Bowen Yang will always be the moment
A look at the actor, writer, and comedian's career, and how we're truly in the golden age of Bowen Yang
From "Saturday Night Live" to "The Wedding Banquet," Bowen Yang's career is popping off, and we couldn't be more proud.
Photo illustration by Ryan Quan
Words by Andy Crump
It’s the delightful incongruity of Bowen Yang’s career that longtime fans likely knew him first as a voice in their ear, rather than a figure on their screens. He’s gained literal visibility since his early days graphic designing for a home decor company while moonlighting in comedy, notably co-hosting the enduring Los Culturistas podcast with Matt Rogers. Today, Yang has repertory status on Saturday Night Live; he’s fresh off his most recent film, Andrew Ahn’s remake of Ang Lee’s The Wedding Banquet; and he cemented his cinephile street cred with a visit to the Criterion Closet in April.
Obviously, SNL has made the greatest impression on Yang’s trajectory as an actor and as a comedian; landing a gig on that series is the kind of professional giddyup countless young comics dream of, and which came true for Yang in 2018 as the comedy institution rolled into its 44th season. Hiring him as a staff writer meant bringing his love for SNL, dating back to his preteen years, full circle, even though the show historically didn’t love him back: Yang is the first Chinese American cast member in the sketch show’s history (though not its first Asian American cast member—Fred Armisen has Korean ancestry, and Rob Scheider, MAGA politics aside, has Filipino ancestry), and one of only a handful of LGBTQ+ cast members and writers to boot, including Terry Sweeney, Paula Pell, Kate McKinnon, and Danitra Vance. It’s incorrect to say that Yang had no antecedents on SNL, but he’s nonetheless in rare company.
One might frame his hiring as a course correction for a brand that’s remained present, though not always relevant, longer than most shows get to, and as an acknowledgment of said brand’s traditional whiteness. Maybe that argument has some merit, especially in the post-#OscarsSoWhite era, in which popular culture’s awareness of racial disparities in the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences’ voting body makeup led to likewise increased attention on those gaps throughout Hollywood writ large. Networks, studios, and established series are more sensitive to matters of diversity, though that sensitivity often appears more to be motivated by the impulse to cover one’s *ss than any genuine desire for greater inclusivity. (And sensitivities aside, those disparities still linger.)
But emphasizing diversity as an industry goal elides the real value in Yang’s presence on SNL: he’s a superb actor. And yes, he’s hilarious, too, possessed with a comic timing that’s one part sly, and one part coy, coating each joke he tells in layers of personalization, as if he’s telling those jokes just for you, and no one else. Yang’s used that rare gift to carve out a profile rooted in his backgrounds as queer, Asian, and American, rotating between each in his SNL sketches: he’s played the iceberg that sank the Titanic as a touchy diva, the spokesperson for the “Straight Male Friend” app opposite Travis Kelce, catty Chinese Trade Minister Chen Biao, and George Santos; he’s bonded with Simu Liu over “first Asian” plaudits, and revealed his inner hetero by bedding Sydney Sweeney (and Gina Gershon) and Scarlett Johansson (and Gershon again, plus Emily Ratajkowski).
No SNL bit, however, is more demonstrative of Yang’s multifacetedness than his “Weekend Update” appearance in late March 2021, urging viewers to “do more” and “jiayou,” Mandarin for “fuel up,” nearly two weeks after the Atlanta spa mass shootings—of the eight victims, six were Asian American women. “I don’t even want to be doing this ‘Update’ piece,” he snaps, heading into the skit’s conclusion. “I wanted to do my character, Gay Passover Bunny, but it was too smart for the show.” It’s a question mark as to whether the character is real, but entirely believable that Yang would rather not have to speak to the horror of rising anti-Asian racism in the United States at the time (or, all the time)—not because he doesn’t care, but because, as he says moments later, “I’m just a comedian; I don’t have the answers.”
There’s a wariness to his expression and diction in this “Weekend Update” segment that recurs throughout his film roles, especially The Wedding Banquet and 2022’s Fire Island, also directed by Ahn, where he likewise considers his background as a gay Asian American man. Yang’s exasperated and exhausted tone on “Weekend Update” reflects a scene in Fire Island, in which his character, Howie, serves a rebuke to his best friend, Noah (Joel Kim Booster), in a dialogue about his negative self-talk; Howie struggles to accept his appearance, and that struggle cuts a jagged delineating line between his experience as a gay Asian man and Noah’s. Self-esteem emerges as a motif in The Wedding Banquet, too, in which Yang plays Chris, who, like Howie, is hamstrung by doubt, though his worries tie back to his paternal suitability.
Howie and Chris permit Yang to be charming, sweetly sarcastic, and frankly hopeless, as so many Millennial-aged characters in modern rom-coms are. They also let him tap into deeper parts of himself, The Wedding Banquet in particular, a production he connected to through his love of Lee’s original movie, as well as his experience as the queer son of Chinese migrants—which involved conversion therapy in his teenhood. That’s not the sort of story told lightly. The Wedding Banquet isn’t about that experience specifically, though Chris’ ill-advised college fling with his best friend, Angela (Kelly Marie Tran), is well documented from the movie’s start and resurfaces as a character detail throughout; like Yang, his relationship to being in the closet is fraught with recursion.
This may be one reason among many about his gradual development as a seriocomic actor. Yang is an innately funny person, whether he’s the focus of a sketch or its foil. (As the judge in the “Brilliant Lawyer” skit with Andrew Dismukes and Paul Mescal, his ratcheting, aggravated impatience is our ratcheting, aggravated impatience.) But he bonds that sense of humor with willing vulnerability.
Published on June 18, 2025
Words by Andy Crump
Bostonian culture journalist Andy Crump covers movies, beer, music, fatherhood, and way too many other subjects for way too many outlets, perhaps even yours: Paste Magazine, Inverse, The New York Times, Hop Culture, Polygon, and Men's Health, plus more. You can follow him on Bluesky and find his collected work at his personal blog. He’s composed of roughly 65 percent craft beer.
Art by Ryan Quan
Ryan Quan is the Social Media Editor for JoySauce. This queer, half-Chinese, half-Filipino writer and graphic designer loves everything related to music, creative nonfiction, and art. Based in Brooklyn, he spends most of his time dancing to hyperpop and accidentally falling asleep on the subway. Follow him on Instagram at @ryanquans.