Your first documentary, Ver, Veracruz, explores the history, culture, and identity of your hometown through the perspectives of three generations. What inspired you to tell this story, and what do you hope audiences take away from it?
To be honest, my inspiration came from life and a series of unexpected circumstances. Before making this documentary, I had never really considered myself a documentary filmmaker, as my previous work had primarily consisted of narrative films. That being said, I had always known that I wanted to make a film in Veracruz, where I'm from. I just imagined it would happen much later in my career, perhaps in a similar way to how Alfonso Cuarón returned to Mexico City to make Roma.
The project really began back in February, when my former NYU professor, Karl Bardosh, challenged me to make a film entirely on my phone. He also told me about an opportunity to screen films made with smartphones at the Marché du Film in Cannes. At first, I thought it would be foolish not to take advantage of the opportunity. But despite my excitement, I remember feeling overwhelmed. I didn't have a script, actors, or many of the resources I normally associated with making a “proper” film.
Then, one day, while driving along Boulevard Ávila Camacho, looking out at the Gulf of Mexico and the city's landscape, I had a realization: I already had my protagonist. I already had my actor. It was the beautiful city of Veracruz. That was the moment my journey to create a documentary honoring the history, culture, and people of my hometown truly began. Initially, I envisioned making something inspired by the city symphony films of the 1920s, which captured the rhythm and everyday life of cities through visual storytelling. However, I wasn't sure there would be an audience for that kind of experimental film. Instead, I decided to honor the spirit of those early films through the documentary's opening and closing montages while embracing a more traditional documentary structure, built around a simple guiding question: What makes Veracruz a special place?
As for what I hope audiences take away from the film, first and foremost, I hope they develop a better understanding of Veracruz's importance, not only in Mexican history but also in the history of the American continent. My goal with Ver, Veracruz was always to explore what makes the city special. However, I don't consider the documentary to be the definitive portrait of Veracruz. I don't think any single film, especially a sixteen-minute documentary, could possibly capture everything that makes a place so culturally and historically rich. Instead, I hope the film inspires curiosity. I'd love for someone to watch it and think, “You know what? I'd really like to visit Veracruz.”
I'd love for them to experience the city themselves. To sit down at a café and enjoy a traditional lechero at El Gran Café de La Parroquia, an institution with more than two centuries of history. To eat a gorda or a picada, dance danzón, listen to La Bamba, or discover the music of Maestro Ryszard Siwy, who composed the documentary's score and whose work can also be found on his YouTube channel. I also hope people become curious enough to explore the city's history beyond what I could include in sixteen minutes. Veracruz has played an extraordinary role in Mexico's development. It served as the country's capital on two occasions, and its port has historically been one of the most important gateways into Mexico. In many ways, I think Veracruz's relationship with immigration can be compared to New York's, particularly during the early twentieth century. People arrived from different parts of the world, bringing their traditions, music, food, and cultural identities. Those influences helped shape the Veracruz we know today. And I think that's something worth exploring because Veracruz isn't simply a place with a rich past. It's a city whose identity continues to evolve.
But beyond the historical and cultural aspects, I also hope audiences are entertained. At the end of the day, I'm a filmmaker, and I want people to enjoy watching the documentary, connect with its subjects, and hopefully feel something. And, of course, I hope people support the film. On a more personal level, I'd love for Ver, Veracruz to inspire other filmmakers from Veracruz to tell their own stories and contribute to the growth of our local film industry. There are so many stories waiting to be told, and I genuinely believe Veracruz has enormous cinematic potential. I'd also love for filmmakers elsewhere in the world to feel inspired to explore their own cities through cinema. One of my original influences was the city symphony movement of the 1920s, and I think there's something wonderful about the possibility of bringing that tradition back in 2026. Imagine filmmakers from different parts of the world creating their own cinematic portraits of the places they call home, preserving their architecture, their people, their traditions, and their everyday lives. Maybe we could even see a renaissance of the city symphony genre.
Ultimately, I hope Ver, Veracruz encourages people to be curious, not just about Veracruz, but about the places and communities around them. Because sometimes, the most extraordinary stories are found in the places we've known all our lives.
How has your approach to storytelling evolved since your time at Tisch, and how is that growth reflected in your films?
To be honest, I'm not entirely sure, because I still consider myself a filmmaker who is constantly learning, experimenting, and discovering his own voice. Throughout my career, I've explored a variety of genres and storytelling approaches, from thrillers, romances, and dramas to silent films inspired by Charlie Chaplin, and now, with Ver, Veracruz, documentary filmmaking. I think that variety reflects my curiosity as a filmmaker and my desire to explore different ways of telling stories rather than limiting myself to a particular genre or style.
Additionally, much of my time at Tisch coincided with the COVID-19 pandemic, which inevitably affected my experience as a film student. Because of the restrictions and circumstances surrounding that period, I wasn't able to make as many films as I imagine I would have under normal circumstances. In some ways, I feel that I'm still exploring creative possibilities that I might otherwise have discovered during those years. However, one thing that has remained constant is my curiosity. I'm still fascinated by the technologies and techniques that allow us to tell stories in new ways. Whether it's experimenting with different cameras, exploring new filmmaking tools, or embracing the possibilities of shooting an entire documentary on a smartphone, I believe that remaining open to new approaches is an essential part of growing as an artist.
Naturally, as I've grown older, my interests, experiences, and perspectives have evolved. The themes and ideas that interest me today aren't necessarily the same ones that interested me when I first arrived at Tisch. I think that's an inevitable part of growing, not just as a filmmaker, but as a person. Perhaps Ver, Veracruz reflects that evolution. It's a film I probably wouldn't have imagined making when I was younger, particularly because I had always been drawn to narrative filmmaking. Yet, it allowed me to explore themes of identity, memory, belonging, and my relationship with my hometown in a way that felt both personal and creatively liberating.
Ultimately, I don't think I've arrived at a definitive storytelling style, and I'm not particularly interested in rushing that process. I'd rather remain curious, experiment, make mistakes, and continue discovering what kind of filmmaker I want to become. Because I believe that curiosity and passion are essential to finding that initial spark that makes you want to create a work of art in the first place.
