In Vietnam, producing at a global standard isn’t just about technical skill—it’s about mastering the art of resilience, adaptability, and emotional intelligence. This is the world of Lyly Vu, Producer at 116 Pictures in Ho Chi Minh City, who kicks off the m25 Global Producers Series with a candid look at her craft. But here’s where it gets fascinating: Vu doesn’t just navigate the fast-paced, ever-changing landscape of Vietnamese production—she thrives in it, blending global expectations with local rhythms to create work that resonates internationally.
Vu’s journey is deeply rooted in Vietnam’s unique cultural and historical tapestry. Growing up between the disciplined, restrained mindset of Northern Vietnam and the freer, emotionally driven South, she learned early on how to balance structure with flexibility. ‘Control without empathy creates fear,’ she reflects, ‘while freedom without structure creates chaos.’ This duality shapes her leadership style today, where she leads not with pressure, but with quiet steadiness, reading the room and solving problems before they escalate.
And this is the part most people miss: Vietnam’s production scene isn’t just about efficiency or cost-effectiveness—it’s about a mindset. ‘If something doesn’t exist, we build it. If a system doesn’t fit, we bend it,’ Vu explains. This adaptability, combined with a relentless focus, is what makes Vietnam a global competitor. From world-famous Vietnamese coffee fueling crews to the motorcycle-inspired rhythm of a shoot day—warm up, find balance, and then move relentlessly forward—the industry here is a masterclass in turning challenges into opportunities.
But managing a global production in Vietnam isn’t without its challenges. When international expectations collide with local realities, the real test isn’t technical—it’s human. Vu recalls an early project where the visual language was still evolving, the weather was unpredictable, and the locations were changing faster than the plan. ‘You don’t control a shoot here,’ she says, ‘you listen and adapt.’ It’s exhausting, fragile, and yet, somehow, it works.
Here’s where it gets controversial: Vu challenges the common misconception that producers are just budget controllers or problem announcers. ‘We’re the quiet magicians,’ she insists, ‘placing invisible weights to keep everything balanced.’ From adjusting timing and energy to preventing problems before they exist, the most critical work often goes unseen. And while she keeps her most impactful on-set secret close to her chest, she’s clear about one thing: ‘That’s part of the craft.’
Every production is a delicate dance between vision and budget, ego and outcome. Vu’s toughest calls? The emotional ones. ‘There are moments when you have to kill something beautiful because it doesn’t serve the message,’ she admits. But it’s the tension—the adrenaline, the chest-tightening anxiety—that reminds her she’s in the right place. ‘Caring under pressure is a privilege,’ she says, echoing the wisdom of her EP, Gordon, who reminds her that this tension is a compass, not a weakness.
Global brands often come to Vietnam expecting efficiency, stunning landscapes, and cost advantages. What they don’t expect? The emotional depth of the process. ‘Our sets don’t feel cold or transactional,’ Vu notes. ‘Hierarchy exists, but everyone still matters. Respect moves sideways, not just vertically.’ Vietnam’s rhythm isn’t something to control—it’s something to respond to, with humility and instinct.
So, here’s the question for you: In an industry increasingly driven by technology, how do we ensure that human collaboration and emotional intelligence remain at the heart of production? And more controversially, are global brands truly ready to embrace the social and emotional dynamics of local markets like Vietnam, or do they risk missing out on the creative partnerships that make this industry so vibrant?
Let’s discuss—Vu’s story is just the beginning.
