Today we’d like to introduce you to Jadene Meyer.
Hi Jadene, it’s an honor to have you on the platform. Thanks for taking the time to share your story with us – to start maybe you can share some of your backstory with our readers?
Today I’m an actor, writer, producer, and documentary filmmaker, but for much of my childhood, all I wanted was to be a lawyer. You laugh, but I was genuinely obsessed with the idea of a courtroom- powerful voices, debating morality and ethics. My friends wanted to go to space or be flying trapezists. I wanted to cross-examine. What I didn’t realize, though, was that everything I loved about law was actually called being an actor.
I started acting at 17. My prep school was known for funneling Ivy-League acceptances and future financiers. I wasn’t in any plays, and I was terrified of theater kids. But, I fell in love with acting while reading The Tempest in English class. I loved the way words mumbled out of a nervous classmate, boomed from a teacher’s pet, and barely scraped out of a self-proclaimed jock. The classroom became a stage. And when the Playwright’s Festival rolled around, I wanted in.
I wrote this dramatic monologue, and I didn’t land the part, but I assistant directed a play about Icarus. Like him, I had flown too close to the sun. Still, I was hooked. I read the script obsessively, gave notes, imagined what could be. From there, I stayed with it. I got lucky with some early wins, signed with great agents, and eventually got into NYU Tisch Drama, where I’d spend the next four years fully immersed in theater and film conservatories.
When I started out, I didn’t see many people who looked like me on screen. That lit a fire. Part of that is representation in the industry, but another part, is the cultural barrier to entry for many Asian Americans. The prevailing message is still, be a “professional.” Don’t chase a fool’s dream. I’m incredibly lucky that my parents saw past that.
My heritage is an important element of what I do. I’m half Korean, a quarter Japanese, and a quarter German and English— a mix of people who historically haven’t gotten along. I feel more connected to everyone because of that. It’s always been easy for me to slip into the shoes of others. Finding my own pair has been the deeper and more rewarding challenge.
Would you say it’s been a smooth road, and if not what are some of the biggest challenges you’ve faced along the way?
I’ve been lucky. Obstacles are inevitable. How you face them, choose them— that’s what defines you. At the end of the day, it’s just a rock up a hill. You have to love yours.
Presence is more crucial to me and my work than the idea of struggle. I think there’s an element of myth here, that to create your best work you have to struggle, when I think the greatest task is to face your own blade and then to find a reason to laugh with your friends later. One thing that keeps me sane is, I try not to think about the industry at large. There’s a kind of self-revolution that comes from opting out.
I try to keep my eyes young, and I’m rarely bored. The beauty is in time, in zooming out, and making sense of the puzzle. My greatest gift is an enduring affection for that process and evolution. Acting with focus, eventually becomes proverbial, a way of living, and of helping yourself and others.
There’s something beautiful about the beginnings of things, even when they’re less sophisticated. Like how cave paintings are seemingly rudimentary but actually deeply symbolic. They’re our earliest attempt at making sense of the world and how its pieces move together.
Appreciate you sharing that. What else should we know about what you do?
My work as an actor and writer centers on connecting to humanity, faith, and humor. I’m drawn to stories that feel real, even when imagined. There’s no finish line, just about staying in it, curious and alive.
My senior year at Tisch, I started exploring documentary filmmaking. After graduation, I received a scholarship to study at Hanyang University in Seoul, where I discovered the seed for Guryong, a short documentary about South Korea’s last shantytown. We built an international team, and the villagers, gifted us their trust. That experience lives with me and deepened my why.
Back in the states, I Co-Founded Parent Theatre Company with my close friends and fellow artists, Lola Arenas and Esther Kohl. Our first show, Dance Nation by Clare Barron, premiered Off-Broadway with a cast and crew of 17 artists. Producing and acting in that piece, shared with me what becomes possible with shared passion and will.
Before I left New York, I co-produced a short film with Jaya Harper, directed by my dear friend Chiara Aurelia, starring her and Graham Phillips on 35 mm. I then staged a reading of my surrealist musical American Girl at The Great Room at A.R.T./New York. That process was like a mad science experiment. With Lola co-directing, Cooper Parson on grand piano, and a gifted cast, the process was a surreal gift. Every rehearsal was so funny and absurd, always fresh. That’s the feeling I seek in all my work now. Acting can be so consumptive. You have to really love your characters and going there.
What do you like and dislike about the city?
I grew up in Hollywood, which I’ve learned people find hard to believe, everywhere else in the country. “Wait, LA, LA?” Yep, LA, LA. I have a great team here, and for now, there’s nowhere I’d rather be.
I think, to truly appreciate Los Angeles can be a spacious task. It’s not an obviously beautiful place. New York is this distractingly alive, aesthetic fever dream, and it’s easy to imagine yourself as some Prodigal Carrie, filled with new ideas and language. LA is about personal history. It invites you to draw from your own life. It works for me. I think the best work is lived in, when you’re actively present in the flow of humanity.
At first, though, coming back home from New York felt almost voyeuristic. It’s like I saw life through my own eyes for the first time again, and then a fly buzzes in the room, and you’re like, oh, right, this is happening now. Los Angeles has it’s beauty, the motels, the palm trees, the stars on sidewalks. I love it most at night, when it’s dark and it’s perfectly 57 degrees. LA in the 50’s… There’s something about it. I find it easier to be honest here, and to resist an undertow of influence. There’s this lovely possibility of intentional participation here.
And I get to be near my family: my parents, brother, Halmoni. I used to be the first to say, “I’m never going back there. The city doesn’t make sense.” It doesn’t, and yet here I am, and happily.
There’s a form of communion here in distance. And so much more space! Space to work on screenplays, practice my Korean, move, practice, play. It’s soberingly serious, and then, not at all. Just to have fun and embrace the unknown; I never want to forget that.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://www.jadenemeyer.com
- Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/jadenemeyer/
- Other: https://www.parentheatre.com
Image Credits
Stephanie Girard
Ella Mettler
Ghawam Kouchaki
Betil Gorgu
Joe Caster
