David Martinez' 'Rally Kats' Documentary Captures the American Dream

David Martinez views documentary filmmaking as less about capturing spectacle and more about spending time. Time to listen, to observe, and to understand what motivates people who commit themselves fully to a way of life. His films are rooted in curiosity and restraint, allowing stories to unfold naturally rather than forcing them into a predetermined shape. Whether working with still images or motion, David approaches each project with an eye for simplicity, atmosphere, and the quiet details that reveal character.

That approach continues in Rally Kats, David’s latest documentary, which follows Kat and Kiyo, a Japanese couple living in the United States, during a cross-country motorcycle rally that spans thousands of miles and weeks on the road. While the rally itself provides the physical framework of the film, Rally Kats is ultimately a portrait of identity, optimism, and belonging. Shot across back roads, mountain passes, and small towns, the film uses the vast American landscape as a backdrop for a deeply personal immigrant story. We spoke with David about how the project came together, the realities of filming on the road with a tiny crew, and why the rally became a setting rather than the subject.

Rally Kats has been selected for the PDX Motorcycle Film Festival, along with David's other documentary, 'Slowly Going Faster'!

How did you first meet Kat and Kiyo, and what initially drew you to their story?

I met them at the Bonneville Salt Flats Raceway this past summer. They were familiar with the work I’d been doing with Alp Sungurtekin and invited me to come along on this cross-country rally to document it. At first, it was just about seeing if the rally itself could be interesting. But the more time I spent with them, the more compelling they became as people.

What really stood out was their fascination with American culture and their optimism about what the United States represents. They both maintain a strong connection to their Japanese identity, but they also consider the U.S. their home. Especially right now, it felt refreshing to hear a story that focused on possibility and self-expression rather than cynicism.

What role does the rally play in the film?

If I wanted to make a rally film, I would have focused on multiple riders and made it about the event itself. But that wasn’t the goal. For me, the rally is more of a backdrop. It allowed us to show the scale and diversity of the country, which visually mirrors their journey to the United States and the life they’ve built here.

The rally gave us access to incredible landscapes and long stretches of time together, but the heart of the film is really about who Kat and Kiyo are, not the mechanics of the rally.

How did the rally shape the production?

Ideally, I would have been with them for all sixteen days, but I was only able to join for seven. I met up with them in Durango, Colorado, and stayed with them until the finish in Florence, Oregon. For the beginning of the rally, a journalist from Japan, Kazu Matsumoto, helped by filming some footage we knew we’d need. He did a great job capturing video that helped bridge that gap.

Even during the time I was with them, they weren’t riding every day. There were breakdowns, delays, and long stretches of waiting. But in a way, that became part of the story too.

What was the pace of the rally like?

Their average speed over about 4,000 miles was roughly 30 miles per hour. These aren’t interstates; they’re back roads, planned intentionally to avoid highways. There was one day when Kiyo rode 360 miles on Kat’s bike, which is very small and not built for speed. He was on that bike for about 13 hours, going uphill at 20 miles per hour and maybe hitting 35 or 40 on the downhill. It was physically demanding in ways that don’t immediately register when you hear “motorcycle rally.”

You worked with a very minimal crew. What did that look like day to day?

Most of the time, it was just me. The plan was for me and one other person to be in the chase van while Kat and Kiyo rode, but mechanical issues meant we were often all crammed into the van with two motorcycles, equipment, luggage, and gas fumes. I’d be shooting out of the back or side of the van, or racing ahead to set up shots and wait for them to pass.

The days were long. We worked from sunrise to sunset, following the rally schedule. It was physically exhausting and logistically messy, but that intimacy also meant I was fully immersed in their world.

How did you shape the story editorially?

A lot of the story came together while we were on the road. Kat and Kiyo would tell me things while we were driving, but it was too noisy to record clean audio. I kept notes of what resonated, and once we were back, I filmed interviews where they revisited those moments.

In a way, I was discovering the story as I lived it with them. I had only met them once before, and suddenly I was spending a week embedded in their daily rhythm. That experience informed how the film ultimately took shape.

What do you hope audiences take away from Rally Kats?

I hope it reaches beyond the motorcycle world. The rally and the bikes are important, but they’re not the main point. At its core, this is a story about commitment, optimism, and finding a place where you can fully express who you are. I think that’s something a lot of people can connect to, regardless of whether they care about motorcycles or not.