Why I Want to Make This Film

I was raised in a Korean immigrant household as a 1.5-generation Korean American. When I told my father I wanted to direct movies, he said, “Directors die of starvation. You’ll never make it.”

Even after I earned a degree in Film and Media Studies from UC Berkeley, his disapproval never wavered. Eventually, I gave in to fear. I chose stability over passion. But years later, when I finally quit my job and told my dad I wanted to pursue filmmaking in Los Angeles, it led to a massive fallout between us.

Time apart forced me to confront a hard truth: I had spent years blaming my father for my own inaction. I began writing and directing short films (YouTube link), but Tunnel Vision in particular was born from that fallout—a turning point when I realized I needed to start making decisions for myself instead of waiting for his approval.

While the film explores the cultural divide between an immigrant father and his Americanized son, it’s ultimately for anyone who has buried their dreams out of fear, disapproval, or the demands of survival. It’s a cautionary tale—but also a hopeful one.

With Tunnel Vision, I want to create space for growth, reflection, and perhaps reconciliation. And as much as I hope to inspire others to take control of their lives, step out of the tunnel, and finally move forward, I want to do the same—by making this film.

Why I Named It Tunnel Vision

Tunnel Vision reflects the immigrant version of the “American Dream”—success at all costs, with comfort as the ultimate goal. The dark tunnel represents the struggle before reaching the light. And to endure that struggle, you block out everything else: feelings, family, identity. All that matters is what’s at the end—the house, the car, the degree, the so-called stable job.

But what if, for some people, the tunnel only gets darker the deeper you go? And what if that tunnel vision becomes a kind of vanity—one that destroys both family bonds and the individual?

For the protagonist David—a man-child Korean American hip-hop artist in his late 20s—everything he does is subconsciously driven by a need for his father’s approval. Overwhelmed by expectations, he numbs himself with weed and porn, tells himself he’s working on music, but never releases anything. He has tunnel vision—fixated on a vague dream, blind to the damage he’s causing in the present.

Ironically, David’s warmest childhood memory is riding on the back of his father’s motorcycle through a tunnel—a place cold and terrifying… but strangely safe. Maybe that’s how coming to America felt: unfamiliar and harsh, but bearable as long as his father was there.

So David stays stuck in a cycle, avoiding growth. But that avoidance backfires—tragically—when he ends up beating his own father without realizing it. That moment becomes a brutal wake-up call.

David is forced to confront the truth: he can’t stay in the tunnel forever. And dreams—no matter how noble—are hollow without action. Tunnel Vision captures the painful cost of avoidance and the urgent need to reclaim control over your own life.

The Plot

The film opens with David getting high and recalling a childhood memory—riding on the back of a motorcycle through a tunnel on Angel’s Crest with his father. The tunnel is terrifying yet comforting, like the strange peace coming down from a bad trip.

David, who buys weed using money from his shady Korean “hyung” (or big bro) Derrick, gets high at home while watching porn. His strict Korean father unexpectedly arrives to pick up his sashimi knife before heading to work as a sushi chef. Smelling the weed, he storms into David’s room. After a heated argument, David storms out, feeling violated.

At the dealer’s (this film takes before marijuana was legalized in California), David learns that prices have gone up. He calls Derrick for more money—during the call, Derrick nearly hits a motorcyclist, who retaliates by smashing his side mirror.

Later, the same biker sells David’s father the bike, helmet, and jacket—an unspoken gift for his son.

After receiving the money, David returns to the dealer to buy more weed.

Meanwhile, Derrick and Jake drive around and mistake David’s father for the biker. They assault and kidnap him, taking him to their hideout.

Back at the dealer’s, David smokes laced weed and gets extremely high.

In his intoxicated state, David wanders to the hideout and finds Derrick and Jake smashing beer bottles on the helmet of the man they’ve captured—David’s father. Desperate for approval, David joins in, unaware that he's beating his own dad.

Later, they smoke again at Derrick’s house. David passes out, haunted by guilt. Flashes of the violence replay in his mind, and a sickening suspicion begins to form: was the man in the helmet his father?

David wakes up in a panic—it’s his mother’s death anniversary. He rushes home, distraught. There, he finds his father calmly smoking a cigarette. In quiet reconciliation, his father tosses him the motorcycle keys.

This time, David rides in front, his father behind him, as they cruise through the palm-lined streets of Koreatown beneath the open sky.

David

A Korean American man in his late 20s, stuck in a limbo of self-sabotage and unrealized dreams. He calls himself a musician, but he’s never released anything. Distracted by weed, porn, and delusion, David is like Pinocchio—longing to become real but held back by pleasure and pain. Deep down, he craves his dad’s approval.

David’s Dad

A Korean immigrant who works as a sushi chef. After losing his wife in a motorcycle accident, he has become emotionally hardened. He no longer rides. He no longer dreams. He wants David to live a stable, “respectable” life and doesn’t approve of a career in music—but doesn’t know how to show love in any way other than criticism. Beneath the surface, he cares deeply for David.

Derrick (David’s Friend / Toxic Father Figure)

Charismatic and reckless, Derrick is the Korean “Hyung” or “Big Bro” that David looks up to—and even depends on financially. But Derrick is fueled by anger and insecurity. He is violent and offers David the approval he craves… but it’s conditional, manipulative, and dangerous.

Jake

Jake is an enigmatic presence—quiet, detached, and hard to read. He doesn’t care much for David or Derrick; his loyalty lies only with himself. Though he hangs around Derrick for access to drugs, money, and good times, he never seeks approval or tries to belong. He’s a drifter who follows where the benefits lead.

David’s Dealer

He acts almost like David’s therapist—always supportive, always comforting. But in the end, it’s all for the good of his business. He hooks David with higher doses and even laced weed, ensuring he always comes back for more.

Story Inspiration

If you’ve read the plot, you guessed it—the story is inspired by the tale of Oedipus. The film will often show Freudian symbolism of Oedipus Complex to show power struggle between father and son.

As mentioned earlier in the character description, David constantly escapes into comfort and pleasure rather than taking responsibility. Like Pinocchio, he is manipulated by the shady people around him. Although David's confrontation with his father is more tragic compared to Pinocchio’s, he also strives to escape from the whale—or the tunnel—he finds himself in.

Film Look Inspiration

The Pusher (1996) by Nicolas Winding Refn

I aim to film freely, like in The Pusher—using a handheld camera and a realistic visual style to capture the raw reality of David’s surroundings.

This is England (2006) Shane Meadows

As for the locations and visual style, I want to capture the gritty side of Koreatown in LA—similar to how This Is England portrays the gang’s hideouts in the film.

How I’m Going to Shoot This Film

Tunnel Vision is a 20-minute short film based on a 20-page script. I’ll be shooting on the Sony FX3—a Netflix-approved cinema camera that I personally own and operate—ensuring high-quality visuals with a cinematic look.

Storyboarding is complete, and we’re now entering the casting and crew recruitment phase. I can’t wait to share behind-the-scenes updates, sneak peeks, and progress reports with all of you who support this project from day one.

For the short films I’ve made so far (https://www.youtube.com/@BlueliarStudio), I’ve written, produced, directed, operated camera and audio, edited, and color graded everything myself. But for this 20-minute short, I’m assembling a small yet passionate and professional team to help bring this story to life. That includes:

• A Director of Photography (DP) to collaborate on visual storytelling, lighting, and camera work
• A Dedicated Sound Mixer to ensure clean, immersive audio
• A Reliable Production Assistant (PA) to keep everything organized and running smoothly
• Talented Actors who can bring emotional depth and authenticity to each role
• A Producer to manage logistics and keep us on track

I’m especially excited to collaborate with my childhood friend and composer, Sam Chu. We’ve dreamed of working together since elementary school. As a fellow Korean immigrant, he deeply connects with the emotional core of the story, and he’ll be composing an original score that elevates the film’s themes with authenticity and heart.

Thank you in advance for believing in this vision. My hope is that Tunnel Vision won’t just resonate—it will warn, heal, and inspire.