Beyond the Action: How Darius Shu Redefined Second Unit Cinematography on Justin Lin’s ‘Last Days’

What happens when a director known for scale and speed gives you full creative autonomy to shoot narrative sequences across four continents? We sat down with cinematographer Darius Shu to discuss his work on Justin Lin’s Last Days, which world-premiered at the Sundance Film Festival. 

In this conversation, Darius breaks down how he approached the second unit as narrative storytelling in this unconventional process — shaping emotional continuity across Iceland, Thailand, India, and beyond. Working closely with the main unit, he used mobility, light, and restraint to turn moments of transition into moments of meaning.

From Sony FX6 guerrilla setups to large-format cinematic workflows, this is a deep dive into what second unit cinematography can truly be.

Let’s dive in.

Darius, you mentioned that reading the script for Last Days echoed your own “state of being” at the time. As a DP, how do you translate a personal, internal emotion into a specific visual palette?

When I first read Last Days, it hit a little too close to home. That feeling of searching for purpose, asking yourself, “Where do I fit? Where do I belong?” that wasn’t theoretical for me, it was very much a lived state of being at the time. And once that connection is there, the visual language almost reveals itself.

I leaned into natural light and open space, lots of negative space, letting frames breathe. I wanted the images to feel like they were holding questions rather than answering them. Wide frames where the character has room to exist but also room to feel a bit lost inside.

I’m very guided by how light feels and falls emotionally. Golden hour naturally carries vulnerability and transition, while softer shadows lend themselves to introspection, and I use that depending on the state of mind of John Chau. But more than anything, it was about responding to what Sky Yang (portraying John Chau) was giving me in the moment.

I wasn’t imposing emotion onto the image; I was reacting to it. That instinctive exchange between Sky’s performance and my camera is what keeps the visuals honest, and that’s always what I’m chasing.

Justin Lin is a master of scale, but this film feels like a deeply intimate exploration of humanity. How did you balance the “grandeur” of Iceland and Thailand with the “fragility” of the characters’ journey?

Working with Justin, I love how he envisions scale. It is always part of the film’s DNA, but what I loved about Last Days is that the scale never exists just to impress. It’s always in service of something human.

My instinct was to let the landscapes frame the character rather than overpower them. Iceland, India, and Thailand are vast, overwhelming places with wildly different terrains and climates, and you can easily get seduced into trying to match that scale visually. Instead, I did the opposite. I leaned into simplicity, cleaner compositions, restrained camera movement, and allowed the character to feel small within the frame.

That sense of smallness is where the fragility lives. The grandeur stops being a spectacle and starts becoming emotional pressure. I wanted to find a visual way of expressing loneliness, searching, and the weight of existing in a very big world. When the environment feels immense, and the character feels exposed inside it, that’s when the imagery starts to say something meaningful.

You worked closely with Oliver Bokelberg ASC. In a massive production like this, what was the most valuable piece of “ASC-level” wisdom he shared with you regarding the 2nd Unit’s narrative role?

Working with Oliver really reshaped how I think about second unit and my craft as a cinematographer, not just creatively, but in how you advocate for the image within a large production.

The biggest ASC-level lesson he shared was the importance of fighting for the image. That means speaking up early, asking for the right equipment, pushing for proper recces, and making sure you have what you need to do the job properly. Not in an ego-driven way, but in service of the film.

At the same time, he encouraged me to trust my gut when shooting. Preparation is essential, but once you’re on set, you can’t live in your head. You need clarity, confidence, and the ability to respond instinctively to what’s unfolding in front of you. That balance between preparation and presence was invaluable, and it’s something I’ve carried into every project since.

Let’s talk about the “Golden Hour” obsession. You mentioned chasing sunsets and sunrises across two countries. What was your strategy for staying mobile and fast enough to catch that perfect light in such different climates?

Golden hour is incredibly romantic… and completely ruthless. It’s basically the most beautiful light you’ll ever get, but it has absolutely no sympathy for your schedule.

Iceland and Thailand couldn’t have been more different. In Iceland, we were spoiled, sunsets that lasted over an hour. It gave us space to play, explore, and almost wander with the light. We were travelling as light as we could with the Sony FX6. Sky and I were travelling in our camper van for two weeks, through storms and snow, jumping in and out, grabbing shots, very run-and-gun, very instinctual. It felt freeing.

Thailand was the opposite. Golden hour there is blink-and-you’ll-miss-it, maybe twenty minutes if you’re lucky. That meant meticulous planning. Locations had to be pre-scouted with sun paths in mind, and we had to accept that sometimes you only get one chance at the exact colour of dusk or dawn you’re chasing before it gets pitch dark.

Those moments had to be tightly coordinated, drone operators on standby, talent on the ground, vehicles in motion, everything moving in sync. We spent hours in daylight rehearsing drone moves with the actors and vehicles, studying terrain on Google Maps, figuring out how the landscape shapes would read from above, and predicting where the sun would land in relation to it all.

When it works, it feels effortless on screen. Behind the scenes, it’s controlled chaos, but that pressure is kind of the thrill. You’re racing the sun, and when you catch it, it’s magic.

The trailer features your aerial and drone cinematography. Instead of just “wide establishing shots,” how did you use the drone to mirror John’s “restless pursuit of purpose”?

I’ve always felt drones get the reputation for being glorified postcards, beautiful, but emotionally empty. I was really conscious of not letting that happen here. I never wanted the drone to feel like it was just announcing, “Welcome to Iceland”. 

Instead, we treated the drone as an extension of John’s inner state. It drifts, it searches. We leaned into long, continuous movements, gentle push-ins, and moments where the framing feels slightly unresolved. Almost like the drone itself is asking the same questions John is.

There were times when we’d intentionally avoid the “perfect” aerial composition. If it felt a bit unsettled or off-centre, that was usually a good sign. The goal again was never spectacle. If the audience feels movement without arrival, then the drone is doing its job.

You specifically thanked Alexander Vegh for “venturing into every scene fearlessly.” On a practical level, how does the relationship between a 2nd Unit DP, 2nd Unit Director, and the Drone Camera Operator change when you’re shooting in extreme locations like caves or mountain tops?

Alex and I clicked instantly and worked well together. With him doubling as VFX supervisor, I’d follow his lead when executing VFX shots, but we also had plenty of brain-to-brain sessions, sketching out our main shots on Cadrage during rehearsal days, recces in the forest and water, so we could show Justin and Oliver a little visual mockup of what we had in mind, and they could approve it.

The drone operator joined the party in the same way. Alex and I would plot the camera’s “movement language”, where it should linger, where it should dive in, and where it should almost hover along the landscape. Out in extreme locations like caves or mountaintops, that dynamic really kicks in: Alex gives me the freedom to shoot, and we riff ideas spontaneously on the day while he monitors what I shoot.

When everyone’s instincts sync, the camera stops feeling like gear and starts feeling like a co-adventurer in the scene.

Last Days uses both the Sony FX6 and the Alexa 35. When you were shooting those “guerrilla” narrative sequences, did you find yourself leaning more on the FX6’s internal NDs and autofocus, or did you stick to a more traditional cinema workflow?

For the guerrilla narrative moments, the Sony FX6 was a total game-changer. It’s light enough to carry all day without feeling like a workout (I was hiking, climbing, walking miles together with Sky), and I leaned on its internal NDs and fantastic autofocus to keep things handheld and flowing. 

Even so, I never abandoned a cinematic mindset. Framing, exposure discipline, and intention stayed front and centre; the tech just cleared the path between what I felt and what the camera captured. When we needed more latitude, depth, or precisely controlled movement, the ARRI Alexa 35 stepped up beautifully, paired with Angenieux Optimo Zooms to switch focal lengths seamlessly on the fly.

Both cameras handled low light very well, which was essential since so much of my second unit work leaned on natural light. It was a thrill to balance that freedom with cinematic discipline and really chase moments that felt alive.

From the snowfields of Iceland to the heat of Thailand and India—what was the biggest technical challenge your gear faced? Did the FX6 or Alexa 35 ever “complain” in those extreme environments?

The biggest challenge wasn’t any single condition; it was the constant switch from one extreme to another. Freezing cold, intense heat, humidity, salt water, all in a single project. One of the trickiest moments was getting the FX6 onto a kayak in the middle of the water, dealing with the tides and waves.

Then there was the helicopter shot: we weren’t allowed to rig a camera outside, so we had to improvise with a Ronin gimbal and the FX6 to ensure the shot wouldn’t be affected by the vibration and movement of the helicopter. It worked beautifully, and it was a good reminder that sometimes keeping things simple with the limited resources that we have in an indie film is the best way to get the shot.

Batteries, of course, were another story; they drain fast in Iceland’s cold and Thailand and India’s heat. But the cameras themselves? They never really “complained”. They just kept performing, as long as you treated them with a bit of respect.

Second Unit work is often misunderstood as just “the B-roll team.” After this experience, how would you redefine the 2nd Unit’s contribution to the emotional DNA of a feature film?

The second unit isn’t just B-roll; without it, scenes can’t truly connect. On Last Days, our unit worked closely with editor Dylan Highsmith, taking his notes while we shot to ensure each sequence elevated the story and flowed seamlessly from one moment to the next in the edit.

While the main unit captured their footage, we looked for ways to support them and enhance the overall vision. We collaborated hand-in-hand, reviewing dailies daily to maintain continuity in visual language, colour, and tone, blending seamlessly in the final film in one cohesive look.

This second unit experience went far beyond the conventional second unit role in this film, and it was special to me how much trust Justin and Oliver had given me. It wasn’t just about capturing locations or action; it shaped the emotional journey itself.

I even had the chance to shoot alongside the main actors, with my footage forming a 3-minute adventure montage of John Chau at the heart of the film, including the majority of the aerial photography and the India arrival sequence. My shots also appear in the opening and closing sequences, creating a cohesive visual bookend for the film.

You’ve shot across four continents for one movie. If you could go back to day one of production and give “Past Darius” one piece of advice for this journey, what would it be?

Nothing ever went exactly as planned, and that’s where the magic lived. Find and discover. Stay present, stay curious, and don’t be afraid to let the unexpected shape the story. You never know what you get out of it. 

A huge thank you to Darius Shu for sharing these practical insights and for giving us a glimpse into the “controlled chaos” of a global production. We’re excited to see where his eye for natural light takes him next.

Keep up with Darius’s work on @dariusshu_ and www.dariusshu.com

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