Kari, thanks for taking the time to speak with Occhi Magazine. You started performing professionally at seven. How did that shape you in terms of discipline, ambition, people-pleasing, and what did it delay you from learning about yourself?
I think at the time, it just felt like discipline and professionalism. My parents instilled in me from a very young age that work is work, and I learned how to carry myself in a workplace long before I really understood what that meant.
I remember doing a commercial when I was really young where the entire shot was me sitting in a chair, pushing a plate of food away from me, and crossing my arms. That was it. I sat in that chair for HOURS. People kept offering me water, snacks, and breaks, and I would politely decline. Eventually, people started going up to my mom on set saying, “She’s so well behaved.” At the time, I didn’t think anything of it. I just knew I was there to do a job.
That mentality carried into everything. Even with fittings or photoshoots, I would never return a piece of clothing to a stylist unless it was properly placed back on the hanger or folded neatly. Those little things became second nature to me. I learned early that being professional wasn’t just about performing—it was about respecting everyone’s time, space, and work.
Looking back now, I can see that there was also a level of people-pleasing that came with that. I became very aware of being “good” and not causing a fuss. It’s something I’m still conscious of and working on to find the balance between being easy to work with and setting your own boundaries.
But those experiences also made me incredibly resilient and open to feedback. I learned not to take constructive criticism personally, but to use it as a way to grow. I think that’s still a huge part of who I am today. I’m always striving for more, not because I feel like I’m never enough, but because I genuinely love learning, improving, and seeing what I’m capable of.
Looking back across nearly two decades in the industry, what’s the biggest gap between what you thought this career would feel like and what it actually feels like day to day?
I think the biggest gap is that, as a young actor, I didn’t fully understand just how much work went into having a career in this industry. You grow up seeing the finished product—the movie, the show, the performance—and it can make the career feel very glamorous. But at the end of the day, it’s a job. It’s work. There’s preparation, auditioning, self-tapes, callbacks, waiting, rejection, emails, scheduling, and then doing it all over again. There’s a lot that happens behind the scenes that people don’t necessarily see.
I also think the industry can be very scrutinizing if you let it. There was a period where the constant auditioning and not hearing back started to affect my relationship with my craft. When you’re constantly putting yourself out there and getting very little feedback, or none at all, it can be easy to lose sight of why you started in the first place. For a while, I felt like I had lost the passion—and honestly, the plot—for what I was doing and why I loved it.
I still have moments like that, but I’ve learned that finding the joy in the work is something I have to actively protect. A huge part of that has been finding a community around me. Having people who understand the highs and lows, creating safe spaces for things like self-tapes, and being able to talk about the industry the way you would talk about any other job has made such a difference. Sometimes you just need to hear that someone has been where you’ve been and to know that you’re not alone.
I think I have a much healthier relationship with the industry now, and I think there’s a lot of joy to be found when you give yourself the space to remember why you love it.
You’ve built a substantial body of work in animation, voice acting, and games—spaces where your instrument is the voice. What parts of your craft became sharper there, and what parts did you have to re-train when stepping into more prominent live-action roles?
Working in animation, voice acting, and games has actually brought me back to vocal training and brushing up on my technique. When you’re projecting into a microphone for hours on end, you have to understand your instrument and know how to use it properly without damaging your voice.
I’ve also had to find the balance between using my voice and staying grounded in the performance. The cadence and momentum of a scene in the booth can sometimes pull you out of that physical grounding. Going back to training has reminded me that the voice is connected to the whole body, and the more grounded I am, the more connected the performance feels. That’s something I’ve been able to carry directly into my live-action work.
Voice work can be intensely imaginative, while live action can be intensely physical and relational. What surprised you most about the shift—what you gained, and what you suddenly couldn’t hide behind anymore?
In the booth, there’s a certain comfort and freedom because you’re not physically being watched. There’s more room to let go, play, and explore without thinking about how you look or what’s happening around you.
On a live-action set, there are so many more moving parts—hair, makeup, wardrobe, continuity, set dressing, props, other actors, eyelines, camera, and everything in between. You have to be aware of all of those things while still finding the emotional space to explore as an artist.
I think that’s what I’ve gained most: learning how to find that freedom in different environments. The mediums require different tools, but the goal is the same—to stay present, take risks, and find the truth of the character within whatever world you’re working in.
With All That She Wants, you’re stepping into your biggest role yet as Paige. What did you need to understand about Paige beyond “sweet” and “effortlessly charming” to make her a real person rather than a plot function in someone else’s love story?
For me, it was important to remember that Paige is just a young girl who wants to have fun. I think we tend to shame young adults who are just going through life in their 20s, but there’s nothing wrong with enjoying life! She isn’t making choices out of spite or hate—she’s just vibing.
There’s a real lightness to her that I love. She has this “God forbid a girl’s cute AND funny” energy. 😉 But underneath that, she also recognizes that Luke is genuinely a great human being to have in your life. She cares about him and values the person he is, even if their relationship isn’t necessarily straightforward.
I think embracing that she’s funny, she’s messy, she’s young, she’s figuring things out, and she’s having fun along the way—makes her feel real to me.
Paige sits inside a central romantic dynamic where audiences may arrive with loyalties already formed. How did you approach playing a character who could easily be judged from the outside—and what did you want viewers to question about the way we assign blame or virtue in love triangles?
Like I mentioned, Paige is a young girl who sees a boy she likes. That doesn’t mean we have to hate her. I approached her by trying not to judge her choices from the outside, but instead understanding where she’s coming from.
I also hope audiences question the idea that in a love triangle, someone doesn’t always have to be the villain. We can cheer for Emma and Luke without needing to put another girl down.
For me, Paige isn’t someone audiences need to love or hate—she’s just a person. I hope audiences can see her that way, too.
What was it like working closely with Annie Murphy and Cooper Raiff?
Oh, it was absolutely wonderful. First of all, both of these human beings are so kind, talented, and of course… hilarious. I remember reading the script and imagining how I was going to get through a few scenes without laughing. Lo and behold, Cooper made me break multiple times on set, and I had the absolute best time.
I also remember on my last day of shooting, we were all sitting in the car and we were sharing stories about our childhood and had so many laughs. And since my dad is such a big fan of Annie’s, I even got to share with them the weird nicknames I call my dad… Not sure if they recall the chat, but that will stay with me forever. Couldn’t have asked for better scene partners to work with. Truly a memorable experience.
Chemistry is often talked about like magic, but it’s usually built through trust and listening. What did the collaborative atmosphere on set look like in practice, and what did you learn about yourself as a scene partner while making this film?
I think chemistry really comes down to creating an environment where everyone feels safe enough to let go and play. Actors can get into their own heads and struggle with self-doubt or insecurity, so I was really grateful that everyone on this film—including Cooper, Annie, and our directors, Scarlett and Andrew—created such a supportive space to explore. There was no fear of trying something new or making a choice that didn’t work.
It also taught me to trust myself more as a scene partner. I’ve learned that instead of putting energy into thinking, “I’m bad,” or “Was my performance good enough?”, I can put it toward my scene partner, really listen, stay present, and channel that energy into something more beneficial for the work instead of the negative mindset that doesn’t do anyone any good.
Bringing a Toronto-set film to TIFF in your hometown is a very specific kind of exposure: pride, pressure, familiarity, and scrutiny all at once. What does it mean to premiere this project at TIFF as someone who’s grown up in this city and in this industry?
It feels incredibly full-circle. I remember how special it felt as a kid to see Toronto on screen—whether it was actually set here or even just shot here and made to look like New York. My family still loves to point out a building or landmark and say, “Oh, I know that place!” or “That’s the Toronto Reference Library!” Those are such core memories for me.
I actually grew up in Markham, just about an hour north of Toronto, and I remember how special it felt to get dressed up and go to the theatre, as a kid. It was a full day affair—putting on a nice outfit, doing my little version of “makeup,” sometimes getting dinner, and then going to see a musical or a play. We weren’t the most well-off family, but my parents always made a conscious effort to put the time and resources aside to share art with us. I think those experiences had a huge impact on the person and artist I became.
Now, getting to live in Toronto and premiere a Toronto-set film at TIFF feels like I get to fall in love with the city all over again, just in a completely different chapter of my life. There’s definitely pride in being able to share a story that reflects the place I grew up around.
Canadian representation—and especially seeing Toronto represented—is so important to me. To be able to contribute to Toronto’s history at TIFF is something that will stay with me as I continue on in my career.
As you expand further into live action, what kind of legacy are you trying to build: the roles you’re offered, the roles you choose, or the way you want people to feel when they watch you—and what would “success” look like if nobody could measure it for you?
Just like with my animated roles, I’d love to bring more strong Asian characters to life in live action. And when I say “strong,” I don’t necessarily mean an action hero—although I’d absolutely love to do an action role someday! Strength can look so many different ways. It could be an older sister who takes care of her family, a CEO running a company, or, one day… a mother. I want to explore the different ways Asian women can be represented on screen and bring those characters to life with as much humanity and complexity as possible. There’s nothing wrong with the math geek girl in glasses who holds someone’s coffee, but there’s so much more to a young Asian female than that.
I don’t think success for me is tied to one specific role or milestone. Success would be just being a working actor, continuing to do what I love, and creating art that people genuinely connect with and take something home with them. If something I’ve worked on can help someone heal, make them laugh, make them cry, or simply make them feel a little less alone, that means more to me than any specific measurement of success.
Ultimately, I want to build a career that allows me to keep telling stories, keep growing, and hopefully leave people feeling something.
Where can readers find out more about you?
They can follow me on Instagram: @kxriwong
About Author
