Meet Tyler Mckenzie Evans, a dynamic Canadian director and screenwriter whose passion for storytelling was sparked during weekly childhood escapes to the local theatre. Driven by a desire to break free from suburban monotony, Tyler found inspiration in cinema’s transformative power—a passion that now fuels his filmmaking journey. With a growing body of work, Tyler’s short films have garnered critical acclaim and festival attention. His poignant film, I Live Here, premiered at Aspen Shortfest in 2022 and is currently streaming on CBC Gem. His project, Diaspora—a gripping social thriller exploring the realities of gentrification—debuted at the Toronto International Film Festival and has since captivated audiences worldwide, earning distinctions such as Vimeo Staff Pick and Short of the Week. A 2023 TIFF Filmmakers Lab alumnus, Tyler is committed to creating original, impactful stories centred on black communities and people of colour.
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Thank you for speaking with Occhi Magazine. Can you share the moment or experience that first drew you to filmmaking, and how that initial spark shaped your creative journey?
Thank you for having me! Honestly, what drew me most to filmmaking was going to the movies every Sunday with my parents and being captivated by how movies made me feel emotionally. I was also an avid reader as a kid, and the power that storytelling had on me made me realize that this is something that I wanted to pursue. I want to be able to make films that are able to give people new perspectives and can create an impact.
Who were your mentors or key influences as you began exploring film, and how have their teachings impacted your approach to storytelling?
My biggest influence was my dad. He is an electrical engineer, but he does photography on the side as a hobby. He taught me how to use my first camera, and figuring out how to create images is where my passion began. He showed me that storytelling is just not about the words being said, but the image and what it’s trying to tell you, and what you take away from it.
Are there particular directors, artists, or movements—either within or outside of cinema—that have shaped your directorial voice?
This is tough because there are so many directors that I admire, I could go on all day. But if I were to say what shaped my directorial voice, it would be more so films that different directors have made. Some of which include Moonlight, Do The Right Thing, The Silence of the Lambs, The Shining, Cure, Ratcatcher, Yi Yi, and In the Mood for Love. I could go on and on, but I think you also see it in my work, where I try to do both genre and arthouse, whether it be my horror/thriller short film Diaspora (2022) or Sea Star (2025).
How do you balance personal storytelling with broader social or cultural themes in your work, and what compels you to return to certain subjects or motifs?
When writing a script, I think what feels most personal to me has always been at the forefront. I don’t think about the social/cultural themes; I think they always come out naturally as I write. My films have always been about issues surrounding the black community, to showcase these issues in a fresh perspective. I think every filmmaker is always chasing certain themes and motifs in their films, trying to slowly understand them and themselves, and I feel the same way about my work.
Sea Star is rooted in a deeply personal revelation. How did you approach researching the historical and emotional layers of generational trauma, especially around water in Black communities?
When I first started thinking about this film, I was thinking about my father and his inability to swim. He didn’t get lessons until he was in his 50s. My mom and dad both forced my brother and I to go to swimming lessons as a kid. At the time, I hated every minute of it. As I grew older, I’m extremely grateful that they did. While in the outlining stages, I did a lot of research on the history of the black communities’ relationship with water. Finding out that black people are five times more likely to drown than their white counterparts was a shocking revelation for me. The resources that my community lacked for decades have had an impact on generations.
Your film is described as both poetic and grounded. How do you navigate that tension in your directorial style, and what techniques do you use to achieve such emotional resonance with minimal dialogue?
I’ve always been known to use a lot of close ups in my films. The faces and reactions of great actors tell a lot of the story without them having to say a word. While searching for the lead of Sea Star, I knew I needed an actor who was able to tell a story through their face and body rather than through dialogue. When John Phillips walked in and gave his audition, I knew he was perfect for the role, he was soft spoken and had such a melancholic look behind his eyes. I knew immediately that I had to cast him and I’m so glad I did.
How do you work with your creative team—cinematographer, editor, production designer, composer—to translate your vision into a cohesive, immersive experience for the audience?
Lookbooks are integral to my process as a director. This is where I lay out how I want everything to look, feel, and sound like. It’s where I’m the most clear as the director, before we even start shooting, to make sure that everyone is on the same page. These lookbooks are packed with reference,s including other films, photographs, and music.
What do you consider the most challenging aspect of directing a film that is so intimately tied to your own family history and identity?
The most pressure I feel when it comes to telling a story that’s tied to myself and my community is authenticity. I never want to do anyone a disservice. There is a certain responsibility you hold when telling stories like these, and I always want to make sure I’m getting it right before anything else.
Sea Star tackles the intersection of grief, masculinity, and inherited silence. How did you ensure these themes were authentically portrayed, and what conversations did you have with your cast to bring this depth to the screen?
I learned a lot about myself through talking with John and directing his performance. There is so much said in the unsaid, and I think we had talks around that. John, being from the Caribbean, knows exactly what it means to mask your feelings in times of grief. We’ve both seen it within ourselves and our family members so it felt natural to see it when shooting.
Water is both a literal and metaphorical force in Sea Star. Can you elaborate on how you used water as a visual and narrative device to explore trauma, transformation, and healing?
I knew water would be the main imagery in this film. Not only is it used to explore the themes mentioned, but I also used water as a sort of baptism for our protagonist. He has been someone that’s been so closed off his whole life, and when he’s finally able to lay out in that water, depicts his struggles to accept his reality; he’s at his most vulnerable when he’s floating in that water. I wanted to show that something in our lead character shifted after that swimming lesson.
The film highlights the generational impact of racism and the disproportionate risk Black children face around water. What responsibility do you feel as a filmmaker in addressing these systemic issues, and what impact do you hope the film will have on audiences and communities?
The stereotype of black people not being able to swim has been around for decades. We make light of it, but I’m hoping people understand how serious the issue is after watching Sea Star. It’s never too late to learn how to swim, and I’m hoping more of my community takes that seriously and signs up for a lesson after watching the film.
Sea Star is described as a ‘quiet revolution of healing.’ In a cinematic landscape often dominated by spectacle, what do you believe is the power of subtlety and silence in storytelling, particularly for marginalized voices?
I think there is so much of our trauma that’s been displayed on screen in a violent and unrelenting way, and dont get me wrong, those films are powerful and effective. But for Sea Star I wanted to deal with that trauma in a different way, I knew I didn’t wanted to show any sort of violence or trauma on screen. I think as people we are most vulnerable when we’re alone, when we have to live with our thoughts instead of being surrounded by noise, this is the best time to reflect. We don’t get a lot of those movies in Black cinema and I wanted to add to the catalogue because I think they’re just as important.
Where can our readers find out more about you?
I’m usually lurking on Instagram @tylrevns, or you can check out my website www.tylermevans.com
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