Vea Mafile’o (Lea Tupu’anga / Mother Tongue): Luciane Buchanan, the writer and a close friend, brought her experiences as a Tongan “hafi-kasi” (half-caste) woman to the table. The themes in the film, revolving around feelings of disconnection, inadequacy, the outsider experience, and the perpetual quest for belonging, resonate on a profound personal level for both of us. These themes reflect the challenges we have faced in navigating the dual worlds of the Western and Tongan cultural landscapes, where language serves as both a bridge and a barrier.

I was drawn to the film from my childhood experiences, where, like Luciane, a language barrier existed between my Tongan grandmother and me. But it was her expression of love through the traditional art of “fotofota” (massage), rooted in her role as a traditional healer, which was a powerful means of connection. It transcended language and created a deep sense of belonging that resonated with me on a cellular level. She embedded this so deep within me that whenever I need to reaffirm my “Tonganess,” I can wholeheartedly center myself in the memory of her touch and know who I am. This film is an exploration of these intertwined experiences, a tribute to the complexity of cultural identity, and a celebration of the strength and resilience found in familial love. My Granny Vea continues to inspire me and has been my biggest spirit guide, and I am deeply grateful to her.

Films are lasting artistic legacies; what do you want yours to say?

Hernandez-Fitch: I think what I love about this film is that it continues to talk even when it is silent, and that’s true with many films. I have a background in film and media studies, and it’s truly so interesting how we dissected and created so many vibrant discussions about film and its importance. I think there’s so much to discuss with Ekbeh, such as the importance of language as the complexities it can have for both good and bad. Language in law has been used as an act of dispossession and then language in law has also been used as an act of self-determination.

Lank: I want my films to shine a light on shared human experiences of perseverance and resilience. As an Indigenous person, I feel that so much of our history has been left out of cinema for so long, but these stories ultimately transcend silos of race and ethnicity. These stories are fundamentally about being alive and the emotional experience of holding onto existence. I want people to be able to look back on my films and see themselves and their loved ones. I want someone to be able to watch a film about a people or event they’ve never heard of and feel a connection.

Mafile’o: The struggle to feel “Tongan enough” in the face of linguistic challenges is a common thread many individuals born between multiple cultures grapple continuously with. But language, while significant, isn’t the sole way of communication. There are many ways we can connect, especially within our Indigenous cultures, which have a rich tapestry of alternative forms of expression. Through these characters, the film becomes a mirror for those who have grappled with straddling two worlds, feeling like they don’t quite fit anywhere. What emerges from this story is a powerful revelation: When everything else falls away — the relationships, the job, the material possessions — what remains is the enduring strength of love and human connections. It speaks to the universality of love and relationships, transcending cultural and linguistic boundaries. It’s a celebration of the human experience and a reminder that, even amid life’s turbulence, the core of our existence lies in the connections we forge with one another.

Describe who you want this film to reach.

Hernandez-Fitch: First and foremost, my community, and the place I’m from (Dulac). To every storyteller on the bayou.

Lank: Everyone! But if I had to pick a smaller audience, maybe those who find themselves lost trying to navigate this strange world we live in.

Mafile’o: The primary audience for this film is undeniably my own people — those who share the same cultural background, experiences, and stories. The lens through which the narrative unfolds is crafted specifically for our community. It’s about telling our tales, capturing our essence, and reflecting our reality. That authenticity is crucial to building a connection that resonates deeply within our community.

While I acknowledge and prioritize our people first, there’s an understanding that by creating films that authentically represent us, we’re also opening a window for a broader global audience. It’s not about watering down our narrative to fit a more mainstream mold. Instead, it’s about inviting others to step into our world, experience our stories, and gain a genuine understanding of who we are.

This film pushes some boundaries within our Tongan communities. It’s got things like swearing, sex, and cigarette smoking. But these aspects aren’t thrown in for shock value; they’re part of the real, unfiltered context of the characters and their lives. Sure, sometimes I make decisions to tweak things for different audiences and show different versions out of respect for my Tongan culture (traditionally, brothers and sisters can not watch content together that has swearing or is of a sexual nature), but I also have a commitment to standing in the truth of our characters and their world and make the judgment call depending on the audience. This is all part of the process of navigating a new digital storytelling language. We can create new ways of working on set and off, centered in a Moana Pasifika worldview. For me, it’s about embracing the raw authenticity of our stories, even if it means confronting elements that might be considered edgy within our own cultural context. Ultimately, it’s about staying true to the characters and their reality while recognizing that our stories can still resonate globally in all their complexity.