Self-Reflection

Completing Under the Flight Path has been more than a media production assignment – it has been a return to my own history. Filming at Ma Tau Wai Estate, Munsang College, and the checkerboard hill forced me to revisit memories I had not touched for decades. The 1993 China Airlines crash, the 6 am planes, and the silence after 1998 were not just stories; they were my life.

The rough cut ran over 8 minutes, so I refined the script and followed a shot‑by‑shot timing sheet to reach 6 minutes 58 seconds. Every cut was a decision about what to keep and what to leave unsaid.

A deliberate research choice was inserting two AI‑generated shots into my actual filmed work. I wanted to test what “real” means in a documentary. The AI clips are visually smooth but hollow – they have no breath, no hesitation, no lived weight. My handheld, imperfect shots carry the grain of a 66‑year‑old man standing in the wind. That contrast became an unspoken argument: experience cannot be generated.

This project taught me that first‑person documentary is a rigorous method of inquiry. It also reminded me that the checkerboard still stands – faded but not gone – like memory itself.

I have learned to trust my voice, to pause longer than feels comfortable, and to let silence be part of the story.