Director Chris Eska talks about isolation and disconnection and reveals the real meaning behind the phrase “doki-doki.”

What led you to make this film?

I was disillusioned with L.A. and film school and took a year off to backpack across India and Asia. I met a lot of fascinating Japanese travelers in other countries and decided to visit them in Japan at the end of the year. Several people told me stories about commuter life, and a friend's uncle actually married a woman he had seen as a stranger for years on the train platform.

What interests you the most about Japanese culture?

There's something uniquely cinematic about personal interactions in Japanese culture—a cycle of repression and release that gives a profundity to the expression of emotion that's largely missing from American life.

Does “doki-doki” mean anything in Japanese?

"Doki-Doki" is a Japanese onomatopoeia that refers to the sound of the heart beating. In slang popular with young women, it has come to mean a heightened state of anticipation or excitement, especially concerning the "butterflies" in a girl's stomach when she's near a boy she has a crush on.

What was the most interesting thing that happened during the making of DOKI-DOKI?

On the first night of shooting, I was feeling very confident and comfortable with the culture despite my “foreigner” status. As they were dressing the lead actress in her yukata (a complicated traditional festival robe), her mother strongly disapproved because there was one inch of slack in the back of the neck. It had to be completely retied because any slack is apparently a sign of loose morals. Then when I put the lead actress and lead actor together in their first scene, I told them to hold hands and for her to kiss him on the cheek. He nearly fainted. Despite being an incredibly handsome 20-year-old actor, he had never been this close to a woman! After these first few moments, I realized how little I understood and that I would have to rely on my Japanese crew to help me tell this story.

What are you working on now?

A screenplay about loss, connection and cave diving.

What do you hope to achieve with this film?

Although filmed halfway around the world in another language, the film's concept originated in my feelings of isolation while living in Los Angeles. My Japanese friends felt the same way in Tokyo, and I thought there was something particularly moving about feeling disconnected when you're constantly surrounded by street crowds and packed into overflowing subway cars. One of the film's main themes is the importance of coming out of your shell and finding ways to make connections.

The independent film business is a difficult one. What keeps you motivated?

A feeling of connection when strangers say the film has made an impact on their lives.

Why did you choose to present your film on public television?

It’s more of an honor for the filmmaker rather than a choice. PBS is rare in its mission of diversity, and there’s no larger audience for short films.

What are your three favorite films?

Red Beard, Rosetta and Pather Panchali.

If you weren’t a filmmaker, what kind of work do you think you’d be doing?

Fieldwork in public health.

What do you think is the most inspirational food for making independent film?

Suppli sportdrink and Pino ice cream (found at any Japanese convenience store).

Which filmmakers have most influenced your work?

The Dardenne Brothers, Ken Loach, Truffaut, Satyajit Ray and Kurosawa.

If you could have one motto, what would it be?

“Let’s do one more take.”

What sparks your creativity?

Traveling while listening to music.