Where Empathy Fails: Paul Lasisi on ‘Love Lost’ and the Urgency of Honest Storytelling

In an age when public opinion is formed in seconds and magnified even faster, filmmaker Paul Lasisi believes something important is being lost: the willingness to understand before passing judgement: why do individuals do the things they do? This worry motivates Love Lost, his most recent film project, an Afrocentric neorealist piece that has been […]

In an age when public opinion is formed in seconds and magnified even faster, filmmaker Paul Lasisi believes something important is being lost: the willingness to understand before passing judgement: why do individuals do the things they do?

This worry motivates Love Lost, his most recent film project, an Afrocentric neorealist piece that has been turned into a three-part YouTube series. The film, which is based on a widely publicised real-life occurrence involving the death of a man supposedly caused by his mentally unstable wife, does not attempt to retell events exactly as they occurred. Instead, it looks at the nature of the response that followed.

“What struck me was not just the story,” Paul Lasisi explains. “It was how they responded to it. There was little effort to understand the circumstances. People were quick to judge.”

That reaction, he argues, showed something more about how society processes information, particularly during times of crisis. Conversations about the incident, particularly on internet forums, were characterised by certainty rather than reflection, emotion over empathy.

For Paul Lasisi, this was not an isolated incident, but rather part of a larger trend. At its foundation, Love Lost represents a major theme that goes throughout Lasisi’s work: the necessity for society to confront itself.

“We are living in a time where people react instantly,” he says. “But reflection takes time, and we don’t always allow ourselves that time, we jump, we rush, we judge.”

The idea for Love Lost emerged during a conversation with his producer, Miriam Cole, as they discussed the role of film in shaping public perception. What began as a general reflection on storytelling quickly evolved into a more focused interrogation of societal responsibility and human nature.

“We were talking about film as a form of power,” he explains. “The ability to influence how people think and feel. That means filmmakers have a responsibility, whether they acknowledge it or not.”

As the conversation turned to the incident dominating public discourse at the time, it became clear that the story they wanted to tell was not the one already circulating. It was not about reconstructing events or assigning blame. It was about examining the mindset that allows such narratives to form so quickly and so definitively.

“I wasn’t interested in recreating what happened,” Lasisi says. “I was interested in what it exposed about us as people.”

That distinction informs the film’s approach. Love Lost avoids the common pattern of unambiguous moral binaries. It does not show characters as purely right or bad, nor does it provide the audience with a clear conclusion to latch onto. Instead, it allows for uncertainty—an intentional divergence from the precision that many audiences demand.

“Real life is not always straightforward,” explains Paul Lasisi. “However, we tend to simplify things since it is easier to process. In doing so, we occasionally lose sight of the truth.

His storytelling style is based on what he calls Afrocentric Neo-Realism, which prioritises authenticity and cultural identity. It is a method that draws from lived experience rather than constructed spectacle, focusing on the everyday realities that often go unexamined.

“I am interested in telling stories that feel real,” he says. “Stories that people can recognize, not because they have seen them on screen, but because they have experienced something similar.”

His story choices demonstrate his devotion to realism. Another piece of his, The Eventide, focuses on children’s moral responsibility to their elderly parents, Africans’ negative perceptions of adult care homes, and the underlying truth behind Black Tax.

This dedication to truth is mirrored in his choice of directing. Lasisi uses natural lighting, actual locales, and performances that emphasise emotional reality to create an immediate and raw environment. In some circumstances, he is willing to work with non-professional actors if they can bring a level of sincerity that is consistent with the tone of the picture.

“The goal is not perfection,” he explains. “It is honesty.”

That philosophy extends to his research process. Rather than approaching the subject from a distance, Lasisi immerses himself in the environment surrounding it. Public reactions, conversations, and the language people use when discussing events become essential sources of insight.

“The research was already happening,” he says. “You just have to pay attention to how people respond, what they say, and what they don’t say.”

It is an approach that enables him to record not only events, but also the emotional and psychological context in which they unfold.

In Love Lost, the landscape is marked by tension—between truth and assumption, empathy and judgement, comprehension and certainty, and the good and bad aspects of human nature.

For filmmaker Paul Lasisi, filmmaking is more than just a creative outlet. It is an action having ramifications.

“Film is powerful,” he explains. “It changes perceptions. It can either strengthen or challenge ideas. That’s why it needs to be treated with care.”

At the same time, he understands the importance of striking a balance between meaning and participation. While Love Lost has a strong thematic weight, it is not intended to alienate the audience.

“It still has to be watchable,” he explains. “People need to connect with it. But there should be something that sticks with them.”

That “something” isn’t necessarily a message in the classic sense, but rather a subtle shift in viewpoint.

“If someone watches the film and pauses before judging the next time, then it has achieved something,” he states.

As the project gains traction, particularly among independent film groups and festival platforms, issues about its role in the larger cinematic world emerge.

Lasisi, however, is reluctant to frame his work in competitive terms.

“I don’t see filmmaking as a competition,” he states. “Great films aren’t competitors. They’re references.”

Instead, his concentration is on making a meaningful contribution to the continuing discussion about storytelling, society, and the function of cinema.

“Every film should bring something,” he states. “The question is whether it adds value or not.”

Love Lost’s significance resides in its refusal to simplify. It defies the impulse to deliver simple answers, instead offering a perspective that is both familiar and frightening.

“We are used to reacting quickly,” Lasisi explains. “But sometimes, what we need is to slow down and think.”

It’s a basic concept, but one that feels increasingly uncommon. In a media climate dominated by speed and immediacy, Love Lost challenges its viewers to do something different—to pause, reassess, and, perhaps most importantly, to delve beyond the surface of what they believe they know.

For Lasisi, that’s when the real job starts.

“Sometimes the most important thing a story can do,” he states, “is make you see things differently.”