A Journey of Self-discovery

KAILEE McGEE MAKES FILMS exploring themes of identity and our need for connection. So when she was diagnosed with triple-negative breast cancer in November 2022 at age 35—launching her into an existential crisis over how the disease would affect her life—she knew she had to make a film about it.

Image courtesy of Kailee McGee

McGee started writing the script while undergoing chemotherapy and immunotherapy. She had found a lump in her breast a short time earlier and later learned she had stage IV breast cancer that had metastasized to lymph nodes in her neck. After initial treatment, her scans showed no evidence of disease, and she had surgery to remove both breasts and received radiation to keep the cancer from coming back.

The resulting 15-minute movie, Can, follows a fictionalized version of herself, also named Kailee, and includes details from the filmmaker’s real-life experience with cancer. But the edgy film, which includes strong language, isn’t a documentary; it falls into a genre known as autofiction that blends autobiography and fiction. This allows the Los Angeles-based director—who also produced and starred in the film—to address broader themes of how a cancer diagnosis can disrupt every aspect of a person’s life. By blending real life and fiction, McGee heightens the realities and absurdities of cancer. In one scene, for example, Kailee is the focus of a fictitious photoshoot where she bares her chest and surgical scars—illustrating both her desire to be seen and her hesitation to tell her story. Yet, even with the fabricated elements, “it’s the most honest thing I’ve ever made,” McGee says.

Can debuted at the South by Southwest Film & TV Festival in Austin, Texas, in March 2024, where it won the Audience Award for Best Narrative Short. “I felt really nervous to share it with other people who navigated cancer … because I felt a responsibility for getting it right, even though everyone’s story is so different,” McGee says.

McGee spoke with Cancer Today about the creative process behind her short film and how her cancer journey has impacted her art.

CT: Why did you decide to make a film about your cancer experience?

McGEE: I’ve been a filmmaker for a long time, and I’ve often used myself or my life as the subject matter of my work. I didn’t know how else to make sense of what was happening to me, except for making art. Making art has been my primary way of processing life and the world around me. It’s something that’s second nature to me.

CT: Did you feel pressure to document your cancer journey as you were going through it?

McGEE: There’s sort of a sick, self-obsessed part of our culture that asks, “How are you going to document whatever is happening in your life? How are you going to present it to your followers, to the world?” Some women I saw had rituals and parties to say goodbye to their natural breasts and photoshoots and held up signs at their first chemo session. I wanted to participate, and I wanted to be in the community, but I wasn’t sure how to be involved. So, I went underground. I didn’t tell many people when I was sick. Ultimately, my way of expressing it and sharing it with people was making this film.

CT: Who was your intended audience for the film?

McGEE: Initially, I made the film for myself. I had a vision of making this film and capturing the state that I was in in the thick of treatment. I had a vision of me being on the other side of it, watching the film and being done with cancer treatment and being like, “Whoa, you did it. Look at you.”

There’s a part in the film where I fantasize about seeing the finished film in a packed movie theater. That vision came true when we premiered the film at the South by Southwest Film Festival in March 2024. That was such a strange, trippy moment because I was like, “I did it. The movie’s done, and I’m almost done with treatment; it’s like I manifested this.” But there’s also this special but strange part of life where things are different than what you anticipate or dream.

CT: How true is the film’s focus on identity crisis to what you really went through?

McGEE: That part was completely true. Being diagnosed threw me for a loop. The amount of physical and emotional change and challenges rocked me. So that felt like the most raw, real thing that I could bring into the film.

My mom is an oil painter, and her favorite subject was me as a kid and even as an adult. So, in my life and family, I always thought of myself as the subject. Growing up with my mom, I felt that I needed to be this beautiful, feminine, perfect blond woman. To have my femininity—my hair, my breasts—physically stripped away, it challenged how I thought about myself. My hair grew back brown and super curly. I had complications with my surgery, so for a year and a half, I lived with a disfigured, asymmetrical chest.

I changed into more of a masculine, butch style. That happened organically; I started wearing my boyfriend’s clothes because I wanted to hide from myself. Navigating the physical changes of my chest specifically threw me for a loop regarding how I felt in my body and how I felt out in the world as a woman. I recently had breast reconstruction surgery. I sat on that decision for a long time. Ultimately, I decided that I just wanted to be “put back together again.” Now, I’m feeling so much more at home in my body.

CT: Do you think your cancer journey will impact you as an artist moving forward?

McGEE: It’s tricky because I don’t want this illness to be something that defines me artistically or as a person. I don’t feel compelled to make another cancer film. But how I relate to myself, my body, the people that I love, and strangers is different now. There is, for me, a notable “before cancer” and “after cancer.” For a long time, I didn’t want to acknowledge that. I just wanted to do cancer, have it be done and move on.

My challenge now is figuring out how I honor that this has happened in my life and bring that into the stories I tell in a way that reflects my nuanced, complex view. I’m currently finishing up a feature script, and the protagonist is where I am right now, a couple years after having a physically and mentally transformative cancer experience. She struggles to connect with her changed perspective and disfigured body post-breast cancer treatment until she meets a luminous actress who reminds her of the woman she used to be. I’m trying to tell the story without it being a cancer movie because, in addition to being someone who’s navigated cancer, I have so much other stuff that makes me a person, like everybody else.

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