Sebastian Chacon is a dynamic actor and entrepreneur from New York City, deeply passionate about celebrating and promoting his Latino heritage. In his career, he has consistently sought to bring authenticity to his roles, exemplified by his portrayal of Warren Rojas in Daisy Jones and the Six. By advocating for a Latino identity for his character, including suggesting a name change and incorporating cultural elements into his character’s style and music, Chacon demonstrated his commitment to representation.
In addition to his acting and business pursuits, Chacon co-founded Bravado Pictures, a production company he runs with his brothers. Their first project, Hermanos, a film about an Ecuadorian family in Brooklyn, highlights Chacon’s dedication to producing content that reflects his cultural identity. The company aims to tell stories that have been underrepresented, giving a voice to stories of the Latino experience.
Chacon also co-hosts NO PARKING, a podcast recorded in his Bushwick garage with his brother Kevin. The podcast captures the raw, chaotic energy of New York and provides an unfiltered look at life in the city. With his diverse creative endeavors, Chacon continues to use his platform to champion his culture, inspire others, and create meaningful, authentic content.
What motivated you to co-found Bravado Pictures, and why was now the right time to step into producing films?
Honestlty, it was always something that I wanted to do. As an actor, you’re constantly in someone else’s world, reading their lines, telling their story. I really leaned into that over the years, kind of celebrating my “I’m just an actor” bit. There comes a point where you feel this itch though—you want to build something of your own. I’d had this story, Hermanos, floating around in my head for years, and I kept thinking, “If I don’t make this, who will?” Co-founding Bravado Pictures was about taking that leap. I knew I didn’t want to keep relying on traditional gatekeepers to greenlight the kind of projects I believe in. I wanted to create a home for stories like mine.
What was the spark that led to Hermanos, and why was it the right story to launch Bravado Pictures with?
Hermanos is deeply personal. It’s based on something that happened to a family friend—a hate crime that changed the course of their lives. I fictionalized a lot out of respect, but the emotions are all real. It’s about two brothers in Brooklyn trying to hold their family together through grief, rage, and survivor’s guilt. When we sat down and talked about what Bravado Pictures should be, I knew this had to be the first story. It says everything about our mission. We’re not just out to entertain—we want to make people feel seen, even when the world doesn’t always look back.
What were some challenges you faced bringing Hermanos to life, especially as a first-time producer?
Oh man—everything! I mean, I really didn’t want to ask anyone permission, so we committed early on to funding the project and putting it all together ourselves. A lot of execs want something “relatable”—which, let’s be honest, means something they’ve seen before. And Hermanos isn’t that. It’s loud, specific, complicated. Finding the right collaborators was key—people who didn’t flinch when I brought up the subject matter. Fortunately, I have some really great friends who are always down for the journey. Then there’s logistics, budgets, locations. But weirdly, those were the easy parts. The hard part was holding onto the emotional honesty of it all. That was non-negotiable.
How do your experiences as an actor influence the way you approach film production and storytelling?
I think being an actor gives you a gut sense for what feels true and what doesn’t. You spend your life dissecting characters—what they want, what scares them, how they move through the world. When you shift into producing, you’re zooming out to think about story on a macro level, but that emotional radar never leaves you. It also makes you hyper-aware of the conditions actors need to thrive—feeling safe, feeling heard. As a writer, I like to leave things a little vague to give the actors space to flex their creativity. So when I’m producing, I try to create that environment. It’s like, if you trust the people you cast, give them the room to surprise you.
What does representation mean to you when it comes to filmmaking, and how is Bravado Pictures helping move the needle?
Representation isn’t just about casting—it’s about authorship. Who’s writing the script? Who’s behind the camera? Who’s making decisions in the edit bay? That’s where it starts. At Bravado, we’re building from the inside out. We hire people who know the culture, not because it checks a box, but because they bring nuance that no outsider could fake. I don’t want to see more Latinos in Hollywood just for show. I want to see stories that speak to our actual lives—the weirdness, the complexity, the pride, the contradictions. We’re not a monolith. We’re a multiverse.
How do you balance your commitment to telling culturally grounded stories with making work that appeals to broader audiences?
It’s funny—people assume those are at odds, but they’re not. The more specific you are, the more universal it becomes. It’s a paradox, but it’s true. Hermanos is about an Ecuadorian family, sure, but it’s also about brothers, grief, masculinity, love. That’s human stuff. If we focus on authenticity instead of broad strokes, people connect. I don’t ever go into a project thinking, “How do I make this palatable?” I think, “How do I make this real?” The audience will meet you there. And if they don’t? That’s okay. We’re not making work for everyone—we’re making it for the people who’ve been waiting.
What’s something you’ve learned about yourself during this process of making your first film?
That I can do hard things. No, seriously—I’ve always leaned into collaboration, but producing forced me to take ownership in a new way. It’s easy to point fingers or say, “Well, I’m just the actor,” when something goes wrong. When you’re the producer, there’s no one else. If something breaks, it’s your job to fix it. That was daunting, but also empowering. I learned to trust my gut more. I learned that asking for help isn’t weakness. And I learned that if something really matters to you, you’ll find a way—even if you’re figuring it out as you go.
What kind of stories do you hope to tell next through Bravado Pictures?
We’ve got scripts in development that explore everything from sci-fi to comedy to experimental stuff. One project I’ve been working on for a while is about a no sabo kid in New York who is informed that they are the beneficiary of a sizable inheritance, but has to fly to South America and reconnect with their roots and navigate the bureaucratic, corrupt legal system (and the mob’s influence) in order to not get swindled (or worse). I want to explore stories beyond New York, stories that reflect different regions and identities within our communities, especially the messy parts. There’s so much untapped talent and history to draw from. We’re just scratching the surface.
If you could say something to young Latino creatives out there who dream of writing or producing their own films, what would it be?
Start now. Don’t wait for the perfect moment or the perfect funding. Use what you have—your voice, your phone, your block, your friends. Write the story only you can tell. And don’t let anyone make you feel like it’s too niche, too loud, too soft, too anything. That’s your power. Surround yourself with people who believe in you, and if you can’t find them, be the first. I promise you, the work you do matters. Even if it takes years, even if no one claps right away. You’re building something. Keep going.