A Full Circle
Filmmaker and multidisciplinary artist H.P. Mendoza sits during the Substrate Arts Winter 2023 Pop-up on Dec. 5, 2023 at Magic Theatre. Photo credit: Alejandro Ramos.
Mendoza is best known for his work as star, screenwriter, composer and lyricist on “Colma: The Musical” (2006), as well as his art-house horror film, “I Am a Ghost” (2014) called “H.P. Mendoza’s objet d’art” by Dennis Harvey of Variety. After his directorial debut “Fruit Fly” (2009), David Lamble of the San Francisco Bay Area Reporter dubbed Mendoza “San Francisco’s queer cinema poet.”
Julius Rea: I really want to thank you so deeply for not just coming tonight and not just learning a little bit more about these artists who are going to be featured, but also being a part of the interview process, which is very rare. Once again, give yourselves a round of applause, or snaps, absolutely. Yeah, snaps are the queer claps.
I want to introduce our first artist, H.P. Mendoza, please come on down to the stage. For those of you who do not know, H.P. Mendoza is a San Francisco, right now Mission-based filmmaker and artist. You have two decades of… is that right?
H.P. Mendoza: That sounds about right… Going on about 20 years of independent [filmmaking].
Julius: I’d love to start off with discussing your films “Colma: The Musical,” “Fruit Fly” and ”Bitter Melon.” What have you found as a useful tool when creating and then advocating for Queer or Filipino narratives—as an artist or filmmaker specifically?
H.P.: There is no clear path for people like us. You go to film school and you’re told that there’s one path, and it doesn’t actually factor people’s individual experiences. You have to go out in the real world and make bespoke fixes for whatever problems come your way.
For my situation, I might be lucky in that the way I want to tell my stories is through a Trojan Horse method, where I definitely have a lot to say about social issues or [it] might have to do with identity or even current politics. I’m not afraid to make a movie that will be dated. “Fruit Fly” is so 2010… Some people asked: Don’t you wanna make this timeless?
And I was like: No! Why?
Let me make a movie that feels like it takes place in the time it took place. And because of that, I might be dipping into the politics of the day. And, I think “Fruit Fly,” people were like: Maybe you don’t wanna do that.
And you know what I love: I love when San Franciscans watch “Fruit Fly” now in 2023 and they’re like: “Wow, politics haven’t changed! Gentrification is still the same.”
All of these things are pretty topical, and I feel like if you write what you know, it immediately becomes universal… I attack everything from a Trojan Horse perspective. For example, with “Fruit Fly,” the easy way for me to get people excited, at the time, was to say: “Oh, it’s about a Fillipina performance artist who’s trying to find herself. But when she moves to San Francisco, the only thing she finds about herself is that she’s a fag hag.” And, of course, the gays love hearing that, right? Because they’re watching the movie and I’m telling them: Hey, by the way, don’t use that phrase “fag hag.”
So, that’s a Trojan Horse, but then the other Trojan Horse is that I’m working my way in with a big Trojan Horse that looks a it’s a big ‘ole piñata, just ready to have fun and play a lotta music while you dance around it. And then, all of the sudden, the trojans jump out and say: Hey! Let’s talk about misogyny. Let’s talk about racism. Let’s talk about San Francisco. Let’s talk about rent control.
…I love that Jason Sanders from Filmmaker Magazine, he says: There’s enough in “Fruit Fly” to fuel a Masters’ thesis. And I will take that as a compliment, because when you watch the trailer or when you think of “Fruit Fly” as a whole, it just feel like it’s a fun, super-low-budget, scrappy musical. But if you let it wash over you, there’s a lot of stuff to say.
That is my blessing, I guess, that I do want to make Trojan Horses. I do aim to entertain first. I think the toughest sell was probably “Bitter Melon,” right? Because that’s the film that I did that was the most overt with it’s themes.
There’s literally a monologue in there from a woman talking about “male bullshit.” It’s probably my most blatant piece, and I don’t take it back. I think I earned the right to make that movie. That wasn’t that much of a Trojan Horse; however, it still is because I get to say: Oh, it’s a funny dark comedy about like… imagine if a family tries to kill the black sheep of the family.
And everyone is like: Oh yeah, we all dream that scenario.
And then they get into it… And again, Trojan Horse of a murder-comedy, and the trojans jump out and say: Hey! Let’s talk about masculinity! Let’s talk about the cycles of violence. Let’s talk about a woman’s place in the family—particularly in the Filipino community and what that means for immigrant parents.
Julius: Can you talk about a time when a journalist or critic simply did not understand the vision or intent? Or when you were shocked by how one of your works came across to audiences?
H.P.: … I remember when [a Filipino news piece about “Colma: The Musical] came out, [the writer] just tore me apart. She was like: What kind of Filipino would make this kind of a role model for the people out there? You know, like, these children smoking marijuana and drinking under age and he’s queer and doesn’t even know his sexuality.
And I was thinking to myself: No, he knows what his sexuality is: he’s gay. I don’t know, maybe you didn’t read it right.
And it hit me really hard. It hit me hard because I remember we had a bunch of good reviews in 2006 and a few bad ones that I was okay with. One of them being by this one blogger who… gave the movie a “C” [rating].
He said: H.P. Mendoza, he can carry a tune. He writes a clever lyric, and it’s a catchy one at that. But let’s face it, he is downright ugly.
And I remember my husband, who is in the audience right now, he was livid. He was like: “How dare you fucking say that?” And I was okay with that. You can’t please everyone, right? I’m used to people hating me, but to get that from the Philippine News, was very specific—especially for her to call me out for being a bad Filipino.
And I remember thinking, okay, I should be aware of this. I’m not just too gay for the Filipinos, maybe I’m too Filipino American for the Filipinos.
A lot of the values that I have in my films might be American, right? And I think it’s just indicative of just how diasporic our landscape is. You know, so fast forward to 2018, twelve years later, “Bitter Melon” comes out and my elevator pitch was always: You know those Christmas comedies where you see the family get back together for the holidays and hilarity ensues? And the hilarity question here is that everyone’s getting back to the holidays to kill the black sheep of the family.
And I said yes, it’s it’s comedy. It’s a dark comedy.
And you talk to people who are used to dark comedies, and it sounds like it’s right up their alley. But the interesting thing is: I think in Philippine cinema, you have a lot of dark movies and a lot of comedies. And when you see the Filipino national attempt at dark comedy, they kind of bounce back and forth. It’s never going to be a dark comedy, it might be dark and has comedic elements or it might be comedic with dark elements, but they’ll never do the black satire, you know?
And “Bitter Melon” was that, and I got a lot of pushback because “Bitter Melon” was funded by ABS-CBN who is the largest media conglomerate in the Philippines. And, you know, they were branching out, they wanted to throw an American a bone, they had an initiative called cinematografo, where they were funding Filipino American films. Now, it was $100,000. Not a lot of money, right? …I don’t know how many of you guys feel about or follow independent film, but today [December 5, 2023], the Independent Spirit Awards were announced. And you look at like, all the independent films that were announced today (and these are independent films, right?) and like the lowest budget was like 8 million, you know. And like “Bitter Melon” costs $100,000, right?
And the funny thing is, I remember thinking: Well, that’s a that’s a drop in the bucket, whatever doesn’t mean that much. But still, that’s still $100,000—that was not mine—and still… it was way more money than than I’ve ever worked with. “Colma: The Musical” cost $15,000. You know, you couldn’t buy a used Honda Civic for that.
With “Bitter Melon” being $100,000, I always said: For as long as I don’t have a studio breathing down my neck, why the fuck would I tell the story that someone else has told?
But it’s really interesting when you have different values, you have people coming from a different country and when they want to see the success of an American film, but they don’t want to push the envelope. Because, whenever an executive or non-creative, whenever a rich person tells you they want “bold and innovative,” they don’t want bold and innovative. They want something that reminds them of the last bold and innovative thing they saw. They do not want anything new, and “Bitter Melon” was new. And I pushed back and it exists. And that’s my victory.
Julius: Well, I guess that my follow up is talking about—and we’ll get to your latest film soon—the progression of funds that go into a film and also how large a crew is, and, you know, how close the vision is. So I guess that my overall question is: Can you talk about “Colma” (and also some of your smaller films like “I Am a Ghost”) and how the smaller films with a smaller crew and also smaller budget, maybe, were vastly different—either in the production or in the overall vision—from some of your larger pieces?
H.P.: “I Am a Ghost” was a film that I did after my directorial debut [“Fruit Fly”].
[Applause.]
H.P.: Wow, thank you! …”I Am a Ghost” cost $7,500. It was even cheaper; it was like half the price. We raised $1,000 on Kickstarter to pay me to do post production because I did all the editing, but our crew was literally me, my husband Mark, the lead actress, her stunt double and a makeup artist… so it’s a very ragtag crew, right?
…I always believe, for as long as I don’t have people breathing down my neck, why tell a story the same way? Why, why try to ape anyone else, right? But in this case, I was aping in aid of homage and “I Am a Ghost” was my homage to a lot of European cinema. I thought to myself: What if Ingmar Bergman had to do “Poltergeist,” right? Like, what if Ingmar Bergman had to do a haunted house film? What would that feel like?
And I was really into persona… I really wanted to make Bergman film with a ghost in it—but from the point of view of a ghost. And, for $7,500, I don’t have anyone telling me what to do. And I think that was probably freest I’ve ever felt. And, you know, there are gradations, I can like rank my levels of freedom, right? But that is the freest because that was me and Mark’s money; we did it all ourselves. And, frankly, because it is a horror film, it’s the one film that still kind of makes us any money because like every Halloween, Shudder puts it out, right? Or like there’ll be some like “top horror films you’ve never heard of” [and it] gets put on some ranker list.
But then, in the past year (it’s celebrating its 10th year anniversary next year, by the way), a bunch of trans filmmakers were like, wait a minute… Wait, what is the hidden theme here? What’s going on from scene to scene? And they started analyzing all the shots, and Salem Void, who is a trans blogger of color and film aficionado, was talking about: Holy shit! This [film describes] the trans experience.
And I was like: Finally! 10 years later and someone like catches on! And I’m not complaining, I’m glad, right? All this stuff is so sublimated. But then, all of a sudden, within that year, it shot up again during Pride, right? But to have it shoot up during Pride and Halloween, I’m like: look at what happens when you give people complete freedom? This is arguably my most popular film now.
Hopefully my newest film will maybe be a little more popular. I don’t know. You’re catching me in the middle of this process. I just came back from a bunch of film festivals for my newest film. And but you’re about to see the trailer for it. I like to think that every step forward I take will get me a little closer to more people and a little freer to tell my story—in whatever way that might be.
Julius: So, “The Secret Art of Human Flight” is H.P. Mendoza’s latest film. But there’s also something really interesting about this project in the trajectory of your whole career because it seems that this is the largest budget film you’ve ever done and also with the largest amount of potential marketing around it (that you did not have to do yourself) and also with content and characters [that make it] the straightest and the whitest film that you have created.
H.P.: Yes, absolutely. It is the most cishet, white thing I’ve ever done.
[Laughter.]
Julius: So I wanted to talk to you about and also to hear about other experiences sending films out [to film festivals]… In all honestly, [I’d like to hear] what the festival circuit was like for those films and also for this, given that you—I don’t want to say a larger platform necessarily—but there are things that you’re not necessarily worried about with money, but there are things that you’re concerned about with content and preserving your artistic vision. You know, so I’d love to hear kind of what some of those differences and similarities were.
H.P.: Well, I think what’s interesting is that the intent never changed, right? …I think every filmmaker—if you’re a filmmaker in the audience, you know what I’m about to say: You always try to get into Sundance first, you know?
You’d make a submission and you get declined. And, you know, you find out, if you are intrepid enough or if you meet a film festival programmer, you might find out: “Oh, yeah, sorry! I would have programmed you but we already programmed a Filipino film!” Because there can only be one. I’m like the Highlander, apparently.
…I feel like this is gonna sound like shade. It’s not, it’s just business. You want to get into Sundance; that’s a market, right? That’s where you get picked up, that’s where you get [your film] purchased, right? And once that doesn’t happen, you start going to the markets and, if you get declined, what you do is you go to all the identity-based ones because that’s where you will get accepted. And that is a completely different route.
So for example, with “Colma: The Musical,” we submitted to Sundance, and we’d heard they got “this” close now—what “this” means, I don’t know. But we were this close to getting in and it wasn’t until about 10 years later that we were told that it’s because… there was another musical that was shot on DV (digital video) that got in; it was called “Once.” And that has nothing to do with “Colma.” But, anyway, that was the explanation I was given and that was fine because when we got declined by Sundance, the next festival was the San Francisco International Asian American Film Festival, which is now called CAAMFest—which is held in March so it’s not too far from Sundance. And we did that in 2006, and we were like: Wow, this is the way… This feels amazing. This feels so good to be embraced for who we are and not have to explain who we are.
People came to the movie because it was called “Colma: The Musical.” People came to the movie just because they knew there was a queer Filipino lead, you know?
Of course, the next film I submitted to Sundance, “I Am a Ghost” also, “Bitter Melon” also. So the interesting thing about [“The Secret Art of Human Flight”] is submitting this and getting into Tribeca. I remember we had a PR company called 42 West, who taught us how to get pushed around at Tribeca, letting us know: When you get to the red carpet, they’re going to ask all these questions. When it’s time to do photos, you’ll talk to this person and you’ll be in the street and all these publications will talk to you.
And this man on the street came up to me and said: H.P. Mendoza! After 20 years of trying to get into this festival and never getting in, you’re finally getting in. How does that feel?
Julius: Yeah, how does that feel, H.P.?
[Laughter.]
H.P.: And I remember thinking: You could have just asked that last part. Why all that lead up? And I had to [say] and I love that the camera was rolling. I was like, “Yeah, I’ve never been on this side of the velvet rope at Tribeca. I feel like I have access. Is this what you white people to feel every day?”
And he was like, “Yeah, we can’t use that.” But that’s on you…
Julius: And that’s the quote!
H.P.: And by the way, I’m not like the “Kill Whitey” dude, I’m not. Like you just see the movie I just did, right? But it was really interesting to get that kind of treatment. And I think what’s interesting is that all of a sudden, when I get the praise for “The Secret Art of Human Flight,” I’m hearing praise from critics who paid no attention to my previous work. But suddenly they’re calling: They’re saying things like, [H.P. Mendoza] who’s responsible for the adorable “Colma: The Musical” or the intelligent “Bitter Melon” or the profound “I Am a Ghost.” Like, you, reviewer on RogerEbert.com, never even said anything about “I Am a Ghost” in 2012. And suddenly they’re also in the know, right? Now, am I going to use that to my advantage? Damn. Straight.
Like, you know what? Equality looks like this too. Equality isn’t just me getting to put my voices of color on the big screen for proper representation. Equality also means I get to direct cishet, white movies too, and I get to benefit by having my name on it, and I get to benefit from having critics pretending like they’ve known me all the time…
Julius: What was the worst experience, with a critic or reviewer or another journalist talking to you about your career or your work?
H.P.: I think it’s the obvious one for everybody, because it makes for a good story, is the one who called me ugly. But that wasn’t the worst. I think the worst was [the article from the Filipino news agency]. The worst was actually having a three-hour interview, thinking that they’d do a piece on me and finding out it was a rotten tomato. You know, because I portrayed a queer Filipino high schooler who smoked marijuana, you know. And I was a lot younger then and I didn’t know how to handle it. Now it’s like I’m used to it; it’s old hat. But that was formative. That really carved grooves into my brain. I’d lose sleep over that and I’d think: What do I do to fix this?
Julius: But I guess my question is like: what are your thoughts or advice about/for other queer people of color who are trying to preserve their voice—when they’re not just throwing it out in the artistic realm, but also throwing it out in kind of a media/journalism realm?
H.P.: I don’t know if the question is loaded or if my answer is. Because we’re all looking for permission and we don’t even know it. You know, we’re told so many times that we’re side characters. You know, sometimes you feel like you live in a world in which you are the side character in a white person’s life. You know what I mean, because that’s what the media reflects to us.
Now, I’m really grateful that over the past 20 years, we’re seeing a lot more faces of color and queer voices and non-binary and trans voices just being amplified to the point where they are the main characters now, right? But still, the math still shows that 1 out of 10 on Netflix… So for anyone who is a person of color and isn’t straight trying to get your authentic voice out there, I was talking to Alan Quismorio about this…
There’s a thing that happens where you are just looking for permission and you realize: Oh, well, maybe I should listen to these people who look like me and they claim to have the same life experience. That might not be good enough, you know, because sometimes what you’re dealing with is just wolves in sheep’s clothing. Because what you really need to do is make sure you are telling your authentic story by any means necessary.
And here’s the thing: If I heard myself say this 20 years ago, I’d be like, yeah, easier said than done… that’s what you’re supposed to say so you can get people to clap for you. But 20 years into this, that’s the only way… Because I’ll say, over the past couple of decades, I’ve had people say: Well, as a queer person of color, I will shepherd you through this.
I’m like: Oh, yeah, that’s great! I will work under your tutelage. Tell me what I have to do.
And they’re like: Oh, just act more white. And you know, kind of like ease off on the queer talk.
… And the thing is, I’ve seen lots of people kind of cave into that because I have representation now. (I didn’t know how to get representation by the way. I didn’t know I’d been doing all of this independently for so long. I didn’t get representation until four years ago.) And what’s interesting about that is that as of late, they’ll just say things. Like my agents and my manager will just say things like: Well, you know, the thing is you can’t expect everyone to just, you know, be on board for a queer Filipino film. So, they’re not really saying what I had to do, they just kind of planted the seed and let me know that I have to do something different, right?
And I remember after a while, after talking to a lot of Filipino filmmakers, like Diane Paragas (who is a Filipino filmmaker who was also under the same initiative that did “Bitter Melon”) and others—they were all female filmmakers who I talked to, who all said: Yeah fuck that, fight back. They work for you, they’re your reps. You don’t work for them. And it sank in, and my husband was always saying don’t freak out. Like they get 10% of your paycheck. Like, why are they telling you what to do?
And boy, I really wish I could tell you this [movie’s name]. There was a big film that… I could’ve directed. But during the meetings, I kind of like gushed a bit. I said to the executive producer, I said: “Oh, I’m such a big fan of yours. Oh my god, I can’t believe I’m talking to the *hmm* studio.”
And I’m thinking: I wish I wrote this. Because, boy, what a misogynist, homophobic piece of shit this is, and I had to give my notes [on the script]. And I would give my notes, and they say: Okay, good. Point taken. Thank you. We’ll see you for round two.
And everyone’s like, why did you say that? I’m like: Why did I say [the script] was misogynist and homophobic? What was I supposed to say? Was I supposed to just take the job because I have to have my name on this misogynist and homophobic Hollywood film just because it was a Hollywood film that would get you a really big 10%. No!
And so when I didn’t get the job, I took this. I took “The Secret Art of Human Flight,” which I didn’t write… but I felt like I had a lot more freedom. And it was really interesting to meet Grant Rosenmeyer who is the lead producer and the lead actor in “The Secret Art of Human Flight”—the guy with glasses in the movie. I made him look like that. He’s normally a lot more suave-looking, but I was like: No, you have to look schlubbier… And the guru mealworm is played by Paul Raci, who was nominated for the Oscar for “Sound of Metal.” And I remember when Grant came to me, he said: What do you think of this script?
I said, I think it’s like 60% there.
He says: We think it’s like 75.
Okay, that’s you. I don’t think so. It’s a 60% and that needs to be changed a bit; let’s talking about casting. And he says yeah, we’re thinking of someone older, someone like a Will Ferrell type.
I’m like, wait, he’s like my age. How old do you think I am? I read this, and this should be like a an old guy with gravitas. …And he was fresh in all of our minds with “Sound of Metal,” he was nominated for the Oscar. I said like a Paul Raci-type…
And the next day I get a text from Grant saying: Ok, I got you a meeting with Paul Raci. And I was like: Oh, is that what it means to work with Hollywood people—like you mention and maybe just get him? And I remember sitting there waiting and sweating and being really really afraid and texting Grant saying: Where are you?
And he’s like: No, I’m afraid I’m not going to be there. You’re the director. You’re going to talk to Paul, and you’re going to try to get him in this movie. And he shows up and I put on my confident drag. And I cleared my throat and I said thank you for showing up Mr. Raci and for taking time out of your busy schedule to talk to us about this film. Congratulations on the Oscar nomination and for winning the Independent Spirit Award…
And he’s like: Cut the bullshit.
Oh, here we go. Here’s the thing where, like, I’m gonna realize how small I am. And he was like: I wanna talk to you about you. And I saw “Bitter Melon” and I thought it was a beautiful film.
Oh, wow, this like an Oscar nominee saw my $100,000 Filipino American film and “problematic” film. And he was talking about how we went to the Philippines during the Vietnam War and he had so many connections and I thought: This is gonna work.
And the interesting thing about this is I didn’t write the script. This was a production company that came to me so, for all intents and purposes, I’m a director for hire, right? But I think because I walked into this, just like with clear cut boundaries, and I wanted everyone to know exactly what I was all about and I wanted the freedom to rewrite—by Writers Guild standards— rewrite what I wanted to [in order] to make it feel like more of my own. I had enough respect from everybody, including from Paul Raci and from everybody really… The only other film that gave me this much freedom was “I Am a Ghost.” …But if you remove “I Am a Ghost” from the equation, “The Secret Art of Human Flight” (Who would have thunk?) is the film that gave me the most freedom. And I didn’t write it…
Julius: But with that, I actually want to… say thank you. Because I had some big spiel about how this is placed in your career… But you literally just took the words right out of my mouth.
So, with everyone here and this camera watching, I want to thank you on behalf of my teenager self who saw “Colma” and continued to watch your work and continued to be inspired by another queer Filipino artist. So I know that I’m here, I know that there are people here or people who are watching, who were moved and who are better people because of your work. So with that, I want to say thank you.
H.P.: Thank you.
Note: All Substrate Arts articles collected through live interview transcript are edited for length and clarity. Also, due to a technical malfunction during the live interview, a section of this interview was replaced with text from a previously recored one-on-one interview.
H.P. Mendoza is a Filipino-American filmmaker best known for his work as star, screenwriter, composer and lyricist on “Colma: The Musical” (2006), as well as his art-house horror film, “I Am a Ghost” (2014) called “H.P. Mendoza’s objet d’art” by Dennis Harvey of Variety. After his directorial debut “Fruit Fly” (2009), David Lamble of the San Francisco Bay Area Reporter dubbed Mendoza “San Francisco’s queer cinema poet”. In 2012, Mendoza was inducted into Essential SF by the San Francisco Film Society which supported his Filipino-American dramedy “Bitter Melon” (2018) which placed on over a dozen Top 10 lists after its 2018 theatrical run and was hailed as one of the “20 Best Bay Area Films of the Decade” by the Mercury News. Along with his feature films, Mendoza is also known for his music and art installations including the touring screening of his experimental visual album, “Attack, Decay, Release,” winner of the 2022 Grand Jury Prize at the Tallgrass Film Festival, Stubbornly Independent.
After world premiering at Tribeca 2023, Mendoza recently won the 2023 Best Director award at the Ouray International Film Festival for “The Secret Art of Human Flight” starring Academy Award nominee Paul Raci. The film also won Best Picture at the Eastern Oregon Film Festival. He is also currently touring different cities with the live version of “Attack, Decay, Release.”