I have a calf-length, pewter-coloured skirt that I bought in a sale in my 20s. It looks nothing special, until you put it on, when it transforms into whatever you need it to be. I have worn it to all sorts of events, all year round, and I love it dearly. It is a perfect thing, made all the more spectacular because of its unassuming outer veneer. Actor John Cho is the human equivalent of that skirt: he would dazzle in any setting.
I fear that the first time I saw Cho, 44, was in 1999’s American Pie: he played a drunken party guy, a small role memorable only for helping further to popularise the term “milf”. Next up was the deeply silly Harold & Kumar Go To White Castle, in which two stoners embark on an adventure to satiate their munchies; please believe me when I say this is a classic of American cinema. That little film evolved into a cult trilogy, and Cho just kept on trucking, smiling his boyish smile and speaking in that lovely, gravelly voice. He’s versatile, that warmth tempered with steel (God, he’d be great in a terse family drama).
Cho suffers from poor TV juju – FlashForward and Sleepy Hollow were short-lived, and when Selfie (a modern reimagining of Pygmalion with Cho as romantic lead) was cruelly cancelled, I mourned. Hollywood’s racial prejudices still stand, and Cho has experienced them first hand. “I try to take roles that don’t fall within the parameters of any Asian stereotype,” he said this year, after turning down a role that required an accent.
He has huge support from his fans: witness #StarringJohnCho, in which they Photoshopped his face on to posters for Jurassic Park and The Martian to protest at Hollywood whitewashing. Look, he’s ready, and so are we. Over to you, Hollywood.
