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On a chilly December evening, the sounds of Lucy Liu<\/strong><\/a>\u2019s filmography<\/a> echoed through an upper Manhattan cineplex. Liu had arrived for a post-screening Q&A in support of her new movie, Rosemead,<\/em> only to hear dialogue from Kill Bill: The Whole Bloody Affair<\/em><\/a> (a special project that combines parts one and two of Quentin Tarantino<\/strong>\u2019s revenge thriller) emanating from a nearby theater. \u201cI couldn\u2019t believe it. I just happened to walk by, and I heard what sounded like my voice,\u201d Liu tells Vanity Fair.<\/em> \u201cI walked over and it was that scene<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>\n You know the one. Liu and Uma Thurman<\/strong> play rival sword-wielding assassins who battle to the former\u2019s death in a snow-covered, blood-soaked blowout. It is one of many impressive moments from Liu\u2019s lengthy career, which has seen her turn a successful late-\u201990s run on Ally McBeal<\/em> into a diverse oeuvre of action (two Charlie\u2019s Angels<\/em> movies, two Kill Bill<\/em> films), intrigue (seven seasons of the network whodunnit Elementary<\/em>), and romance (Netflix\u2019s Glen Powell<\/strong> springboard, Set It Up<\/em>). In 2000 she became the first Asian woman to ever host Saturday Night Live,<\/em> and nearly two decades later, Liu became only the second Asian American actress to receive a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, following in the footsteps of Chinese American actress Anna May Wong<\/a>, one of the few Asian performers to break through in Hollywood\u2019s golden age.<\/p>\n Liu in Kill Bill<\/em>, 2003.<\/span>\u00a9 Miramax\/Everett Collection.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/figure>\n Liu is one of the most recognizable Asian women in film history, but grows weary when reminded of it. \u201cI would love to get rid of the hyphenates. I would really love to just be an artist. I find it really strange that I have to have a title before my craft. I think it\u2019s very limiting,\u201d she says. \u201cI don\u2019t know that anyone\u2019s saying, \u2018This is an Australian actress\u2019 or \u2018This is an English-slash-Spanish [actor].\u2019 It\u2019s kind of like if you\u2019ve been attached to somebody, and then you have to carry their last name because you were married to them.\u201d<\/p>\n As Liu, now age 57, explains: \u201cI find it to be very imprisoning. Not for me, but for them. Because I don\u2019t walk around looking at myself and saying it out loud. I\u2019m proud of who I am, but I don\u2019t need to always label myself as something.\u201d<\/p>\n Liu\u2019s recent double feature seems to have paid off: Rosemead<\/em> generated more than $50,000 in ticket sales<\/a> from a single venue during that aforementioned weekend, netting one of the biggest per-theater openings of last year. Based on a 2017 Los Angeles Times<\/em> column<\/a> by Frank Shyong,<\/strong> the film dramatizes the tragic true story of a single Taiwanese American mother named Irene, who secretly undergoes cancer treatment while navigating her teenage son Joe\u2019s (Lawrence Shou<\/strong>) recent schizophrenia diagnosis. Rosemead,<\/em> which she also produced, marks a rare dramatic leading role for Liu, who adopted a Mandarin accent and shrunken physical posture to play a terminally ill Irene.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n