Meet The Gen Z Director Who Made History As The First Filipina At Cannes' Short Film Section

A small fish. This is what Kyla Danelle Romero felt during her first time at the Cannes Film Festival. She was just 23 years old, creating new connections and basking in the grandness of one of the most prestigious film industry events in the world. Her ticket to the festival was Radikals—a film by Arvin Belarmino, where she served as the co-writer, as it made the cut to the festival's La Semaine de la Critique (Critics' Week). 

Who knew that her next sacred invite to Cannes would be more overwhelming?

Now 25, Kyla has just scored the milestone of being the first Filipina director to compete at Cannes Film Festival's Short Films - In Competition 2025. Agapito, which she co-directed with Arvin, is the sole Filipino title handpicked for the category and went head-to-head with entries from Spain to China. Set in a rundown bowling alley, the 15-minute film spotlights Mira (played by Nour Hooshmand) and the rest of the pinsetters as they await a special visitor.

The grandeur of this Cannes opportunity, however, is rooted in groundedness. In an exclusive chat with Cosmopolitan Philippines, Kyla—who admits to being a certified Cosmo reader—shared the origin story of the film. "'Yung first protagonist namin dun ni Arvin ay dalawang lalaki. This is stemming from the fact na during the immersion process, siyempre we were asking the pinsetters, 'Bakit puro lalaki lang kayo? Siyempre for them, it's a no-brainer kasi malamang panlalaki 'to eh, parang ganun 'yung perspective. It's not out of discrimination directly; it's just out of concern na parang, feeling [nila] hindi kaya ng babae 'tong trabaho, kasi daw mahirap, mainit. Pero we know that women can do whatever they set their minds to," says Kyla. "Kahit naman sa filmmaking, parang medyo may resonance yun[...] sinasabi nila na mahirap, ngaragan, [cinematography] kasi 'yan, mabibigat ang camera or may katangkaran lang ang marunong humawak ng camera na babae. May ganung resonance siya."

Although that was the norm, things didn't feel quite right on paper. "Coming off from that immersion, we wrote two main characters, and that draft, we could not resonate with—even Arvin. Parang, 'Nasaan tayo sa kwentong 'to?' Everytime we make not just characters, but stories and films [themselves], we put parts of ourselves into [them]. Hindi talaga kami maka-resonate sa draft, so what if we [break] the rules and actually [make] the pinsetter a woman? And that woman is Mira."

But don't get them wrong. This choice was not about inclusion just for the sake of it. If anything, it allowed more depth, offering the filmmakers a more focused vision. 

"We realized after making the main character a woman, naging mas complex pa yung pelikula mismo. Naging mas layered pa siya. Kasi oo nga, how do you write a female character na may toughness, and at the same time nandun yung tenderness. Through that, nai-pass din ni Arvin 'yung inspiration niya about his brother, si Agapito, the namesake of the film. Inaalagaan ni Mira 'yung kanyang special needs brother and sinu-sustain niya by working at the pin alley. So parang sobrang naging interesting and sobrang naging human nung kwento after changing the character to a woman."

When it comes to writing about multilayered women, take Ali as another example. Apart from raising the country's flag along with Agapito at this year's Cannes, Ali is another collaboration of Kyla and Arvin (who both penned the screenplay). A co-production between the Philippines and Bangladesh, the Special Jury Prize winner zeroes in on a coastal town where women are not allowed to sing. In hopes of moving to the city, a teenage boy tries his luck at a singing competition.

"Arvin and I—we've always been defiant about our work. We always try not just to bring something new, but to bring something that resists the norm, maybe? Or something that twists a little bit of the things that we know," Kyla explains. 

"[We aim to] just shake it up, we're not trying to revolutionize anything. Just shake people up and make them think. [Ang] brainchild ng concept na 'yun kay Arvin, it's about this character na nakakapagsalita through a second mouth na nasa throat. So sobrang galing nung idea na yun na galing kay Arvin; from there, napaglaruan namin siya. Eventually, pumasok na kami [sa] element [na] may pagka-resistive sa norm. While we were brainstorming, there were certain cultures or small towns in Bangladesh, according to Adnan [Al Rajeev, the director], where that was the case. Very conservative, basically. And that's our way of maybe shaking that conservativeness up without riling up too much."

Meanwhile on Kyla's Instagram Stories post-Cannes, I spotted a quote by filmmaker Agnes Varda, French New Wave pillar: "I didn't see myself as a woman doing film but as a radical filmmaker who was a woman."

"Parang, 'I'm a filmmaker first,'" Kyla reflects. While the industry is not a gendered field, she does acknowledge the male-dominated narrative and how it’s been deemed traditionally masculine. 

"I don't want to invalidate the experiences of my other women filmmakers, especially since in Agapito, babae rin yung cinematographer namin, and she has her own share of experiences in her field na sobrang [gets na] heavily male-dominated. Pero I guess [what] also helped me thrive was those women coming together to actually put forth a community where their voices are safe, or they have safe spaces to be creative and to thrive in [which I'm] super thankful [for] sa prod namin, 901 [Studios PH], tsaka sa aming producers na sina Sir Jon [Galvez], Sir Carlos [Ortiz], [at] si Kristine De Leon [who produced both films Agapito and Ali]. So they really give a safe space regardless of gender na super duper thankful ako. And I hope many people from the industry will do the same."

She adds, "Women can definitely thrive in it. In Cannes, I believe many women filmmakers can do it, especially here in the Philippines. Maraming may kaya. I mean, I'm thankful to be one of the first, pero alam kong marami pang susunod, and yun yung mas masaya sa feeling. Alam mo yun, ‘Shocks, sino kaya yung mga susunod na susubaybayan natin babaeng filmmakers?’”

According to Kyla, the film industry is also heavily sustained by the LGBTQIA+ community.

"It's something seeing your work on a big screen. It's something else seeing your work on the big screen of Cannes," Kyla muses. "Ibang experience siya; it's not just me or Arvin who felt that, [but] the whole crew. Seating arrangement-wise, medyo nasa harap nang kaunti ’yung directors, [then] 'yung crew namin nasa bandang likod, tas yung buong row daw ng crew namin nag-iiyakan sila[...] iba din kasi 'yung sentimentality na binibigay ng pelikula itself.”

What added more color to the experience was the brief sitcom moment. "Parang inabot namin yung mismong brownout. This is three hours before awarding. Lahat kami nagpa-panic kasi pag nagba-brownout pala sa Cannes, hindi lang pala kuryente nawawala, pati signal. Alam mo yung lahat kami tensyonado kasi, 'Okay, awarding na, anong isusuot natin?' Siyempre 'yung mga babae sa 'min, papakat nang bongga, tapos biglang nawalan ng kuryente. Just a funny moment. Nung time na nawalan ng kuryente, lahat ng Pinoy, nagsuguran sa iisang place—it's that one single Filipino store and restaurant."

So, how did this Gen Z filmmaker end up here? The grit she delivers to her films in the present has always been evident even before she landed this territory. If anything, Kyla's story is a resounding answer to the age-old question, "Can non-film graduates have a career in film?"

"Tracing back to my school days, I've always been a writer. I've been writing for literary folios—so short stories [and] more fiction talaga. Then going to college, I started writing stage plays. Very writer at heart," Kyla recounts. 

"I was never given the chance to actually have a formal background in any artistic field kasi practical ang parents," she quips. "They want us to have a practical course, so I was led to [UP] Pampanga [and took] psychology. But while I was studying, nag-venture off na ako into stage playwriting kasi may itch eh, alam mo yun? May itch ka na gusto mong gumawa."

This era of her writing explorations also introduced her to Arvin, who would eventually be her longtime creative collaborator in the next few years. 

"When there's a certain craft or a certain art that you really fall in with, love parang, nagiging compulsion siya eh na, 'Okay, gusto kong gumawa nito' or 'Okay, gusto kong magsulat ng ganito,' 'Gusto kong magkwento in this way.'"

In her third year of college, she made Dosena—a short film following a young boy dealing with the horrors of his 12th birthday—which earned a FAMAS nomination for Best Short. It also bagged third place at the 34th Gawad Alternatibo, which she considers one of her first homes in cinema. Then, she began working in production as a working student in her fourth year of college.

"From there, I already told myself, no doubt, I really wanna pursue filmmaking[...] Very wide-eyed. I didn’t know na, 'Shocks, giyera pala 'to.' It's something I really wanted to pursue."

"It helps me personally, especially in filmmaking; it's not just laborious, but it's also [an] emotionally heavy field. Not in a negative way, but in the sense na parating may puso 'yung pino-pour out sa ginagawa mo. I've encountered [a lot of] people from the industry carrying heavy tolls whenever we work on set."

"So yung 'banlaw,' basically dun siya nakakatulong sa 'kin—kung paano magbanlaw and how to help other people na mag-banlaw as well," she says. "In terms of, I guess, writing some of the characters, it's still cinematic eh, parang iba pa rin 'yung disiplina. Pero understanding humans, having that level of empathy, I guess, is how [my psychology degree] primarily helped. Empathy is important in cinema—actually, in any form of art."