I don’t prefer to be the one telling this story.

In fact, there are very few stories that I prefer to be the one telling.

In my recent filmmaking, you may have noticed a shift. A desire to be even more true to story… yet also more true to respecting humanity… to building connections… and to engaging communities where my films are made.

It all stemmed from a belief that, as a filmmaker (and especially a documentarian), I should be striving to work with communities rather than just in them to tell their stories.

When the chance to create a documentary with UCLA Women’s Basketball regarding the unique basketball journey of a friend of mine, Natalie Chou, I knew it was time to test the methods of filmmaking I had developed over the years.

We all know that a narrative is a singular chosen story/perspective of the one who holds the control - or camera. My idea was to shift that control. To let go of that narrative - my narrative.

I wanted to engage Natalie and her family in the film *AND* in the making of the film.

So, I pitched the idea to Natalie. I hoped that, in the end, her story as an Asian-American playing D1 basketball would find a way to our screens as being simply that - hers.

It began as every film does, in…

Pre - Production

Our preproduction was different in a variety of ways (not to mention finishing a film merely days before the pandemic would hit American soil). From day one, Natalie and her mother worked through our Trello mood board with me. We developed a story structure. We shared our families’ histories and recorded the audio from our time - a sort of natural way of “pre-interviewing.”

We even learned quite a bit of Chinese history from Natalie’s mom (who at this point we know could have a whole film on her own, too).

After our initial, informal audio interviews, we sat down together and developed a rough “script outline.”

What points of their story did we want to focus on?

Before we ever brought a camera into the room we were able to discuss which parts were sensitive, which needed emphasis, and which needed guidance.

I specifically remember talks about maintaining family honor and how big of a topic that was. It was a transformative experience as a filmmaker to be able to get so raw and honest with people but to not have to “take” from their story. Instead, we chose to work together to present raw parts in ways that felt honoring, felt true to Natalie.

At this point in a documentary filmmaker’s process, one has to address the “cost.” If the questions/story we are pursuing are exclusively for our own narrative’s benefit, we must let go.

If those questions/story are truly essential, there is only one option - communication. When a filmmaker cannot communicate their direction in a way that the subject is able to receive/able to stand by, should that creator really be the one bringing forward a story or holding that control?

The answer is no.

Communication can and must happen when working with people and communities in a film. If we are unable to do so… just as it is not our story, it is not our storyline to green light.

Production

We were on our last day of production… in the middle of Texas… in the middle of our final interview with Natalie’s mom. By this time, the three of us had worked through the story to the point where it seemed, well, seamless.

Halfway through a question regarding Natalie’s mother’s history and life in China, Natalie’s sister, TingTing, walked through the door…

”Mom. Are we sure this is what we are wanting to say? We definitely want to be mindful of every audience watching this, both here and in China.”

In the following moments (with the cameras still rolling), Natalie’s family and I sat and discussed changing the story. Typically this might be seen as a catastrophe on the last day of shooting.

However, since we were ALL on the same page, the adjustments took no more than a few minutes. Instead of feeling “sold” as a director on a certain idea… it was refreshing to be able to sit in that moment and let Natalie’s family decide not only what they were going to say but how that would affect the rest of their film’s narrative.

Since they had been a part of creating the structure, they could help change it.

Post - Production

Typically, post-production is my least favorite part of my process.

Hours and hours of isolation are required in an editing bay. At the same time those editing hours all demand our utmost creativity from within those chambers.

This film flipped that on its head.

Bringing Natalie and her mother into not only the editing room (virtually due to COVID 19), but also the pitching discussions and video promotions changed everything. Natalie actually single-handedly wrote the script for our trailer. Her mother did the entirety of the translations with a friend of hers. Natalie led the pitch to ESPN and other outlets (including getting herself featured on a sports article in China). And every step of the way, the pair sent revisions and notes, discussing better ways of presenting b-roll so a more accurate picture of their life would emerge.

I will never forget the moment I showed it to them for the first time.

I don’t believe there is a greater honor a documentarian can receive than for the people in the story to agree that what they saw in their film… was themselves.

In the end, the truth is, yes, I would prefer to not be the one telling Natalie’s story. I equally as much don’t want to tell someone else’s story… or even your story.

I would rather they be told by you. By them. By Natalie.

But that isn’t possible when the entire world isn’t a filmmaker.

So, if I am to be involved beyond just simply a fan cheering these stories on from the sideline… let it be alongside you, with you, as we work through your experience to create something worth watching, worth remembering, worth believing.

In my filmmaking, I’ve found that the narrative may need to change. I have also found how much more powerful it is if we decided to make those changes… together.

Please enjoy, All For One - The Story of Natalie Chou.

Blessings,

Luke