The box office record-breaking success of “Wicked” is once again proving the crowd-pleasing chops of Jon M. Chu, who had previously demonstrated them via the massive success of a certain swanky romantic comedy to which he was connected long before becoming its director. Based on the eponymous novel by Kevin Kwan, 2018’s “Crazy Rich Asians” topped the box office in its release week and went on to gross over $239 million worldwide on a $30 million budget. It’s safe to say that it’s a movie with a lot of fans.

Thankfully, there are several other films you can queue up if you count yourself as one of those fans. Whether you’re drawn to the perfectly executed rom-com plotting, to the Asian American representation, to the themes of familial displacement and culture clash between North America and Asia, to the snarky sense of humor, or to the ritz and sumptuousness of the wedding at the center of the plot, we’ve compiled a list of 12 great movies that will offer similar delights to those that make “Crazy Rich Asians” such beloved.

Fans of the goofy, comedic side of “Crazy Rich Asians” will find plenty to love in 2023’s “Joy Ride.” For starters, the film was directed by Adele Lim, who co-penned the screenplay for “Crazy Rich Asians” as well as the one for Disney’s “Raya and the Last Dragon.” “Joy Ride,” which was scripted by Cherry Chevapravatdumrong and Teresa Hsiao from a story they wrote with Lim, features plenty of the kind of comedic pep and proclivity for culture-clash humor that Lim displayed in “Crazy Rich Asians,” but turned all the way up to 11 in a wholly different genre context: Instead of a romantic dramedy with dramatic undertones, “Joy Ride” is an ultra-raunchy comedy.

Ashley Park and Sherry Cola star as Audrey and Lolo, two childhood best friends who take a trip to China, where Audrey was born before being adopted by white parents. Although the trip has serious business aims for the overachieving Audrey, their odyssey soon devolves into an utter pandemonium of sex, drugs, and existential reflection as Audrey ends up on the trail of her birth mother; joined by Audrey’s high-strung actress friend Kat (Stephanie Hsu) and Lolo’s outcast cousin Deadeye (Sabrina Wu), the women find themselves in a series of increasingly absurd and increasingly hilarious situations, all laced with genuinely touching storytelling about the complexities of cultural identity and lifelong friendship.

When “Crazy Rich Asians” was released in 2018, it marked a shocking milestone: It was the first non-period film from a major Hollywood studio to feature a predominantly Asian cast in 25 years. Things have gotten significantly better for Asian representation in mainstream American film since then, but that doesn’t negate the eminence and importance of the previous film to have broken that glass ceiling: 1993’s “The Joy Luck Club.”

Directed by Wayne Wang, a Chinese-American indie luminary who helped carve out a hitherto-nonexistent space for Asian-American film in the 1980s with titles like “Chan Is Missing” and “Dim Sum: A Little Bit of Heart,” “The Joy Luck Club” is one of the crowning achievements of 1990s Hollywood cinema. It’s a sprawling, sensitive, enormously touching, and perceptive drama about the relationships between four elderly Chinese immigrant women in San Francisco and their daughters, with a positively jaw-dropping cast in tow: Lisa Lu, Tsai Chin, Kieu Chinh, and France Nuyen as the moms, and Rosalind Chao, Tamlyn Tomita, Ming-Na Wen, and Lauren Tom as their respective children. 

Unencumbered by the typical devices of immigrant stories, the film makes space for all the intricacies of its intergenerational dynamic, in a way that will surely please those who took to “Crazy Rich Asians'” fraught family story. Be advised, though: In addition to being a masterpiece, it’s an absolute tear-jerker.

Long before he was helming Hollywood films, collecting Oscars, and conducting go-for-broke technical experiments in filmmaking at 120 frames per second, Ang Lee got his start in his native Taiwan with a series of small-scale yet lushly rendered and passionately imagined comedy-drama films, all reckoning with the status of traditional Taiwanese families in the late 20th century. The second of these films, 1993’s “The Wedding Banquet,” was the first to push Lee into rarefied echelons of international recognition, earning the Berlinale Golden Bear and an Oscar nomination for best foreign language film. Much like “Crazy Rich Asians,” it’s a vivid family portrait with cross-continental wedding attendance as the catalyst — but, in “The Wedding Banquet,” the premise is even more high-concept.

The movie stars Winston Chao as Wai-Tung, a Taiwanese man living with his boyfriend Simon (Mitchell Lichtenstein) in Manhattan, who agrees to marry his Chinese tenant Wei-Wei (May Chin) to help her get a green card and get his parents off his back about finding a wife. As it happens, Wai-Tung’s parents (Gua Ah-leh and Lung Sihung), who don’t know that he’s bisexual, decide to fly over to the U.S. to attend the wedding — forcing Wai-Tung, Simon, and Wei-Wei into the awkward position of having to work together to maintain the farce. What Lee and his co-writers Neil Peng and James Schamus spin from that setup is equal parts lively, hilarious, thorny, heartrending, and profound.

If we’re talking big, crowd-pleasing, culturally specific wedding rom-coms, it would be outright irresponsible to leave out “My Big Fat Greek Wedding,” the Joel Zwick-directed and Nia Vardalos-scripted film that made waves and started a franchise with its legendary theatrical run in 2002. An indie film with a $5 million debut, “My Big Fat Greek Wedding” became the biggest rom-com ever at the box office on the strength of ecstatic word of mouth. But, as inevitable as it is to mention it, the financial success is far from the most interesting thing about the movie; at most, it’s a testament to its ability to win over just about everybody.

Vardalos herself stars as Fotoula “Toula” Portokalos, a Greek-American woman who meets and falls in love with the handsome and charming yet non-Greek Ian Miller (John Corbett). A dyed-in-the-wool family woman, Toula struggles to get her brash and nosy but loving extended family, especially her father, Gus (Michael Constantine), to accept her relationship with someone from outside their culture. Although Toula and Ian’s relationship is delightful to watch unfold, the film’s main attraction is the family, with its numerous charismatic eccentrics and comedic powerhouses — who get even more entertaining when the movie enters the story’s titular wedding portion. It’s an unbelievably fun and infectious film, utterly captivating in its fine-grained depiction of Greek-American culture.

Although 2004’s “Saving Face” is self-evidently one of the most remarkable feature debuts of the 21st century, it took 16 years for American director Alice Wu to be able to make her sophomore film, which would be Netflix’s “The Half of It” in 2020. It’s a damning testament to the American film industry’s historical inability to do right by talented filmmakers of color, especially when they’re women, especially when they’re queer. As for the film itself, it’s a testament to the power of a good romantic comedy to transcend all barriers — whether cultural, sexual, moral, or emotional — and arrive at a vibrantly human place.

Described by “Crazy Rich Asians” star Awkwafina as the first movie that spoke to her experience as an Asian American, “Saving Face” tells the story of the budding relationship between Wilhelmina “Wil” Pang (Michelle Krusiec), an ambitious young surgeon, and Vivian Shing (Lynn Chen), an aspiring contemporary dancer. While hitting it off with Vivian, Wil must navigate once again living under the same roof as her mother Hwei-Lan (Joan Chen) — who doesn’t know her daughter is a lesbian — after she’s kicked out of her own father’s (Jin Wang) home for becoming pregnant out of wedlock. 

A pioneering film in multiple ways, “Saving Face” is also an exceedingly well-observed, visually and stylistically enchanting rom-com — the kind that both honors and reinvents the genre without looking like it’s trying.

“Crazy Rich Asians,” like most live-action Awkwafina roles, positions her as the cast’s boisterous, irrepressible wildcard — the one who enlivens any scene she’s in, to the point of even occasionally overwhelming the other characters. But even though it’s as hilarious, sweet, and entertaining as “Crazy Rich Asians,” Hulu’s “Quiz Lady” shows that Awkwafina can work just as well as the straight man in a comedic dynamic. To boot, the film also gives the great Sandra Oh an opportunity to take on a goofier, peppier role than usual — something she had only seldom gotten to do since her ’90s breakthrough in “Double Happiness.”

The comedic chemistry between the two actresses turns out to be miraculous, and it helps elevate “Quiz Lady” into one of the funniest, heartiest, most compelling studio comedies of the past few years. Directed by veteran documentary and TV director Jessica Yu, “Quiz Lady” follows sisters Anne (Awkwafina) and Jenny Yum (Oh), who haven’t been on good terms since Jenny ditched her dysfunctional family to pursue stardom when Anne was still a teen. Years later, Jenny suddenly reappears to crash at Anne’s place and encourages her sister to go on the TV game show “Can’t Stop the Quiz,” which she’s been obsessed with since childhood, in order to make enough money to cover their mother’s massive gambling debt. A winding misadventure ensues, with Awkwafina and Oh relishing every chance to go for big laughs and disarming pathos alike.

Stanley Kwan is one of the most underrated directors of the Second Hong Kong New Wave of the ’80s and ’90s, with an incredible curriculum of unique, genre-bending, visually striking, sociologically ambitious films that make up one of the most vital auteurist visions of Hong Kong at the turn of the 21st century. And, although he has mostly made films in his native country, he did, on one occasion, travel over to the United States to make a movie about the Chinese immigrant experience.

Arguably the most underappreciated tome in Kwan’s filmography, “Full Moon in New York” brings his keen, sensitive eye for urban sprawl and malaise to New York City. It’s a relatively simple story about three women becoming friends and helping each other navigate the city, with an incredible headlining trio of actresses: Sylvia Chang, Maggie Cheung, and Siqin Gaowa. Few other movies in film history have ever been so totally, fully absorbed in curiosity about the lives and experiences of Asian women in the United States. 

For long stretches, “Full Moon in New York” is content to simply sit back and let Hsiung-Ping (Chang), Fung-Jiau (Cheung), and Zhaohong (Siqin) exist and be themselves, trusting in their ability to transfix — which they very much do. It’s essential viewing for anyone moved by the allocation of comedic and dramatic space, rich interiority, and three-dimensionality to Asian women in “Crazy Rich Asians.”

Mira Nair’s “Monsoon Wedding” is another classic 21st-century romance film centered around a wedding that “Crazy Rich Asians” fans absolutely must watch. A proper panoramic epic, this New Delhi-set 2001 movie is one of those scrumptious relics of the early 2000s — a time when movies weaving together the stories of various interconnected characters were all the rage.

Watching a movie as teeming with life, drama, and exuberance as “Monsoon Wedding,” one wonders why that storytelling strategy ever went out of style. Much like “Crazy Rich Asians,” Nair’s film spotlights opulence and lavish ceremonial production, following the many members of the extended Verma family as they rapidly get together from around the world and put in a collective effort to get an ambitious and expensive Punjabi Hindu wedding off the ground on short notice. 

However, the film’s real focus is less on the splendor of it all — though that element is certainly there, rendered in rich, swoon-worthy colors by Declan Quinn’s cinematography. It’s more on the ways in which the strain and excitement of arranged wedding preparations put varying kinds of pressure on the Vermas, bringing myriad nuances of familial life in contemporary India to the fore. Nair expertly balances the film between the members of its massive ensemble, creating a multifaceted character piece that keeps finding new, surprising nooks for romantic bliss, heartbreak, and humor alike.

A wonderful filmmaker who has never quite gotten her due in the English-speaking world, Mabel Cheung made several films in the ’80s, ’90s, and 2000s that stand as shining examples of the best of Hong Kong cinema. In one of those films, 1989’s “Eight Taels of Gold,” she tackled a theme not unlike that of “Crazy Rich Asians” — namely, the contrasts that emerge from the clash between American cultural sensibilities and the ebb and flow of life in an Asian country.

The film follows “Slim” Cheng (played by martial arts film star Sammo Hung in a rare dramatic role), a Chinese man who returns to his native rural village after years in New York City. Upon his return, Slim runs into his distant cousin Odds-and-Ends a.k.a. Jenny (Sylvia Chang), and asks for her help tracking down his family. Slim and Jenny thus start on a journey of simultaneous exploration of the past and the present, gradually conquering the distance that has opened up between them in all those years.

 “Eight Taels of Gold” oscillates between a soulful drama, a lightfooted road movie, a whimsical comedy of manners, and a wistful romance, lovingly tackling each of those genres the way only Cheung can. It’s one of the best showcases of the textured, convincing humanity she has consistently brought to her films.

There aren’t many films out there that will sneak up on you so carefully with their emotions, yet land those emotions with such devastating force, as Lulu Wang’s “The Farewell.” Largely autobiographical and based on a situation experienced by Wang herself, the movie goes way beyond merely recapitulating real-life events. Instead, by looking closely at details both enormous and seemingly throwaway in the tapestry of her own life and family, Wang comes up with a kind of plaintive poetry of the everyday, finding deep recesses of sadness even under the most prosaic surfaces. And, if you can believe it, the movie is also hilarious.

Awkwafina stars in a role that decisively proves how amazing she can be as a full-on dramatic actress, playing a character who actively resists even the movie’s occasional tidal pulls towards levity. She plays Billi, an aspiring writer who gets informed that her Nai Nai i.e. paternal grandmother (Zhao Shuzhen) has been diagnosed with terminal lung cancer. To spare Nai Nai from anguish in her final months, the family hides her diagnosis from her and travels together to Changchun, China, to keep her company, under the guise of a would-be wedding. 

The awkwardness and dark humor of that situation are explored to their fullest, compounded by a wonderful ensemble led by the solar, commanding, and totally oblivious presence of Nai Nai herself. But it’s in the dramatic moments that “The Farewell” hits hardest. Watch it only if you’re ready to be wrecked.

The first wide-released feature film directed by a Chinese Canadian woman, namely Mina Shum in her feature debut, 1994’s “Double Happiness” also has another big claim to historical importance: It was the movie that introduced the world to Sandra Oh, a then-23-year-old just starting her screen career. Like “Crazy Rich Asians,” it’s one of the essential films about the diasporic Chinese experience in North America, and, though the story features its share of hardship and grit, Shum infuses the movie with a sprightly, vivacious, almost magical energy — largely thanks to the contribution of Oh, in one of those lightning-in-a-bottle breakthrough performances that stop the movie world on its tracks.

In the plot, Jade Li (Oh) is a Chinese Canadian twentysomething from Vancouver with an irrepressible zest for life, who is caught in the throes of trying to both please her demanding traditionalist parents (Stephen Chang and Alannah Ong) and chart a satisfying path of her own in the world. Things get complicated when she falls for a white man named Mark (Callum Keith Rennie) — an infatuation that lifts her off her feet yet decisively compromises the delicate balance she’s kept all her life between the role of the dutiful daughter and her wants and needs as an individual. 

“Double Happiness” is a note-perfect family drama, a note-perfect romance, and above all an impeccable showcase for Oh, allowing her to fill the screen with her city-sized charisma and unfussily brilliant acting choices at every turn.

Released the year after “Crazy Rich Asians,” Nahnatchka Khan’s “Always Be My Maybe” only played a handful of theaters in a symbolic run before being ushered to the Netflix catalog, so it never really got the chance to play to the huge theatrical market for Asian-led romantic comedies revealed by the Jon M. Chu film. It’s a shame, because it’s hard to imagine the audiences who flocked to “Crazy Rich Asians” not taking a liking to this smaller-scale yet equally charming and witty rom-com.

Starring two of the funniest and most dependable comedic actors of their generation in Ali Wong and Randall Park, “Always Be My Maybe,” scripted by Wong and Park themselves alongside Michael Golamco, is the kind of star vehicle so perfect it could only have been given by the stars in question to themselves as a gift. Portraying the two halves of the film’s overachiever-underachiever duo, Wong and Park make great comedic sparring partners even before romantic chemistry enters the equation — but rest assured, they also have plenty of that. 

The film’s unique and relatable concept follows two childhood best friends who keep almost embarking on a relationship again and again throughout their lives, only to be repeatedly pulled apart by circumstances, and the stars play both the farce and the anxious melancholy of it all to perfection. As a bonus, Keanu Reeves shows up in a fully committed cameo as himself.