The good news is that Asians have significantly improved their presence in American movies and television. Screen Actors Guild statistics for 2005 show that 3.3 percent of all roles went to Asians and Pacific islanders, up from 2.9 percent the previous year, and 2.5 percent for three straight years before that.

The bad news is that Asian males accounted for only 1.1 percent of the 2005 total, being handily outgigged by their female counterparts. Add to this disparity a history that includes demeaning, stereotypical roles — Long Duk Dong from "Sixteen Candles," anyone? — and some bitterness would be understandable.

But the Asian actors heard from in a pair of PBS Hawaii broadcasts avoid wallowing in the negative.

"Island Insights" puts the spotlight on outspoken Honolulu-based actor Cary-Hiroyuki Tagawa tonight.

"The Slanted Screen," a well-traveled documentary making its television debut on PBS next month, takes a constructive approach to examining the obstacles facing Asian-American actors in Hollywood.

Screen legends, such as the late Mako in his last interview, and fresher faces, including Hawai'i-connected director Eric Byler, actor Jason Scott Lee and Tagawa, place their individual careers in the context of a greater, emerging whole.

In between the interviews, which were shot over roughly a 10-year period, are movie clips, some of which are quite rare.

Take, for instance, the largely forgotten early work of Sessue Hayakawa. The documentary serves up footage from "The Cheat," a 1915 silent film that cemented Hayakawa's reputation as a matinee sex symbol, a decade before anyone knew of Rudolph Valentino.

Less rare, but just as significant, is Mako's Oscar-nominated performance in "The Sand Pebbles," scenes from which also appear in the documentary.

"The Slanted Screen" was conceived of and ultimately finished by Jeff Adachi, the elected public defender of San Francisco.

As the former producer of the Golden Ring Awards, an annual event for Asian-American entertainers, Adachi had listened intently to the personal horror stories of the actor community and felt a call to action.

"I was fascinated by the Catch-22 they were facing," Adachi said. "They had to play these negative roles, with these stereotypes, to work at all, and when they did work, they got all this criticism from their community for perpetuating these stereotypes."

As a perennial movie villain in the 1980s, Tagawa had taken his share of that criticism. He participated early in the making of Adachi's film, being interviewed in 1995. Though he has since had the opportunity to play more sympathetic characters, Tagawa steadfastly defends his early choices, as he did back then.

"Guaranteed, I wouldn't have gotten to play good guys if I hadn't played those bad guys," Tagawa said.

"It's something you take pride in, being not only the best Asian bad guy you can be, but the best of all bad guys. I wasn't willing to do anything to get in, but I think I developed the ability to take what I was given and do the best job I could."

Tagawa's strategy ultimately paid off, rewarding him with a wider range of roles, both good and bad.

In the title role of Disney's made-for-television "Johnny Tsunami," Tagawa portrayed a tough but loving grandpa figure, which he said is closer to his real-life persona. He's come back around to similar subject matter in one of his latest projects, a Disney Channel surf film (shot in New Zealand), "Back on Board."

Others from his generation were not so fortunate. In a panel discussion included on the DVD of "Slanted," the difficult casting call for a particular 30- to 40-year-old male role was discussed. A white casting director argues that there simply were not enough quality Asian-American actors available to quickly cast the role.

Eric Byler, who directed "Americanese," the film in question, has a theory about this phenomenon.

"Hollywood has unnaturally selected against Asian-American men," Byler said. "When this group of men were 25 to 30, the lead roles didn't even exist. We left Chris Tashima's role open for two weeks. If you were a 20-year-old Asian actor in 1980, all you had were sidekick roles, and these roles paid less money. You probably didn't see a bright future for yourself, and you probably didn't try."

After the documentary's original director bowed out, Adachi held on to the rough tapes in his garage, adding new interviews in 2005.

"Back when we originally started, we didn't have much to say except Asian guys have it bad in Hollywood," he said. "But between then and when we picked it up again, things have changed quite a bit."

For one thing, a whole new generation of actors and filmmakers has come of age, bringing collective clout and new ideas.

Byler has made a name for himself with "Charlotte Sometimes" and "Americanese," challenging prevailing notions of what Asian-American stories could and should be.

"If there's anything 'Charlotte Sometimes' contributed to the continuum, we've contributed the idea that we can tell stories about our lives above and beyond our ethnicities," Byler said. "Then the stories become a genuine record of the lives we lead today."

However, one of the biggest changes has nothing to do with art or solidarity. As Asian-Americans increase in numbers and buying power, they are a growing force as filmmakers and film consumers.

According to Angel Rivera, national diversity director for SAG, success is the loudest voice in Hollywood.

"It proves that when you look for talent in a minority population, you find it, and that there is a business case for diversity," Rivera said. "If you mix good acting with good writing, success is not a surprise.