CHELUN OU
Transcript · Tape 01 · Subject: Chelun Ou, Director & Producer · Taipei → Bay Area

For fifteen years
I was the one asking the questions:
two thousand strangers,
two hundred films,
two startups.
This time, the camera is pointed at me.

The short version
Chelun Ou
File photo
  • SubjectChelun Ou — director & producer · founder, Ouchelun Films
  • EducationB.A. Drama & Theatre, National Taiwan University — directing & acting
  • Body of work200+ films directed · 170+ produced end to end · 5 past 10M views
  • RecognitionOne Show Gold Pencil (Taiwan's first, 2016) · D&AD Wood Pencil · Clio Bronze (2018)
  • VenturesCo-founder Morpho · Founding Member The Weekend Club (40,000+ members)
  • CurrentAcer 50th-anniversary campaign — teaser out, full film forthcoming
  • StatusTaipei → Bay Area, relocating 2026
  • Contactouchelun@gmail.com · LinkedIn
[00:00:14]
Let's start simple. Who are you?

Someone who thinks by arguing with himself.

On paper: a director and producer from Taipei. Fifteen years, two hundred-plus commercials and music videos — most of them produced end to end by my own studio — for NIKE, Netflix, 7-ELEVEN, and Warner, Sony, and Universal Music. Then four years of building startups. The two halves make more sense together than they sound.

[00:03:40]
Two hundred films. Which ones matter?

Eight.

What Is Happiness — Cathay Financial brand documentary
幸福是召集 — What Is Happiness?
2012 · Brand documentary, Cathay Financial. Two thousand strangers, one question, a van, almost no lighting. Field direction, camera, and edit.
Where the whole method started
Xiao Yu — Not Getting By
Xiao Yu — 不好過
2018 · Music video, Warner Music. Conceived during a break on another shoot. Filmed in 15 minutes, no budget: one performer, color, and type. 2.5M+ views.
The found one
Xiao Yu — So Called Love
Xiao Yu — 所謂的愛
2018 · Music video, Warner Music. Shot the same day as 不好過 — this is the planned film; the other was found in a conversation. 30M+ views.
The planned one
7-ELEVEN Rhythm of Love Wall
Rhythm of Love Wall
2017 · Campaign film for 7-ELEVEN Taiwan's interactive donation installation, with ADK Taiwan and Whatever / PARTY New York. 86,500 visitors in two weeks.
D&AD Wood Pencil · Clio Bronze
Tizzy Bac music video
Tizzy Bac — 穿越光年的孤獨
2020 · MV for the band's 20th-anniversary single. I edited as we shot, building the story on the floor. It's about standing close to someone and never quite reaching them.
If I could keep only one — this
Accusefive — Hard to Come By music video
告五人 — 好不容易
2021 · Music video, Accusefive — one of Taiwan's biggest bands. Fifty million views and counting: proof that some things you make simply travel.
50M+ views
Mixer — Love Addict music video
麋先生 Mixer — 嗜愛動物
2021 · Music video. A rescue job: the label had already turned down another director's version. We reshot it, and the film helped carry the song — and the band — past their own audience.
The rescue
Acer 50th anniversary teaser
Acer — 50th Anniversary
2026 · Global campaign — creative & strategy lead, director & executive producer, with Ogilvy Taiwan. Used parallel Claude threads — strategy, creative, pitch, and review — to pressure-test the concept before final human judgment.
Teaser out · full film forthcoming
[00:09:12]
And the other two hundred?

Most of them were fireworks — designed carefully, launched on time, gone by morning. I don't say that with regret. A good firework has value: it just doesn't ask to be remembered. For scale: sixteen of my music videos have crossed a million views, five have crossed ten million. Some even refuse to go out — in 2019 we made Uber Eats' first Taiwan campaign, "Tonight I'll be eating…", on two weeks of cross-border prep, and its line is still how people here order dinner. But the eight above survived for a different reason: each caught something true that didn't expire with the media plan. The rest live on Vimeo, if you'd like to see the fireworks anyway.

That's my whole theory of curation, by the way. You're reading it.

[00:12:05]
You keep asking people questions. Why?

Because the most important part often happens before the answer — I call it the first beat. The pause. The hesitation. The moment someone stops performing and starts thinking. I learned to protect that moment — not to rush it, polish it away, or cut different people into one convenient message.

"To wake up and find that the world hasn't changed all that much — that's a kind of happiness."
— a high-school student in Taiwan, 2012

I have remembered that answer for more than a decade. Two thousand interviews taught me that people know when you are extracting a quote. They also know when you are trying to understand them. There is no technique that can fake the difference.

[00:17:48]
Then why walk away — twice?

Every few years I ask myself the same question: is this as good as it gets? At the production company, I looked at my seniors and the answer was no — so I became a director. Ten years and a good living later, I asked again — and went to build startups.

I co-founded Morpho, a donor-led giving platform — donors posted what they wanted to support, and people applied, so no one had to perform their hardship to be helped. It served real people and then failed on unit economics, partly because I refused to make generosity a rich person's product. The decision I'm proudest of is the one that killed it. Later I became a founding member of The Weekend Club — weekend brunches with strangers, no profiles, no swiping. An AI decides who sits together — and much of its logic began as things I noticed at the tables and taught the engineers, without writing a line of code. In our home market, nine in ten guests say they'd recommend it. It grew from a Google Form to forty thousand members across Taiwan, the US, the UK, and Singapore.

Film taught me to find the story. Startups taught me what it costs to be wrong.

[00:24:30]
Hold on — somewhere in there you were also a portrait photographer?

For a year. Three hundred strangers, and one accidental experiment: when I let people choose their own final shots, they picked photos my professional eye would have rejected — and loved them. How you think you look and how the world reads you are two different pictures. That finding is why The Weekend Club has no profile photos at all: the photographer who sold better profiles built a product without them.

Portrait, street, natural light Portrait, park, golden hour Portrait, laughing, glass-block wall Portrait in profile, window light
Most of those portraits were made for private lives, not my résumé. These few stayed because their owners said yes.
[00:29:16]
And now AI. Really?

Fair. Here's what actually happened: this February I took on a pitch for Acer's 50th-anniversary film, with a timeline tight enough to force a different process. I didn't ask Claude to write it. I built a debate room: threads for strategy, creative, pitch, and review, kept apart, then made to challenge each other. What survived was sharper than anything I started with. We won.

For most of my career, asking "can this be better?" eventually hit a ceiling — budget, market, compromise. AI is the only craft I've found where that question is the engine, not the ceiling. For the first time, my favorite question has somewhere to go.

[00:38:02]
Says who?

Good question. Don't take my word for any of this:

[00:44:51]
Last one. What do you want?

The same thing I ask of everyone else: a real answer.
I'm looking for it in the Bay Area.

Currently in Taipei, relocating to the Bay Area in 2026. If this sounds like the kind of person your team needs, write me.