Wit, Vulnerability, and the Art of Being Human with YouTuber Tilek All Better

Brooklyn-based filmmaker and YouTuber Tilek All Better brings a rare honesty to his work — blending humor, vulnerability, and the kind of raw human connection that lingers long after the screen fades to black. Born in Kyrgyzstan and raised in New York, Tilek channels his personal experiences, digital nostalgia, and offbeat imagination into short films that feel as spontaneous as they are deeply felt. His YouTube series Street Therapy exemplifies this balance, a social experiment turned emotional dialogue, where he approaches strangers on the street to discuss themes like abandonment, anxiety, and the quiet search for belonging. The result is something both funny and disarming: unscripted moments that reveal just how much we all share beneath the surface. In this interview, Tilek shares his creative process, the inspirations behind his work, and how he continues to explore the delicate equilibrium between wit, vulnerability, and cinematic vision.

Q: Let's start off with a fun Icebreaker: If you could turn any existing meme into a short film, which one would it be, and why?

A: I would make a short film about a character inspired by Daniel from the viral 2016 “Damn Daniel” meme, who gained worldwide recognition for wearing a crisp pair of white Vans sneakers. Maybe Daniel secretly didn’t want fame. Maybe for the rest of his life, he’s plagued by the adoration he received during his youth for something so arbitrary like his shoes. Can he ever let the love and attention he received from that time fade away with internal peace, or does he chase that feeling once more? Does he try to spark another viral moment that maybe backfires and leaves him mortified and ruined? Can he be Damn Daniel ever again?

Q: Can you tell us a little bit about your background and how you got into film?

A: I was born in Kyrgyzstan but grew up in Brooklyn, New York. I think like a lot of kids in my generation, I was kinda raised by YouTube. I have immigrant parents, so a lot of what I learned about this world came through what I could find online. And when I was a kid, that looked like watching Ryan Higa, Kev Jumba, and Freddie Wong. I would watch these Asian guys make videos, and it felt so much closer to me than TV or movies — maybe because of the budget or because they looked kinda like me — but I would go out and try to replicate their videos with my friends and my younger brother. It felt so natural and so fun. Then I got into making my own little shorts after school, and it sort of evolved from there.

Q: Your videos have a nostalgic quality that feels intentional yet playful. How do you decide which references to include so they feel meaningful rather than purely decorative?

A: I think the most dominant nostalgic quality is naturally the camcorder. I shot the first video on the channel mixing both a DSLR camera and my buddy Logan’s camcorder. After watching it back, I realized I liked the camcorder more than the polished “nicer” image. The whole thing made more sense if it was solely experienced through a kind of grimy image that you can only get with a cheaper camera. It also gives me more room to hide cuts when editing, to be less of a presence on the street, etc. When it comes to other style decisions that pull on nostalgia, I just think about whether or not it adds anything to the video. These are not festival films; they go up on YouTube. If I think it’s funny or visually interesting, why not throw it in? As long as it doesn’t take away from the story, it can’t hurt to add some sparkles.

Q: Much of your work carries a strong emotional current, with anxiety and abandonment often placed in juxtaposition with comedy and satire. How do you navigate that tension, and what draws you to exploring such vulnerable emotions through humor?

A: I always really admired YouTube channels where the whole appeal was someone’s life. Vlogging was always such a cool thing in my eyes — and still is. I really wanted to do something where I could show myself and my life and struggles, but because I’m boring in front of a camera and eager to exercise my filmmaking hands, it made sense to blend the two. Instead of just talking at a camera as my real self, I open up about how I feel on these topics through a fictional version of myself who can’t catch a break. The comedy aspect grew from making a short film called Airhead in college. Up until that point, I didn’t think I could make anything remotely funny. But I put this goofy short together for a class assignment without much thought and realized I loved it more than anything I had made before. It would also feel unnatural, to who I am, to talk about emotionally charged topics like abandonment and not add some levity with a few jokes. Q: Based on our previous conversation, improvisation plays a significant role in your videos. How do you find the balance between improvisation and structure in your creative process?

A: Balancing, in all aspects of my life, is still a work in progress. Part of why the upload rate is an average of four months is because I like letting the talks I have with strangers guide the story in some way. It feels incredibly organic that way, but also means that the speed of production depends a bit on the quality of the conversations. Regardless, some things usually remain fixed, like what I’m struggling with in that episode and what inciting incident kicked off my journey.

Q: Do you see your videos as a dialogue with yourself, your audience, or both?

A: People watching and thinking about how they might feel is a huge part of it. The comments I get on the videos are inconceivably kind and vulnerable, almost intimidating in their support. I’ll get direct messages of people sharing how these videos have touched them, and it melts me inside. With that said, I try hard to focus on what I personally think is cool or works story-wise. I can’t truly predict how people might react, but if I like a creative choice, there must be some small cohort of people out there who might like that too. I'm also just lucky enough to have friends around that add to that dialogue. I think these videos would be missing a lot without the talented people around me - Ronan Sidoti, John Frazier, Tim Nguyen, Logan Lindey. I'm missing some names here but some of my favorite bits to come out of these videos happened as a result of a shared dialogue. Trying to make each other laugh, brainstorming narrative turns, lending camcorders, lending family members for scenes, filming on rainy days. Shout-out to the creative family around me. And shout-out to the New Yorkers kind enough to talk to me.

 Q: Looking ahead, what upcoming project are you excited about, and can you give us a little teaser?

A: This new episode is about dwelling on the past and my struggles with escapism. I walk around NYC in a shiny suit of knight’s armor, trying to let go of a memory that haunts me while also looking for a job. The whole thing feels much closer to what I envision these videos to be, so I’m excited for it to be out and to be seen.

Tilek All Better’s work reminds us that humor and vulnerability aren’t opposites — they’re companions in the search for understanding. Whether through his unscripted conversations in Street Therapy or his short films that blend emotion with digital experimentation, Tilek creates spaces where honesty feels effortless and connection feels real.

As he looks toward his next project, one thing remains clear: his creative vision continues to thrive in that rare space where wit meets sincerity, leaving viewers both entertained and quietly moved.

To explore more of Tilek All Better’s work, visit and subscribe to his YouTube channel, Tilek All Better.