YEN TAN On Writing and Directing ALL THAT WE LOVE
By Rebecca Green
After spending over 20 years navigating the independent film world from Texas, writer-director Yen Tan has built a career defined by quiet resilience and adaptability. From making features for under $10,000 in the early 2000s to his critically acclaimed PIT STOP, which premiered at Sundance in 2013, Yen has consistently found ways to tell deeply personal stories despite the challenges of working outside traditional industry hubs.
Yen discusses with Dear Producer the decade-long journey to make ALL THAT WE LOVE, how a big casting pivot unlocked the project, and why he’s never asked for a producer credit. He also opens up about sustaining a filmmaking career through graphic design work, the importance of community over clicks, and why maintaining a “survival mentality” from his DIY roots has served him better than any traditional filmmaking playbook.
You are the first director I’ve ever interviewed for Dear Producer! I thought I would deviate from the mission of highlighting producers to talk to you about the film we made together, ALL THAT WE LOVE, which was just released on November 7. Tell us how this story came about.
I started writing the script for ALL THAT WE LOVE shortly after PIT STOP premiered at Sundance in 2013. It was also the year when my dog Tanner got sick and passed away. That was the genesis of writing this story about someone who loses their dog in midlife. It’s an observational dramedy exploring how we navigate the loss of our beloved pets, and how that grief ripples through the lives of our family and friends, shaping their own experiences and journeys. That was the basic idea. It shifted quite a bit over the years, going from a male to a female character. It also wasn’t always about an Asian American family.
I came on board the project in 2016 and you already had a fleshed out script and were working with producers Kelly Williams and Jonathan Duffy. Making this film has been a very long journey for all of us, especially you. How do you stay engaged in a project for over a decade?
Ultimately, I ask myself if the material still resonates with me emotionally. I always write from an emotional perspective or a very personal place. If, over time, that feeling starts to wane, I would disengage. But with ALL THAT WE LOVE, there were these very broad universal themes about loss and this idea of what it means to have pets in your life, and what it really means when you lose them. That was something I was still experiencing even after I lost Tanner, because I adopted a dog shortly after he passed. That whole experience over all those years still spoke to me.
About five years into working on the film, we changed the lead character from male to female and also made the family Asian American. Do you remember how that came about?
I was writing the main character based on me in some ways, so making it a male protagonist was the natural extension of that. We went down the list of all the male Asian American actors, but they were all booked. This was right after CRAZY RICH ASIANS and THE FAREWELL. The actors we wanted to work with were in high demand, getting big streaming and Marvel offers. An actor would attach themselves to our project and we’d wait for them to become available, but eventually they would drop out. We kept losing them, or we couldn’t lock them down. It happened so many times that I thought: I bet women are not getting these offers. Middle-aged women, in general, whether Asian American or not, are not getting many lead offers. We all had a conversation about what we should do and if we should pivot.
The other thing I remember is that you’re good friends with comedian Atsuko Okatsuka and that Atsuko is friends with Margaret Cho and offered to get the script to her if it were a female lead. I was impressed by how open you were to a change this big. You had lived with this project for many years and it came from such a personal place. How do you handle these big curveballs as they come up?
I come from a very DIY, indie film world. I’m talking about making features for less than $10,000 kind of indie. This was the Dallas film scene that I came from. A bunch of us made micro-budgeted films because we had no access to any resources or network in the industry. You had to figure it out. There’s no other way. Do you want to make this film or not? In the case of ALL THAT WE LOVE, it still came from that kind of mentality or survival instinct, if you want to call it that. The male actors were all ditching us so what was there to lose? I challenged myself to do a pass of the script, change the gender, and see what happens. In that process, I was surprised to find that it made more sense for the lead character to be a woman.
What excited me most about this change was that Margaret was way more interesting for the role than any male actor we had been talking to. When you’re trying to get an indie film made, you’re always looking for what makes it unique, for the fresh take, and for us that ended up being Margaret. Did you have any reservations given the majority of her work has been in stand-up or in more comedic roles?
I remember meeting Margaret for the first time in Austin after her comedy show. The conversation was very meaningful in understanding how she connected to the material. She’s a very big dog person and the themes of addiction that are in the film were all meaningful to her. She just got it. I also found her to be a little shy, with an introspective nature that mirrors her character. Comedians can transition to drama effortlessly. After all, a lot of comedy comes from real pain and Margaret knows how to tap into that. Comedy is so much harder than drama, and I have a lot of respect for comedians. I was going by that sort of faith that she could pull it off. And she did!
Most movies have many producers and this one is no different. You started with Jonathan Duffy and Kelly Williams, who had produced PIT STOP for you, and then I came on board, and then Ley Line Entertainment. How do you manage having that many voices in the room?
Having multiple producers on the project is the reality of working on most films these days. This sounds very simplistic, but my criteria boils down to working with kind people. That’s always my mandate, whether it’s cast or crew. I just want to work with nice people. It’s weird because that’s what most of us want, but it’s not what most of us get. Some of the stories I’ve heard from other filmmakers stun me, how they suffered through working with toxic personalities, considering that the task of making a film is already so difficult. Yes, I had several producers on this film, but everyone was a good and decent person who was there for the right reason, so it wasn’t hard.
You’re the only director I’ve worked with who never asked for a producer credit.
Whoa, that’s surprising. I had no idea.
Did it ever cross your mind? It’s so common these days that the writer-director also gets a producer credit that I expected you would ask at some point, but you never did.
Producing is really hard, first and foremost, and there’s a lot about that I don’t know. On top of that, producers already don’t get recognition, especially when movies do well. Most people don’t immediately think about who produced a successful film. You have to be an industry person to have that kind of awareness. Producers generally don’t get enough credit. If I’m a writer-director and I still come in and say I want to take up space in the producing department, it feels unnecessary. If you’re a director, you’re already getting enough attention. I don’t know why we need to hog more of the spotlight. For me, it’s very much a matter of common sense. But I can also understand how it is a power struggle for directors. I personally don’t think it’s necessary.
You brought Margaret to the project and many directors would say that’s enough to earn a producing credit. But casting is part of the directing job. On one of my films, a director wanted a producer credit so I asked if he had done as much producing work as I had contributed creatively to the script and pointed out that I wasn’t asking for a writing credit. That landed with him. In the indie space we all have to wear a lot of hats and it’s your job as a director to do everything possible to get your movie made.
I totally agree with that, especially with my DIY background.
In looking at your IMDb before this chat, I thought PIT STOP was your first feature, but you made a movie in 2002 called HAPPY BIRTHDAY?
Yes, this was back in the $5,000 feature days. There’s a tier of filmmaking where the films are so small that they’re unacknowledged in the industry. David Lowery, another Texas filmmaker, is the same way. He also made a micro-budgeted film that nobody considers his debut feature. We were all in that world of making what we can when and however we can. HAPPY BIRTHDAY actually won a few jury prizes in the queer festival circuit back then and was distributed.
What happened in those 10 years between HAPPY BIRTHDAY and PIT STOP?
I had a regular full-time job, working as a copywriter for Neiman Marcus. In those years, filmmaking was occurring on a nights-and-weekends basis. I’d take annual vacation time to attend film festivals or even make a film, like CIAO. In that time, I never saw filmmaking as a viable career path. It was like a hobby.
So many people are striving to make filmmaking a sustainable career, but the truth is that for most of us, there are many other things going on behind the scenes to pay the bills. You’ve built a business as a graphic designer, which allows space to be a filmmaker. How has that grown and how has that work supported your directing career?
Being a graphic designer as a side hustle was necessary for me. It’s amusing it all evolved from doing pro bono work for my friends who needed poster artwork for their films when they premiered at festivals. The business grew organically through word of mouth. I reached a point where I realized I could quit my job and be a freelance designer because I had enough work. This was back in 2010. When I look back at those years and how I could step away to make PIT STOP and other films, I realized that not many filmmakers have this kind of freedom to go back and forth between these mediums. I could turn things on and off whenever I wanted, step back into design when I’m done with my films, and still have work waiting for me. I’m very lucky to have found my space this way. These days, you have to do that because I don’t know how anyone can make a living otherwise. If you come from money, then good for you. But for many filmmakers, if they want to keep making stuff, they need a job.
Designing for others also has this really nice mirroring effect, because I learned so much from watching other filmmakers’ films, having conversations with them, and understanding their journeys. It often feeds into my own work. It’s also a nice pick-me-up whenever I feel like it’s impossible to make another film. I would hear a client’s more challenging experience to make their film and it gave me a boost of encouragement.
It also helps to take your brain off your own projects and stop obsessing why your movie hasn’t gotten made yet. And I’m sure doing poster design also opened up your film community in a big way.
For sure. So much of it is about community, finding other like-minded people, knowing when to ask for advice or recommendations and all that kind of stuff. In that sense, it’s precious.
Speaking of community, many Dear Producer readers are in different areas of the world, wanting to be filmmakers and make their films, but who are not in the industry hub. What has the Austin community been like for you over the course of your career?
The reason I moved from Dallas to Austin was to get closer to what was happening here. There was so much going on with SXSW and the Austin Film Society. I met many filmmakers based here who make regional films, like Kat Candler, Bryan Poyser, PJ Raval, and Andrew Bujalski. I had a feeling that something exciting was happening. I moved here in 2011 and quickly immersed myself in the community and met all these different directors and producers. It was so easy. Being a queer Asian filmmaker, I was struck by how accessible and unpretentious the community was. You can go to lunch or have coffee with anyone and pick their brains, and form these lifelong friendships with them. The grants from Austin Film Society have been lifesavers. I’m lucky to have received multiple grants over the years. It’s also how I came to work with producers Kelly Williams and Jonathan Duffy, both Austinites.
Your previous film was much lower budget than ALL THAT WE LOVE and we filmed in Los Angeles not Texas. One of my favorite moments of filming was when you thought we were going to run out of money. You were worried about something small—I can’t remember what—and I assured you we weren’t going to run out of money; if we were, there’d be an actual conversation with you and wouldn’t be a surprise. How was that jump for you, going from low-budget films to having resources?
This was my first union movie and there was quite a learning curve in that regard. Being reminded that I couldn’t speak directly to the extras or that every location needed permits. Things I completely took for granted when I made smaller films in Texas. There was a disconnect in the earlier days of making ALL THAT WE LOVE for me because I kept hearing people talk about how there wasn’t enough money for this or that. I later came to realize most of our crew had worked on bigger productions so were used to more money for their departments. I was absorbing their concerns and was worried that we were in trouble and I would have to start cutting corners. I went so far as to take the bus to get to the set. I did that for a while!
That’s what it was! You were worried that production spending money on a rental car for you was going to break the bank. And you genuinely had no problem doing it, but once I realized you were taking the bus, we got you a rental car.
I was thinking, what if I save some money? I really didn’t mind using public transportation. Some of the crew found out about this and were so shocked. The director has been taking buses in LA?? For me, it always ran on time, and I found taking the bus pleasant. I got to see the city and the residents in ways I have never seen before. Ultimately, I was shocked by how much things cost to shoot a film in Los Angeles. Things I didn’t think would be a big deal in Texas would be expensive line items there.
Looking back, is there anything that could have better prepared you for the budget jump? Something we could have done to help with that?
One big thing I learned from ALL THAT WE LOVE is that it’s okay to ask questions and ask for help. The DIY mindset has made me way too self-reliant. That has unwittingly made me more reluctant to ask for support. Taking the bus to the set without telling anyone was a result of that thinking. ALL THAT WE LOVE was also the first film I made after COVID and we were still masking and following protocols. I felt I was coming out of a fog to work again and nothing felt quite clear for me. I believe this also contributed to the mentality of keeping things to myself. On top of that, masking definitely created a barrier between us and the actors. When I talked to them, they couldn’t see my face. That affected things quite a bit, and I hope we never have to make films under these circumstances again.
Stepping back and looking at your career, are you planning out your next several films or do you take it one film at a time? Do you have any sort of strategic plan?
I always have this feeling that whatever I make last might be the final film. Because it’s so hard to get something off the ground! It’s always a pleasant surprise when there’s an opportunity to make a new film. That mentality has not changed much. One of the things I am more comfortable accepting these days is that, despite what’s happening in the industry and how it’s tougher now, I feel more at peace with the idea that no matter what, I will still tell stories. Whether it gets made or not is kind of secondary. It’s more of this idea that I’m not going to stop writing them. For a lot of us, especially those who are mid-career, who have put at least 20 years into this, it’s too late to quit. There’s a certain kind of freedom from realizing it’s too late to quit, so I don’t even think about it anymore. I only ask myself: what is it that I want to write next? I think that’s the only way forward.
I recently wrote about filmmaking versus the creator economy. There’s this drive to push the creator economy into film, and vice versa. But to me, they’re two separate forms of storytelling. Yes, it’s all under the media umbrella, but how are we protecting film as an art form to keep it going? Not everything has to be about TikTok views. I’ve been trying to separate the two because I feel that if we think too much about the digital content creator space, we end up feeling that what we’re doing in the film space is not enough. Do you pay attention to other spaces, does this anxiety creep up for you too?
Paying attention to other spaces is necessary. We need to be aware of what’s going on. But it’s not helpful to measure audience and engagement as metrics of success. For me, it’s about affecting one person or a handful of people. That feels more real, and one can argue is the higher calling of why we’re doing this. Sure, we want millions of people to watch our film, but at the same time, if it impacts one person, it’s pretty fulfilling to me.
The audience’s attention span has changed drastically since we started working on this film a decade ago. When you’re writing now, do you ever think about the zeitgeist and culture and writing for the moment? Or are you writing from your heart and what stories you want to tell, because who knows when it will get made?
I definitely had writing assignments since ALL THAT WE LOVE that were going with the trends, if you want to call it that. Doing those for-hire projects gave me clarity about the kinds of stories I really wanted to tell. There’s a specific lane I want to stick to and I want to keep going down that lane even if it is unpopular. For instance, everyone frowns on drama these days. Meanwhile, dramas are still getting made. And many are still hits! It’s this weird reactionary thing that you have to tune out. You have to remind yourself that if it’s meaningful to you right now, that’s all that matters, over what other people say. Listen to that part of yourself and try not to focus on the noise surrounding it. Come to think of it, everything I’ve written from the heart so far has been made eventually.
You have a fairly positive outlook when it’s very easy to be bleak these days.
I know that when I do interviews or speak to a class, a lot of this positive outlook presents itself. I’m not masking any pessimism you might have seen over the years. It’s more about telling myself I’m ultimately an optimistic person despite the hurdles. When I vocalize my thoughts to others, it reminds me that’s how I genuinely feel, while using sarcasm and dark humor to cope with disappointments. But yes, when I talk about film with others—and even in the stories I tell—they are hopeful.
What are you looking forward to in the next year? What are you excited about right now?
There are definitely many films and shows coming up that I’m excited to see, especially works that my friends have made. Personally, it’s more important now than ever before to engage with people. I’m talking about actual in-person interactions. We have to talk ourselves out of staying at home or staying online. We need to get out, meet people, and be in spaces with humans around us, and interact or experience events with them. So much of the social divide we’re experiencing now is because we’re not doing enough of that. We must learn how to humanize each other again.
ALL THAT WE LOVE is available to watch on Apple / iTunes, Amazon Prime Video, Fandango At Home, Google Play or via your cable provider.