The Santa Barbara International Film Festival (SBIFF) has long been a showcase for emerging filmmakers, and this year, Réi, previously known as Justin Réi Ching, brought his deeply personal short film, “Shutter Bird,” to the festival’s lineup. Selected as part of SBIFF’s prestigious programming, the film offers an intimate yet cinematic exploration of grief, memory, and fate, making a strong impression on festival audiences.
At just 20 minutes, “Shutter Bird” delivers a compelling emotional arc, a testament to Réi’s ability to distill a complex story into a short format. Starring Dallas Liu (“Avatar: The Last Airbender”) and Isabella Ferreira (“Love, Victor”), the film was shot in Santa Ynez, where Réi grew up, using real locations from his past. The setting plays a crucial role in shaping the film’s atmosphere, reinforcing its themes of nostalgia and loss.
One thing that sets “Shutter Bird” apart is its balance between reality and metaphor. Réi describes the film as a “true memory” rather than a “true story,” allowing it to explore emotions and ideas beyond a literal retelling. Inspired by a personal tragedy from Réi’s youth, the story contemplates how past experiences shape us, blending a coming-of-age narrative with elements of surrealism and myth.
Visually and thematically, “Shutter Bird” is ambitious and immersive. Réi’s direction captures the isolation of the Santa Ynez Valley, offering an authentic portrayal of adolescence in the region. The film’s cinematography and dreamlike approach recall the influences of Kubrick and the Coen Brothers, while its blend of genres and visual storytelling make it a thought-provoking and stylistically distinct short. With its strong execution and emotional depth, the film is well-positioned for continued festival play and potential awards recognition.
I sat down with Réi over breakfast in Santa Monica, where we discussed the film’s personal origins and artistic influences. Against the backdrop of the recent LA wildfires, Réi reflected on how real-life loss shaped the film’s narrative, how “Shutter Bird” became a form of catharsis, and the challenges of directing such emotionally charged material.
“This is the story that got me into storytelling,” Réi told Awards Focus. “If I didn’t tell this story, I would feel like I did not serve my purpose before I died.”
In our conversation, Réi spoke about the cathartic process of filmmaking, his approach to visual storytelling, and working with actors like Dallas Liu and Isabella Ferreira.
Awards Focus: First off, congratulations on the success of “Shutter Bird” at SBIFF. Your film runs about 25 minutes, yet it feels like a fully realized feature condensed into a short. Given the depth of the subject matter, was there ever a point where you considered expanding it into a feature? What led you to commit to the short film format instead?
Réi: Well, it started as a feature. This story is the rosebud at the center of my life. It’s the story that got me into storytelling. When I was 17, I lost a real friend, and it changed my life. I turned to art as a form of therapy during a very dark period of time.
It was strange because I had just gotten into an Ivy League school. I thought my life was completely expansive—and then this happened. Suddenly, I felt like I was in a cave. I could see the light outside, but I was stuck inside. Art was what eventually pulled me out.
AF: So, was writing your first creative outlet in dealing with this loss?
Réi: Yes, it started with writing—poetry, actually—so even shorter than a short film. That eventually led me to theater, and then, ultimately, to filmmaking. I never set out to be a filmmaker. I wasn’t the kid who wished upon a star to direct movies. I kind of fell into it. I always say it became more of a calling than a dream—just something I was meant to do.
AF: You mentioned that you originally wrote this as a feature script. What pushed you toward the short film format?
Réi: Originally, I had written a version of this story in 2019 and submitted it to the Sundance Lab, where I became a finalist. Even though I didn’t get in, it was a strong signal that the story resonated with people. It received great feedback.
Then the pandemic hit. And during that time, when we all questioned whether we’d even make it through, I thought to myself: If I don’t tell this story, I’ll feel like I didn’t fulfill my purpose before I die. That urgency pushed me forward.
This is a story about death, but it’s also about purpose. I was talking to my therapist, telling him how this was the last thing I thought about before I went to bed each night. As a Christian, I pray for my friend’s soul every night. I was baptized Catholic, and one of the doctrines I struggled with was the idea that suicide condemns a person to hell. I couldn’t accept that. So I prayed for my friend, hoping to save her in some way.
AF: That must have been a heavy burden to carry. How did that sense of urgency shape the way you approached the film?
Réi: Whether you’re religious or not, the psychology of it is powerful. When the last thing you think about before sleep is the worst moment of your life, it affects you. It’s a terrible way to live. I needed to take that trauma and put it somewhere. That’s where this film comes in.
The pandemic created urgency—both in life and in storytelling. Every story needs urgency, but this was different. It had an environmental urgency. I told myself, by hell or high water, this was happening. By the end of 2020, I needed to at least be on the path to making it. So, I wrote the short script with the help of Adriana Santos, an incredible co-writer who helped me nail the Latino voice. We went to Santa Ynez, where I grew up, and wrote it there.
AF: You were working on a Coen Brothers spin-off project at the time. Did their work influence your approach to this film?
Réi: Even if it had just stayed a script, I knew we had arrived at the best version of the movie. The original feature-length version was much more literal, more like “The Perks of Being a Wallflower.” At the time, I was also working on a Coen Brothers spin-off project that never took off, but I was thinking a lot about how they blend small-town America with something deeply divine. I asked myself, What’s my Coen Brothers take on a high school movie?—something they would never do. The Coen Brothers have this way of imbuing their films with a sense of fate or destiny, something larger than the characters themselves. There’s this divine spirit in their storytelling, even when they’re dealing with ordinary people in small towns. That really resonated with me because this film is also about forces beyond our control—the way loss shapes us, the way memories linger, and the way grief intertwines with our personal faith.
AF: So, in the end, was it the constraints of the short film format that helped shape the final version?
Réi: Yes. I focused on distilling that vision into a short film instead of a feature. The constraints forced me to be more creative, and I think the film is better for it.
AF: The film is described as a “true memory” rather than a “true story.” Can you elaborate on that distinction?
Réi: Memory is deceptive. We think it’s absolute, but it’s shaped by perspective. I wanted to capture that feeling—the way trauma distorts our perception of events. The film is inspired by my real experience, but I wanted it to be more than just my story. I wanted it to be universal.
AF: The film was shot on location in Santa Ynez, at places from your own past. What was it like to return there and shoot such a personal film?
Réi: It was surreal. Some of the real locations in the film are places where I spent time with my friend. Even the final scene—where she dies—is the actual road where she passed away. And I didn’t tell all of the crew that until we were already shooting. I needed them to just focus on the work, but for me, every shot carried extra weight.
AF: Your film has a genre-bending quality—part coming-of-age, part surrealist drama. Who were some of your influences when crafting this visual and tonal style?
Réi: Kubrick was a huge influence—especially the way he uses framing to trap characters in their environments. The Coen Brothers, too, because they have this ability to blend small-town realism with something bigger, almost mythical. I wanted to make something that felt deeply personal but also like it could exist beyond just one person’s story.
AF: Dallas Liu and Isabella Ferreira give incredible performances. How did you cast them, and how did you direct them through the emotionally heavy content?
Réi: I met Dallas at a Deadline party—one of those Hollywood moments you never expect to actually lead to anything. He loved the idea but told me, “I’m leaving tomorrow to shoot Avatar: The Last Airbender for Netflix, but I’ll be back in a year.” And that ended up being exactly the time I needed to raise the money to make the film.
Isabella was brought in through our producer, Adil (Chamakh). They both connected with the material in such a real way. Dallas’ final scene—where he breaks down—was done in one take. He had lost a friend around the same age I did. It was all very real for him.
You know, fortunately or unfortunately—fortunately for the filmmaker, but unfortunate for the generation—this type of subject matter, whether it be mental health, loss, drug abuse, or listlessness, I think is characteristic of Gen Z. But we could go back to The Last Picture Show and just see that there was an ennui about young people in general in small towns.
And so, I think there’s a timelessness to it, even though it’s still of this generation. I didn’t want to make it feel like a social media story. The phones are obviously iPhones in the story, but it wouldn’t be something that spreads on TikTok, right? It would be the sort of old-school way.
So, I think they found the essence of that very quickly. I think the challenges were the elements—being out in the cold and dealing with literal animals. There were highly technical performances those two had to master in a short period of time.
When you do a short, your only rehearsal time—because of the SAG-allotted amount of days—is basically during a costume fitting. They’re running lines while doing all this stuff, walking the blocking while trying on outfits, so I can see how they look in them. And the costume designer and I are deciding yes or no in real-time.
I think we were very fortunate because these are two TV actors—they have training, they have real craft about them. They have a combination of skills and experience to pull off that kind of performance.
AF: The ending leaves room for interpretation. Was that intentional?
Réi: Absolutely. I once had the chance to speak with Denis Villeneuve, and one of the things I admire about his films is how they leave audiences with more questions than answers. I wanted to create something that makes you wonder: Was it fate? Was it a coincidence? Would she have survived if something else had changed?
AF: When Isabella was portraying this character, was there an intentional effort to channel your friend’s personality, energy, or spirit? Was the character meant to be an interpretation of your friend, or was it something else entirely?
Réi: You know I asked her mother asking for her blessing for the film. I told her I wasn’t trying to create a biopic that told the definitive story of my friend. I wanted to tell one interpretation, one point of view—what she meant to me. That’s also why it was important to take a fictional approach. And not only did her mother give me her blessing, but she also gave me her encouragement. She wrote me a very powerful letter and gave me permission to tell this story. That was really powerful.
I hadn’t spoken to her mom in 17 years—since my friend passed away. Making this film was an acknowledgment that for half my life, I had been defined by this one story. And in some way, it was time to move forward. But for her mother, it was as if it had happened yesterday. It had been one long day since then.
AF: After receiving her blessing, did her mother ever watch the film?
Réi: We’ve talked about it. I’ve told her the story of it. But I don’t know if she should ever see it. I don’t know if it would help. I told her honestly—I think it was therapeutic for me, making it, watching it. But editing it? That was hard.
AF: In what way?
Réi: It felt like “Clockwork Orange”—like my eyes were pinned back, and I was forced to watch the worst moment of my life over and over again. It was hard. Sometimes, it felt more traumatizing than cathartic. But at some point, it did feel like exposure therapy, and it actually got better for me.
But for her, as a mother? I think it would always be more trauma—more painful to watch it. You know, in “Grizzly Man”, Werner Herzog has that moment where he watches footage in front of a family member, and he tells them, You should never watch this. That’s what I thought about.
AF: Now that “Shutter Bird” has debuted at SBIFF, what’s next for the film? Do you see it continuing its festival run?
Réi: Yes, we’re planning on submitting to more festivals. I think the story resonates with people, and I’d love for it to have a long life. If we’re lucky, maybe it’ll find an even bigger platform. I’m also working with The Gotham Institute as part of the US Shorts to Features to develop a feature-length film version. But regardless, I’m just grateful that it exists—that I got to tell this story.