For a long time, I'd been blissfully unaware of the fame I shared with an 18th-century American leader. She was known as Mother Ann Lee, and her followers believed that celibacy was a core part of their faith. When news broke of a new musical called The Testament of Ann Lee, starring Amanda Seyfried, my friend Matt texted me to say that he'd heard the film title was dedicated to me. I thought it was hilarious at first.
The truth is, having a name that's shared by more than 100 million people in Asia isn't uncommon. But when you're mentioned in a prestigious Hollywood film, it's a different story altogether. The Testament of Ann Lee turned out to be a sweeping musical that follows the life of Mother Ann Lee as she builds her Shaker community from scratch.
When I attended the preview screening and Q&A session with Seyfried and director Mona Fastvold, I couldn't help but feel a sense of pride knowing that my name was plastered across the screen behind them in giant letters. It's not often that you get to see your name associated with such grand ambition and energy.
I know what it's like to be teased about sharing a name with someone else, especially when people think they're talking to another celebrity altogether. I've had people ask me if I'm Ang Lee, the Taiwanese director who made Brokeback Mountain, or if I'm some other notable figure with a similar name.
But The Testament of Ann Lee was different. It was a film that transported you to 18th-century America, with its animalistic fervour and thundering dance sequences. Amanda Seyfried brought Mother Ann Lee to life in a way that was both captivating and unsettling at the same time.
As for me, well, I'm not sure if sharing my name with this iconic figure will spur me on to greater things. But I do know that it's given me a new sense of purpose and identity. And who knows? Maybe I'll even find my own path to glory β something Mother Ann Lee would have surely approved of.
I couldn't help but wonder, though, what it's like for other people out there with the same name as famous figures. Are they teased about it? Do they feel pressure to live up to their namesakes' achievements? And how do they navigate a lifetime of jokes and comments about being "the one" or "that person"?
These are questions I'll have to ponder for a while longer, but for now, I'm just happy to see my name in lights β even if it's not entirely me shining through.
The truth is, having a name that's shared by more than 100 million people in Asia isn't uncommon. But when you're mentioned in a prestigious Hollywood film, it's a different story altogether. The Testament of Ann Lee turned out to be a sweeping musical that follows the life of Mother Ann Lee as she builds her Shaker community from scratch.
When I attended the preview screening and Q&A session with Seyfried and director Mona Fastvold, I couldn't help but feel a sense of pride knowing that my name was plastered across the screen behind them in giant letters. It's not often that you get to see your name associated with such grand ambition and energy.
I know what it's like to be teased about sharing a name with someone else, especially when people think they're talking to another celebrity altogether. I've had people ask me if I'm Ang Lee, the Taiwanese director who made Brokeback Mountain, or if I'm some other notable figure with a similar name.
But The Testament of Ann Lee was different. It was a film that transported you to 18th-century America, with its animalistic fervour and thundering dance sequences. Amanda Seyfried brought Mother Ann Lee to life in a way that was both captivating and unsettling at the same time.
As for me, well, I'm not sure if sharing my name with this iconic figure will spur me on to greater things. But I do know that it's given me a new sense of purpose and identity. And who knows? Maybe I'll even find my own path to glory β something Mother Ann Lee would have surely approved of.
I couldn't help but wonder, though, what it's like for other people out there with the same name as famous figures. Are they teased about it? Do they feel pressure to live up to their namesakes' achievements? And how do they navigate a lifetime of jokes and comments about being "the one" or "that person"?
These are questions I'll have to ponder for a while longer, but for now, I'm just happy to see my name in lights β even if it's not entirely me shining through.