When I began this project, my expectations were low. I wanted to “try directing” after years of performing. In fact, this film only exists because in early 2023 I asked a television director if I could shadow her, and she advised me (very wisely) to direct something first. Basically, Gloria started out as a homework assignment! I treated it like that for a while, as something inconsequential standing in the way of my actual goal. But as I brought on collaborators, each of them an artist who had a vision for the piece, it became clear that we had an opportunity to make something meaningful. The only thing standing between me and becoming a director was my own commitment. I said yes.

Two years later, the original task of “directing something” blossomed into a series of collaborations with artists I’ve long admired, curveballs that took many months and people to solve, even generous DMs from people who watched the film and wanted to communicate how much they loved it. Premiering this film feels like one of the defining moments of my career thus far.

I encountered countless moments of self-doubt. In the beginning, I wondered if I’d ever find anyone who would want to work on it with me. In production, I fought off the insecurity that I was one of the least experienced people on set. In post, I worried I didn’t have the eye to actually bring it all together. Even though at times I felt immense anxiety and overwhelm, I tried at each stage of the process to sharpen and clarify the visions, to communicate with my collaborators the best I could, and carve out the best version of the story I was trying to tell.

There were times on set when I felt a euphoric sense of “yes,” of tapping into my own intuition. I often didn’t have the words to describe why particular moments felt right, but knew that my breath and body had shifted while watching the monitor. We shot on film, so there was no way to watch things twice –– I just had to stay present, watch carefully, and listen to my gut. I have a vivid memory of filming what became one of the final shots. Through the monitor, I saw a flicker of something –– perhaps fear, or resolution? –– across Emily Kuroda’s face. After she disappeared offscreen, cinematographer Caitlin Machak and I looked at each other and both of us welled up with tears. It felt clear in that moment we were making something that might be understood deeply by people.