by EUGENE YI
On a recent night in New York City, the 2012 U.S. women’s table tennis team hid in plain sight at SPiN, a sprawling subterranean lair devoted to the sport, complete with pop music, seasonal brews and blacklight.
“It’s like Twilight meets ping pong,” said director Mina T. Son, sharing a wide grin with her fellow director Sara Newens.
Their first film, Top Spin, a documentary about teenage phenoms trying to make the 2012 Olympic team, had its world premiere on Nov. 15, as part of DOC NYC, the country’s largest documentary festival. The screening had gone well, with the sellout crowd oohing and aahing at the travails of the main characters as they strived to make the cut. And at SPiN, well-wishers and revelers hung about for the evening’s main event: a chance to rally against an Olympian. Or, as Thom Powers, the creative director of DOC NYC, had noted earlier that evening, “Your chance to be humiliated.”
Lily Zhang, 2012 Olympian. Photo courtesy of Sara Newens.
The premiere marked the end of a long road for Son and Newens, who met as students at Stanford University’s master’s program in documentary filmmaking. They had made a short film about Ariel Hsing, a Bay Area-based ping pong prodigy, and the feature film version grew to cover Hsing, her frenemy Lily Zhang and Michael Landers, who had won the U.S. men’s national singles table tennis championship when he was 15.
Michael Landers, one of the stars of Top Spin. Photo courtesy of Sara Newens.
Documentary filmmaking is, among other things, an exercise in mobilization. Funds must be raised either from institutional donors or through crowdfunding. A project like Top Spin can be at a dis- advantage because it doesn’t have the social issues angle that funders favor. Indeed, an anticipated “call to action” is a part of many an application for funding. So Son and Newens relied more heavily on Kickstarter.
“Kickstarter is such a great tool, not only because it helps you raise much needed funds to actually make your film, but it also forces you to identify and find audiences for your film early on,” said Son, via email. The directors knew they wanted to reach out to Asian Americans and table tennis fans, but in the age of the easily ignored email blast, they knew they needed to do more to keep people engaged. They went beyond the usual efforts, even hosting a live two-day webcast as one deadline approached and attempting to stay awake for the final 24 hours and holding a “ping pong strike,” playing on Newens’ dining room table for one hour straight until they reached a cer- tain number of donations. Through two rounds with Kickstarter, the team raised more than $100,000 to shoot and finish their film.
“I think one of the main reasons we were successful was because we worked really, really hard. It was our full-time job,” said Son.
Ariel Hsing demonstrates her skills. Photo courtesy of Joshua Simpson.
In addition to being a sports documentary, Top Spin turned out to be something of an Asian American film as well. China’s dominance in the sport is of course widely known; the country has claimed 47 of the 88 Olympic medals since the sport was introduced in 1988 (South Korea ranks second, with 18). But interest in the sport has spread with China’ s emigrants to places like the Bay Area, home for Zhang’s and Hsing’s families. Given that two of three main characters are Asian American, and that table tennis is known to be dominated by Asian countries, the di- rectors risked marginalizing themselves by making a film “just” about race.
“One thing I’m very proud of is that our film shows a range in the Asian American experience,” said Son, who is Korean American. “If you look at Ariel [Hsing] and Lily [Zhang], even though they are both Chinese American, they have very different personalities, and their families also have different parenting philosophies.” Hsing’ s father proudly embraces the mantle of tiger parent, while Zhang’s parents evince a more laid-back approach.
Back at SPiN, the Olympians Hsing and Zhang, joined by teammate Erica Wu—who’d left quite an impression in her few appearances in the film with her bold match-day fashion choices—noshed on sliders and French fries, waiting to demonstrate for the crowd. Wu was the first to take on the pair. The game quickly grew so intense, Hsing and Zhang shed their respective heels and wedges.
Top Spin co-directors Mina Son (left) and Sara Newens (right) at the party following the world premiere of their film in NYC. Photo courtesy of Joshua Simpson.
But the Olympians soon moved on to facing the amateurs in the crowd, players of wildly divergent abilities. One woman couldn’t return a single ball, earning an impromptu tutorial on the basics from Hsing. Others tried too hard, hoping to be able to tell the tale of having scored a point on an Olympian, which led to a lot of balls smashed exuberantly into the net. Occasionally, a more proficient player would start a rally that found some rhythm, the ball going back and forth at least a few dozen times.
Players volley at the after party. Photo courtesy of Joshua Simpson.
The years of training showed in the bobbing footwork and tight swings of the Olympians as they appeared to gesture, not swing, with their paddles. Their motions had gained a certain poetry in its eerie economy. A tweener girl swiveled her head back and forth to try and keep up. Spectators watched spellbound, ignoring the soft fusillade of errant balls at their feet.
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Featured photo courtesy of Sara Newens.
