Kiki Kuhakan '26 (Kwang Jiraporn Kuhakan) is an award-winning Thai-Burmese filmmaker and journalist with over a decade of experience reporting for Reuters and the BBC. Her investigative work has contributed to policy changes, including expanded healthcare protections for Thai migrant workers in Israel and increased access to education for Rohingya refugee children in Bangladesh. A recipient of two Amnesty International Awards and The People Award for her recognition in a decade-long journey in journalism, particularly in covering some of the toughest and most harrowing moments of the Russian-Ukrainian war. Kiki recently earned her MFA in Film and Television Production from the University of Southern California. Her documentary Songs They Buried was nominated for the Directors Guild of America (DGA) Student Film Awards and selected for the BAFTA Student Awards longlist. Her work explores exile, identity, displacement, and survival, amplifying voices often overlooked in mainstream narratives. 

What inspired you to pursue a career in filmmaking?

It started with my background as a warzone journalist. Before coming to school, I worked for BBC and Reuters for 10 years, covering breaking news and traveling to places like Ukraine and Afghanistan. During that time, I worked on two documentaries that created real impact. The first was an investigative piece exposing a scheme between the Thai and Israeli governments involving immigrant workers who were dying due to unsafe conditions - working 16 to 18 hours a day, exposed to heavy pesticides, in terrible living conditions. After we published, the Israeli government was pressured to impose new laws requiring healthcare and health checkups for immigrant workers.

The second was a Reuters documentary about Rohingya refugee children in Bangladesh. I followed a 16-year-old boy who ran a secret school at night, teaching English, science, and math to younger kids, because the Bangladeshi government had forced half a million Rohingya children out of the education system. After the story was published, it was picked up by the UN and pressured the Bangladeshi government to allow those children back into schools. After those experiences, I realized documentary filmmaking was something that could create lasting impact, it stays on the shelf longer. That's when I knew I wanted to come to USC to learn to direct, and to continue telling stories that benefit society.

Was attending USC and SCA always the goal?

Technically, yes. I was admitted to several schools, including Northwestern and UCLA. Northwestern has a strong documentary-only program, but I had a bad experience living in the Midwest during high school, so I knew it wasn't the right environment for me to continue my studies.

Between UCLA and USC, I talked to a lot of friends and family, and kept hearing great things about USC's alumni network. There was also a specific professor I wanted to work with, and one class I was deeply set on taking: 547. I had a very strong intention to direct that class before I even arrived on campus.

Were there any classes, clubs, professors, or experiences that were particularly impactful during your time at SCA?

So many things. I came in having a lot of experience as a news producer, and I was convinced I never wanted to produce again, but then I discovered creative producing at SCA. From there, I found virtual production producing and AI producing, which opened up a whole new world. I've since produced for ETC as an AI student producer, worked on multiple virtual production films, and I'm currently producing a project for a friend who received Amazon funding. I was also president of Story Lab, a writing room run by MISC. I never thought of myself as a writer, but I discovered I actually love it because I have so many stories I want to tell.

And going back to 547,  I started reaching out to my documentary subject just one month into my very first semester, in 507. The moment I arrived at USC, I knew the story I wanted to tell. I even walked up to Professor Lisa Leeman after a 547 screening while I was still in 507 and told her I wanted to direct that class. She told me to get through 508 first, and then we'd talk. I remember thinking: she will see me in that pitch room.

Congratulations on your BAFTA student finalist nominations for Talk Straight, Duda! and Songs They Buried, and your DGA Student Spotlight recognition for Songs They Buried. What were each of those projects about, and what challenges did you face in production?

Talk Straight, Duda! - I was brought on as the very first person on the team, the first producer. I believed in the story immediately, but I also had to be completely honest with the director, Eduardo, about the initial approach. I sat him down and told him, point blank, that the way he had designed the film was boring and that nobody was going to want to watch it. We had to rethink how to make it more compelling for audiences.

Beyond the creative challenges, there were significant logistical and emotional ones. The director's parents were flying in from Brazil, so we had tight timing constraints. More than anything, I was worried about the director himself; this film required him to open up about something deeply personal that he had never spoken about in over 40 years. I was constantly asking: Is he ready for this? What happens if the final interview doesn't go as planned? We developed five different contingency plans for how the film could unfold.

Songs They Buried - This one was incredibly tough, primarily because of security. R Zarni, the Burmese rock star at the center of the film, had his citizenship revoked by the military junta just one month before we started filming — the military was still actively after him. The film follows how he uses concerts across the U.S. to raise money for rebel groups fighting the junta, so we had to protect his location at every step. We used decoy shots, never revealing where he actually lives.

There were also serious threats directed at the concert itself. We couldn't announce the location until close to the date, because we didn't want people who support the junta to show up. Once we did announce it, we received ICE threats, people threatening to call immigration enforcement on attendees, many of whom were Burmese. Our crew included international students, and everyone was scared.

I also had to consult my former security team,  people I worked with in warzones, now operating in Ukraine, to geolocate every single shot and confirm that nothing in the film could be used to identify R Zarni's real location. We went through it piece by piece.

Which project has had the most lasting impact on you? Are there any themes you'd like to return to?

The one I keep coming back to is actually what I'm working on right now, because I just can't stop thinking about it. It's called How to Get a White Guy, and it's my first feature documentary. It's about a 54-year-old Chinese woman who enrolls in a $50,000 dating class that teaches her how to attract white men.

On the surface it might sound like one thing, but it goes much deeper. She no longer wants to date Chinese men because she experienced a patriarchal marriage; she was treated as little more than a housekeeper. She believes that white men will treat her more as an equal, sharing domestic responsibilities. So it's really a film about feminism, gender dynamics, and cultural expectations.

It's a big departure from my investigative journalism work, but it's still rooted in social issues. I'm exploring new territory as a filmmaker, and it's the story I'm most excited about right now.

 

You have a background in journalism and international media. How has that foundation shaped your approach to storytelling?

Journalism shaped my entire life, as a person and as a storyteller. For the first year or two at SCA, when people were calling themselves artists, I still called myself a journalist, because that's how I was trained to see the world: fact-based, with a clear sense of what is and isn't a story. I used to oversee coverage across four countries, Thailand, Myanmar, Cambodia, and Vietnam, with a team of reporters pitching stories to me. That experience gave me an instinct for what will work and what won't, what an audience will want to watch and what they won't. I brought that editorial judgment directly into filmmaking.

What USC added to that was something I didn't have before: the permission and the practice of telling stories from within myself; stories I want to tell, not just stories people expect to see. I'm working on combining both, and I hope it makes me a better filmmaker.

As a recent alum, congratulations on graduating this past spring! What are some of the most valuable lessons you're taking with you from SCA?

So much. I think the biggest thing is that SCA gave me the ability to call myself a filmmaker. I was genuinely embarrassed to use that word, even into my second year. But after 547 — after all of those struggles. I directed a film and realized I had earned it. My directing professor told our class: you have graduated, and you are now filmmakers, not student filmmakers, filmmakers. That has stayed with me.

After that, I found my people. I've been working with the same composer since 508. I have a producer and a DP I want to collaborate with for the rest of my career. The relationships you build at SCA are your future team. And on a personal level, I discovered new skills I didn't know I had: creative producing, writing, even after 10 years working professionally. I didn't know I could still unlock new abilities. That was a revelation.

 

What advice would you give to fellow emerging student filmmakers and documentary storytellers?

For incoming students especially: make good friends, because those people will become your team: for the future, and for the rest of your life. I found lifetime collaborators at SCA. I found professors who still pick up the phone after graduation, still write recommendation letters, and still respond to texts about things that have nothing to do with school. The school has extraordinary resources, but you have to seek them out.

I'd also say: stop and reflect. USC is designed to keep you incredibly busy; you're on set, then someone else's set, then the next project. But if you don't pause and ask yourself what you actually want to do after you graduate, it's very easy to get lost. Three years go by fast. Be intentional.

What's next? Any new projects in development or production?

How to Get a White Guy is the big one, my first feature documentary, and the project I'm most focused on right now.

Beyond that, I'm deeply interested in AI filmmaking and virtual production. I'm currently producing several AI-driven projects, and I want to keep exploring that space. There's something new every week, the technology is evolving constantly, and I love the intersection of filmmaking and innovation. Whatever can make the industry better and push the craft forward, that's where I want to be.

Links: 
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/kiki.kuhakan/
Songs They Buried website: www.songstheyburiedshortdocumentary.com

Story by Emily Tutnick