We were lucky to catch up with Grace Hanna recently and have shared our conversation below.

Alright, Grace thanks for taking the time to share your stories and insights with us today. What’s been the most meaningful project you’ve worked on?

As a director, one of the most meaningful projects I’ve worked on was my short film, “Lola,” (which means “grandma” in Filipino). Growing up, my grandmother practically raised me. She was a teacher who taught me how to read and write long before I started school. More importantly, she was a storyteller and instilled in me a love of story.

When my grandmother first started developing Alzheimer’s, it felt like I was living with a ghost of the person I knew. It was an odd limbo, a longing for connection with a lost version of someone I loved.

The last time I saw my grandmother was at her home in the Philippines, long after she had forgotten who anyone in our family was. A few days into my trip, I wrote her a letter. I wanted to thank her for everything she had done for me. But I couldn’t bring myself to do that. Instead, I bought mango ice cream from a corner store. I prepared a bowl for her, and we sat and watched a Filipino soap opera on TV. The gravity of the situation finally hit me: my grandma was gone. Then, all of a sudden, she slid her ice cream bowl over to me and told me to have some. It was a small gift, a tiny moment that felt like magic. And it was the closure I needed.

The memories I have of my grandmother are always with me. I think “Lola” captures this feeling: our time on earth is way too short — all we can do is enjoy every moment we have left. I want people to realize that our loved ones live on in us and the stories we tell about them.

Grace, before we move on to more of these sorts of questions, can you take some time to bring our readers up to speed on you and what you do?

I think everyone’s journey in film is so different. Even though I went to undergrad for Film & TV, I was still finding my voice. I managed to forge a (very, very long) path for myself. After graduating from NYU, I was accepted into NBCUniversal’s Page Program. I had an assignment at Universal Pictures, and I realized I wanted to be on the creative side of things. Afterward, I started working at Montecito Pictures, where I assisted throughout the Ghostbusters’ reboot in 2016. Then I found my real love: TV. I worked for a producing television director, who I was able to shadow. I got to see how a pilot director sets the tone of a television series; more importantly, I watched him direct. These experiences solidified something I always knew deep down: I wanted to be a director.

So, in between teaching and volunteering, I went to grad school at AFI. I’ve realized that writing and directing fuel a fire in me that isn’t just for myself, but for others in my community who see themselves as outsiders, who aren’t represented, who feel bad about being different. I love exploring different genres in their work — finding beauty in tragedy and magic in the mundane is at the heart of who I am and the stories I tell.

Let’s talk about resilience next – do you have a story you can share with us?

I’ve always been a really stubborn person, so I’m happy to share a story about that! When I first started to get into filmmaking. I wanted to apply to NYU for film production. But there was a significant complicating factor: I’m a first-gen, and my parents are immigrants. There was no way they were letting me apply to film school. They told me what I needed to do: get a sensible degree at NYU, go to grad school, and if I still wanted to do something creative — I could teach.

Instead of listening to them, I started to put together a portfolio for film school. I remember I had to have my guidance counselor send it in for me! Looking back, I didn’t really think I’d get in. But I didn’t want to spend my life wondering “what if.” Months later, I was sure I was rejected. Until I came home one day and my mom was holding a big envelope. I’ve never felt so relieved and terrified. Before I could explain anything, she tore the envelope open. It was like an awful cliche in slow motion. She looked down, then looked at me, “Why does this say Tisch School of the Arts?”

Our house was icy; my parents and I fought constantly. When I left for school, my dad didn’t help me move in or talk to me until I came home for Christmas. Don’t worry though, we’re good now! But if there’s a lesson to all of it, it’s that you have to fight for the things you love. Even when it doesn’t make sense to anyone but you.

Is there a particular goal or mission driving your creative journey?

Whenever I go back to my “why,” I always think back to this one story called, “The Window.” It’s about a man lying in a hospital bed recuperating. There’s another man next to him who has a view of the outside. The second man describes everything he sees out of the window to the first man. The more he talks about the beautiful view, the more jealous the first man becomes. He wants the view for himself — and he gets it. But when he finally looks out of the window… All he sees is a brick wall. Everything came from the imagination of the other man.

Looking at a brick wall and inventing intricate and relatable stories: this is my job as a director. Finding beauty in tragedy and magic in the mundane — seeing the world in a completely different way — is at the heart of who I am and the stories I want to tell.

Contact Info:

• Website: thatsjustgrace.com
• Instagram: instagram.com/_gracehanna

Image Credits
Brandon Walsh