Daily Inspiration: Meet Jingwei Bu

Today we’d like to introduce you to Jingwei Bu

Hi Jingwei, please kick things off for us with an introduction to yourself and your story.
As a filmmaker, I’ve been fortunate to tell many stories through film, but my own life has always been deeply intertwined with cinema as well.

Growing up, my parents’ divorce meant that I spent most of my childhood in boarding school, often feeling homesick and alone. Even when I returned home on weekends, I struggled to connect with my father. Movies became my refuge. At night, I would hide under my dormitory blanket with an MP4 player, watching films on its tiny screen, making my otherwise monotonous boarding school life feel a little more exciting. On weekends, my father and I would occasionally go to the movies, and on the drive back, we would discuss the film—but rarely talked about my life at school.

From a young age, I knew I wanted to become a filmmaker. This dream never wavered, though it was an unconventional and even rebellious choice in my hometown—a traditional city in northern China, also the birthplace of Confucius. Pursuing a career in film was rare, but I knew I had to be brave and resolute.

In 2017, at the age of 22, I impulsively booked a solo flight to Los Angeles—I wanted to see Hollywood, the dreamland of cinema, with my own eyes. It was my first time traveling so far alone. Freshly licensed in China, I rented a car at LAX upon arrival. But as soon as I hit the freeway, the overwhelming traffic made me panic. Gripping the steering wheel tightly, afraid to change lanes or make a turn, I somehow ended up circling the airport five or six times. That moment of helplessness was a sobering reminder that the road to chasing my dreams would not be smooth.

Still, I was eager to make my pilgrimage to Hollywood Boulevard. I watched La La Land at the TCL Chinese Theatre, and when the credits rolled, I wiped away my tears and promised myself that I would find my own “La La Land” one day.

In 2018, I was accepted into the graduate film program at ArtCenter College of Design in Pasadena. Hollywood was now within reach, and with every lesson I learned, I became bolder in crafting my own cinematic world. However, my studies were abruptly disrupted by the pandemic. Unable to graduate on time, I had to return to China.

That was a period of uncertainty. Alone in a quarantine hotel, I felt like I had left so many dreams unfinished at school. But I refused to let opportunities slip away. On a whim, I applied for an internship at Warner Bros. China in Beijing, never expecting to get it. But to my surprise, I did. At the moment I stepped out of the quarantine hotel, I dragged all my belongings—three suitcases I had brought back from L.A, straight to Beijing, that marked the beginning of my career.

Now, I have more opportunities to tell the stories I want to tell, although we seem to be living in an increasingly divided era, I still believed that cultural differences and national borders should not be barriers that keep us from standing together. As a filmmaker who grew up in China and studied in the U.S., I feel a deep sense of purpose. Film is not just an art form or a commercial product—it is a universal language that transcends words. I hope to build bridges through cinema, fostering understanding and bridging divides. I believe in the power of storytelling, and more importantly, I believe in the power of cinema.

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?
Unlike Chinese Americans who grew up in the U.S., I only came to study here at the graduate level, and cultural differences were my biggest challenge at the time.

One moment that stands out vividly in my memory happened on my very first day of class. I was the first to arrive in the classroom, where I met my directing professor, Victoria Hochberg. She was in her sixties and a highly respected filmmaker in Hollywood. Wanting to show my utmost respect, I greeted her with the formal title Madam, just as I had learned from textbooks. I still remember the look of surprise on her face—almost as if she had just encountered an alien. She was curious why I wouldn’t simply call her by her name. I explained that, in my hometown, teachers and mentors are figures to be revered and looked up to. But Victoria told me, “In this classroom, we are equals—we are collaborators. The most important thing isn’t just respect and obedience, but the collision of ideas.”

That conversation left a profound impact on me. As I progressed in my filmmaking journey, I often found myself at difficult crossroads. Whenever I felt unsure about a decision, I would remind myself to listen to my own voice and not be too easily swayed by external expectations.

Another unforgettable challenge happened while I was shooting a short film in Pasadena. I was casting for a mother’s role online and finally found the perfect actress. She even lived in Pasadena, which meant we wouldn’t need to cover additional travel expenses. Everything seemed ideal—until the night before the shoot, when I was confirming the location with her. That was when I realized she actually lived in Pasadena, Texas! It had never occurred to me that another city with the same name existed.

By then, it was obviously too late for her to fly from Texas to L.A., and rescheduling wasn’t an option. In the end, we had to improvise. We ended up casting the real-life mother of the actor playing the son. Even though she wasn’t a professional actress, she delivered a surprisingly strong performance, turning what could have been a disaster into a happy accident.

These experiences—both the cultural surprises and the unexpected production challenges—have shaped the way I approach filmmaking. They have taught me to stay adaptable, to embrace different perspectives, and, most importantly, to trust my instincts.

Thanks – so what else should our readers know about your work and what you’re currently focused on?
I am a film director and screenwriter, but above all, I consider myself a storyteller. Film is both my window to the world and the lens through which I observe it.

In my work, I am particularly drawn to narratives centered around marginalized individuals and those living on the fringes of society. These characters are often overlooked in mainstream storytelling, yet their experiences offer profound insights into the world we live in.

For example, my first short film in the U.S., Lily, tells the story of a sex worker in her sixties who leads a double life. By day, she is Lily, a call girl; by night, she is a devoted grandmother living with her single-mother daughter, caring for their family. Beneath her composed exterior, however, lies a long-suppressed desire—to embark on the romantic road trip she has dreamed of since her youth. When one of her clients unexpectedly passes away, she finds herself in possession of a vintage T-Bird. Seizing the moment, she escapes the confines of her life and drives along the coastal highway, finally setting off on the journey she always longed for.

Another project I completed last year, A Strange Bird, explores themes of identity and self-acceptance. The film is set in a small town in Guangdong, China, where thousands of factories manufacture women’s lingerie. It follows a male factory worker whose secret love poem inadvertently reveals his inner struggle with gender and self-identity. In an environment dominated by hyper-masculinity, he becomes the target of ridicule and scorn. Ultimately, he is forced to fight—both literally and metaphorically—to defend his dignity.

Perhaps the most serendipitous moment in my career came in 2022 when I had the opportunity to work as a screenwriter and assistant director on the theatrical feature Home Coming (Wan Li Gui Tu). This film, based on true events, revolves around diplomacy and human resilience. It tells the story of a Chinese diplomat who, during a civil war in a North African country, successfully evacuates hundreds of stranded compatriots—despite having no weapons or resources at his disposal. The film brought together a cast of over 400 actors from different countries, and as someone who has lived and studied in both China and the U.S., I saw this project as a unique chance to bridge cultures. Just like the diplomat in the story, I aspire to facilitate understanding between the East and the West—only, I do so through storytelling.

I believe that film has the power to connect people beyond borders, languages, and backgrounds. My goal is to continue using cinema as a medium for dialogue, empathy, and cultural exchange.

We’d love to hear about any fond memories you have from when you were growing up?
One of the most amusing and unforgettable experiences from my childhood is, unsurprisingly, related to film.

My parents divorced when I was seven, and when I was ten, I spent a summer with my dad. You know, two guys living together isn’t always easy—especially when one of them is a busy entrepreneur trying to get his business off the ground. At the time, my dad was working and living in a tiny bachelor apartment, with stacks of cardboard boxes filled with product packaging piled all the way to the ceiling.

One afternoon, I was completely engrossed in watching my favorite superhero cartoon when my dad suddenly switched the channel. The movie Titanic was playing. He told me that it was the first film he had ever watched in a theater with my mom, and that back then, tickets were incredibly hard to get. He insisted that I watch it with him. But at that moment, I didn’t care about Titanic—I just wanted to finish my cartoon. Still, I had no choice but to sit there, sulking, as I watched a submarine dive into the ocean, searching for something.

But soon, my frustration faded, and I found myself completely captivated by the film. To this day, I still remember the sheer awe I felt as a ten-year-old watching the grand ship break apart and sink into the icy waters. It was a moment of profound impact—not just because of the tragedy itself, but also because it was the first time I truly recognized the power of Hollywood filmmaking. That afternoon planted the seed of my dream to one day pursue a career in film.

However, the most hilarious part of the experience came later. When the car sex scene between Jack and Rose appeared on screen, you can imagine how awkward it was for a young boy to watch such a moment—sitting right next to his father. At that age, I was still naive about sex, but I instinctively felt embarrassed. My face grew hot, and I was terrified that my dad would notice. In a panic, I grabbed a bowl of soup from the table, held it up to my face, and pretended to drink—stealing glances at the screen through the tiny gap between the bowl and my hands.

That afternoon remains one of the brightest memories of my childhood. It was the first time I truly understood the magic of cinema, and in many ways, it was my first step toward Hollywood. But beyond that, those moments with my father—awkward, funny, and rare—became something I would cherish forever.

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