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Minnesotan James Hong has portrayed more than 500 characters in his career, gracing the big screen in "Chinatown," "Blade Runner" and "The Sand Pebbles." His TV résumé is equally impressive, stretching from the pilot of "Kung Fu" to the classic "Seinfeld" episode in which he foils the gang's attempt to secure a table at a Chinese restaurant. But Hong is less than satisfied.

"I did a good job on 'Seinfeld,' but it's still the role of a waiter. 'Chinatown' was a great movie, but I'm just a butler," Hong said. "I'm 80 and I've waited a long time for things to change. I don't see much of a future for James Hong to play the kind of roles that my colleagues have.

"I keep going back to how blacks and Latino actors during my career have escalated using the roles they have played. I'm very disturbed and worried about the whole thing because my daughter, [actor] April, is sitting out there, and I fear that she will face the same situation I did."

Hong is luckier than most Chinese-Americans who have dreamed of seeing their names in lights over the past 100 years. Those who defied the odds and those who have fallen short are equally represented in "Hollywood Chinese," a thorough documentary that premieres Wednesday under PBS' "American Masters" banner.

The film, directed and produced by Arthur Dong, does spotlight a number of breakthrough moments.

There's Nancy Kwan taking strong, sexy command in "The World of Suzie Wong"; Bruce Lee kicking aside the stereotype of the wimpy Asian male; Wayne Wang turning the $20,000 film "Chan Is Missing" into an independent milestone; Ang Lee striding to the podium to accept an Oscar for directing "Brokeback Mountain." But the overall tone is one of disappointment, missed chances and discrimination.

Footage from early silent films with titles such as "Massacre of the Christians by the Chinese" will make you flinch. The sight of Katharine Hepburn, John Wayne and Tony Randall made up as Asians would be laughable if it weren't accompanied by bitter commentary from Asian-American actors who were overlooked for those same parts.

You'll celebrate Joan Chen's exuberance over her part in the Oscar-winning "The Last Emperor," only to feel her devastation moments later when you learn the only movie part she could snag in the wake of the film's success was some schlock called "Salute of the Jugger" (aka "The Blood of Heroes").

Hong shares their pain.

"I came from Minnesota, where there were no opportunities to perform whatsover," said Hong, who talked to reporters earlier this year in Los Angeles. "Even in my high school play, they said, 'What should we do with James Hong? He doesn't fit into this British class play we're doing.' I was ousted. Same thing at University of Minnesota. They only wanted to put me in radio."

Hong, who was studying civil engineering, decided to try another door into show business. He moved to Los Angeles and began doing stand-up comedy, eventually teaming up with Don Parker, who was white. The duo wasn't accepted by audiences, but the experience led Hong to an agent, which led to an appearance on "You Bet Your Life" and then bit parts as a railroad worker in Clint Eastwood westerns or a shivering victim who needed to be saved by Richard Boone.

Hong's fortunes changed somewhat after Bruce Lee's 1973 film "Enter the Dragon." Suddenly, Chinese men weren't always the menial and meek. They could chew up bad guys as finely as a Cuisinart.

It's at this point in the historic timeline that the documentary makes its keenest observation: The martial-arts experts in the vast majority of Hollywood films have been played by actors raised in Hong Kong or China, not the United States.

B.D. Wong, who won a Tony for his stage work in "M. Butterfly" and may be best known for his recurring role as a psychiatrist in "Law & Order: SVU," thinks that's because stars like Jackie Chan, Jet Li and Yun-Fat Chow grew up in more nurturing, confidence-building environments.

"There was no Asian cultural dismissal in their lexicon," Wong said.

That trend forced Hong to make another adjustment. He says that at least 35 percent of the roles he's gotten in recent years require him to play some kind of martial-arts master, usually one who speaks in fortune-cookie phrases. That stereotype has led to a few juicy parts -- most notably the supervillain in "Big Trouble in Little China" -- but it's not exactly the kind of challenge he craves.

"I would like to play other roles that are executives, the owner of a tech industry or something that reflects the true life of Chinese in America or all over the world, and not just play the waiter, please, or the supervillain. I'm still waiting for a few good meaty parts to bite into. However, if I keep eating my herbs, I just might make it."

njustin@startribune.com • 612-673-7431