Documentary filmmaker Julie Ng on ‘Meer dan Babi Pangang’
by Marilou den Outer
Currently screening in cinemas is the documentary ‘Meer dan Babi Pangang’ by Julie Ng. She grew up in a restaurant-owning family in Brabant; her parents emigrated from Hong Kong in the seventies. Julie found herself caught between two worlds. At school, she was ‘the other’, one of the reasons she preferred to avoid associations with Hong Kong altogether. But when she wanted to start a film project ten years ago, she looked for a subject close to home: the dish babi pangang. What exactly were its origins?
What was intended as a light and airy subject turned into a completely different story during filming. In seventy-one minutes, Julie takes the viewer on a multifaceted and poignant journey into her life, of her parents and essentially that of the Asian community in general. And yes, it is also about the dish babi pangang.
“I am very happy with the result,” says Julie Ng (46) on the phone, when it has just been announced that the film attracted 10,000 visitors within the first fourteen days. But she mainly means in terms of content: that the project took on the form that made it so appealing while running.
Searching for Origins
In search of the origins of the babi pangang dish , she delved into the history of the first Chinese people in the Netherlands and encountered both beautiful and les-than-beautiful stories. Particularly notable are the unique old images of an interview with ‘Aunt Jo’ Kraaijeveld in Katendrecht, Rotterdam, who married Yuen Wah – owner of the first Chinese restaurant in the Netherlands, Chong Kok Low and spoke Cantonese. Incidentally, when she married (in 1947) she immediately lost her Dutch citizenship.
Discrimination was already rampant in those years. There were even plans made to deport Chinese people who were deemed no longer ‘useful’ to the economy.
Julie: “I was deeply shocked by that. Those were things I never heard during my time in school. Then I knew: ‘babi pangang’ is just part of a larger story I want to tell. The producers then persuaded me to appear on camera myself, which wasn’t my initial intention. But by using my personal story and that of my family as a catalyst for the larger narrative, it became more relatable for others. I am very happy about that. And that’s why the project took ten years,” Julie laughs.
Julie Ng and her father (still from the film)
The documentary explores the history of Chinese-Indonesian restaurants and the place they have occupied in Dutch society. They have now even been officially declared intangible cultural heritage , at a time when their numbers are sharply declining. Except in Friesland. An enthusiastic Frisian Deputy explains that Chinese food is part of their rural culture. Voice over from Julie: “So in Friesland , we are just ‘us’ – not strangers”.
We also see the short track speed skater Sjinkie Knegt, who has 1/8 Chinese blood; and a Dutch oil manufacturer who has been supplying Chinese restaurants with cooking oil for decades. In tins with the head of a Chinese lady as a logo.
Ten Years of Filming – ‘One Long Therapy Session’
The footage involving her father and his restaurant runs like a thread through the film. He wants to stop the hard work and is trying to sell the business. For Julie, these were painful memories. The business was always central, finding a babysitter was difficult, so she and her brother had to sleep dutifully under the counter. At school they were ‘the other’ and the ‘birthday song’ Hanky Panky Shanghai in the classroom sounded bewildering and confusing.
Julie Ng and her brother under the defaced window of her parents’ restaurant (still from the film)
“A very uncomfortable split,” says Julie. “I lived in Hong Kong for a while, the place where my parents come from, and I didn’t feel a connection there either. I didn’t belong, I was a ‘ghost girl’ (鬼妹, guimui) there. I was too ‘white’ – not Asian enough”.
“I felt anger for years and expressed my reproaches to my father. I felt abandoned. But through this large film project an all the research, I learned a lot about myself and my Chinese roots. I now feel I have my own Chinese-Dutch identity. And I’m proud of it! Yes in fact, those ten years have been one long therapy session!”
Pats on the Shoulder
The ending makes the cinema-goer a witness to this. Julie: “It was the end of 2024, the last day of filming, and the budget was gone. We had to shoot a scene that had to tie the whole film together, – very tense. We had thought of all kinds of questions to ask my father. At the last moment, I decided to let everything go; it felt like the right time to share with him what has been bothering me all this time. With the risk that he might react coldly. But it went well. I am very happy with it; it has certainly improved the relationship with my father. Now he finally knows why I’ve been so angry all these years.”
Julie’s father (still from the film)
“How my father looks at the film now? I don’t talk to him about it; that’s a bridge too far. But he has seen the film twice, which says a lot. The first time was at the premiere, during the Dutch Film Festival last September. He didn’t know what the film would look like, nor the final scene. I thought, there are two possibilities: either he disinherits me, or he approves. Afterwards he couldn’t speak; he stood there with tears in his eyes. But he gave me a few pats on the shoulder. That meant everything to me”.
Beyond the stereotypes? No, Not Yet
That was the personal part – a success for Julie.
But there is another important goal she has for the film: to reintroduce the Chinese community to the general public “beyond the stereotypes and the stupid clichés”. Hanky Panky was already mentioned. It still surprises Julie: “Chinese people came to the Netherlands more than 100 years ago, and only in 2003 they officially have been recognized as a minority. Bizarre, isn’t it?”
In the minds of some Dutch people, that recognition still isn’t there. During the COVID-19 period, racism flared up again. In the media, things sometimes go very wrong. In 2013 there was judge member Gordon who asked a contestant of Asian descent on Holland’s Got Talent if he was going to sing ‘Nr.39 with lice’.
And in a recent radio interview that Julie Ng had with Ruud de Wild, the conversation derailed in her eyes because it wasn’t about the documentary, but mainly about trivialities regarding babi pangang. It forced her to file a complaint with the NPO (Dutch Public Broadcasting). According to Julie, these events show that her film was truly necessary: “Asians, but also other groups, are often not seen as fellow human beings but as ‘the other’. Very painful and harmful, and it seems as if decency and respect are sometimes hard to find. There is still a lot of work to be done”.
Julie remains actively involved with the Meer dan Babi Pangang Foundation, which aims to keep Chinese-Indonesian heritage in the spotlight. For example, in collaboration with Bersama Magazine, a cooking glossy has been released featuring 88 dishes from Chinese-Indonesian cuisine, including classics from Julie’s father’s restaurant.
The documentary Meer dan Babi Pangang is distributed by Periscope Film.
Check Filmladder.nl where the documentary is playing.
The portrait photo of Julie Ng (at the top of the article) was taken by photographer Jimena Gauna
