Stranded parallels the migration of humpback whales—who learn songs from one another as they travel—with the experience of diaspora and cultural exchange. Born by the sea, I left my family in China when I moved to the U.S. to study as a teenager. Since then, I carried a constant sense of homesickness and guilt for leaving as an only child. But it wasn’t until my grandfather passed that those emotions crystallized into something sharper—grief became real, no longer abstract but visceral and inescapable. In that moment, filmmaking became the only way I knew how to process the loss and begin to reconnect.

This story is deeply personal. My father, a fisherman, taught me to love the ocean. Years later, as a student of environmental science kayaking alongside orcas in Alaska, I felt that connection evolve into a language we both understood. The sea became our shared space—our bridge across time and distance. I wanted to tell this story because I believe this is a collective experience for many in the diaspora: the ache of separation, the quiet guilt of leaving, and the search for new ways to stay connected to where—and who—we come from.

Inspired by our science advisor’s whale song research, I set the film in a Newfoundland fishing village where time seems suspended. Locals welcomed us into their homes, shared their stories, and many appeared on screen as themselves. As we filmed, the line between fiction and lived experience began to blur. The village, its people, and their quiet strength wove themselves into the story in unexpected ways. Their presence stirred something long buried in me—connecting me to memories of home, and to a grief I had quietly carried for years.

Not long after production wrapped, a severe windstorm devastated much of the village, destroying sheds and waterfront structures—some of which appear in the film. That loss deepened my desire to honor these communities through cinema, preserving their resilience while spotlighting the impact of climate change.

Stranded is about loss, guilt, and the long journey toward reconnection. I hope it resonates with anyone navigating the complexities of identity, family, and memory—and that the Newfoundlanders who made this film possible feel proud of what we created together.

This film opens a doorway into the multi-dimensional world of marine science and magical realism, intertwining whale songs with human emotions and spirituality.

Our cinematography draws inspiration from the rhythm of Chinese Song poetry, allowing time on screen to ebb and flow with Yiling’s internal journey—from initial reservation and stoicism to moments of wonder, surprise, recognition, and other palpable emotions she finds herself swirled into toward both her surroundings and the home she left behind.

The film’s palette and tone take inspiration from Andrew Wyeth, the 20th-century American artist who blended Impressionist light and movement with precise, realistic detail. Like Wyeth, who described himself as a magic realist, our film features simple yet poetic settings and moments of nature’s quiet magic, seamlessly blending reality and fantasy through long takes and a restrained, dreamlike aesthetic.

Sound is a defining element, immersing audiences in the living, breathing world of the village. Silence, shifting winds, and a brewing storm lead up to Yiling’s final confrontation—not only with the whale but with the emotions she has long suppressed.

Visually and aurally, we create a bridge between Yiling’s childhood in a Chinese village and her present in Newfoundland, shaping a fluid, shifting sense of time and space. This interplay reflects the diasporic experience—where home is not fixed to a single place, but lingers in echoes that follow across oceans.

This story builds upon the essential parallel between humpback whales' cultural transmission through songs and human migrations across diverse cultures. Science assumes a central role as Yiling applies her expertise in marine biology to investigate the challenges faced by the stranded humpback whale and assess the potential outcomes of different rescue approaches.

I have had detailed consultations with our science advisors regarding different scientific topics in the script, including the migration pattern of humpback whales, the monitoring process and their songs, as well as the rescue protocols for stranded cetaceans. In the script, the characters try to save a repeatedly stranded humpback whale by dragging it into the ocean, but the protagonist points out that first, trained rescuers must be there to oversee the operation, and second, under the circumstance where rescue or euthanasia cannot be undertaken, the stranded cetacean should be made as comfortable as possible through appropriate care and allowed to die naturally.

Other examples in the script include the process of monitoring and analyzing hydrophone recordings, as well as the finding that there is a cultural transmission in the songs of humpback whales during their migrations. As our protagonist shares hydrophone recordings with locals and grapples with their differing beliefs, this story underscores how science fosters dialogue and connectivity through shared objectives.

Through this project we hope to bring awareness to the wonderful vocal culture of humpback whales and their important relationships to coastal communities. We believe it is not only meaningful but also necessary to highlight the urgency to marine conservation in the present state of our environment.