For writer, director and animator Cami Kwan, Paper Daughter began with a story that had lived in her family for generations. Inspired by her great-grandmother Joy Dep Chan, who immigrated from China through Angel Island in 1926 by assuming another girl’s identity, the stop-motion animated short explores the sacrifices Chinese immigrants made in pursuit of a better future and the generations shaped by those decisions.
Paper Daughter follows a young girl named Joy (Rebecca Wang) as she sets sail toward America, where she must take on another identity to begin a new life. Drawing from the history of Chinese immigrants who purchase documents that falsely tie them to Chinese Americans, also known as “paper sons” and “paper daughters,” Kwan combines meticulous stop-motion animation with a deeply personal story rooted in family history, using paper as a visual metaphor for identity, resilience and belonging. Ahead of the film’s Annecy premiere, Deadline spoke with Kwan and producer Brandon Bui about turning a chapter of their family’s history into stop-motion animation, researching the legacy of Angel Island and the challenges of telling such a personal story.
DEADLINE: Where did this idea to do Paper Daughter come from?
CAMI KWAN: It’s based on my great-grandmother’s experience immigrating to the United States from China. She immigrated in 1926, and my great-grandfather immigrated in 1916. They both came through Angel Island, so many of the same experiences depicted in the film are drawn from their stories. In 2020, during the rise of anti-Asian hate, I found myself examining my identity as an Asian American and asking why I’m here and how my family got here. As I learned more about Chinese American immigration history, I came across the stories of paper sons and paper daughters. I connected with that because I often feel that my place here was built on somebody else’s sacrifice. I didn’t earn the opportunities I have; they came from generations before me. Paper sons and paper daughters faced something similar. They were given a new life based on someone else’s sacrifice, often from people they would never be able to repay.
The film came from grappling with that feeling and ultimately transforming it from guilt into appreciation and gratitude. I wanted to see it as an act of love rather than simply sacrifice.
KWAN: Believe it or not, we made this 15-minute film in seven or eight months.
BRANDON BUI: We had incredibly talented people and the right resources at the right time. Cami is a co-founder of a stop-motion studio [Apartment D films], so we had a great foundation to build from.
KWAN: The film was part of the Julia S. Gouw Short Film Challenge through CAPE, which provided funding and support, but it also came with a very hard deadline. Brandon and I basically said, “It has to happen, and we’ll make it happen.”
DEADLINE: Brandon, how did you first come across the story?
BUI: Cami and I have been friends since around 2019 or 2020 through a mutual friend. I’ve always admired her as both a person and a storyteller. We first worked together on a short film called Dormilón. A few months later, Cami told me she had received this grant and asked if I’d produce her film. My answer was immediately yes. When I read the script, I was in tears. Cami also sent over an early piece of music from our composer, Valeri Ortiz, and I could instantly see the movie in my head.
My parents immigrated from Vietnam in the 1980s, so while our histories are different, I connected deeply with the story. What’s been incredible is seeing audiences from all backgrounds respond to it. People tell us they see themselves in the film even if they aren’t Chinese and don’t share that specific history. That’s when I knew there was something really special here.
DEADLINE: I appreciated how the film highlights Angel Island. We hear so much about Ellis Island, but far less about Angel Island and the history surrounding Asian immigration on the West Coast.
KWAN: One hundred percent. I actually find comfort in learning that history wasn’t as simple as we sometimes remember it. Things were difficult then, too. For me, that’s reassuring because it reminds me that we’ve gone through hard periods before. History moves in cycles. Things get better, then worse, then better again. There’s something hopeful about that.
DEADLINE: Was there anything particularly challenging from a storytelling perspective?
KWAN: The hardest part was being vulnerable. Before this, almost all of my work had been client work. There’s a certain safety in that because someone else ultimately makes the final decisions. With this film, there was nowhere to hide. Every creative choice reflected me. That was terrifying at first. But the process of making the film, and the response from the crew and everyone who supported us, helped me realize that I could tell this story. It made me feel validated as a director and filmmaker.
KWAN: One of the biggest things was visiting Angel Island with my dad, my great-aunt and my cousin. My great-aunt remembered stories about the island and even recognized some people in historical photographs. We also have footage of my grandmother and great-grandmother visiting Angel Island in the early 2000s. Historians there interviewed my great-grandmother because she had actually been detained on Angel Island. Watching those recordings was incredibly emotional.
A lot of my first exposure to these stories came from my grandmother and great-grandmother. That’s one reason the film is framed almost like a fairy tale. These stories were passed down through generations and became mythic family stories. Beyond that, there was a lot of reading. I used resources from the Los Angeles Public Library, including books on Chinese American history and historical costume design.
Two books were especially important: The Chinese in America by Iris Chang and Island [by Him Mark Lai], which collects and translates the poems carved into the walls of Angel Island by detainees. Reading those poems gave me the closest thing to a firsthand account of what that experience felt like.
DEADLINE: Have either of you been to Annecy before?
DEADLINE: How does it feel having the film selected to play there?
BUI: It’s a dream come true. From the very beginning, Annecy was the goal. For me, what’s most meaningful is seeing a film this personal and important recognized by an institution like Annecy. It’s also special to share that experience with Cami and the crew who worked so hard to make this film on a very limited budget.
KWAN: Everything Brandon said. My parents aren’t artists, so I’ve spent my whole life trying to explain what animation means to me. When I told them we got into Annecy, I described it as the Olympics and the Oscars combined for animation. Just being there is incredible. Having our film there is beyond anything I imagined.
One of my fears while making the film was that it was too specific. It’s a story about Chinese immigration to the United States in the 1920s. I worried it wouldn’t resonate beyond that community. Seeing audiences around the world connect with it has been incredibly meaningful. It reminds me that people care about immigrant stories and that we can find ourselves in stories that aren’t specifically about us. In a world shaped by algorithms and personalization, it’s encouraging to see people connect through a very specific story. It reinforces my faith in what art can do.
DEADLINE: How has your family responded to the film?
KWAN: They’ve been incredibly supportive. I was nervous because this isn’t just my story—it’s our family’s story. My great-grandmother is almost a mythic figure within our family, so there was a lot of pressure. But everyone has been enthusiastic. My cousin Amy actually voices Mae in the film.
KWAN: Yes. I made her audition and didn’t tell Brandon she was my cousin until after we’d cast her. [Laughs.]
BUI: She earned it. [Laughs.] The line at the end when Mae says [about the future and opportunity of Joy’s new life in America] “It’s yours now” gets me every single time.
DEADLINE: What would you like audiences to take away from the film?
KWAN: I want people to leave understanding how loved they are and how much love had to exist for any of us to be where we are today. We’re all the recipients of sacrifices made by people who came before us. I hope audiences can release some of the guilt that comes with that realization and instead see those sacrifices as acts of love. I also hope people recognize that Asian Americans have been part of this country’s story for a very long time. We’ve helped build this country.
More broadly, I hope people understand that America is built by people making sacrifices for futures they will never personally see. If we can view our history through that lens, maybe it can help shape a better future.
BUI: For me, it’s resilience. History repeats itself, and we’re seeing that happen right now. I hope people come away feeling strong and believing in themselves. Joy’s journey is about recognizing that your life is your own. Even when you’ve inherited sacrifices from previous generations, you still have agency. You still get to decide what comes next. No matter how trapped you feel, there’s always a way forward. That’s what I hope audiences take with them.
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