene Interviews Loo Hui Phang, Author of Erased
“Maximus Wyld is my invention, but as many authors say: when your character begins to exist on his own, then you’re ready to write his story. That’s how I work. I have to create my characters and come to believe in their existence, ’feel’ them as existing people, see them move, hear the timbre of their voices.’’ —Loo Hui Phang
Like the Big Five book publishers, the motion picture industry also has a fivesome of megapowerful companies—Universal, Paramount, Warner Bros., Disney, and Sony—controlling up to 85 percent of box office revenue. And like book publishing, those movie studios have always been very, very careful to protect their market share and project a noncontroversial, upstanding public image. In other words, they have done just about whatever it takes to stay in public favor, ethics and fair play be damned.
Take today’s topic: the whitewashing of cinema, whereby actors of color are forgotten in the annals of film history, never listed in credits in the first place, suffered from blatant racial bias that kept them from major roles, or subject to other forms of erasure. Loo Hui Phang is with us to talk about her newly released Erased: An Actor of Color’s Journey through the Heyday of Hollywood, which earned a marquee-worthy review from Peter Dabbene in the July/August issue of Foreword.
Peter, lead the way.
Despite his roles in many classic films, I had never heard of Maximus Wyld until I came across Erased. How did you first learn about him, and what was it about his story that captured your interest?
I’m delighted that you liked Maximus Wyld’s story and believed in it. The majority of readers also thought Maximus Wyld really existed, even journalists and film specialists. But this story is fiction, Maximus Wyld never existed. I wanted to tell the story of the process of invisibilization in Hollywood and the way in which actors of color were erased from the history of cinema. I wanted to tell the story of a mixed-race actor of diverse origins (Native American, Black, Chinese, Mexican) who would represent all the ethnic minorities in the United States. I did a lot of research and never found such an actor with a major career. Perhaps he existed and was erased?
Hollywood is full of forgotten stars. I decided to invent the character of Maximus Wyld in order to explore the history of Hollywood from the angle of segregation. I spent several years—almost ten years—researching and documenting the story in order to make it as accurate as possible. Maximus is an invention, but everything else is true, the opinions and words of the people who appear in Erased are true and have been taken from biographies and archives. Hollywood is fiction, and I thought that creating a lie about a lie produces a truth. The most important thing for me was to tell the truth about actors of color in Hollywood and the injustice they suffered.
There’s a lot of Hollywood history in Erased, and it’s fascinating the way famous figures weave in and out of Wyld’s life. Some of their stories are familiar touchstones, while others are as revelatory as Wyld’s own. Along with your reading of the books listed in the bibliography, I get the sense that you watched a lot of old movies during the creation of this graphic novel. How long did the project take, from start to finish?
From the moment Hugues Micol and I decided to tell a story set in Hollywood to the publication of the book, ten years have passed. I wanted to create an actor who would have been a star in some of Hollywood’s greatest films, a flamboyant and fascinating character. He would have left his mark on the history of cinema, and his disappearance would have made him a kind of ghost haunting Hollywood. I was inspired by several great actors and actresses of color whose careers were shattered by racial prejudice: Lena Horne, Paul Robeson, Sessue Hayakawa, Anna May Wong … These stars have been almost completely forgotten, and it would not be surprising to rediscover other talented actors and actresses who have passed into obscurity. For me, Maximus does justice to all these stars of color, whatever their origins. It’s a symbol. The Life of Maximus takes up several episodes in the lives of these actors and actresses: the big role promised by MGM that never arrived (Lena Horne with Show Boat), persecution and McCarthyism (Paul Robeson), devaluing secondary roles …
I began by constructing Maximus’ filmography. I wanted all the films in which he played to tell the story of erasure, ghosts, and concealment, as if his tragedy had already been foretold. That was about fifty movies. I looked at all these films and wondered whether a character of color might have appeared, and what scenes might have been written and then cut. It’s a very interesting exercise for a screenwriter! There are always loopholes in the scenarios, you can always slip in extra scenes and characters. From this filmography, I was able to establish a chronology of Maximus’ life, the evolution of his career and his thoughts. I fed all this with the extensive documentation I’d accumulated, and the little-known but captivating stories I’d found.
It’s notable that in your book’s bibliography, most of the books listed seem to focus on other Hollywood figures (Frank Capra, John Ford, Cary Grant, Paul Robeson, Ava Gardner), rather than Wyld. Is Erased, to your knowledge, the first book to focus on Maximus Wyld himself? How much of Wyld’s personality and manner did you feel confident about depicting in the book, and how much was, by necessity, aided by your own creativity?
By now you know that Maximus Wyld doesn’t exist. Let me explain how I made him real.
Maximus Wyld is my invention, but as many authors say: when your character begins to exist on his own, then you’re ready to write his story. That’s how I work. I have to create my characters and come to believe in their existence, “feel” them as existing people, see them move, hear the timbre of their voices. Then readers, in turn, can believe in them.
To bring Maximus to life, I infused his character with the charisma of existing people: Yul Brynner, Paul Robeson, Sidney Poitier, and my grandfather. My maternal grandfather was Vietnamese but, mysteriously, seemed to have African blood. He looked like an Asian-African half-breed. He was very handsome, very charismatic. Thinking about him helped me create Maximus.
The art style of Hugues Micol suits the subject matter perfectly, a haunting blend of realistic, identifiable faces and settings, along with imaginative, even surreal compositions. How did you come into contact and begin working on the project? Did you offer detailed suggestions as to how the artwork should look, or did you mostly allow Hugues wide latitude to interpret the story?
Hugues Micol and I had already done a book together in 2005. We know each other well and I admire his work. I know how he works and how I have to describe the images to him to conjure up powerful visions in his mind. All my scripts are very written and descriptive. I know exactly what I want to see in the picture. But depending on the artist, the working method can be different. In Erased, everything you see is described in my script. But for Hugues to be able to inject a great deal of personal creativity, I have to structure the story and its visual representation well, while at the same time leaving Hugues plenty of freedom. Since I know what Hugues likes to draw, all I have to do is include these elements in the story, creating cocktails of images to trigger his desire to draw. For example, in the first scene of the book, I know that if I write the words “desert, Indians, Vertigo, cowboys, movie sets”, he’ll want to draw this baroque sequence.
One of the most tantalizing aspects of your book is its mentioning of scenes and even complete films that have been lost to history, many because of calculated destruction. It’s a reminder that even in this age of digital recordkeeping, not everything cinematic has been preserved. If you could pluck one “lost” film or scene to restore from the annals of Hollywood history, what would it be, and why?
These stories of erasure and loss in cinema are tragic and fascinating. They constantly stimulate our imagination. The sequence I’d like to see resurrected is the full version of the nightmare created by Salvador Dali in Spellbound. This magnificent sequence originally lasted twenty minutes. Ingrid Bergman mentioned it in a biography. David O. Selznick shortened the scene to a few minutes. We no longer have any trace of this complete sequence. Perhaps it will resurface one day?
Maximus Wyld’s story is an injustice waiting to be corrected. Is there any organization that has taken up the cause of getting Wyld’s name and credits restored?
I’d dream to see the creation of a special commission to rehabilitate actors of color who have been forgotten by the history of cinema and whose names don’t even appear in the credits. In France, a major exhibition was held at the Musée d’Orsay in 2019, “The Black Model.” This exhibition, created by Denis Murrell, was premiered at Columbia University’s Wallach Art Gallery under the title “Posing Modernity: The Black Model from Manet and Matisse to Today.” Denise Murrell investigated the identity of the anonymous Black models posing in paintings by Géricault, Manet, Cézanne … She was able to find their names and retrace their lives. Giving these Black models a name and an identity changed their status: from objects, they became human persons. By becoming people in their own right and regaining their dignity, they became essential players in the history of art. I’d like to see the same thing happen in the history of cinema: that all people of color who have been exploited, who have had their image stolen from them, cease to be objects and become human beings once again.
Peter Dabbene
