Ali Wong’s Bold Confession: How She “Made Netflix Spend All This Money” Just to Kiss Keanu Reeves in Always Be My Maybe

In the glittering world of Hollywood rom-coms, where fairy-tale endings and meet-cutes dominate, Ali Wong pulled off something refreshingly audacious. In a now-legendary 2019 appearance on The Ellen DeGeneres Show, the comedian and actress dropped a bombshell that still has fans buzzing years later: she essentially convinced Netflix executives to greenlight and fund her passion project Always Be My Maybe (2019) largely so she could lock lips with two of Hollywood’s most desirable leading men—Daniel Dae Kim and, most shockingly, Keanu Reeves. “I basically made Netflix spend all this money on a movie just so I could kiss Daniel Dae Kim and Keanu Reeves,” she confessed with her trademark mischievous grin, sending the studio audience into hysterics. It was cheeky, self-aware, and utterly Wong—turning what could have been a standard promotional interview into a viral moment that encapsulated her fearless approach to comedy, desire, and career-building.

The resurfaced clip, highlighted in a 2023 Daily Mail article amid the explosive success of her Netflix series Beef, reminded the world why Wong remains one of entertainment’s most captivating voices. At the time of the Ellen appearance, Wong was promoting Always Be My Maybe, the Netflix romantic comedy she co-wrote (with Randall Park and Michael Golamco) and starred in as Sasha Tran, a fiercely ambitious celebrity chef navigating love, identity, and the Bay Area’s evolving landscape. The film’s journey from script to screen—and that infamous kiss—was no accident. It was a calculated, hilarious power move by a woman who had spent years grinding in comedy clubs, breaking barriers in stand-up, and refusing to let Hollywood dictate her narrative.

Always Be My Maybe tells the story of childhood friends Sasha Tran and Marcus Kim (Park), whose teenage romance fizzles after an awkward intimate moment leaves Marcus pulling away. Fifteen years later, Sasha has transformed into a high-profile chef, jet-setting and opening trendy fusion restaurants that blend her Vietnamese-Chinese heritage with contemporary flair. Marcus, meanwhile, stays grounded in San Francisco, working as an HVAC technician by day and leading the indie hip-hop group Hello Peril by night. His music critiques gentrification and cultural erasure, reflecting the real frustrations many long-time residents felt amid the tech boom. When Sasha returns to launch a new venture, their reunion is electric—filled with banter, unresolved tension, and the slow realization that some connections never truly fade.

The chemistry between Wong and Park is palpable, rooted in their real-life friendship dating back to the late 1990s Asian American theater scene. Their on-screen dynamic feels lived-in: playful arguments over authenticity in food, family expectations, and the fear of vulnerability. Supporting players add depth—James Saito as Marcus’s wise, understated father; Michelle Buteau as Veronica, Sasha’s fiercely loyal and hilariously blunt best friend; and Charlyne Yi and Karan Soni in memorable cameos. The Bay Area setting shines: foggy streets, neighborhood taquerias, and intimate house parties capture a San Francisco on the cusp of irreversible change.

But the film’s true showstopper is Keanu Reeves’s cameo as Sasha’s short-lived rebound boyfriend—a pompous, thigh-obsessed, philosophically vapid version of himself. The double-date scene at a lavish restaurant is pure comedic gold. Reeves arrives in a sleek suit, lensless glasses (his own improvisation), and an aura of untouchable cool. He spouts lines like “The only stars that matter are the ones you look at when you dream,” lists Chinese dignitaries to flex cultural knowledge, and dares Marcus into a mock fight. The chaos peaks when Marcus punches him—shouting “This is for The Matrix!”—and Reeves bleeds dramatically while Jenny (Marcus’s girlfriend) stays behind with the star. The sequence ends with Sasha and Marcus sharing a passionate Uber kiss, ditching the celebrity fantasy for something real.

That kiss with Reeves wasn’t just funny; it was revolutionary. In a genre where Asian American women were rarely allowed to be the romantic lead—let alone kiss icons like Reeves—Wong claimed that space unapologetically. She revealed on Ellen that she pushed hard for the cameo, knowing Reeves’s star power would elevate the film. Remarkably, Reeves agreed after watching Wong’s groundbreaking Netflix special Baby Cobra (2016), filmed while she was seven months pregnant and tackling taboo topics like sex, motherhood, and feminism with fearless candor. He squeezed in four days of filming between John Wick: Chapter 3 commitments, fully embracing the parody with improvised bits that made the scene iconic.

Wong’s Ellen confession was layered with humor and honesty. “I kiss a lot of men. It’s like, who wrote this movie, right? I kiss a lot of sexy men. I kiss Daniel Dae Kim. I kiss Keanu Reeves,” she said, before admitting her long marriage to Justin Hakuta (then 10 years) made on-screen chemistry effortless: “I’ve been with the same dude for 10 years. I would have chemistry with a turtle at this point.” She singled out Kim’s improvised lift in their kiss scene as particularly thrilling—”He just lifted me up and it wasn’t a problem for him. That was so sexy to me”—and pointed to a photo of her beaming post-kiss: “What you see on my face, that is a grown woman experiencing joy right there.”

The film succeeded wildly upon release, earning 91% on Rotten Tomatoes and praise for its fresh take on rom-com tropes, sharp commentary on class and culture, and barrier-breaking representation. It normalized Asian American leads in a sexy, adult romance without exoticization—Sasha and Marcus are complex, flawed, and desirable on their own terms. Wong’s push for the Reeves kiss wasn’t vanity; it was strategic brilliance, using celebrity allure to spotlight authentic stories.

The Daily Mail piece in 2023 tied this anecdote to Wong’s Beef triumph. The limited series, created by Lee Sung Jin, follows Amy Lau (Wong) and Danny Cho (Steven Yeun) in a spiraling feud born from a road-rage incident that exposes rage, class divides, and immigrant family pressures. With a perfect 100% Rotten Tomatoes score, Beef showcased Wong’s dramatic range—volatile, vulnerable, and riveting. She admitted initial intimidation by Yeun’s acclaim (Oscar-nominated for Minari), but he reassured her: “I don’t know anything that you don’t know.” Yeun praised her “warm, nurturing presence” for creating a safe set, allowing raw performances. The all-Asian American cast let characters breathe beyond stereotypes.

Wong’s path from stand-up to stardom is inspiring. Born in 1982 in San Francisco to a Vietnamese mother and Chinese-American father, she honed her craft in comedy clubs before specials like Baby Cobra and Hard Knock Wife made her a household name. Her marriage to Hakuta (they share daughters Mari and Nikki) ended amicably in 2022, a chapter she mined for comedy with grace. Post-divorce, she briefly dated Bill Hader before focusing on work.

The Reeves kiss symbolizes Wong’s agency—refusing to wait for permission, she wrote her fantasies into reality. Fans still quote the end-credits rap “I Punched Keanu Reeves,” meme the vase-smash, and celebrate the film’s legacy. In an industry slow to center women of color, Wong’s move was empowering: desire, humor, and representation intertwined.

As Wong’s career evolves—more projects rumored, her influence growing—her confession endures as a reminder: sometimes the boldest dreams start with a simple, hilarious ask. Netflix may have footed the bill, but audiences reaped the rewards: laughter, heart, and one unforgettable smooch.