Skin in the game: Anthony Yano Hays

A Japanese man walks into a bar and meets a woman in black, a Jägermeister tap made from human flesh, and… wait. What’s the punchline again?

One of the best compliments I’ve had – and I definitely take it as a compliment – was someone telling me, ‘I don’t know what genre you are’.

There isn’t one. It’s the plot of the wonderfully unhinged spot, Awakening, for Jägermeister, that helped Japanese American filmmaker Anthony Yano Hays win New Director of the Year at the shots Awards Asia Pacfic in 2025.

If you had to sum up Hays’ filmmaking in a single word, ‘surreal’ might feel like the obvious choice – human-flesh beer taps, rapping tortoises, sitcom-intro-style promos – but that barely scratches the surface.

While his ads are bold and offbeat, his music videos are often passion projects for friends and artists he genuinely believes in, unfolding with an intimacy and narrative pull that sits in contrast to his commercial work. And then, just to keep us guessing, he occasionally veers in the opposite direction entirely with more documentary and design-led films, favouring mood, texture, colour and brand storytelling.

I knew it wasn’t something I’d pursue as a career, but it was something I was deeply interested in. I’d wanted to be a director since I was a kid.

Hays’ films slip fluidly between the absurd, the sensitive and the stylish, stitched together by a bold aesthetic that’s oddly hard to label. “One of the best compliments I’ve had – and I definitely take it as a compliment,” he laughs, when I ask how he’d define his style, “was someone telling me, ‘I don’t know what genre you are’.” Whatever you call it, one thing is certain: he’s clearly having fun.

Growing up in Los Angeles between two cultures – with an American film archivist father and a Japanese commercial producer mother – gave Hays an early fluency in switching languages and a sharp instinct for the humour and sensibilities of both American and Japanese media. It’s this duality and the ease he feels moving between worlds that underpins his work, and his life, today.

I was eventually fired by a boss who told me, ‘You don’t want to do this. This isn’t going to lead you to being a director. It takes too many hours of your life.'

While his friends were watching the latest movies in the cinema, Hays was at home devouring the obscure films that his father loved; black and white movies, silent films, 16mm prints of Bride of Frankenstein, quietly building a visual library long before he knew what to call it. That foundation was sharpened when he studied Experimental Film at the University of Colorado, Boulder. “I knew it wasn’t something I’d pursue as a career, but it was something I was deeply interested in. I’d wanted to be a director since I was a kid, so after graduating from the University of Colorado I came back to LA.”

Above: Portrait of Yano Hays, shot by Petter Jensen.

After a short stint shadowing director Anthony Mandler on some music video shoots, he joined Apatow Productions as a VFX coordinator on comedy films produced by Universal Pictures. “I thought it was getting me closer to making films,” he explains. “But I was eventually fired by a boss who told me, ‘You don’t want to do this. This isn’t going to lead you to being a director. It takes too many hours of your life.’” At the time, just being inside the film industry felt exciting to Hays, and a step closer to becoming a director. In hindsight, his firing was a blessing in disguise.

It was such a strange time that I thought, why not try this?

“I drove Uber for a few months and started making music videos for free, sometimes even paying for them myself. I worked a lot with a rapper friend, Old Man Saxon, and those videos started to get attention.” From there, things gained momentum. Hays picked up more work, initially supporting himself by working as an editor before reaching a point where he could make a living as a director.

And then, Covid happened. Having travelled back and forth between America and Tokyo for several years, he realised he was eligible for a Japanese passport. “It was such a strange time that I thought, why not try this? I got the passport, came out here, and have been living in Tokyo full-time for about three years now.”

There’s this kind of run-and-gun spirit of, ‘hey, the budgets aren’t as high as they are in the States, but if we’re going to be doing this, we might as well make something cool’.

One of the first projects he directed in Japan was an intimate short film for Nike, titled What Are You Working On?, which paints a soulful portrait of footballer Shiho Shimoyamada – the first working athlete to come out as a queer in Japan. Realised through a mixture of archival imagery, retro camcorder footage and dynamic shots, Hays depicts the player’s determination to make a positive social impact and pave the way for other LGBTQ+ athletes.

Tokyo was the perfect playground for Hays to push his ideas, drawing inspiration from his mash-up of American and Japanese influences. “A lot of global brands want to shoot in Japan but still make work that speaks to a Western audience,” he explains. “Understanding both sensibilities has really helped me.” Being bilingual was also an invaluable skill on set. “I was working with people from all over the world who’d made the same decision to try Tokyo,” he says. “You’d hear French, English and Japanese being spoken side by side.” 

You start to really care about who you have on set and the kind of energy you bring.

Despite having a population four times that of LA, Tokyo’s ad industry felt noticeably closer. “You build relationships that matter,” he says, “and you start to really care about who you have on set and the kind of energy you bring.” In such a tight-knit community, he soon found that every role, and every project, really mattered. “There’s this kind of run-and-gun spirit of, ‘hey, the budgets aren’t as high as they are in the States, but if we’re going to be doing this, we might as well make something cool’.” That, he emphasises, is what keeps it fun.

Above: Still from Hays' film What Are You Working On? Shiho Shimoyamada, for Nike. 

As a filmmaker shaped by two very different cultures, it makes sense that Tokyo – a place itself defined by corporate and creative extremes – feels like home to Hays. And no project captures this divide better than his branded film for Jägermeister, which evolved from a collaboration between the liquor brand and Japanese artist Doooo, who specialises in making fake human skin.

For me, any time a brand gives you money, it’s an opportunity to make a short film with purpose and a voice.

Awakening follows a young man who feels a sudden urge to escape from the corporate grind. It opens with him drinking with his colleagues in a local bar, feeling dejected by the routine of his lifestyle, until something calls to him – a human-flesh tap machine. He ‘drinks the Kool-Aid’ – or the Jäger – and falls into a dream.

“The story came from something I find really interesting about Japan culturally,” he explains. “On one side you have salaryman culture – suits every day, early mornings, late nights, drinking all evening, waking up and doing it all again. And on the other side, you have people like Doooo, who makes things out of human skin. Japan doesn’t really ask you to choose one or the other, but there’s no in-between”.

Above: Still from Hays' film Awakening for Jaegermeister, featuring the human flesh tap made by Doooo. 

It turned out to be one of the most seamless client collaborations he’d ever experienced. “Every cut, they just said, ‘This is crazy, but we like it. Let’s see what’s next.’ When you’re making something like a human-flesh tap machine, the client understands it’s going to be a little strange. But we still wanted to tell a real story. For me, any time a brand gives you money, it’s an opportunity to make a short film with purpose and a voice.”

I really missed making something where I had total control. So, I told them I’d pay for the video myself.

Awakening stands as a rare example of a brand fully backing a director’s vision and being rewarded for the risk. “It’s probably the work I get recognised for the most, and it started as an assignment from a client, which I think is really special.” He hopes more brands will take that kind of leap and recognise that audiences want to see work, and stories, that feels different.

Music video offers a different format for Hays to explore new themes and storytelling with more creative freedom between branded projects, he explains. “I made a music video out here for a band called Japanese Super Rats. The lead singer is a professional skateboarder, and I genuinely thought the band was great. I really missed making something where I had total control. So, I told them I’d pay for the video myself.”

Little by little, the risk gets stripped away, and you end up making something that feels like everything else. 

With a stripped back crew of around six people and a tight turnaround of three days, the story was inspired by the remote island location the producer took them to. “It was especially meaningful because the lead singer, Kento, really wanted to make it. It was also the first time I’d ever written something starting with the location. That’s how I want to start making everything now.”

The creative freedom of music videos allows Hays to lean into more emotive, narrative-driven storytelling, and his directorial style proves just as suited to quieter human moments as it is to his commercial work. Take his funny, yet strangely tender promo for Old Man Saxon’s Sunday Saxon, which sees the artist dressed as a tortoise, offering advice to a young boy as he shuffles rhythmically across the earth.

Commercials and music videos still feel like a sandbox. You get to collaborate with loads of people. Honestly, I think it’s the best job ever.

While music videos let him experiment without limits, branded work comes with its own set of challenges. Clients who hire directors for their unique vision, hoping to do something different, can often lose their nerve, he explains, and the project loses its edge as it moves through layers of approval. “Little by little, the risk gets stripped away, and you end up making something that feels like everything else. That happens more often than not.”

Over time, learning to recognise when that erosion is likely to occur has become a kind of self-preservation. “It can be pretty dejecting,” he admits. “You get excited about a project, believing a client wants to take a risk, and then the final product ends up playing it safe. It’s eye-opening.”

Above: Still from Hays' music video Sunday Saxon for Old Man Saxon. 

Looking ahead, he’s keen to widen his creative orbit. Though he works with multiple production companies, he isn’t formally represented – something he’s now actively looking to change. With momentum on his side, he feels the timing is right, particularly with Europe in his sights.

While Hays hopes to make feature films one day, his current sense of accomplishment comes from something more incremental: building a body of work distinct enough that clients now trust him to bring his voice into the room. For him, the appeal of the industry was never about “perfecting close-ups of a spoon in a yoghurt ad”.

“What I’m most proud of is being part of enough projects that people understand what my voice is, and then being hired for that voice,” he says. “That’s what makes it fun. Commercials and music videos still feel like a sandbox. You get to collaborate with loads of people. Honestly, I think it’s the best job ever.”