From Loss to Self-Discovery: An Interview with Columbia Film Student Buffy Cautela

The last five years, from 2020 to 2025, have been challenging for many, and Columbia student Elizabeth “Buffy” (like the Vampire Slayer) Cautela is a fine testament to that. Coming from a working-class background in Hudson, Massachusetts, Buffy had to work exceptionally hard to find herself in the dream scenario of being in the Columbia University Film MFA program. Now, her career opportunities are continuing in the spirit of fun she had as a kid, making home movies with her brother and best friends.

The journey wasn’t easy for her and has come with profound revelations. During the COVID-19 pandemic, Buffy’s father tragically passed away, and given social distancing protocols at the time, she couldn’t share her grief with anyone in person. Shortly after, Buffy began to realize her identity as a bisexual woman, which came with confused feelings. Through all of this, however, she has persevered and discovered herself. After graduating from Fitchburg State University, she worked as a production assistant (PA) in the Boston area, including big-budget productions like The Walking Dead: Dead City (2023 – Current) and Madame Web (2024). (You can see Buffy’s IMDb page here.)

At Columbia, Buffy stands out for her openness and unique perspective. When recollecting her experiences and what has propelled her to come here, she knows that the past five years have shaped her into the creative mind she currently is. Having working-class ethics has given her a productive mindset to work hard and collaborate with people, which has benefited her greatly in her filmmaking aspirations. Recently, she sat down and told of her incredible story of perseverance in an interview:

You’ve talked about coming from a working-class background. How has that shaped your perspective on filmmaking and the industry as a whole?

You don’t need to spend much money to make a good movie. I care more about the story than the production values. Therefore, I write things I know I can do with what I have. It also helps that I have great friends who do stuff for me for free because we’ve been through it all together. Going to school with working-class people at Fitchburg – all of us working part-time while studying – so I’ve learned how to make a lot out of very little. I’ve learned how to make deals: this for that. For instance, I created a short film about barbecue, and the man who catered food for us both on and off-screen did so pro bono. In return, I produced a promotional video for his non-profit organization, which aims to combat food insecurity. Films like Frances Ha (Noah Baumbach, 2012) and Richard Linklater’s Before trilogy (Before Sunrise, Before Sunset, and Before Midnight) inspire me with their stripped-down approaches and nuanced stories. I believe I can tell stories like that, too.

Was there a particular moment or experience that made filmmaking feel possible for you, not just aspirational?

When I was in high school, I was in a film club. The first documentary I made earned me an award of excellence from the National Academy of Television Arts and Sciences New England Chapter. I didn’t think of it as a career path at the time, but I was ecstatic about the reward. One of my film teachers told me I could pursue a career in filmmaking, which was crazy to think because no one in my life had any involvement in the field, so it was never something I thought possible before. It was always something fun with my brother and friends as a kid, but being told I could make a career with this by someone who taught me so much about film – and now has his own production company – motivated me to really do it.

You’ve worked on large productions like Madame Web and The Walking Dead: Dead City. What did you take away from those experiences that you’ve applied to your own creative work?

Both experiences made me realize that I don’t want to tell stories that I can’t relate to. I like working in a stripped-down environment because I like knowing everyone. On big sets like that, you get lost in a sea of people, and it’s hard to connect. That said, I met great people who helped me later. On The Walking Dead, I met the travel coordinator, and we became friends. We’ve since helped each other find jobs and whatnot.

For many young filmmakers, the leap from PA work to writing or directing can feel huge. What’s helped you bridge that gap?

I was already writing and directing in high school, which is small, but still. When I started as a PA, I noticed what does and doesn’t work. “I don’t like how this director is doing this,” or “How would I do that differently?” were the thoughts that I kept thinking. It was a great learning experience to think critically about the production process and how I would approach things. My biggest advice to people is to work as a PA before you commit to film school (graduate school, at least). I’m blown away by how many people I’ve seen who earned their film degrees and then did one assistant job, just to realize filmmaking isn’t for them. Filmmaking is crazy with so many working components and 12-hour-plus workdays, and I knew after two years of PAing that I was crazy enough to commit to it long term. You have to BE IN IT to know if it’s right for you.

You’ve said that your father’s passing was a turning point for you. How did grief transform your relationship to art or storytelling? Did filmmaking become a form of healing, or more of a way to make sense of what was happening around you?

Oh my gosh… total form of healing – absolutely! After my dad died and the grief that came with it, I became a highly empathetic person. The stories I’m interested in telling have completely shifted – from fun comedies to emotional territory. That experience gave me a perspective that most people my age – not to say I’m better than anyone – haven’t acquired yet. It was also formative for me because he died – not of COVID – during the pandemic, and I was isolated; I couldn’t even see my friends in person. So, I had a lot of self-reflection during that time, and I’ve explored those complex feelings in my work since then. It has been healing because my relationship with him has evolved, and my work has allowed me to make sense of many things.

You mentioned discovering your bisexuality during a time of great personal upheaval. How has that discovery informed your voice as a writer?

I’m drawn to queer stories, even if I don’t always focus on that. That said, I like to focus on bisexual stories because there isn’t much representation out there since it seems like much of the focus is on the binaries of gay or lesbian, and not the in-between. I’m fascinated by the in-between because I’ve been stuck in it and didn’t fully understand who I was. When I write now, I can tackle more complex issues and characters, which really helps me. I can write about straight, gay, and bisexual people because I’ve grappled with these perspectives.

You’re at Columbia, one of the top programs in the country – arguably the world. What kind of stories do you want to tell next, and what kind of impact do you hope they’ll have?

Columbia was a pipe dream for me. I have a unique voice here. I like awkward, queer dramedy, which no one else does here. Most people seem to try writing the most dramatic and depressing story possible, which has its merits, but I like to explore the levity that arises out of our depression. That’s important since the world is depressing right now. I’m bringing my perspective as a working-class Bostonian: I love the Red Sox and Fenway Park. I’m currently writing a TV pilot about hockey, and no one at Columbia is doing the sports genre.

When you look back at everything that’s brought you here — loss, discovery, perseverance — what would you say to your younger self starting out?

It’s hard because I don’t think I’d want to tell my younger self about what was going to happen. That may sound strange, but I believe I needed to go through those dark times to become the person I am today, and I’m happy with who I’ve become. If I had to tell myself something, it would be that you may think it’s the end of the world, but I promise you it isn’t. Everything that happens to you will make you better at writing, directing, and living every day.