“I always knew I had to make a film about my dad.”
—Tad Nakamura
The challenges and rewards of living up to a family legacy thread throughout Tad Nakamura’s new documentary, Third Act. The film is a tribute to legendary filmmaker, artist, activist, and teacher, Robert Nakamura. Often referred to as “the Godfather of Asian American cinema,” Tad’s father, Robert, is both subject and collaborator on Third Act, evident from the film’s opening scene.
Tad has been an award winning filmmaker focusing on the Asian American experience for more than twenty years. Third Act fulfills his long-held determination to honor and preserve the extraordinary accomplishments of his father, but the process of making this film has taken Tad on a seven year detour from his planned destination.
Third Act was originally intended to chronicle Robert Nakamura’s life as the son of hardworking Japanese immigrants growing up in Southern California. The family’s lives were upended in 1941 by Executive Order 9066, which forced over 120,000 Japanese Americans citizens and legal residents into concentration camps. Robert was only six years old when the family involuntarily entered Manzanar, but “the scars have remained with me,” he says. “Everything comes back to camp.”
Returning to Los Angeles after the war, the Nakamura family coped by suppressing their Japanese culture and their memories of camp. Robert had a seemingly typical American childhood, but with the stings of racism propelling him to excel. After a successful photography career, he was inspired by the climate of protesting injustice during the 60s and 70s.
Robert’s films, beginning with his 1972 documentary, Manzanar, channeled his ever-present awareness of “otherness” into activism supporting a burgeoning Asian American movement in Los Angeles. His groundbreaking films garnered countless professional awards and his many years on the faculty at UCLA influenced the hundreds of students in his visual communications classes. One of those students was Tad, who soon discovered that his interests and talents dovetailed with those of his father.
Tad and his father had collaborated on numerous projects before, so it seemed only natural hat the two would work on Third Act together. But partway through the filming, Robert was diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease. That’s when the film took a turn from career retrospective and a wrenching look at the enduring consequences of racism to the universally relatable challenges so many families face. As Robert put it, “less history, more soul.” Robert had been referring to regrets he had about the film he made about his own father, but Tad took it as a directive on how he should approach Third Act.
Discover Nikkei (DN) talked to Tad (TN) via Zoom about working with his father on Third Act and how it impacted him and his family. Following are excerpts from that conversation, edited for length:
DN: You were able to speak candidly with your father about a future when he’s no longer here and he seemed really open to showing his emotions. Did did you ever feel he was resisting or not being completely open with you?
TN: No, I think it was a process. When we first started, we had to gain momentum to be comfortable. Initially, it was probably as filmmaker to filmmaker. I put my director’s hat on and therefore, I was asking questions as a director versus a son to my father. And then for my dad, he’s a filmmaker himself. He knows that in order for any film to be good, it needs vulnerability, needs honesty. It needs depth. So I think he pushed himself more as a filmmaker to be as open as possible versus a dad talking to his son.
DN: How did that affect your relationship?
TN: You know, we worked on the film for seven years and did countless interviews where it was just me and him in his office. There was no crew or anything. So it was a very intimate setting, a safe space, and once we got used to it, the camera was actually a buffer. Like most JA dads, especially of his generation, they don’t articulate their emotions that well, especially to their sons. And even for me as an Asian American male, I don’t articulate my own emotions that well. So I think we did it for the film.
I think the fact that it was a film pushed us out of our comfort zone. And once we got used to that, then we became very honest about anxieties and fears. By that end of the film, when we’re on the balcony in Hawaii, that honesty and directness, candidness, is a result of the process of making the film over a number of years.
DN: Before your father was diagnosed with Parkinson’s were there hints where you thought, boy, I have to do this now?
TN: Yeah, there were. When I first started out, the film I envisioned was not the film that we ended up making. I wanted to just do a simple biopic to document his work, his significance in the Asian American community, and really highlight and celebrate his accolades and achievements. But there were hints at that time. Now we know it was early signs and symptoms of Parkinson’s.
I did notice once he got into his 80s, he definitely was starting to slow down a little bit. I worked with him so much—I pretty much used to see him every day—and there were little things, over the phone or little pauses, where I could just tell he wasn’t as sharp as he used to be. So that was the initial, oh you know, “He’s not getting any younger so it’s now or never.” And that’s why we started.
DN: You’ve talked about living up to the legacy, especially because both your parents are so accomplished. In the film, you stated that you felt like you were put on this earth to fill a role. Did you feel like your life wasn’t your own?
TN: I think I did but in a good way. I’m accountable to so many people. My parents didn't press me into becoming a filmmaker, but what they did do is make sure I understood I was part of this larger community with a history of both trauma and oppression but also activism and specifically, activism through the arts. And because my parents were so active in the community, I was very active in the community. I think what’s on the other end of gratitude is, how do I pay that back?
On one hand, I owe so much to my parents and want to make them proud, but at the same time, I’ve been given all these privileges so what am I going to do with that? I never felt I was put on this earth to do what I want to do and just make me happy. I think it was more like do what you want to do in the service of community.
DN: And how do you do that?
TN: You know, do right. Utilize your strength and privileges and appreciate it by being accountable. That’s the good thing about community, especially now that I have kids. Like, if I’m at a community event, even if my parents aren’t there, if I act wrong, they’re going to hear about it or worse, my grandparents would hear about it, right? So it’s that feeling of being a part of something larger than yourself.
DN: Your father talked about how difficult it was post-war, living in a racist society. Do you feel like it was easier for you growing up? Or do you think it’s a battle that’s going to always have to be fought?
TN: 100% agree that I had it easier. I think that’s because most parents want to provide their kids with what they didn’t have growing up. My jiichan was just a working class gardener and as an immigrant, didn’t understand certain things. So he never went to any of my dad’s football games. He didn’t even go to my dad’s graduation. So my dad definitely made a point to be at all my games, to be very present.
And then, my dad didn’t grow up in a strong, tight-knit community and therefore, he made sure I grew up very much being proud of being Japanese or just being around other people who look like me, who wouldn’t “other” me.
He always felt excluded, not accepted, and I think, very intentionally, he put me in environments where that wouldn’t happen to me. On a micro level of community, the Issei just survived and the Nisei did their own version of surviving. But to me, the Sansei are the really the ones who laid this foundation that I took advantage of, like nonprofit institutions and Little Tokyo, Asian American studies, and even the concept of a Manzanar pilgrimage. I’m a big beneficiary of that but whether the world has changed or not, I don’t really know. I hope so, but the way our country, the world, is now, that’s questionable.
I think what I’ve been taught is that racism is always there and there always needs to be resistance. There’s always going to be a need to speak out, resist, and, again, that’s the kind of lane or gift I was given to play a role in.
DN: Asians are becoming more visible in the media and not just in stereotypical Asian roles. Your father had a big role contributing to that with his movies and documentaries.
TN: My dad is pretty humble and doesn’t brag, but I’m the one that’s usually bragging for him. I think that’s initially what I wanted to do. When I was making the film, Crazy Rich Asians had come out and people were celebrating that moment but didn’t know the history or the legacy. There’ve been people like my dad who have been doing this for years, and if it wasn't for that foundation, movies like Crazy Rich Asians would never happen.
DN: You’re now directing the Watase Media Arts Center at JANM established by your father and mother. How do you feel about taking on that role?
TN: I actually don’t know if I would have taken the job if I wasn’t working on this film. I worked on this film for seven years and have been at JANM for almost three, so I was very much in the middle of the process of understanding my dad’s “why” in terms of the film’s he made, and therefore truly understanding his legacy and his intentions and the trauma behind that.
Certain things you’re just called on, whether you’re ready or not. I think this one worked out perfectly, where when that call did come, I felt ready. But the only reason why I felt ready was because I was making this film. I think it’s kind of subtle at the end of the film, but I finally realize that I am the legacy. I can move on without my dad because I’ve been with him so much.
And so it’s not trying to remember his legacy, but realizing that I am his legacy and that really gave me confidence to to take on the Media Arts Center and and really want to do it. This is one of those things where my dad would always ask me, do you really want to do this? And I would tell him yes, but really, I probably didn’t know. It wasn’t until after making this film that I actually realized I actually do want to do this.
It’s like taking over the family business. I was talking about the question of, how do you pay back someone who’s given you everything? Carrying on not only the Media Arts Center, but trying to fulfill my dad’s original vision of the Media Arts Center, is a way to give back.
* * * * *
The Los Angeles premiere of Third Act will take place on Saturday, May 3, 2025, at 6:00 p.m. at the Aratani Theatre at the Japanese American Cultural & Community Center, as part of the LA Asian Pacific Film Festival.
© 2025 Esther Newman
