From Little Wins to Big Swings, Director Zen Pace Found Clarity in Chaos

We all love to celebrate the underdog. It’s natural, poetic, even. Therefore, when an underdog signs for a production company, it’s something we can all get behind.

Director Zen Pace, the self-confessed “poster child for ADHD”, has done just that. Choosing Underhill as their first official directorial home, Zen’s career so far has seen them nominated for two Emmys, pick up an enviable collection of industry awards, and helm Samsung’s provocative ‘Creativity Cannot be Crushed’ campaign in reaction to fellow tech giant, Apple.

Their journey to directing wasn’t straightforward or easy; as a child, Zen embraced chaos. “My childhood wasn’t about picking up a camera and never looking back, it was about creating scenes,” they explain. “I’d convince my friends to play along in whatever story I was spinning, once telling them I was an expert in ninjutsu and teaching made-up moves on my front lawn with tiki torches, until we nearly poked someone’s eye out. It was all about crafting little worlds and moments, even if they were absurd”

These worlds highlighted more than Zen’s vivid imagination – they offered an alternative way of viewing the world. “I also struggled in ways that shaped me,” they say, “I couldn’t read until I was about ten because of severe dyslexia, so visual mediums became my first language. Films, paintings, anything I could see and feel, were my entry points into understanding the world.”

Art became a way of communicating what words couldn’t. Trips to the Flint Institute of Arts with their father, a painter, impressed this even further, having a “transformative” effect on Zen. “Surrounded by art, I found a sense of peace and belonging that words couldn’t offer at the time.”

In high school, the Model United Nations became an outlet for Zen’s curious nature and questions about the world. “It taught me how to research, see multiple sides of a story, and compete with an underdog’s hunger. Our underfunded public school often walked away with awards over elite private programmes, and winning Best Delegate multiple times was empowering.”

They add, “I carry all of that with me now, the visual instincts from my dad, the love of creating worlds, and the drive to understand a story from every angle. It’s the foundation for the director I am today.”

After high school, Zen moved to New York, “for love and without a plan”. They applied to Brooklyn College’s film programme, discovered Japanese filmmaker Akira Kurosawa, and “something cracked open”. Despite being surrounded by so much inspiration, it was life in the city that had the most impact. “I wasn’t really in school; I was in New York – falling in love, partying, working three jobs, traveling when I could. It was chaotic and beautiful.”

In New York, Zen was introduced to an actor they admired, “I was drawn to people who seemed to know exactly who they were, and I wanted that, but I didn’t know how to reach it,” they explain. “So I thought, Maybe I’ll be an actor. I joined a studio, fell in love with the craft, and had a life-changing moment in a breathwork class at the British Academy of Dramatic Arts in London; what I learned there still shapes how I work with actors today.”

It was finding sobriety that really allowed Zen to realise their filmmaking capabilities. “Once I stopped drinking, I could feel again, strip back the noise, stop the BS,” they reflect. “I grabbed a camera and filmed my friend Lake dancing, then went home and edited it. A friend told me they thought it was brilliant, and that little dopamine hit made me think, maybe there’s something here.”

After this, Zen knocked on the doors of non-profits, offering to make films for them with “no money, no reel, just hunger.” This appetite fuelled the Zen’s filmmaking fire, with their first branded documentary premiering at Palm Springs Shortfest. It was a journey of compounding little wins. “And I haven’t stopped,” they say.

^{Above, Samsung, 'Creativity Cannot be Crushed'}

Emotion, Soul and Understanding

Zen’s work merges emotional depth, realism and narrative clarity. Their approach, Zen shares, is shaped by the likes of Haruki Murakami’s blend of magical realism, Hayao Miyazaki’s punch and visual sweep,” and Andrew Haigh, “whose work, especially ‘All of Us Strangers’, feels deeply rooted in the everyday, but quietly holds something larger beneath it.”

They stress too, that emotion doesn’t exclusively equate to ‘sad’. “It doesn’t. Emotional means creating a reaction. A feeling. It can be funny, elegant, weird, bold, whatever it needs to be,” Zen explains. “At the end of the day, brands want to plant the seed of their product in someone’s mind. To do that, they have to first earn attention. And attention is earned through truth. Whether that truth comes through humour, vulnerability, energy – there has to be something real at the core of it.”

Zen adds that they’re drawn to stories that feel ‘of this world’ but with an emotional undertow, “where the poetry isn’t in the style, it’s in the restraint”. They explain, “I think narrative clarity comes from knowing what the spine of the story is, and visual poetry comes from knowing when not to over-explain it.”

By working and listening closely to agencies and clients, Zen uncovers the emotional centre of an idea, homing in on exactly how audiences should think and feel. “That feeling becomes the architecture I build around,” they say. “I think in structure, but I also think in emotion. Film, whether commercial or narrative, is musical to me. We’re playing with rhythm, with build-up and release, with pacing. And when you really understand the soul of what you’re making, you can shape the emotional beats in a way that feels honest.”

On set, a shared responsibility for this filmmaking is crucial. “I want the gaffer to care, I want the AC to care, I want all departments to care,” says Zen. “Because when people on a production care, that energy carries down to everyone involved and you can feel it on set. From start to finish, if I take a job, I really try to make it the best it can be, and I let that level of care come through.”

Finding Their Voice

Zen’s confidence in their process, style and directorial voice has come as a result of taking bold creative swings and harnessing opportunities. A pivotal moment, they share, was acting as creative director and director on the Emmy-award winning PSA for CBS, ‘#See US’.

“It was one of those jobs that carried real weight, national broadcast, sixty deliverables, three subjects cast from across the country,” Zen explains. “The budget wasn’t huge, but the commitment was. There was a lot riding on it.” The work came at a time where, similarly to now, queer people were being targeted. “When somehow the national conversation about bathrooms gets more airtime than the actual violence and injustice happening right now.”

“That piece mattered,” Zen continues. “It reminded me why I do this. It made it clear that I’m a director. And I’m proud to say that now, not just because of the title, but because the work reached people.”

One of the stories highlighted in ‘#See Us’ featured a drag queen in Texas who hadn’t told some of their family about that part of their life. When their family saw it on screen, they reacted with acceptance and celebration. “That kind of moment stays with you,” Zen adds, “not long after, I made ‘Nameless You’ and ‘Little Mirror’ back to back, both centred around inner child work, both deeply personal.

“Those projects gave me a different kind of clarity. For a long time, I wasn’t sure what my voice was. I think I was afraid of being too much, or not enough. But those films taught me that if I follow what feels real, the voice reveals itself.”

^{Above, '#See Us'}

Representation is a key component of Zen’s directorial voice. Not, they affirm, a box-checking exercise that consequently waters-down a narrative, but rather something that happens authentically. “I just want to tell stories that genuinely interest me, and that often leads to a wide range of people and experiences.”

“At the same time,” Zen adds, “I’m a white director, and that does mean I need to be aware of how I take up space and hold space. For me, that responsibility shows up in the research. In listening. In asking what the emotional truth of the story is, and making sure I’m not projecting my own assumptions onto something that isn’t mine.”

It’s impossible to pinpoint the exact origins of Zen’s directorial voice. It’s a culmination of life, heartbreak, love, loss and joy. “Life itself contributes to our voice. Like I said earlier, I barely showed up to film school. I was out being a wild goblin of the night. I was falling in love, getting heartbroken, working a million jobs, traveling the world. All of that shapes who I am now. So does therapy. So does aging. So does listening.

“I really believe directors need to live. Not just scroll through [online visual technique library] Eyecandy and reference everything we see. I love that site, I use references too, but we’ve got to make space for silence, for original thought. Sometimes the best ideas come when we turn everything off and listen to what’s already there.”

Now signed to Underhill, Zen’s voice will continue to evolve, shaped by the ambitious nature of the production studio. “They’re kind, goofy guys, and most importantly, they believe in me. As a director, you want to be courted a little. You want to feel like someone’s investing in you, and they did.”

“They’re supporting my narrative film too, which says a lot,” Zen adds, “They’re creatives themselves. They live and breathe this stuff. I think they’re still getting used to my spicy humour, but they’ll come around.”