As part of the Spike Lee Film Production Fund, four rising filmmakers – Kwesi Jones, Vincent Mocco, Joecar Hanna and Hunter Redhorse Arthur – speak about their work, their influences and the stories they feel compelled to tell. Filmmakers wear Stone Island throughout
Kwesi Jones
Hometown: Atlanta GA
Films: BITE, Lake Lanier
Kwesi Jones is a filmmaker and multidisciplinary artist whose work spans cinema, writing and painting, all of which is underpinned by a deep engagement with history, identity and the politics of representation. Growing up in Atlanta, Georgia, Jones was immersed in film from an early age, with frequent trips to local theatres – especially the now-shuttered Magic Johnson Theater near Greenbriar Mall – laying the foundation for a lifelong love of storytelling. His parents’ selection of films, from Malcolm X to The Wiz and Roots, provided an early education in how Black narratives could shape cultural memory and collective understanding.
Now based in New York, Jones’ work is shaped by a thematic and conceptual approach, often interrogating the personal and the political through genre and experimental form. His short film BITE reimagines horror conventions to explore racial appropriation, while his latest project, Lake Lanier – supported by the Spike Lee Film Production Fund and the Black Family Film Prize – draws on the haunted history of Georgia’s infamous reservoir. Alongside developing his own feature film, Jones plans to continue his projects and return to his visual art practices. As a Black queer filmmaker, Jones is committed to creating space for marginalised voices and envisions a future where artists can create freely and sustain themselves without structural limitations.
Bite, by Kwesi Jones
Your work spans various art forms, including writing and painting. How do these different mediums influence your filmmaking approach?
I believe filmmaking is inherently interdisciplinary, as it is a collaborative merging of various forms of art and craftsmanship. As a writer, I am always thinking about the ways in which language creates and troubles meaning. Writing is an act of discovery for me and although I often find myself ripping out my hair during the process, I also find joy in the reiterative practice of writing and rewriting: the craft of using language to clarify and activate ideas and images. With painting, I can similarly think about how all the large things of our world can be distilled within basic elements like colour and composition that also create meaning. As a filmmaker, I use the lessons learned from other disciplines as ways to enrich the sensorial and conceptual experience I hope to conjure with my films.
How do your experiences as a Black queer filmmaker shape the narratives you tell?
As a Black queer person I find that I must be hyper conscious of the ways that shame and repression can inadvertently seep its way into my personal expression and stunt my creative work. I try to honour my Black queer ancestors who had to cultivate the strength and courage to be themselves in the face of power structures that exploit our interlocking identities. I hope my narratives reflect the expansive potentialities of Blackness and queerness.
Your short film BITE tells a wordless story of an envious white vampire who “wants more than just the blood of his Black victims”. What sparked this concept, and how does the film engage with horror’s historical relationship to race?
My film BITE was inspired by my lived experiences of being at once lauded and imitated for Black cultural expression while also being the object of criminalisation. At my undergrad at a predominantly white institution, I remember constantly seeing non-Black students from all over the world donning culturally specific clothes derived from Black American expressive traditions, while I, and my other Black classmates, were targeted and scorned for wearing the same items. With BITE, I wanted to explore the feeling of being the object of a vampiric appropriation by making use of satire and horror conventions.
Your upcoming short Lake Lanier has received both the Spike Lee Film Production Fund and the Black Family Film Prize. Can you tell us more about it?
While researching the history lying beneath the mysterious Lake Lanier, a young documentarian is haunted by ghosts that threaten to reveal the truth about her own past. With Lake Lanier I am interested in exploring the ways we experience history and memory as a haunting, a spectre that reappears in the present to reveal hidden truths of the past.
The philosophy of Ubuntu – ‘I am because we are’ – is something you’ve cited as important to your creative practice. How does this idea manifest in your work?
For me the Ubuntu philosophy of the Bantu people is a reminder to centre connectivity within my artistic practice. While art can be a vehicle of personal expression, I am also always thinking about what my work offers others. Whether that offering is knowledge, a reflection of shared experience or the creation of a new sensorial experience, I would like my art to be in service to others in some sort of way.
Vincent Mocco
Hometown: Bernardsville NJ
Films: Double Down, Piedi Nudi
Growing up as the seventh child in a big Irish-Italian-American family in Bernardsville, New Jersey, storytelling was second nature to Vincent Mocco. In a household where quick wit was currency, he learned early on that a well-told story could grab attention, diffuse tension or simply make sense of the chaos.
His love for performance began at Phillips Academy Andover, which paved the way for his filmmaking journey. At Villanova University, Pennsylvania, Vincent contributed to Sankofa (2019), a social justice documentary filmed in Ghana that won a Student Academy Award. After moving to New York City, Vincent worked as a freelance actor, cinematographer, editor and graphic designer, collaborating with clients such as Birddogs, Liberty Harbor and Marin Blvd. Enterprises. He also trained in improv comedy at Upright Citizens Brigade, and is currently an MFA candidate at NYU Tisch School of the Arts. With a deep interest in his Italian heritage and a growing desire to return to documentary work, he strives to embrace the absurd and the deeply human through his storytelling.
Double Down, by Vincent Mocco
What inspires your work?
I love the intersection of comedy and tragedy – where humour sneaks into dark situations and vice versa. Maybe that’s a side effect of growing up in a chaotic household where yelling was just another love language. I’m fascinated by the dissonance of tragicomedy and aspire to make films that invite the audience into a world of spectacular contradictions.
You’ve worked as an actor, cinematographer, editor and now director – how have these varied experiences shaped your vision as a filmmaker?
Having worn all those hats (sometimes at the same time), I appreciate every aspect of the filmmaking process. Acting taught me to respect performances, cinematography gave me an eye for composition, and editing reminded me that I can make the worst mistakes disappear. As a director, I try to bring all that together while keeping the set from catching fire.
You trained in improv comedy at the Upright Citizens Brigade – how does this inform your directing style?
Improv forces you to embrace spontaneity and not panic when things go off-script – both of which are crucial on set. It also helps me guide actors in a way that feels organic, especially when I need to make them believe a last-minute change was always part of the plan.
Your short film Double Down is set in the 1970s and shot on 16mm film. What motivated you to choose this period and medium?
It’s a 1970s period piece and love triangle set in the elite world inhabited by arrogant prep school narcissists. The 70s had a great mix of grit and glamour, which felt perfect for a dark comedy. Shooting on 16mm added a raw, nostalgic quality that digital just can’t fake. Also, there’s something humbling about working with film – it forces you to pause and consider before you hit ‘record’ because every second is expensive.
What can you tell us about Piedi Nudi?
Piedi Nudi is my thesis at NYU Tisch, set in 1940s southern Italy, shot in black and white on 16mm. I wrote and directed it, and I’m currently in post-production. It is a true story about my grandmother’s unexpected friendship with a local orphan and a harrowing experience in an abandoned WWII minefield.
What advice would you give to someone looking to break into the film industry?
Work on as many sets as possible, be easy to collaborate with, and never underestimate the power of buying someone coffee. Get your hands dirty and break a sweat. Don’t be afraid to fail – just make sure you fail in an interesting way. Go to the theatre and watch movies. Don’t be afraid to ask a stranger what they thought about it afterwards. At the end of the day, you have a camera in your pocket so if you really want to make a motion picture, write a script, get some friends together and shoot it already!
What are your plans for the future, and what stories or genres are you excited to explore next?
I’m currently in development for a feature film set in the Jersey Shore and the Hamptons – a dark comedy that explores social climbing, friendship and the sacrifices we are willing to make for status. This year I founded a performing improv group in New York City called Steam Room Etiquette and will have completed my debut show on April 26th. In the future I hope to explore my Italian heritage further and am excited to get back into the documentary world after completing my feature film.
Joecar Hanna
Hometown: Valencia
Films: Deliver Me, Talk Me
Joecar Hanna is a Chinese-Lebanese filmmaker raised in Valencia, Spain, and is currently a fourth-year MFA student in the Graduate Film programme at New York University. Before moving to New York he built a strong background in film editing, working on a TV series and six feature films, including El Desentierro and Bikes, The Movie, the latter earning a Goya nomination.
His multicultural upbringing, shaped by a Lebanese-Guinean father and a Chinese mother, instilled in him a deep awareness of identity, displacement and belonging – which became central themes in his work. His 2023 short Deliver Me, which premiered at SXSW, examines toxic love and self-obsession through a character who clones and marries himself. His thesis film, Talk Me, which has been selected for La Cinef at the Cannes Film Festival, is set in a world where words replace physical intimacy, exploring notions of human connection and isolation. As he gears up for Cannes, Hanna plans to continue bringing cultures, language and storytelling into his work.
Talk Me, by Joecar Hanna
You grew up in Spain with a multicultural background – how did this experience shape your perspective as a filmmaker?
I always felt I hadn’t found a true home, even though Valencia is where I grew up and where my main core of family and friends still live. Born to a Lebanese-Guinean father and a Chinese mother, growing up in Valencia was challenging. Spain has changed significantly since then, but back in the day, being one of the only mixed-heritage kids around was profoundly isolating. Even the most subtle racist experiences or expressions get under your skin. When your parents also carry that pain from their past, you absorb both theirs and your own, quickly learning to blend in – becoming an even greater expert at blending in.
I never fully belonged anywhere because people always needed to label me. I don’t look Spanish, Chinese or Lebanese – so wherever I went, I was always the ‘foreigner’. Ironically, I’ve never felt more at home than since I moved to New York – a true Tower of Babel – where I finally feel like just another citizen of the world.
Although growing up this way was traumatic, the isolation it created sharpened my sensitivity toward anyone struggling with identity or feeling like an outsider. I’m especially good at breaking down and creating complex characters who are – or feel like – outsiders but pretend otherwise, as I did in my film Talk Me. After all, I’m a professional hider myself.
Your short film Deliver Me tells the story of a person cloning and marrying himself. Can you tell us about this concept?
With Deliver Me, I explored a prison familiar to all of us at different levels: love. But love in its toxic form, which can be more destructive than any belief system, especially when it makes us lose sight of who we are. This toxicity always originates within ourselves, and that’s the core of the story. What if we could literally create our ideal partner – ourselves? Would marrying ourselves be utopian, conflict-free – or would it become toxic and lonely? Imagine having the ability to duplicate yourself, with identical memories and experiences. How would you interact intimately with yourself? Would the ‘other you’ stay identical, or would they inevitably change?
You’re currently working on your first feature film and your thesis, supported by the Spike Lee Film Production Fund – can you tell us more about this?
I began working on my feature right after Deliver Me was selected for SXSW. Even before making the short, I knew this story would evolve into my first feature. The short allowed me to explore only a fraction of the larger story, but I want to depict the entire relationship, from beginning to end. It’s scheduled to enter production in the second half of 2025.
My thesis, another example of my imaginative approach to world-building, takes an even crazier but more personal and metaphorical turn. It’s called Talk Me, set in a reversed world where words replace physical intimacy. In a small Spanish village, a local ‘outsider’ must choose between a loveless marriage and true connection with a kindred stranger.
How do you see the representation of multicultural identities evolving in cinema, and what role do you hope to play in that shift?
The blending of cultures is unstoppable. Although we’re experiencing dark times again, drawing borders and shutting gates, there’s no turning back from the increasingly mixed world we live in. I’ve always said I wanted to create bridges, connecting cultures uniquely because of my diverse background. Specifically, I hope to link Hispanic and East Asian worlds while also connecting them with English-speaking audiences. This triple bridge is central to my storytelling and collaboration goals. That’s why all my films naturally incorporate multiple languages, such as Cantonese, Mandarin, Spanish and Catalan (as my characters do in Deliver Me). My goal is to normalise such linguistic coexistence, reflecting the blended future already taking shape around us.
Hunter Redhorse Arthur
Hometown: Phoenix, AZ
Films: Hunter
Hunter Redhorse Arthur, a filmmaker and member of the Diné community, grew up in Phoenix and Scottsdale, Arizona. He was surrounded by oral storytellers – elders, relatives and community members – whose tales would shape his understanding of the world and instil in him a deep appreciation for narrative. Though he never initially set out to be a director, cinema became his escape – a space where he could experience something beyond himself. That same sense of wonder now fuels his filmmaking.
Alongside his sister, Shenise Arthur, he co-founded Redhorse Media, a production company dedicated to reshaping Indigenous representation in film and television. With a shared vision of breaking stereotypes, the siblings are committed to telling stories that reflect the depth and complexity of Indigenous experiences. His latest work, Hunter, a deeply personal short film exploring masculinity, identity and family, was selected for the Spike Lee Film Production Fund and is an apt example of how he strives to create stories that challenge, entertain and offer new perspectives. As he prepares for its release, Arthur continues to carve a path for authentic Indigenous narratives – both in his own work and within the industry at large.
Two Worlds, by Hunter Redhorse Arthur
What inspires you as a filmmaker?
As I near the completion of my graduate studies at NYU’s Tisch School of the Arts, I’ve come to realise that I’m only just scratching the surface of what I truly want to say through my films. What I’ve learned is that filmmaking is about honesty – deep honesty. It’s not a quick process; it takes time to dig into the truths that matter. No matter what theme I explore, I strive to tell a story that is raw, personal and human. I’m excited to bring that truth to larger audiences in the future, telling stories on a grander scale that challenge not only the world around us but the way we view ourselves.
As a member of the Diné (Navajo) community, how do your cultural roots influence the narratives you choose to tell and your approach to filmmaking?
The Diné people have a rich tradition of matrilineality, where women are seen as the backbone of leadership. My mother, in particular, exemplifies this principle. Her strength, compassion and selflessness are traits that shaped me and continue to guide me in my work. Growing up I saw how my mother put others first, even in the toughest times. That spirit of leadership and courage, of stepping into the unknown even without certainty of the outcome, is a core lesson I carry into my filmmaking. As a director, I believe in the importance of supporting my crew and cast, putting them before myself. Leadership isn’t about being at the front – it’s about being in the trenches, working side-by-side with your team to bring the vision to life.
Your short film Hunter explores traditional Diné philosophy and ways of seeing. What drew you to this subject?
Hunter is my graduate film thesis, and it’s also a deeply personal project for me. It’s a story about my relationship with my father and my first hunting trip, marking a rite of passage. It’s a coming-of-age narrative, but it’s also a story that reflects on what it means to grow up as an Indigenous man. The film explores themes of masculinity, identity and family. I wanted to create something personal that reflects my own experiences, but also to show an Indigenous story that doesn’t necessarily conform to the typical narrative we often see in mainstream media. It’s an intimate exploration of my life, and I couldn’t be prouder that Hunter was selected for the 2024/25 Spike Lee Film Production Fund. This project has challenged me to dig deep and speak truths that are both universal and unique to my experience.
What do you think the film industry is getting right – and wrong – when it comes to Indigenous representation?
The film industry has made progress in showcasing Indigenous voices, but there are still many missteps. Indigenous people have been part of cinema since its inception – our stories are as old as film itself. However, for much of the 20th century, we were reduced to stereotypes, cast as the ‘other’ or relegated to historical relics, as seen in films like The Searchers. While there has been a push for more Indigenous representation – what I call the ‘Native American Renaissance’ – we still face many challenges. One of the biggest issues is the lack of resources and leadership in Indigenous storytelling. Too often, Indigenous stories are told without Indigenous people in key positions of power – producers, directors, writers – who can ensure the stories are told with authenticity and respect. Our stories are sacred, and they need to be guided by Indigenous voices who understand their true meaning.
The filmmakers wear Stone Island throughout
Photography Satchel Lee
Production Juice House Creative
Executive producer Jackson Lee
Executive producer E. “Kellogg” Kellogg for Juice House
Producer Sasha Yimsuan for Juice House
Producer Zena Khafagy
Production coordinator Max Acrish
DirectorSatchel Lee
Photographer assistant Rowan Liebrum
Lighting assistant Josh Jiminez
Styling Moses Zay Fofana
Make up Tatiana Menendez
Retoucher Migjen Rama for @atelier_99
Production assistant Sakib Hossain
This article is taken from Port issue 36. To continue reading, buy the issue or subscribe head here
