When Jingyi Li set out to create a documentary about healthcare for elders, she struggled to find a family willing to sit in front of her camera.

Li (’25) was inspired by the power of filmmaking to create social impacts, and wanted to explore hospice care in Chinese culture. The interest stemmed from Li’s experience interning at a local hospice care center in Yunnan Province, China, where she witnessed the complexities and cultural sensitivities involved in providing care for terminally ill patients within Chinese families.

With the help of a hospice and palliative care service in Boston, Li started reaching out to Chinese families about filming the end-of-life process, but many rejected her request. Li, a Chinese international student, understood their reticence: Chinese culture has a strong taboo around death, and especially hospice. “Chinese hospice care is a concept that is not widely accepted right now for a lot of reasons,” Li says.

She eventually found a “brave family” whose roots in the US date back to the mid-20th century. Li says the family’s “mix of Chinese and Western culture” made them more amenable to being filmed. And so, in late October 2024, Li and a team of two other film students began shooting with the family as they cared for Pópo, their matriarch, at the end of her life.

The resulting short documentary, named Pópo for the elder at its center, went on to win a bevy of awards at this year’s Redstone Film Festival, including best film and best documentary. Li says she expected the film might win best documentary, but was surprised to win the festival’s biggest prize of best film, as well as awards for editing, sound design and cinematography. She credited the guidance of her COM professors, as well as her two teammates—editor Sadie Kennedy (’26) and cinematographer Meng Kai Cheang (’25)—as an important factor in the film’s success. “My team is amazing, because they really committed to my film,” Li says.

A Story Told with a Subtle Touch

While Li went into the filmmaking process with a clear desire to make a social impact, the resulting documentary does not make a direct argument to the audience about the merits of hospice care. Instead, Pópo takes an observational approach, allowing viewers to come to their own conclusions. 

In the 14-minute film, we are taken into Pópo’s life in a quiet, unobtrusive manner. We see the matriarch interact with a nurse, and with her daughters. We see tough conversations about Pópo’s waning health at the hands of pulmonary fibrosis. These difficult scenes are contrasted with moments of love and care, with Li aiming to deliver an authentic portrayal of end-of-life care within a family. But there is little commentary beyond that. 

“I hope the audience can just directly watch the whole process of the end of life within the context of hospice, and then they can have [their own] feeling about it,” Li says.

The few times we do see Pópo’s daughters sitting for an on-camera interview, the approach is dramatic. Li had her subjects look directly into the camera lens, a technique that varies from the usual, slightly-off-camera gaze. She says she saw the direct-to-camera interview approach used in another documentary, The Queen of Basketball, and felt it made the interviews feel more real and personal. 

While the film is primarily about death and hospice, it also touches on themes of religion. In one moving scene, we see Pópo and her daughters talk about the afterlife. Pópo adopted Christianity later in life and had been baptized, but her late husband hadn’t; she worried that, for this reason, they would not be able to meet in heaven. This is another thread that a viewer might relate to, even if it isn’t the sole focus of the film. 

“I really hope my audience can have a space to witness and to have their own personal experience… from watching the film,” Li says—even if they don’t leave with a specific takeaway about hospice care. More than anything, the film is about family and love, she adds.

Learning to Pivot

Pópo was Li’s first time directing a documentary, and she learned important lessons in the process.

One is the need to “to find a balance between planning and letting go, between shaping a story and [truly listening] to the people at the heart of it,” she says. Li had an idea of what the story would be, but as she spent more time with the family, that shifted. “The narrative was changing all the time.” 

I thought it was beautifully done. It took a great amount of care and sensitivity.

Craig Shepherd

Being flexible in the face of those changes is a key skill in documentary filmmaking, one that is echoed by Craig Shepherd, chair of the film and television department.

“You develop your game plan of how you want to approach the story, but you have to be nimble and be able to pivot in the moment if something were to occur, and sometimes those moments that occur, that you couldn’t plan for, really is the richness of the story,” he says.

Shepherd, who joined COM in 2024 after spending nearly three decades as a film producer, praised Pópo for the way it tapped into universally relatable themes. 

“I thought it was beautifully done,” he says. “It took a great amount of care and sensitivity. There were some shot selections or design of shots that I thought were very impactful, that really you didn’t need to say anything—the visual imagery said everything, and I thought it was well constructed.”

Li is also walking away with a lesson in building trust with sources. She reflects on the early rejections she received from some Chinese families she approached for the film, and she understands why they would be reluctant to collaborate with a young student who had limited experience with grief. At the same time, her Chinese identity did end up serving as an asset while working on the film.

“I can better understand this community, to help them to deliver their voice,” she says.

Li hopes the documentary will not only raise awareness about hospice care, but spark conversations about elder care more broadly, and the importance of public funding for that care.