Liz Rao’s debut live-action short The Truck arrives already charged with urgency, but with Spike Lee and Joan Chen stepping aboard as executive producers, the film now bears the unmistakable glow of an awards-season contender. The collaboration is more than symbolic: it is a generational passing of the torch, with two titans of American cinema lending their weight to a young filmmaker whose voice feels both undeniable and necessary.

Set in the tense social landscape of post-Roe America, The Truck follows a Chinese American teenager and her boyfriend as they attempt to buy the morning-after pill in a small town where reproductive rights are policed as quietly as they are fiercely. The premise is simple but combustible—an everyday act transformed into high-stakes survival.

Rao uses this premise to craft a coming-of-age thriller that simmers rather than shouts. With Shirley Chen and Daniel Zolghadri delivering performances that are, as insiders describe, “quietly devastating,” the emotional realism feels lived-in, not staged. Their vulnerability becomes the film’s engine: the palpable fear in small gestures, the loaded silences, the searching glances that say everything about youth confronting institutional power.

What distinguishes The Truck is the clarity of Liz Rao’s sensibility. Her direction blends the romance of Americana—open roads, convenience-store lights, dusty afternoons—with the lurking menace of a country tightening its grip on bodily autonomy. It’s a juxtaposition that feels uniquely hers and, more importantly, necessary for this cultural moment.

Rao’s background as the daughter of immigrants, raised between Tennessee and Chicago, informs every frame. She navigates identity, belonging, and personal freedom without reducing her characters to symbols. They are teenagers first, awkward, uncertain, searching, caught in a political crossfire they never asked for.

Spike Lee describes the film as “an urgent, gripping look at Teen Love and The Freedom to choose in This America right now,” praising Rao’s fearlessness and clarity of vision. Joan Chen, herself a groundbreaking filmmaker, notes Rao’s “pressing and much-needed perspective,” and she’s right: Rao is working with a rare combination of soul, precision, and political sharpness.

The film is buoyed by an accomplished creative team: Gianna Badiali’s cinematography renders rural America with both beauty and unease; Marianne Auvinet Gould’s production design nails the authenticity of teenage life under pressure; and Orel Tamuz’s score pulses with emotional restraint before blooming into moments of haunting resonance. These elements make The Truck feel larger than its runtime—an immersive, tonally cohesive experience.

It’s no accident that The Truck has already world-premiered at Telluride, screened at MoMA, won the Grand Jury Prize at the Oscar-qualifying Florida Film Festival, and secured Best Screenplay at the Rhode Island International Film Festival. Oscar-qualifying status is only the beginning; with the backing of Lee and Chen, Liz Rao stands positioned as one of the strongest female directors emerging on the awards circuit.

The industry has been hungry for new voices who can speak to the complexities of American identity without falling into didacticism. Rao’s work delivers precisely that. Her handling of politically charged material is empathetic rather than heavy-handed, and her command of tension rivals that of seasoned feature directors.

Short films rarely break out with this level of momentum. The Truck is already doing it.

Verdict: A Quiet Thunderbolt

The Truck feels like a fuse lit at exactly the right cultural moment. It is affecting, tightly crafted, and anchored by a filmmaker whose instincts are unmistakably sharp. With Rao nearing completion of her NYU MFA and already expanding this world into a debut feature, it’s clear this short is only the overture.

If the Academy is looking for work that is artistically striking, socially resonant, and guided by a bold new female director, The Truck belongs at the center of the conversation.

Oscar potential: very strong.
Filmmaker to watch: unquestionably Liz Rao.

10/10 – Jane Broder