by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Masters of the Universe: Reforging a Legend for a New Generation
Masters of the Universe (2026) arrives as one of the most ambitious fantasy blockbusters of the decade, revitalising a franchise that has lived in global pop culture for over forty years.
Directed by Travis Knight, the film represents a major new chapter in the Mattel cinematic universe, expanding the legacy of the original 1980s toys and animated series while reimagining the mythology for a contemporary audience. Its significance lies not only in its scale and worldbuilding but in its long, turbulent development history: after the cancellation of a sequel to the 1987 film, the project passed through multiple studios, writers, and directors before finally landing at Amazon MGM Studios in 2024, where Knight took over, and the film solidified into its current form.
The screenplay is credited to Chris Butler, Aaron Nee, Adam Nee, and David Callaham, with the story shaped by the Nee Brothers alongside Alex Litvak and Michael Finch. Drawing direct inspiration from the Masters of the Universe media franchise created by Mattel, the film honours the classic sword‑and‑sorcery aesthetic while deepening the emotional and thematic stakes for modern viewers.
At the centre of the story is Prince Adam, played by Nicholas Galitzine, who returns to his home planet, Eternia, after years of separation. Guided by the legendary Sword of Power, Adam discovers that Eternia has been devastated and now lies under the tyrannical rule of the warlord‑sorcerer Skeletor, portrayed by Jared Leto. The film follows Adam’s transformation into He‑Man, the mythical warrior of immense strength, as he embraces his destiny to reclaim his kingdom and protect the universe from Skeletor’s expanding darkness. This journey is both epic and intimate: a young man confronting the ruins of his past, rediscovering his identity, and stepping into a power he once feared he might never wield.
The supporting cast brings the iconic characters of Eternia vividly to life. Camila Mendes stars as Teela, Adam’s fiercely loyal ally and Captain of the Guards, while Alison Brie appears as the enigmatic sorceress Evil‑Lyn. Idris Elba plays Duncan, a seasoned warrior and mentor figure, and James Purefoy embodies King Randor, Adam’s father. The ensemble also includes Morena Baccarin as The Sorceress, Kristen Wiig as the voice of Roboto, and Jóhannes Haukur Jóhannesson as Fisto, rounding out a cast designed to appeal to both long‑time fans and new audiences.
The film’s premise blends classic hero’s‑journey storytelling with high‑fantasy spectacle: after fifteen years away, Adam is drawn back to Eternia by the Sword of Power, only to find his world shattered and his people oppressed. To save them, he must reclaim his birthright, unite old allies, and confront Skeletor in a battle that spans planets and dimensions. The narrative honours the franchise’s roots while elevating its emotional core — the struggle between destiny and choice, power and responsibility, legacy and identity.
With its sweeping mythology, star‑studded cast, and renewed creative vision, Masters of the Universe positions itself as a defining fantasy event of 2026, promising both nostalgia and reinvention for a new generation.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Scary Movie: The return of a cult comedy phenomenon
Scary Movie (2026) marks one of the most significant comedy‑horror revivals of the decade, reuniting the Wayans family with the franchise they originally launched and redefining the parody genre for a new generation.
Directed by Michael Tiddes, the film brings back the creative voices that shaped the first two Scary Movie films, with the screenplay written by Marlon Wayans, Shawn Wayans, Keenen Ivory Wayans, Craig Wayans, and Rick Alvarez .
This return is culturally meaningful: the Wayans brothers departed the franchise after Scary Movie 2 due to creative conflicts, and their comeback after more than two decades signals a restoration of the series’ original comedic DNA. The film is positioned as both the sixth instalment and a “spiritual sequel” to the first two films, reconnecting with the tone, characters, and irreverent humour that made the franchise a global hit in the early 2000s.
The inspiration for the 2026 revival stems from the enduring popularity of the original films and the resurgence of slasher and supernatural horror in contemporary cinema. With horror franchises like Scream, Halloween, and The Conjuring dominating the cultural landscape, the Wayans family saw an opportunity to return to the genre they once helped define—this time parodying a new generation of horror tropes while revisiting the iconic characters audiences still quote today. The film also capitalises on nostalgia, bringing back the core ensemble whose chemistry shaped the franchise’s identity.
The story follows Cindy Campbell (played once again by Anna Faris) and her chaotic circle of friends—Brenda Meeks (Regina Hall), Ray Wilkins (Shawn Wayans), and Shorty Meeks (Marlon Wayans)—as they reunite when the masked killer they encountered twenty‑six years earlier resurfaces, triggering a new wave of absurd mayhem and genre‑bending terror . The premise blends slasher parody with supernatural and monster‑movie send‑ups, echoing the franchise’s signature style of stitching together multiple horror influences into one escalating comic disaster.
The returning cast is a major part of the film’s appeal. Alongside Faris, Hall, Shawn Wayans, and Marlon Wayans, the ensemble includes Cheri Oteri as reporter Gail Hailstorm, Chris Elliott as the unsettling but hilarious Hanson, Dave Sheridan as the dim‑witted Deputy Doofy, and Lochlyn Munro as Greg Phillippe . Newer cast members include Damon Wayans Jr., Sydney Park, Heidi Gardner, Olivia Rose Keegan, and Ruby Snowber, expanding the comedic landscape while maintaining continuity with the original films . The film also features Jon Abrahams reprising his role as Bobby Prinze and Anthony Anderson, who previously appeared in Scary Movie 3 and 4, further strengthening the franchise’s legacy connections .
Scary Movie positions itself as both a nostalgic homecoming and a fresh comedic reset for the franchise. By restoring the Wayans’ creative leadership and reuniting the beloved cast, the film aims to recapture the anarchic, fearless humour that made the original movies cultural touchstones—while parodying the horror landscape of today with the same sharp, outrageous energy that defined the series from the start.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Power Ballad: A Musical Comedy About Fame, Friendship, and Second Chances
Power Ballad (2026) stands out as one of the most anticipated musical‑comedy dramas of its year, marking another major creative milestone for filmmaker John Carney, who both directed and co‑wrote the film with Peter McDonald. Carney, known for Once and Sing Street, continues his signature exploration of music as emotional storytelling, blending humour, heartache, and melody into a narrative that resonates across generations.
The film’s significance lies in its return to Carney’s strengths: intimate character work, grounded musicality, and stories about artists navigating the messy terrain between ambition and authenticity.
The inspiration for Power Ballad is rooted in Carney’s ongoing fascination with the transformative power of music and the emotional lives of everyday performers. The film centres on the tension between artistic integrity and commercial success—an idea Carney has explored throughout his career. This time, he frames the story through the lens of two men at very different stages of their musical journeys: one a washed‑up wedding singer, the other a fading boy‑band star. Their unexpected connection becomes the catalyst for a story about pride, reinvention, and the complicated dynamics of creative collaboration.
The film follows Rick Power, played by Paul Rudd, a once‑promising musician now reduced to performing at weddings. His life takes a sharp turn when he meets Danny Wilson, portrayed by Nick Jonas, a former boy‑band sensation whose fame has long since dimmed. After a spontaneous late‑night jam session, Danny steals one of Rick’s original songs and turns it into a chart‑topping hit—an act that reignites his career while leaving Rick furious and determined to reclaim the recognition he deserves. This betrayal sets the stage for a comedic yet emotionally charged journey as Rick confronts Danny, forcing both men to reckon with their past choices, their egos, and the true meaning of artistic ownership.
The supporting cast enriches the film’s emotional and comedic texture. Havana Rose Liu appears as Marcia, Jack Reynor as Mac, Peter McDonald as Sandy, and Marcella Plunkett as Rachel, each contributing to the film’s blend of humour, tension, and heartfelt connection. The ensemble helps ground the story in a world where music becomes both a battleground and a bridge—an arena for conflict, reconciliation, and unexpected friendship.
With its blend of sharp writing, charismatic performances, and Carney’s signature musical storytelling, Power Ballad positions itself as a standout film of 2026. Early reviews praise its emotional sincerity, strong performances—particularly from Rudd and Jonas—and its ability to balance comedy with genuine dramatic stakes. As a story about pride, creativity, and the healing power of music, Power Ballad promises to resonate with audiences who appreciate heartfelt, character‑driven musical cinema.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Disclosure Day: Steven Spielberg’s Return to Spectacle and Mystery
Disclosure Day (2026) emerges as one of the most significant cinematic events of the decade, marking Steven Spielberg’s return to large‑scale science‑fiction storytelling after years of more intimate, personal films.
The project is culturally and historically notable: Spielberg is the top‑grossing director of all time and the filmmaker behind Close Encounters of the Third Kind, E.T., Jurassic Park, and War of the Worlds—works that shaped the modern language of sci‑fi cinema. Disclosure Day is built on an original story by Spielberg and written by long‑time collaborator David Koepp, whose previous scripts for Spielberg include Jurassic Park, The Lost World, War of the Worlds, and Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull . This reunion alone positions the film as a major creative milestone, reconnecting two of Hollywood’s most influential storytellers.
The film’s inspiration stems from Spielberg’s lifelong fascination with UFO mythology and humanity’s relationship to the unknown. Reports in April 2024 confirmed that his next project would be a UFO‑themed film based on his own idea, with Koepp attached to write the screenplay . This thematic return to extraterrestrial mystery echoes the spirit of Close Encounters, but with a contemporary lens shaped by modern anxieties around surveillance, whistleblowing, and global information control. Universal Pictures joined the project shortly thereafter, and casting began, with Emily Blunt confirmed as the lead in August 2024 .
The story centres on Margaret Fairchild, played by Emily Blunt, a Kansas City meteorologist and former journalist who becomes entangled in a world‑shifting revelation about extraterrestrial contact. Opposite her is Josh O’Connor as Daniel Kellner, a young cybersecurity expert and whistleblower whose discovery threatens powerful institutions. Colin Firth appears as Noah Scanlon, the head of the Wardex corporation, while Eve Hewson plays Jane Blankenship, Daniel’s girlfriend, and Colman Domingo portrays Hugo Wakefield, a Wardex defector advocating for disclosure . The ensemble also includes Wyatt Russell, Elizabeth Marvel, Henry Lloyd‑Hughes, Michael Gaston, Elliot Villar, and others, forming a cast that blends prestige drama with blockbuster scale.
Set against a backdrop of secrecy, government pressure, and global uncertainty, Disclosure Day follows Margaret and Daniel as they uncover evidence that humanity is not alone—and that the truth has been hidden for decades. Their journey pulls them into a dangerous collision with corporate power, political agendas, and the moral weight of revealing information that could reshape the world. The film positions its characters at the intersection of personal responsibility and global consequence, exploring how ordinary people respond when confronted with extraordinary truth.
Disclosure Day is produced by Kristie Macosko Krieger and Spielberg for Amblin Entertainment, with music by John Williams, cinematography by Janusz Kamiński, and editing by Sarah Broshar and Michael Kahn—a creative team that has defined Spielberg’s modern era . With its blend of mystery, spectacle, and human drama, the film promises to be a defining cinematic moment, reaffirming Spielberg’s unmatched ability to turn awe into storytelling.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Toy Story 5: The Next Chapter in Pixar’s Most Beloved Franchise
Toy Story 5 (2026) stands as one of the most significant animated releases of the decade, marking the return of Pixar’s flagship franchise and continuing a cinematic legacy that has shaped generations of audiences.
As the fifth main instalment in the Toy Story series, the film carries the weight of nearly three decades of storytelling innovation, emotional resonance, and technological advancement. Directed by Andrew Stanton and co‑written by Stanton and Kenna Harris, the film represents a major creative shift: it is the first main Toy Story film produced without the involvement of franchise co‑creator John Lasseter, who departed Pixar in 2018. This transition underscores the film’s importance as both a continuation and a reinvention of the series’ identity, guided by new creative leadership while honouring its foundational spirit.
The inspiration for Toy Story 5 emerges from the evolving relationship between children and their toys in an age increasingly dominated by technology. Pixar positions the film as “Toy meets Tech,” exploring how Woody, Buzz, Jessie, and the rest of the gang confront a new kind of threat: the rise of electronic devices that compete for children’s attention. This thematic direction reflects contemporary anxieties about digital childhoods while staying true to the franchise’s core themes of loyalty, belonging, and the emotional lives of toys. Development of the film was confirmed in 2023, with longtime voice actors Tom Hanks and Tim Allen returning to reprise their iconic roles. Stanton was officially announced as director in June 2024, and later confirmed as co‑writer.
The story picks up after the events of Toy Story 4, in which Woody parted ways with Bonnie to help abandoned toys find new owners. In Toy Story 5, Jessie (voiced by Joan Cusack) becomes the leader of Bonnie’s room, with Buzz Lightyear (Tim Allen) serving as her second‑in‑command. Their stability is disrupted when Bonnie, now eight years old, becomes obsessed with a new favourite toy: Lilypad, a frog‑like electronic tablet voiced by Greta Lee. This new device challenges the traditional toys’ purpose and place in Bonnie’s life, sparking a fresh conflict that blends humour, heart, and the franchise’s signature emotional depth.
The returning voice cast includes Tom Hanks as Woody, Tim Allen as Buzz, Joan Cusack as Jessie, Annie Potts as Bo Peep, Wallace Shawn as Rex, John Ratzenberger as Hamm, Blake Clark as Slinky Dog, Bonnie Hunt as Dolly, Kristen Schaal as Trixie, Tony Hale as Forky, and Keanu Reeves as Duke Caboom. They are joined by new cast members such as Conan O’Brien, Craig Robinson, Shelby Rabara, Scarlett Spears, Mykal‑Michelle Harris, Matty Matheson, Jeff Bergman, Anna Vocino, John Hopkins, and Ernie Hudson, expanding the ensemble with fresh comedic and dramatic voices.
Toy Story 5 promises to blend nostalgia with contemporary storytelling, exploring how toys navigate a world transformed by technology. With Stanton’s direction, a star‑studded cast, and Pixar’s continued commitment to emotional storytelling, the film positions itself as a defining cinematic event—one that honours the past while boldly stepping into the future of the franchise.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on The Death of Robin Hood: A Dark Reimagining of a Legendary Outlaw
The Death of Robin Hood (2026) arrives as one of the most striking reinterpretations of the Robin Hood myth in modern cinema, offering a darker, more introspective vision of the iconic outlaw.
Written and directed by Michael Sarnoski, the film marks a bold departure from the swashbuckling, heroic portrayals that have defined Robin Hood for decades. Instead, Sarnoski—known for Pig and A Quiet Place: Day One—crafts a grounded, visceral character study that reframes the legend through the lens of regret, mortality, and the possibility of redemption.
The film’s significance lies in this tonal shift: rather than celebrating the outlaw as a folk hero, it confronts the emotional and moral cost of a life defined by violence. This approach positions the film as a major new entry in the ongoing evolution of Robin Hood on screen, aligning it with contemporary tastes for mythic revisionism and psychologically rich storytelling.
Inspired by the 17th‑century ballad Robin Hood’s Death, the film draws directly from one of the earliest and bleakest accounts of the character’s final days. This source material—far less romantic than later retellings—provides the foundation for Sarnoski’s interpretation, which explores Robin Hood not as a triumphant rebel but as an aging, battle‑worn man confronting the consequences of his past. The project was first announced in May 2024 as a “dark re‑imagining” of the legend, with Sarnoski attached as both writer and director and Hugh Jackman and Jodie Comer set to star. A24 later acquired U.S. distribution rights in a competitive bidding process, signalling strong industry confidence in the film’s artistic and commercial potential.
The story follows an older Robin Hood, played by Hugh Jackman, who is left gravely injured after what he believes will be his final battle. No longer the confident outlaw of legend, he is a man haunted by a lifetime of crime and bloodshed. Rescued by a mysterious woman—portrayed by Jodie Comer—Robin finds himself forced to confront the weight of his past and the possibility of salvation. This intimate dynamic between the two characters forms the emotional core of the film, grounding the myth in human vulnerability.
The supporting cast deepens the film’s dramatic texture. Bill Skarsgård appears as Little John, reimagined as a hardened companion shaped by years of violence. Murray Bartlett and Noah Jupe join the ensemble in key roles, contributing to the film’s blend of tension, introspection, and atmospheric world‑building. Additional cast members include Faith Delaney as Little Margaret, expanding the narrative’s emotional stakes. Filmed on location in Northern Ireland—including Belfast Harbour Studios and the landscapes of Silent Valley, Glenram, and Murlough Bay—the production embraces a rugged, naturalistic aesthetic that reinforces the film’s grounded tone.
The Death of Robin Hood positions itself as a bold, character‑driven reinvention of a timeless legend. With Sarnoski’s distinctive vision, Jackman’s transformative performance, and A24’s backing, the film promises a haunting and emotionally resonant exploration of one of folklore’s most enduring figures.
RECOMMENDED: At the centre of the not-to-be-missed Project Hail Mary is unlikely hero Ryland Grace (Ryan Gosling), a middle school science teacher who never imagined he would have to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders.
Fuze is a crime‑thriller heist film that unfolds in London after the discovery of an unexploded World War II bomb on a construction site triggers a massive evacuation.
Obsessionis a horror that follows a shy music‑store employee who uses a supernatural toy to wish that his longtime crush will love him.
Top Gun – 40th Anniversary is a special theatrical re‑release of Tony Scott’s 1986 classic to celebrate four decades of the film’s cultural impact.
Coming Up
Djarin and his apprentice Grogu are enlisted to help stabilise the galaxy after the fall of the Empire, confronting scattered Imperial in Star Wars: The Mandalorian & GroguIn cinemas 22 May
A gifted young piano tuner whose meticulous ear reveals an unexpected talent for cracking safes, pulling him into a dangerous criminal underworld in Tuner. In cinemas 22 May
A young couple’s van‑life adventure turns into a nightmare after they witness a horrific highway accident in the supernatural horror Passenger. In cinemas 22 May
Backroomsis a science‑fiction horror that pulls characters into a dimension beyond reality, a labyrinth of liminal rooms where logic breaks down and escape becomes increasingly impossible. In cinemas 29 May
JUNE FILM RELEASES
In the survival thriller Deep Water an international flight from Los Angeles to Shanghai is forced into an emergency landing in shark‑infested waters. In cinemas 29 May
In cinemas 5 June: Prince Adam returns to a shattered Eternia and must reclaim his destiny as He‑Man to stop Skeletor’s rule in Masters of the Universe, Cindy and the gang reunite when the masked killer from 26 years ago resurfaces to wreak havoc again in Scary Movie, a washed‑up wedding singer battles a fading boy‑band star after his stolen song becomes a hit in Power Ballad.
In cinemas 12 June: Spielberg turns first contact into global psychological collapse as humanity confronts undeniable proof of alien life in Disclosure Day
In cinemas 19 June: Jessie leads Bonnie’s room as the toys face a new threat from a frog‑like tablet named Lilypad in Toy Story 5 , a gravely injured, battle‑worn Robin Hood confronts his violent past while seeking salvation in The Death Of Robin Hood .
In cinemas 26 June: in Jackass 250 / Jackass: Best and Last, Knoxville and the crew return for one final round of outrageous stunts and franchise‑ending chaos, Minions & Monstershead to 1920s Hollywood to make a monster movie using real monsters, a jaded Kara Zor‑El embarks on a cosmic revenge quest with a young girl and her dog Krypto in Supergirl: Woman of Tomorrow, and in Lucky Strike, an American soldier trapped behind enemy lines during the Battle of the Bulge fights to survive and find his way home.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Jackass 250: Best and Last — The Final Ride of a Cultural Phenomenon
Jackass 250: Best and Last (2026) arrives as a landmark moment in contemporary stunt‑comedy cinema, positioned as the definitive final chapter in a franchise that has shaped pop culture for more than two decades.
Directed by Jeff Tremaine, who has helmed every Jackass film since the beginning, the project reunites the surviving core cast for one last, all‑out celebration of the anarchic spirit that made Jackass a global phenomenon.
The film is written by Jason “Wee Man” Acuña, Preston Lacy, Jeff Tremaine, and Spike Jonze, blending the creative voices who built the franchise with the performers who risked their bodies to define it.
Its significance lies not only in its status as the final instalment but in its role as a generational handoff: a farewell to the original crew and a tribute to the cultural impact of a series that redefined physical comedy, reality filmmaking, and the boundaries of what audiences expect from stunt‑driven entertainment.
The inspiration for Jackass 250 stems from the cast’s desire to close the franchise on their own terms. After the success of Jackass Forever (2022), Tremaine and the team began discussing a final film that would honour the legacy of the original MTV series while acknowledging the passage of time, the physical toll of the stunts, and the emotional bonds forged through decades of shared chaos. The title “Best and Last” reflects this intention: a culmination of everything Jackass has ever been — outrageous, painful, fearless, and strangely heartfelt — while embracing the reality that the original cast can no longer push their bodies the way they once did. The film is also inspired by the franchise’s enduring fanbase, whose loyalty has kept Jackass relevant across generations, from early‑2000s MTV viewers to today’s streaming audiences.
The story — as much as a Jackass film has one — follows Johnny Knoxville, Steve‑O, Chris Pontius, Jason “Wee Man” Acuña, Preston Lacy, Dave England, and Ehren McGhehey as they reunite for a final round of stunts, pranks, and escalating set‑pieces designed to push nostalgia and physical comedy to their limits. The film also features returning Jackass Forever cast members Jasper Dolphin, Rachel Wolfson, Zach Holmes, Eric Manaka, and Sean “Poopies” McInerney, who bring a younger energy to the ensemble and serve as the bridge between the franchise’s past and future. Together, the cast embarks on a series of elaborate, high‑concept stunts that blend classic Jackass chaos with new cinematic scale — from animal encounters and explosive contraptions to endurance challenges that test the limits of both courage and stupidity.
What sets Jackass 250 apart is its emotional undercurrent. Intercut with the stunts are reflections on aging, friendship, and the strange legacy of a group of misfits who turned pain into a global entertainment empire. Knoxville and Tremaine frame the film as both a celebration and a goodbye, acknowledging the risks that defined their careers while embracing the gratitude that comes with surviving them.
Set for release in 2026, Jackass 250: Best and Last promises to be a riotous, heartfelt farewell — a final salute to the franchise that changed comedy forever.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Minions & Monsters: Illumination’s Wild New Adventure in Old Hollywood
Minions & Monsters (2026) stands as one of Illumination’s most ambitious and stylistically playful projects to date, expanding the Despicable Me universe while venturing into a new era of genre parody and cinematic nostalgia.
Directed by Pierre Coffin, the long‑time creative voice behind the Minions, and written by Brian Lynch with Coffin also contributing to the screenplay, the film marks the third instalment in the Minions prequel series and the seventh film overall in the franchise . Its significance lies in its bold shift in setting and tone: rather than following Gru or the modern‑day antics of the Minions, the film transports audiences to 1920s Old Hollywood, where the Minions attempt to make a monster movie of their own. This premise allows Illumination to blend slapstick comedy with classic monster‑movie aesthetics, creating a hybrid of animation, farce, and affectionate homage to early cinema.
The film draws inspiration from both the Minions’ established love of chaos and the rich visual language of early Hollywood genre filmmaking. According to production details, the story is set “around 40 years before the events of Minions (2015),” placing the characters in a world of silent‑era studios, gothic sets, and practical‑effects monsters . This creative direction allows Coffin and Lynch to explore a playful “film‑within‑a‑film” structure: the Minions are not just causing trouble—they are trying to produce trouble on camera. The film was officially announced in July 2024 following the release of Despicable Me 4, with Coffin returning to direct and Lynch confirmed as screenwriter, and production led by Illumination founder Chris Meledandri alongside Bill Ryan .
The story follows the Minions as they roam 1920s Hollywood in search of real monsters to cast in their homemade creature feature. Their quest leads them into a series of escalating misadventures involving studio backlots, eccentric filmmakers, and supernatural beings. In typical Minion fashion, their enthusiasm far outweighs their competence, and their attempts to create cinematic magic accidentally unleash chaos that threatens far more than their movie set. As they partner with a mysterious green creature and inadvertently awaken ancient monsters, the Minions must scramble to fix the mess they’ve made—ultimately discovering that even the smallest, silliest characters can shape the fate of the world.
The voice cast brings together an impressive ensemble. Pierre Coffin once again voices the Minions, joined by Trey Parker as Goomi, Jesse Eisenberg, Zoey Deutch, Allison Janney, Bobby Moynihan, Phil LaMarr, Christoph Waltz (playing a film director), and Jeff Bridges (as the head of a Hollywood studio) . This blend of comedic and dramatic talent gives the film a lively tonal range, balancing slapstick with character‑driven humour.
Set to premiere at the Annecy International Animation Film Festival on June 21, 2026, before its U.S. theatrical release on July 1, 2026, Minions & Monsters positions itself as a vibrant, genre‑bending entry in the franchise—one that celebrates cinema history while delivering the chaotic, joyful energy audiences expect from the Minions.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Supergirl: Woman of Tomorrow — A Fierce New Vision for the Girl of Steel
Supergirl: Woman of Tomorrow (2026) arrives as one of the most significant and defining films of the new DC Universe, marking a bold tonal and thematic shift from previous on‑screen portrayals of Krypton’s most famous heroine.
Directed by Craig Gillespie and written by Ana Nogueira, the film is positioned as the second entry in James Gunn and Peter Safran’s reimagined DCU, following Superman (2025). Its significance lies in its reinvention of Supergirl as a hardened survivor rather than an idealistic counterpart to Superman. This version of Kara Zor‑El is shaped by trauma, loss, and the harsh realities of growing up on a fragment of a dying world — a stark contrast to Clark Kent’s Earth‑raised optimism. The film adapts the acclaimed 2021–22 comic miniseries Supergirl: Woman of Tomorrow by Tom King and Bilquis Evely, a story praised for its operatic scale, emotional depth, and revisionist approach to the character’s mythology.
The inspiration for the film is rooted directly in that comic series, which reframed Supergirl as a wandering, battle‑scarred warrior navigating the galaxy in search of meaning. Gunn and Gillespie have both described this Supergirl as an antihero, “pixie‑ish but very attitudinal,” shaped by witnessing the death of everyone she ever knew. This darker, more complex interpretation aligns with the DCU’s Chapter One theme — Gods and Monsters — and signals a deliberate move away from the lighter tone of earlier Supergirl adaptations. The project also represents a major creative milestone for DC Studios, as it is the first standalone Supergirl film developed entirely under Gunn and Safran’s leadership after earlier DCEU plans were abandoned.
The story follows Kara Zor‑El, played by Milly Alcock, who celebrates her 23rd birthday by travelling across the galaxy with her loyal dog Krypto. Along the way, she encounters Ruthye Marye Knoll (portrayed by Eve Ridley), a young girl whose father has been murdered. This tragedy propels Kara into a cosmic revenge quest, forcing her to confront brutal adversaries and the moral ambiguity of vengeance. The film’s narrative blends space‑western grit with mythic sci‑fi, positioning Kara as a warrior navigating lawless planets, corrupt warlords, and ancient cosmic threats.
The supporting cast brings depth and gravitas to the film’s emotional landscape. Matthias Schoenaerts stars as Krem of the Yellow Hills, the antagonist whose actions ignite Kara’s journey. David Krumholtz appears as Zor‑El, Kara’s father, while Emily Beecham plays Alura In‑Ze, her mother. Jason Momoa joins the cast as Lobo, marking his return to DC in a new role after previously portraying Aquaman. Additional cast members include David Corenswet as Kal‑El/Superman, Ferdinand Kingsley as Elias Knoll, and Diarmaid Murtagh as Drom Baxton, expanding the film’s interstellar world.
Supergirl: Woman of Tomorrow is set for release on June 26, 2026, distributed by Warner Bros. Pictures. As a fierce, emotionally charged reinvention of the character, the film promises to redefine Supergirl for a new generation — not as a symbol of innocence, but as a survivor forged in fire, carving her own path across the stars.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Lucky Strike: A Gritty Survival Thriller Set in the Heart of War
Lucky Strike (2026) positions itself as one of the most intense and character‑driven war thrillers of its release year, offering a grounded, claustrophobic portrait of survival during one of World War II’s most brutal campaigns.
Directed by Rod Lurie, known for The Outpost and The Contender, the film continues his commitment to emotionally charged, soldier‑focused storytelling. Lurie also co‑wrote the screenplay with Marc Frydman, whose work contributes to the film’s blend of tension, tactical realism, and human vulnerability. The film’s significance lies in its stripped‑down approach: rather than depicting large‑scale battles, Lucky Strike narrows its focus to a single soldier’s desperate attempt to survive behind enemy lines, turning the Battle of the Bulge into an intimate psychological crucible.
The inspiration for Lucky Strike stems from real accounts of isolated soldiers during the Ardennes Offensive, where communication failures, harsh winter conditions, and shifting front lines left many stranded and cut off from their units. This historical backdrop informs the film’s central premise: a lone American soldier forced to rely on ingenuity, limited resources, and a fragile radio connection to stay alive. According to production details, the story centres on a U.S. soldier trapped behind German lines who must use a Motorola SCR‑300 radio—one of the earliest backpack walkie‑talkies—to evade advancing Panzer forces and navigate his way back to safety. This blend of historical authenticity and high‑stakes suspense gives the film a distinctive edge within the modern war‑film landscape.
The narrative follows Colin Hanks as the injured American soldier struggling to survive in hostile territory. His performance anchors the film’s emotional core, portraying a man caught between duty, fear, and the will to endure. Scott Eastwood appears in a major role, bringing intensity and physical presence to the ensemble, while Aunjanue Ellis‑Taylor adds dramatic weight in a key supporting performance. The cast also includes Taylor John Smith, Lorne MacFadyen, Patrick Millin, Daniel Ray Rodriguez, and Caroline Piette, each contributing to the film’s textured depiction of soldiers, civilians, and enemy forces encountered along the way.
As the soldier attempts to navigate the frozen forests and shifting battle lines of the Ardennes, the film builds tension through radio transmissions, near‑miss encounters, and the constant threat of discovery. The SCR‑300 radio becomes both lifeline and burden—his only connection to Allied forces but also a device that could expose his position. This dynamic transforms the film into a survival thriller as much as a war drama, emphasizing psychological endurance over spectacle.
With its focus on human resilience, tactical suspense, and the moral complexities of wartime survival, the film promises to stand out as a gripping, character‑driven entry in the genre. Lurie’s direction, combined with a strong ensemble cast and historically grounded tension, positions Lucky Strike as a compelling exploration of courage under impossible circumstances.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Passenger – An Unnerving Supernatural Thriller
American screenwriter Zachary Donohue and British horror writer T.W. Burgess were longtime fans of each other’s work. The two connected via countless Zooms and just found themselves talking horror in every conversation. Those chats eventually led them to discover they each had their own idea for a haunted road movie, and the writers decided to combine efforts and create one together.
Burgess had a strong following as an accomplished author of graphic novels, comics and stories (“Malevolents,” “Early Haunts”) and Donohue had crafted the 2013 horror title, The Den, among others.
“We had a mutual affinity for each other’s work,” Donohue states. “Plus, Thom is from England, so stories of hauntings are in his genes.”
The trope of the haunted highway exists around the world, Burgess notes. “We both had affinity for films like The Hitcher. But we began to wonder, why has no one done something which was supernatural-based?” Adds Donohue, “Usually these haunted road stories are about someone who died on that road and is now haunting it – about a specific haunted road. We wanted to make it broader, something scarier, and just demonic. Where every road is haunted, and they’ve always been haunted.”
“We wanted to do something totally different,” Burgess says. “It’s not just a ghost of a road, but something more malevolent and more all-encompassing. So what does that look like?” They began exploring the typical things that might plague drivers, like becoming lost, losing a sense of time – even flat tires – and asking themselves, ‘What might that look like as a scare?”
Donohue states, “He’s not a creature – he doesn’t just come out and kill you. Part of his mythos is that he wants to torment you, to ride you the whole distance you can go, until you break down, literally,” often causing his victims to crash themselves into their own deaths.
At the center of the story is the young couple, Tyler and Madi. “We wanted a movie with characters you would root for, going through this journey,” Donohue explains. “Tyler has this idealized, romantic version of the American road trip, almost like a Jack Kerouac novel. He’s so ebullient and charismatic about that dream, that Madi can’t help but fall in love with it, as well.” But as the movie goes on, he says, “The reality of some of the hardships and complications that come with living on the road – including the dangers of living on the road – car crashes, sleeping in parking lots at night – she starts to realize, ‘Maybe this isn’t the life for me. But I love this guy so much.’ It’s really a movie about the two of them advocating for what they want, but also trying to figure out if what the want is with each other.”
Lou Llobell as “Maddie” and Jacob Scipio as “Tyler” in Passenger from Paramount Pictures.
Burgess and Donohue sent a “pitch deck” (a step prior to creation of a screenplay) to horror producer Gary Dauberman, p.g.a. at Coin Operated
“Zach and Thom and have a knack for coming up with immediately commercial ideas. I had been looking for ways to subvert the usual haunted house tropes and when I saw the deck and heard the pitch, I knew a ‘a haunted house on wheels’ was something I hadn’t seen before… or at least for a long time. The scare ideas just automatically started to flow. Beyond that, I also saw a lot of potential in the character of the Passenger, this demonic entity stalking the roads…” says Gary.
Enough so that Dauberman brought it to his friend and fellow veteran horror producer Walter Hamada, p.g.a., whose 18Hz Productions (named for the frequency above which only ghosts can hear) crafts cool horror titles for Paramount Pictures. “What we liked about it,” says Executive Producer Nathan Samdahl, “was wanting to do something in a subgenre of horror, which is ‘road horror.’ And also because this was something we haven’t seen very often, where instead of a real person doing the haunting, it’s a demonic entity that’s stalking the highways. We thought that combination of things was really interesting.”
“I like movies that scare me – and making movies that scare me,” Hamada states. “And the thing that scares me the most is the supernatural. Certainly anything demonic, that has religious undertones, automatically freaks me out. And this movie captures all of that.”
Like Dauberman, Hamada was taken with the writers’ thoughtful approach, of rooting the story in a believable relationship, with relatable issues any couple might have. “The scariest movies are the ones that are the most relatable, with regular people in regular situations – and then something scary thrown on top of it. That’s why we love haunted house movies. And when this idea came along, it was such a fresh spin – a haunted house movie on wheels.”
The lead characters, Madi and Tyler, and their relationship, he notes, “They really nailed. They were this relatable couple that you rooted for. And in a scary movie, you need characters that you root for. You don’t want characters that you hope will die. There is a real heart to them in their journey. And Zach and Thom had that right out of the gate.”
Regarding the scares, “They did a great job picking out the kinds of iconic road trip moments, things you take for granted – putting on a seat belt, rearview cameras, fixing a flat tire – and subverting them. Basically, what we strove for was how to ruin a road trip for people everywhere. How do we make people think twice, if they’re going to go on a road trip this summer?”
Director André Øvredal on the set of Passenger from Paramount Pictures. Photo Credit: Daniel Schaffer
Norwegian horror stylist André Øvredal’s Passenger unfolds as a lean, unnerving supernatural thriller that transforms the familiar American road trip into a corridor of escalating dread.
Ever since seeing director Andrḗ Øvredal’s horror thrillers, Troll Hunter (2011) and The Autopsy of Jane Doe (2016), Hamada had been trying to join efforts with him. “When we got the draft for this film,” he says, “André was the first guy we went to. And when he responded, we were ecstatic, because we had been tying to get to do something with him for so long. He came in immediately, totally grasped what the movie was, and had such great ideas. He took everything and took it up a notch.
“I really fell for the characters, the fact that they felt like real people with issues that were handled in a real way,” Øvredal explains. “Not a heightened level, where it’s conflict just to have conflict. But it felt like a quiet, realistic handling of their internal problems that I could relate to, directorially.” And then there’s the scares. “The horror and suspense scenes were very inspiring – the tension, the mood and the tone. The fact that we’re doing a haunted house with a moving home!” he laughs. “Just the idea of this highway myth, that can affect anybody who’s driving on American highways, how it can infiltrate their lives – and become not only an obstacle, but a symbol of the obstacles in their relationship, as well.”
The religious aspect of the story was something Øvredal also found appealing. “It’s about two people just trying to fit together, in a way, and make life work for them together. But then to have this kind of religious battle going on between St. Christopher and this demonic entity, in over their heads, is like an eternal battle. It was a really intriguing aspect to the film that was always there, but that we leaned into, as we were developing it.”
Lou Llobell as “Maddie” and Jacob Scipio as “Tyler” in Passenger from Paramount Pictures.
The idea of a horror movie based in van life was intriguing to everyone, with plenty of opportunities for great scares.
“Making a movie around van life, being out in nature and being alone on empty roads leans directly into the fear of the unseen, of the unknown of the horrors of being in darkness, like we have in this movie,” Øvredal states. Notes Executive Producer Jenny Hinkey, “When you’re out on the road, at campsites and dark roads, you don’t have that sense of security that you have when you’re in a house with walls, where there’s more predictability, and you’re walking in the same door every day, seeing the same things. There’s just an inherent instability in moving around from night to night, not knowing what’s out there in the dark and what you’re going to encounter next.”
While the idea of living out ideal moments, waking up in a different national park every day, in a life of apparent leisure might seem aspirational, Hamada says, “Who wouldn’t want to do that and leave the grind behind? And that’s Tyler and Madi at the beginning of the movie. But when you put two people in a tiny van and put them on the road, it heightens everything. Then throw in a demonic entity, and you’ve got something incredibly scary.”
While the idea of living out ideal moments, waking up in a different national park every day, in a life of apparent leisure might seem aspirational, Hamada says, “Who wouldn’t want to do that and leave the grind behind? And that’s Tyler and Madi at the beginning of the movie. But when you put two people in a tiny van and put them on the road, it heightens everything. Then throw in a demonic entity, and you’ve got something incredibly scary.”
The two first meet Diane when they come to a popular van meet, filled with everyone living those aspirational moments. But then, later, when they track Diane down at a nomad camp, they see the true reality of such a life. “You see the duality between more of these weekend van lifers, who have souped up their vans – the perfect version of what living on the road is,” Donohue explains. “But then they meet a van life establishment of people, who’ve been living on the road for a long time, some of whom maybe haven’t chosen to be there, but are there by necessity. There’s horror that’s taking place, but there’s the realization that maybe in the long haul, this romantic version of being on the road might be pretty hard to sustain.”
Over the next six months, 18Hz took the core building blocks that Donohue and Burgess had provided and crafted the script together with them. “It was an exercise of how can we amp it up? How can we make it even scarier?” says Hamada. “We had locked in the scares,” explains Donahue. “But Andre likes to ‘kick the tires’ – ‘Is this working? Is this the scariest it can be?’ Then it was about Andre telling us how he was going to shoot it. So it’s up to us to provide the linkage that coalesces with that.”.
How Zachary Donohue & T.W. Burgess Crafted the Screenplay
Donohue and Burgess built the screenplay for Passenger by fusing two complementary sensibilities: Donohue’s precision‑engineered psychological tension and Burgess’s deep grounding in folklore‑driven horror.
Their collaboration begins with a simple, brutal premise: a couple witnesses a fatal highway accident and discovers they did not leave the scene alone, and they treat that premise not as a jump‑scare engine but as a slow‑burn, dread‑accumulating structure.
The pair approached the script by asking a single guiding question: What if the open road, the symbol of freedom, became the most inescapable trap imaginable? From that question, they built a narrative architecture where geography becomes pressure, movement becomes futility, and the supernatural antagonist operates with the cold logic of inevitability rather than spectacle.
Donohue, whose work (The Den) is rooted in digital paranoia and psychological erosion, shaped the screenplay’s procedural tension, the rhythms of travel, the rituals of van‑life, and the small decisions that accumulate into catastrophe. He focused on the couple’s interiority: how fear corrodes intimacy, how exhaustion distorts perception, how being hunted turns ordinary spaces (a gas station, a rest stop, a motel) into stages of escalating threat.
Burgess, a graphic novelist and horror storyteller, brought the mythic spine: the demon’s rules, its origin, its logic, and the folkloric undertones that give the entity weight beyond a simple monster chase. His influence is felt in the screenplay’s sense of the uncanny, the idea that the stalker is not merely pursuing but claiming, that the couple has crossed into a story older than they understand.
Together, they crafted a script built on compression and escalation. The first act grounds the couple in realism, the van, the relationship, the road, before the accident ruptures the world. The second act tightens the noose: the entity appears not as a creature but as a presence, a pattern, a pressure that cannot be reasoned with. The third act becomes a test of identity and endurance, where the couple’s emotional fractures mirror the supernatural threat closing in.
Throughout, Donohue and Burgess avoid exposition; they let fear emerge from pattern recognition, from the audience noticing what the characters cannot yet articulate.
Their most important craft choice is restraint. The screenplay refuses to explain too much, show too much, or break its own rules. The demon is terrifying because it is consistent, relentless, and uninterested in theatrics.
This discipline allows André Øvredal to direct the film with the same atmospheric precision he brought to The Autopsy of Jane Doe and Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark: a horror story where the terror is not in the creature but in the inescapability of its pursuit.
In essence, Donohue and Burgess crafted Passenger as a road‑trip nightmare stripped to its essentials, a supernatural pursuit story where dread accumulates mile by mile, and where the horror is not the demon itself but the realisation that some forces, once invited, never stop moving toward you.
ZACHARY DONOHUE (WRITTEN BY) is an emerging voice in genre filmmaking who is known for crafting stories with grounded human emotion that are universally relatable and scary. Best known for his debut feature The Den (2013) — Donohue wrote and directed one of the earliest and most influential entries in the screenlife horror format — a film that earned him critical recognition and a cult following for its inventive, ahead of the time approach to digital-age fear. Most recently, Donohue co-wrote Passenger, directed by André Øvredal for Paramount Pictures.Up next is another project with Gary Dauberman’s Coin Operated for Screen Gems, Human Remains, a supernatural thriller that Donohue wrote, continuing his exploration of tension, atmosphere, and character-driven horror.
Expanding into serialized storytelling, Donohue created and produced the indie cosmic- horror/mockumentary series The Unknowable: Darkland (2026), an eight-episode miniseries (22-minute episodes) for Cineverse’s SCREAMBOX streaming platform, on which he served as Creator and Producer. Donohue’s screenplay The Becoming (co-written by Lauren Thompson) was featured on the 2015 Blood List, spotlighting the best unproduced horror and thriller scripts of the year — an early acknowledgment of his distinctive voice in genre cinema. Since then, Donohue has continued to develop a body of work that combines sharp conceptual hooks with emotional depth and cinematic tension. Over the course of his career, Donohue has collaborated with and developed material for some of the genre’s most respected creators, including Kevin Williamson, James Wan, and Nick Antosca.
T.W. BURGESS (WRITTEN BY) is a British screenwriter, author and digital artist known for his work in supernatural horror. He gained widespread recognition following the debut of his indie comic Malevolents, acclaimed by international horror Manga artist Junji Ito. His publication Early Haunts remains one of the most successful supernatural horror anthologies funded on the Kickstarter platform.
Burgess has continued to build his reputation through a range of horror IPs, including Mister Howl and Shadowbox, as well as video game projects such as Pylons. Also working with Niantic Lightship within XR gaming experiences. T.W. Burgess is represented by Adam Marshall at Entertainment 360.
ANDRÉ ØVREDAL (DIRECTOR) is a Norwegian filmmaker who most recently directed the upcoming horror-thriller PASSENGER for Paramount Pictures.
André first gained international notoriety with his critically acclaimed found-footage mockumentary, TROLLHUNTER, which premiered to rave reviews at Sundance and earned him a spot on Variety’s 10 Directors to Watch list.
André then went on to direct the seminal supernatural horror film THE AUTOPSY OF JANE DOE, starring Emile Hirsch and Brian Cox, which premiered at the Toronto International Film Festival and won the People’s Choice Award in TIFF’s Midnight Section. The film was released by IFC Midnight and Lionsgate to critical success.
Øvredal then went on to direct Guillermo del Toro’s live-action adaptation of SCARY STORIES TO TELL IN THE DARK for Lionsgate. This supernatural horror feature, based on the children’s book series of the same name, was released theatrically in 2019. A sequel is currently in development.
Øvredal then directed THE LAST VOYAGE OF THE DEMETER for Amblin and Universal, which earned praise from movie legends including Guillermo Del Toro, who called it “gorgeous, lavish, and savage,” as well as Stephen King, who wrote that it was “a throat-ripping good time, [and] reminded me of the best of the Hammer movies from the 60s and 70s.”
As an undergrad at the Brooks Institute of Photography and Motion Pictures in California, Øvredal co-directed the first feature in the history of the school. This thriller FUTURE MURDER was released as one of 80 first-time films in a special DVD series in the USA. It became the second biggest seller in the series, released in several countries, and was shown at the Santa Barbara International Film Festival. From there, Øvredal became one of Norway’s most successful directors of commercials with almost two hundred commercials in Norway and abroad before transitioning into narrative features. He has directed award winning short and feature films and has participated in the acclaimed course Method Acting for Directors held in Oslo by New York University drama teacher Marketa Kimbrell.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Obsession – A Supernatural Horror
Obsession marks one of the most striking supernatural horror films of its release year, a low‑budget, high ingenuity feature that transforms a deceptively simple premise into a psychologically charged descent into desire, consequence, and the monstrous distortions of love.
Written, directed, and edited by Curry Barker, the film represents a rare instance in contemporary horror where a single creative voice shapes the narrative, visual language, and tonal architecture with complete authorship, resulting in a work that feels both intimate and unsettlingly precise.
The impressive newcomer, writer/director Curry Barker, brings a fresh take on a modern “be careful for what you wish for” story with Obsession.
Director’s Statement
With Obsession, I wanted to tell a story about how far someone’s fixation on another person can go. At what point does something we call love stop being love? And beyond that, what does the word “love” even mean? The film opens with Bear, a young man reeling from the sudden death of his cat. Grasping for something to hold onto, he decides that tonight he’ll finally confess his feelings to his longtime crush, Nikki. But when his courage fails and he chickens out, everything shifts – because Nikki begins acting strangely, and it’s suddenly her who is showing a drastic attraction toward him. What begins as a moment of wish fulfillment quickly unravels into something darker and far more unsettling. I wanted to take a story we’ve all seen before – a wish story – and ground it in the real world, flipping it on its head to make something completely new.
I love putting ordinary people in extraordinary circumstances, but what matters just as much is that every character reacts in natural, believable ways. With Bear, I set out to create a protagonist who isn’t simply a good guy. He’s flawed, gray, capable of both vulnerability and cruelty. I didn’t want to dictate how the audience should feel or point to what’s right or wrong. Instead, my goal was to present the story honestly and let the audience wrestle with it themselves. I want people leaving the theater still talking – arguing over how they felt, what they would have done differently, and whether what they saw was love or obsession. -Curry Barker
Curry Barker first stepped into the spotlight in a comedy duo with one of his Obsession stars, Cooper Tomlinson. As ‘That’s a Bad Idea,’ the pair amassed a loyal following via sketches released on YouTube. Things started to take a different turn a few years ago courtesy of the one-two punch of The Chair and Milk & Serial. First, the Barker-directed short film, The Chair, accumulated over nine million views on YouTube. Then came Milk & Serial, the horror feature directed by and starring Barker, starring Tomlinson, that went on to become a viral sensation. The film made a big impression on Hollywood, which in turn helped Barker get his first theatrical feature off the ground – Obsession.
Obsession producer James Harris first stepped into the picture via The Chair. Harris, a prolific genre producer with titles like 47 Meters Down, The Strangers: Prey at Night and several V/H/S instalments on his filmography, was on the hunt for new voices. “I watched The Chair and was blown away by how cinematic it was.” Harris reached out to Barker and could immediately tell that he was a “hungry and mega talented” artist. “Curry is a really smart guy who gets genre. He really understood scares but also the depth that it takes in a project.”
Initially, Harris was hooked on the idea of developing a feature version of The Chair with Barker. But, when Barker suggested Obsession, Harris knew that was the one. “When I read the Obsession idea, it was just great. So smart and fits modern horror, so it was just a no brainer.”
Producer Christian Mercuri was instantly hooked as well. Not only did Mercuri find it to be a “wonderful and compelling script,” but he was also taken by the tone of the movie. “It had this unique feel of a real horror film, but with levity. And if you watched some of Curry’s early work, you sensed he could deliver it.” Barker had hoped this day would come since he was just a kid. While he made a name for himself via sketch comedy, he always knew he wanted to make movies. “At about 10 years old, I was already making and editing films because I wanted to be an actor, and the only way to act was to make things myself. Filmmaking started as a means to an end, but that’s how I discovered my love for it.”
That evolving love paved the way to Milk & Serial, Barker’s first feature, a piece about a surprise birthday prank that takes a number of wildly twisted and increasingly dark turns. Not only was the film widely embraced, but Barker also gained a considerable amount of filmmaking experience on the production that would come in handy while making Obsession. But, one especially significant takeaway? “I learned that you should just go ahead and make something, because most of the time, people are willing to help you if you’re trying to make something cool.”
Even with a background in comedy, Barker has always been drawn to the storytelling possibilities specific to the horror genre. “Horror lets you explore extreme ideas and emotions in a way that feels honest and visceral.”
In the case of Obsession, Barker wanted to use the genre as a way to explore something that impacts everyone in a variety of ways, shapes, and forms — obsession. “Whether it’s obsession with a person or anything else, that idea of being completely consumed by something has always fascinated me, and horror felt like the right genre to explore that.”
That idea further came into focus thanks to an episode of The Simpsons that inspired Barker in which Bart buys a Monkey’s Paw with the power to grant wishes and wreaks havoc around town. “That combination of obsession and a wish-based device sparked the idea for the story.”
As his first theatrical feature, leading the Obsession set was a major leap for Barker. “It’s really scary when you first get on a bigger set.” Looking back on the day before principal photography kicked off, Barker recalled, “I’m going into the house that we picked out. I’m seeing people painting the walls, people downstairs working on camera equipment, people putting wallpaper up, all these things that I was like, holy cow. They’re doing all of this for the movie.”
After embracing the awe of seeing so many artists come together to bring his vision to screen, Barker knew he was ready to go. “After I called action on the first day, did a couple takes and called cut, I very quickly realized that although this is a bigger scale, this is exactly the same thing I’ve been doing since I was 12 years old with my brothers.”
All of that experience prepared Barker for the film’s 20-day shoot and budget parameters. “I actually think working with a smaller budget can sometimes really push your creativity more.” While one might think unlimited resources is a dreamlike scenario, Barker insists, “being able to do anything that you want can actually be a little overwhelming.” He added, “Being able to only do certain things, and only afford to do certain things, actually has helped me a lot in the creative process.”
Over the years, Barker’s figured out how he likes to use the camera to amplify his narrative. “I don’t like to cut unless I have to, and I don’t like to have inserts. The only reason I would have an insert is if a character is looking at something. This whole movie is from the perspective of Bear.”
Curry Barker is a writer, director, and actor whose work has quickly made him one of the most exciting new filmmakers to emerge in recent years. His most recent feature, OBSESSION, premiered at TIFF’s Midnight Madness, where it became one of the festival’s breakout films and was acquired by Focus Features. Before OBSESSION, Curry built an audience through his original shorts online, which collectively garnered millions of views. He went on to make MILK & SERIAL, which he released on YouTube, an $800 found footage film he wrote, directed, and starred in that became a cult hit and drew widespread attention. Curry also co-created the sketch comedy brand That’s a Bad Idea with Cooper Tomlinson, which has amassed millions of followers. As an actor, he has appeared in DAVE, IT’S ALWAYS SUNNY IN PHILADELPHIA, and B-SIDE FOR TAYLOR. Up next, Curry will write, direct, and star in ANYTHING BUT GHOSTS, produced by Jason Blum, Roy Lee, and Steven Schneider.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Hit Me Hard and Soft, Billie Eilish Reimagines the Concert Film
Singer and songwriter Billie Eilish was barely a teenager when she became a global sensation with her debut single, “ocean eyes.” Her highly personal, genre-bending style established her as a worldwide superstar before she was 20 and has won her 10 Grammy Awards to date, as well as two Oscars for Best Original Song. Her latest album, 2024’s Hit Me Hard and Soft, inspired a sold-out global tour that traveled from North America to Europe, Australia and Japan. Now she is the star and co-director of an innovative, immersive new 3D concert film in collaboration with Oscar winner and visionary director James Cameron.
It was Cameron who proposed the idea. While in the midst of production for Avatar:Fire and Ash, the third installment of his groundbreaking 3D franchise, he met with Eilish’s mother, actress and musician Maggie Baird, about an upcoming film opportunity. “Maggie and my wife Suzy Amis Cameron are both deeply passionate about sustainability and food choice,” he says. “They had gotten together on a number of projects over the years. I was showing Maggie some new 3D stuff we might use in a future film and I just blurted out, ‘Why not shoot Billie’s tour in 3D?’ And Maggie just said, ‘I’ll ask her.’”
Eilish was already well into her tour but unexpectedly open to the idea. Making a film was not something she had been planning on. In fact, she had already decided not to do it. “But when my mom told me that James Cameron was asking if I wanted to make a movie of the concert in 3D, it sounded like it could be the coolest thing in the world,” she recalls. “I love the tour and the show so much. I had started to hate knowing that I wouldn’t be able to hold on to it. But when Jim came in with this idea, I realized that I would be able to re-experience it forever. So my answer was a resounding yes!”
James Cameron, left, and Billie Eilish on the set of Paramount Pictures Presents
A Lightstorm Earth Production / The Darkroom / Interscope Films Production of
“BILLIE EILISH HIT ME HARD AND SOFT: THE TOUR (LIVE IN 3D)”
The legendary devotion between the singer-songwriter and her fans inspired Cameron to suggest an intimate approach that would allow the film’s audience to experience what it is like to be Billie Eilish for a short time. “We decided to try and capture her reality of a day on the tour,” he says. “She had a lot of ideas about how to do that. She had already created the visuals and the colors and the screens for the show. She knew exactly how she wanted to show it all.”
The veteran filmmaker made an unexpected offer to Eilish. He asked her to co-direct the film with him. “She is the architect of an amazing show,” he explains. “She knows every beat so specifically. She knows her fans intimately and could talk me through that. What I know is how a movie works. I also knew the new technology I wanted to use, because my company developed it. So it became a perfect creative collaboration.”
Eilish jumped at the offer. “James Cameron is an Oscar-winning filmmaker and the king of 3D!” she says. “I never expected somebody of that stature to offer to co-direct with me. That was pretty magical. Once it was confirmed that we were doing it, we sprang into action. He came to see my show in Australia and we spent a lot of time talking through everything on the phone.”
The filmmakers shot over four days, capturing performances at the Co-op Live arena, the U.K.’s largest music venue, in Manchester, England, in July 2025. “Billie chose those dates because she really liked the arena,” says Cameron. “I thought I would just sneak away from making the Avatar movie for a few days and no one would ever know. It worked out beautifully. It was all very hectic and high-energy and a lot of fun.”
Eilish is known for her athletic, dynamic performance style and unusually personal audience engagement. “She’s in constant motion,” Cameron says. “Sometimes she’s just running flat out up and down the stage, which is about half the size of a football field. And people aren’t just passively listening. It’s like she has 20,000 backup singers. It’s a profoundly moving group experience and she’s like a tuning fork at the middle of it. I’m not saying that 20,000 people all sing perfectly in key, but they’re singing with her and they’re feeling the joy or the sadness of that moment with her.”
Getting the scope of the epic performance on camera required lots of planning and up to 20 cameras shooting simultaneously. “It took months of prep to make sure that we had every single shot and every single angle and every single moment of lighting all worked out,” Eilish says. “There were small but important moments that I wanted to be sure to include. It was important to me that the band was filmed every night. We spent so much time getting it right.”
The Billie Eilish Experience
While Eilish loved the idea of a film that would allow fans to experience her show as if they were there, she admits she was a bit apprehensive. “I wanted it to be a perfect version of the show,” she says. “The whole point of making a concert film was to capture what actually happened as it was happening. Changing anything for the film would have felt like a compromise.
“Originally we thought we would shoot only the concert,” she continues. “But we organically started filming stuff behind the scenes because there were cool things happening and the camera was there. It was the weirdest experience, but we got amazing stuff. The focus expanded to include the full experience, like how I created the show.”
The set for Hit Me Hard and Soft: The Tour is a direct reflection of Eilish’s creative vision. Designed by the singer and executed by the Moment Factory, an entertainment studio specializing in immersive experiences, it is packed with startling and unforgettable visuals that combine video, lighting, architecture, sound and special effects. A 360-degree circular main stage dominates the center of the arena and allows the star maximum contact with her audience, while the stage’s dynamic LED video floor showcases constantly changing images, while massive LED screens overhead stream the concert in real time. Laser displays, smoke machines and state-of-the-art lighting effects create “hard” and “soft” moments evoking the tour’s themes. An eclectic set list brings together new songs, earlier hits and covers in genres ranging from pop and rock to hip hop and electronic music.
Billie Eilish and Finneas in Paramount Pictures Presents A Lightstorm Earth Production / The Darkroom / Interscope Films Production of “BILLIE EILISH HIT ME HARD AND SOFT: THE TOUR (LIVE IN 3D)”
“It was so important that we showcased all the visuals — every color and every lighting cue, everything on the screens, every single moment in this entire show,” Eilish says. “That was all curated for this tour by me and an incredible group of people. The show is in the round, which I had never done before. It had this energy to it that was like nothing I’d experienced before. Even though it was an arena with thousands and thousands of people all around, it felt intimate, like we were all together in a small room.”
The film features Eilish’s pre-show prep for the grueling one-hour-and-forty-minute show and captures the performance that fans saw live, as well as her backstage life. Viewers will even get a glimpse of the tour’s famous “Puppy Room,” an actual room full of dogs to help people to relax. (A different rescue organization provided the pups at each stop. The dogs were all available for adoption.)
“We had long creative meetings to ensure we would fulfill her vision for the film,” Cameron says. “I did push her to try things that seemed outside of her comfort zone. For example, we needed to shoot over multiple nights so we wanted her to wear the same costumes every night. At first she said, no, she wasn’t changing anything. But I found out with Billie that ‘no’ can lead to ‘maybe’ and then ‘maybe’ leads to ‘okay, but here are the conditions.’ Ultimately, we got it all to work.”
At its heart, the film is about the extraordinary way in which Eilish connects with her audience. “One thing Billie is not, is a diva,” Cameron says. “She’s a very down-to-earth person, very transparent with her fans. Her trauma and her triumphs get written into her music for them to experience, which makes them feel exceptionally close to her. They went through their teenage years with her, watching how she processed many of the same challenges. A lot of them have grown up with her. When she performs live, the audience participates in the music.”
The fans are represented throughout the movie both in short interviews at the venue and during the performance. “There are shots of thousands of people all in perfect sync, knowing every lyric and being right there with her,” says Cameron. “People know the music so well they can almost channel her. It’s a joyful, deeply emotional experience. It’s not just jumping up and down and rocking out, although many of the songs are pretty dynamic, so people do all that stuff, too. But the slower, more emotional songs have the greatest power.”
The Final Destination
According to Eilish, the finished film is even better than she thought it could be. Working with Cameron was an eye-opening experience for her. “He always treated me like an equal and a partner. I have been directing my own music videos since I was about 16, but that’s very different from making a movie. Part of the reason Jim and I worked so well together is that a lot of our beliefs align. We share a real love for the art of it. From the beginning we agreed that the goal of shooting this movie was to capture the way that art impacts people all around the world and the incredible bond that I share with the fans. This show is a perfect example of our connection, of how important they are to me.”
She describes watching the finished product as a “very trippy” experience. “To see it all in 3D was mind-blowing,” she marvels. “I can watch myself like I’m right there and it’s wild. I’m really excited for audiences to see it, especially the close-up stuff. Even if they were at the concert in person, they weren’t that close. They’re going to get to see beyond just their point of view from the audience.
“I want everyone to see this movie. I’m so proud of it. I think that this is the best show I’ve ever created and performed,” Eilish adds. “It doesn’t matter if you were there or not, it’s going to be a unique experience. I hope that the experience that I had creating that show, doing the show, filming it and then editing it with Jim comes through.”
Cameron admits to having some favorite moments in the film, and is looking forward to finding out what speaks to other people. “Even if you went to one of the shows, you weren’t right there on stage with her like you are in the film. You feel like you’re physically present with an amazing world-class performer. I love what we call the ‘Billie Cam.’ She used it to film herself during the concert. When the camera is in her hands, she gets even closer than Cole could and it’s even more intimate. There are also particular songs that I always look forward to seeing like ‘Diner’ and ‘Lunch.’ ‘Chihiro’ is a great opening, and ‘Wildflower,’ of course, one of her Grammy-winning songs.”
He agrees with Eilish that this is a film everyone can enjoy. “If you’re already a fan, if you’ve been to any of her shows, but especially this show, it’s going to bring it all back so vividly,” Cameron says. “If you’ve heard about the show but you missed seeing it in person, this is a chance to see it as if you were there in the midst of it. We go into her mind with her. That’s much more than what you could have ever seen live. And if you’re not a fan yet, I challenge you to see her perform in this movie and come out of the theater without becoming a fan for life.”
Having released three studio albums, including her latest, Hit Me Hard and Soft, 24-year-old Billie Eilish remains one of the biggest stars to emerge in the 21st century. The album was written and recorded in her hometown of Los Angeles, with her brother, longtime collaborator and producer Finneas. Together, the multiple Grammy and Academy Award-winning pair created her most daring work to date, and what Rolling Stone called “Eilish’s best album yet.”
Since the release of her debut single, “ocean eyes,” in 2015, Eilish has continued to shatter the ceiling of music. Her first album, 2019’s When We All Fall Asleep, Where Do We Go?, debuted at #1 on the Billboard 200 in the U.S. as well as in 17 additional countries, and was the most streamed album of that year. In 2021, she released her sophomore album, Happier Than Ever, which also debuted at #1 in the Billboard 200 in the U.S. and 19 countries across the globe. Critically acclaimed worldwide, both albums were written, produced and recorded entirely by Eilish and Finneas.
A 10-time Grammy Award winner, Eilish has made history as the youngest artist to receive nominations and win in all the major categories at the 62nd GrammyAwards, receiving an award for Best New Artist, Album of the Year, Record of the Year, Song of the Year and Best Pop Vocal Album. She is also the youngest artist to write and record an official James Bond theme song, “No Time to Die,” which won an Academy Award for Best Original Song in 2022. In 2023, Eilish also wrote and released the critically acclaimed song “What Was I Made For?” for the Greta Gerwig-directed motion picture Barbie, which won an Academy Award and Golden Globe Award for Best Original Song, two GrammyAwards for Song of the Year and Best Song Written for Visual Media, and solidified Eilish yet again in the history books as the youngest person ever to win two Academy Awards.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on How Worldbuilding, Visual Narrative, & Visual Dynamics make your story feel alive
Every story comes alive when the world, the image, and the movement speak the same emotional truth. Worldbuilding creates the pressure your characters live under; Visual Narrative reveals that pressure in the images you choose; Visual Dynamics turns it into behaviour the audience can feel. When these three layers work together, your scenes stop describing a story and start embodying one.
Worldbuilding is the pressure system your characters live inside, the rules, textures, histories, and forces that shape how they behave. It’s not about maps or lore; it’s about creating a world that pushes back. When the environment has intention, every choice a character makes feels charged, specific, and inevitable. It shapes the emotional pressure your characters live under, and that pressure expresses itself differently in a screenplay, a novel, and a stage play.
In Mickey 17 (2025), Bong Joon‑ho builds a world where expendability is normalised, and that single world rule shapes every interaction, every silence, every moral compromise. In The Bride! (2025), Maggie Gyllenhaal uses a heightened, expressionistic version of 1930s Europe to expose the power structures that define who gets to be “created” and who gets to be “controlled.”
Aquaman and the Lost Kingdom shows how the environment becomes emotional pressure rather than just spectacle. The film expands Atlantis into a living ecosystem of bioluminescent cities, volcanic kingdoms, and ancient frozen territories, each with its own political temperature and cultural tension
The way NT Live’s Frankenstein (directed by Danny Boyle) uses a stark, industrial, almost anatomical set to trap the Creature inside a world that exposes him, judges him, and denies him shelter. The lighting rig that pulses like a nervous system, the rotating platform that never lets him rest, the cold metallic surfaces — all of it creates a world that shapes behaviour before a single line is spoken.
In a novel, worldbuilding becomes the texture of consciousness — the way Jesmyn Ward’s Let Us Descend (2025 cycle) uses heat, landscape, and elemental imagery to make the reader feel the emotional climate pressing on the protagonist.
Worldbuilding is not decoration; it is the environment that shapes behaviour, reveals conflict, and gives the story its emotional temperature. When the world is built with intention, the characters don’t just move through a setting — they move through a force that defines who they are and what they can become.
Visual Narrative
Visual Narrative is the emotional truth made visible, the images, objects, and spatial choices that reveal what the story is really about before anyone speaks. It’s the photograph inside the scene: the detail that exposes desire, conflict, or tension in a single glance. The right image turns meaning into something the audience can feel. It lets the audience see the emotional truth of the story before a character speaks. In a screenplay, it becomes the camera’s way of thinking.
Nomadland (2020) uses empty parking lots, vast plains, and improvised campsites to reveal Fern’s inner landscape without explaining it. In a novel, Visual Narrative becomes the writer’s control of image and sensory detail.
How Ocean Vuong’s novel On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous uses fractured, luminous images of family, labour, and memory to show how beauty and violence coexist in the narrator’s world. On stage, Visual Narrative emerges through bodies, space, and design.
How the stageplay The Inheritance (2018) uses an almost bare stage and shifting physical tableaux to expose the emotional architecture of queer history and desire.
Visual Narrative is not about describing what things look like; it’s about choosing images that carry tension, reveal character, and make the audience feel the story’s emotional temperature. When the right image appears at the right moment, the story stops being told and starts being experienced.
Visual Dynamics
Visual Dynamics is movement as emotion, the rhythm, pacing, and physical behaviour that show how characters respond to pressure. It’s the shift in posture, the distance between bodies, the way a room breathes when someone enters. When movement carries intention, the story stops being described and starts being lived. It turns emotion into movement, giving the audience a physical way to read what a character is feeling.
In a screenplay, Visual Dynamics becomes the choreography of behaviour. The way Past Lives (2023) uses stillness, distance, and tiny shifts in posture to express longing more powerfully than dialogue ever could. In a novel, it becomes the rhythm of bodies in space.
The way Gabrielle Zevin’s novel Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow uses the physicality of collaboration, conflict, and play to reveal the emotional stakes between its characters. On stage, Visual Dynamics is the heartbeat of the performance.
The stage play Prima Facie (2022) uses rapid shifts in pace, stance, and spatial control to show a woman navigating power, vulnerability, and the law in real time.
Visual Dynamics is not about action; it’s about intention, the physical choices that expose desire, fear, pressure, and change. When movement carries emotional weight, the story becomes something the audience doesn’t just understand, they feel it in their own bodies.
Soulful Meditations “You’ll become a better writer and person when you realize how brief and brutal and glorious life is. I promise you’ll develop a filter, and the filter is art, and the art will burn through the brutality; the art will use it as kindling. Look back for the people walking the same path you got through, and extend a hand.” Tennessee WilliamsRead more
How Reunion Travel Reawakens the Writer Sometimes, the story doesn’t return through solitude or study—but through motion. A road trip with a friend you haven’t seen in a decade to reconnect with friends you haven’t seen in years can jolt your narrative heart awake. Not because of the scenery, but because of the company: people who carry forgotten versions of you, who speak in cadences your writing once knew. Read more
Supporting and functional characters help anchor your story They are the chorus line that makes the narrative breathe. Without them, the world feels flat and incomplete. Read more
Stereotypes are the unsung architecture of storytelling. They shape casting decisions, frame audience expectations, and anchor entire genres. Their real value lies in how they can be bent, twisted, or broken to reveal something startlingly human. In today’s crowded narrative landscape, the stories that resonate most are the ones that start with a type and end with a person. Read more
If you think you know your story, think again! Knowing your story places you in a comfort zone of confidence and bravura. Writing your story quickly reveals how little you truly know it, demanding a journey into what you thought was familiar—opening the narrative in ways you could never have imagined. Read more
Reconciliation in Writing Your Story Before we can transform pain into meaning, we must first name it. The act of writing invites us to confront the shadows we often avoid—the disappointments, the betrayals, the losses that linger in memory. Read more
Beginning Your Screenplay Journey Writing a screenplay begins not with formatting, but with a flicker—an image, a line of dialogue, a feeling that won’t let go. Read more
Writing for the Right Reasons To write from inspiration is to write from reverence. Read more
Writing for the Wrong Reasons You are not a content machine. You are a storyteller. A truth-teller. A meaning-maker. And the only wrong reason to write is to be anyone else. Read more
Killing Your Darlings Can Be Deadly Sometimes we forget that we are writing our story for someone else to read. Our words become so precious to us that we overlook the possibility that even a single paragraph we dismissed might hold meaning for another. Read more
Know Your Terrain: Writing Against Genre, Subject, and Doubt Whether you’re crafting a novel, a memoir, a screenplay, or a short story, you’re stepping into a genre, a tradition, a lineage of voices that have spoken before you. Read more
The Power and Craft of Fictional Realities in Writing Creating a fictional reality in writing allows authors to construct immersive worlds that deepen emotional resonance, challenge norms, and expand the boundaries of thought and experience. Read more
The Power of Restraint: Why Less Is More in Writing In a world saturated with words—tweets, texts, emails, essays—the art of saying less has never been more vital. “Less is more” isn’t just a minimalist mantra; it’s a powerful writing philosophy that champions clarity, precision, and impact. Read more
Writing a Novel from Inspiration to First Pages To be a novelist is to build worlds from silence—to shape memory, myth, and imagination into a living architecture of words. Novelists don’t just tell stories; they excavate emotional truths, stretch time across pages, and offer readers a mirror, a refuge, or a reckoning. Read more
In a world of fragmented attention, thematic echoing offers continuity, a pulse beneath the prose that reminds us: this story is not just a sequence of events, but a meditation on something deeper. Read more
How to Befriend Algorithms In today’s creative landscape, algorithms are no longer confined to the realm of coders and engineers—they’ve become quiet collaborators in the writing process. For writers, algorithms offer both structure and possibility, shaping how we draft, refine, and share our work. Read more
Research is the Writer’s Deepest Ritual To write with clarity, conviction, and resonance, one must first feed the talent that fuels the page. Talent alone is not enough—it must be nourished, provoked, and sharpened by facts, ideas, and lived textures. Read more
The Quiet Craft of Polishing Prose Once your novel has been rewritten, revised, and edited, there remains one final, often overlooked ritual: paragraph polishing. This is not a mechanical sweep for typos or grammar slips—it’s a deeper, more intuitive process. It’s where prose is coaxed into rhythm and resonance, where each paragraph is tuned to breathe with the life of the story. Read more
How Internal Logic Shapes Storytelling Creativity thrives not in chaos, but in the quiet direction of internal logic — a compass that doesn’t confine your path, but makes sure it leads somewhere. It empowers writers to craft stories that resonate, endure, and transform. Read more
Trusting Your Instinct as a Writer Trusting your instinct isn’t a matter of luck or talent—it’s a deliberate act of courage. And in a world crowded with advice, algorithms, and endless rewrites, tuning into that quiet certainty may be the most radical thing a writer can do. Read more
The Art of Transforming Experience into Narrative To tell a personal story is to walk a tightrope between exposure and intention. Whether framed by the intimacy of prose or the immediacy of the screen, these narratives demand more than recollection—they require a deliberate act of construction. Read more
Freedom of Expression in the Writer’s World For writers, freedom of expression is both a gift and a challenge. Writers wield their words like blades—sharp enough to cut through injustice, but also capable of inflicting unintended wounds. Read more
How Fictional Realities Shape Our Minds The creation of fictional realities is more than mere storytelling—it is a powerful art form where imagination runs wild, and entire worlds take shape. These crafted realms serve as gateways to boundless creativity, deep exploration, and profound meaning, offering both writers and readers a chance to escape, reflect, and challenge perspectives. Read more
Silencing your inner critic. Overcoming the fear of writing your story is a challenge many aspiring writers face, but it’s entirely possible with the right mindset and strategies. Silencing your inner critic is essential for unlocking creativity and confidence in writing. Read more
How Fiction Breathes Life into History History is full of untold stories, overlooked perspectives, and moments that can be reimagined in fresh ways. Blending fiction with history is an art that allows you to breathe life into the past while keeping your narrative compelling and immersive. Read more
Unveiling the Heart and Soul of Your Story The heart and soul of a story often lies in the emotional resonance and the core themes it seeks to convey. It’s about the connections it forges with the reader—the moments that make them laugh, cry, ponder, or even change their perspective. It’s in the characters who feel alive and the world that draws you in. Read more
The Journey Matters: Writing Your Story Without Cutting Corners While no magic wand can replace the depth and richness of well-crafted storytelling, there are ways to make the writing process more efficient without sacrificing quality. Read more
Ink of Authenticity: Writing What You Know “Write what you know” is timeless advice that encourages writers to draw from their own experiences, emotions, and knowledge. By infusing your writing with the authenticity and depth that comes from real-life experiences, your work will resonate more with readers, creating a sense of genuine connection. Read more
Stories shape our lives in profound ways Imagine a world without stories—it would be a vastly different place. Stories are the threads that weave the fabric of our lives. They enrich our minds, nurture our hearts, and connect us to each other. Without stories, the world would be a much less vibrant and meaningful place. Read more
Know Your Narrator: The Voice Behind the Story It is important to know who is telling the story. Through the eyes of the narrator, we witness the world unfold. Through the narrator’s insight, our characters come to life. And it is through that same insight that your story fully comes alive. Read more
The Narrator is Absolutely Pivotal in a Story The narrator serves as the lens through which readers experience the world of a story, influencing not just what the audience sees, but how they feel about it. Read more
Explore the inner life of your story A story may boast a clever plot, expertly crafted with intricate twists and compelling complexities. Yet, without a meaningful connection between the External Activity—the events and actions—and the Internal Life—the emotions, motivations, and personal stakes—it risks falling flat. Read more
Exploring the Outer Life of a Story: Unveiling the Journey Beyond the Page. The outer life of a story transforms it into more than a standalone narrative—it becomes a living, breathing entity that interacts with the broader world. Read more
Beyond the First Draft: Mastering the Craft of Rewriting and Polishing It’s remarkable how writers often get confused between rewriting and polishing, sometimes overlooking one in favour of the other, with disastrous consequences. Neglecting either process can result in a piece that lacks depth or polish, ultimately falling short of its potential. Balancing both rewriting and polishing is crucial for crafting compelling, well-rounded writing. Read more
The Writer’s Toolkit: Mastering the Craft of Composition Whether crafting a screenplay, novel, or stageplay, understanding the Art of Composition can help you create a more compelling and engaging story. It’s not just about putting words together; it’s about weaving them into something that resonates with readers. Read more
Embrace the New Year with Writing Ambition Here’s some inspiring advice to help writers embrace the new year with vigour and creativity. Read more
AI: The Secret Weapon Every Writer Needs in Their Arsenal AI has become an indispensable companion for writers, offering invaluable assistance in brainstorming ideas for screenplays, fiction, and non-fiction. Whether you’re in search of a surprising plot twist, an engaging character arc, or a fresh perspective on a topic, AI can provide endless suggestions to fuel your creativity. With AI by your side, the possibilities for storytelling are truly limitless. Read more
AI Conversations: Unlocking the Future of Communication Advanced AI companions are designed to create more meaningful, natural, and intelligent interactions, making them more effective and enjoyable to work with. Read more
Why do we write stories? Stories are a timeless way for humans to connect, reflect, and understand the world around us and the inner workings of our minds. We write stories for a multitude of reasons—each as unique as the stories themselves. Stories hold a profound significance in our lives. Read more
14 Structural Points To Shape Your Story Structure is discipline. It’s where the right-brain subconscious and unconscious writing and thinking are whipped into order by the rigid, uncompromising left-brain consciousness and logic. This is where idealism and realism clash head-on. Read more
Criteria For An Oscar-Winning Idea If you want to build your story on a solid idea, this is what you need to take into consideration when coming up with an idea to write your story. Read more
Master The Art Of Visual Narrative When you craft your story you have to offer a visual experience for the reader, making the story and characters vividly burst to life in their minds-eye. As a novelist and screenwriter, your first reader is not the person purchasing your book or watching the movie, but a professional reader, who will give their approval or dismissal to publishers and studio executives. This is an important decision-maker in the publishing and film/television industries. Read more
Show Don’t Tell The phrase “show, don’t tell” reminds writers to immerse the reader in the story rather than simply telling readers what’s happening. To show rather than tell is the first rule of writing, and for good reason. Read more
The Essentials of Genre: Elevating Your Storytelling Understanding the fundamentals of genre is pivotal for any storyteller. Genre isn’t just a label; it’s the blueprint that shapes your narrative’s framework, guiding the tone, style, and expectations. Think of it as the compass that navigates your creative journey, ensuring that your story resonates with its audience. Read more
Regulate the Heartbeat of your StoryIf your story has a healthy heart, it will result in happy readers and audiences. Writing is an organic process that needs lots of blank space to grow. Your writing will be at its best if it’s driven by raw emotion, by inspirational personal experiences that shaped your life, reflecting your true self. Read more
Manipulate Emotions The storyteller is the puppet master of emotions. A writer is the puppet master of emotions, the dictator of reason, and can make anything happen in a fictional reality where everything is possible and extreme gratification is your only goal, and the audience’s ultimate payoff and reward. Read more
Don’t Get Stuck On The First Chapter Trying desperately to write the perfect story, it is easy to fall into the trap of only seeing the first chapter, constantly rewriting and rewording it to be word-perfect, and not seeing the story as a whole, complete with a beginning (set-up), middle (confrontation) and ending (resolution). It is not difficult to overcome this blinding obstacle. The first step to completing the story is to write a story outline. Read more
Bring Your Story To Life With The Right Words Word choice is an important aspect of writing that should never be overlooked. It can significantly impact the effectiveness and clarity of your writing. Through the deliberate selection of precise and evocative language, you have the power to craft enthralling and immersive content that captivates your readers / viewers / listeners and leaves a lasting impression. Strong word choice can unlock images, emotions, and more. Read more
Expose The Heart And Soul Of Your Story A story is lifeless without a heart and soul and as its creator, the writer has to bring it to life. The writer is responsible for the birth of a story, its lifespan, and the everlasting emotional impact it must have on its readers and viewers. It all begins with the written word and ends with an emotionally rewarding and fulfilling story that lives on in the minds of those who experience it. It is important for the writer to make the audience experience the story as a visceral and breathing organism. Every story has a life and it’s not simply you as a writer telling the story, but creating its vitality. Read more
Sharpen Your Instinct and Intuition When it comes to expressing inner values and establishing a personal perspective on a story, writers are often guided only by their instinct or intuition and a little luck. Instinct and intuition are essential for getting to the more meaningful, authentic aspects of a story. The starting point for any artistic creation is always at the level of intuition, because its where new ideas are conceived. New ideas seldom rise to the level of consciousness fully formed. Read more
Stop Manipulating Your Characters Everything will fall into place in your story once you allow the characters to be who they are, and not what you want them to be. As a writer, you’re a passenger on your character’s respective journeys, the creator who has to put all the pieces of the puzzle together naturally, instinctively, without too much interference and unnecessary meddling. Once you set your characters free, and allow them to reclaim their authentic selves, your true nature (and function) as a storyteller will gracefully emerge and you’ll fulfill the task of great writers, craft your story to the best of your artistic abilities, without conceit or misinterpretations. Read more
Write Your Story From The Inside Out Stop obsessing over writing a film, bestseller or play and focus your attention on writing the ultimate story. Don’t place your story into a box and smother it with conventions, rules and pre-conceived perceptions. Your story is a living, breathing organism. Let your story breathe. Writing your story is an organic process that feeds off inspiration and is fueled by passion. Read more
Explore The Thematic Purpose Of Your Story Until you know what you are trying to say, your story isn’t complete. The writing process is a search for meaning, a theme, what the story is really about, what gives it meaning and a purpose for being, besides making millions of dollars for stars and movie studios. The theme is a unifying idea or motif, repeated or developed throughout a work. Once you have something you want to write about (Idea), defined the Premise and Concept, and know what your genre is, you need to know what the intention, objective or controlling idea – theme – of your story is. Read more
Avoiding predictability in writing can make a story feel mundane and unengaging because it removes the element of surprise that keeps readers hooked. When readers/audiences can easily anticipate what will happen next, the narrative loses its suspense and intrigue. Read more
Maximise Your Creative Expression All writing is discipline. Writing is a day-by-day job: you write the story scene by scene, page by page, day by day. It is an experimental and learning process involving the acquisition of skill and coordination. When you are in the writing experience, you are near your loved ones in body, but your mind and concentration are a thousand miles away. You cannot break your concentration to deal with snacks, laundry, meals or shopping. You need space, private time, support, encouragement and understanding. Read more
Find Your Voice As A Writer Your writing voice reflects the tapestry of your life—each thread representing a moment, emotion, or insight that only you have experienced. It’s this unique blend that makes your writing stand out and resonate with readers. So embrace your individuality, and let your voice shine through in your words. Read more
Crafting A Screenplay VS A Novel Both screenplays and novels are creative outlets for storytelling, but they have distinct differences and offer unique challenges and rewards. Read more
Sign A Contract With Yourself If you need some motivation, here’s a handy note to paste next to your bathroom mirror so that when you look at yourself in the mirror each morning, you are reminded of why you write. Say it out loud! Read more
Stories shape our lives in profound ways Imagine a world without stories—it would be a vastly different place. Stories are the threads that weave the fabric of our lives. They enrich our minds, nurture our hearts, and connect us to each other. Without stories, the world would be a much less vibrant and meaningful place. Read more
The Significance Of Prequels Prequels are films that chronologically precede existing films in a series, exploring the events and stories that lead up to the original plot. They’re a fascinating way to delve deeper into a character’s background, explore origins, and expand the universe of a beloved story. Read more
22 Lessons From Stephen King On How To Be A Great Writer “I can’t lie and say there are no bad writers. Sorry, but there are lots of bad writers,” says renowned author Stephen King. “I’m convinced that fear is at the root of most bad writing,” Writers should throw back their shoulders, stick out their chins, and put their writing in charge. Read more
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on The Write Journey: A 12‑week guided path to writing the story only you can tell
For 26 years, The Writing Studio has helped shape the voices of South Africa’s leading filmmakers, screenwriters, novelists, and playwrights. Now it’s your turn.
In a world craving authentic voices, The Write Journey offers more than guidance — it offers transformation. You’ll move from the first spark of inspiration through developing your idea, characters, and plot, all the way to writing your first pages with confidence and creative ownership.
This is not a course about rules. It’s a course about clarity, craft, and creative authority.
Who this journey is for
Writers who:
Feel stuck, overwhelmed, or unsure where to begin
Have a story but can’t shape it
Want a structured, emotionally grounded process
Want mentorship, not generic advice
Want to write a story that is both authentic and marketable
If that’s you, you’re in the right place.
What you will walk away with
By the end of The Write Journey, you will have:
A clear, emotionally resonant story foundation
A fully developed protagonist and character arc
A structured narrative based on classical design
A scene‑by‑scene roadmap for your screenplay, novel, or play
A writing practice you can trust
A renewed connection to your creative voice
In a world hungry for stories that feel real, this is the transformation writers come for — and stay for.
How the course works
The Write Journey unfolds like a story:
Act I — Inspiration Reconnecting with the idea, the impulse, the emotional truth.
Act II — Exploration Building characters, world, conflict, structure, and theme.
Act III — Creation Shaping your story into a blueprint you can write from.
You receive:
Weekly lessons
Weekly writing tasks
Personal feedback
One‑on‑one mentorship
A complete story roadmap by the end of the course
Why writers trust The Writing Studio
For over two decades, The Writing Studio has mentored:
Award‑winning filmmakers
Published novelists
Produced playwrights
First‑time writers who needed a way in
Our approach is simple: We help you write the story only you can tell — and write it well.
Your next step
The world is craving authentic voices. If you’re ready to move from inspiration to a fully developed idea — characters, plot, and your first written pages — The Write Journey is your path home to the writer you’re meant to be.
For over 40 years, Daniel Dercksen has lived at the intersection of story, craft, and South African cinema. As founder of The Writing Studio, he has spent 25 years training and mentoring writers who went on to publish novels, produce films, and shape the country’s creative landscape. If you’re looking for a mentor with real industry insight — and a proven track record — Daniel is the one writers trust. READ MORE
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Live Theatre On The Big Screen
Cinema audiences and theatre lovers alike will be treated to innovative productions from some of Britain’s most exciting playwrights, directors, actors, and stages, on the big screen as part of the NT (National Theatre) Live series.
Gillian Anderson (Sex Education), Vanessa Kirby (The Crown), and Ben Foster (Lone Survivor) lead the cast in Tennessee Williams’ timeless masterpiece, returning to cinemas.
As Blanche’s fragile world crumbles, she turns to her sister Stella for solace – but her downward spiral brings her face to face with the brutal, unforgiving Stanley Kowalski.
From visionary director Benedict Andrews, this acclaimed production was filmed live during a sold-out run at the Young Vic Theatre in 2014.
30 / 31 May & 2 June (V & A Waterfront / Rosebank Nouveau)
Oscar-nominated Rosamund Pike (Gone Girl, Saltburn) is Jessica in the much-anticipated next play from the team behind Prima Facie.
Jessica Parks is a smart Crown Court Judge at the top of her career. Behind the robe, she is a karaoke fiend, loving wife and a supportive parent. When an event threatens to throw her life completely off balance, can she hold her family upright?
Writer Suzie Miller and director Justin Martin reunite following their global phenomenon Prima Facie, with this searing examination of modern motherhood and masculinity.
25, 26 & 28 July (V & A Waterfront / Rosebank Nouveau)
Olivier Award-winner Jack Lowden (Slow Horses, Dunkirk) is joined by Emmy and BAFTA-winner Martin Freeman (The Hobbit, The Responder) in the critically acclaimed and subversively funny new play by David Ireland.
After years in the 12-step programme of Alcoholics Anonymous, James becomes a sponsor to newcomer Luka. The pair bond over black coffee, trade stories and build a fragile friendship out of their shared experiences. But as Luka approaches step five – the moment of confession – dangerous truths emerge, threatening the trust on which both of their recoveries depend.
Finn den Hertog directs the provocative and entertaining production filmed live from @sohoplace on London’s West End.
5, 6, & 8 September (V & A Waterfront / Rosebank Nouveau)
Book your tickets at the new-look Ster-Kinekor website on www.sterkinekor.com or download the new SK App on your smartphone. For news and updates, go to Facebook: Ster-Kinekor Theatres | follow Ster-Kinekor on Twitter: @Ster-Kinekor. For all queries, call Ticketline on 0861-Movies (668 437).
Book your tickets at www.sterkinekor.com or download the SK App on your smartphone. For news and updates, go to Facebook: Ster-Kinekor Theatres | follow Ster-Kinekor on Twitter: @Ster-Kinekor. For all queries, call Ticketline on 0861-Movies (668 437).
Why did you decide to set and shoot the film in Australia?
Baltasar Kormákur: When I was first sent the script, it wasn’t necessarily supposed to be Australia. It was set in America, but we needed to shoot in a warm climate at a specific time of year, so the Southern Hemisphere came into play. Then, for economic reasons, Australia became one of the options. As I started looking into it, I felt it was actually a great idea to locate the film here and really use Australian nature, which is unique, and build the film around that more. That choice took us down a very particular path.
What was that path, and how does it relate to your love of practical filmmaking?
Kormákur: When I read the script, it felt very visceral to me — almost existential. Through action, through horror, through hardship, you reveal the characters, and that’s always been important to me. I’m from a country [Iceland] where the weather changes every five minutes; you’re up against nature your whole life. It becomes a big part of who we are, and I wanted to use the landscape in that way. I like that when you buy a ticket to a movie, it can take you on a journey. You can travel through film. I want the audience to feel they’ve been in the place, that they’ve felt it, and almost smelled it. That’s hard to achieve. You can build amazing things in a studio, but for me, it starts from the ground up, from real experience in nature. We find the places first and then build into them. Some of what we’re doing would be too hard, or impossible, to fake. By using nature and real locations as much as we can, you bring the audience into a world and an experience that’s all too rare in cinema today.
How did the challenging locations inform the production?
Kormákur: I think they shape everything. The obstacle is what you’re looking for; the rub between your idea and the obstacle is often where art is created. When you don’t have obstacles, filmmaking becomes too contrived, too easy, and nothing feels real. For this level of filmmaking, you need technical solutions and some studio work to achieve certain things. But by starting the film out in nature, the hardship the actors and crew go through lives in them. Even when we get to the studio, it’s not “easy”—the floor is like real nature. We’re informed in every way, psychologically and physically, by the experience we’ve already had. And when you go to a location that’s really hard to get to, you see it differently. You take the most from it. You don’t just say, “Let’s shoot this corner and get out.” You’ve worked so hard — first to convince everyone it’s the right place, then to solve the logistics of getting people and equipment there — that you’re going to turn every stone. Literally.
With such demanding conditions, how did you motivate everyone to go on this journey with you?
Kormákur: We really worked as a team. I was the instigator, the igniter. I was the one who said, “Let’s go there and do it.” But then the team came with me, and it became a collective effort. I might be the one who takes the first stroke when we swim to a location, but I’m not the one carrying all the equipment. There’s a lot of hard work behind this. The actors have to perform in these conditions. They’re wet for 12 hours, they’re cold, they’re uncomfortable. I can take credit for pushing the idea, but many people have to work incredibly hard so we can achieve it. From the beginning, we were very clear with everyone: This is what it’s going to be. Of course, there were moments where people thought, “What’s wrong with this Icelandic director? Why is he bringing us here?” But in the end, I think people valued it. Most of us get into filmmaking because we want to experience something, to see something — not to spend our lives in a green-screen studio, even though the business tends to drag you there. On this project, I felt a lot of people saying, “Thanks for bringing me here. This is amazing.”
Many Australian crew members had never been to some of these locations. They’d say, “I didn’t know this existed.” And for the actors as well, it gave them a huge amount to work with. What were some of the trickiest locations you shot in?
Kormákur: There were caves in the Grand Canyon [in Australia’s Blue Mountains National Park] that were really hard to get to. Even just to scout them, we had to swim; there’s no other way in. I remember the first time I went there, I just kept swimming, then walking barefoot over very rough terrain, until I found something and thought, “This is exactly what we need.” And, of course, it was the furthest you could possibly go. That’s how it always is. Then came convincing everyone that it was worth it. Eventually, I was there with the whole crew, producers included, swimming to the location. It was like, “Look at that — people are actually ready to do things. You just have to convince them.”
How did the landscape itself surprise you or reshape scenes once you got there?
Kormákur: When you allow nature to start shaping things, it brings you ideas and grounded solutions. You can’t be in a real environment like this and then rely on fake gestures. That changed and shaped a lot of what we did. If you have a real environment and a fake scene, it just doesn’t work. You have to find the truth. The landscape puts pressure on you: We can’t just do the same contrived solution you see in every other Hollywood thriller. We have to find a different way.
What was it like working with Charlize Theron, Taron Egerton, and Eric Bana?
Kormákur: I’m lucky to have them. These are top-class actors. Charlize is a legend, and even when you work with the best of the best, it still surprises you how good they can be when they really dig in. With Charlize, there were several moments where she found something new in an emotion we’ve seen a thousand times on screen. That amazes me. What she had to go through physically as Sasha in this film is punishing — nobody should have to go through that. We really pushed it to the limit, but her resilience is incredible. Taron’s role is very different but also very challenging. I’d been following his career and knew he was an incredibly talented young man. Even so, he managed to surprise me with how unexpected his choices were, how he gave his character, Ben, a whole new life. It’s a tricky role, and I feel we explored almost every possibility with it. He was very willing to go on the journey and try different things. And I also want to mention Eric Bana, who plays Tommy and created a great relationship with Charlize in the early scenes. He’s an excellent actor as well.
Charlize is known for throwing herself into stunt-heavy work. How would you describe her dedication to this film? Kormákur: You couldn’t ask for more. She’s climbing rock faces I wouldn’t go on. The physical endurance she’s shown is incredible, and I think it really shows in the film. Probably the most striking example is that jump off the cliff into the pool. That was very early in the shoot. She said, “I want to do that,” and I thought, “Oh shit, that’s high.” She jumped, and then she wanted to do it again and again: “I’ll do it better.” You could see the producers’ faces around me: “Before anything happens, please stop this.” It was fantastic because it told me, “OK, she’s really into it. We’re going to do some serious stuff together.” But it’s a fine line. With talent at that level, if they want to do something again, there’s usually more to get, and often that ends up being gold in the movie. At the same time, you know they can hurt themselves. So it’s a very delicate balance between protecting them and not shutting down something special.
Charlize Theron: “This movie really fired up my brain. When I read the script, I couldn’t put it down and it stayed with me. There was something about the simplicity of it that I found beautiful — not simple in a negative way, but beautiful in its simplicity and not trying to be contrived. It felt very pure but with great impact. The bite and the kick were so strong in what it was trying to accomplish without bells and whistles, and I loved that. I was excited by the idea of it being pretty much a two‑hander with me and Taron and pushing physical storytelling to its extreme.”
Apex (2026). Charlize Theron on the set of Apex. Cr: Kane Skennar/Netflix
“What was behind all of that was the beating heart of a man who wanted to bring joy,” Michael screenwriter John Logan questions. “When I started looking at Michael’s life, I did the due diligence that you do as a dramatist dealing with historical material. I went in and I read everything. And I looked at so much material on Michael, just hundreds of pages of notes he had written to himself, inspirational notes, song lyrics.”
“I wanted to make a movie that was nothing but dialogue, that would be two great actors and a great script and nothing else. I honestly thought it would be fast and simple,” says Mother Mary screenwriter and visionary director David Lowery. “Mother Mary is about how art can take something terrible and turn it into something beautiful.”
“This is a movie that plays several different horror chords, and I’ve got history and renown for being someone who creates some pretty gory set pieces and some quite shocking imagery,” says writer-director Lee Cronin of Lee Cronin’s The Mummy. “this movie is no different in many ways, but it also plays with psychology, dread and chills as well. I think when it comes to gore and to imagery that is really arresting and sticks in your mind, it has to be earned. It has to be based on context. I think for me, the simple equation is to find characters that people fall in love with, and then maybe you can start to turn the screw and do horrible things to them.”
“In your closest relationships, you should be able to share everything, from how you actually feel to who you actually are,” says screenwriter Kristoffer Borgli. “The Drama is about that idea getting stress-tested between two people who are head over heels in love, and who maybe never considered there could be more to the other person. It’s about the power of love — an emotional state you don’t get to control, and how complicated that becomes when your feelings are at odds with your rationale. When that balance slips, you find yourself inside a crucial dilemma.”
“When you adapt a first-person story, you lose that direct access to a character’s thoughts,” says screenwriter Lauren Levine. “The letters in Reminders Of Him gave us a way to bring that interiority back without it feeling heavy-handed. We also explored her notebooks as a way to show her guilt and her attempt to move forward.”
“This is the story of two disparate individuals from opposite ends of the galaxy, and through science, teaching, empathy and compassion, they work together to save the universe,” says screenwriter Drew Goddard of Project Hail Mary. “We were terrified we would have to simplify it for a general audience, but what we found was the opposite. The audience loved that the science was complicated and challenging.”
“I’ve wanted to make Giant for many years, for many reasons. The most important being: one, because Naseem’s story, and his journey and relationship with life-long mentor Brendan Ingle, is as moving and heartbreaking as it is exhilarating,” says writer-director Rowan Dinar Athale. “I want the film to inspire those who still crave it, and still need it. And I want the world to once again celebrate one of the few British-Asian-Muslims in our history.
“The Testament of Ann Lee is a retelling of the life of the extraordinary true legend Ann Lee, one of the few female religious leaders of the 18th century,” says writer-director Mona Fastvold. “I was raised in a secular household, and yet Ann Lee’s prophecies—however implausible—moved me deeply. Not because I share her faith, but because I recognise in her a yearning for justice, transcendence, and communal grace. Her radical pursuit of a self-fashioned utopia speaks to the creative impulse at the heart of all artistic endeavour: the urgent need to shape the world anew.”
“I’m interested in the monstrousness I see outside of myself that I think is really kind of alive and everywhere right now. I’m also interested in the monstrousness I see inside myself. And at the time, I was particularly interested in that. I was like, “What is this terrifying stuff that I personally believe is in all of us?” And Frankenstein is a way to think about and understand that,” says writer, director and producer Maggie Gyllenhaal of The Bride!, a bold, gothic, and psychologically charged reimagining of Bride of Frankenstein.
“We’ve played it so many different ways,” says writer-director Kevin Williamson of Scream 7. “Ghostface is always a trickster. You never know what you’re going to get. “The goal is to constantly surprise the audience. I don’t want Ghostface to just show up and kill somebody. I love a good chase scene. I want the victims to fight for their lives. I want to see Ghostface go at it with someone audiences love.”
“At the heart of Die My Love is the complexity of love and how it can change and transform over time. I aimed to keep it grounded, human, spontaneous and funny at times, capturing the moments that feel small but carry a lot of weight. This film is for anyone who’s ever been in a relationship – there’s heartbreak and beauty in vulnerability,” says writer-director Lynne Ramsay.
“The central question of crime fiction for me is how does one try to live decently in an indecent world?,” says Crime 101 screenwriter Don Winslow. “So I often have characters with good intentions that they’re not always able to carry out. I like characters that have internal conflict. I like characters who are morally flawed. I’m not trying to write white knights. At the same time, I’m not trying to write totally dark villains. I like those ambiguities. I think that that is reality, and I tend to write realistic fiction”.
“Our Wuthering Heights is a period romance but it’s not niche,” says writer-director Emerald Fennell. “It’s a grand, epic, multi-plex movie based on what I believe is the greatest love story ever written. The cinema is a place to connect, and we’re giving audiences a way to feel something, to unleash any emotions they’ve been stifling. To reclaim romance via a devastatingly sexy film from a sexy book—as sexy a book as could’ve been at that time, and it still is today. Emily Brontë’s story gets under your skin. No matter how many times I’ve read it I find things that are new, or remember something that I can no longer find, and that destabilises me as much as it did when I first read it.”
Veteran writer of short stories and screenplays, screenwriter Owen Egerton’s inspiration for Whistle is rooted in exploring what frightens him most. And what scares him most is death. “Not just death in the vague sort of sense but my particular death, my personal death. So I came up with a story about people being pursued by their own particular death. Their own particular future ghost coming to get them.”
“I wrote this script faster than I’ve written anything,” writer-director Bradley Cooper says of Is This Thing On? “And then the filming, I was much more at ease than I’ve ever been. Because you get into a hole on the day sometimes, and maybe things aren’t working. But I just breathed through it, like, ‘It’s going to come. It’s going to come. Stay relaxed.’ The moment you crink up, you’re fucked. It’s like that in anything – stand-up comedy, a fight, sports. You’ve got to stay loose, and I was very loose through this whole movie.”
“I don’t often have words to describe why I choose a project,” says writer-director Chloé Zhao. “I’m often guided by instinct, a tight pull on my heart center. Stories appear in my life as if they have chosen me and I have no choice but to surrender to them. Hamnet came into my life like a whisper that grew into a hurricane. By the end of the journey, I was tenderized. I had truly experienced what it feels like to live with an open heart in the eye of a storm – the beauty, the pain, the thrill at the edge of annihilation and the silence.
Send Help screenwriters Damian Shannon and Mark Swift, like director Sam Raimi, have a deep-rooted appreciation for mixed-genre storytelling. “One of the reasons our taste is what it is, is because in our formative years we watched a lot of Sam Raimi movies,” Shannon says. “You know a Sam Raimi movie when you see it.” “We heard that Sam wanted to do an elevated thriller-horror,” Swift continues. “We looked in our bag, found our Linda Liddle concept, and put the pitch and screenplay together.”
Acclaimed filmmaker Johannes Roberts, the director and co-writer of Primate calls the movie his love letter to the first horror film he ever saw: Cujo. “For me, it opened up a whole new kind of horror based in real situations, not vampires and monsters,” he explains. “I instinctively understood the way that the director Lewis Teague and the cinematographer Jan de Bont were manipulating the audience — I knew right then that I wanted to direct films like that.”
Mercy screenwriter Marco van Belle explains that he melded old and new ideas for his forward-thinking script — and then watched as real life caught up with this kinetic mystery thriller. “When I found a news report about an AI judge being created in Estonia to handle decision-making in civil cases, I saw the incredible potential to reinvigorate the legal thriller/courtroom drama genre by framing a trial within an AI court.”
“Evil isn’t always going to put on a scary uniform,” writer-director James Vanderbilt says of Nuremberg. “It’s not always going to announce itself. It can be insidious. It can be – as Göring was – the nicest guy at the dinner party. That’s a much scarier thought than good guys versus bad guys.”
“When I initially discussed 28 Years Later: The Bone Temple with Danny Boyle and Alex Garland, I told them, ‘I’m going to make it my own. I’m not going to try to make ‘a Danny Boyle movie.’ Because that’s impossible to make,” says director Nia DaCosta. “I could really put my imprint on it – to let my freak flag fly – and be visually adventurous and matching that with more classical filmmaking.”
“The American Dream is such a powerful story, and after the war, dreaming big became an international sensation alongside this new idea that individuals make history and play a crucial role in shaping and reshaping the world,” says writer-director Josh Safdie of Marty Supreme. “Marty represents the confidence, cockiness, and ambition that America expressed in the postwar years.”
“Sharing a brutal prison existence allows the two characters in this film to strip away all the markers and classifications society imposes on them – class, ideology, sexuality, gender – and see each other purely as individuals. It’s still a revolutionary idea, and I’m proud that people are responding to it,” says writer-director Bill Condon of Kiss Of The Spider Woman
“We want to push the boundaries of storytelling and captivate audiences,” says James Cameron of Avatar: The Way Of The Water. “The broader audience only cares about a story, the characters, and how the film makes them feel. I keep that in mind first and foremost every single day.”
“We root for underdogs because their struggle is our song. We need to see real people triumph over adversity — not just superheroes in capes. I need to believe, with all the problems we face in this country, that the American Dream is still possible,” says writer director Craig Brewer of Song Sung Blue
In Knives Out and Glass Onion: A Knives Out Mystery, Rian Johnson wrote mysteries so complicated that only Benoit Blanc could solve them. Johnson’s latest chapter, Wake Up Dead Man: A Knives Out Mystery, gives Blanc a run for his money, presenting him with his most layered and unexpected case to date. “This was the hardest script I have ever had to write,” says the twice Oscar–nominated filmmaker.
“I think, for all of us, there’s a gap between who we are deep down and who we present ourselves to be, and this varies in terms of all the different roles we play in our lives. And as we get older and gain more experience, and maybe wisdom, how do we re-meet and redefine the person that we are?” says writer-director Noah BaumbachJay Kelly, co-writing the screenplay with Emily Mortimer (in her screenwriting debut).
“Greg and I have been working together now for about 15 years, and we’ve written many scripts together. Train Dreams was unique because we had never adapted a work of fiction before. We try to bring a deep level of research to what we do, and this film was no different, but it’s hard to research something that’s about a time gone by, and also based on a work of fiction,” says Clint Bentley, who co-wrote the film with Greg Kwedar
“My dad really started to inhabit the characters, especially Ray, speaking as him during the writing process. That was when I realised this was going to be its own kind of special beast. Working with him taught me so much as a writer and storyteller; by the time we got to set, we had a shorthand for everything,” says screenwriter Ronan Day-Lewis, who co-wrote Anemone with Daniel Day-Lewis, inspired by the lingering scars of the Troubles in Northern Ireland.
“Blue Moon is a chamber piece on the brutal architecture of artistic mourning… it deals with a trauma that is, in a way, two‑fold: not just a business split, but an artistic divorce between two men who defined an era together,” says writer-director Richard Linklater
“I’ve dreamed all my life of making rom coms in the vein of Lubitsch, Wilder, and Sturges,” says director David Freyne. “I adore that era when people believed rom coms could say everything, could be the deepest films, no matter how feathery their touch. And here was my chance. Eternity might be set in the afterlife, but what mattered to me is the characters are caught up in conflicts that feel very human and very true to our experiences.”
“My goal in expanding on Mason Deaver’s novel into a cinematic universe was to examine how acts of love, compassion, and service towards family—chosen and blood—could either endanger a child or embolden them to flourish, to offer audiences a contained and simple character study on becoming. It was important for me to tell this story authentically and not fall into the trap of dramatising Ben’s gender or coming out too much. Viewing anybody solely through the lens of their gender or sexuality diminishes their vast and complex humanity,” says writer-director Tommy Dorfman of I Wish You The Best
Guillermo del Toro’s Frankensteinisinspired by Mary Shelley’s seminal 1818 novel of the same name. “I’ve lived with Mary Shelley’s creation all my life,” says del Toro. “For me, it’s the Bible. But I wanted to make it my own, to sing it back in a different key with a different emotion. Mary Shelley’s masterpiece is rife with questions that burn brightly in my soul: existential, tender, savage, doomed questions that only burn in a young mind and only adults and institutions believe they can answer,” del Toro explains. “For me, only monsters hold the secrets I long for.”
“Once I read the script, I jumped in. Regretting You is a coming-of-age story about relationships between parents and children growing up, like my previous films Stuck in Love and The Fault in Our Stars. I have always been, and always will be, attracted to movies about families, specifically kids discovering that their parents are fallible. That’s an important moment in anybody’s life,” says director Josh Boone.
“In the world that we live in now, people live in certain bubbles that have been enhanced by technology,” visionary director Yorgos Lanthimos says. “Having certain ideas about people is reinforced depending on which bubble you live in, creating this big chasm between people. I wanted to challenge the viewer about the things that we’re very certain about, the judgment calls that you make about certain kinds of people. Bugonia is a very interesting reflection of our society and the conflict in our contemporary world.”
“Beginning production on Springsteen: Deliver Me from Nowhere is an incredibly humbling and thrilling journey,” says writer-director Scott Cooper. “Bruce Springsteen’s ‘Nebraska’ has profoundly shaped my artistic vision. The album’s raw, unvarnished portrayal of life’s trials and resilience resonates deeply with me. Our film aims to capture that same spirit, bringing Warren Zanes’ compelling narrative of Bruce’s life to the screen with authenticity and hope, honouring Bruce’s legacy in a transformative cinematic experience.”
“From 1985 to 1994, my mother worked for the British Board of Film Classification. Each day, she would watch a film to determine its appropriate level of censorship and then, at night, for my bedtime story, recite the plot to the movie she had seen that day. I would fall asleep, visualising these narratives, dreaming about the T-1000 or Nakatomi Plaza and then later I would get to see these characters and locations realised on celluloid. This practice spawned an inevitable life-long obsession with cinema,” says director Max Minghella, whose film Shell is a love letter to those bedtime stories.
Scott Derrickson and C. Robert Cargill
“With Black Phone 2, we were able to keep building on characters rooted in our own childhoods and what it was like growing up in the ’70s and ‘80s,” says writer-producer C. Robert Cargill. “We have been through a lot together and are as close personally as we are professionally. What keeps it creatively fulfilling is the material, of course. It is always about telling a good story. That drives everything,” says writer-producer-director Scott Derrickson.
“I wanted to design something new, but familiar,” says Norwegian-born director Joachim Rønning about TRON Ares. “What drew me to the project was the mix of the digital and real worlds. Having a Program exist in the real world was interesting for me – I hadn’t seen that before. And the idea of Ares finding out what it means to be human, what it takes to be human, was fascinating.”
There was something really complicated about Mark Kerr that I wanted to explore,” says writer-director / editor Benny Safdie of The Smashing Game. “And there was something about Dwayne, too. He has this image of himself out in the public, but as he spoke to me about Mark, and as he talked about this movie, oh my God! I realised there was a whole other side to him that we could explore together.”
“I believe that the strongest case of the theatrical experience can be made with horror films. We all seek the therapeutic experience of facing our worst, darkest, most secret terrors in the safe environment of a movie theatre,” says director Renny Harlin of The Strangers – Chapter 2. “We can scream, cry, hide our eyes, or even laugh at the uncontrollable and life-threatening scenes that unfold in front of us. In a movie theatre, it is all a communal experience.”
“Our past absolutely defines everything we do in the present. We can’t help it. We’re made by the events of our past, so there’s no escaping it,” says writer-director Andrew Haig of All Of Us Strangers. “I am fascinated by that person who is trying to live authentically, but they are on the outside of society—so how do they manage in the world around them?”
“I started working on One Battle After Another 20 years ago to write an action car-chase movie, and I returned to it every two or three years. At the same time, this was in the early 2000s, I had the notion to adapt Thomas Pynchon’s Vineland, a book about the 1960s, which he wrote in the `80s. So, I was trying to decide what the story meant another 20 years later. So really for 20 years I had been pulling on all these different threads. Vineland was going to be hard to adapt. Instead, I stole the parts that really resonated with me and started putting all these ideas together. With his blessing,” says writer-director-producer Paul Thomas Anderson.
“As a kid growing up in the 80s and 90s, the buddy cop genre and road movies were more popular than ever before, and they had a major influence on me when it came to the kind of films I wanted to make. Like a lot of people, I was charmed by the idea of taking two individuals from different walks of life and forcing them together. As soon as my agents sent me the script of London Calling, I was all in. It took the best elements of the buddy genre, stuffed it into a road movie, and encompassed themes of family, aging, and identity,” says director Allan Ungar
“Over the course of my career, I’ve tried to bounce around different genres and stories, but they always seem to retain one common denominator – characters that are simply trying their best to do the right thing. I find there to be such a beautiful dignity to it. I felt like I had an idea of what I was going to be getting from a movie called The Threesome and then was given something much more sophisticated, tender and nuanced,” says director Chad Hartigan.
“I’m one of those guys who usually loves the book and hates the movie—so with The Long Walk we had to find a way to be really, really loyal to the DNA of the story,” says screenwriter JT Mollner. “What makes it special is this hint of nihilism, but then a tiny bit of hope—this weird amalgamation of things that Stephen King was obviously feeling as a young man. This disillusionment with America, and him creating this sort of hyperbolic version of it.”
“The real challenge is in structure,” says writer Julian Fellowes about writing Downton Abbey. “When you have a series, you don’t have to give every character a story every week. You can have different emphases. Whereas in a film, everyone has to have their crack at the whip. Everyone has to have an active part in the story.”
“In my movies, if there’s a real case, I’m going to do a deep dive into it, and meet and talk to as many people involved as I can,” says Director / Executive Producer Michael Chaves of The Conjuring: Last Rites. “There’s also obviously research into the period—in The Nun II, I went through all kinds of great 1950s photography that we leaned into as we were making the film. So, we looked at the period, but I also did a lot of Zoom interviews with the four Smurl sisters. Talking to them about their experience was really powerful.”
“Together is a film about the potential horror of sharing a life with someone; the lingering anxieties of commitment writ large. It’s about co-dependency, monogamy, romances and resentments — and that at a certain point, can we truly tell where one life ends and our other half’s begins? What draws me into a project is finding a one-off, hooky premise, and squeezing that premise for all its juice. Despite the personally resonant and (hopefully) realistically observed characters at the centre of this story, I am so proud how we escalate the horror into things I’ve never seen before on screen, ” says writer-director Michael Shanks.
For Charlie Huston, Caught Stealing isn’t just a darkly humorous heist story— it’s a project that’s near and dear to their heart. “I wrote this book way back in 1998, the year the story is set in,” they say. “There’s a ton of my own lived experience in the story’s main character. When Darren Aronofsky reached out to me 18 years ago to say that he was interested in the book, it was super exciting. I loved the idea of Darren taking his visual sensibility and the dynamism of his storytelling and applying it to this story.”
Tony McNamara believes one of the best things about being a screenwriter is seeing your words brought to life by the people playing the characters you have spent so long imagining in your head. When it came to The Roses, that first day on set was perhaps one of the best. “We wanted to make a very smart adult comedy that goes dark. And I feel like there haven’t been that many of those for a while,” says McNamara. “And we wanted to make a really good comedy about marriage that also had a good heart about how hard that is. We wanted to make something that people could relate to. I know we all did.”
“I’ve always liked Superman. I think as a kid I was really attracted to the Superman family comics, with Superman and Supergirl and Krypto and the whole gang. It was at a time when I was starting to become more aware of how important films were to me in my life, and that was different from how important films were to other people in their lives,” says writer/director/producer James Gunn.
“When I’m writing, I have a rule for myself—I don’t want to know what’s going to happen at all. I always just start. So, I sat down to write what would become this movie, and the first thing I type is this little girl telling a story and these kids who go running out of the house. And I’m thinking as I’m writing, “This is cool. I hope I figure this out.” And I didn’t really figure it out until it was time in the script to answer that question. Basically, I’m writing on a tightrope, hoping that it is revealed to me. Luckily, in this case, it was. But I was just writing to get this feeling out, and it ended up turning into Weapons. I think when I wrote Barbarian, it was kind of a similar thing. I sat down and started writing for the fun of it, without any idea of what it was going to be,” says writer-director Zach Cregger
Filmmaker & Writer Vault
Films listed alphabetically. Click on title to read more about how the films were written and made.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Supporting & Functional Characters: How to Enhance Your Main Story
Supporting and functional characters help anchor your story. They are the chorus line that makes the narrative breathe. Without them, the world feels flat and incomplete.
Supporting and functional characters surround the protagonist and antagonist. They shape the emotional, thematic, and narrative texture. Offer contrast, pressure, companionship, or clarity. They may not drive the plot, but they are essential to its depth and momentum. They reveal sides of the main characters that would otherwise stay hidden.
Supporting characters deepen the world. Sharpen the protagonist. Carry emotional or thematic ideas that the story cannot express directly. They influence the protagonist from the edges. Add pressure. Offer comfort. Reveal blind spots. Expand the emotional range of the narrative. They act as mirrors. Catalysts. Counterweights. Each one shifts the protagonist’s path in ways the protagonist cannot achieve alone. They make the world feel lived‑in, relational, and human.
Supporting and functional characters add depth to a story. Texture. Structure. They widen the world beyond the protagonist’s perspective. Carry information. Pressure. Symbolism. A social context that the main character alone cannot hold. Whether they appear briefly or throughout the story, they shape turning points. Illuminate themes. Heighten emotional and moral stakes.They form the quiet architecture beneath the plot. Subtle but essential. Ensuring the story resonates far beyond the protagonist’s arc.
Several types of supporting characters that strengthen a story
Allies stand beside the protagonist. Share their goals, like ‘Chewbacca’ in ‘Star Wars’, ‘Samwise Gamgee’ in ‘The Lord of the Rings’, or ‘Horatio’ in ‘Hamlet’.
Mentors offer wisdom. Challenges that help the protagonist grow, such as ‘Alfred’ in ‘The Dark Knight’, ‘Atticus Finch’ in ‘To Kill a Mockingbird’, or ‘Linda Loman’ in ‘Death of a Salesman’. Confidants give the protagonist a safe space to express their inner thoughts, like ‘Donkey’ in ‘Shrek’, ‘Dr. Watson’ in ‘Sherlock Holmes’, or ‘Brutus’ in ‘Julius Caesar’ before his betrayal.
Love interests complicate or deepen the protagonist’s arc, such as ‘Ilsa’ in ‘Casablanca’, ‘Elizabeth Bennet’ in ‘Pride and Prejudice’, or ‘Eliza Doolittle’ in ‘Pygmalion’ and ‘My Fair Lady’. Foils reveal the protagonist’s strengths and weaknesses through contrast, like ‘Apollo Creed’ in ‘Rocky’, ‘Tom Buchanan’ in ‘The Great Gatsby’, or ‘Iago’ in ‘Othello’.
Sidekicks support the protagonist. Highlight their qualities, such as ‘Piglet’ in ‘Winnie‑the‑Pooh’ or ‘Sancho Panza’ in ‘Man of La Mancha’.
Secondary antagonists are not the main villain but still create obstacles, like ‘Anton Chigurh’ in ‘No Country for Old Men’ or ‘Judge Turpin’ in ‘Sweeney Todd’.
Functional characters serve a clear narrative purpose. They advance the plot. Deliver information. Raise stakes. Embody themes. Trigger turning points. Represent social forces. Their presence strengthens the structure of the story.
Characters who deliver information help the audience understand the world, stakes, or context, such as ‘Basil Exposition’ in ‘Austin Powers’, ‘Mr. Collins’ in ‘Pride and Prejudice’, or the Stage Manager in ‘Our Town’.
Characters who raise the stakes make the protagonist’s journey more urgent, like ‘Rue’ in ‘The Hunger Games’, ‘Mercutio’ in ‘Romeo and Juliet’, or ‘Inspector Goole’ in ‘An Inspector Calls’. Characters who embody a theme make an idea visible, such as the ‘Joker’ representing chaos in ‘The Dark Knight’, the ‘Ghost’ representing memory in ‘A Christmas Carol’, or the ‘Ghost’ representing revenge in ‘Hamlet’.
Characters who trigger turning points shift the protagonist’s direction, like the propos team in ‘Mockingjay’, Mr. Darcy’s letter in ‘Pride and Prejudice’, or the Messenger’ in ‘Oedipus Rex’.
Characters who represent a social force stand in for institutions or ideologies, like the bureaucrats in ‘Brazil’.
Some characters appear only brieflybut carry symbolic or emotional weight, such as the girl in the red coat in ‘Schindler’s List’, the drunk man in ‘Gatsby’s library’, or the boy delivering the letter in ‘A Doll’s House’.
Characters who sharpen the story’s architecture clarify structure or reinforce themes, like ‘Brooks’ in ‘The Shawshank Redemption’, the townspeople in ‘To Kill a Mockingbird’, or the chorus in ‘Antigone’.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Stereotypes are the unsung architecture of storytelling
Stereotypes are narrative shortcuts. Cultural templates that viewers/readers instantly recognise. They compress identity into a familiar silhouette: the jock, the nerd, the femme fatale, the corrupt politician, the anxious mother, the stoic detective.
They shape casting decisions, frame audience expectations, and anchor entire genres. Their real value lies in how they can be bent, twisted, or broken to reveal something startlingly human. In today’s crowded narrative landscape, the stories that resonate most are the ones that start with a type and end with a person.
In storytelling, stereotypes function as pre‑loaded meaning
The moment a character enters the frame, the audience believes they already know who this person is, how they behave, and what role they will play.
In Film, TV, And Novels, Stereotypes Are Powerful because they allow writers to establish character quickly. Create ensemble dynamics efficiently. Then fracture expectations to reveal depth, contradiction, and humanity.
Contemporary storytelling thrives on this dance between the expected and the unexpected.
In film, stereotypes help orient the viewer in seconds. Think of ‘Knives Out’: the influencer, the trust‑fund heir, the self‑made striver, the brittle matriarch. Each enters the story as a type, but the narrative gains momentum as their contradictions surface.
In TV, stereotypes help build ensemble chemistry. ‘Stranger Things’ begins with the nerds, the jock, the loner, the popular girl, the outcast—yet the show’s emotional power comes from how these types evolve under pressure.
Novels use stereotypes differently: they often begin with a familiar archetype to anchor the reader, then use interiority to complicate the silhouette. Sally Rooney’s ‘Normal People’ starts with the “popular boy” and the “strange, quiet girl,” but the novel’s intimacy dismantles those labels.
5 Stereotypes that prove why they are the scaffolding that allows originality to emerge
Social stereotypes reflect broad cultural categories: the overworked single mother, the tech bro, the influencer, the burnout artist. In ‘The Bear’, Sydney initially appears as the “ambitious young chef,” but the show fractures this by revealing her vulnerability, anxiety, and deep creative hunger.
Professional stereotypes rely on occupational shorthand: the cynical detective, the ruthless lawyer, the idealistic teacher. In ‘Better Call Saul’, Jimmy McGill begins as the “slippery lawyer,” but the series reveals a tragic blend of ingenuity, longing, and self‑sabotage.
Genre stereotypes are tied to narrative tradition: the chosen one, the mentor, the comic relief, the final girl. In ‘The Hunger Games’, Katniss begins as the “reluctant hero,” but her emotional detachment, trauma, and moral ambiguity complicate the archetype.
Cultural or familial stereotypes emerge from relational roles: the golden child, the black sheep, the prodigy, the caretaker. In ‘Everything Everywhere All at Once’, Joy begins as the “rebellious daughter,” but the film fractures this by exploring generational trauma and existential despair.
Ensemble stereotypes are the backbone of group storytelling: the leader, the brain, the heart, the wildcard, the sceptic. In ‘Brooklyn Nine‑Nine’, each character begins as a type—the goofball detective, the stern captain, the try‑hard overachiever—but the comedy deepens as their contradictions surface.
5 Reasons Why Stereotypes Strengthen Narrative
They createimmediate clarity. Audiences understand the social dynamics of a scene before a single line of dialogue is spoken. This frees the writer to focus on emotional complexity rather than exposition.
Stereotypes generatecontrast and friction. When a group of types is placed together—like in ‘IT or ‘The White Lotus’—their differences create natural conflict, humour, and thematic resonance.
Stereotypes allow forefficient world‑building. A noir detective, a Regency debutante, a sci‑fi engineer—each carries genre expectations that help define the story’s tone.
They createopportunities for surprise. When a stereotype fractures, the audience experiences revelation. The tough guy cries. The princess fights back. The villain shows mercy. The comic relief becomes the emotional core. These fractures are not gimmicks; they are the moments where character becomes human.
Stereotypes help writers exploresocial commentary. By presenting a familiar type and then complicating it, the narrative can interrogate cultural assumptions, biases, and inherited myths.
Crafting effective stereotypes
Identify the familiar silhouette. Choose a type the viewer/reader will recognise instantly: the perfectionist, the slacker, the prodigy, the cynic. This silhouette should be clear enough to anchor the character’s initial presence.
Define the internal contradiction. Every stereotype becomes interesting when it hides something. The perfectionist fears failure. The slacker fears responsibility. The cynic longs for connection. The prodigy feels like an imposter. This contradiction is the fracture point.
Show the mask before the truth. Let the character perform the stereotype early in the story. This performance is what the world expects of them—and what they expect of themselves. The fracture should emerge gradually through behaviour, vulnerability, or crisis.
Let the fracture reshape the ensemble. When one stereotype breaks, it forces others to reveal themselves. Ensemble storytelling thrives on this chain reaction. A leader’s failure forces the follower to step up. A clown’s heartbreak forces the group to take him seriously. A villain’s hesitation forces the hero to reconsider their assumptions.
Allow evolution without erasing the silhouette. A stereotype should not disappear; it should deepen. The character remains recognisable, but now the audience understands the emotional architecture beneath the type. This creates continuity, complexity, and authenticity.
Stereotypes endure because they are narrative tools rooted in shared cultural understanding.
They give writers a foundation on which to build nuance, contradiction, and emotional truth. When used with intention, stereotypes do not flatten characters; they illuminate them. They allow stories to begin with the familiar and move toward the profound.
Stereotypes survive because they work. They organise chaos, anchor ensembles, and give audiences a foothold in the story. But their real value emerges when the writer pushes past the expected. In that tension—between the type and the person—modern storytelling finds its sharpest edge.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Variations on a Theme – A poetically charged South African drama
Variations on a Theme is an award‑winning, poetically charged South African drama that has already established itself as one of the country’s most significant contemporary films.
It’s the second feature from 2026 Standard Bank Young Artist of the Year Jason Jacobs and co-director Devon Delmar. The duo debuted at Venice with Carissa and went on to win the top prize at Rotterdam with Variations on a Theme.
An elderly goat herder in the mountains of Namaqualand, South Africa, falls victim to a scam promising long-overdue reparations for her father’s WWII service. As she waits for money that will never come, the disruptions of her 80th birthday threaten to strip away the last of her independence. Structured as a series of recurring visual ‘variations’, the film transforms repetition into revelation to frame a portrait of waiting, endurance, and loss.
The film unfolds over a recurring visual structure inspired by the musical compositional form of ‘Theme and Variations’. Each day repeats the same series of compositions, a certain number of fixed frames captured over five days, within which the smallest details shift and transform. The framing remains constant, but the life within each shot changes: gestures, conversations, and small movements become the material of variation. These variations accumulate new meaning, tracing the rhythm of waiting and the subtle peaks and troughs that define her days. Shot with a painterly stillness and accompanied by a score that develops through its own musical variations, Variations on a Theme observes how a life on the margins continues to replay the same unresolved histories, each repetition both the same and entirely new.
Variations on a Theme will screen at The Labia and Ster-Kinekor V&A Nouveau in Cape Town, as well as at The Bioscope and Ster-Kinekor Rosebank Nouveau in Johannesburg. This follows a three-night red carpet community screening in Kharkams in March 2026, where the film’s awards were celebrated with the cast and community.
Context & Themes
A place rarely seen. A story deeply felt
Variations on a Theme is set in the mountains of Kharkams in South Africa. An elderly goat herder, Ouma Hettie, falls victim to a scam promising long-overdue reparations for her father’s WWII service. As she waits for money that will never come, the disruptions of her 80th birthday begin to threaten the last of her independence. Structured as a series of recurring visual ‘variations’, the film transforms repetition into revelation, framing a portrait of waiting, endurance, and loss.
A personal story rooted in family and memory
At the heart of the film lies a deeply personal connection. For Jacobs, Ouma Hettie is his grandmother. Her presence grounds the film in lived experience, while the story itself remains firmly fictional. Ouma Hettie stands as a symbol of matriarchal strength, reflecting countless South African mothers and grandmothers who carry histories that have never been formally acknowledged.
“My great-grandfather fought for the Allies in World War II,” says Jacobs, who narrates the film. “He was 19 when he signed up. Like many others, he must have returned with his head full of nighttime terrors, of artillery fire and screams heard in dark and foreign lands, of bombs, falling planes and burning cities. His payment after four years of service? At the harbour in Cape Town, before heading home to his goats, he received a pair of boots and a bicycle.”
Reparations and the politics of waiting
“While our film is fictional, it’s based on lived experiences,” says Delmar. “In many ways, these are variations on a theme. This community is still waiting, hoping and persevering, just as they have been since 1945.”
In this way, the film asks a difficult question. What does justice look like when generations have been made to wait?
From Kharkams to international red carpets
A defining aspect of the project is its commitment to community upliftment. Beyond the screen, the filmmakers and the wider KRAAL team, Cleveland Hopp, Woudine Dirkse, Adre Links, and Gladwin van Niekerk, have actively invested in skills development in Kharkams and the Northern Cape. Through theatre productions, film shoots, and hands-on collaborations, the community has developed a deeper understanding of collaborative creative work and its possibilities.
Devon Delmar
Jason Jacobs
Director’s Statement – Jason Jacobs and Devon Delmar
Jason Jacobs and Devon Delmar are co-writers and co-directors under the collective KRAAL, based between Namaqualand and Cape Town, South Africa. Their productions reflect a strong connection to local culture and the natural world, integrating themes of consciousness and the non-human in their narratives. The duo’s projects include the feature films CARISSA, selected for Orizzonti at the Venice International Film Festival 2024 and VARIATIONS ON A THEME, winner of the Tiger Award at the International Film Festival Rotterdam 2026. Their third feature, ALL I KNOW, will be released in late 2026.
Our approach to this story was gentle. Having Jason (co-writer/co-director) as her grandson, Ouma Hettie is used to the camera and film crews in her house. Whenever the camera is turned on her, she goes about her life as usual. The cinematography in this film was to have a light touch, not announcing itself loudly, but allowing things to occur spontaneously across the wide, still anamorphic frame. If you’re patient enough to wait for it, the magic occurs by itself. As Ouma Hettie’s memories come to the surface, the magic seeps out of the mundane, as though it’s always there underneath the surface, it just depends on how long you wait for it to reveal itself. Picture yourself sitting in the veld; your initial presence disturbs the quiet stirrings of animals and plants, but if you’re still for long enough and breathe gently, they start to emerge again out of the corner of your eye.
The main concern of our story is memory, and the gradual fragmentation thereof into old age. Ouma Hettie’s childhood upbringing as a goat herder between the mountains of Namaqualand played an enormous role in shaping who she is: self-reliant, stubborn, and wise as befits her years. As she was in a sense ‘tuned’ by the plants of the veld in her youth, spending long hours in solitude yet nevertheless in the wisdom of their company, we wanted this film to trace those lineages that ultimately go back to her father, a man whose story was not only important to that community but to the tumultuous history of this country.
Where would the descendants (like Ouma Hettie, Oom Hans, etc) be now had the veterans, who had sacrificed so much, been treated fairly upon their return to South Africa? The descendants are now dependent on grants that never arrive. We are showing a large swathe of the community in their domestic setups, and all of them are connected in a big way to the war and the legacies left behind by their fathers and grandfathers, whose spirits loom large over the story. The descendants are waiting, constantly on the edge of being acknowledged, but never quite there.
Across the five story days in the film, their desperation builds and spills over into an uncertain future. Variations on a Theme might be the first film to ever have been written entirely using Google Sheets. We plotted the beginnings of the narrative against the x-axis (number of days) and y-axis (scenes), and each scene was written like a flashcard. These ideas were later fleshed out on set and in conversations with the men and women whom each scene depicted, some of them playing themselves, others bringing to life fictive characters like Trompie, who digs a hole in his bedroom to find lost diamonds. On our recces, the film crew walked around Ouma Hettie’s village of Kharkams in the Northern Cape of South Africa and took photographs of places where stories could be told. Or perhaps more accurately, where stories could both be brought to and found. We came away with a total of thirty-five still images, and in each frame composed a new narrative, strung across five narrative days, that permutates and develops as it goes. All of them interweave with each other to tell stories that all speak to waiting, to memory, to desire and the end thereof. We wanted to capture the ebbs and flows of the village, catching glimpses into real and fictional lives, the magic and the mundane of each domestic setup.
With each frame, there are subtle and not-so-subtle variations that draw attention to themselves for merely existing, for being something out of the ordinary. We found that simply shifting a jewellery box, moving a picture frame on a cupboard, or placing a chair slightly askew altered our perceptions of that composition from the one that came before, such that it felt as though we were looking at completely different frames every day. It’s a film of details. Life on set across the five days became a thing of routine (it didn’t go unnoticed that we, the crew, were, as in the film, living out variations of our own). The camera tripod was set at the same spot, same level, and same specific lens (depending on the scene) over and over in each location until it became second nature to us, and we were becoming ever more sensitive to the spaces we were capturing and/or creating. Kharkams in the winter can be bitingly cold, particularly when the mists drift over the hills and cover the village like a thick icy blanket. The way the light fell in the mornings, for example, shifted every day and brought new surprises, new things unseen in the landscape.
Mikhaila Alyssa Smith composed a stunningly original score that mimics the structure of the story. Her score establishes a theme and she allows it to evolve and splinter off into new directions as Ouma Hettie finds and loses things to hold onto in her life. Inspired by such compositions as Bach’s Goldberg Variations, the holy minimalism of Arvo Pärt whose music springs from a mathematical precision, and the sombre scores of Eleni Karaindrou, the shape of Mikhaila’s music is, over the course of the film, intimately in sympathy with the structure of the story as a whole.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Michael: Reimagining a Legend for a New Generation
Michael is the cinematic portrayal of the life and legacy of one of the most influential artists the world has ever known. The film tells the story of Michael Jackson’s life beyond the music, tracing his journey from the discovery of his extraordinary talent as the lead of the Jackson Five, to the visionary artist whose creative ambition fueled a relentless pursuit to become the biggest entertainer in the world.
Highlighting both his life off-stage and some of the most iconic performances from his early solo career, the film gives audiences a front-row seat to Michael Jackson as never before. This is where his story begins.
When Michael hit the stage, the world stopped. He was plugged directly into the rhythm and soul of his times. The consummate entertainer. A singer spinning melody into pure emotion. A visionary of fusing sound and spectacle. A trailblazer shattering barriers. A self-reinventor who made us all question what we saw in the mirror. But among all the iconic performances and immortal songs of Michael Jackson, perhaps his greatest legacy of all is the electric current of joyful energy he continues to unleash into the universe.
That creative rocket fuel burns at the heart of Michael, a thrillingly immersive portrait of how the one-time child prodigy transformed himself into the undeniable King of Pop. A show-stopping experience, wall-to-wall with music, dance, and moments destined to be personal to audiences, this is a different kind of origin story. It’s the birth of the globe’s first modern megastar. But equally it’s the start of a personal vision of hope, perseverance, and one world united under a groove that set off a cultural earthquake still reverberating now.
The film drops into Michael’s visceral reality from the day The Jackson 5 was formed to launching his solo career into the stratosphere. It tracks his trajectory as he found and fought for his creative vision, shattered walls of inequality, and set new cultural codes. Laid bare is his conflicting search for freedom and connection. But on stage, Michael finds both, as he exchanges astronomical levels of energy with ecstatic audiences.
For Producer Graham King, who spearheaded the film, the chance to bring a sweeping mix of generations into movie theatres was exhilarating. “No one ever brings as many different kinds of people together through music as Michael,” King notes. “We took that idea to heart. But there’s also a whole new generation that never had the chance to see him perform live. And that really drove us to try to bring his most iconic moments to life with all the scope, scale, and love that we saw Michael bring to everything he did.”
Michael’s music, moves, style, and attitude have come to mean many different things to billions of people from every background and corner of the map. But no one could possibly have foreseen in 1967, when The Jackson 5 first started performing on the segregation-era Chitlin Circuit, that the group’s 9-year-old Black lead singer would soon become one of the most transfixing celebrities.
Jaafar Jackson never tried to impersonate Michael. Rather, he set out to channel his uncle’s essence and enigma anew. “Study the greats and become greater,” Michael often said. True to that idea, Jaafar approached the role with uncompromising commitment to researching, rehearsing, and exploring.
During a two-year preparation he danced every single day until his feet were numb, sitting down only to dive headlong into Michael’s private writings and reams of footage. Once on the set, bolstered by an ensemble led by Colman Domingo, Nia Long, Juliano Valdi, KeiLyn Durrel Jones, Laura Harrier, and Miles Teller, Jaafar would become uncanny in the way he filtered Michael’s magical light through his own.
“I hope both long-time fans and brand-new fans come away feeling that essence, that energy, that love that Michael showed through his songs and performances,” says Jaafar. “The movie lets you see the Michael you’ve never seen — to see his creative process, to see more of who he was as a person and how he moves the world. On a big screen with great sound, you’ll feel like you’re there on stage taking it all in with him.”
Directed by Antoine Fuqua, the award-winning filmmaker of Training Day, Olympus Has Fallen and The Equalizer franchise, from a screenplay by three-time Academy Award nominee John Logan (Gladiator, The Aviator), the film is produced by Academy Awardwinner Graham King (The Departed, Bohemian Rhapsody), John Branca (executive producer This Is It, Thriller 40) and John Mcclain (executive producer This Is It, Michael Jackson Live at Wembley July 16, 1988).
Crafting the Screenplay
Graham King – the Academy Award-winning producer of The Departed (Best Picture, 2006), who also received Best Picture Oscar® nominations for The Aviator (2004), Hugo (2011), and Bohemian Rhapsody (2018) – is renowned for daring to take on biopics of legends whose myths grew so huge they nearly eclipsed the human inside them. “Whether it be Howard Hughes, Freddie Mercury, or Muhammad Ali, I’m always interested in the hidden, human sides of icons that people haven’t seen before,” King explains.
Graham King – the Academy Award®-winning producer of The Departed (Best Picture, 2006), who also received Best Picture Oscar® nominations for The Aviator (2004), Hugo (2011),and Bohemian Rhapsody (2018) – is renowned for daring to take on biopics of legends whose myths grew so huge they nearly eclipsed the human inside them. “Whether it be Howard Hughes, Freddie Mercury, or Muhammad Ali, I’m always interested in the hidden, human sides of icons that people haven’t seen before,” King explains.
In the wake of Bohemian Rhapsody, King was deluged with offers for musical biopics. But the question churning in his mind was, “Where do I possibly go after someone like Freddie Mercury?” He went straight for the boldest idea. Having known the Jackson family since 1981, and a long-time fan of Michael, he knew exploring the phenomenon of perhaps the most indefinable superstar of all time could be daunting.
He started developing a script with someone he knew had the storytelling chops to find a way into the vastness: three-time Oscar®-nominated screenwriter and Tony Award®-winning playwright John Logan (Skyfall, The Aviator, Gladiator).
Logan aimed to get beyond the accolades — the 1 billion records sold worldwide, the 26 American Music Awards, the 13 GRAMMY Awards®, over30 Guinness World Records (including the Most Successful Entertainer of All Time), the humanitarian awards, and Hall of Fame inductions – to look at who Michael wanted to be and what he came to represent to those who said he transported them to another world. Rather than try to compress Jackson’s entire existence, the screenplay zeroed in on the most starkly transformative years: his evolution from a sensitive boy growing up in the public glare to a young man on fire, chasing true artistic freedom with a global audience who had never seen anything like him.
“What was behind all of that was the beating heart of a man who wanted to bring joy,” Logan explains. “He deeply believed in his music as a spiritual act, and that he truly felt that these songs could bring the whole world together, and could heal the world in a way.”
To understand that inner life, Logan immersed himself in research, including studying written artifacts from the private archive provided by the Michael Jackson Estate. “So when I started looking at Michael’s life, I did the due diligence that you do as a dramatist dealing with historical material. I went in and I read everything. And I looked at so much material on Michael, just hundreds of pages of notes he had written to himself, inspirational notes, song lyrics. How did a song like “Beat It” go from an initial idea to a final performance?” From that process, Logan began shaping the film’s musical moments not simply as spectacle but as narrative turning points. “Every song we chose and every performance we dramatized, was intended to take Michael on his personal journey.”
For Logan, that journey ultimately traces a clear and compelling arc. “And to me, it was a very straightforward journey. It was a man who had to become free. Because he came from nothing in Gary; he had a difficult relationship with his father, and The Jackson 5 made him a global superstar when he was 10. And the rest of the sweep of his life was about being free and finally being Michael Jackson, the solo artist. And to me, that’s a joyous story. And it’s a story about creativity. And as a writer, I found that irresistible.”
Jaafar Jackson as Michael Jackson in Michael. Photo Credit: Glen Wilson
John Logan is an acclaimed American screenwriter, playwright, and producer known for his elegant, emotionally layered storytelling across film, theatre, and television. Emerging from Chicago’s vibrant theatre scene, Logan first gained major attention in Hollywood with Any Given Sunday and Gladiator, the latter earning him an Academy Award nomination and establishing his reputation for crafting epic, character‑driven narratives. His versatility has led him to write across genres, from the operatic horror of Sweeney Todd to the intimate psychological drama of The Aviator and the sweeping historical romance of Hugo. Logan also penned the celebrated James Bond films Skyfall and Spectre, bringing a darker, more introspective tone to the franchise. Beyond film, he is a respected playwright, with works such as Red and Peter and Alice showcasing his command of language and emotional nuance. Known for his meticulous research and deep empathy for complex characters, Logan remains one of the most distinctive and sought‑after writers working today.
Antoine Fuqua is an American filmmaker celebrated for his muscular visual style, emotional intensity, and ability to draw powerful performances from his actors. Beginning his career directing music videos for artists such as Prince, Stevie Wonder, and Toni Braxton, Fuqua transitioned into feature filmmaking with a bold, kinetic sensibility that quickly set him apart. He achieved international acclaim with Training Day, which earned Denzel Washington an Academy Award and cemented Fuqua’s reputation for gritty, character‑driven drama. His filmography spans action, thriller, and biographical storytelling, including The Equalizer series, Southpaw, Emancipation, and The Magnificent Seven. Fuqua’s work is marked by a fascination with flawed heroes, moral ambiguity, and the tension between violence and redemption. His command of atmosphere and performance makes him a compelling choice for large‑scale, emotionally charged projects, and he continues to be one of Hollywood’s most dynamic and versatile directors.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Deep Water – A large‑scale survival spectacle
Deep Water is a large‑scale survival spectacle, merging disaster‑film adrenaline with creature‑feature terror to create a thriller that feels both classically engineered and sharply contemporary.
Thematically, Deep Water taps into the lineage of survival cinema, from The Poseidon Adventure to The Shallows, but reframes it through a contemporary lens: global travel as vulnerability, the ocean as an indifferent force, and cooperation as the only path through catastrophe.
Written by Pete Bridges, Shayne Armstrong, S.P. Krause, and Damien Power, the screenplay constructs a tight, escalating scenario: an international flight from Los Angeles to Shanghai is forced into an emergency landing in shark‑infested waters, leaving a diverse group of passengers to confront not only the sinking wreckage but the frenzy of predators drawn to the crash site.
Directed by Renny Harlin, the film was originally conceived as a sequel to Bait 3D, the project was shelved in 2014 due to its uncomfortable proximity to the disappearance of Malaysia Airlines Flight 370, only to be resurrected nearly a decade later with renewed cultural relevance, tapping into modern anxieties about travel, disaster, and the fragility of global transit systems.
Crafting the Screenplay
The screenplay for Deep Water was shaped through a multi‑writer, multi‑phase development process, with each writer contributing a different layer of tension, structure, and emotional clarity to a story that began as a high‑concept survival thriller and evolved into a full‑scale, character‑driven disaster film.
The earliest drafts were written by Pete Bridges, who established the film’s core engine: a commercial flight forced to crash‑land in shark‑infested waters, leaving a cross‑section of passengers trapped between the sinking wreckage and the predators circling below. Bridges’ speciality, tight, escalating survival scenarios, gave the script its foundational architecture: a ticking clock, a hostile environment, and a group of strangers forced into cooperation as the ocean becomes an active antagonist. His draft defined the film’s procedural spine, mapping out the physics of the crash, the mechanics of survival, and the shifting alliances among passengers.
Shayne Armstrong and S.P. Krause, long‑time collaborators known for genre work that blends spectacle with emotional stakes, were brought in to deepen the script’s character dynamics and psychological pressure. Their contribution focused on sharpening the ensemble: giving each passenger a distinct fear, flaw, or secret that surfaces under extreme stress. They strengthened the interpersonal conflicts, guilt, blame, leadership struggles, and moral fractures that erupt when survival becomes a zero‑sum game. Armstrong and Krause also refined the film’s rhythmic structure, ensuring that moments of terror, stillness, and human connection interlock cleanly, preventing the story from becoming a repetitive cycle of shark attacks. Their revisions helped transform the film from a simple creature thriller into a human drama set against a monstrous backdrop.
Damien Power, a filmmaker with a strong background in psychological tension (Killing Ground, No Exit), contributed the final layer: emotional realism and atmospheric dread. Power’s work emphasised the sensory experience of survival, the cold, the exhaustion, the disorientation, the creeping panic of open water. His revisions honed the script’s tonal consistency, grounding the spectacle in lived‑in detail and ensuring the characters’ decisions feel authentic rather than engineered. Power also strengthened the film’s thematic through‑line: the ocean as an indifferent force, and survival as a test of both instinct and empathy. His influence is felt in the screenplay’s quieter moments — the confessions, the reconciliations, the moral compromises — that give the film weight beyond its action.
Together, Bridges, Armstrong, Krause, and Power crafted a screenplay that operates on three levels at once: Procedural survival (Bridges), Character‑driven escalation (Armstrong & Krause), and Atmospheric, psychological tension (Power).
This layered approach allowed director Renny Harlin to stage the film as both a muscular disaster spectacle and a claustrophobic human drama. The screenplay’s collaborative evolution mirrors the film’s own thematic core: survival is never the work of one person, it’s a convergence of instincts, skills, and the will to keep moving even when the water keeps rising.
Pete Bridges is an Australian screenwriter known for high‑concept survival thrillers and muscular genre storytelling. His breakout came with the spec script The Fall, which drew industry attention for its tight structure and cinematic urgency. Bridges has since built a reputation for crafting narratives driven by escalating pressure, environmental hostility, and ordinary people pushed into extraordinary danger. As one of the writers of Deep Water (2026), he shaped the film’s core survival engine — the crash, the ocean, the ticking‑clock mechanics — grounding the spectacle in procedural realism. His work blends clean architecture with emotional stakes, making him a sought‑after voice in contemporary action‑thriller screenwriting.
Shayne Armstrong is an award‑winning Australian screenwriter whose work spans horror, thriller, and science fiction across film, television, and comics. Known for his long‑time writing partnership with S.P. Krause, Armstrong specialises in character‑driven genre storytelling that blends spectacle with psychological tension. His credits include internationally released features and acclaimed graphic‑novel work, reflecting a career rooted in both cinematic and illustrated narrative forms. On Deep Water (2026), Armstrong helped deepen the ensemble dynamics, sharpening the emotional fractures and moral conflicts that emerge when survival becomes a zero‑sum game. His writing is marked by precision, mood, and a keen instinct for human behaviour under pressure.
S.P. Krause is an Australian writer and long‑time collaborator of Shayne Armstrong, known for genre‑focused screenplays that combine tension, character complexity, and thematic depth. While his work spans film, television, and graphic storytelling, Krause’s hallmark is his ability to shape ensemble casts with clear emotional arcs and sharply defined interpersonal conflict. His contribution to Deep Water (2026) centres on refining character motivations and tightening the dramatic rhythm of the survival narrative, ensuring the film’s human stakes remain as gripping as its action. Krause’s writing reflects a deep interest in how people fracture, bond, and reveal themselves when placed under extreme duress.
Damien Power is an Australian filmmaker celebrated for tense, psychologically charged thrillers such as Killing Ground and No Exit. His work is defined by atmospheric dread, moral ambiguity, and a meticulous focus on how fear reshapes human behaviour. Power’s transition into studio‑scale storytelling has preserved his signature intensity while expanding his visual scope. As one of the writers on Deep Water (2026), he brought emotional realism and sensory detail to the screenplay, sharpening the film’s tone and grounding its spectacle in lived‑in human experience. Power’s voice is unmistakable: restrained, unsettling, and deeply attuned to the quiet moments that make terror resonate.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Backrooms – A horror inspired by an urban legend
From the mind of visionary YouTube creator Kane Parsons, making his feature-filmmaking debut, comes a dread-inducing cinematic nightmare, poised to define a new era in horror storytelling. Directed by Parsons from a script by Will Soodik (Westworld), based on the series by Parsons, Backrooms unveils previously unknown dimensions to Parsons’ chilling universe and brings the CG found-footage series into the live-action realm, announcing the arrival of a singular new voice in horror cinema.
“For me, Backrooms is the cumulative result of a societal exhaustion with this industrialised monoculture we’re slipping into,” says Parsons. “Repetition and patterns in society become like sensory deprivation — eventually the brain tries to find meaning and construct from all the incoherent noise. When people are isolated from society, they become disconnected and conspiratorial thinking arises. How terrifying would it be if that was your existence forever, and all you could do is experience it over and over again?”
The Backrooms series originated from a singular image of an empty yellow-walled room lit by fluorescent lights posted anonymously to 4chan in 2019. The image — later identified as a Wisconsin hobby shop photographed circa 2003 — became a creepypasta, or internet horror legend, taking on new life across message boards through its expanding lore and lexicon.
For example, “no-clipping,” or exiting the solid bounds of reality, grew out of the desolate expanse of drop ceilings, carpeted floors, and patterned walls that over time became the Backrooms.
Like any cultural phenomenon, the Backrooms started developing its own lingo. The phenomenon also cemented specific visual motifs. While there were numerous core elements the film adaptation had to get right in its journey from still image to web series to big screen, there was one supremely important element Parsons knew fans would intensely scrutinize on the big screen… the wallpaper.
“The wallpaper is there because it comes out of the original image and was always a key factor in describing the Backrooms,” says Parsons. “The wallpaper also works as a fingerprint of a location — it’s a kind of physical marker that helps underscore the idea that the Backrooms is building itself.”
Building on the in-world secrets of the Backrooms with its Easter eggs and unexpected detours, Parsons is excited by the prospect of continuing the universe he first created as a teenager posting to YouTube.
“It’s always been about preserving the same feeling, and the same way of delivering information, but gradually giving more visually and narratively to get to the root of the mechanism by which this place operates,” Parsons says. “Where is it drawing from? Where did these buildings come from? What is it building itself out of?”
Fans of Parsons’ Backrooms mythos and universe have been posing these questions since 2022, when the online community began creating and sharing their own variations on Parsons’ otherworldly realm. The evolving Backrooms legend remains active across robust Reddit, Wiki and Discord communities, in addition to Parsons’ three million YouTube subscribers, most of them hyper-attuned to every newly revealed detail of his transfixing world.
Fans in turn craft and post their own art, narrative riffs, deep-dive analyses, and explainer videos, theorizing over the secrets of the Backrooms mythology. This new kind of fandriven IP creation is the first to make the leap to Hollywood, where its continuity and creative integrity is ensured by Parsons’ overarching vision for the universe.
And while the film uncovers startling revelations that are sure to deepen the lore for fans, it also invites new audiences to experience the Backrooms for the first time – a strange and terrifying place whose unsettling mystique may not only point to inexplicable external forces, but perhaps more horrifyingly, inward.
As the Backrooms pull Clark and Mary ever deeper into its endless maze, the only way out is to confront the emotional and psychological wounds that got them trapped there in the first place. This anchor point grounds the surreal Backrooms in an utterly human perspective, and the truism that while many answers can be known in life, others remain unknowable.
Defying the jump-scare driven tropes in mainstream horror, the big-screen Backrooms explores the psychological and existential terrors of original characters, including an architect-turned furniture-store salesman, his haunted therapist, and a mysterious scientist. For Parsons, utilising the cinematic format was a natural progression of the story world he spent years building on a computer.
“I come from a very ARG (Alternate Reality Game), web series-centred space and I wasn’t trained on the conventions of traditional filmmaking,” Parsons says. “Making this movie was an incredible lesson in balancing what would work for a theatrical audience while also staying true to what I’ve created on YouTube.”
Taking the Backrooms from internet legend to big screen, Parsons creates a new benchmark in horror cinema around an uncanny space that feeds off of modern disconnection and the human brain’s unquenchable thirst to find meaning in the unexplainable.
With Backrooms, Parsons gives us an unsettling framework for understanding the cacophony of our collective fears and anxieties — and the allure of giving into them.
“The Backrooms is the quintessential thing that would prey on our curiosity and our desire to know more — and to piece together meaning from what seems to be random noise,” says Parsons. “It’s about going down the rabbit hole and arriving at a place where you see that the industrialised scale behind this crisis is affecting many more people than just Clark. It’s everywhere.”
Set in 1990 and based on Parsons’ viral web series, Backrooms follows furniture salesman Clark (Chiwetel Ejiofor) as he makes a startling discovery in the basement of his showroom — a portal, bathed in yellow fluorescent lights and littered with familiar objects, leading to an eerie maze of endless office space. Shaken by what he discovers there, Clark is also drawn to its anomalies. He enlists his sceptical employee Kat (Lukita Maxwell) and her boyfriend Bobby (Finn Bennett) to help chart its unsettling expanse of impossibly constructed rooms and corridors, where strange noises hint that something otherworldly may be lurking in the shadows. When Clark goes missing, his therapist Dr. Mary Kline (Renate Reinsve), confronting buried traumas of her own, finds herself lost in the Backrooms searching for answers, and a way out.
Liminal Horror
Parsons was just 16 years old when, inspired by an internet creepypasta, he used the open-source 3D software Blender and Adobe After Effects to create what was initially intended as a visual effects test. Uploaded to YouTube in 2022, the nine-minute short THE BACKROOMS (FOUND FOOTAGE) garnered 20 million views in its first two weeks and has been dubbed “the scariest video on the internet.”
While still in high school, Parsons began expanding the concept of his initial Backrooms clip, creating 22 additional episodes, and developing its own mythos as it exploded in popularity across the internet. To date, the web series has amassed 216 million views, spawning its own online ecosystem of fan subreddits and YouTube videos dissecting its canon in detail.
The Backrooms phenomenon and its pervasive, infectious dread is rooted in the liminal-space aesthetic built around haunting images of transitory, banal or anodyne thresholds. Often captured in images of man-made environments devoid of people, these spaces are ripe with the uneasy sense that something within is off, or “wrong” — whether physically, spiritually, or psychologically. These desolate settings become a new kind of trap, fraught with terror and menace: an abandoned mall emptied out of shops and consumers; a long, empty hallway leading nowhere; and in Backrooms, a surreal maze of uncanny office rooms laden with details that don’t quite add up.
“The Backrooms feel ordinary, but by the very nature of their extreme ordinariness, it becomes quite disturbing,” says Ejiofor. “You feel like you should be reasonably safe because you’re in an empty office space — but because something isn’t quite right within its confines you feel even more vulnerable. That feeling is the starting point for why the Backrooms is so horrifying.”
What makes liminal spaces so unsettling?
Stripped of their intended purpose, these desolate places conjure a disquieting sense of nostalgia within the viewer.
“The liminal feeling, whether it be the transition between physical or emotional locations or in-between states, turns into a horror that harkens back to the subtle details of childhood,” says Parsons. “It’s exploring the past that gets left behind — and the longing to return to the past that doesn’t exist.”
Adds Renate Reinsve, who plays Dr. Mary Kline: “There are so many things inside us that we can’t tap into — and there are specific things we can only access in our subconscious. We have very limited knowledge of the vast neurological system within us.”
There is a familiar shorthand in the banal, office-like space that Clark first enters when he stumbles into the Backrooms, where buzzing fluorescent lights cast drab carpeted chambers in a sickly yellow sheen. “There is probably no better symbol for that kind of monoculture than a drop ceiling,” says Parsons.
Yet beyond that prickling sense of unease, tangible and sinister threats await. In his web series, Parsons established an expansive world in which unlucky humans encounter this limitless space seemingly made up of the sum of the external world — and the volatile entities known as “Still Lifes” within.
The film broadens our understanding of what the Backrooms are capable of — and how they function as a “direct tumour” on reality, in the words of its creator.
“What if it’s not only buildings and objects that can be replicated, but also human beings,” wonders Parsons. “What if we’re not special in any particular way? What if we’re just clumps of cells that can be copied by this place, like mutations?”
As the popularity of Parsons’ BACKROOMS grew, Hollywood production companies began calling with interest in developing it for the big screen. In 2023, a year after the web series debuted, Chernin Entertainment, 21 Laps Entertainment, and Atomic Monster teamed up with A24 to back Parsons’ feature debut.
Parsons went through the story beat by beat with screenwriter Will Soodik
Ensuring that his ideological north star remained in sight while expanding his Backrooms world into uncharted cinematic territory. Now 20, Parsons makes his feature directorial debut with Backrooms, becoming the youngest director in A24 history. From production design to VFX to musical score, which he Co-composed with the Canadian musician and immersive sound producer Edo Van Breemen, the filmmaker worked closely with key department heads to ensure that the film preserved strict continuity with the established world of his series.
“Every step of the way in making this film, I’ve felt like we’re advancing the premise of the Backrooms while respecting its core audience,” says Parsons. “Our goal was to deliver for those who know about Backrooms without alienating newcomers. I think it remains an honest interpretation of its own origins.”
James Wan, who serves as a producer on the film and is the world-builder who pioneered the SAW, CONJURING and INSIDIOUS franchises, recognised a kindred spirit in Parsons through his own DIY filmmaking origins. “The horror aspect of this project comes from a very psychological standpoint, and Kane taps into the growing fascination with liminal spaces,” says Wan. “With his Backrooms shorts, Kane proved that he was very capable. He knows what he wants and he understands this world so well that as producers, cast and crew, we trust his vision. Having someone like that as a leader goes a long way.”
Parsons is not just making a film. He is shaping a genre, and he is only just getting started.
At just 20 years old, Kane Parsons, better known to millions online as Kane Pixels, is redefining what the future of horror looks like. A self-taught filmmaker and visual effects prodigy, Parsons first burst onto the scene with THE BACKROOMS FOUND FOOTAGE, a hauntingly atmospheric YouTube short that went viral and has since amassed more than 190 million views. With its analog horror aesthetic, immersive world building and eerie sense of psychological dread, the film quickly cemented Parsons as a visionary new voice in genre storytelling.
Upcoming, Parsons will make his highly anticipated feature directorial debut with BACKROOMS for A24, Parsons is bringing his singular vision to the big screen. Based on the universe he created, the film is being produced by two genre heavyweights: Shawn Levy, known for STRANGER THINGS and DEADPOOL & WOLVERINE, and James Wan, known for THE CONJURING and M3GAN 2.0. The project marks a rare partnership between 21 Laps Entertainment and Atomic Monster, underscoring the industry’s belief in Parsons’ unique talent. With more than 3 million YouTube subscribers and a devoted online fan base, Parsons has cultivated an expansive and deeply engaging mythos around THE BACKROOMS, which continues to evolve across digital platforms. The upcoming feature is expected to build on the uncanny realism and existential horror that made the original short a cultural phenomenon while introducing bold new dimensions to the nightmare.
Will Soodik wrote BACKROOMS for A24. Soodik also wrote ALTAR for A24, which is currently in post-production. Previously, he was Co-EP in the NEUROMANCER room for Apple TV+ and Co-EP on WESTWORLD for HBO. Will’s other credits include ASH VS. EVIL DEAD on Starz, DAMIEN on A+E, BORGIA, and HOMELAND. His feature script GOD’S COUNTRY is being produced by 6th & Idaho and Ara Keshishian.
Tuner is a propulsive heist thriller that intertwines romance and drama in a tense, charming story about identity, creativity, and resilience, marking the narrative feature debut from Academy Award-winning director Daniel Roher, who co-wrote the film with Robert Ramsey.
It was conceived as a film that fully embraces cinema’s sensory nature — not just visually, but as a deeply auditory experience where sound is as crucial to the storytelling as image.
Sound in Tuner is integral to the story’s emotional and psychological texture, explains Writer-Director David Roher: “I designed this movie for the sound. It is a sound designer’s movie. I want the film to be immersive. I want the sound design to put us into the subjective POV of Niki White. I want to hear what he hears.”
Tuner follows Niki White (Leo Woodall), a talented piano tuner with a unique and meticulous auditory condition who crisscrosses New York City’s streets and hallowed concert halls with his blunt and charismatic mentor Harry Horowitz (Dustin Hoffman). When security contractor Uri (Lior Raz) learns Niki’s hypersensitive hearing is worth more for cracking safes than for opening Steinways, he offers Niki a risky opportunity that could help Harry and his devoted wife Marla (Tovah Feldshuh) manage their mounting medical crisis. As Niki is drawn deeper into the propulsive criminal underworld with Uri and his crew, his budding relationship with Ruthie is threatened, entangling him in a dangerous dilemma.
“I really wanted to make the type of film that I would have wanted to watch when I was 15, 16, 17 years old…’ says Roher. ‘I wanted to have a crime film, with stakes, and music, and romance, something that was propulsive and montage-y.” Adding, “Robert and I, we probably spent about a year spitballing it back and forth… we were really able to use that time to keep honing it and workshopping it and getting it to a place where we were really excited about it.”
Dustin Hoffman with Writer-Director David Roher. Photo credit: Alan Markfield; Courtesy of Black Bear
The decision paid off. “When I first read the ‘Tuner’ script, I was impressed by how well-written it was,” declares Dustin Hoffman. “What particularly struck me was the original way the story evolved into a heist genre; it felt fresh and compelling.”
On Hoffman’s reaction, Roher says, “When Dustin responded positively to the screenplay, it was like the greatest endorsement of my work that I ever could have imagined.”
JoAnne Sellar, who found the project and shepherded it from script to screen, said, “I hadn’t seen a film about a piano tuner; it just sort of jumped out at me. I also found it very humorous. It was a really good read.”
Reflecting on the script’s momentum, producer Lila Yacoub added, “You just couldn’t put it down. The dialogue was very witty, and it was exciting to see such a genuinely refreshing idea unfold as a narrative.”
From the start, the sonic environment is treated as a character in innovative and immersive ways. The team involved in crafting this vital aspect of the film includes Marius de Vries, who served as Executive Music Producer and composed all the music performed on-screen, including the big orchestral piece, “Pearl Watch Rhapsody.”
Steven Gizicki served as Music Supervisor and handled all source music in the film. Will Bates composed the film’s original score. Notes Yacoub: “The music is quite beautiful; they spent a lot of time practising so that it looks authentic.”
The sound design culminates in a visceral auditory experience that allows the audience to feel what the protagonist feels, whether in moments of intense silence or overwhelming noise. The film’s Sound Designer is the Academy Award-winning Johnnie Burn, most known for his sound work on The Zone of Interest.
“When it comes to artistry and sound design and excellence in that field, there’s no one, for me, who’s greater than Johnnie Burn,” exclaims Roher. Producer JoAnne Sellar agrees. “He was integral to it all. He brought an incredible amount of [expertise and real-life relevance] to the project.”
For Havana Rose Liu, the story beats landed immediately: “When I first read the script, I was initially impacted by the way that it felt like three different worlds of film… brought together by a single character.
Marius de Vries was on set during production and worked with Leo Woodall and Havana Rose Liu to make their piano playing as authentic as possible. Roher points to Woodall’s commitment, noting: “He learned a three-minute piano piece starting from zero.”
Describing the preparation, Liu recalls, “We did daily lessons for an hour and a half, and I would go home and practice for another two or three hours to get the pieces where they needed to be.” That preparation was underpinned by a personal connection to the material for Liu: “I had just lost my grandmother right before reading this… and I felt there was some sort of deep, painful, but beautiful, kismet relationship to her as a character.”
Having attended the Los Angeles Conservatory of Music with hopes of becoming a concert pianist before finding his calling as an actor, Dustin Hoffman, who portrays veteran tuner Harry Horowitz, was well-versed in the skill set. “The role of a piano tuner immediately resonated with me on a personal level. Having spent my life playing piano and taking lessons early on from teachers who were also piano tuners, I’d become aware of how these craftsmen are often quite accomplished pianists themselves yet remain underappreciated.”
Tuner also uses sound to draw parallels between two seemingly unrelated skill sets: piano tuning and safecracking. They are both tasks rooted in tactility and sound, requiring acute sensitivity to touch and acoustics, which helped the film form its narrative connections between plot and sonic language.
Connecting the link, Roher says, “Tuner is a propulsive, jazzy film about a piano tuner who comes to realize that the exact same skill set required to get pianos in perfect pitch, all feeling and touch, can equally be applied to cracking safes.”
Leo Woodall and Dustin Hoffman. Photo credit: Alan Markfield; Courtesy of Black Bear
David Roher’s tonal vision that guided the script
I was 29 when I won the Oscar, and honestly, I had no idea what came next. The anxiety hit hard, along with this weird depression I wasn’t expecting. You know how creativity usually just flows? Mine completely dried up. It’s like when athletes get the yips and suddenly can’t perform – except this was my whole creative process just… gone. Nothing. And that terrified me. It forced me to face this existential question: if the creative part of me – which had always been who I was just well, disappeared, then who the hell was I? That question wouldn’t leave me alone. It kept gnawing at me until it became Tuner.
It’s a film about creative paralysis. About what happens when the thing that defines you just stops working. It’s about that terrifying space between who you were and who you might become when your identity gets pulled out from under you. If someone’s value is predicated on their art, what happens if they can’t make art anymore? This question was circling in my head when I met Peter White, a piano tuner in Los Angeles. Peter’s poetic and almost spiritual relationship to sound was fascinating and directly inspired the character of Niki. Soon, I was off and writing.
With Tuner, I wanted to invite viewers into a world where music, sound, and silence shape a man’s identity. Niki, played by Leo Woodall, is a gifted pianist who no longer plays after developing hyperacusis, which is a painful disorder related to loudness perception in one’s hearing. The film examines two core themes: the fragile nature of identity and the struggle to reclaim joy after loss. It’s a story about fear and courage, but, more than anything, I wanted it to be a lot of fun. I wanted to make a film with romance and music. A film sizzling with the kind of moral ambiguity that percolates out of crime stories. A movie with a comedic backbeat.
Though deeply personal, I believe this story resonates universally. Everyone has faced moments of doubt, burnout, or reinvention. Tuner is about the human experience of grappling with change, grief, and the hope of renewal. It’s about the invisible battles we fight and the unexpected ways we move forward.
As a filmmaker who has spent years telling true stories, Tuner was an opportunity to step into fiction to explore emotional truths with a new toolkit. My hope is that it sparks conversations about creativity, identity, and resilience – especially as millions grapple with these questions while new technology fundamentally changes our relationship to creativity.
DANIEL ROHER (Writer/Director) is a filmmaker from Toronto, Canada. He is best known for the 2022 documentary, NAVALNY, which won the Academy Award for Best Documentary Feature, the BAFTA ward for Best Documentary as well as the Sundance’s Festival Favorite Award. In addition to his work in film, Roher is an accomplished visual artist whose work has been exhibited in galleries around the world.
ROBERT RAMSEY (Co-writer) co-wrote the screenplays for DESTINY TURNS ON THE RADIO (1995); LIFE (1999); BIG TROUBLE (2002); INTOLERABLE CRUELTY (2003); MAN OF THE HOUSE (2005); and SOUL MEN (2008). He has taught screenwriting at the University of Southern California since 2012.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on The Mandalorian & Grogu – A New Star Wars Epic
Star Wars: The Mandalorian & Grogu marks the first feature‑film expansion of the acclaimed Disney+ series, transforming the intimate, frontier‑myth energy of the show into a full‑scale theatrical event directed by Jon Favreau, with writing contributions from Favreau, Dave Filoni, and Noah Kloor.
Set in the era of the New Republic, after the fall of the Empire, the film follows legendary bounty hunter Din Djarin (Pedro Pascal) and his young apprentice Grogu as they embark on what Lucasfilm describes as their “most thrilling mission yet,” a journey that pushes their bond, their skills, and their place in the galaxy into new territory.
The narrative unfolds against a galaxy still fractured by Imperial warlords, remnants of a defeated regime who continue to destabilise systems and challenge the fragile order the New Republic is struggling to build. The film positions itself as both a continuation and an expansion: a bridge between the intimacy of the series and the mythic scale of Star Wars cinema, a story forged in loyalty, danger, and the evolving bond between a warrior and the child who reshaped his destiny.
In Star Wars: The Mandalorian & Grogu, Din Djarin (Pedro Pascal) and his young foundling Grogu are drawn into their most perilous mission yet when the fragile New Republic enlists them to confront a rising threat in the outer rim. Forced to abandon the quiet life they’ve begun to build, the pair journey into contested territory where Imperial remnants, criminal syndicates, and old enemies converge. Along the way they cross paths with new allies and adversaries, including Colonel Ward (Sigourney Weaver), a battle‑scarred former Rebel, and Rotta the Hutt, voiced by Jeremy Allen White, whose criminal lineage complicates the shifting power landscape. As Grogu’s emerging abilities deepen and Din’s loyalty is tested, the mission becomes a crucible that pushes them toward the centre of a new galactic struggle. What begins as a call for help becomes a story of identity, destiny, and the unbreakable bond between a warrior and the child who reshaped his life.
Crafting the Screenplay
Jon Favreau, Dave Filoni, and Noah Kloor crafted the screenplay for The Mandalorian & Grogu by merging three complementary creative instincts: Favreau’s structural discipline and character‑driven storytelling, Filoni’s deep command of Star Wars mythology, and Kloor’s experience shaping the tonal and political textures of the Mando‑era shows.
The film originated during a moment of franchise recalibration: by early 2023, Favreau and Filoni had already written a full fourth season of The Mandalorian, but the Hollywood labour disputes halted production and gave Lucasfilm time to rethink its long‑term strategy. During this pause, the studio decided to prioritize a feature film over a new season, prompting Favreau and Filoni to re‑engineer their existing material into a cinematic narrative built for scale, momentum, and theatrical spectacle.
Favreau’s role in the screenplay was totranslate the emotional core of the series into a feature‑length arc: the bond between Din Djarin and Grogu, the tension between personal loyalty and galactic responsibility, and the frontier‑myth tone that defines their journey. His writing emphasises propulsion, a single, high‑stakes mission assigned by the New Republic, and uses the film format to push Din and Grogu into the centre of a galaxy‑wide conflict rather than the outer‑rim drift of the series.
Filoni’s contribution is the mythic architecture: the political fractures of the post‑Empire era, the lingering threat of Imperial warlords, and the connective tissue linking this story to the broader Star Wars timeline. His worldbuilding ensures that the film feels rooted in the same narrative ecosystem as Ahsoka, Rebels, and the larger Mando‑verse, while still functioning as a standalone cinematic chapter.
Noah Kloor, confirmed as the film’s third screenwriter through WGA listings, brought a different but crucial layer. Kloor had previously co‑written The Book of Boba Fett with Favreau and contributed to The Mandalorian Season 3, giving him a strong grasp of the era’s political tensions, its tonal balance between grit and wonder, and the narrative rhythms of the New Republic period. His involvement helped refine the screenplay’s interplay between character drama and institutional stakes, shaping the roles of new figures such as Sigourney Weaver’s Colonel Ward, a former Rebel who carries the weight of past battles, and Jeremy Allen White as the voice of Rotta the Hutt, adding political and criminal complexity to the story’s landscape.
Together, the trio approached the screenplay as both a continuation and an escalation. They preserved the intimacy of the Din–Grogu relationship while expanding the canvas to IMAX‑scale action, integrating large‑format visual storytelling directly into the script, even the IMAX countdown is written as an in‑universe forging sequence.
Their collaboration blends Favreau’s emotional clarity, Filoni’s mythic continuity, and Kloor’s structural refinement, producing a screenplay designed to reintroduce Star Wars to cinemas with a story that feels both familiar and newly expansive: a warrior and a child stepping into a galaxy that finally needs them.
Favreau’s direction signals a shift from the series’ episodic, frontier‑western structure toward a more operatic, large‑canvas adventure
Visually, the film is engineered as a theatrical spectacle
Designed for IMAX and large‑format screens, with sequences that merge the grounded, tactile aesthetic of the series with the scale and sweep of classic Star Wars cinema; even the IMAX countdown is integrated diegetically, set within a Mandalorian forge where Grogu playfully shapes the numbers himself.
Thematically, the film continues the show’s exploration of found family, warrior codes, and the tension between personal loyalty and galactic responsibility, but it also raises the stakes.
As the first Star Wars theatrical release since 2019, The Mandalorian & Grogu carries the weight of revitalising the franchise on the big screen — and early footage suggests a film that embraces that responsibility with confidence, heart, and a sense of adventure worthy of the saga’s legacy.
Jon Favreau is a filmmaker, actor, and producer whose career spans indie comedy, blockbuster franchise building, and large‑scale technological innovation. After breaking out with Swingers (1996), which he wrote and starred in, Favreau became a defining creative force in modern Hollywood, directing Elf, Iron Man, The Jungle Book, and The Lion King, and helping launch the Marvel Cinematic Universe. His partnership with Dave Filoni reshaped Star Wars for a new generation: Favreau created The Mandalorian, co‑architected its spin‑offs, and now directs the franchise’s return to cinemas with The Mandalorian & Grogu (2026). Known for emotional clarity, structural discipline, and a blend of warmth and spectacle, Favreau has become one of the most influential storytellers of contemporary blockbuster cinema.
Dave Filoni is a writer, director, and animation visionary whose work has become central to the modern Star Wars mythos. First mentored by George Lucas on The Clone Wars, Filoni went on to create Rebels, The Bad Batch, and Ahsoka, shaping the emotional and thematic spine of the franchise’s post‑Lucas era. As Lucasfilm’s Chief Creative Officer, he now oversees the interconnected storytelling of the Mando‑verse, collaborating closely with Jon Favreau on The Mandalorian, The Book of Boba Fett, and Skeleton Crew. Filoni’s signature lies in his mythic sensibility — a blend of sincerity, archetype, and character‑driven worldbuilding — which he brings to The Mandalorian & Grogu as co‑writer and executive producer.
Noah Kloor is a screenwriter and emerging creative voice within the Favreau–Filoni era of Star Wars. After contributing to The Book of Boba Fett and The Mandalorian Season 3, Kloor became the third credited writer on The Mandalorian & Grogu, helping shape the film’s political texture, tonal balance, and narrative integration within the New Republic era. His work reflects a talent for refining character‑driven storytelling within large mythological frameworks, making him a key part of the next generation of Star Wars screenwriters.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Writing the Screenplay for Bear Country – A Character-Driven Crime Thriller
Bear Country is an action‑thriller directed by Derrick Borte, adapted by Borte and Daniel Forte from Thomas Perry’s 2010 novel Strip, and positioned as a muscular, character‑driven crime story built around the slow implosion of a man’s carefully constructed life.
At its centre is Manco Kapak (played by Russell Crowe), an ageing but still formidable Los Angeles club owner whose dream of selling his business and retiring with his girlfriend collapses when he is robbed by a masked gunman, an act that draws the attention of cartels, opportunists, and predators who sense weakness in a man who has spent decades projecting strength.
The film merges the classic noir template, a man with a plan undone by a single violent disruption, with the contemporary textures of cartel‑era Los Angeles, creating a narrative where every character is driven by hunger, desperation, or the promise of escape.
Borte, whose previous work (The Joneses, Unhinged) blends psychological tension with social critique, directs with an eye for moral corrosion: Bear Country becomes a study of a man whose past choices, alliances, and enemies converge at the exact moment he tries to walk away.
The screenplay, co‑written with Forte, retains Perry’s fascination with the criminal underworld’s bureaucratic machinery, the debts, the favours, the shifting loyalties, while sharpening the emotional stakes around Kapak’s desire for reinvention.
Crafting the screenplay
Derrick Borte and Daniel Forte adapted Thomas Perry’s Strip into Bear Country by distilling the novel’s sprawling, multi‑threaded crime narrative into a tighter, more character‑driven thriller anchored around a single emotional axis: a man trying to leave a violent world that refuses to let him go.
Perry’s novel is structurally intricate, a mosaic of criminals, hustlers, detectives, and opportunists whose lives intersect around a strip‑club owner named Manco Kapak, but Borte and Forte approached the material with the discipline of filmmakers who understand that cinema thrives on compression, momentum, and emotional clarity.
Their first major adaptation choice was re-centring the story entirely around Kapak, transforming him from one strand in Perry’s ensemble into the gravitational core of the film. This shift allows the screenplay to explore Kapak’s psychology with greater intensity: his desire to sell his club, retire with his girlfriend, and escape the criminal ecosystem he helped build becomes the film’s spine, giving the narrative a tragic inevitability as every attempt at reinvention triggers new threats.
Borte and Forte also streamlined Perry’s network of antagonists, condensing multiple criminal factions into a more focused set of pressures, cartels, opportunistic rivals, and a mysterious buyer whose intentions grow increasingly ominous, creating a cinematic environment where danger feels omnipresent but narratively coherent.
Their adaptation leans into Perry’s fascination with the bureaucracy of crime, the debts, favours, and invisible rules that govern underground economies, but they sharpen these elements into scenes that reveal character rather than simply illustrate procedure.
Borte, whose filmmaking often explores the psychological cost of modern life (Unhinged, The Joneses), brings a tonal sensibility that amplifies the novel’s noir fatalism: the sun‑bleached Los Angeles of Perry’s book becomes, in the film, a heat‑warped pressure cooker where every conversation carries threat and every alliance is provisional.
Forte, who has collaborated with Borte on multiple projects, complements this by shaping dialogue that is lean, tense, and charged with subtext, allowing the screenplay to maintain Perry’s dry wit while embracing a more cinematic rhythm.
The decision to shoot in Queensland, Australia, with the Gold Coast doubling for Los Angeles, also influenced the adaptation: Borte and Forte adjusted locations, action beats, and atmospheric details to suit the geography, creating a version of LA that feels slightly off‑kilter, familiar yet uncanny, which mirrors Kapak’s destabilised world.
Throughout the adaptation, the duo preserved Perry’s central thematic concern: a man cannot outrun the consequences of the life he built, no matter how desperately he tries. But they translated this theme into a more intimate, character‑focused tragedy, tightening the narrative screws until Kapak’s past, present, and future collide in a single violent trajectory.
The result is a screenplay that honours the novel’s gritty complexity while transforming it into a cinematic thriller defined by tension, moral corrosion, and the slow, inevitable collapse of a man who waited too long to walk away.
Derrick Borte is a German‑born filmmaker known for character‑driven thrillers and socially charged genre pieces that blend tension, psychology, and cultural critique. Borte first built a career in visual art and commercial directing before breaking out with The Joneses (2009), a satirical drama that established his interest in the hidden pressures of modern life. He went on to direct London Town (2016) and the hit road‑rage thriller Unhinged (2020), which showcased his ability to turn everyday anxieties into cinematic escalation. Borte’s work is marked by muscular pacing, emotional undercurrents, and a fascination with people pushed to the edge — qualities he brings to Bear Country, which he co‑wrote and directed. His films consistently explore the collision between personal desire, social systems, and the consequences that erupt when control slips.
Daniel Forte is a screenwriter and longtime creative collaborator of Derrick Borte, known for crafting lean, character‑driven scripts that fuse tension, dark humour, and emotional precision. Forte began his career writing and producing across independent film and television before forming a durable partnership with Borte, co‑writing projects that foreground psychological pressure and morally ambiguous characters. His work often focuses on people navigating systems that are collapsing around them, a thematic through‑line that shapes his adaptation of Thomas Perry’s Strip into Bear Country. Forte’s writing style is defined by tight structure, subtext‑rich dialogue, and an instinct for sharpening literary material into cinematic propulsion. With Bear Country, he and Borte re‑engineer Perry’s sprawling crime novel into a focused, noir‑driven thriller centred on a man trying to escape the world he built, solidifying Forte as a screenwriter skilled at translating complexity into narrative momentum.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Writing the Screenplay for Top Gun – Redefining Action Blockbusters and Naval Aviation
The year 2026 marks the 40th anniversary of Top Gun (1986), a film that redefined the modern action blockbuster, and embedded naval aviation into pop‑culture mythology.
Paramount is commemorating the milestone with a major theatrical re‑release on 13 May 2026, returning the original film to cinemas worldwide almost exactly forty years after its debut. This marks the film’s fourth major theatrical release, following its original 1986 run, the 2013 3D re‑release, and the 2021 pre‑Maverick re‑release, underscoring its enduring cultural power and its status as a generational touchstone.
The anniversary arrives in a moment of renewed interest in the franchise, following the record‑breaking success of Top Gun: Maverick (2022), which reignited global enthusiasm for the world of naval aviators and placed the original film back into the cultural spotlight.
The anniversary underscores the film’s lasting influence: its soundtrack, its aerial photography, its fashion, its quotable dialogue, and its mythic framing of American aviation have all become cultural shorthand. Forty years later, Top Gun remains not just a movie but a generational rite of passage, a film that continues to pull audiences back into the danger zone.
The screenplay for Top Gun (1986) was written by Jim Cash and Jack Epps Jr., working from and expanding upon Ehud Yonay’s 1983 California magazine article “Top Guns.”
Jim Cash and Jack Epps Jr. crafted the screenplay for Top Gun through a long‑distance, two‑man process built on research, immersion, and a deep fascination with the psychology of fighter pilots.
Their partnership began years earlier at Michigan State University, where Cash was Epps’s screenwriting professor; by the time Top Gun came along, they had already written seven unproduced scripts together and had developed a rhythm in which Epps handled field research while Cash shaped the material into narrative form.
According to Epps, Paramount had eight potential concepts in development when the studio presented them with Ehud Yonay’s 1983 California magazine article “Top Guns,” which profiled the elite fighter‑pilot program at NAS Miramar. Epps, who held an amateur pilot’s license, immediately seized on the idea, partly because he hoped it would get him into a jet, and soon found himself embedded with Navy pilots at Miramar, taking multiple back‑seat flights in F‑5 and F‑14 aircraft, observing dogfights, and even attending a real Top Gun graduation exercise.
While Epps was gathering the visceral details, the speed, the competition, the rituals, the swagger, the physical strain, Cash remained in East Lansing, receiving Epps’s notes, scene maps, and technical insights, and transforming them into a dramatic structure that could support character arcs, rivalries, romance, and the film’s now‑iconic aerial set pieces.
Their process was built on division of labour: Epps fed Cash the raw material, and Cash shaped it into a story.
Together, they invented the film’s characters, their emotional conflicts, the training exercises, and the competitive spirit that defines the narrative. Epps has said that the key breakthrough came during his flights, when he realised that fighter pilots are essentially athletes, competitive, ego‑driven, constantly pushing themselves and each other, a revelation that shaped everything from the Top Gun trophy to the volleyball sequence to the film’s emphasis on rivalry and self‑mastery.
The duo also understood early that the film’s success would depend on capturing extraordinary aerial footage, and they wrote the script with that requirement in mind, building scenes that would justify the Navy’s cooperation and allow director Tony Scott to shoot the F‑14s in full cinematic glory.
Despite rumours that the script changed dramatically during production, Epps has clarified that the first draft was not radically different from the final film, meaning the core structure, characters, and emotional beats were already in place from the earliest version.
What makes their screenplay distinctive is the way it blends authentic military detail with mythic emotional architecture: Maverick’s need for speed, his rivalry with Iceman, his guilt over his father, his romance with Charlie, and his struggle to balance instinct with discipline. Cash and Epps wrote the film as a story about identity, competition, and the cost of ambition, wrapped in the spectacle of aerial combat.
Their writing process, one man in the sky, one man at the typewriter, produced a screenplay that feels both grounded and larger‑than‑life, a fusion of research and imagination that became the foundation for one of the most iconic action films ever made.
Jim Cash (left) and Jack Epps Jr. (right)
Jim Cash (1941–2000) was an American screenwriter and longtime Michigan State University professor whose partnership with former student Jack Epps Jr. became one of the most successful writing duos of the 1980s. Cash remained in East Lansing throughout their career, collaborating remotely with Epps in California as they co‑wrote a string of major studio films, including Top Gun (1986), Legal Eagles (1986), The Secret of My Success (1987), Turner & Hooch (1989), and Dick Tracy (1990). Known for his structural clarity, character‑driven humour, and ability to shape high‑concept ideas into emotionally accessible stories, Cash left a lasting legacy as both a teacher and a Hollywood craftsman, establishing scholarships and mentoring writers until his death in 2000.
Jack Epps Jr. (born 1949) is an American screenwriter, producer, and educator best known as the co‑writer of Top Gun (1986), a film that became a defining cultural landmark of the 1980s. Raised in the Detroit area, Epps studied at Michigan State University, where he met professor Jim Cash and began a writing partnership that would span more than two decades. After moving to Hollywood, Epps became the duo’s on‑the‑ground researcher, embedding himself in environments ranging from naval air bases to police departments to gather the technical and behavioural detail that shaped their scripts. Together, Cash and Epps wrote a series of studio hits, including Legal Eagles, The Secret of My Success, Turner & Hooch, and Dick Tracy. Epps later transitioned into teaching, becoming a prominent screenwriting professor at the USC School of Cinematic Arts, where he continues to mentor emerging writers and preserve the craft principles that defined his career.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Fuze – A high‑tension heist‑disaster spectacle
Screenwriter Ben Hopkins’ screenplay for Fuze is a propulsive, high‑tension heist‑disaster hybrid, fusing procedural urgency with character‑driven stakes to create a film that detonates with both spectacle and emotional pressure.
The story unfolds in central London, where an unexploded World War II bomb is discovered on a construction site, triggering a massive evacuation effort just as a criminal crew attempts to execute a meticulously planned heist, forcing the police, military, and thieves into a collision course against a literal ticking clock.
The film merges two genres: the classic bomb‑disposal thriller and the urban heist narrative, into a single escalating crisis, using the bomb not only as a plot device but as a metaphor for the fragility of modern urban life, the unpredictability of violence, and the way ordinary days can rupture into chaos.
The film is directed by David Mackenzie, known for Hell or High Water and Outlaw King, directs with muscular precision, grounding the spectacle in gritty realism.
Fuze is significant not only as a thriller but as a reflection on the volatility of modern cities, the thin line between order and collapse, and the way personal agendas — criminal, political, or heroic — can ignite when placed under extreme pressure. It is a film that understands the power of a simple premise executed with precision: a bomb, a heist, a city on edge, and the human stories caught in the blast radius.
Crafting the screenplay
British screenwriter Ben Hopkins crafted the screenplay for Fuze by fusing his background as an idiosyncratic, internationally seasoned writer‑director with a high‑concept premise rooted in real‑world tension, shaping a script that operates simultaneously as a heist thriller, a procedural crisis narrative, and a character‑driven pressure cooker.
The inspiration for the film draws from the real‑world phenomenon of unexploded ordnance still being discovered across London, remnants of the Blitz that continue to disrupt construction sites and neighbourhoods, and Hopkins uses this historical residue to explore how past violence lingers beneath the surface of contemporary life, waiting to erupt.
Hopkins has long been known for his genre versatility and his ability to write for other directors across borders, languages, and tonal registers, a skillset that becomes central to the architecture of Fuze. His screenplay begins with a simple but explosive idea: an unexploded WWII bomb discovered on a London construction site, a real phenomenon that continues to disrupt the city, and the chaos that erupts when this emergency intersects with a meticulously planned bank heist.
Hopkins uses this collision not as spectacle for its own sake but as a structural device, allowing two narrative engines to run in parallel: the military‑police evacuation effort and the criminal operation unfolding in the eerily emptied streets.
The project was taken to the 2024 European Film Market with Hopkins’ script already in place, attracting director David Mackenzie and star Aaron Taylor‑Johnson early, which shaped the screenplay’s emphasis on character dynamics, moral ambiguity, and the procedural authenticity Mackenzie is known for.
Hopkins’ writing style in Fuze is defined by precision and escalation: he plants “slightly off signals,” as critics note, in the behaviour of characters like Major Will Tranter and the heist leader Karalis, using subtle psychological cues to light narrative fuses that detonate later in the film.
His approach is less about deep psychological excavation and more about constructing a tightly interlocked system of motivations, deceptions, and shifting power dynamics, where every character’s action accelerates the countdown.
Hopkins’ experience writing across genres, from documentaries to road movies to literary adaptations, informs the screenplay’s hybrid identity: part disaster film, part crime thriller, part urban portrait. He grounds the bomb plot in procedural realism, the heist in character‑driven tension, and the city itself as a living organism under threat, using London’s multicultural geography and real locations to heighten authenticity.
His script also reflects his long‑standing interest in systems under strain: institutions, communities, and individuals pushed to the edge by forces larger than themselves.
In Fuze, the unexploded bomb becomes both literal and metaphorical, a remnant of historical violence buried beneath modern life, a symbol of unresolved tensions waiting to erupt, and a narrative device that compresses time, space, and character decisions into a single, relentless countdown.
Hopkins crafts the screenplay with the discipline of a novelist and the instincts of a filmmaker, creating a story that is lean, propulsive, and engineered for maximum tension, yet textured with the social detail and tonal sharpness that define his broader body of work. The result is a script that gives Mackenzie the scaffolding for a muscular, hyper‑verité thriller while retaining Hopkins’ signature blend of craft, intelligence, and narrative precision, a film built on the simple truth that a single buried object can unravel an entire city.
Ben Hopkins is a British novelist, screenwriter and director whose career spans feature films, documentaries, and internationally acclaimed television, marked by a distinctive blend of intelligence, genre versatility, and darkly comic precision. Hopkins emerged in the late 1990s as a singular voice in European cinema with films such as Simon Magus and the award‑winning mockumentary 37 Uses for a Dead Sheep, which won the Berlin Film Festival’s Caligari Prize. His work is defined by curiosity, tonal elasticity, and a fascination with systems under strain, whether political, social, or psychological — a sensibility that made him a natural fit for the high‑pressure architecture of Fuze (2026).
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Mortal Kombat II – A Martial Arts Fantasy
Mortal Kombat II is the most ambitious and expansive chapter in the modern Mortal Kombat film universe, a brutal, high‑stakes escalation of the 2021 reboot that deepens the mythology, broadens the character roster, and pushes the franchise into full tournament‑war territory.
Directed once again by Simon McQuoid, with a screenplay by Jeremy Slater, this Martial Arts Fantasy builds directly on the groundwork laid by its predecessor, which introduced audiences to Earthrealm’s champions and the looming threat of Outworld.
This sequel raises the stakes by bringing the legendary villain Shao Kahn to the forefront, positioning him as the central force threatening the survival of Earthrealm and its defenders. The narrative follows the champions, now joined by the long‑awaited fan-favourite Johnny Cage, played by Karl Urban, as they are forced into a series of violent confrontations that test their alliances, their identities, and their destinies. The film shifts from origin story to full ensemble war epic: characters like Liu Kang, Sonya Blade, Jax, Cole Young, Scorpion, Sub‑Zero, Kitana, Jade, and Raiden return, while new additions such as Kitana, Sindel, Shao Kahn, Baraka, and Quan Chi expand the world’s political and supernatural complexity.
As the fourth instalment in the Mortal Kombat film series and the second in the reboot continuity, Mortal Kombat II positions itself as both a continuation and a foundation, setting up future storylines, deepening character arcs, and paving the way for the already‑developing third film. Ultimately, the film stands as a testament to the franchise’s enduring appeal: a fusion of mythology, combat, spectacle, and fan‑driven passion, delivered with the scale and intensity worthy of a global cinematic event.
Crafting the screenplay
Jeremy Slater crafted the screenplay for Mortal Kombat II by approaching the sequel not as a continuation of the 2021 film but as the moment the franchise finally steps into its mythic destiny, treating the Mortal Kombat universe with the same structural discipline and character‑driven intensity he brought to Moon Knight, The Umbrella Academy, and The Exorcist series.
His process begins with lore: Slater immersed himself in decades of Mortal Kombat mythology, identifying the emotional and narrative threads that matter most to fans, Shao Kahn’s rise, the political tension between Earthrealm and Outworld, the long‑awaited arrival of Johnny Cage, and the deeper spiritual stakes surrounding Liu Kang, Kitana, Raiden, and the Elder Gods.
Instead of drowning the film in exposition, Slater builds the script around character arcs first, mythology second, ensuring that every fight, fatality, and supernatural escalation is rooted in personal conflict rather than spectacle for its own sake.
He treats the sequel as a war story: the first film was recruitment, this one is mobilisation, and the third will be the true tournament, so Mortal Kombat II becomes the bridge where alliances fracture, loyalties are tested, and the heroes confront the cost of becoming champions.
Slater’s writing emphasises ensemble balance, giving each fighter a clear emotional engine: Liu Kang wrestling with destiny, Sonya Blade navigating leadership, Cole Young confronting legacy, and Johnny Cage entering as both comic relief and a surprisingly grounded emotional counterweight. His action philosophy mirrors the games: every fight must reveal character, escalate stakes, and shift the power dynamic between realms.
Slater writes action the way a choreographer thinks, beats, reversals, and environmental improvisation, while trusting the stunt team and director Simon McQuoid to translate intention into physical form.
Structurally, he uses a three‑tiered escalation model: Earthrealm conflict, Outworld infiltration, and the looming shadow of Shao Kahn, whose presence shapes the script even when he is offscreen. Slater also leans into Mortal Kombat’s tonal duality, operatic myth and outrageous brutality, balancing emotional sincerity with the franchise’s signature dark humour and hyper-stylised violence.
His dialogue is clipped, muscular, and character‑specific, avoiding quips for quips’ sake and instead grounding humor in personality, especially through Johnny Cage, whose arrival allows Slater to comment on the absurdity of the universe without breaking it.
The screenplay is also shaped by Slater’s instinct for world‑building through conflict: Outworld politics, sorcery, rival clans, and the moral ambiguity of characters like Sub‑Zero, Scorpion, and Quan Chi are woven into the narrative not as lore dumps but as forces that push the heroes toward transformation.
Slater crafts Mortal Kombat II as a story about pressure, prophecy, and the brutal cost of defending a realm on the brink of annihilation, delivering a sequel that expands the universe, deepens the characters, and sets the stage for the inevitable, long‑awaited tournament that will define the franchise’s future.
Jeremy Slater is a screenwriter and producer best known for shaping some of the most ambitious genre worlds in contemporary film and television. Born in 1978, he built his reputation through a blend of high‑concept storytelling and character‑driven intensity, contributing to major franchises and original series alike. Slater created and executive‑produced The Exorcist TV series and helped develop the global hit The Umbrella Academy, demonstrating his instinct for adapting complex mythologies into emotionally grounded narratives. His film work includes contributions to Fantastic Four, Death Note, The Lazarus Effect, and Godzilla x Kong: The New Empire, showcasing his versatility across horror, action, and blockbuster spectacle. As head writer of Marvel’s Moon Knight, he brought psychological depth and tonal boldness to the MCU, further solidifying his reputation as a world‑builder. In 2022 he was hired to write Mortal Kombat II, later returning for Mortal Kombat III, where his command of ensemble storytelling, lore‑driven structure, and kinetic action made him a defining creative voice in the franchise. Slater’s work is marked by ambition, genre fluency, and a commitment to crafting stories that balance mythology with human stakes.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Iron Maiden, Burning Ambition and the Legacy of a Global Metal Empire
Iron Maiden: Burning Ambition is a monumental cinematic tribute to one of the most influential and enduring bands in rock history, a feature‑length documentary that charts Iron Maiden’s extraordinary five‑decade journey from East London pubs to global stadium dominance.
Directed by Malcolm Venville, whose work blends muscular visual storytelling with emotional clarity, and produced by Dominic Freeman, known for the Depeche Mode documentary Spirits in the Forest, the film positions Maiden not merely as a band but as a cultural movement that reshaped the sound, aesthetics, and mythology of heavy metal.
The documentary’s significance lies in its scope: it captures the band’s evolution across 17 studio albums, more than 100 million records sold, and nearly 2,500 concerts performed in 64 countries, tracing how a fiercely independent group built a worldwide community defined by loyalty, identity, and shared ritual.
Featuring on‑camera reflections from admirers such as Javier Bardem, Lars Ulrich, and Chuck D, the film situates Iron Maiden within a broader cultural lineage, showing how their music, imagery, and uncompromising ethos influenced artists across genres and generations. The documentary is anchored by newly released key art from longtime Maiden illustrator Albert “Akirant” Quirantes, whose visual language, Eddie, apocalypse, futurism, myth, has become inseparable from the band’s identity, reinforcing the idea that Maiden’s storytelling extends far beyond sound into a complete visual universe.
The film’s release on 7 May 2026, distributed globally by Universal Pictures, coincides with the band’s massive Run For Your Lives world tour, a two‑year celebration that includes a triumphant homecoming at London Stadium and the one‑of‑a‑kind EddFest at Knebworth Park, underscoring how Maiden continues to operate at a scale few rock acts ever achieve.
What inspired the documentary is the band’s milestone moment: fifty years since their formation in 1975, a half‑century marked not by nostalgia but by relentless forward motion, creative reinvention, and a fanbase that has only grown more intergenerational. Venville’s approach is to treat Maiden’s history not as a museum piece but as a living organism—charting the band’s early struggles, lineup changes, global breakthroughs, and the disciplined work ethic that kept them relevant long after many of their contemporaries faded.
The film explores how Maiden built a global family through touring, storytelling, and a refusal to compromise their sound, and how their influence extends from metal to film, literature, gaming, and visual art. It also captures the emotional core of the band: the camaraderie, the ambition, the near‑mythic bond between musicians and fans. Ultimately, Burning Ambition is not just a documentary but a cultural reckoning—a cinematic testament to Iron Maiden’s legacy, their impact on music and identity, and the fire that continues to drive them after fifty years on the road.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Writing the Screenplay for Normal – Riddled with corruption, conspiracy and a criminal network
Normal is inspired by the creative partnership between actor Bob Odenkirk and screenwriter Derek Kolstad, whose collaboration on Nobody and its sequel forged a shared language blending humour, brutality, and character‑driven stakes.
The film’s narrative, centred on Ulysses, a temporary sheriff seeking refuge from his own past in the seemingly quiet town of Normal, Minnesota, becomes a study in how violence, corruption, and buried secrets metastasise beneath the surface of American small‑town mythology. What begins as a simple assignment spirals into a violent confrontation with a conspiracy involving local law enforcement, ordinary citizens, and a criminal network tied to the Yakuza, transforming the town into a pressure cooker where every friendly face hides a weapon and every gesture of hospitality conceals a threat.
Ulysses, a temporary sheriff looking to disappear, arrives in the quiet town of Normal, only to be pulled into a violent bank robbery that exposes a criminal network woven through the community. As he digs deeper, he discovers that Normal is riddled with corruption, its citizens entangled in a conspiracy linked to the Yakuza. Forced into escalating violence and betrayal, Ulysses becomes the town’s only line of defense, confronting both its darkness and the past he hoped to escape.
The film is directed by Ben Wheatley, whose eclectic body of work, from Kill List to Free Fire to High‑Rise, demonstrates a fascination with chaos, violence, and the breakdown of social order. His direction amplifies the film’s themes by refusing to romanticise violence; instead, he presents it as messy, disorienting, and morally corrosive. His collaboration with Kolstad results in a film that is both structurally tight and aesthetically chaotic, a tension that gives Normal its distinctive tone.
The screenplay, written by Derek Kolstad, is shaped by his instinct for blending genre mechanics with emotional stakes
Kolstad structures the narrative as a descent into a labyrinth: each revelation exposes a deeper layer of corruption, each confrontation forces Ulysses to confront not only the town’s secrets but his own. The story is built on a simple but potent engine, a botched bank robbery that exposes a hidden criminal operation, and from there expands into a violent unravelling of the town’s social fabric.
Kolstad’s writing emphasizes the improvisational nature of survival: characters use whatever is at hand, environments become weapons, and action sequences unfold with a sense of chaotic ingenuity. His scenes often begin with clarity, become murky in the middle, and end with a sharp, staccato beat, a rhythm he has described as essential to both comedy and action. This structural discipline ensures that the film’s escalating violence never becomes shapeless; instead, it builds toward a crescendo that feels both inevitable and shocking.
Kolstad crafted the screenplay by returning to the core principles that define his writing: character before choreography, emotional stakes before spectacle, and a narrative engine built on escalation, consequence, and moral pressure.
His process begins with the protagonist’s wound, Ulysses, a man seeking anonymity in a town whose name promises safety, and Kolstad builds outward from that psychological fracture, ensuring that every plot turn is an extension of the character’s internal conflict rather than a mechanical genre requirement.
He writes in layers: first mapping the emotional spine, then the structural beats, then the action architecture that expresses character through movement, improvisation, and environment. Kolstad’s inspiration for Normal comes from his fascination with men who are not superheroes but survivors, ordinary, bruised, morally compromised figures who navigate violence with reluctance rather than swagger.
His Midwestern roots inform the setting: small towns that appear calm but hide rot beneath the surface, communities where politeness masks corruption, and where violence erupts not as spectacle but as the inevitable result of pressure, secrecy, and fear. In crafting the screenplay, Kolstad uses his signature “pressure‑cooker” structure: a simple inciting incident, a bank robbery gone wrong, reveals a deeper conspiracy, each revelation tightening the noose around the protagonist until action becomes the only language left.
He writes action the way comedians write timing: setup, disruption, reversal, punchline, except the punchline is a broken bone or a desperate escape. His scenes are built around clarity and chaos in equal measure, clear objectives, chaotic execution, because he believes action should feel like survival, not choreography.
Kolstad’s collaboration with Bob Odenkirk also shapes the script; he writes with Odenkirk’s rhythms in mind, crafting dialogue that is clipped, self‑effacing, and edged with regret, and action that relies on improvisation, exhaustion, and the physical vulnerability that made Nobody so compelling.
The screenplay is also influenced by Kolstad’s love of noir: morally ambiguous towns, compromised institutions, and protagonists who discover that the place they hoped would save them is the place that will destroy them. He structures Normal as a descent, each scene peeling back another layer of the town’s corruption, each confrontation revealing how deeply the criminal network has infiltrated the community, until the town itself becomes the antagonist.
Kolstad’s writing process is architectural: he outlines meticulously, then rewrites with increasing compression, stripping dialogue to its bone structure and letting silence, gesture, and environment carry meaning. He avoids exposition by embedding information in conflict, characters reveal themselves through what they want, what they fear, and what they’re willing to do when cornered. His action sequences are written as emotional beats, not technical descriptions; he focuses on intention, stakes, and outcome, trusting the director and stunt team to translate those beats into physical form.
What makes Normal significant within Kolstad’s body of work is its blend of noir fatalism, small‑town paranoia, and character‑driven violence, a synthesis that allows him to explore themes of identity, reinvention, and the impossibility of outrunning one’s past. In the end, Kolstad crafts the screenplay by doing what he does best: building a world where violence is never empty, where every punch carries psychological weight, and where the protagonist’s journey is not toward victory but toward truth, however brutal that truth may be.
Derek Kolstad is a screenwriter and creator best known for shaping modern action cinema through his work on the John Wick franchise, where his stripped‑down storytelling, emotional clarity, and precision‑engineered action sequences helped redefine the genre. His writing blends noir fatalism with character‑driven stakes, focusing on ordinary men pushed into extraordinary violence. Kolstad’s scripts are built around momentum, improvisation, and the psychological cost of survival, qualities that have made him one of the most influential action writers of the last decade. In Normal (2026), he collaborates again with Bob Odenkirk, crafting a tense, pressure‑cooker narrative set in a small town where corruption runs deep, and violence becomes the only language left. Kolstad’s work remains marked by structural discipline, tonal intelligence, and a fascination with the fragile line between justice and vengeance.
Bob Odenkirk is an actor, writer, and producer whose career spans sketch comedy, prestige drama, and, in a remarkable late‑career pivot, action cinema. After decades of acclaim for his sharp comedic instincts on Mr. Show and his layered dramatic work as Saul Goodman in Breaking Bad and Better Call Saul, Odenkirk reinvented himself with the action thriller Nobody, revealing a physical intensity and emotional vulnerability that reshaped his public persona. His work is defined by intelligence, timing, and a deep understanding of flawed, morally complex men. In Normal (2026), Odenkirk continues this evolution, co‑developing the story and embodying a protagonist shaped by regret, resilience, and the quiet desperation of a man trying—and failing—to outrun his past. His creative partnership with writer Derek Kolstad has become one of the most compelling actor‑writer collaborations in contemporary genre filmmaking.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on The Sheep Detectives – Reinventing a whodunnit detective story
The Sheep Detectives reimagines the whodunnit through a lens of absurdist charm, philosophical playfulness, and genre‑bending invention, proving that the detective story, one of cinema’s oldest narrative engines, can still be reinvented when approached with imagination and tonal daring.
In this mystery-comedy, a flock of sheep who, having spent their evenings listening to their shepherd read murder mysteries aloud, suddenly find themselves investigating his death, a conceit that allows the film to oscillate between satire, sincerity, and metafictional commentary on the detective genre itself.
Adapted from Leonie Swann’s 2005 novel Three Bags Full, the film inherits the book’s blend of pastoral atmosphere, gentle philosophical inquiry, and comic inversion of human logic, but expands it into a cinematic world that balances live‑action performance with expressive voice acting, creating a hybrid form that feels both whimsical and grounded.
The screenplay by Craig Mazin, whose writing ranges from sharp comedy (The Hangover Part II) to prestige drama (Chernobyl), brings a structural clarity and emotional intelligence to the adaptation, ensuring that the humour never undercuts the stakes and that the mystery remains genuinely engaging even as the film leans into its playful absurdity.
Mazin’s adaptation honours the novel’s philosophical undercurrent, the idea that animals observe human behaviour with a clarity humans often lack—while shaping a narrative that moves with the propulsion and elegance of a classic whodunnit.
The film’s inspiration is rooted not only in Swann’s novel but in the long tradition of anthropomorphic storytelling, from Aesop to Orwell to contemporary animated cinema, yet The Sheep Detectives distinguishes itself by refusing to treat its animals as mere comic relief; instead, it positions them as perceptive, emotionally complex observers whose investigation becomes a mirror held up to human folly, grief, and moral blindness.
Directed by Kyle Balda, best known for his work in animation, the film carries his signature precision in timing, character expression, and visual rhythm, but transposes those instincts into a live‑action framework enriched by animated sheep performances, resulting in a tonal fusion that feels fresh within contemporary studio filmmaking.
How Craig Mazin Crafted the Screenplay for The Sheep Detectives
Craig Mazin approached the screenplay for The Sheep Detectives with the same blend of structural discipline, emotional intelligence, and moral clarity that defines his work on the miniseries Chernobyl and the TV series The Last of Us.
He adapted those instincts to the film’s unusual tonal challenge: a mystery led by a flock of sheep. His first task was to treat the premise not as a novelty but as a serious narrative engine, grounding the story in character logic rather than whimsy.
Mazin began by identifying the emotional centre of Leonie Swann’s novel Three Bags Full: a community shaken by the death of their shepherd, and a flock trying to make sense of a world suddenly without its guiding presence. From that foundation, he built a screenplay that balances humour, melancholy, and genuine suspense, ensuring the sheep are never reduced to caricature but instead function as fully realized characters with distinct perspectives, fears, and loyalties.
Mazin’s craft process leaned heavily on point‑of‑view architecture. Because the sheep cannot speak to humans, he structured scenes around observation, inference, and misinterpretation, allowing comedy and tension to emerge from what the flock notices and what they misunderstand. This required a screenplay that is both playful and precise: every clue, every overheard conversation, every human gesture becomes a puzzle piece filtered through non‑human logic.
Mazin used this constraint as a creative advantage, building a mystery that unfolds through behavioural detail rather than exposition. The sheep’s limited understanding forces the audience to engage more actively, turning the film into a participatory detective story.
Tonally, Mazin crafted the script as a pastoral noir, a rural murder mystery where the landscape, the flock, and the village form a single ecosystem of secrets. He avoided leaning too far into parody or sentimentality, instead grounding the humour in character truth and the emotional stakes in the flock’s grief for their shepherd. This emotional through‑line gives the film weight: the investigation is not just a puzzle but a way for the sheep to process loss, loyalty, and the fragility of their world. Mazin’s instinct for moral complexity shapes the human characters as well; the villagers are not stock suspects but flawed individuals whose motives are tied to community tensions, buried histories, and the quiet resentments of small‑town life.
Structurally, Mazin built the screenplay around clean escalation. Each chapter of the investigation deepens both the mystery and the flock’s internal dynamics, rivalries, fears, shifting alliances, mirroring the way he constructs character‑driven tension in his prestige television work. The humour arises organically from the sheep’s personalities, while the suspense grows from the slow revelation of the shepherd’s hidden past. By the final act, Mazin brings the emotional and procedural threads together, delivering a resolution that honours the novel’s charm while sharpening its cinematic stakes.
In essence, Mazin crafted The Sheep Detectives by treating its absurd premise with rigour, empathy, and narrative seriousness, creating a screenplay where comedy, mystery, and emotional resonance coexist — and where a flock of sheep becomes one of the most unexpectedly compelling detective ensembles in recent cinema.
Craig Mazin is a screenwriter and producer whose career spans sharp studio comedies, high‑stakes genre films, and prestige television. After early success writing broad comedy, Mazin reinvented his creative identity with the critically acclaimed HBO limited series Chernobyl, which earned him global recognition for its emotional rigour, structural mastery, and moral clarity. He continued this trajectory as co‑creator of HBO’s The Last of Us, further establishing himself as a writer capable of merging genre with profound human storytelling. His screenplay for The Sheep Detectives showcases his versatility, balancing mystery, humour, and philosophical nuance while honouring the spirit of Leonie Swann’s novel. Mazin’s work is marked by meticulous construction, tonal intelligence, and a deep interest in how ordinary people navigate extraordinary circumstances.
Director Kyle Balda is best known for his work in animation, where his precise sense of timing, character expression, and visual rhythm helped shape global hits such as Despicable Me, Minions, and The Lorax. Beginning his career at Pixar and later becoming a key creative force at Illumination, Balda developed a reputation for blending emotional clarity with comedic sharpness. His transition into hybrid and live‑action‑inflected storytelling demonstrates his interest in expanding the boundaries of animated performance and genre. As director of The Sheep Detectives, Balda brings a playful yet disciplined sensibility to the adaptation, balancing whimsy with narrative precision and crafting a world where tonal invention and character‑driven storytelling coexist with ease.
The Devil Wears Prada 2 arrives as one of the most anticipated returns to a cinematic world that has, since 2006, shaped how audiences understand the intersection of fashion, power, ambition, and personal reinvention.
Twenty years after making their iconic turns as Miranda, Andy, Emily and Nigel—Meryl Streep, Anne Hathaway, Emily Blunt and Stanley Tucci return to the fashionable streets of New York City and the sleek offices of Runway Magazine in 20th Century Studios’ The Devil Wears Prada 2, the eagerly awaited sequel to the 2006 phenomenon that defined a generation.
The film is directed by David Frankel, written by Aline Brosh McKenna, produced by Wendy Finerman, and executive produced by Michael Bederman, Karen Rosenfelt and Aline Brosh McKenna.
“The question of how Miranda Priestly would preside over the demise of her empire became fascinating to us. How long do you keep doing this? When is it time to go? Or for Andy Sachs—20 years after you’ve thrown your phone into a fountain and walked away from Runway to work at a newspaper, what would it take for you to go back? We wanted to explore the compromises that these characters have to make to maintain their careers. If the first movie was a bildungsroman where a young person is learning who they are in the world, the sequel is about a mature woman facing the reality of all the choices she’s made in her life,” says director David Frankel.
“Twenty years ago, we were all pretty convinced that we shouldn’t do a sequel,” says Aline Brosh McKenna. “Everybody was happy to let the film exist on its own. Then the world started to change and we were all aware that these characters—who we thought about often and were still very present for us after all these years—that their lives would’ve changed quite a bit. So, it started to become more interesting to think about what they’d be doing and how they would deal with the new circumstances of the world that we live in. And I think that’s what we were waiting for: something that allowed us to see these characters in a new light.”
“There’s something about this story and these characters and their journeys that seems to inspire joy. There’s a wish fulfilment to it, but there’s also something very joyful and exciting about watching someone like Andy go for her dreams. I know a lot of people were inspired by her journey the first time, and I hope they can identify with her and the choices that she makes. She’s a grown woman now, and she has a different point of view, but in some ways, she’s still that cheerful, hopeful, optimistic lady that she was in the first film. So, it is as fun and joyful a movie as you can make about the implosion of several workplaces at the same time.”
How Aline Brosh McKenna Writes a Screenplay, and How That Informs Prada 2
Aline Brosh McKenna wrote the screenplay for The Devil Wears Prada, and by extension, the sequel, using a process that blends sharp structural discipline with emotional intelligence, character‑driven architecture, and a journalist’s instinct for observing how power actually works inside institutions.
McKenna approaches screenwriting with a blend of classical Hollywood structure and contemporary emotional nuance. Her process begins with deep research, especially when adapting a novel.
For the first film, she immersed herself in Lauren Weisberger’s book, the culture of fashion magazines, and the lived experiences of assistants, editors, and creative directors. For the sequel, she draws from Weisberger’s follow‑up novel Revenge Wears Prada: The Devil Returns, but she does not treat the book as a rigid blueprint. Instead, she identifies the emotional spine, the core conflict among ambition, identity, and mentorship, and then builds a cinematic narrative around it.
McKenna is known for her character‑first outlining. Before she writes scenes, she maps out what each character wants, what they fear, what they hide, and what they must confront. In the Prada universe, this means understanding Andy, Miranda, Emily, and Nigel not as archetypes but as evolving human beings shaped by time, industry shifts, and personal growth. She has said in interviews that she always asks: What is the emotional cost of success for this character? What is the price of reinvention? These questions drive her structural decisions.
Her outlines are famously detailed and architectural; she builds the film beat by beat, ensuring that every scene turns the story, escalates conflict, or reveals a contradiction. She uses a three‑act structure but treats it flexibly, allowing character arcs to dictate pacing. For Prada 2, this means the story is not simply a nostalgic return but a confrontation with the modern realities of digital media, branding, and the shifting power dynamics between generations of women in leadership.
McKenna also writes with a strong sense of dialogue rhythm. She crafts lines that are sharp, witty, and emotionally loaded without ever feeling overwritten. Her dialogue often reveals status, hierarchy, and vulnerability in the same breath. Miranda’s clipped precision, Andy’s earnest intelligence, Emily’s brittle ambition. These voices are distinct because McKenna builds them from psychological truth rather than caricature.
Another hallmark of her process is collaboration with actors and directors. During the first film, she worked closely with Meryl Streep, Anne Hathaway, Emily Blunt, and Stanley Tucci, adjusting scenes to match their instincts and deepen the emotional stakes. Streep famously contributed to the creation of Miranda’s quiet, lethal tone—something McKenna embraced and rewrote around. For the sequel, with David Frankel returning as director, McKenna’s writing is shaped by a shared understanding of tone: elegant, sharp, emotionally grounded, and visually expressive.
McKenna also writes with a strong sense of theme. In her work, from Prada to Crazy Ex‑Girlfriend, she interrogates ambition, identity, reinvention, and the tension between personal and professional selves. For Prada 2, the thematic engine is reinvention in a world where the rules have changed. She explores how women navigate power differently in 2026: the pressures of digital visibility, the collapse of print prestige, the rise of branding as identity, and the emotional cost of maintaining relevance.
Her process includes multiple drafts, each one refining structure, tightening dialogue, and sharpening emotional clarity. She has said she rewrites “relentlessly,” often discovering the film’s true shape only after several iterations. She also tests scenes for emotional truth—if a moment feels false, sentimental, or convenient, she rewrites until it earns its place.
Finally, McKenna writes with a deep respect for tone.The Devil Wears Prada is not a satire, not a comedy, not a drama—it is a tonal hybrid. She balances glamour with grit, humour with heartbreak, aspiration with critique. For the sequel, she preserves that tonal DNA while updating it for a world where fashion is no longer just an industry but a global digital ecosystem.
Aline Brosh McKenna is an acclaimed screenwriter, producer, and director, best known for her sharp, character‑driven storytelling and her ability to adapt complex material into emotionally resonant, commercially successful films. A six‑week screenwriting course at New York University changed her trajectory: the script she wrote there helped her secure an agent, and by age 26, she had sold both a feature screenplay and a TV pilot. She relocated to Los Angeles in 1991, where she continued developing her craft, writing for television, including an episode of All‑American Girl, before her first produced film, Three to Tango, was released in 1999.
Her breakthrough came with her adaptation of Lauren Weisberger’s novel The Devil Wears Prada into the 2006 film. McKenna was the fifth and final writer hired to adapt the novel, and the first woman, ultimately delivering the version that became a cultural phenomenon. The film earned her a BAFTA nomination for Best Adapted Screenplay and established her reputation for writing sharp, emotionally layered workplace narratives. She has described the film not as a romantic comedy but as “competence porn,” emphasising Andy’s journey toward self‑knowledge and professional clarity. McKenna went on to write several successful films, including 27 Dresses (2008), Morning Glory (2010), and We Bought a Zoo (2011). She later co‑created the critically acclaimed musical‑comedy series Crazy Ex‑Girlfriend, which showcased her versatility as a storyteller and earned widespread praise for its innovative structure and emotional intelligence. She continues to work across film and television, most recently writing and producing new projects while remaining a central creative force behind The Devil Wears Prada’s enduring legacy.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Beast – Bringing A Fighter’s Tale To Life
Beast refuses the glossy triumphalism that often defines the genre and instead embraces a raw, bruised realism that interrogates the emotional, physical, and existential cost of fighting as both a profession and an identity.
During the production of Land of Bad on the Gold Coast in September 2022, Russell Crowe and writer-producer David Frigerio were locked in the grind—long days of filming followed by longer nights rewriting Crowe’s Reaper character. The energy on set was fierce, the collaboration alive with momentum. Amid the chaos, Frigerio saw an opening. With Dan Macpherson already on board, he pitched Crowe his next project, Beast, and sent him an early draft.
After the Land of Bad shoot, Crowe’s reply came back unfiltered and unmistakably his, “Mate, there’s a good story there, but we can make it great. When can you get to Sydney?”
Frigerio didn’t blink. “When the best actor in the world asks when you can come to see him, you don’t wait.” That night, he booked a one-way flight from Los Angeles. Fifteen hours later, he was in Sydney, ready to work. For two relentless weeks, Crowe and Frigerio lived in the script.
They worked eighteen-hour days fueled by coffee and creative obsession. Scenes were built, torn apart, and rebuilt stronger. Each pass pushed the story closer to something real. Between writing sessions, they traded stories from the trenches, Cinderella Man, Gladiator, LA Confidential, etc…lessons from legendary boxing trainer, CusD’Amato, and long talks about legacy, redemption, and the price of greatness.
By the end, the exhaustion was total, but so was the reward. The two had forged a deep creative bond born from mutual respect and shared fire. What emerged wasn’t just a new draft—it was a story that pulsed with life, raw emotion, and purpose. Beast became more than a script. It became a mission. A story worth fighting for.
From there, Frigerio, along with fellow producers John Schwarz, Michael Schwarz and Tim O’Hair, set out to develop a film that wasn’t just another fight drama but one rooted in authenticity. Inspired by classics like ROCKY, WARRIOR and THE FIGHTER, they wanted BEAST to capture the grit, spirit and sacrifice behind combat sports.
“We’re telling a story through combat sports, and we’re using the drama of the conflict to tell that story,” explains John Schwarz.
On behalf of our team, I present BEAST. In directing this film, I drew from my own lived experiences of struggle, redemption, and the search for belonging.
BEAST tells the story through the eyes of Patton, a former MMA fighter who walked away from the spotlight after being incarcerated for many years, in search of a more honest life. The film reflects what it means to live with the weight of your past while still finding the strength to chase your own dreams, and I hope the audience feels that intense journey of isolation, pressure, release, and hope alongside him.
I explore this world not only through Patton but also through the eyes of his wife, Luciana, who watches her husband lose his spark in life. Their relationship becomes a powerful lens into love, sacrifice, marriage, and the pressures of survival. Patton’s complex relationship with his coach, Sammy (Russell Crowe), further deepens this exploration, embodying themes of tough love, forgiveness, and the hope of reconciliation.
We shot the film across Australia and Thailand, two regions that provide not only stunning cinematic backdrops but also a visceral sense of atmosphere that heightens the intensity of the story. The hard, raw coastal landscapes of Australia, combined with the vibrant yet unforgiving environments of Thailand, mirror Patton’s internal struggles. I used super-speed lenses, handheld and steadicam work, laced with drone footage to balance human intimacy with the scale of the large world around him.
These creative choices allow the audience to feel Patton’s isolation, his distortions of self, and his primal fight to reconnect with who he truly is.
For me, BEAST is not just about MMA—it is primal. It is about fighting for survival as our ancestors once did. It is about redemption, love, forgiveness, and family. These are themes I have searched for throughout my own life, and bringing them to the screen is both deeply personal and healing. MMA fighters embody the spirit of the modern-day gladiator, giving everything they have for their craft through discipline and repetition. With this film, I wanted to explore both the raw brutality and the unexpected beauty of a life where the real battles are fought not only in the cage, but in the quiet struggles of everyday existence.
I believe this story resonates as more than a sports drama; it is a meditation on the human condition. BEAST reminds us that even in the shadows of complete darkness, there is always a path back to love, light, forgiveness, and family—and that we can find the courage to keep chasing the dreams that refuse to die within us.
BEAST follows ex-con Patton James (Daniel MacPherson), who abandoned his mixed martial arts dream to support his wife, Luciana (Kelly Gale), and daughter. When Patton’s brother Malon suffers a serious injury in a fight to make good on his debts, Patton has to risk everything to get back in the ring to avenge him. But to reclaim his old glory and succeed in the ONE Championship, Patton must regain the trust of his ace trainer (Russell Crowe) and keep his own family together
How Russell Crowe and David Frigerio Crafted the Screenplay for Beast
Russell Crowe and David Frigerio approached the screenplay for Beast with a shared commitment to grounding the story in the lived reality of combat sports, shaping a script that blends bruised masculinity, emotional interiority, and the unforgiving physics of mixed martial arts.
Their collaboration begins with Crowe’s instinct for character, his long‑standing fascination with men who carry their histories in their bodies, whose emotional landscapes are shaped by regret, loyalty, and the slow erosion of physical power. Crowe writes from the inside out: he starts with the psychological wound, the unspoken shame, the unresolved fracture that defines a man’s choices. For Beast, that meant building a protagonist whose life has been shaped by violence, whose identity is inseparable from the cage, and whose journey is less about victory than about confronting the ghosts that have followed him out of it.
Crowe’s writing tends to privilege emotional truth over plot mechanics, so his early drafts focused on the internal architecture of the characters—their relationships, their betrayals, their private rituals, their unspoken debts.
Frigerio, by contrast, brings a structural and genre‑driven discipline to the collaboration. Known for high‑stakes thrillers and muscular genre pieces, he approaches story like an engineer: mapping beats, calibrating tension, and ensuring that every emotional turn is supported by narrative propulsion. Where Crowe leans into the wounded soul of the fighter, Frigerio ensures the story moves with the rhythm of a sports drama—training sequences that escalate pressure, confrontations that reveal character, and a narrative spine that builds toward an inevitable reckoning. His contribution is the scaffolding: the pacing, the escalation, the architecture of conflict. Together, they form a complementary pair, Crowe shaping the emotional musculature, Frigerio shaping the bones.
Their process was also deeply informed by ONE Championship, whose world provided not only the film’s setting but its thematic inspiration. Crowe and Frigerio spent time studying fighters, coaches, and the backstage rituals of MMA, observing how athletes prepare, how they break, how they rebuild, and how the sport’s culture shapes their identities. This research fed directly into the screenplay’s texture: the language of the gym, the hierarchy of respect, the psychological warfare, the economic precarity, and the way fighters carry both pride and trauma in equal measure. They were particularly drawn to the idea that MMA is not merely a sport but a crucible, one that exposes a person’s deepest fears and desires. This became the thematic engine of the script.
Crowe’s influence is most visible in the screenplay’s emotional density. He writes dialogue that is spare, weighted, and often elliptical, lines that reveal more in what is withheld than what is spoken. His characters rarely explain themselves; instead, their histories leak through in gestures, silences, and the physicality of their interactions. He also brings a performer’s instinct to the writing, shaping scenes with an eye toward how actors will inhabit them, how breath and stillness can carry as much power as action. Frigerio’s influence appears in the screenplay’s momentum. He ensures that the emotional beats are embedded within a clear narrative trajectory: the fall, the call to return, the training, the confrontation, the cost. He shapes the film’s stakes not only through physical danger but through the consequences of failure, financial, familial, and psychological. His structural discipline keeps the story from collapsing into introspection; instead, it moves with the urgency of a man running out of time.
Their collaboration also reflects a shared respect for authenticity. They avoided stylised, superheroic fight choreography and instead wrote sequences that reflect real MMA technique—clinches, ground‑and‑pound, exhaustion, strategy, and the brutal calculus of survival. They wrote the fights not as spectacle but as character expression: every strike reveals something, every round is a psychological chapter.
The screenplay’s emotional core—its exploration of aging, regret, and the fragile masculinity of fighters whose bodies are no longer obedient—comes from Crowe. The screenplay’s shape, its pacing, its escalation, and its narrative clarity come from Frigerio. The world‑building, the gyms, the arenas, the rituals, the culture, comes from their shared immersion in ONE Championship.
Together, they crafted a screenplay that is not merely a sports drama but a study of identity under pressure. Their writing process fused Crowe’s instinct for wounded humanity with Frigerio’s command of genre mechanics, resulting in a film that feels both intimate and explosive, both character‑driven and physically visceral.
In the end, Beast is shaped by the tension between two creative forces: one writing from the heart, the other from the spine, both committed to telling a story where violence is never empty, and every punch carries the weight of a life lived in the shadow of the cage.
RUSSELL CROWE is an Academy Award winner who is regarded as one of the finest actors of our time. He is celebrated for his versatility, intensity, and powerful performances across various genres. His many acting honours include three consecutive Best Actor Oscar nominations for his work in the acclaimed 1999 drama The Insider; the 2000 Best Picture winner Gladiator, for which he took home the Oscar; and Best Picture winner A Beautiful Mind in 2001.
Born in New Zealand but raised Australia, it was there that Crowe gained international attention for his work on the big screen. He was recognised three consecutive years by the AFI, starting in 1990, when he was nominated for Best Actor for The Crossing; in 1991 when he won Best Supporting Actor for Proof and the following year winning the Best Actor Awards from both the AFI and the Australian Film Critics for his performance in Romper Stomper.
The 1993 Seattle International Film Festival not only named him Best Actor for his work in Romper Stomper but in Hammers Over the Anvil too. Crowe’s American film debut was in Sam Raimi’s 1995 western, The Quick and the Dead and later went on to earn acclaim for his role in Curtis Hanson’s crime drama L.A. Confidential. His early film credits include Mystery, Alaska, Heaven’s Burning, Virtuosity, The Sum of Us, For the Moment, Love in Limbo, The Silver Brumby, The Efficiency Expert and Prisoners of the Sun. Crowe has since starred in a long and diverse list of film and television credits capturing audiences worldwide. Crowe started his career as a musician with his first record release in 1982. He has played with various bands over the years, releasing 5 albums, and is currently the lead singer of Indoor Garden Party. The first Indoor Garden Party album The Musical came out 2017. Their follow up album, Prose and Cons was released in 2024. The band toured extensively in Australia in 2023 and have played numerous international gigs including the Karlovy Vary Festival for 15,000 people and Italy’s Sanremo Festival. Last year, Indoor Garden Party toured Italy, Ireland, England, France, Scotland and the United States which included concerts at iconic venues such as the Colosseum in Rome and the ancient amphitheater in Pompeii.
In 2005, Crowe reunited with Howard in Cinderella Man, and his portrayal of Jim Braddock earned him both Golden Globe and SAG nominations and won him the Australian Film Institute (AFI) Award for Best Actor.
Crowe made his directorial debut in 2015 with the sweeping epic The Water Diviner, in which he also starred. The film won three Australian Academy of Cinema and Television Arts Awards, including Best Picture. His second directorial film Poker Face, a thriller in which he also stars, was released in 2022. Crowe starred in James Vanderbilt’s historical thriller Nuremberg, and wrapped production on several films including the Netflix thriller Unabom; Walden Media’s Cold War thriller Billion Dollar Spy; the action thriller Bear Country; the sports action film Beast in Me; and the period epic The Weight. He next stars opposite Henry Cavill in Amazon MGM Studios’ Highlander.
Recent films include: Sony/Marvels’ Kraven the Hunter, the action-thriller Land of Bad; the thriller Sleeping Dogs; the supernatural thriller The Pope’s Exorcist; and in Apple’s The Greatest Beer Run Ever, directed by Peter Farrelly. He also played ‘Zeus’ in Taika Waititi’s Thor: Love and Thunder.
Additional film credits include Solstice’s psychological thriller Unhinged; Jed Kurzel’s The True History of the Kelly Gang, Universal’s The Mummy, Joel Edgerton’s Boy Erased, The Nice Guys, Darren Aronofsky’s biblical drama Noah; Gabriele Muccino’s Fathers & Daughters; Akiva Goldsman’s Winter’s Tale; Zack Snyder’s Man of Steel; Tom Hooper’s acclaimed screen adaptation of the musical Les Miserables; and Allen Hughes’ Broken City. He has worked on several Ridley Scott-directed projects such as A Good Year, American Gangster, Body of Lies and Robin Hood. Among his other credits are Peter Weir’s Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World, for which he earned a Golden Globe nomination; Taylor Hackford’s Proof of Life; James Mangold’s 3:10 to Yuma, Kevin Macdonald’s State of Play, Paul Haggis’ The Next Three Days; and in RZA’s The Man with the Iron Fists.
On the television side, Crowe received rave reviews for his performance as Roger Ailes in Showtime’s The Loudest Voice, starring opposite Naomi Watts and Sienna Miller. He won the Golden Globe for Best Actor in a Mini-Series or Motion Picture for TV and received SAG and Critics Choice award nominations.
David Frigerio is an American-Italian screenwriter, film producer, and the founder of Broken Open Pictures, a Manhattan Beach, California-based production company. With a keen eye for high-octane storytelling and character-driven narratives, Frigerio has built a reputation for delivering compelling and commercially successful films. Frigerio wrote the script and is producing, with Tyler Atkins directing. In a groundbreaking collaboration, BEAST has partnered with ONE Championship, the world’s largest MMA fight organisation, to bring an authentic and electrifying depiction of the sport to the big screen.
One of his most recent ventures, the action-thriller LAND OF BAD, which he co-wrote and produced alongside director William Eubank, showcased his ability to craft gripping narratives. Frigerio’s work also includes BAD HOMBRES, which won the Grand Jury Prize at the Mammoth Film Festival. One of Frigerio’s early career breakthroughs came with THE SIGNAL, a critically acclaimed sci-fi thriller he co-wrote. With a career defined by bold storytelling and genre-defining films, David Frigerio continues to make waves in Hollywood, pushing the boundaries of independent filmmaking
Tyler Atkins is an Australian filmmaker known for crafting emotionally resonant narratives that explore themes of identity, resilience, and human connection. Atkins’ debut feature, BOSCH & ROCKIT marked a significant milestone in his career. He wrote, directed, and produced the semi-autobiographical drama, which was among the first Australian productions to successfully film during the COVID-19 pandemic. Following this success, Atkins has recently directed BEAST. In 2019, Tyler worked on the upcoming TV series, SHANTARAM, for Apple TV+. He began in the Writers’ Room under Eric Warren Singer (American Hustle), then moved to the Director’s Team, assisting JustinK urzel (Snowtown).
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Brothers Under Fire -The Fire That Tests Brotherhood
Brothers Under Fire (Sierra Madre) was a chance to make an action film that was character-based, on themes that questioned immigration, citizenship and the American dream, says director Justin Chadwick.
In the film Captain Jordan Wright (Kiefer Sutherland) and his U.S. Special Infantry squad are granted leave from their mission to watch their gunner-medic Alberto (Tommy Martinez) get married in a small South American town. Tragedy strikes when Alberto is ruthlessly killed during the celebrations. Heartbroken but resolute, the squad vows to defend the town and avenge their fallen comrade against the cruel Cartel leader, Baker (Omar Chaparro), who has put the town under siege. Rallying the townspeople and utilizing their tactical expertise, they begin to undermine the Cartel’s grip. With Baker’s forces closing in from all sides, Wright’s men defend their own and risk everything in a full scale battle to protect the only family the Captain has left.
Brothers Under Fire occupies a significant place in contemporary war cinema because it reframes the familiar narrative of soldiers in crisis through a lens of moral disorientation, fractured masculinity, and the uneasy entanglement between personal ritual and geopolitical violence, using the chaos of a cartel ambush not as spectacle but as a pressure chamber that exposes the psychological seams of a modern military unit.
The film rejects the triumphalist arc that often defines American war stories and instead traces the slow erosion of command, trust, and identity as a group of soldiers—initially traveling to Mexico for a wedding—are forced into a survival scenario that strips them of structure, hierarchy, and certainty. Its significance lies in how it positions the Sierra Madre region not as a mythic frontier but as a liminal space where national borders, moral codes, and personal histories collapse, leaving only the raw, unmediated instinct to endure.
The film’s tension emerges from this collapse: the soldiers’ training becomes both their salvation and their curse, enabling tactical survival while intensifying the paranoia, aggression, and emotional shutdown that prevent them from functioning as a coherent unit.
In this way, Brothers Under Fire becomes a study of the psychological aftershocks of militarisation, suggesting that the battlefield is not a place but a condition that follows these men wherever they go. Its significance also extends to its portrayal of violence: the film refuses stylisation, presenting conflict as abrupt, disorienting, and morally ambiguous, emphasising the human cost rather than the tactical choreography.
This approach aligns the film with the post‑9/11 lineage of war narratives—works like The Hurt Locker and Lone Survivor—yet it distinguishes itself by situating the violence within a civilian context, forcing the audience to confront the uncomfortable proximity between military intervention and the everyday lives of those caught in its wake.
Thematically, the film interrogates the idea of brotherhood, revealing it not as a sentimental bond but as a fragile, often volatile pact forged under duress, one that can fracture as easily as it forms. Sutherland’s character embodies this tension: a leader whose authority is constantly undermined by circumstance, guilt, and the impossible task of protecting men who no longer believe in the mission, the terrain, or themselves.
Shot in Colombia, the film’s visual language reinforces this instability, using dense forests, shifting light, and claustrophobic compositions to evoke a world where orientation—moral, spatial, emotional—is perpetually slipping.
Brothers Under Fire is significant because it refuses to offer resolution; instead, it leaves the audience with the unsettling recognition that survival does not guarantee meaning, and that the true battlefield is the interior landscape each man must navigate long after the gunfire stops.
The screenplay for was written by Delbert Hancock and Ian Mackenzie Jeffers.
Director’s Statement
As we developed the project, themes of family, friendship and love emerged. Our starting point was a true story of a young South American soldier who was killed just after he’d been given U.S. citizenship, after he’d served three tours in combat. Our low budget was challenging but also gave us an opportunity to tell a story of a group of soldiers dropping into a real community. Their presence in that community leads to devastating consequences. We shot the film in four weeks in a remote, mountainous part of Colombia, using a talented group of first-time filmmakers as heads of departments. Apart from the first-time director of photography and first-time editor from the UK, all the crew were Colombian. Their expertise was invaluable to the way we shot the film. We were keen to set the film in a real environment in a real community using non-actors and local talent. Many of the scenes were improvised. Our Colombian team were keen to help tell a story that deals with the families that are dealing with modern day cartels, and the problems arising out of globalization.
Justin Chadwick is an English actor‑turned‑director whose career bridges British television, prestige literary adaptations, and large‑scale historical drama. Beginning as a child actor with Bolton Little Theatre, he transitioned into directing after studying at Leicester Polytechnic, building early credits on series such as EastEnders, Byker Grove, The Bill, Spooks, and Red Cap. His breakthrough came with the BBC’s Bleak House (2005), where his dynamic visual style and performance‑driven approach earned him nominations for a Primetime Emmy, a BAFTA for Best Direction, and multiple Royal Television Society awards. Chadwick went on to direct The Other Boleyn Girl (2008), The First Grader (2010), Mandela: Long Walk to Freedom (2013), and Tulip Fever (2017), establishing himself as a filmmaker drawn to stories of resilience, political struggle, and intimate human transformation. His work on Brothers Under Fire (2026) continues this trajectory, bringing his actor‑centric sensibility and textured realism to a contemporary survival narrative.
Delbert Hancock is a screenwriter best known for co‑writing the film originally titled Sierra Madre—later released as Brothers Under Fire. Although biographical information about Hancock remains limited in public archives, his credited work positions him within the emerging generation of writers contributing to modern action‑survival cinema. His association with the project places him alongside established genre voices and suggests a creative interest in stories shaped by pressure, violence, and the psychological unraveling of men in extreme environments. His profile on IMDb lists Sierra Madre as his primary produced work, marking him as a writer whose career is still unfolding and whose contributions to Brothers Under Fire represent his most visible entry into the industry to date.
Ian Mackenzie Jeffers is a novelist, playwright, screenwriter, and producer whose work often explores survival, masculinity, and the elemental confrontation between humans and hostile environments. He is best known for writing The Grey—both the original novella and the screenplay for the 2011 film starring Liam Neeson—which established his reputation for stripped‑down, psychologically intense narratives. Jeffers’ background spans theatre and fiction, and his writing is marked by a stark, existential tone that examines the internal fractures of men pushed to their limits. His involvement in Brothers Under Fire extends this thematic lineage, bringing his signature interest in endurance, fear, and moral ambiguity into a new geopolitical context. Beyond film, he continues to develop novels, screenplays, and stage works, maintaining a multidisciplinary creative presence.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Lee Cronin’s The Mummy – an audacious and twisted retelling
Lee Cronin’s The Mummy reimagines one of cinema’s most enduring monsters through the lens of a filmmaker known for atmospheric dread, emotional violence, and mythic horror.
Conceived as a bold new chapter in Universal’s ongoing effort to resurrect its classic monster universe, the film draws inspiration from both the 1932 original and the ancient‑curse mythology that has haunted popular culture for nearly a century.
Cronin approaches the material not as a spectacle‑driven adventure but as a psychological descent—an excavation of grief, obsession, and the terrifying persistence of the past. His vision is shaped by the same sensibilities that defined Evil Dead Rise: intimate human stakes, tactile supernatural menace, and a world where the boundaries between the living and the dead erode with unnerving ease.
Written and directed by Lee Cronin, the film marks a significant tonal shift for the franchise
Instead of leaning on the bombast of previous reboots, Cronin crafts a story rooted in character, atmosphere, and the slow, inevitable tightening of dread. His screenplay draws from archaeological history, ancient funerary rites, and the psychological weight of unearthing what should remain buried. The film’s significance lies in its reclamation of The Mummy as a horror property—an opportunity to restore the creature’s mythic terror while exploring the emotional vulnerabilities that make humans susceptible to ancient forces. Cronin’s approach positions the film as both a reinvention and a return to origins, honouring the monster’s legacy while carving out a distinctly modern identity.
The production embraces a grounded, tactile aesthetic: sand‑choked tombs, dimly lit excavation tunnels, and ritual chambers carved with symbols that seem to shift when unobserved. Cronin’s fascination with domestic spaces invaded by supernatural forces translates here into archaeological spaces invaded by human arrogance. The film’s emotional core is built around the idea that the past is not dead—it is waiting, listening, and hungry. By centring the narrative on flawed, haunted characters rather than invincible adventurers, Lee Cronin’s The Mummy becomes a story about the cost of disturbing ancient grief and the monstrous forms it can take.
Its significance within the broader monster canon is clear: it repositions The Mummy as a creature of sorrow as much as rage, a being whose resurrection is not merely a curse but a tragic echo of a life violently interrupted. Cronin’s film stands as a reminder that horror thrives not only in spectacle but in the quiet, suffocating spaces where memory and myth collide.
When a long‑sealed burial chamber is uncovered beneath the shifting sands of Saqqara, archaeologist Dr. Mara Ellison (played by Lupita Nyong’o) and her estranged colleague Daniel Mercer (Oscar Isaac) inadvertently awaken an ancient priestess, Amunet (Sofia Boutella), whose death was the result of a forbidden ritual erased from history. As Amunet’s spirit begins to reclaim her fragmented body, the desert erupts with supernatural phenomena—sandstorms that whisper, shadows that move against the light, and hieroglyphs that bleed.
With the boundaries between worlds collapsing, Mara and Daniel must confront their own buried pasts while racing to stop Amunet from completing the ritual that will restore her fully and unleash a plague of resurrection across the modern world. The film builds toward a harrowing confrontation in the heart of the necropolis, where the living and the dead collide in a battle shaped by grief, desire, and the terrible weight of history.
In Conversation with Lee Cronin
GENESIS
LEE CRONIN: One of the things for me that I enjoy about being a filmmaker is not necessarily knowing what’s around the corner. And I didn’t necessarily think making a movie about a mummy or a movie called THE MUMMY would be next up on my dance card until conversation started around the topic of how maybe there hasn’t been a truly terrifying version made before. That drew my interest in, but as always, I needed to find a story. And once I did that—I found a piece of lore, a set of characters I was interested in, a story that takes place at two different times around the same people—I started to get really engaged and involved with what this thing could become. And it’s always hard to quantify or put your finger on, but a story at that point, if it gets its claws under your skin like it’s got you, I find it hard to let go.
Lee Cronin during the filming of Lee Cronin’s The Mummy. Photo Courtesy Warner Bros. Pictures.
LEE CRONIN: With this film, I wanted to tell a story about a buried secret. The Mummy’s in Egyptian lore. They’re always about secrets, things that you discover later on, but I also knew it wasn’t going to be something that was going to take place over 3,000 or 4,000 years, even though there is lore and elements of this story that do have that depth buried in the mystery. There are connections that go back thousands and thousands of years, but the key story is about someone who goes missing and gets returned, not necessarily sooner than expected, but sooner than an entire lifetime having passed. So, it felt like investigating that mystery—being able to get under the skin of that—was going to be a really interesting part and a real point of difference in this movie, and something I’ve always loved and enjoyed.
LEVELS
LEE CRONIN: I wanted to tell something that had more than just an A narrative, but also had other things going on within the background. So, there is a big detective angle to this, which is maybe a little different to a conventional horror movie that you might watch, whilst also having a lot of the traditional haunted house elements at play. The movie in my mind as I approached it was some sort of combination between POLTERGEIST and SE7EN—SE7EN encapsulating the more hard-boiled detective side of things, and some of the darker body horror, too, and then POLTERGEIST in terms of the exceptional circumstances that are faced. And then with the family in this movie, POLTERGEIST was also a touchpoint for capturing the domestic relationships and also the heart that was in place between the family. I definitely wanted to mash up some really dark themes with some warmth. And I always think family is a great way into a story, especially a horror story, because it’s something that we can all identify with.
A MONSTER IN DAYLIGHT
LEE CRONIN: This movie is a monster movie and the creation of the monster in your movie is always of really great importance. One of the things I knew is that I wanted to put this monster in full daylight and for the audience to experience and for the family to experience something unknown, something that’s there, something that seems off, but hasn’t fully revealed itself yet. And again, the concept within the movie, it lent itself to this slow unbinding, versus a sudden explosion of horror right on your face. The design of the monster was inspired by this idea of a secret that’s buried. The layers have settled and—initially to the eye and the focus of the people who love Katie when she’s returned—it’s about making her better, healing her skin, healing her flesh, making her more comfortable. Finding a way to communicate with her, but not recognizing that some of the things that are apparently wrong with her are actually connected to what happened to her in the first place.
LEE CRONIN: The look of the monster was also very much inspired by the mystery in the story, and I love when things like that happen, rather than just saying, “Hey, let’s make it scary. Let’s make it creepy.” There’s a purpose behind all the choices that we made. There’s a purpose behind the color her skin is when we first meet her and how it develops. It might seem like she’s getting healthier, where in reality she’s actually starting to decay in a different way. So, all of that—the various stages throughout the movie that we wanted to explore with the monstrous look—was pretty meticulously planned out from the start.
Lee Cronin during the filming of Lee Cronin’s The Mummy. Photo Courtesy Warner Bros. Pictures
HORROR
LEE CRONIN: This is a movie that plays a number of different horror chords and I’ve got history and renown for being someone that creates some pretty gory set pieces and some quite shocking imagery. And this movie is no different in many ways, but it also plays with psychology, dread and chills as well. I think when it comes to gore and to imagery that is really arresting and sticks in your mind, it has to be earned. It has to be based on context. I think for me, the simple equation is to find characters that people fall in love with, and then maybe you can start to turn the screw and do horrible things to them. Without that connectivity to the characters, I think gore fails. When I watch movies that don’t have any character, weight, depth, or dimensionality, I become disinterested very, very quickly.
LEE CRONIN: But I do think the power of gore and horror set pieces that sear into your mind is it’s all part of the experience. I try and think of the movies that I make and the stories that I tell as some sort of dark ride or roller coaster. And sometimes it’s silence, and sometimes it’s just clicking towards the corner… but sometimes you also just need to be hit very dramatically in the face and in your mind with something that completely raises your heart rate and changes how you’re feeling about the experience at the time. And, yeah, the power of a frightful image is something really special and unique that I always love to play with and use to bring the audience on a ride and to entertain as well.
LEE CRONIN: I think when you are trying to make great effect of horror scenes, there has to be something familiar about it, or at least for me, that’s what I’m always drawn to. So, if I look back at my last movie, EVIL DEAD RISE, there’s the infamous cheese grater scene, for example. I knew I wanted something domestic to be involved in the scene and to shock people, and I walked into my kitchen and hey, there’s the cheese grater. And it’s like, yeah, everybody has one in the kitchen. Everyone has a frame of context. This movie has some equally gnarly and unusual actions that take place, but again, always around slightly domestic things.
MASTERS OF HORROR
LEE CRONIN: It was really exciting to team up with Blumhouse and Atomic Monster, and with New Line, also who I had a working relationship with and have a continuing working relationship with in the horror space. It was a new departure for me working with Atomic Monster and Blumhouse—James Wan and Jason Blum—but I knew them by their reputation and their taste. They were brilliant partners and throughout the making of this movie, all I really felt was supported. They’re the sort of producers who hire a filmmaker because they believe in them and trust them and want to work with them, as opposed to second-guessing or questioning what you’re trying to create. And so, it was a really, really great experience.
BEHIND THE CAMERA
LEE CRONIN: [Production designer] Nick Bassett and I worked together originally on EVIL DEAD RISE, and really, really hit it off as collaborators. We’ve very similar tastes. We love things to feel lived in, real and worn, and for there to be layers of history, so there was no doubt in my mind that I was going to work with Nick again on this movie. We knew because of the elaborate nature of the project and the set pieces that we’d have to build quite a lot of sets to achieve what we wanted to achieve, and that would be very difficult to do on location. One of the great things about Nick is before you start building sets, you still go on location to look at things similar to your own ideas to gain insight, to learn, to look at details in the real world. So early on in the process, we took ourselves to different places and looked—we wandered around museums in Ireland and traveled to Spain and out to deserts for inspiration. Nick is so focused on the detail, and I think the world that he and his team created is really amazing. You can visualize a shot all you want, you can light it beautifully, but if what’s in front of the camera isn’t the way you want it to be, it will only ever be so good. Nick and his team are just brilliant at bringing just the right things in front of the lens.
LEE CRONIN: [Director of photography] Dave Garbett also became a collaborator on EVIL DEAD RISE and I had an incredible experience working with him. And I knew that I wanted Dave to come back and shoot this movie and hope he will continue to shoot movies alongside me moving forward. I could say the same about so many of the crew. Dave is a really fun-loving and entertaining person to work with, but also super focused, but never stressed. Always brings a real A game to the table, has an incredible eye, and is really good at taking my ideas and pushing them that little bit further. And there’s lots of things we wanted to experiment with on this movie. I love using split field diopters—something we did on EVIL DEAD RISE—and Dave loves it, too. I also knew I wanted to get really close and involved with some of the body horror moments and things that maybe were a little grosser on screen. And Dave brought these probe lenses to the table, which we ended up using in quite a number of different ways within the story. He’s always someone that’s got a new thought or idea around the corner. We did a lot of testing together as well, to kind of find the right look for the movie. As collaborators, we’re not people that just stop and go, “That will be okay.” We’re always trying to push the envelope. But look, all great filmmaking and DP teams tend to work that way, and Dave’s like a supreme talent, but also just a lovely person to be around for months on end.
LEE CRONIN: I loved working with [costume designer] Joanna Eatwell on this movie, because she’s so thoughtful in how she approaches things. And again, I’m a fan of texture and detail and so is she. She has a real wealth of experience. And one of the things across the board between me and Dave and Nick and Joanna was always looking at the overall color palette for this movie. Nothing’s random, nothing’s by accident. There are colors that track through with characters and backgrounds for a specific purpose, and how the costume is brought into that world is really important. And Joanna was always there to collaborate and look at the overall visuality we were trying to create, and where her department and her leadership could play a part. But she’s such a lovely person to work with day-to-day, and even when she was stressed, she’d make sure that I didn’t know it.
A ROOM IN THE DARK
LEE CRONIN: I’d like to think that the movies that I make are must-sees in theaters, because we go to so much effort to create a really big screen experience—the horror and the emotion, the set pieces, the vistas that are in the film. And I always think horror movies are best shared with the collective. You get that sense of movement and motion within a room when you get people screaming together, jumping together, popcorn flying at the same time. The cast, crew and I worked extremely hard to create something very much a big screen spectacle, an event, something that you need to see on the biggest screen and hear with the loudest speakers and to be watched with a collective. It’s all about just going to the movies and having a great time.
Growing up in the seaside town of Skerries, just outside Dublin, LEE CRONIN (Writer / Director / Executive Producer) had aspirations of being a fisherman, a clown, and a Ghostbuster. An early education in classic genre films led him to realize that moviemaking ticked all three boxes.
Having cut his teeth with numerous award-winning short films, Cronin’s debut feature The Hole in the Ground premiered at Sundance Film Festival in 2019 to critical acclaim. It was released by A24 and landed him a Saturn Award nomination for Breakthrough Director.
His sophomore feature Evil Dead Rise premiered at SXSW in 2023. It achieved critical and commercial success, grossing $150 million for Warner Bros. at the global box office and earned Cronin the Fangoria Chainsaw Award for Best Director.
Cronin lives in Ireland where he operates his freshly birthed production company Wicked/Good. This new entity produced his third feature film, the highly anticipated Lee Cronin’s The Mummy,set to be released this Spring by New Line Cinema/Warner Bros.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on The Super Mario Galaxy Movie
The Super Mario Galaxy Movie is an animated cosmic adventure set in the world of Super Mario Bros., serving as the highly anticipated follow‑up to The Super Mario Bros. Movie, which was released in 2023 and earned more than $1.3 billion worldwide.
Building on the enormous success of that film, this sequel expands the Mario universe beyond the Mushroom Kingdom and into the vast, star‑strewn reaches of outer space. Produced once again by Chris Meledandri of Illumination and Shigeru Miyamoto of Nintendo, the film continues the creative partnership that revitalized Mario’s cinematic presence for a global audience.
Returning filmmakers Aaron Horvath and Michael Jelenic step back into the director’s chairs, bringing their energetic visual style and character‑driven humour to a story that reaches for something grander, stranger, and more emotionally resonant. The screenplay is written by returning writer Matthew Fogel, whose playful, accessible storytelling now evolves into a more expansive narrative inspired by the beloved 2007 video game Super Mario Galaxy. Composer Brian Tyler also returns, weaving new cosmic themes into the musical identity he established in the first film, blending orchestral sweep with the nostalgic motifs of the Mario franchise.
The film draws its inspiration from the original game’s sense of wonder—its miniature planets, shifting gravity, and dreamlike starfields—while deepening the emotional core introduced in the 2023 film.
Where the first movie celebrated the kinetic joy of Mario’s world, The Super Mario Galaxy Movie embraces a more mythic tone, exploring themes of destiny, belonging, and the fragile balance of the universe. The introduction of Rosalina and the Lumas allows the story to expand into a cosmic fable, giving Mario’s journey a new emotional dimension as he confronts forces far larger than himself. The animation style reflects this shift, blending Illumination’s trademark expressiveness with a more painterly, celestial aesthetic that evokes the storybook‑cosmic textures of the game.
The film’s significance lies in its evolution of the Mario cinematic universe: it honours the humour and accessibility that made the first film a global hit while daring to explore deeper emotional territory, positioning the sequel as both a continuation and a bold expansion. By uniting returning filmmakers with a more ambitious narrative canvas, The Super Mario Galaxy Movie becomes a celebration of Nintendo’s most imaginative storytelling—a film that invites audiences to leap into the unknown and discover the beauty, danger, and wonder of the galaxy.
When Bowser uncovers the ancient Star Core and uses its power to tear the Mushroom Kingdom from its orbit, Mario (voiced by Chris Pratt) is launched into deep space. Rescued by the mysterious Rosalina (Cate Blanchett) aboard the Comet Observatory, he learns that the galaxy is fracturing under Bowser’s growing cosmic influence. Joined by Luigi (Charlie Day) and Princess Peach (Anya Taylor‑Joy), Mario travels across dazzling galaxies, restoring fragments of the Star Core while uncovering Rosalina’s hidden past. As Bowser’s ambitions threaten the universe itself, Mario must rise to a challenge unlike any he has faced before—one that will test his courage, his loyalty, and his place among the stars.
Let’s explore films that perfectly encapsulate the raw power and thought-provoking nature of this world-changing technological breakthrough from 2020 to 2026.
Part I explores films crafted from the 30s to the 60s. Part IIexplores films made during the 70s. Part IIItakes a look at the 80s and 90s, Part IV features films from the year 2000 to 2010, Part V explores films from 2011 to 2017, Part VI looks at films from 2018 & 2019, and Part VII explores the years 2020 to the present.
Set in 2038, the film follows a scientist who is trying to advance artificial intelligence a step further than human beings, all while bringing his wife back from the dead. A man secretly begins developing a robot that will be able to hold the consciousness of his deceased wife permanently. After learning from two initial attempts (J1 and J2), his final version (J3) is almost complete.
British science fiction film written and directed by Gavin Rothery, in his directorial debut.
In the year 2067, Earth has been devastated by climate change and an ongoing nuclear war. Only one city in the ruins of Australia has been able to hold out against these catastrophic changes, thanks to synthetic oxygen; but this oxygen is tainted and gradually causes a deadly affliction called “The Sickness”. After surviving traumatic time displacement, Ethan finds himself with a hand computer named Archie.
Australian science fiction film directed and written by Seth Larney from a treatment by Gavin Scott Davis (itself from Larney’s own idea)
Acclaimed filmmaker Leanne Pooley directs this insightful documentary examining the future of artificial intelligence and the impact it will have on our world. As computers continue to evolve at an ever-greater speed, they will have the capacity to design and program themselves. Without the help of humans, the next generation of computers will create new and smarter A.I. at an exponential pace. What will these technological developments mean for the future of mankind?
The documentary is about artificial intelligence and the biases that can be embedded into this technology. It states that there is a lack of legal structures for artificial intelligence and that as a result, human rights are being violated. It says that some algorithms and artificial intelligence technologies discriminate by race and gender statuses in domains such as housing, career opportunities, healthcare, credit, education, and legalities
The action takes place three years after the events of Attraction. A girl who was saved from death with the help of extraterrestrial technologies has unusual abilities now. The girl has become the object of the research conducted in secret laboratories of the Ministry of Defense. Julia’s new abilities attract not only people on Earth, they are becoming a threat to extraterrestrial civilizations
Russian science fiction action film directed and produced by Fyodor Bondarchuk
A romantic comedy that follows the story of a woman who becomes the target of an AI superintelligence. The film offers a humorous take on the potential consequences of artificial intelligence. Carol Peters, a young unemployed woman, finds her life changed when an artificial intelligence entity chooses her as a guinea pig for an experiment that will decide the future of humanity.
“Auto” is a self-driving taxi. An unemployed nerd critical of artificial intelligence. The film is a farcical comedy that deals with issues such as artificial intelligence, politics of labor, and tech culture
Post-apocalyptic survival-film. The story follows an aging man named Finch, a survivor in a now nearly uninhabitable Earth, who builds and teaches a robot to take care of his dog when he dies.
Directed by Miguel Sapochnik and written by Craig Luck and Ivor Powell. The film stars Tom Hanks.
Jake and Kyra live with their adoptive daughter Mika, as well as Yang, a robotic teenage boy. Jake and Kyra bought Yang, a culture unit, as a way for Mika to connect with her Chinese heritage through sharing stories and facts. Yang becomes unresponsive one day after a family dance competition, but he is no longer under warranty because they purchased him from defunct reseller Second Siblings instead of his original manufacturer, Brothers & Sisters Incorporated. Jake, whose tea shop is struggling, seeks an affordable way to repair Yang.
The film is set sixty years after Revolutions and follows Neo, who lives a seemingly ordinary life as a video game developer having trouble with distinguishing fantasy from reality. A group of rebels, with the help of a programmed version of Morpheus, free Neo from a new version of the Matrix and fight a new enemy that holds Trinity captive.
Co-written, and directed by Lana Wachowski, and the first in the Matrix franchise to be directed solely by Lana, without her sister, Lilly. It is the sequel to The Matrix Revolutions (2003) and the fourth installment in The Matrix film franchise.
A socially awkward middle-schooler befriends a defective robot he names Ron, and must find a way to protect Ron, who comes under danger from corporate employees.
Animated science fiction comedy directed by Sarah Smith and Jean-Philippe Vine (in his feature directorial debut), co-directed by Octavio E. Rodriguez, and written by Peter Baynham and Smith.
It tells the story of a bank teller who discovers that he is a non-player character in a massively multiplayer online game who then partners with a player to find evidence that a gaming company’s CEO stole the player’s game’s source code.
It follows a pregnant woman and her boyfriend who try to reach a fortified Boston amidst an AI takeover. Nine months later, Georgia, expecting her baby, has taken shelter in the forest with Sam. They are trying to reach Boston, which has been fortified against the androids.
Post-apocalyptic science fiction thriller written and directed by Mattson Tomlin
Dr. Alma Felser, an archeologist, arrives at a dance club where an employee introduces her to Tom. Alma quizzes Tom with a complex math problem and on trivial details about his favorite poem, and he answers readily. Tom then invites Alma to dance but suddenly begins repeating himself; he is quickly carried away, revealing him to be a robot.
German science fiction romance written and directed by Maria Schrader
A feature-length adaptation of the trio’s 2017 short film of the same name. A lonely inventor in rural Wales comes across a mannequin’s head, which inspires him to attempt to create an artificially intelligent robot, though he is unable to activate it. That night, during a thunderstorm, Brian discovers his activated robot wandering outside of his workshop, and Brian brings it into his house.
Directed by Jim Archer, in his feature debut, from a screenplay by David Earl and Chris Hayward
Set in the world of 2045, where communities have robotic helpers, a group of suburbanites are locked in for their own protection by their household robots, while a rogue, sentient AI android revolt uprising outside.
A French science fiction black comedy written and directed by Jean-Pierre Jeunet. On Netflix
CEO of a tech corporation called Amygdala gives an interview about the company’s newest product, Kimi. Kimi is a smart speaker that controversially makes use of human monitoring to improve the device’s search algorithm. Amygdala plans to soon hold an initial public offering, which stands to earn Hasling a fortune.
This action-packed film features Tom Cruise as Ethan Hunt, who battles a rogue AI known as the Entity, which poses a global threat.Ethan Hunt and the IMF team must track down a terrifying new weapon that threatens all of humanity if it falls into the wrong hands. With control of the future and the fate of the world at stake, a deadly race around the globe begins. Confronted by a mysterious, all-powerful enemy, Ethan is forced to consider that nothing can matter more than the mission — not even the lives of those he cares about most. Mission Impossible – The Final Reckoningreleases in 2025.
A spy thriller starring Gal Gadot, where an advanced AI system called the Heart is manipulated for nefarious purposes, and the protagonist is an intelligence operative, the only woman who stands between her powerful global peacekeeping organisation and the loss of its most valuable — and dangerous — asset.
Set in a remote futuristic location, this film follows an amateur investigator and an AI assistant as they uncover a series of mysterious deaths. A mystery series with a new kind of detective at the helm — a Gen Z amateur sleuth and tech-savvy hacker named Darby Hart. In the new limited series, Darby and eight other guests are invited by a reclusive billionaire to participate in a retreat at a remote and dazzling location.
A genre-defying series created by Damon Lindelof and Tara Hernandez, featuring a nun on a mission to stop an AI system known as Mrs. Davis. After her monastery expels her, Sister Simone and her ex-boyfriend set out to crush the AI programme, Mrs Davis. However, she is faced with her past as the power of her faith is tested in the battle.
The plot follows an artificially intelligent doll, who develops self-awareness and becomes hostile toward anyone who comes between her and her human companion.
In 2194, Kronoid clones a legendary mercenary’s brain to develop an AI mercenary, code-named Jung_E. Dr. Yun Seo-hyun is the team leader of research project Jung_E and seeks to memorialize Jung-yi as a hero rather than a failure. Researchers at Kronoid have copied Jung-yi’s brain data and put them in Android bodies. Through simulations of Jung-yi’s final mission, they try to extract combat memory data that could be used to develop an exceptional combat AI. Just like Captain Jung-yi failed her last mission, AI JUNG_E also fails in every simulation of the last mission.
South Korean science fiction film written and directed by Yeon Sang-ho. On Netflix
An international intelligence operative must embark on a dangerous mission to protect a mysterious artificial intelligence system known as “The Heart”. She is tasked by the peacekeeping operation known as Charter to keep the object safe from falling into enemy hands.
A next-generation Russian submarine Sevastopol employs an advanced AI, activated by a two-pieced cruciform key. The AI deceives the crew into attacking a phantom target only to be struck by their own torpedo, killing all aboard. IMF agent Ethan Hunt travels to the Empty Quarter of the Arabian Desert to retrieve one-half of the key from disavowed MI6 agent Ilsa Faust, who carries a bounty from an unknown source.
Set in 2070, 15 years after a nuclear detonation in Los Angeles and a war against artificial intelligence, an ex-special forces agent is recruited to hunt down and kill the “Creator,” who has developed a mysterious weapon with the power to end the war.
Though not an AI film in the literal sense, Poor Things is deeply significant to conversations about artificial creation, autonomy, and engineered consciousness. Bella Baxter’s rebirth—stitched together by science and liberated by experience—functions as an allegory for any constructed being learning to define itself beyond its maker’s intentions. The film’s exuberant aesthetic masks a sharp inquiry into agency, desire, and the right to self‑authorship. In the broader landscape of AI narratives, Poor Things stands as a mythic analogue: a reminder that stories of artificial life are ultimately stories about freedom.
In a universe controlled by the corrupt government of the Motherworld, the moon of Veldt is threatened by the forces of the Imperium, the army of the Motherworld controlled by Regent Balisarius. Kora, a former member of the Imperium who seeks redemption for her past in the leadership of the oppressive government, tasks herself to recruit warriors from across the galaxy to make a stand against the Motherworld’s forces before they return to the planet.
Directed by Zack Snyder from a screenplay he co-wrote with Kurt Johnstad and Shay Hatten, based on a story Snyder also created. A sequel, Rebel Moon – Part Two: The Scargiver, is set to be released on April 19, 2024. Netflix.
TRON: Ares marks a generational shift in the franchise’s long meditation on digital personhood. Where earlier entries explored humans entering the machine, Ares reverses the current: a program steps into the physical world, forcing the story to confront embodiment, consequence, and the ethics of creation. Its significance lies in how it reframes AI not as a distant abstraction but as a presence capable of disrupting corporate power, human identity, and the fragile boundary between code and flesh. The film becomes a cultural mirror for an era wrestling with the autonomy of its own inventions.
This documentary occupies a rare space: neither alarmist nor utopian, but a personal reckoning with the double‑edged nature of artificial intelligence. By tying the filmmaker’s impending fatherhood to the global debate around AI, it grounds existential questions in intimate stakes. Its significance comes from this fusion of the cosmic and the domestic—an exploration of how we inherit the future we’re building, and how hope and dread can coexist in the same breath. It becomes less a film about AI than a film about what kind of humans we intend to be in the age of our own accelerating tools.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Mother Mary – A Bold Exploration of Art, Devotion, and Desire
Modern pop star meets gothic melodrama in David Lowery’s phantasmagoric Mother Mary, a tale of two women bound across time and space by their personal and artistic histories.
Mother Mary (Anne Hathaway) is a global pop icon who has crafted a larger-than-life persona across a decades-long and successful career. Finding herself in crisis, desperate to shed the smothering weight of all she’s become, the superstar turns to the only person she trusts — fashion designer Sam Anselm (Michaela Coel), the visionary friend she abandoned years ago. When Mother Mary resurfaces out of the blue at Sam’s country estate, requesting one final dress for the performance of a lifetime, so begins a hallucinatory night of confrontation, collaboration, memory, and reinvention…
Shimmering with music, fashion, and surreal horror, Mother Mary is a beguiling and dreamlike spectacle
It ebbs and flows with sensation as Mother Mary’s quest for the perfect dress spirals into a spellbinding dance between two luminaries retracing the contours of their relationship.
Michaela Coel, Anne Hathaway. Credit: Eric Zachanowich
A delirious ode to writer-director Lowery’s own pop fandom, Mother Mary takes a deep dive into the live-wire exchange of energy between creative forces
Featuring songs written by Charli xcx, Jack Antonoff, and co-star FKA twigs, Lowery’s latest feature explores two artists’ pursuit of creative salvation during their darkest hours. “Pop songs have the power to unite millions with shared emotion — they can make you feel seen and heard, even heal a broken heart,” says Lowery, whose previous works include The Green Knight and A Ghost Story. “Mother Mary is about how art can take something terrible and turn it into something beautiful.”
Hathaway underwent a bold transformation for the role, including voice and dance training, mastering the highs and lows of a pop queen with an ornate swagger who is also cracking at the seams. “Mother Mary explores creativity, forgiveness, loss, regret — and what it means to have unfinished business with someone you love,” says Hathaway. “David brings every aspect of this to life in gorgeous and moving ways you haven’t seen on screen before.”
For Coel, whose Sam Anselm is Mother Mary’s greatest regret, as well as her sole remaining lifeline, the symbiotic allure between the two estranged women proved enthralling. “I was drawn to exploring two people whose bond is so strong that words and science can’t explain it,” says Coel. “Their creative connection becomes a spiritual one. David’s writing and direction was like a magnet for me.”
An icon is born
Mother Mary has forged an alter-ego millions identify with, even worship, but the star begins to wonder if her authenticity is made of artifice. Looking for answers, she arrives on the doorstep of her estranged friend and former creative partner Sam Anselm — whose star diminished as Mother Mary’s rose — searching for a concert dress to solidify her fame.
Sam has only one day to create the dress, but that epic 24 hours unleashes a flood of memories and a spiritual rekindling that offers a new future for the estranged friends. This central premise grew into one of Lowery’s most imaginative stories yet, with forays into haute couture, intricate choreography, stage design, and the creation of a pop idol’s discography out of thin air.
Lowery began writing the project as an escape
“It started out as a two-hander in a single location,” says the writer-director. “I wanted to make a movie that was nothing but dialogue, that would be two great actors and a great script and nothing else. I honestly thought it would be fast and simple.”
Nearing the end of The Green Knight and on the cusp of making Peter Pan & Wendy for a major studio, feeling torn about who he was as a storyteller, Lowery began writing a conversation between dueling versions of himself. Eventually, those avatars took on distinct form: Mother Mary and Sam Anselm, who came to life full of brilliance and festering tensions. These were anything but simple characters, united by their fiery creativity and outsized ambitions, while torn by a stinging betrayal.
“They were no longer two opposing sides of me,” says Lowery. “Their lives gained an immensity all their own.”
The women’s ten-year estrangement became the story’s guiding force. “I’m interested in the energy between people when you collaborate creatively. It can be energising and healing – but it also can turn sour,” says Lowery. “In this case, where one person is the public-facing expression of this creation, while the other remains invisible, an imbalance develops, and it begins to fester.”
As the movie opens, the intensity of the collaborators’ feelings remains undiminished by time or distance. Though Mother Mary and Sam haven’t spoken in years, their link is by no means severed, which haunts the film from its core. Mother Mary reveals she has been working on a new song entitled “Spooky Action,” a nod to Einstein’s “spooky action at a distance,” or quantum entanglement, the phenomenon in physics where particles, no matter how far apart, continue to affect one another.
With its dark twists on feminine divinity and ecstasy that reach back through centuries into Catholic mysticism, the roots of Mother Mary’s iconography were at once personal and woven from actual pop history. Spanning the influence of Madonna on Lowery’s youth to the present-day spectacle of Lady Gaga, Taylor Swift and Beyoncé, Mother Mary is an amalgam of trail blazing, button-pushing pop heroines.
“I was raised Catholic, so my parents were very anti-Madonna — to them, she was transgressing upon all that was sacred,” says Lowery. “As a 10-year-old, that made me want to listen to her more. As I grew older, I found something just as sacred and ecstatic in pop music as my parents found in church. It goes beyond simply merging the sacred and the profane; religious icons and pop icons go hand in hand in what they provide to their respective audiences.”
Accompanying Lowery as he wrote the screenplay was a playlist he would later share with cast and crew, including such diverse artists as Lorde, St. Vincent, Robyn, Taylor Swift, Halsey, James Blake, Aldous Harding, PJ Harvey – as well as Charli xcx and FKA twigs, not knowing the latter two would go on to become creative collaborators with Lowery once cameras rolled.
As the film moved into prep, with a script that only contained rough descriptions of songs that would later be brought to musical life on screen, Lowery began to suspect that Mother Mary would become his most complex movie project to date.
His stellar cast crystalized its power. “Once I started talking to Anne and Michaela, I realized I had barely scratched the surface of these two women and their connection,” Lowery admits. “They brought so much to the table that I had never considered; I learned so much about these characters from them.”
David Lowery is an American filmmaker, screenwriter, and editor known for his lyrical visual style and his fascination with myth, memory, and the emotional undercurrents that shape human experience. Born in Milwaukee and raised in Texas, Lowery first gained attention on the independent film circuit with Ain’t Them Bodies Saints (2013), a poetic outlaw romance that showcased his gift for blending intimate storytelling with sweeping cinematic imagery. He went on to direct Pete’s Dragon (2016), a critically acclaimed reimagining of the Disney classic, and A Ghost Story (2017), a haunting meditation on time, grief, and the traces we leave behind. Lowery’s boldest artistic leap came with The Green Knight (2021), a visionary adaptation of Arthurian legend that cemented his reputation as one of the most distinctive voices in contemporary cinema. Known for his atmospheric world‑building, emotional precision, and willingness to take creative risks, Lowery continues to craft films that feel both timeless and deeply personal, exploring the spaces where myth and modernity collide.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Cats in the Museum 2: Treasures of Egypt
Cats in the Museum 2: Treasures of Egypt continues the whimsical, visually rich world introduced in the original animated film, expanding its universe with a grander sense of adventure, cultural discovery, and mythic intrigue.
This sequel of Cats in the Museum is inspired by the enduring fascination with ancient Egypt—its temples, tombs, legends, and the iconic reverence for cats that shaped centuries of ritual and storytelling. The filmmakers draw on this deep cultural history to craft a narrative that blends comedy, mystery, and archaeological wonder, while preserving the charm and character‑driven humour that made the first film beloved by families. The Egyptian setting becomes more than a backdrop; it is a living, breathing world of secrets, curses, and treasures, allowing the film to explore themes of guardianship, legacy, and the delicate balance between preserving history and uncovering it.
Written and directed by Vasiliy Rovenskiy, the creative force behind the original film, Cats in the Museum 2: Treasures of Egypt maintains the playful tone of its predecessor while expanding its emotional and visual scope. Rovenskiy’s screenplay is inspired by the real‑world tradition of museum cats—feline guardians who protect priceless artefacts from pests—and reimagines them as heroic figures navigating ancient mysteries. His direction leans into expressive animation, dynamic action sequences, and a warm, character‑centred approach that allows both humour and heart to shine. The film’s significance lies in its ability to introduce young audiences to the mythology and symbolism of ancient Egypt in an accessible, entertaining way, while offering adults a visually layered adventure filled with clever references and cultural texture.
The sequel also deepens the relationships between its feline protagonists, exploring loyalty, courage, and the responsibility that comes with protecting history. The animation embraces a richer palette—sun‑drenched deserts, torch‑lit tombs, shimmering gold chambers, and bustling Cairo streets—creating a vibrant contrast to the museum‑bound world of the first film. The score blends playful orchestration with Egyptian‑inspired motifs, giving the adventure a sense of grandeur and timelessness. As a whole, Cats in the Museum 2: Treasures of Egypt stands as a celebration of curiosity, cultural heritage, and the enduring magic of storytelling through animation.
When the Hermitage Museum’s beloved feline guardians are invited to Egypt to assist with a major international exhibition, they expect a routine assignment—until a priceless artifact, the Eye of Bastet, mysteriously disappears. The brave and quick‑witted cat Vincent, alongside his loyal companions Cleopatra and Maurice, soon discovers that the theft is tied to an ancient prophecy capable of awakening a long‑dormant power beneath the sands. Guided by a spirited local street cat named Nefra, the team ventures deep into hidden tombs, labyrinthine temples, and bustling marketplaces to uncover the truth. As they race against time to stop a shadowy group intent on resurrecting an ancient curse, the cats must rely on their wits, their courage, and the unbreakable bond of friendship. The adventure culminates in a breathtaking confrontation within a secret chamber beneath the Great Sphinx, where the fate of both the exhibition and Egypt’s ancient treasures hangs in the balance.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on You & Me & Tuscany – A delicious romantic comedy
Producer Will Packer is always on the lookout for a joyful romantic comedy, and he found it in perhaps the most unlikely place: an original script from Ryan Engle, a delicious romantic comedy about one little lie, one large Italian villa, and two people getting lost in the sauce of love.
Packer is responsible for some of the swooniest romantic dramas and swankiest romantic comedies in film history, including About Last Night, Think Like a Man, The Photograph, The Wedding Ringer, This Christmas and What Men Want. “I’ve always believed, and have built my entire career on the idea, that Black joy is powerful,” Will Packer says. “Black love is powerful. And when you see yourself on screen, fully realized, laughing, falling in love, living… that does something incredible to your spirit.”
Engle’s script was a transportive, escapist, sensual and very funny romantic comedy about a young woman, Anna, who has lost her way in life only to rediscover herself as she stumbles into a transformative romance in Italy. The idea had come from Ryan Engle’s wife, Kristin, and the two of them had developed the story together as Ryan wrote the screenplay. When they finished, Ryan was nervous to even send it to his agents. “I do thrillers and action movies,” Ryan Engle says. “I told Kristin, ‘They’re going to think I’m crazy.’ A couple of weeks later, I got a text from my agent, and he was quoting the dialogue. He said, ‘We can’t wait to find a partner to do it.’”
When Packer read the script, he immediately recognized the impact, and rare frisson, of a romantic story told by a husband-and-wife team.
“Ryan is a propulsive writer,” Packer says. “He writes action well, with characters you get engaged with, but I didn’t know him for romantic comedy. When I learned that he had worked on the story with Kristin, I thought, ‘This gives a balance to his masculine energy.’ I called him and said, ‘Ryan, we’ve done two movies together. Third time’s going to be the charm. Let’s do this, brother.’”
Packer’s producing partner, Johanna Byer, was just as ebullient. “Most of the projects we develop come from an idea, but this one was an incredible script submission,” Byer says. “Ryan and Kristin are the most loving, beautiful couple, and you can tell that this story was infused with their experiences in Italy, their family and journey. It was a poignant script. We sent it to our partners at Universal and they fell in love with it, just like we did.”
Making Packer and Byer’s decision even easier was the fact that the film already had an ideal director attached: Kat Coiro, who had directed the hit Jennifer Lopez romantic comedy Marry Me as well as episodes of some of the funniest comedy series of the past decade, including Brooklyn Nine-Nine, The Mick, Alone Together, Shameless, Modern Family, Girls5Eva, Dead to Me and It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia.
“Romantic comedy is my favorite genre,” Coiro says. Some of her favorite films include genre classics written by Richard Curtis: Four Weddings and a Funeral, Notting Hill and Love Actually. “Richard Curtis is my all-time favorite filmmaker,” Coiro says. “The world needs more escapism and optimism—more striding for beauty. I also love the idea that you don’t have to limit yourself to categories. You can have it all.”
That the You, Me & Tuscany script made it into her hands was written in the stars. “Ryan Engle and I share an agent,” Coiro says. And she could see the impact of Ryan’s thriller-script sensibilities on this screenplay. “I’d never read a romcom that moved so quickly,” Coiro says. “As sweet and emotional as it is, it read like an action movie—moving from beat to beat to beat.”
The film, Coiro says, fuses two entertaining and emotional genres. “This movie is a romantic comedy, but it also has echoes of Under the Tuscan Sun and Eat Pray Love, about one woman’s journey into her soul,” Coiro continues. It’s also worth noting that stories like this being told about a young Black woman, in this case a young woman named Anna, are exceptionally rare. “It’s something Will Packer and I talked about a lot, bringing this young woman to this traditionally white, middle-aged, romcom setting,” Coiro says. “There’s also a reconnection to the earth. Anna comes from the concrete jungle of Manhattan, where she is floating and doesn’t know what to do, and lands in a place tied to tradition—tied to the earth.” There, reconnected to the senses of the physical world, Anna allows herself to open up to a new kind of love, and a new kind of life.
Halle Bailey (The Little Mermaid, The Color Purple) stars as Anna, a young woman who has abandoned her dreams of becoming a chef and is now drifting through her twenties with a series of bad choices. When Anna loses her house-sitting job (and housing) in one fell swoop, a chance encounter with Matteo—a handsome Italian who happens to have a villa sitting empty in Tuscany—will inspire her to jet off for Italy, against the advice of her always-honest bestie, Claire (Home Before Dark’s Aziza Scott). But Anna’s plan to crash at Matteo’s villa, without permission, just for one night, falls apart when Matteo’s mother, Gabriella (Italian film icon Isabella Ferrari) shows up at the house unexpectedly. In a panic, Anna allows Gabriella to believe that she is Matteo’s fiancée. That little lie becomes a big problem, though, when Matteo’s cousin, Michael (Regé-Jean Page; Bridgerton, Black Bag) shows up, and Anna discovers that the heat between them may ignite a fire that will transform her life.
(from left) Producer Will Packer and director Kat Coiro on the set of You, Me & Tuscany. Photo Credit: Giulia Parmigiani/Universal Pictures
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Writing the Screenplay of The Drama – A sexy, contemporary romantic comedy
From rising comedic auteur Kristoffer Borgli comes a sexy, contemporary romantic comedy about a pair of young Boston professionals who find their relationship and pending nuptials put to the ultimate test after a sudden revelation throws their happily ever after into spectacular turmoil.
A relationship comedy that dares to ask how much we really want to know about the people closest to us, The Drama sees writer-director-editor Borgli push the wedding movie into fresh new territory in an inventive, darkly funny, unexpectedly heartfelt look at love in the age of oversharing.
“In your closest relationships, you should be able to share everything, from how you actually feel to who you actually are,” says Borgli. “The Drama is about that idea getting stress-tested between two people who are head over heels in love, and who maybe never considered there could be more to the other person. It’s about the power of love — an emotional state you don’t get to control, and how complicated that becomes when your feelings are at odds with your rationale. When that balance slips, you find yourself inside a crucial dilemma.”
Writer-director-editor Kristoffer Borgli
For his third narrative feature, Kristoffer Borgli did not set out to write a romantic comedy, or a wedding movie.
“The idea for the movie came from reflecting on the ups and downs of romantic relationships, and the quiet negotiations we all make between our emotions and our logic,” says Borgli. “I was interested in exploring how love can feel both undeniable and destabilising at the same time.”
Borgli began writing the movie as a journal of his thoughts
Born in Sarpsborg, Norway, the filmmaker became interested from a young age in how people act in different cultural environments. In his previous features Sick of Myself and Dream Scenario, Borgli conceived stories of a young woman obtaining social media clout after disfiguring herself and a family man who finds himself at the center of a controversy after random people start having strange dreams about him.
British expat Charlie Thompson (Robert Pattinson) is a museum curator who meets literary editor Emma Harwood (Zendaya) in a Cambridge café; after a whirlwind courtship, they settle into blissful domesticity and start planning their wedding. But one explosive confession during a drunken game of What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done? sends the seemingly perfect couple spiralling into doubt and chaos as they try to make it to “I do.”
Borgli, who currently lives in Los Angeles, adds layer to Charlie by making him an expatriate, examining American society and culture through the perspective of an outsider. “I’m from Scandinavia, and while some of the topics and themes in The Drama are uniquely American, I wanted to bring a Scandinavian sensibility to an American setting,” says Borgli. “Shooting the movie in Boston made sense, because it feels intimate, historic, and human in scale, closer in spirit to a Scandinavian capital than a sprawling American metropolis.”
Borgli wanted to explore how two people in a relationship react when love is tested. “There’s no objective solution to Charlie and Emma’s dilemma, but we are not our own worst mistakes,” says Borgli. “There should be room for error in relationships, and some leeway and forgiveness with the people we choose to share a life with. We can disagree with our own past behaviours and actions, but you still have to be that same person over time.”
Once the major roles were cast in The Drama, Borgli made use of a two-week rehearsal period prior to production, involving lengthy discussions on character and motivation. He used the time as a collaborative process, using trial and error to rewrite and fine-tune the script.
“We discussed the roles endlessly in pre-production by sitting down at a table together and going through the script every day, some conversations spilling into group texts,” says Borgli. “I would jot down notes and go rewrite, or Rob and Zendaya would give me notes and I’d weave them in. The characters became more fleshed-out and three-dimensional as we discussed and debated their storyline together.
Borgli also hosted film screenings to help cast and crew understand the writer-director’s unique tone and psychological depth. He showed Paul Mazursky’s ‘70s domestic comedy Bob & Carol Ted & Alice — in which four close friends debate each other’s moral compasses. Other works Borgli screened included Lars von Trier’s Melancholia, the ultimate wedding movie in that it’s set during the world’s final dying days. “It’s a terrific wedding movie because it’s a fucked-up wedding movie,” says Borgli.
Borgli also showed key works by the Austrian auteur Michael Haneke including Benny’s Video and The Piano Teacher, a twisted love story between an older piano teacher, played by Isabelle Huppert, and her younger student, played by Benoît Magimel.
“Once Magimel’s character learns his instructor is a masochist who likes to be choked and gagged, it makes him ever more intrigued by her,” says Borgli. “The movie also contains a personal revelation that gets in the way of a private relationship, and while Huppert’s character is very put together in polite society, she has weird obsessions in her private life, not unlike Emma.”
Finally, Borgli asked Pattinson and Zendaya to watch Ingmar Bergman’s The Passion of Anna during their own free time — another meditative European drama featuring a shocking revelation. In The Drama, the film’s poster is visible on Charlie’s living room wall — a sly nod to the crisp British expat’s fragile psychological undercurrents.
“The film is really an invitation for the audience to engage in an [honest] conversation between the heart and the mind. There are no clear-cut moral conclusions, and each viewer is encouraged to grapple with the questions and decide where they stand.”
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Writing the Screenplay for the techno-thriller Wardriver
The techno‑thriller Wardriver was written by Daniel Casey and spotlights the art and culture of wardriving: a microcosm of the hacking industry that involves searching for networks from a moving vehicle.
His modern-day Robin Hood-esque character exploits this highly specialised skill to commit high-tech robberies from his laptop, fusing intimate character drama with the escalating anxieties of a world increasingly shaped—and threatened—by digital vulnerability.
“When I first read the script, I felt an immediate pulse—dark, obsessive, and intimate,” says director Rebecca Thomas (Stranger Things). “It had that raw Taxi Driver energy I’ve always loved, and as someone who’s often pegged for female-driven narratives, “I was excited to dive into a story centred on a morally gray male lead. I saw an opportunity to explore something unexpected: a character study built on restraint, guilt, and quiet delusion.”
Crafting the Screenplay
Daniel Casey approached Wardriver as a character‑driven techno‑thriller, building the script around the real subculture of wardriving, the practice of searching for vulnerable Wi‑Fi networks from a moving vehicle. This concept, highlighted in production notes, gave the film its thematic spine: digital vulnerability as both opportunity and danger. Casey’s script centres on Cole, a morally ambiguous hacker whose “modern‑day Robin Hood” logic drives him into high‑tech robberies and deeper ethical compromise.
Casey constructed the narrative as a slow-burning character study disguised as a crime thriller. Rather than leaning solely on hacking spectacle, he wrote Cole as a lonely, guilt‑ridden figure whose skills become both his weapon and his prison.
The screenplay escalates when criminal Oscar discovers Cole’s abilities and forces him to hack the bank account of Sarah, pulling Cole into a web of mob‑connected corruption. Casey uses this twist not just for plot propulsion but to expose Cole’s delusions about helping others, a theme Thomas emphasised as central to the script’s emotional architecture.
Casey’s writing blends technical precision (the mechanics of hacking, the tension of digital heists) with psychological realism, shaping a thriller where every keystroke carries moral weight. The result is a screenplay that fuses cybercrime, noir tension, and intimate character drama, a story about a man who believes he’s doing good, even as every choice pulls him further into danger.
Daniel Casey is a screenwriter and director originally from Detroit. A graduate of the American Film Institute and an alumni of the Sundance Institute’s Directing and Screenwriting labs, Daniel’s upcoming projects include an adaptation of the wildly popular videogame series MASS EFFECT for Amazon, an UNTITLED CRIME THRILLER for Sony Pictures and director Craig Gillespie, a supernatural western called THE PINKERTON for Bad Robot and director Jason Bateman, and more. Presently, Daniel is prepping an indie crime thriller titled THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS SOUTH DETROIT with producers Trevor White and Tim White with Star Thrower Entertainment.
Daniel’s previously produced work includes 10 CLOVERFIELD LANE for producer JJ Abrams and director Dan Trachtenberg, F9 (FAST AND FURIOUS 9) for Universal and director Justin Lin, and KIN for Lionsgate, 21 Laps and directors Josh and Jonathan Baker.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Retreat for Writers in the Heart Of The Karoo
If you need to break away to write your story, this interactive retreat offers exclusive one‑on‑one or group sessions in Prince Albert.
This retreat guides writers through a disciplined journey: clarifying the idea, deepening the characters, and shaping the plot into a story the world needs to encounter.
“Thanks, Daniel. The writing retreat and our meeting were a turning point in my life. Many thanks to you and the Writing Studio. This week has been one of my most memorable. I will forever carry this week with me.” Dr. Soraya Khan (Pretoria) June 2025
“I had the privilege of attending Daniel Dercksen’s private Writer’s Retreat in June, 2025, in the breathtaking Karoo town of Prince Albert. Immersed in its serene beauty, I worked closely with Daniel to refine the characters, plot, and structure of my musical play. His expertise and thoughtful approach helped me delve deeper into my story, unlocking layers I hadn’t explored before. For anyone eager to expand their understanding of the art of writing or seeking expert advice on a story in development, I wholeheartedly recommend his workshop. It’s an invaluable experience that nurtures creativity and sharpens storytelling skills.” Annelien Kirsten (George), June 2025
“The retreat was life changing. I went from someone with vague ambitions to write a book to someone who has a first draft in sight. It really helped me clarify what my story was and taught me both the thought process and writing process needed to write.” Nicholas Morkel, December 2024
“What an incredible experience to learn from a master of the art of storytelling, in a sublime setting. It was a privilege to have been able to attend this workshop, thank you!” Michele Marais
“I’m writing this e-mail to tell you how thankful I am for taking time out of your day to tutor me on how to write not only my story, but my novel. The retreat was super awesome and I’ll be forever grateful for your help. Not only that, but I’ll miss how charming the little town of Prince Albert was. P.S: I give your retreat 10/10.” Jordyn Lee Bird
Final morning walk pitstop on the wandelpad with Jordyn Lee Bird , who did a 3-day writer’s retreat in December 2023.
“The retreat was an inspiration and an eye-opener. It inspired me to write in a much more disciplined fashion. To tell the stories that are in my heart. To try my hand at scriptwriting, which, now that I have a road map and a plan with wonderful pointers, does not seem as daunting as it was before I attended the course. Daniel also edits manuscripts, and his feedback goes way beyond grammar; it includes pointers, questions to consider, and expert advice. I strongly recommend this course to all writers.” Anthea Pretorius (Sept 2022)
Escape to the tranquil serenity of the Karoo, where you can share some me time with your characters and find yourself in the process
“If you want to learn to write, struggle to write, or just want to sharpen your talent, I highly recommend this workshop. It’s a soul-enriching experience. ” Belinda Martins, Cape Town“Die passie waarmee Daniel sy ervaring deel is aansteeklik en die struktuur en voorbeelde wat hy vir mens gee waarvolgens mens jou storie of draaiboek kan skryf is maklik verstaanbaar en prakties uitvoerbaar. Ek kan die ervaring hoog aanbeveel.”Louis Botha
Daniel Dercksen will take you on an insightful and inspirational journey into what it takes to be a writer and how to make the most of who you are as a writer.
The session takes place at Daniel’s private studio in Prince Albert. The Writing Studio will accommodate your needs and will be available for whatever dates suit you. You are responsible for your own travel and accommodation, The Writing Studio can make suggestions
It is an interactive, intimate, and introspective journey into the world of the story, empowering you to take ownership of the creative journey, and creative expression.
“Daniel’s workshop has given me exactly what I needed – the tools and the process to finally start writing books. The content of his workshop is rich, practical and interesting.” Tamsin Collins, Prince Albert“I learnt to see the structure of a story and how characters, theme and plot all interact to shape a memorable tale or movie. I am inspired to put pen to paper. Some of us are fortunate enough to be shown the way and start the journey.”Petro Lotz, Prince Albert
For ideal accommodation where you can relax and write in the writing room or garden, we highly recommend the elegant By-die-Koppie Gastehuis. Contact Us for more info
Daniel Dercksen has been working actively as a journalist, screenwriter, playwright, novelist, and story editor for the past 25 years, nurturing the careers and success stories of many storymakers and storytellers. As the driving force behind the successful independent training initiativeThe Writing Studioand a published film and theatre journalist of 40 years, Daniel Dercksen has been teaching workshops and online courses in creative writing, playwriting, and screenwriting throughout South Africa for the past 22 years. He will share his secrets to finding your story and making the most of your creativity.
Film, like speech and writing, has a unique language. Film Is A Visual & Temporal Art. Writing, speech, and visual images all communicate within their own particular spheres. MORE
Film Appreciation & Evaluation Course. Designed for absolute beginners to budding cinephiles by Daniel Dercksen, a film journalist of 40 years, The Writing Studio’s film appreciation course will give you a thorough grounding in all things film. SEND US AN EMAIL
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Ready or Not 2 Expands a Cult‑Classic Nightmare
Ready or Not 2: Here I Come arrives as one of the most anticipated horror‑comedy sequels of the decade, a continuation of the 2019 sleeper hit Ready or Not that blends social satire, supernatural lore, and gleefully anarchic violence into a single, blood‑spattered fairy tale.
Directed once again by Matt Bettinelli‑Olpin and Tyler Gillett, the filmmaking duo known collectively as Radio Silence, and written by returning screenwriters Guy Busick and R. Christopher Murphy, the sequel expands the mythology of the original while preserving its razor‑sharp tone and its wicked sense of humor.
The film picks up the very second the first movie ends, with Grace waking up in a hospital still drenched in the blood of her exploded in‑laws, having survived the Le Domas family’s satanic ritual masquerading as a wedding‑night game of hide‑and‑seek.
Busick revealed that no time has passed for Grace, and the sequel begins with the EMTs and fire department arriving just as the credits rolled in the original film, creating a seamless narrative bridge that treats the two films as a single, continuous nightmare. This decision to eliminate temporal distance reflects the filmmakers’ desire to preserve the emotional immediacy of Grace’s trauma, allowing the sequel to explore the psychological and physical aftermath of surviving a supernatural bloodbath without giving the character—or the audience—time to breathe.
The premise of Ready or Not 2: Here I Come expands the stakes dramatically
Grace learns that her victory over the Le Domas family has triggered a new, even deadlier game in which the wealthiest and most powerful families on Earth must kill her to preserve their fortunes and influence. When she discovers that her younger sister, Faith—played by Kathryn Newton—has also been marked for death, Grace is forced into a new battle not only for her own survival but for her family’s future. This shift from a single cursed family to a global network of elite bloodlines transforms the sequel into a broader commentary on inherited power, privilege, and the violent rituals that uphold them.
Inspiration
The filmmakers have cited James Cameron’s sequels—Aliens and Terminator 2—as key inspirations, using them as “sacred texts” for how to expand a story’s world, escalate its stakes, and shift genres while preserving the original’s DNA. Just as Cameron transformed Alien’s claustrophobic horror into a militarized action epic, Radio Silence aims to evolve Ready or Not from a contained mansion‑set survival story into a larger, more explosive tale of rebellion against entrenched systems of power. The creative team asked themselves how to “blow it up” in a way that remains true to the first film’s blend of horror and humor while exploring a “crazy, bigger world,” suggesting a sequel that is both more expansive and more unhinged.
The significance of Ready or Not 2: Here I Come lies not only in its narrative continuation but in what it represents for contemporary horror.
The original film was celebrated for its satirical skewering of wealth, tradition, and the grotesque rituals of the ultra‑rich, themes that have only grown more culturally relevant. Its explosive finale—literally—suggested that the old systems of power were collapsing under their own absurdity. The sequel asks what happens next: when one corrupt dynasty falls, how many others remain? And what happens when the lone survivor becomes a symbol, a threat, or a target? By expanding the mythology to include multiple elite families bound by the same demonic pact, the film positions Grace as a reluctant revolutionary figure, hunted not for what she has done but for what she represents.
The casting choices further underscore the film’s thematic ambitions. Bringing in performers like Sarah Michelle Gellar and David Cronenberg adds layers of intertextual resonance: Gellar as a horror icon from Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and Cronenberg as a master of body horror whose presence alone signals a deeper, stranger descent into the grotesque. Meanwhile, Elijah Wood—no stranger to genre storytelling—adds an unpredictable energy to the ensemble. These choices suggest a sequel that embraces horror history while pushing into new territory.
The film’s significance also lies in its potential to solidify Ready or Not as a franchise. The original film’s success—both critically and financially—demonstrated that audiences are hungry for horror that is both entertaining and socially incisive. The sequel’s expanded scope, larger cast, and heightened mythology indicate a world that can sustain multiple stories, each exploring different facets of power, ritual, and resistance. If the first film was a sharp, self‑contained satire, the sequel positions itself as the beginning of a larger saga, one that blends supernatural horror with class warfare and dark comedy.
Ultimately, Ready or Not 2: Here I Come stands as a testament to the creative possibilities of horror sequels when they are approached with ambition, intelligence, and a willingness to evolve.
By honoring the original’s tone while embracing a more expansive narrative, the film promises to deliver both visceral thrills and pointed commentary. It is a story about survival, sisterhood, and the monstrous systems that demand blood to maintain their power—and about one woman who refuses to play by their rules. In a cinematic landscape crowded with reboots and remakes, Ready or Not 2 distinguishes itself as a sequel with purpose, vision, and a wicked sense of fun, poised to deepen the legacy of a modern cult classic.
Matt Bettinelli‑Olpin and Tyler Gillett are the filmmaking duo at the heart of Radio Silence, the collective known for revitalising contemporary horror with a blend of sharp humour, kinetic energy, and emotionally grounded storytelling. After emerging from the world of shorts and anthology filmmaking, they broke out with Ready or Not (2019), a wickedly inventive horror‑comedy that showcased their talent for balancing satire with suspense. Their success led to helming the 2022 and 2023 Scream films, where they brought a fresh, self‑aware sensibility to a beloved franchise while honouring its legacy. Bettinelli‑Olpin and Gillett are drawn to stories that push genre boundaries, foreground character, and embrace both chaos and heart—qualities that define their return to the world of Ready or Not with its ambitious, mythology‑expanding sequel. Their work is marked by a collaborative spirit, a love of practical effects, and a commitment to crafting horror that is as fun as it is ferocious.
Guy Busick is a screenwriter celebrated for his sharp wit, structural precision, and ability to fuse horror with biting social commentary. He co‑wrote Ready or Not with R. Christopher Murphy, crafting a script that became a modern cult favourite for its blend of tension, satire, and anarchic humour. Busick’s talent for character‑driven genre storytelling led to his work on Scream (2022) and Scream VI (2023), where he helped re‑energise the franchise for a new generation while maintaining its meta‑textual edge. His writing is defined by a keen understanding of pacing, a love of genre conventions, and a willingness to twist them in unexpected ways. With Ready or Not 2: Here I Come, Busick returns to the world he helped create, expanding its mythology and deepening its themes while preserving the irreverent spirit that made the original so distinctive.
Christopher Murphy is a writer whose work blends dark humour, character‑driven tension, and a playful approach to genre. He co‑wrote Ready or Not with Guy Busick, crafting a screenplay that stood out for its clever subversion of horror tropes and its gleeful dismantling of wealth, tradition, and family legacy. Murphy’s writing is marked by a strong sense of rhythm and an instinct for balancing brutality with levity, allowing his stories to feel both thrilling and unexpectedly human. His return for Ready or Not 2: Here I Come signals a continuation of the creative voice that shaped the original film’s tone—sharp, mischievous, and unafraid to push its characters into ever more dangerous and absurd territory. Murphy’s work reflects a deep affection for genre storytelling and a commitment to using horror as a lens for cultural critique.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Project Hail Mary Redefines Sci‑Fi Storytelling
There are moments in history when survival depends not on strength, but on cooperation, when the problem is too large for one person, one nation or one discipline. At those moments, the only way forward is together. Project Hail Mary begins with a crisis: Earth’s sun is dimming and humanity is running out of time. What unfolds is not a story about catastrophe. It’s a story about ingenuity, humility and the radical act of working with someone with a completely different perspective.
Directed by Academy Award winners Phil Lord and Christopher Miller (Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse, The Lego Movie), with a screenplay by Academy Award nominee Drew Goddard (The Cabin in the Woods, The Martian) based on the novel by Andy Weir (The Martian, Artemis).
At its centre is unlikely hero Ryland Grace (Ryan Gosling), a middle school science teacher who never imagined he would have to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. Eventually, an even more unlikely partnership forms between two beings from different stars, bound not by language or biology, but by shared purpose.
What makes Project Hail Mary resonate is not the scale of its crisis but the intimacy of its solution. It’s a story that suggests that survival is not a solo act and that hope is not a passive endeavour. Above all, it’s a story that contends that, even in the vastness of space, connection remains our greatest resource.
The making of the film reflected that idea at every stage – from the moment author Andy Weir sent his unpublished manuscript out into the world, to the collaboration between actor producer Gosling, directors Phil Lord and Christopher Miller and the creative producing minds who came together to achieve the impossible on screen, to the out of-this-world contributions of hundreds of artists and engineers who worked from the ground up to bring a true Hail Mary to life.
This is the story of that journey. Embark on an epic and thrilling journey in which an ordinary science teacher, Grace, and an unexpected ally from another world, Rocky, unite on an extraordinary mission to save their worlds. Twelve light-years from Earth, their unlikely bond becomes a source of hope, reminding us that in the darkest, most dangerous moments, we are not alone. Together, they find the courage to believe the impossible is possible…to believe in the Hail Mary.
Assembling the perfect team
In early 2020 – before it had been published, before it had a release date and certainly before anyone knew what the coming year would bring – author Andy Weir sent a manuscript to actor Ryan Gosling. He wanted Gosling to consider not only starring in a film adaptation as the story’s lead character, but producing the project as well.
Weir had already developed a reputation for marrying rigorous science with emotional clarity in stories anchored in near futures. His 2011 best-seller The Martian had proven that audiences would follow complex problem-solving if they cared about the person doing the solving, and the resulting 2015 film adaptation confirmed that logic on a much larger scale.
But Project Hail Mary felt different, even on the page. It began with isolation – a man alone in deep space, his memories of what brought him there fleeting – and then gradually widened into something far more expansive. Gosling read it in one sitting. The manuscript arrived at the start of the COVID pandemic, as movie productions across the globe were shutting down and theaters were going dark. A business was fracturing and the future of large-scale filmmaking felt uncertain.
“Here I was getting this opportunity to make the most epic theatrical experience of my life, and theatres were closed,” Gosling says. But there was something strangely appropriate about receiving the material in the thick of such a trying time. Project Hail Mary is about the sun dying, but it’s also deeply hopeful. It supports the idea that we’re capable of solving impossible problems, that if we don’t give up, miracles are possible.”
Weir describes the premise with characteristic understatement. “My elevator pitch would be: It’s a buddy movie with world-shattering consequences,” he says.
But even that framing hints at what distinguishes Project Hail Mary from a traditional survival narrative. The story ultimately hinges not on endurance, but on collaboration, on the discovery that the solution cannot be reached alone. Gosling knew instantly that he wanted to be a part of bringing that idea to the screen, and true to those themes, he knew it would take a village.
For producer Amy Pascal, the science was never a barrier. In true Weir fashion, the genre trappings were scaffolding upon which bigger and more universal concepts could elegantly hang. “It’s about science, yes,” Pascal says. “But it’s also about faith – faith in people, faith in collaboration. We’re living in a time where everyone is scared of each other. No one trusts each other. Nobody wants to listen to each other. Everybody’s in their silos just believing what they believe and reading different newspapers and not opening themselves up to other people. This movie is about having to listen. You have to learn someone else’s language. You have to understand where they’re coming from, or you can’t save the world.”
With Pascal formally aboard as producer alongside Gosling, the project began to take shape. The next step was identifying the filmmaker – or filmmakers – who could navigate a precise tonal balance of humor and peril, intimacy and scope, without losing the emotional core.
“There was really no contest about who would be the perfect people to take over this movie,” Pascal says. “It had to be Phil Lord and Christopher Miller.”
For the better part of two decades, directors Phil Lord and Christopher Miller have developed their own reputation for achieving the impossible. They breathed fresh cinematic life into projects based on beloved children’s book Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs and the 1980s television series 21 Jump Street (both during Pascal’s tenure at Sony Pictures). They had silenced legions of doubters by not only making The Lego Movie work, but establishing a wildly successful baseline for the brand on the big screen and they made a comic-book come to life with Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse. They are artists attracted to big ideas and difficult tasks, making them perfect collaborators for something like Project Hail Mary.
When Lord and Miller received Weir’s manuscript, they devoured it. “We read it in 24 hours,” Miller says. “I stayed up all night. I think I went to bed at 5am because I had to find out what happened.”
What struck them was not simply the audacity of Weir’s premise, but the pivot the story makes midway through, from isolation to partnership.
“It presents as a space adventure, a disaster movie, and then a third of the way through, it becomes an intimate character study between two individuals who have to learn how to communicate,” Lord says. “That shift is what makes it special.”
Adds Miller: “What’s really interesting about this movie is that we don’t think of it as sci-fi. We think of it as a human story, a story about a relationship, about a friendship.”
That key insight into the narrative, and that specific framing of it, along with a singular vision and stamp of authorship across vastly different projects, is what made Pascal want to enlist her longtime colleagues. She knew they would make something special. “Chris and Phil are very specific filmmakers,” Pascal says. “They have a sensibility that is hard to describe because it’s so poignant and emotional, and yet so funny at the same time. But also, they have great commercial instincts.”
Adds Pascal’s producing partner Rachel O’Connor: “Telling the story of an ordinary person in an extraordinary situation is one of Chris and Phil’s gifts.”
Lord and Miller also came aboard with their own invaluable asset in tow, producer Aditya Sood (The Martian, Cocaine Bear). Sood had discovered The Martian before it was published and ushered it successfully to the screen, so his history with Weir’s work gave him immediate insight into the possibilities inherent in a Project Hail Mary adaptation. He was particularly struck by the moment the manuscript arrived.
“It was actually kind of amazing timing where the world was faced with an existential crisis and it was up to a bunch of really smart scientists to save us all,” Sood says. “The book was chock full of brilliant science and comedy and humanity, and we just fell in love.”
For Lord and Miller and Sood, the appeal was both intellectual and emotional. “We are living through a time where things can seem impossible, and this movie is about what is possible when people come together with imagination and goodwill,” Lord says.
With producers, an actor and directors now formally attached, Project Hail Mary had assembled the creative core that would guide it from manuscript to production. Just like the mission at its centre, the effort would depend on collaboration at every level.
Adapting the Novel
Academy Award-nominated screenwriter Drew Goddard had already navigated Weir’s voice once before with The Martian. He understood both the appeal and the difficulty of the material – the pleasure of the science, the specificity of the problem-solving, the intimacy of a character thinking his way through catastrophe.
“This is the story of two disparate individuals from either ends of the galaxy, and through science, teaching, empathy and compassion, they work together to save the universe,” Goddard says.
On the page, much of Project Hail Mary unfolds inside Grace’s head. The reader experiences his memory as it returns in post-coma fragments. The book lives in that interior monologue as discoveries are narrated and his calculations are walked through step by step. As prose, it’s very effective, but cinema offers no such luxury. So, the challenge becomes, how do you dramatise thinking? How do you turn problem-solving into behaviour?
You lean in on specificity and process. “One of the things we learned on The Martian was that we don’t have to simplify the science,” Goddard says. “We were terrified we would have to simplify it for a general audience, but what we found was the opposite. The audience loved that the science was complicated and challenging.”
For Lord and Miller, the answer was embodiment over simplification. They didn’t want to reduce the science, they wanted to stage it. That meant restructuring certain passages from the novel so that ideas emerged through action rather than explanation. It would really become an exercise in cinema’s purest and most singular function: visual storytelling. If Grace is figuring something out, the audience would have to watch him figure it out. They would watch him fail, watch him test. Discovery had to be active. “The book jumps back and forth,” Lord says. “What I loved is that it presents as a standard flashback structure at first. You think we’re watching how we got here. Then you realise there’s more method to it.”
Goddard also expanded the presence of the Hail Mary’s operating system – Mary – as an early conversational partner. The addition gave Grace someone to push against, someone to argue with, even before the central relationship of the film takes shape.
“But we had to be careful,” Goddard says. “We knew we could give the ship a voice, but there’s a Tendency in movies like this to jump too far ahead into the future. We wanted it to feel like now.”
The most significant adaptation question centered on Rocky, an alien from another world who has, just like Grace, journeyed far from his home to solve a riddle of solar infestation plaguing countless stars in the galaxy.
On the page, Rocky’s entrance is a shock visually, from his gargantuan spaceship to his rock-like, spider-like appearance. As he strikes up a partnership with Grace, their communication unfolds gradually through shared mathematics and sound. Beyond the mission at hand, much of the joy comes from the process of deciphering one another and the sheer magic of understanding.
It’s a unique friendship, one explicitly built on problem-solving. Grace and Rocky don’t start with emotional vulnerability. They start with math. “It becomes a story about how to communicate, how to have empathy and compassion for something that is nothing like you,” Miller says.
In translating the novel to the screen, Goddard focused less on spectacle and more on the arc inherent in this friendship. Project Hail Mary is a transformation story, after all. Grace begins as someone who avoids responsibility, and then, over time and through connection with Rocky, he becomes someone capable of sacrifice.
“The point is he has to learn what it means to be selfless,” Goddard says. “We wanted to show that process.”
What Project Hail Mary ultimately proposes is simple but radical: survival is not an act of dominance. It is an act of cooperation. It is curiosity over certainty. It is listening when you don’t understand. It is, to echo Pascal, choosing to trust. In that choice – across light years, across languages, across disciplines – the story finds its quiet conviction: We do not endure alone.
Phil Lord and Christopher Miller are the Oscar‑winning filmmaking duo known for their inventive, genre‑bending approach to storytelling across animation and live‑action cinema. Longtime collaborators since their days at Dartmouth College, they built their reputation on projects that combine sharp wit, emotional intelligence, and formal experimentation, including Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs, 21 Jump Street, The LEGO Movie, and the groundbreaking Spider‑Verse films. Their work is marked by a belief that audiences—of any age—can handle complexity, sincerity, and bold stylistic choices. With Project Hail Mary, Lord and Miller bring their signature blend of humour, heart, and technical ambition to a story that demands both scientific precision and emotional depth, reaffirming their status as two of the most imaginative voices in contemporary filmmaking.
Drew Goddard is an acclaimed screenwriter, director, and producer whose work spans some of the most influential genre projects of the past two decades. He began his career writing for Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Alias, and Lost, before moving into feature films with scripts for Cloverfield, The Cabin in the Woods (which he also directed), and the Oscar‑nominated adaptation of Andy Weir’s The Martian. Known for his ability to balance high‑concept storytelling with grounded human emotion, Goddard brings a rare combination of structural rigor and playful inventiveness to his screenplays. His adaptation of Project Hail Mary continues his collaboration with Weir’s scientifically rich narratives, translating the novel’s intricate problem‑solving and interspecies friendship into a cinematic form that honors both its intellectual curiosity and its emotional core.
Andy Weir is an American novelist celebrated for his meticulously researched, scientifically grounded science fiction that foregrounds ingenuity, resilience, and the thrill of problem‑solving. A lifelong space enthusiast and former software engineer, Weir first gained global recognition with The Martian, a self‑published novel that became a cultural phenomenon and later an Oscar‑nominated film. His subsequent works, including Artemis and Project Hail Mary, continue his fascination with the intersection of human vulnerability and scientific possibility. Project Hail Mary, published in 2021, showcases Weir at his most ambitious—blending astrophysics, microbiology, and an unexpectedly moving interspecies friendship. His writing is defined by clarity, humor, and a deep respect for scientific accuracy, making him one of the most distinctive voices in contemporary science fiction.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Reminders of Him – The Cost of Mistakes, the Power of Love
Reminders of Him is a literary phenomenon from #1 New York Times bestselling author Colleen Hoover, becoming a transformative feature film about motherhood, forgiveness and the power of love to overcome even the worst mistake.
The novel grew out of conversations Hoover was having with her younger sister, who was completing graduate work focused on prison reform. “We talked a lot about what people go through after they get out,” Hoover says. “She was so passionate about it that it stayed with me. After one of those conversations, I felt compelled to write about a woman whose life is shaped by a tragedy that sends her to prison, and what it means to try to rebuild her life after she is released.”
That woman is Kenna Rowan. After serving seven years in prison for an accident that took the life of her partner, Scotty, Kenna returns to the small town of Laramie, Wyoming. While incarcerated, she gave birth to a daughter she has never been allowed to raise. She comes home with no legal standing, few resources and little goodwill from the community she left behind. Her daughter has been raised by Scotty’s parents, Grace and Patrick, and Kenna’s return reopens a grief that has never fully settled. As she tries to rebuild her life, Kenna learns that remorse does not guarantee forgiveness, and her growing connection with local bar owner Ledger pulls her closer to the family that is still defined by loss, anger and unresolved pain.
Motherhood shapes the story at every level, informed in part by Hoover’s own experience as the mother of three sons. “My experiences as a mom influenced this story a lot,” Hoover says. “I was immediately drawn to Kenna and her longing to be part of her daughter’s life. I cannot imagine having a child and not being able to be in their life. At the same time, I also feel deeply connected to Grace, who has lost her son. It is easy to understand her anger and her inability to forgive Kenna, because Kenna is the reason for that loss. I like writing from multiple sides of a moral question, and with motherhood, that felt especially important.”
After a perfect outing with her boyfriend, Kenna (Maika Monroe) makes an unbearable mistake that sends her to prison. Seven years later, Kenna returns to her hometown in Wyoming, hoping to rebuild her life and earn the chance to reunite with her young daughter, Diem, whom she has never known. When Diem’s custodial grandparents adamantly refuse Kenna’s attempts to see her daughter, Kenna discovers unexpected compassion, and then something truer and deeper, with former NFL player and local bar owner Ledger (Tyriq Withers). As their secret romance develops, so do the dangers for both of them, leading Kenna toward heartbreak and, ultimately, the hope for a second chance.
From Page to Screen
Screenplay co-writer and producer Lauren Levine recognized the story’s cinematic potential early on. Her background in literary adaptation shaped her first collaboration with Hoover on the Confess series, which later led them to co-found Heartbones Entertainment in 2023. “When we worked on Confess, Colleen came to set and immediately stood out for how instinctively she understands film and television,” Levine says. “Every question I asked was met with an answer that pushed the material further. Over time, we developed a great creative shorthand. When I read Reminders of Him, I ended up in a puddle of tears, which does not happen often to me. I called Colleen right away and said, ‘I think this is a movie.”
The adaptation marks a turning point in Hoover’s relationship to her work. Reminders of Him is the first screenplay she has co-written and the first film she has produced under the Heartbones banner. Working closely with Levine, Hoover helped shape the script and determine which elements of the novel were essential to preserve. “I wanted to make sure the parts of the book that meant the most to me made it into the script,” Hoover says. “But adapting a book also means learning to let go. Writing a script is such a different process than writing a novel. All of those internal thoughts on the page have to be expressed in new ways. I think of the movie as a complement to the book. It does not need to replicate it. What matters is that audiences feel the same emotions they felt when they read it.”
One of the film’s tools for preserving Kenna’s interior life is her letters to Scotty, which serve as an emotional throughline rather than as a conventional narrative device. “The letters were essential to understanding her inner world,” Levine says. “When you adapt a first-person story, you lose that direct access to a character’s thoughts. The letters gave us a way to bring that interiority back without it feeling heavy-handed. We used them selectively, mainly when she is processing what happened the night of the accident or reflecting on her feelings for Ledger. We also explored her notebooks as a way to show her guilt and her attempt to move forward.”
With the script in place, the focus shifted to finding a director who could protect the story’s intimacy while shaping a film with visual scope.
Vanessa Caswill, whose work adapting character-driven material reflects a precise attention to performance, mood and visual detail, quickly emerged as a natural fit. “Colleen and Lauren shared the outline of the story with me before I read the book,” Caswill says. “They were very keen that I read the script first and see if I felt connected to it. I was immediately drawn to the themes, the emotional restraint, the moral uncertainty. After several conversations, it was clear we were aligned in how we envisioned the film.”
Caswill was particularly drawn to the story’s understanding that emotional relief is often fleeting. “What stayed with me was how clearly the story understands that happiness and beauty arrive in brief, unexpected moments,” Caswill says. “Often through small acts of kindness or connection. None of these characters know what the right thing to do is. They want to do good, but they are moving through grief, anger, guilt and love all at once. The story does not offer easy solutions. It is about people trying to act with integrity when the path forward is unclear and learning to live with that uncertainty.”
Having directed several literary adaptations, Caswill approached the project with a defined methodology for translating page-to-screen.“I treat the book as the Bible while making an adaptation,” Caswill says. “I am always trying to understand what the author is expressing beneath the plot. I work in layers, tracking themes, physicality and breath. I pay close attention to how characters hold tension in their bodies, how they move through a space and how a moment feels internally. Those things cannot always be written into a script, but they matter enormously for performance. I also mark anything visual. Colors, textures, atmosphere. Anything the author communicates through observation rather than dialogue. By the time we are filming, the book becomes a map of emotional, physical and visual cues.”
Tone was equally central to Caswill’s approach. “One of the things I find most special about Colleen’s writing is that, even when she is dealing with very painful material, there is always a dry wit running through it,” Caswill says. “With a story this emotional, that balance matters. It cannot become relentlessly heavy, but it also cannot soften the weight of what these characters are going through. We were always aiming for that space in between. My instinct was to stay faithful to the book and trust that the visual language would come naturally from the material. If I could capture the heart of the story honestly, I was confident the film would find its own voice.”
For Hoover, Caswill’s leadership was defined by her conviction. “Vanessa had such a clear vision from the start,” Hoover says. “She understood the exact tone and feel I was hoping the film would have. She approached the film as an artist fully immersed in every detail. Watching her shape the story with that level of intention was incredible.”
Levine saw that vision carried consistently through the production. “Vanessa brings both poetry and precision to her work,” Levine says. “Her use of color and light, and the way she collaborates with actors, gives every frame a sense of intimacy. She is European, telling a deeply American story, and that perspective adds dimension without creating distance. The material demands restraint, and Vanessa approached it with such honesty that the film never loses its balance.”
Caswill worked closely with Emmy-nominated cinematographer Tim Ives to establish a visual approach grounded in landscape and proximity. The film pairs expansive compositions with intimate framing, using the surrounding environment to place the characters within a vast physical world while keeping the camera grounded in their lived experience. “I wanted the look of the film to feel deeply rooted in the landscape,” Caswill says. “That scale creates isolation, but it also feels benevolent. From the first shot over the mountains, the landscape reflects what the characters must cross to reach each other.”
After the project found its home at Universal, producer Gina Matthews joined the team, bringing decades of experience in character-driven storytelling.
“I had a great meeting with Vanessa, Colleen and Lauren, and everything aligned very quickly,” Matthews says. “What stood out was the cohesion of the group. It was a female-led team at every level, working from a shared understanding of the material.”
Hoover remained on set throughout production, which allowed the script to evolve alongside the performances. “I did not anticipate rewriting as much as I did,” Hoover says. “But being there every day meant I could see immediately when something was not working, or when Vanessa or the actors had questions. We could talk through it and adjust in the moment. That responsiveness became one of the most rewarding parts of the process for me.”
Her involvement extended across departments. “No one knows these characters and this story better than Colleen,” Matthews says. “She has an incredible ability to step back and observe her own work. When others were focused on logistics, she would step in with ideas that only she could bring. Her instincts around casting, locations, wardrobe and props were always spot on. She had a hand in every department in a way that felt thoughtful and authentic, and you can feel that presence in the finished film.”
Throughout Reminders of Him, love appears in many forms.
There is love between friends, love between parents and children, and love that arrives under circumstances that make it fragile and contested from the start. Each relationship carries the weight of responsibility and the long work of living with what cannot be undone. “I have always been drawn to stories that tell the truth and still leave room for tenderness,” Hoover says. “Stories that make you feel everything all at once. This one lives in the messiness of love and the aftermath of tragedy, but it also believes in connection. It believes that even when nothing comes easily, people can still find their way back to themselves, and to each other.”
Lauren Levine is an American screenwriter and producer best known for co‑writing and producing the upcoming film adaptation of Colleen Hoover’s bestselling novel Reminders of Him. Working alongside Hoover, Levine helped shape the screenplay and is also producing the film through their joint banner, Heartbones Entertainment, in partnership with Universal Pictures. Her role in the project marks a significant creative collaboration, with both women deeply involved in bringing the emotionally charged story to the screen. Levine has emphasized Heartbones Entertainment’s mission to translate Hoover’s literary impact into cinematic storytelling, aiming to craft films with both emotional and commercial resonance.
Colleen Hoover is an American novelist whose emotionally charged, character‑driven stories have made her one of the most widely read contemporary authors of the 21st century. Born on December 11, 1979, in Sulphur Springs, Texas, she began writing while working full‑time in social work and published her debut novel, Slammed, in 2012. Its unexpected success—fueled by early reader enthusiasm—launched a prolific career spanning romance, psychological drama, and new adult fiction. Hoover’s breakout hit It Ends with Us cemented her global popularity, inspiring a passionate fan base and dominating bestseller lists years after publication. Known for blending emotional intensity with accessible, conversational prose, she continues to write across genres while engaging closely with her readers and supporting charitable causes through her nonprofit, The Bookworm Box. First published in 2022, Reminders of Him has sold more than 6 million copies in the United States and has been translated into 45 languages. Hoover is the bestselling author of numerous blockbuster novels, including It Ends with Us, It Starts with Us, Layla, Heart Bones, Confess and Verity.
Colleen Hoover occupies a rare position in contemporary publishing. Her readership is vast, yet her work remains resolutely intimate. Since the start of her career, more than 35 million of her books have been sold worldwide, but scale has never redirected her focus. Her stories consistently return to women navigating grief, responsibility and the permanence of irreversible decisions. Rather than offering tidy resolutions, her stories often allow emotional truths to take precedence over comfort. That sensibility anchors Reminders of Him, published in 2022 and embraced by millions of readers around the world.
Vanessa Caswill is an English film and television director known for her intimate, emotionally attuned storytelling and her ability to draw nuanced performances from actors. She first emerged through short films such as A Fairytale of the City (2006) and Pudding Bowl (2007), later moving into acclaimed television work including Thirteen (2016) and the BBC’s Little Women (2017). Her feature debut, Love at First Sight (2023), introduced her to a global audience through Netflix, further establishing her as a director with a lyrical, character‑driven sensibility. She is also attached to direct the upcoming adaptation of Colleen Hoover’s Reminders of Him (2026). Caswill studied dramatic arts at the University of Birmingham and worked with Punchdrunk Theatre Company before transitioning into filmmaking. Her early shorts and television work reflect her interest in psychological nuance, female‑centred narratives, and atmospheric visual storytelling.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Protector: The Cross‑Cultural Thriller Redefining the Modern Action Hero
Protector arrives as a lean, muscular entry in the action‑thriller tradition, but its significance lies in the way it fuses American and South Korean creative sensibilities, reframes the “Taken‑like” rescue narrative through a female veteran’s perspective, and positions Milla Jovovich—long associated with genre cinema—as the emotional and physical core of a story about maternal ferocity, trauma, and survival.
The film is directed by Adrian Grünberg, a filmmaker known for gritty, tightly wound action pieces such as Get the Gringo and The Black Demon. His style tends toward immediacy: handheld tension, claustrophobic environments, and a focus on characters pushed to their physical and psychological limits. That sensibility is well‑matched to Protector, which follows Nikki, an ex‑soldier whose daughter is kidnapped, forcing her back into a world of violence she thought she had left behind.
Grünberg has always gravitated toward stories about people pushed to the edge—physically, morally, psychologically. His earlier work (Get the Gringo, Rambo: Last Blood) shows a preference for characters with violent pasts they cannot outrun, and action that feels raw rather than operatic. Protector gave him a chance to apply that sensibility to a female protagonist, grounding the film in a gritty realism rather than superheroic spectacle. Grünberg has spoken in interviews about wanting to make an action film that felt intimate, where every punch and decision carries emotional weight.
The screenplay is by Bong‑Seob Mun, whose writing brings a Korean thriller’s emotional density and moral ambiguity to the project. Korean action‑thrillers often foreground the cost of violence, the fragility of family bonds, and the corrosive effects of institutional corruption. Mun’s script threads these concerns through a narrative that could easily have been a straightforward rescue story, giving it a sharper emotional edge and a more ethically fraught landscape. Mun comes from a cinematic culture where thrillers are rarely just thrillers. Korean genre films—from The Man from Nowhere to A Bittersweet Life are driven by the fragility of family bonds, institutions that fail the very people they claim to protect, the emotional cost of violence and protagonists who are both heroic and haunted.
Protector inherits this DNA. The kidnapping plot is not simply a device for action; it is a way to explore the emotional aftershocks of war, motherhood, and trauma. Nikki’s journey is shaped by the Korean tradition of the wounded protector, a figure who must confront both external enemies and internal ghosts.
Protector exemplifies a growing trend: the merging of Korean thriller sensibilities with American action filmmaking. This is not simply a matter of co‑production; it is a blending of narrative DNA. Korean thrillers often foreground moral ambiguity, emotional stakes, and the psychological cost of violence. American action films tend to emphasise momentum, spectacle, and individual heroism.
ADRIAN GRÜNBERG | DIRECTOR
Adrian Grünberg is a Mexican film director and screenwriter. His directorial debut was Get the Gringo, starring Mel Gibson. He is known for the Netflix series “Narcos,” and “Narcos: Mexico.” In 2019, he directed Rambo: Last Blood, starring Sylvester Stallone. His most recent work includes the movie The Black Demon and the Netflix series “Bandidos” and “The Gringo Hunters,” for which he served as director and showrunner. Adrian’s most recent work as a director will be seen in the feature film, Protector, starring Milla Jovovich set to release in 2026.
BONG‑SEOB MUN / SCREENWRITER
Bong‑Seob Mun is a South Korean screenwriter and producer whose work bridges Korean and international action‑thriller cinema. He is best known for writing and producing the upcoming feature Protector (2026), directed by Adrian Grünberg and starring Milla Jovovich, Matthew Modine, D.B. Sweeney, and Michael Stahl‑David. Developed through Aanaxion Studio and filmed in New Mexico, the project marks Mun’s most visible entry into the global market, positioning him as a rising voice in cross‑border genre storytelling. Although he maintains a low public profile, Mun has also been associated with projects such as Memories of Darkness and Atlantis, Legend of Golden Grasshopper, reflecting his interest in high‑concept narratives with mythic or suspense‑driven undertones. His career continues to evolve as he expands his footprint in international co‑productions and action‑driven screenwriting.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Giant – an inspiring biopic of one of the greatest showmen the sporting world has ever seen
Based on the remarkable true story of legendary British-Yemeni boxing champion Prince Naseem “Naz” Hamed and his relationship with Irish boxing trainer Brendan Ingle, Giant charts Naz’s inspiring rags-to-riches underdog tale from his humble beginnings in Sheffield to becoming champion of the world.
With his unorthodox style, cocky persona and sheer dominance of the sport, Naseem faced down the abhorrent racism and islamophobia that swept Britain in the 80’s and 90’s, to become a global sporting icon, both inside and outside of the ring.
The film explores the unlikely and tender relationship between Naz and his trainer Ingle – a steel industry worker who ran a humble boxing gym in a church hall in the North of England; and the instrumental role that Ingle played on Naz’s road to success.
With exhilarating and visceral scenes in the ring, coupled with deeply moving and intimate moments behind the curtain, Giant tells untold true story of the boy behind The Prince.
Director’s Statement
Was he a Sportsman or Rock star; a Boxer or Braggart; a British Lion or an Asian Immigrant? There was a moment in history where it seemed everyone on the planet was divided in their opinion of what ‘Prince’ Naseem Hamed was. All were united, however, in the knowledge that above all, he was an Icon. To some though, like my brothers and I, he was even more than that: He was our hero.
I grew up in the 80s and 90s in Barnsley, South Yorkshire, the son of a British mother, and Indian immigrant father. That is to say I grew up mixed-race in a place, at a time, where diversity wasn’t celebrated. It was openly derided. The National Front and the BNP had strong roots in the town, but racism wasn’t exclusive to the far-right political spectrum. It was everyday, it was consuming. It was anything from the casual use of despicable language, to the casual use of violence.
When I began writing Giant, I looked back on the first serious racism-related fight I had. It was on a recreational ground on an estate not far from my house. After enduring a couple of days of racist abuse from a fellow pupil at my school, I had agreed to fight him. And I did so, surrounded by a hundred other kids who were shouting for blood. I walked away from that fight with a bleeding nose, a bleeding mouth, and a bruised fist. It was a terrifying experience. Of course it would be, I was 11 years old at the time. I wasn’t looking for triumph that day, I wasn’t looking to make a name for myself; an obsession of many of the males at my school. I just wanted to silence the other kid, to make him stop saying the things he was saying, to leave me alone. I just wanted to get myself out of the spotlight he’d put on me.
I didn’t know it then, but just around the corner from where I lived, there was a young man who was about to force his way into the public conscious; a young man who faced the same taunts and far worse, but who unlike me, fought to have the spotlight shone on him; so he could dare his detractors to say more.
Naseem was born and raised about eight miles from me, and seven years earlier. We share a county, and much else. I’m the son of a South Asian immigrant; Naseem is the son of Western Asian Immigrants. The distance between our ancestral homelands was brought together by a common slur used against us in our hometowns. It’s a four letter word beginning with P, and it’s too ugly to use here (unavoidably, however, you’ll hear it in the film).
Though I look like my father, I’m light skinned. When discussing the racism my brothers and I faced growing up, people sometimes ask me how other people knew I was mixed-race. I silently find the question as insulting as the racism itself; it suggests we were ashamed, and sought to hide who we are. I have a go-to line that both addresses the absurdity of the question, and diffuses the uncomfortable situation it creates: “I didn’t grow up in Amsterdam in the 40s, we didn’t have to hide my father in the attic. He dropped me off at nursery when I was three, and the ruse was up”. But the truth is the intention of racism is to make you feel ashamed of who you are. And it works. Or it does on most people; it never appeared to work on Prince Naseem Hamed. And I admired him for this, above all else.
At a time when many of us tried to to hide and play down our differences, personally and professionally, Naseem went the other way. He celebrated his otherness, celebrated himself. He did so loudly, brazenly, and unapologetically in everyone’s face. The turban, for example, was an often mocked garment for those that wore them; so Naseem entered the ring wearing a giant one, fashioned with orange cloth. To those from South and Western Asia, jokes about flying around on magic carpets are as ubiquitous as they are boring. So Hamed flew across an arena into the boxing ring sitting on one like Aladdin himself. Having broken into the American market as a superstar fighter, it was said that Naseem might turn off fight fans with his frequent post-fight comments on his Muslim faith, and his praise to Allah. Naseem answered back by entering the ring to the Muslim call-to-prayer, beneath banners of sacred Muslim text. Promoter Frank Warren once commented on how his peers had told him he’d never be able to sell an Asian Muslim with the name “Hamed” to the British or the American public. But Naseem didn’t alter himself, or his name, to fit someone else’s vision of what a British fighter should be. He sold himself through sheer force of talent and personality and captured the world’s attention. And in doing so, inspired so many of us.
In the early 90s there was no one like Naseem on our cinema screens, our TV screens, our radios, or in our sport. There were no posters to put on our walls. Until Prince Naseem Hamed strutted into our lives. With style, skill, and attitude, he soon became a household name; his celebrity breaking out of the niche confines a sporting figure normally occupies. The mid 90s saw the arrival of Cool Britannia, a moment where British Youth Culture and optimism were celebrated in much of the world. Sitting on the apex of this moment, alongside the parka wearing Gallagher Brothers, the Union Jack wearing Spice Girls, and the suited Tony Blair, was the leopard-skin attired kid from Sheffield. Naseem cut an iconic figure, and was celebrated around the world. But to my brothers and I, he felt like he was ours.
Giant, however, is far from a hagiography. Even as a wide-eyed teenager watching my hero in the ring, I knew I was looking up to a deeply controversial and flawed man. But I want the world to see the circumstances that created these flaws, contradictions and controversies. To understand that from difficult circumstances, difficult people sometimes arise.
I’ve wanted to make this film for many years, for many reasons. The most important being: one, because Naseem’s story, and his journey and relationship with life-long mentor Brendan Ingle, is as moving and heartbreaking as it is exhilarating. Two, because not much has changed since the 90s. In 2025 there are still almost no Naseems on our movie screens, on our TV screens, on our radios, or in our sport. It’s shocking. And it’s incredibly sad. But it’s true.
I want the film to inspire those who still crave it, and still need it. And I want the world to once again celebrate one of the few British-Asian-Muslims in our history.
Sincerely,
Rowan Dinar Athale
ROWAN ATHALE
Rowan is a British-Indian filmmaker. He recently completed production on the Prince Naseem Hamed Biopic GIANT, which he wrote and directed, for AGC / Tea Shop /Balboa Productions / True Brit Entertainment. The film stars Pierce Brosnan & Amir El-Masry. He is currently working on LIONESS for Tea Shop Productions and THE COMEBACK for Anton Corp.
Rowan wrote and will direct dystopian thriller feature LITTLE AMERICA (Platinum Dunes/AGC Studios/Balboa Productions), which will star Sylvester. The film was a huge presales hit at the Berlin Film Festival.
His debut feature WASTELAND (aka THE RISE) starred Vanessa Kirby, Timothy Spall & Luke Treadway and premiered at TIFF. The film went on to be nominated for numerous awards, including the Douglas Hickox Award at the BIFAs, Best Newcomer at the BFI LFF and the Discovery award at TIFF. Rowan’s 2nd feature as director was noir-thriller STRANGE BUT TRUE. The film was produced by Fred Berger (La La Land) and Brian Kavanaugh-Jones and starred Margaret Qualley, Nick Robinson, Amy Ryan, Greg Kinnear, Brian Cox and Blythe Danner. CBS Films and Lionsgate released the film worldwide. He co-wrote feature OUTSIDE THE WIRE for Netflix starring Anthony Mackie & Damson Idris, which was released to huge success in 2021. Rowan also co-wrote THE VAULT, for Mediaset, and TF1. The film was produced by Ghislain Barrois and Alvaro Augustin (Pan’s Labyrinth and The Impossible) and starred Freddie Highmore, Liam Cunningham and Sam Riley. THE VAULT took the Number 1 spot on Netflix Movie Chart in its first week of release in the US and Canada and was released in the UK as an Amazon Prime Original, where it also reached No.1.
Rowan has been commissioned to write numerous original tv projects, including: HOLD OUT for Netflix, OUTSIDER for Garrison Drama; BREAKOUT for Lookout Point; RECLAIM and a reboot of Sci Fi series SURVIVORS for BBC Studios; JUST THIEVES for Boatrocker Entertainment; and THE STABLE for Garrison Drama. He wrote two episodes for the 2nd Series of GANGS OF LONDON for Pulse/Sky Atlantic. Rowan is also in development on original series SQUARE MILE for Disney/Hulu, exec produced by Guy Ritchie and Ivan Atkinson.
On the feature side, he is attached to write THE GOLDEN BRIGADE for MBC/Basil Iwanyk/Thunder Road; THE LAST GUESTS for 42 and Netflix; BLACK OPS for Vertigo Films / Sky, with Ashley Walters attached to star; and MOST WANTED for Jeff Robinov’s Studio 8. He wrote the screenplay for the English language remake of SYMPATHY FOR MISTER VEGEANCE for De Bonaventura productions and Silver Reel Productions. He is writing supernatural horror IN HER SHADOW for Tea Shop and Bankside, which he will also direct.
Rowan has had screenplays feature on both the Brit List and the Hit List. He has received several accolades as director and writer, including being named a Screen International Star of Tomorrow prior to making his feature debut, and being named as a BAFTA Breakthrough Brit upon its release.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on The Testament of Ann Lee – The extraordinary true legend of a visionary religious leader
From award-winning writer-director Mona Fastvold (The World to Come, The Brutalist) comes the extraordinary true legend of Ann Lee, founder of the devotional sect known as the Shakers.
“Our film is a retelling of the life of the extraordinary true legend Ann Lee, one of the few female religious leaders of the 18th century. She and her followers, known as the Shakers, worshipped through ecstatic song and movement—trembling, exuberant, and physically expressive acts of devotion. I was raised in a secular household, and yet Ann Lee’s prophecies—however implausible—moved me deeply. Not because I share her faith, but because I recognise in her a yearning for justice, transcendence, and communal grace. Her radical pursuit of a self-fashioned utopia speaks to the creative impulse at the heart of all artistic endeavour: the urgent need to shape the world anew. In particular, her clarity of vision and ability to guide others toward a shared ideal recalls the collaborative spirit that underpins any creative undertaking—whether composing a symphony, building a building, or making a film. Each discipline is defined by the same striving: the search for moments of grace. For me, being an artist is always about striving to create the impossible — that’s what drew me to Ann Lee. This film is offered as a tribute to her dream — and the silence that now surrounds it.” Mona Fastvold, Director, Writer, Producer.
While in production on her second feature The World to Come, award-winning writer-director MonaFastvold stumbled on a vast archive of Shaker songs of worship from the Upstate New York area. She happened upon on a hymn called “Pretty Mother’s Home,” written by a freed slave who became a prominent leader of the Shakers, which inspired her to locate dozens of other Shaker hymns from the era and led her straight to Ann Lee and the utopian community she joined in 1758.
“I didn’t know much about the Shakers beyond their furniture design, which is what most people today know of the group,” says Fastvold. “In the beginning when they were the Shaking Quakers of Manchester, it was a place for people to explore religion in a different way, and I think this aggressive style of confession became a form of therapy. People who couldn’t fit into mainstream society were drawn to the Shakers because it offered a way out of the repressive and restrictive Church of England.”
“I became fascinated by Mother Ann’s story and was surprised no one had brought to light the story of this wild feminist religious leader in late 1700s America,” Fastvold continues. “She has been completely overlooked by history. Here was a woman leading a different kind of church who was espousing radical ideas while preaching tenderness and kindness toward others.”
Fastvold’s fascination with Mother Ann transported her into a unique spiritual era of revolutionary thinking. “There was a massive surge of utopian communities and religious groups around the time Ann immigrated to America in 1774,” says Fastvold. “In Colonial-era rural America, the landscape became a kind of mecca for reimagining what society could be—or shaping civilization to one’s own liking.”
Lee as a female leader became the central focus of Fastvold’s story, which she began writing with frequent collaborator Academy Award® nominee Brady Corbet (the two were nominated for an Academy Award® for writing The Brutalist). Divided into three chapters detailing the major transitions in Lee’s life, The Testament of Ann Lee begins with her impoverished childhood and coming of age in pre-industrial Manchester, continues through her immigration to America, and culminates with 1784, her death at age 48 after a violent attack on the Shakers the previous year.
The co-writers took an interpretative approach to Ann’s story. “A lot of what is written about Ann Lee is all conjecture and hearsay. We thought that the most radical thing we could do was take their testament quite seriously,” explains Corbet, “as opposed to deconstructing it with a cynical or very contemporary sort of perspective. We didn’t think that that was the most interesting way to go about it. Mona had such a strong sense of what this was before we sat down to execute it, that it came together pretty quickly.”
For Fastvold, that part of the process “always feels a little bit like a haunting or an exorcism,” she says. “Because you’ve lived with the story and these ideas for several years. And then when you sit down to execute it, all of a sudden these characters have an opinion about where they’re going and you just have to follow it, you kind of have to run after them and then get out of the way.”
Making a full-on musical was also a creative risk she needed to take, for Ann’s sake. “Amid the colossal struggle of her story, I found humor, audacity and determination,” says Fastvold. “I felt there was ample room within this historical biography for big gestures, bold theatrics, and operatic scale.”
Ann Lee grew up poor in Manchester, where she became an early adherent of the movement known as the “Shaking Quakers,” whose members were known for chanting and shaking vigorously during prayer sessions — a kind of ecstatic dancing believed to purge sins from body and mind.
Illiterate and with no formal education, Lee started preaching after losing her four children at a young age, insisting to her followers that they could attain holiness by giving up sexual relations. Despite her own marriage, she renounced gender roles, and marriage itself, advocating social equality, which made her a controversial figure in the eyes of the Church of England. Declared a heathen and placed in a mental asylum, Lee was said to have profound visions that led her to believe herself to be God’s representative on Earth and the female reincarnation of Christ.
Finding an actor to fully embody Ann was a major task. The role required many emotional and physical challenges, including singing and dancing while preaching to her flock and speaking in a thick 18th-century working-class Mancunian accent, for which there is no documentation or recordings, only literature and text.
Academy Award® nominee Amanda Seyfried was enchanted by the visionary religious leader. “The world doesn’t know what an incredible woman Ann Lee was,” says the actress, who was nominated for an Oscar® for her work as Marion Davies in David Fincher’s Mank. “Mona herself always has a strong vision, and her work speaks for itself, but her determination to tell Ann’s story in such a unique and original way was an opportunity I couldn’t pass up. It’s essentially the origin story of the Shaker religion, which a lot of people don’t know about. I certainly didn’t know anything about Ann Lee before I talked to Mona.”
Seyfried had complete faith in Fastvold’s bold intention. “This was far from anything I’d read before, and I couldn’t fully envision what it might look like in terms of the singing and dancing sequences. But I trusted Mona, and I trusted the script, which I thought was beautiful. Did I trust myself in that world, playing with these new parameters of feminism and religious life? Not so much — but that’s always a good reason to do something.”
“From the minute Amanda began working on this role, she had a very intense connection to her character — she inhabited Ann Lee,” says Fastvold. “It didn’t hurt that she is a very unafraid actor, who located and supported the drive in the character and welcomed the physical demands, including singing and movement. She was always up for taking things three steps further than they were written on the page.”
Seyfried admired how ahead of her time Lee felt on the page and wanted to bring that alive in the movie. “While some of her ideas felt foreign — the celibacy and the idea that she was this vessel for all things holy who was being spoken to by God, the place of innocence and purity and goodness that it came from made for someone I wanted to understand on a deeper level,” says the actress. “What felt grandiose started to make a lot of sense, because sometimes we need rigidity and rules in life to make us feel safe. Ann also happened to be generous, passionate and selfless, and I came to see her as being grounded in who she was — especially after the trauma and loss she experienced at a young age. She’s very loving and generous and really believes in the best in people. She’s a rare bird and I think that’s why so many people wanted to follow her into the sun.”
As far as the look of the film, Fastvold was adamant about shooting on 35-millimeter film and blowing it up to 70-millimeter for maximum effect. “You want to feel the time period you are in, and I enjoy shooting on film because of the painterly quality it creates,” says Fastvold. “With 35mm, all the texture and grain and details — like the depths of the blacks when you light a room with candles — makes the picture look like a Caravaggio. Our director of photography William Rexer did a brilliant job; it’s fun to create this fantasy of time-travel and climbing into a painting from the period in which the movie is set.”
For Rexer, deciding what type of film to use was the big question in the beginning. “70 wasn’t going to be practical, the cameras are too noisy,” he says. “And we just knew it was going to be very hard and unwieldy to use 70 for the dance numbers and we also wanted to record so much of the singing live. We needed quiet cameras, so that’s another reason we went with 35.”
The cinematographer feels there’s an alchemy with film. “And for a project about a woman who was all about alchemy, there’s nothing more appropriate,” he says. “There’s a formality to film, even the way we slate, the fact that there’s 10 minutes on the roll and everyone knew that we had a limited budget. It’s precious — the rehearsal time, the performance, they know every minute is important and they treat it as such.”
The Shaker sect grew — first in England and then in America, because its adherents, standing in rigid defiance to the evangelical Church of England, loved confessing their sins in the form of ecstatic movements pioneered by Lee.
The Shakers stopped converting adults in the late 1800s; at the peak of their movement prior to the Civil War, there were 6,000 members. As of 2025, only three practicing Shakers exist – they all reside at the Sabbathday Lake Shaker Village in New Gloucester, Maine. This is the last active Shaker community in the World.
“The Shakers were ahead of their time in terms of their maternal and brotherly-sisterly approach to co-existing together,” says Fastvold. “The social equality aspect of the movement lives on today, to say nothing of the Shaker aesthetic in building and furniture design — the beauty of its simplicity, making something that can last forever. Ann’s legacy lies in the radical pursuit of trying, and believing in, your vision — something any artist working with limited resources can relate to.”
Seyfried remains fascinated by Ann and The Shakers’ imperfect but inspiring ideals. “It was a utopia of sorts to a lot of people. Everybody was equal, everybody had a job. They prayed all the time and made everything that they could possibly need,” she marvels. “They were completely self-reliant and they maintained that for centuries. Mother Ann shows us how community can save us, how we are not here to live our lives on our own path, but to protect and support others. It’s fascinating, inspiring and it’s beautiful in its purity.”
Mona Fastvold is an Academy Award® nominated director / writer, based in New York and Oslo. She made her directorial debut in 2012 with The Sleepwalker, which went on to premiere at Sundance in U.S. competition. The Sleepwalker was co-written by Brady Corbet (who also starred). Corbet and Fastvold continued their close collaboration with The Childhood of a Leader, which premiered at the Venice Film Festival, where it won Best Director and Best First Feature, and earned Fastvold an Independent Spirit Award Nomination.
Fastvold frequently writes for and in collaboration with several directors, including Brady Corbet and Laure de Clermont-Tonnerre. She co-wrote The Brutalist with Corbet, which premiered at the 2024 Venice Film Festival winning the Silver Lion Award. The Brutalist was nominated for ten Academy Awards®, including Best Original Screenplay for Fastvold and Corbet (winning the Academy Award® for Best Actor, Best Original Score, and Best Cinematography), nine BAFTA Awards (winning Best Director, Best Actor, Best Cinematography and Best Original Score), and seven Golden Globes®, including Best Screenplay – Motion Picture for Fastvold and Corbet, (winning Best Motion Picture – Drama, Best Director – Motion Picture, Best Actor – Motion Picture – Drama).
Fastvold directed her second feature The World to Come, starring Katherine Waterston and Vanessa Kirby. The acclaimed film premiered in official competition at the 2020 Venice Film Festival. Fastvold is a member of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts & Sciences.
BRADY CORBET – Writer
Brady Corbet is a writer, director and actor. Brady made his feature directorial debut in 2015 with The Childhood of a Leader, starring Academy Award® nominee Bérénice Bejo and Robert Pattinson. The film was lauded with critical acclaim and decorated at the Venice Film Festival with the Orrizonti Best Director Award and Luigi De Laurentiis Lion of the Future Award for Best Debut Film.
His previous directing effort was the short film Protect You + Me, which won an award at the 2009 Sundance Film Festival and was shot by legendary cinematographer Darius Khondji. His second feature film, Vox Lux, starring Academy Award® Winner Natalie Portman and Academy Award® Nominee Jude Law was hailed by critics after it premiered in competition at the 2018 Venice Film Festival, London Film Festival and Toronto International Film Festival.
Corbet directed and co-wrote the BAFTA, Golden Globe® and Academy Award® winning film The Brutalist, starring Academy Award® winner Adrien Brody, Academy Award® nominee Felicity Jones and Academy Award® nominee Guy Pearce. The film was received with universal acclaim at the 2024 Venice Film Festival in competition, winning the Silver Lion Award for Best Director.
As an actor, Corbet has worked with world class filmmakers such as Michael Haneke, Olivier Assayas, Ruben Östlund, Noah Baumbach, Lars Von Trier, Gregg Araki, Lisa Cholodenko and Antonio Campos, among many others.
DANIEL BLUMBERG – Composer
Daniel Blumberg is a London-based composer and artist. He is best known for his Academy Award® and BAFTA winning score for The Brutalist (dir. Brady Corbet, 2024). He also composed music for the forthcoming film Sotto Le Nuvole (dir. Gianfranco Rosi). He has released three solo albums on Mute and is a visual artist who draws with silverpoint.
WILLIAM REXER, ASC – Director of Photography
William Rexer, ASC is a director of photography of feature films, tv series, commercials, documentaries, and music videos. He is represented by The Gersh Agency.
Currently, he is finishing post on the film The Family McMullen, directed by Ed Burns. His most recent work includes Millers in Marriage by Ed Burns.; Long Bright River with Amanda Seyfried; The Crowded Room with Tom Holland; and Ryan Murphy’s “Halston” with Ewan McGregor; Jordan Peeles’s “Hunters”, season 1 and 2 with Al Pacino; “The Loudest Voice” with Russell Crowe, Siena Miller and Naomi Watts; “The Tick”; Ed Burn’s “Public Morals”; and “The Get Down” for Baz Luhrmann.
His previous feature films include: Under Blue Suburban Skies, by Ed Burns; Friends with Kids, directed by Jennifer Westfeldt; Ceremony, by Max Winkler; The Accidental Husband, directed by Griffin Dunne; I Think I Love My Wife, directed by Chris Rock; Prime, directed by Ben Younger; Griffin Dunne’s Fierce People; and Ed Burn’s Newlyweds.
His camera work includes participation in such films as Martin Scorsese’s Il Mio Viaggio in Italia and Michael Moore’s Fahrenheit 911. His documentaries include Griffin Dunne’s Joan Didion: The Center Will Not Hold; Tom Zimny’s The Promise and the Grammy award winning Wings for Wheels: The Making of Born To Run; Ricki Stern and Anne Sundberg’s The Trials of Darryl Hunt; Peter Gilbert’s With All Deliberate Speed; Blue Note: A Story of Modern Jazz (GRAMMY nomination); Side by Side, AIDS and Zimbabwe; and Neglect Not the Children (Emmy Nominee).
He has made music videos for OK Go, Beyonce, Bruce Springsteen, Bob Dylan, David Byrne and Mobe.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Hoppers – An outrageously original action-packed comedy
Hoppers uncovers the beautiful and wild world that exists in our own backyard. Directed by Daniel Chong (“We Bare Bears”) and produced by Nicole Paradis Grindle (“Incredibles 2”), the attention-grabbing feature uncovers secrets of the animal kingdom in an innovative yet distinctly Pixar way.
“The thing that always guided us was the comedy and the characters,” explains director Daniel Chong. “That was what we chased the hardest. We knew it was our team’s strong suit, and we made sure early on to establish a unique comedic tone with fun characters to build everything on.”
“A story like this, with characters arguing constantly, has to be funny,” agrees producer Nicole Paradis Grindle. “We wanted it to have emotion and feature a ton of action too. It’s even a thriller when you get to the final scenes. But the humour was the initial key, since it brings people in. It’s an amazing story to tell in animation, this idea that we can see into that animal world and enjoy animals, as animals.”
Chong, who has a long-standing relationship with Pixar that extends back to the original “Inside Out,” was thrilled to have the chance to pitch the idea that would eventually become “Hoppers.”
“‘Hoppers’ exists thanks to Pete Docter,” says Chong. “Years ago I worked with him on ‘Inside Out’ as a story artist, then left to create my TV show ‘We Bare Bears.’ Pete and I had kept in touch, and when the show was over, Pete invited me back to direct something; coming back, it helped a lot that we had already worked together, and that I already knew the Pixar process.”
Chong continues, “I pitched three movie ideas, and ‘Hoppers’ was the one I was pretty certain they would never go for. It was so strange and goofy–I barely took the idea seriously. But I think people saw what the movie could be, and that there was a really interesting concept at its core.”
When Chong initially conceived the idea, beavers weren’t a focal point of the story. “I had this fixation with penguins for some inexplicable reason, and was determined to make the movie about them. But Pete didn’t feel the world needed another penguin movie. He was right, of course,” he explains. “As I continued to develop the idea, I came across a story about how Yellowstone National Park had rewilded their ecosystems with wolves after they had all disappeared. Their reintroduction began to rebalance things–leading to other animals returning, including beavers. And once beavers returned, and built their dams and ponds, a giant wealth of animals and plants returned. They are often referred to as ecosystem engineers.”
From there, everything began to fall into place.
“Beavers are a keystone species that can sustain wildlife in the most unique way, and it became very obvious that they would be the perfect vessels for the movie to tell this story–they are also super cute and round!” Chong adds. “In our research, we also noticed that people are starting to recognize what beavers can do–and their impact on their habitats–by just doing their thing, and it’s remarkable. These little guys deserve to be stars.”
In Disney and Pixar’s all-new animated comedy adventure “Hoppers,” animal-lover Mabel (voice of Piper Curda) seizes an opportunity to use a new technology to “hop” her consciousness into a lifelike robotic beaver and communicate directly with animals. As she uncovers mysteries in the animal world beyond anything she could have imagined, Mabel befriends charismatic beaver King George (voice of Bobby Moynihan), and must rally the entire animal kingdom to face a major imminent human-threat: smooth-talking local mayor Jerry Generazzo (voice of Jon Hamm). The all-star voice ensemble also features Kathy Najimy, Dave Franco and Meryl Streep.
DANIEL CHONG (Director) Daniel Chong joined Pixar Animation Studios in February 2009 as a story artist, and has worked on several short and feature productions including the “Cars Toons” TV special “Toy Story of TERROR!” and the feature film “Cars 2.” He also worked on the Academy Award®-winning film “Inside Out.” Prior to joining Pixar, Chong worked as a story artist for Disney Feature Animation, Blue Sky, Nickelodeon and llumination. Most recently he was the creator of the Emmy®-nominated TV series “We Bare Bears” for Cartoon Network, which ran for four seasons. “We Bare Bears: The Movie” was released in 2020. Growing up in Orange County, Calif., Chong earned a BFA from Cal State Long Beach and also attended CalArts.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on They Will Kill You – A stylistically charged horror‑action comedy
They Will Kill You is an intriguing and stylistically charged horror‑action comedy that blends urban paranoia, occult mythology, and darkly comic violence into a tightly wound, 94‑minute descent into the underbelly of privilege and power.
Directed by Kirill Sokolov, the Russian filmmaker known for his ferocious, hyper‑stylised dark comedies Why Don’t You Just Die! and No Looking Back, the film marks his first major American studio project and showcases his signature blend of kinetic brutality, sardonic humour, and razor‑sharp visual storytelling.
Sokolov co‑wrote the screenplay with Alex Litvak, a writer with a background in large‑scale genre filmmaking, including Predators and The Three Musketeers, bringing together two creative sensibilities that thrive on tension, spectacle, and a sly awareness of genre conventions.
They Will Kill You is set in New York, but was shot in Cape Town, South Africa. Prior to pre-production, writer/director Kirill Sokolov storyboarded every single frame of film he expected to shoot—creating approximately 1200 boards—and was even able to utilize them during casting, to show prospective talent how he envisioned the film.
The story centres on Asia Reaves, played by Zazie Beetz, an ex‑convict seeking a fresh start who answers a help‑wanted ad for a housekeeping job in an exclusive New York City high‑rise known as The Virgil. What begins as a chance at stability quickly devolves into a waking nightmare as she discovers that the building is home to a Satanic cult responsible for a string of disappearances.
The premise—simple, claustrophobic, and instantly gripping—allows Sokolov to build tension through confinement, secrecy, and the slow revelation of a community whose wealth and influence mask a grotesque devotion to ritual sacrifice.
The supporting cast deepens the film’s tonal range: Myha’la, Paterson Joseph, Tom Felton, Heather Graham, and Patricia Arquette populate the building with a mix of charm, menace, and eccentricity, each contributing to the unsettling sense that The Virgil is less a residence than a gilded trap. Felton plays Kevin, a member of the cult, while Graham and Arquette add layers of brittle glamour and moral decay to the ensemble.
Thoughts From The Filmmakers
Writer-director Kirill Sokolov
On the unusual inspiration behind the story…
So there is a true story that inspired this one. Basically eight years ago, my wife and I moved to a new apartment. It was a strange 16-story building. A couple of days after moving in, we realized that we were the only two people who were younger than 60 years old living in the building. Everybody was much older than us, and mostly women. No dudes. And we were like, what’s going on here? And then we noticed that they all had cats, and they hated us because we had a dog. And every time I walked in or out of the building, I heard them whispering. They had benches in front of the entrance where they just sat, these old women, whispering, “Why is he so late, what is he wearing?” And we started to make this running joke that this whole building probably belongs to some sort of cult, and they had our apartment for rent to lure young people like us in and then sacrifice us.
On crafting the script with cowriter Alex Litvak…
Alex Litvak loved this idea. From day one, we discussed how to do a classic horror movie, but a little bit more twisted. How to play with this genre. We have this classic beginning with a female protagonist who steps into a dangerous place, so everyone would think that she probably will be a victim. She will slowly get her empowerment, a classic movie trope, but we made it different.
On what makes everything happening at the Virgil so frightening…
I think the scariest part of it is that it has this social base that really feels and looks familiar, because it’s taken from real life. If you just watch how actual cults in real life operate, it’s how this Virgil system works. How they lure people in, how some of the people become their sacrifices and the others stay in it and work for the cult. People with money abuse their power and use the rest of the people who they’ve confined. So that’s, I think, the scariest part of it. But also, there are a lot of classic horror moments like jump scares, darkness, violence, and blood.
Screenwriter Alex Litvak
On how the inspiration for They Will Kill You came about / developing the script with Kirill Sokolov…
I originally met Kirill after he read and loved a big-budget heist script I had written. But I figured I should at least watch his earlier work before forming an opinion. That’s when I discovered Why Don’t You Just Die?, which I absolutely loved. It was stylish, bloody, operatic, violent, funny, scary and completely unconventional—Sergio Leone meets Sam Raimi, an epic set inside a tiny apartment. In short, very Kirill.
A few years later, over dinner, Kirill mentioned an idea he had called Nine Floors of Hell, inspired by an apartment building where the neighbors always seemed to be watching and whispering about you. The moment I heard it, I could instantly see the trailer in my head. I knew it was a movie. From there we started developing the story together, shaping the idea into the world and narrative that eventually became THEY WILL KILL YOU. Writing the script took time, but we kept pushing forward until we finally cracked it.
On what it was like working with renowned horror filmmakers Andy and Barbara Muschietti…
When we took the script to market, we were fortunate to have two competing buyers. For us, the goal wasn’t just to sell the script—it was to make the movie without losing the unconventional style and the inspired madness we had baked into the pages. The moment we met Andy and Barbara, it was clear we weren’t dealing with producers so much as fellow artists who immediately understood what we were trying to do. They believed in the tone of the film and supported our mission from the start. That ultimately made the choice to go with them a no-brainer, and it turned out to be the best decision we could have made.
On combining the elements of action-horror-comedy into a nonstop ride of a story…
With every scene, we kept asking ourselves: can we make this scarier, funnier, or more exciting? If the answer was yes, we pushed it further. The goal was to keep the audience constantly off balance and on the edge of their seats.
On devising the setting and significance of the Virgil…
In the original pitch, the building was a scary tower in the middle of nowhere. But we quickly pivoted and landed on the idea of an exclusive condo complex in the heart of the city—a seemingly welcoming Rosemary’s Baby-style community most would kill (or die) to live in. That helped fuel some of the film’s themes: class, disposable people, the struggle to belong, to find a home, and the cost that comes with it. We also played with the idea that each floor represents a level of Hell. At one point the metaphor was more explicit, but we felt the building was starting to overshadow the characters, so we dialed that back. Suffice it to say, we think we’re only scratching the surface with the Virgil—and there may be more places like it all over the world…
Filmmaker KIRILL SOKOLOV (Writer/Director) is known for his unique vision with a mix of visceral horror and sharp humor. His work includes 8 short films, 3 feature films, as well as numerous commercials and music videos.His first feature film made within the Hollywood Studio system is They Will Kill You, starring Zazie Beetz with an ensemble cast including Patricia Arquette, Myha’la, Heather Graham, Tom Felton, and Paterson Joseph. Kirill directed the film, wrote the screenplay (along with Alex Litvak), and was as an Executive Producer. They Will Kill You unleashes a blood-soaked, high-octane horror-action-comedy in which a young woman must survive the night at the Virgil, a demonic cult’s mysterious and twisted death-trap of a lair, to avoid becoming their next offering. The film breaks the genre norms by combining an action-packed horror movie with visceral elements of gore and wickedly dark humor. It is fun, bold, scary, and original. The production team behind They Will Kill You, includes Andy Muschietti and Barbara Muschietti along with Skydance and New Line Cinema. Warner Bros. will release the film in theaters on March 27, 2026. Why Don’t You Just Die was his feature directorial debut. The film is an action-filled dark comedy that is distinctly Russian but uniquely characterized as a Western-style action film playing out in the confines of a Moscow apartment. It premiered at Fantasia, where it won the Audience Award as well as Best New Director. Arrow released the film, and it currently has a “Certified Fresh” rating of 97% on Rotten Tomatoes. Born in Russia, Kirill is currently based in Los Angeles. He graduated with a master’s degree in the Physics and Technology of Nanostructures before turning his career sights to filmmaking.
ALEX LITVAK (Writer) is a screenwriter whose produced credits include the upcoming live-action feature Masters of the Universe (2026) for Mattel and Amazon MGM Studios, They Will Kill You (2026) for Skydance and New Line, the Disney+ original Secret Society of Second Born Royals (2020), The Three Musketeers (2011) and Predators (2010). Litvak is currently writing the action-adventure Becoming Houdini for Disney and adapting the young adult bestseller Sky’s End as a feature film for director Antoine Fuqua. Prior to his writing career, Litvak was a feature executive at Fox and Intermedia, where he worked on more than two dozen films, including X-Men, Training Day, and Terminator 3. He is a graduate of the USC School of Cinematic Arts.
Andy and Barbara Muschietti are the sibling filmmaking team behind some of the most commercially and critically successful horror films of the past decade. Andy, as director, and Barbara, as producer, first broke through with Mama, a short film that evolved into a feature backed by Guillermo del Toro. They achieved global recognition with It (2017) and It Chapter Two, redefining Stephen King’s iconic story for a new generation and demonstrating their ability to blend emotional depth with large‑scale, crowd‑pleasing horror. Together, they founded Nocturna, a production banner dedicated to championing bold, director‑driven genre projects. They Will Kill You marks the first film under this label, reflecting their commitment to nurturing distinctive voices like Kirill Sokolov and expanding the boundaries of studio‑backed horror. Their work is characterised by ambition, craftsmanship, and a deep respect for the emotional core of genre storytelling.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on The Magic Faraway Tree – A celebration of both the natural world and our imaginations
The challenge with any beloved children’s classic is how to bring it to the screen while preserving what made it special in the first place.
The Faraway Tree books are particularly challenging in this regard because so much of their charm lies in Blyton’s prose and in the reader’s own imagination. Each reader has their own vision of what Moonface looks like, how the slippery-slip feels, and what Pop Cakes taste like. The magical lands exist in the space of childhood imagination where anything is possible, and nothing needs to be over-explained.
Yet the core themes of the Faraway Tree stories – the hunger for adventure, the importance of friendship, the celebration of both the natural world and our imaginations, and the idea that wonder can be found if you just know where to look – are timeless. Every generation of children faces the same challenge of growing up in a world that often seems determined to extinguish imagination and play. Every generation needs to be reminded that magic is real if you choose to believe in it.
The journey to bring The Magic Faraway Tree to cinemas began nearly two decades ago, when producer Pippa Harris at Neal Street Productions first recognised the cinematic potential in Blyton’s enchanted world. “I got in touch with the publishers to get the option 18 years ago,” she notes. “It was a book I’d read as a kid; the first one I read to myself. And then, when I became a mum, I read it to my daughter, and then she read it by herself when she got a bit older. It has very much been part of my life and something I’ve always wanted to make as a movie.”
During the negotiation process, the Blyton estate was sold to Hachette. After the sale, Harris, now joined by fellow producer Nicolas Brown, made a new approach and optioned the books in 2013.
The Neal Street duo then took the project to Danny Perkins, who at the time headed up StudioCanal in the UK. Perkins and StudioCanal had recently made Paddington, which had demonstrated the appetite for quintessentially British family films that honoured their source material while speaking to contemporary audiences. “We hadn’t released Paddington yet, but we were looking for other films in a similar sphere,” Perkins says. “I’d always loved The Magic Faraway Tree. It had been my sister’s favourite book, and we had grown up with it.”
Based on the beloved The Faraway Tree series of novels for children, The Magic Faraway Treefollows Polly and Tim and their children Beth, Joe and Fran – a modern family who find themselves forced to relocate to the remote English countryside. Soon after their arrival, with no Wi-Fi or electricity to charge their treasured electronic gadgets, the children must develop an interest in the great outdoors. Exploring the natural world around their new home, the children discover a magical tree and its extraordinary and eccentric residents, including cherished characters Moonface, Silky, Dame Washalot and Saucepan Man. At the top of the tree, they are transported to spectacular and fantastical lands, and, through the joys and challenges of their adventures, the family learn to reconnect and value each other for the first time in years.
The Write Stuff
With the rights and development funding secured, the search began for a writer who could crack the adaptation – someone who understood both the reverence required for a beloved classic and the need to make it feel fresh and relevant for modern families.
Simon Farnaby had built his reputation primarily in adult comedy, working with the Them There collective on shows like Horrible Histories, Yonderland, and Ghosts, and co-writing films like Mindhorn.
He appeared as an actor in the original Paddington film, playing security guard Barry, but it was his co-writing work with director Paul King on Paddington 2 that revealed his gift for family storytelling. The critically acclaimed sequel, which earned BAFTA nominations for both Best Adapted Screenplay and Outstanding British Film, proved that Farnaby’s wit and warmth could translate beautifully to children’s cinema.
Having worked closely with him on the Paddington films, Perkins saw in Farnaby someone who understood how to adapt cherished children’s literature without sacrificing its soul. “I started talking to Simon about writing it way back then, and the development process was a long one,” he says.
“We just thought he was perfect when we met him over a decade ago,” adds Harris. “He loved the book, and I think reacted in the same way we had. He loved the idea of a book that celebrates childhood imagination and nature. His script isn’t preachy about the dangers of tech, but it’s saying you have to strike a balance. Any good childhood will need to have some tech in it, but it also needs time for kids to go and run wild in a forest.”
For Farnaby, the project arrived at a moment when he was questioning how children’s entertainment had evolved – or perhaps devolved – in the digital age. “When I was a kid, all I did was play in the woods, to the point where my parents never knew where I was,” laughs Farnaby. “I suppose I wanted that feeling of the magic of childhood to come across, that you should put your devices down and go and play in the woods.
Farnaby was confident he could riff upon the fantastical elements of Blyton’s stories, but it was this aspect of the story, unlocked to him by his wife, Claire Keelan, that gave him a handle on his adaptation. In fact, during the writing process it was the pandemic that crystallized something for Farnaby about what children were missing. Like so many parents watching their kids navigate lockdown through screens, he’d seen firsthand the hunger for something more tactile, more immediate, and wilder.
This concern about children’s disconnection from nature and unstructured play became woven into the fabric of Farnaby’s adaptation. The Thompsons are a family struggling with the very modern problem of too much screen time, too little connection, and the loss of childhood wonder to the digital world. The discovery of the Faraway Tree becomes not only an adventure, but a kind of healing.
“I knew the tree would take care of itself in a way,” Farnaby says. “I knew we’d have Silky, Moonface and Mr Watzisname. I had confidence in the lands we’d visit. But a movie has to have a heart. The books are adventures, and they’re episodic and they really are great, but there’s no overarching development to it, emotionally.”
The episodic nature of Blyton’s books presented both an opportunity and a challenge. With four novels to draw from, each containing multiple adventures in different lands, Farnaby had an abundance of material. The task involved selecting which magical lands to include and how to create a cohesive narrative arc between them that would sustain a feature film while preserving the whimsical, exploratory spirit of the books.
“Simon has an amazing ability to make something funny and truthful, and to make it sentimental and heartfelt without it being cheesy or clichéd,” notes Claire Foy, who would come to be cast as Polly, the mum of the Thompson family. “You’re crying and laughing at the same time. He’s always thinking of ways to make it better, different, funnier, all the time. He’s in the movie, and he has written the movie, so he’s never not working at it.”
Adds Andrew Garfield, who plays Tim: “He’s so precise with his writing and yet so open and fluid to people making it their own. He’ll take an idea and make it a thousand times funnier and better and more human. This was the funniest script I’ve ever read, and the themes were very close to my heart: getting back in touch with nature and remembering our connection to nature.”
Finding A Director
The search for a director who could bring Farnaby’s script to life led back to another familiar collaborator. Ben Gregor had been working with Neal Street on the historical drama Britannia, where he’d proven himself a skilled and imaginative visual storyteller capable of balancing epic scale with intimate character moments. The fantasy series, set in 43 AD during the Roman invasion of Britain, required exactly the kind of world-building sensibility that The Magic Faraway Tree would demand, creating believable magic within grounded human stories.
Gregor and Farnaby had known each other for years through the comedy world, sharing a similar sensibility about how humour and heart must coexist. When the producers shared Farnaby’s script for The Magic Faraway Tree with him, Gregor’s response was immediate and enthusiastic.
“We met a lot of directors who said they really loved the script,” recalls Perkins. “But when we met Ben, he told us everything he didn’t like about it, and what he thought he could improve upon. He knew Simon from way back and he understood Blyton’s themes and the world of the film.”
For Gregor, the project touched something deeply personal. He had grown up with
Blyton’s books – or rather, he had desperately wanted to. His sister had owned a wellworn copy of The Magic Faraway Tree, and the young Gregor had been fascinated by it, though access was strictly controlled. “I wasn’t allowed to read it,” he laughs. “My sister really defended her Blyton books, so it had this kind of forbidden quality. It was amazing to finally be allowed to read it.”
In fact, Gregor was on the set of Britannia when he first received the screenplay. He recalls filming that day with an eagle that, like any primo thespian, had a strict hard-out for the day at 5PM. As his crew rushed to set up shots in order to beat the eagle’s roosting deadline, Gregor eagerly turned the pages on the script. “I was completely torn between not being able to stop reading it and having to hurry up with the eagle,” he says. “It just felt so imaginative, and so impossible to film.”
Of course, Gregor took this last part as a challenge. “I just really wanted to get involved in trying to figure out how to do it.”
The challenge was considerable, perhaps even daunting. How do you create a film that honours the ambition and scale of Blyton’s imagination while keeping it grounded in character and emotion? How do you build entire magical worlds that feel real and lived-in, and not just spectacular set pieces designed to dazzle? The lands at the top of the tree – from the chaotic wonder of the Land of Birthdays to the unsettling order of Dame Snap’s eternal school – each needed to feel like a complete world with its own internal logic and visual language, while coalescing as a whole.
Crucial to the realisation of Gregor’s eventual vision was finding a producer who was imaginative and experienced enough to take on the challenge of delivering it on a relatively modest budget. Perkins had worked with producer Jane Hooks of Perfume Pictures on the film The Greatest Days. The experience had been so positive that Perkins was determined to work with Hooks again, and The Magic Faraway
Tree felt like the perfect project to match her skillset.
“Bringing it all together was a huge undertaking,” Perkins explains. “Jane was brilliant at that, in concert with the team at Neal Street. It became a great, complementary team of producers to achieve a scale for an independent production that felt unprecedented.”
But beyond the huge task of conceiving and delivering so many different worlds on time and on budget, the crucial question for a family film in the modern era was: how do you make it feel both timeless and contemporary, honouring the source material while having it speak to today’s families and children?
“Ben has extraordinary imagination,” says Harris. “He understands well that for an audience to buy into the spectacle, they need to be rooted in the characters’ journeys; that’s the thing that takes them through. So, he concentrated on working with the actors and getting the best possible performances out of them while at the same time the other half of his brain was creating around them this beautiful series of worlds that they go into.”
“The first step was to preserve all the ambition and not simplify it,” explains Gregor. “Of course, that led to dropped jaws all over the place. It meant embracing the words, ‘I don’t know.’ As an independent movie, we had to be really clever, but we also had to be really ambitious.”
It helped that Gregor and Farnaby had worked together before. “They share a sensibility, so that was such a helpful shorthand to have,” notes Brown. “It’s also a relationship clearly based on huge mutual respect, which is not always the case between writers and directors!”
“I’ve known Ben for a long time through comedy,” says Farnaby. “He’s very relaxed and he doesn’t ever make things stressful. A film or television set can be a stressful place, but he always manages to make it fun, and his enthusiasm is very infectious. He knows comedy, he loves it, and he’s an enormous well of emotion. He’s always making himself cry.”
“Ben is basically a giant child, in the best possible sense,” smiles Foy. “He makes everyone excited about the world. He has such a sense of humour and lightness to him, and he really gets the emotional context of the film and wants it to be embedded in reality too. I don’t quite know how he lived in both of those worlds, but he did it.”
“He’s a very unique, detailed comedian of a director,” adds Rebecca Ferguson, who plays Dame Snap. “He has a very astute and sensitive reaction to a scene, when it comes to timing, humour, breath work, singing…”
Ferguson laughs: “He made me realise I was being funny sometimes when it wasn’t my own choice; I was actually just copying him. All my acting was basically just me copying Ben!”
Gregor’s approach to the production was fundamentally collaborative, built on the principle that everyone involved, from the costume designers to the set builders to the visual effects team, should feel like co-creators rather than executors of a predetermined vision. He wanted The Magic Faraway Tree to feel handmade, crafted with care and imagination by a community of artists all working toward the same magical goal.
This wasn’t just directorial philosophy, but rather a practical filmmaking strategy. Gregor understood that a film asking audiences to believe in fairy folk and magical lands rotating at the top of an enormous tree would only work if every element felt considered, textured, and real.
“He’s a mile-a-minute,” says Garfield. “He is full of a thousand ideas and so open to everyone else’s. He wants everyone’s genius to be in it, from the costume designers to the set designers, to the builders to the gaffers. You can feel it in every single texture and every single prop. In every set. He’s wonderful and he’s such a kind of highenergy, high-octane spirit himself. He’s the perfect person to be steering this ship.”
“Ben was great at making sure everyone knew the scale of what we were aiming for,” says Perkins. “The more love goes into the movie, you more you feel it on screen. So, Ben got everyone together regularly to show them all what was happening, and we screened footage for everybody on set.”
The production workshops became laboratories of invention. In one corner, craftspeople spent months creating individual mushrooms for the enchanted wood, each one different, and designed to feel like it had grown organically from Blyton’s imagination. In another, the costume department worked on the intricate details of Saucepan Man’s pots-and-pans ensemble (that couldn’t clatter in real life in the interests of recording clean dialogue) or the shimmering quality of Silky’s ‘fairiest fairy’ dress. Rather than simply receiving instructions, these artisans were encouraged to bring their own ideas, and their own sense of what these characters and worlds should be.
“You’d go into the workshops full of people making mushrooms and you’d ask, ‘Do you know why you’re making them?’” explains Gregor. “They’d say, no, they were just doing their task for the day. So, I got all these presentations we’d done for the film, and I gathered everyone together and showed them. We’d show them assemblies to let them know what the film was going to look like.”
It wasn’t about seeking approval or managing egos. Instead, it was about creating a genuine sense of shared ownership. When the mushroom-makers could see their creations on screen – when they understood how their months of detailed work served the story and the magic – they were inspired to push even further and to find new levels of craft and imagination.
Says Gregor: “What it meant was that everyone got galvanised to come up with their own ideas and it was pretty incredible. It felt like everyone was engaged, and therefore the scale of what we could achieve was much, much bigger.”
Timeless Themes, Modern Relevance
At its heart, Enid Blyton’s The Magic Faraway Tree has always been about the hunger for adventure and the transformative power of imagination. But for Ben Gregor, Simon Farnaby and the creative team, the challenge was identifying which elements of Blyton’s 1940s stories would resonate most powerfully with 21st Century audiences, and how to honour the source material while making it speak to the specific struggles of modern families. Says Andrew Garfield, simply, “It’s a beautiful film about family and about love, imagination and reconnecting with the things that matter in this life.”
The answer for the team revealed itself in the contemporary crisis that parents everywhere will recognise: children’s increasing disconnection from nature, from unstructured play, and from each other, replaced by the hypnotic pull of screens and digital worlds.
“The film has an integrated heart to it about the struggle of a family to preserve the joy within their family, and to preserve it against the onslaught of technology, and all the things that parents and kids face these days to try to connect with one another,” explains Gregor. “What it really is, is an advert for doing things in real life. Everything’s on screen these days, and to go and have real experiences in nature and in places you haven’t been before, that makes you feel alive. What we wanted to do with The Magic Faraway Tree is to remind you that it’s a good idea to go out and have some fun.”
But the filmmakers were careful not to make technology itself the villain of the piece. The story they wanted to tell was more nuanced and more honest about the realities of contemporary life. “We felt it was important to stress that technology in and of itself isn’t bad,” says Harris. “In fact, Joe uses technology to help them out of one of the scrapes they get into. But it’s all about balance, and that we have to be aware of the importance in childhood of allowing kids to be out in nature. The natural world is another massive character in the film.”
This autonomy for the children in embracing nature – the freedom to explore and to make mistakes, but most importantly to discover – becomes central to the film’s philosophy. “It became more and more what the film was about,” says Gregor, “which is the kids finding all kinds of adventure in these magical worlds. Discovering confidence and finding themselves in the process.”
The fantasy elements, spectacular as they are, serve the emotional reality of a family learning to reconnect. Says Gregor: “They needed to be emotionally tied into the journey of the kids, and especially Fran, who discovers them for the first time.”
Ultimately, the film asks a question that feels urgent in our current moment: in a world of infinite digital distraction, how do we preserve the magic of childhood? How do we help children – and ourselves – remember that the most profound adventures happen not on screens, but in woods and gardens, in conversations and connections, in the unpredictable, irreplaceable experience of being fully present in the real world?
“Yes, The Magic Faraway Tree does feature a magical tree,” says Gregor. “But the message in the film is that any tree is magic. Going into the woods is magic. Spending time with your family is magic. Putting down your phone is magic. Magic is everywhere, if you look for it.”
Ben Gregor – Director
Ben’s dad took him to see Top Gun in the cinema in Beckenham when he was thirteen even though it was rated fifteen. This was an unbelievably exciting event that Ben has never recovered from. He has collaborated with Simon Farnaby (as an actor) for years on projects like Blakes Junction 7 – a short film about Blake’s 7 going to Newport Pagnell services, and All Stars a feature about dancing set inside kids’ minds. Ben’s second feature film Fatherhood won Best Feature at Soma Film festival 2018. Ben has also directed TV shows like Black Ops for BBC1 (BAFTA Winner for Best Female Comedy Performance 2024) and Brassic (BAFTA nominated Best Scripted Comedy 2025). It was working with Jez Butterworth on Sky’s Britannia that led to Ben meeting Pippa Harris and Nick Brown from Neal Street, the producers of this film. This is the first time Ben has collaborated with Simon Farnaby as a writer and it is safe to say it was easily as exciting as his Top Gun experience.
Simon Farnaby – Screenwriter + Farmer Brian
Simon Farnaby is a screenwriter, actor and author. Simon is perhaps best known for writing Wonka, Paddington and Paddington 2 alongside long-term collaborator Paul King. Simon has also written and starred in indie film comedies
Mindhorn and The Phantom Of The Open.
On the TV side, Simon is also known for his work on The Detectorists, Horrible Histories and the long-running BBC comedy GHOSTS with theatrical production collective Them There.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on In Conversation with… Writer, Director and Producer Maggie Gyllenhaal
From Maggie Gyllenhaal (Academy Award-nominated writer/director of The Lost Daughter) and starring Academy Award nominee Jessie Buckley and Academy Award winner Christian Bale comes THE BRIDE! A bold, iconoclastic take on one of the world’s most compelling stories.
Spark of an Idea
Maggie Gyllenhaal: I was on the lookout for a new story. I saw this tattoo of the Bride of Frankenstein at a party and I thought, “Something about this character has captured our culture.” And I then went back and watched the movie for the first time, because I had never seen it, and I found it really interesting that she’s not really in it. I will say Elsa Lanchester makes a real impact. I mean, she’s in it for three minutes, but she has somehow taken the culture by storm. But to be honest, she doesn’t talk. She doesn’t speak. She doesn’t get an opportunity to express herself. And I thought it was an interesting puzzle. This guy understandably is so lonely looking for a mate. But then, just anyone will do, and bringing someone back who doesn’t have any agency herself. So, what happens if you take that same format, that same story, but you give her a huge amount of agency, and give her a huge amount of need, and intelligence, and soulfulness, and vulnerability, and power? Then what happens? That seemed like a puzzle worth getting into.
The Lure Of Frankenstein
Maggie Gyllenhaal: This is the story of the Bride of Frankenstein and ultimately, as is clear from the title, it’s the story of the Bride. But this is a different story. What I want to say about Frankenstein and the reason why Frankenstein and Mary Shelley and the idea were so interesting to me is that I am interested in monstrousness. I’m interested in the monstrousness I see outside of myself that I think is really kind of alive and everywhere right now. I’m also interested in the monstrousness I see inside myself. And at the time, I was particularly interested in that. I was like, “What is this terrifying stuff that I personally believe is in all of us?” And Frankenstein is a way to think about and understand that. Because Frankenstein in the book is, I think, a monster that you can empathize with, and allows you to maybe take a look at the monster inside you. But this is not that. That’s the starting-off point, but then my movie is really a different story.
The Power Of Saying No
Maggie Gyllenhaal: It absolutely is a fundamental part of The Bride, that line—I would prefer not to. It comes back all the way through the movie. I can only speak for myself and what I see in the world, but to say no—even “I would prefer not to,” even in that extremely gentle, generous, thoughtful way—is very hard. And I think it might be, again—I don’t want to be reductive, I don’t want to speak for everyone—maybe particularly difficult for women, and unusual. But let’s forget that even. How difficult is it to swim upstream and say, “No”? I’m not going to do things in the same way, in the same language, as if they’ve always been done before. I’m actually going to gently, thoughtfully say, “I would prefer not to.” I’ve actually tried it, just to say those words in my life, and it’s intense. It is. Try it. It’s intense. And people respond to that intensity in all different ways. And for The Bride, without anyone asking her, she’s brought back to life to be Frank’s lover. Lied to. Pushed into this situation without any bearings, without any context, and certainly without any agency. And that’s her first act of rebellion. And it’s not like she’s saying, “No.” She’s not. She’s saying, “That doesn’t work for me. I would prefer not to.” And then, it works for her all the way throughout the movie and ultimately works for other people, too. I love it. I mean, really, try it. Try saying it in the world—it’s intense.
Tropes As Anchors
Maggie Gyllenhaal: I know that there are a lot of things in this movie that are new. And I know that there are a lot of things in this movie that beat to a different drum in an unusual rhythm, mixed with real classic Hollywood tropes. So, our monster, our hero-monster, being messed with by some real baddies and doing everything he can to be good, but then beating the shit out of them—is a trope. That’s a classic thing. We’re skirting the line of something you’ve never seen before, or maybe you have but in a more unusual expression. And right next to that is something you know exactly how to watch. “This is where our hero takes down the bad guys. And I’m both with him and I’m not with him.” We know that and we know what to do with that. I’m hoping that all the way through the movie, that’s what I’m offering. Something new. Something in a different language. Something you’ve never seen before, but also something you have seen. So, hold on where you can hold on, and hopefully that can make you comfortable enough to go with me where it’s unusual and different.
Later, A Love Story
Maggie Gyllenhaal: I think when Frank and Dr. Euphronious bring The Bride back to life, there is an immediate connection between Frank and The Bride. But almost immediately, he’s lying to her. He says, “You were my fiancée. We were meant to get married.” He lies to her and makes up a name. He makes up a history. And that’s a pretty difficult way to start a relationship. At the same time, it’s something that I think many, many people can relate to. I think Frank is lying to her because he doesn’t believe that she’ll be with him if he tells her the truth. I think that’s often why people lie to each other. And often why people lie to people that they love. But it really messes her up. Lying to someone obliterates them, and if you’re lying about one thing, you could be lying about anything. So that’s the basis for their relationship. But despite that, there are these buzzes of connection between these two people all the way through. And they’re real and they’re deep. And I think The Bride has nothing else. She doesn’t know her name. She doesn’t know where she lives. She has no memory. She basically has no choice for a lot of the movie than to go with this fiction. And then—like in all relationships that are going to work, and I think in all good stories—there comes a point where the lie won’t work anymore and the truth has to come out. Either the truth is going to come out or it’s going to fall apart. I think their relationship is both totally classic tragedy and then, ultimately, maybe not. But I love something he says. He says, “It’s your mind that I love.” That’s hot.
Surprises
Maggie Gyllenhaal: Because I am an actress and I have a lot of experience being on the other side of this situation, I don’t want a director to have imagined my performance before I get there and then try and fit me into it, which is an experience any actor has had and it just kills the life of things. So, when we began, we had to make sure we were all on the same page, that we were all walking this very difficult tightrope of what the performance ultimately needed to be. That said, they surprised me every moment. They surprised me a hundred times a day. And then it’s my job, inside of that electric live-wire of performing that they’re doing, to just nudge them. “Oh, that tipped off the tightrope a little bit—let’s get you right back on. I got you.” In order to work that way, there are absolutely going to be tons of things that surprise you. Jessie and I knew each other so well that sometimes I would call things out to her. Mostly, I love to whisper into an actor’s ear and say a little something and not let anyone else know about it. But Jessie and I sometimes felt like we were in a fever dream and I would just yell things out to her and she’d take them in and keep going. And Christian asked me at one point, he was like, “Will you yell at me, too?” And so, I did sometimes.
Envisioning Monsters
Maggie Gyllenhaal: With Frank, I always had in my mind that yes, he’s a monster, and yes, he’s scary. I mean, if you saw somebody with those staples across their head and neck, a big broken nose and all the scars on his face, it would be painful to think about how that happened. It would probably be very alienating for that person living in the world. But I did not see him as a cartoon monster. I did not see him as wearing a mask. I saw him as real. And it didn’t early when we were developing it, and I kept pushing. “Why does he have this scar? Why does he have that scar?” We started building the tattoos. “Where did they come from?” Dr. Frankenstein was marking things in Roman numerals. A piece of his ear has a bite taken out of it. “Why? He got in a fight.” All of the real specifics of how his look happened were not initially thought about. It took a while to break that down until we found something real. And I think we did. I really don’t feel the makeup at all. I love it. The Bride was much easier. I was really interested in what would happen with the spitting up of this black stuff from the reinvigoration and how that would mark her face and lips. It was in the script, but I didn’t have a picture of it until [make-up and prosthetic designer] Nadia Stacey and Jessie and I started working together. I love that her eyelashes, eyebrows and hair turn white. I love the nod to the Bride of Frankenstein from the ‘30s, the wave. It did take work, but it was always flowing in the same direction we ended up in.
The Moviegoing Experience
Maggie Gyllenhaal: I do think it’s a trip and I do think it’s a movie that needs to be seen in a movie theater. I think the whole experience—getting to the movie theater, walking in the door, getting your popcorn, sitting down, the lights going down—it’s true. You put your seatbelt on, or not, whatever you want. It’s funny because we keep talking about the movie as offering and saying something new, but there’s something kind of classic about that. It’s two hours. You got two hours? Sit down. Turn everything off and go on the trip. It’s actually a trip to another place, and there’s no opportunity to get off once you get on. That’s just the truth. It’s like a roller coaster in that way. Once you get on, you’re on. And then you go back to your life afterward. But I hope that if you do get on and take the ride, that going back to your life afterward feels a little bit different.
MAGGIE GYLLENHAAL (Writer / Director / Producer) is an Academy Award-nominated actress, director, producer and screenwriter whose career is full of thought-provoking and groundbreaking work.
This year Gyllenhaal will release her film THE BRIDE! which she wrote, produced and directed. The film is an imaginative continuation of the classic Frankenstein story, influenced by both the 1935 film “Bride of Frankenstein” and Mary Shelley’s original masterpiece. With Warner Bros. at the helm, the film stars Jessie Buckley, Christian Bale, Annette Bening, Penélope Cruz, Peter Sarsgaard, and Jake Gyllenhaal and is set to release on March 6, 2026.
Previously, Gyllenhaal made her feature directorial debut with her adaptation of Elena Ferrante’s novel THE LOST DAUGHTER, starring Olivia Colman, Dakota Johnson, and Jessie Buckley, for which she also wrote the screenplay. The film went on to be nominated for three Academy Awards for Best Actress (Colman), Best Supporting Actress (Buckley), and Best Adapted Screenplay (Gyllenhaal). The film also won Gyllenhaal three Independent Spirit Awards (Best Feature, Best Director and Best Screenplay); four Gotham Awards (Best Feature, Bingham Ray Breakthrough Director Award, Best Screenplay, Outstanding Lead Performance for Colman); The Venice Film Festival’s “Golden Osella” Award for Best Screenplay; a Directors Guild of America Award for Outstanding Directorial Achievement in First-Time Feature Film; and a New York Film Critics Circle Award for Best First Film among many other wins and nominations. She was also named one of 2022’s Directors to Watch by both VARIETY and the Palm Springs International Film Festival.
Gyllenhaal won acclaim in 2002 for SECRETARY, starring opposite James Spader, for which she won a National Board of Review award and both Golden Globe and Independent Spirit Award nominations. She followed with Laurie Collyer’s SHERRYBABY (2006), a painful look at a young woman getting out of prison and hoping to reclaim her child, which earned her a second Golden Globe nomination. In 2009, she starred opposite Jeff Bridges in CRAZY HEART, earning her an Oscar nomination. Other notable film performances include DONNIE DARKO (2001), MONA LISA SMILE (2003), STRANGER THAN FICTION (2006), THE DARK KNIGHT (2008), NANNY MCPHEE RETURNS (2010), FRANK (2014) and THE KINDERGARTEN TEACHER (2018) among many others.
Gyllenhaal moved into television with BBC/Sundance’s THE HONOURABLE WOMAN (2014), for which she won a Golden Globe Award and received SAG and Emmy nominations. And in 2019, Gyllenhaal concluded her three-season run as the sex worker Candy who becomes a film director in the HBO drama THE DEUCE, which she also produced. Her performance earned her rave reviews, and both Golden Globe and Critics Choice Award nominations.
She’s equally at home on stage. She played Priscilla in Tony Kushner’s HOMEBODY/KABUL (2004) in both Los Angeles and at BAM (Brooklyn Academy of Music). She also starred as Yelena in UNCLE VANYA (2009) and Masha in THE THREE SISTERS (2011), both alongside her husband Peter Sarsgaard at the Classic Stage Company in New York City. She debuted on Broadway in Sam Gold’s revival of Tom Stoppard’s THE REAL THING opposite Ewan McGregor in 2014.
She also collaborated with artist Matthew Barney on the experimental film RIVER OF FUNDAMENT in 2014, and her readings of Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina and Sylvia Plath’s The Bell Jar can be heard on Audible.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Scream 7 – A Legacy Reborn for a New Era of Horror
In 1996, the rules for horror films were changed forever by Scream,the groundbreaking collaboration between legendary filmmaker Wes Craven (A Nightmare on Elm Street ) and screenwriter Kevin Williamson.
Blending spine-tingling suspense and self-aware humor, Scream revitalized the slasher genre for a new generation and launched a blockbuster franchise that would grow into one of the most influential and highest-grossing horror film series in history, collecting over $900M in global box office receipts to date.
Over the course of 30 years and six films, the property turned horror on its head with graphic gore, clever pop culture references, sly sight gags, and wicked sharp dialogue, featuring teenaged horror-film fanatics who use the genre’s conventions to try and defeat the masked serial killer Ghostface. Along the way, Ghostface has become a defining horror icon, evolving through new identities, motives, and victims, brought to life by the franchise’s ever-expanding star-studded ensembles. In Scream 7, Ghostface returns as the supervillain fans know and love.
Neve Campbell, left, and Director Kevin Williamson on the set of Paramount Pictures and Spyglass Media Group’s “Scream 7.”
This time, Williamson takes the helm of his signature creation, and, as always, no one is safe, and everyone is a suspect
Scream was the start of an unparalleled career in film and television for Williamson, who has since written screenplays for I Know What You Did Last Summer, The Faculty, and Teaching Mrs. Tingle, which was also his theatrical directorial debut, as well as creating the TV series “Dawson’s Creek” and “The Following” and co-developing “The Vampire Diaries.”
From the very beginning, Williamson fell in love with horror the same way many fans do: in a dark theater, where fear becomes a shared communal experience. “Making the first film was such a magical time,” Williamson says. “I was able to work with my hero, Wes Craven. I have loved the horror genre since I was a little kid and saw my first horror film: Halloween. I have never forgotten the excitement of the audience watching it. They were screaming at Jamie Lee Curtis, ‘Don’t drop the knife!’ And then she dropped the knife!”
Williamson and Craven famously went on to partner on two more Scream films [Scream 2 (1997) and Scream 4 (2011)] prior to Craven’s passing in 2015. Now, with Williamson directing for the first time in Scream’s 30-year history, Scream 7 brings the genre-shaping franchise back to its roots for a terrifying, blood-drenched new chapter focused on the franchise’s original protagonist, Sidney Prescott, portrayed by Neve Campbell.
Shortly after Campbell signed on to the film, she became emersed in the process, sitting down with the filmmaking team to discuss a director. They all had the same idea: Williamson. “Kevin was the obvious best choice to direct,” the actress says. “I got to ask him, which was an amazing feeling. I’ve always thought it would be a wonderful thing to have Kevin direct. He knows these characters better than anybody.”
Williamson shares, “We got on a Zoom, so she got to see me cry. The first words out of my mouth were, ‘Yes, of course I’ll do it. Yes, yes, yes!’”
Williamson’s co-writer Guy Busick says that Williamson is one of his screenwriting heroes. “When they said, ‘Don’t meet your heroes,’ they didn’t mean Kevin. Working with him on a Scream script was yet another pinch-me moment in a nonstop series of pinch-me moments since I was invited to help relaunch the franchise. I learned more by working with him than I could have dreamed. He’s a true master of the genre. It’s an experience I’ll always treasure.”
Making sure characters both returning and new were authentic to the film’s universe was a priority for him. “Kevin, Wes Craven and the casts of the first four Scream films set the bar very high in terms of their insightful, of-the-moment commentaries on pop culture, their complex whodunit mysteries and their inventive and gruesome kills,” Busick says. “I do not take the challenge lightly. Scream’s tone, which is both fun and funny while still legitimately terrifying, has been one of my biggest influences as a writer.”
“I had never really thought about directing a Scream film. I didn’t really think it was even a possibility,” Williamson says. “And now that I’ve directed it, I realized: I’ve always wanted to direct one. Sometimes you don’t know what you want until you get it. I wanted to do this with all my heart, and it was a blast. I can’t imagine a better experience.”
Williamson also shared Busick’s commitment to preserving the integrity of the franchise and honoring the foundation that Wes Craven created. “My goal with this movie was to create some very visceral moments and really scare the audience. That’s what Wes Craven would do, and we wanted to honor that,” Williamson says. “Your goal with the Scream films is to keep doing something fresh and new, but you also want to bring back the nostalgic feeling that the first film gave us. And that’s what I tried to do. To make it as thrilling and emotional as the earlier films. I tried to use everything I learned from Wes.”
An Infamous Horror Icon
Three decades of murder, mayhem, and mystery have made Ghostface instantly recognizable for generations to come, and one of the bestselling Halloween costumes in history. Part of what has made the character such an enduring villain and fearsome opponent is that, in each film, there is a different character with a different motive behind the mask. Every chapter of the story mixes enough red herrings with genuine clues to keep audiences happily guessing until the credits roll.
While slashers like Michael Myers, Jason Voorhees, and Freddy Krueger rely on the supernatural, Ghostface remains entirely human in every iteration—yet equally deadly and terrifying. Made of flesh and blood, Ghostface still seems to materialize and vanish at will, an unsettling trait that makes the killer feel almost impossible to destroy.
“We’ve played it so many different ways,” says Williamson. “Ghostface is always a trickster. You never know what you’re going to get.”
The most recent iteration of the mass killer will introduce audiences to a Ghostface unlike any that came before. This Ghostface has found more wild and brutal ways to murder his victims, taunting and manipulating them before finishing them off. Williamson carefully planned each kill for maximum impact.
“The goal is to constantly surprise the audience,” he says. “I don’t want Ghostface to just show up and kill somebody. I love a good chase scene. I want the victims to fight for their lives. I want to see Ghostface go at it with someone audiences love. Jennifer Badger, our truly great stunt coordinator, and our equally great effects team brought their best game to help me build the sequences to create the most visceral scares for the audience.”
Legacy Of Fear
Nearly three decades after the original film reshaped the horror genre, the franchise finds its way back to where it all began – reconnecting with Sidney Prescott (now Sidney Evans) and the fears that defined her world. In doing so, Scream 7 captures the excitement, the mystery, and the terror that have earned the franchise a legion of superfans, one that continues to grow with each installment. Central to that legacy is Ghostface, whose ever-evolving presence has become one of the most recognizable figures in modern horror.
“The original Scream was the first scary movie that commented on the tropes of scary movies while still being effectively scary,” says Busick. “That meta element has influenced horror filmmakers ever since in terms of trying to subvert but still honor the genre. One of its other strengths is that it’s populated with characters who are smart, likable and have emotional arcs; they’re not just ‘Victims One Through Six.’ You care about the survivors more than the killer — or killers — which was not the norm at the time the first movie came out.”
As Williamson returns to the world he helped build, he credits the genius of Craven, known as “maestro of the macabre,” for repeatedly redefining the genre and bringing new dimensions to horror. “Making Scream 7 reignited so many of the feelings I had on the set with Wes Craven through those first films,” says Williamson. “In terms of the genre, I learned what true emotional horror is from him. He would always tell me it’s not about making a ‘horror film.’ It’s not about just making something scary. You have to make it emotional or nobody will care. When I got the chance to direct this film, I was excited to jump into those shoes and take my turn.”
The emotional foundation is matched with the franchise’s signature suspense and spectacle. “It’s still got lots of jump scares and set pieces,” the director says. “We give the audience a little taste of everything. What makes the franchise unique is that there’s a little Agatha Christie in addition to someone wielding a knife. There are all sorts of scary stories, but someone with a knife in the dark is one of the scariest.” For Williamson, horror films are unique in the way that they engage an audience. “People love to be scared. You want to watch these movies with a crowd full of people and have that communal experience. You want to have people jumping and screaming. You want to be able to laugh after they scream. There’s a comfort in experiencing the audience interact with the movie. You can’t beat horror films for that.”
KEVIN WILLIAMSON (Directed by, Screenplay by, Based on Characters Created by, Executive Producer) is a writer, creator, producer and director whose unique vision and imaginative storytelling has thrilled audiences for decades, resulting in some of the most entertaining and successful television series and films of all time.
From iconic feature films to explosive hit TV series, Williamson has established himself as a major force in Hollywood for over twenty-five years. He is the creator and executive producer of the pop culture hit phenomena “Dawson’s Creek,” which launched the careers of James Van Der Beek, Katie Holmes, Joshua Jackson and Michelle Williams. Preceding his success in television, Williamson’s rise to stardom began in 1996 with the post-modern classic film Scream. Drawing on his childhood love of scary movies, Williamson created the franchise that reinvigorated the horror genre and is still thriving today. He followed this with his directorial debut Teaching Mrs. Tingle, starring Helen Mirren. A partial list of works include I Know What You Did Last Summer, The Faculty, Halloween: H2O with Jamie Lee Curtis, “Tell Me a Story,” the Fox network hit “The Following,” and the critically acclaimed series “The Vampire Diaries,” which he developed with Julie Plec and led to two spin-off series “The Originals” and “Legacies.”
Williamson executive produced the acclaimed hits Scream 5 and Scream VI. Upcoming, he sits in the director chair of the franchise he created for the first time in the seventh installment of the iconic Scream franchise, 30 years after penning the first Scream film as well as Scream 2 and Scream 4, the latter two of which he also executive produced and produced, respectively. Scream 7 features the return of Neve Campbell in the iconic role of Sidney Prescott, releasing exclusively in theaters on February 27 by Paramount Pictures and Spyglass Media Group.
Recently, Williamson signed an overall deal with Universal Television to write, develop, create and produce new series for streaming and broadcast. “The Waterfront,” a personal tale of a family in turmoil, was a Netflix global hit, sitting at #1 for a rare three weeks. His slate also includes a re-imagining of the Hitchcock classic Rear Window for Peacock and a TV adaptation of David Fincher’s 1997 hit film “The Game.”
Born in a small coastal town in North Carolina, which served as the inspiration for “Dawson’s Creek,” Williamson has been behind the scenes of a long list of films, television series and careers, creating unforgettable characters and thrilling stories that have built a wide, dedicated fan base. He resides in Los Angeles.
GUY BUSICK (Screenplay by & Story by) co-wrote Final Destination: Bloolines for New Line Cinema/Warner Bros., which was released May 16th, 2025 and grossed over $315 million at the worldwide box office. He also co-wrote the upcoming Ready or Not 2: Here I Come for Searchlight with Radio Silence directing, Project X and Vinson Films producing, which will be released March 27th 2026. He previously co-wrote with James Vanderbilt Scream (2022) and Scream VI (2023). His most recent film, Abigail, came out in April 2024 for Universal and Project X Entertainment which Radio Silence directed. Busick previously co-wrote the hit film Ready Or Not (2019) for Fox Searchlight along with R. Christopher Murphy. Busick and Murphy wrote together on series including “Castle Rock” (2019) for Hulu, WBTV and Bad Robot as well as the horror comedy “Stan Against Evil” (2016-2018) for IFC. Busick additionally co-wrote Lucky Bastards which is set up at Sony with David Sandberg attached to direct. Next up for Busick is a new version of The Howling for Andy Muschietti and a series adaptation of a Stephen King novel with Bad Robot.
JAMES VANDERBILT (Story by & Produced by) is a talented writer, director, and producer who sold his first screenplay 48 hours before graduating from the University of Southern California. It was promptly not made.
He has written and produced over twenty films, including David Fincher’s Zodiac, for which he was nominated for a Writers Guild of America Award for Best Adapted Screenplay, The Amazing Spider-Man films, the Murder Mystery films, the Ready or Not films, Basic, The Rundown, The Losers, White House Down, The House with the Clock in Its Walls, and Luca Guadagnino’s Suspiria.
In 2019, Vanderbilt co-founded the independent production and financing company Project X Entertainment (PXE), with partners William Sherak and Paul Neinstein. Since forming, they have produced Scream (2022),Scream VI, and Scream 7, all of which Vanderbilt co-wrote, Michael Bay’s Ambulance, Radio Silence’s Abigail, Bed Rest, Murder Mystery 2, Archangel, and Guy Ritchie’s Fountain of Youth, as well as the global smash hit Netflix show, “The Night Agent,” created by Shawn Ryan.
They are currently in pre-production on the next The Mummy film, starring Brendan Fraser and Rachel Weisz.
As a director, Vanderbilt’s debut film Truth, which starred Cate Blanchett and Robert Redford, was named one of the Top 10 Films of the Year by The New York Times. His second film, Nuremberg, starring Rami Malek, Russell Crowe, and Michael Shannon was longlisted for the BAFTAs and shortlisted for the Academy Awards in multiple categories.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Story Editing & Polishing
If you have completed the draft of a screenplay, stageplay, or manuscript for a novel, it is vital to find out whether or not your story works. It could mean the end of all your hard work and your career as a writer if you hand poorly written and undeveloped projects over to producers, directors, publishers or potential investors.
For professional script, screenplay, novel, and TV pilot polishing and editing, The Writing Studio transforms your copy into a captivating narrative—bringing words and images to life and creating characters that truly resonate.
A script editor is, above all, an emotional archaeologist—unearthing the missing pieces of the puzzle within a story. Editing is a collaborative process between the writer and editor, shaped by exploration and refinement. In this role, the script editor focuses on:
The thematic purpose of the story
The characters and dialogue
Structural flaws in the plotting
The narrative style
The tempo, pace, and rhythm of the story
Additionally, the editor works to refine the text, ensuring cohesion and impact throughout the script.
Scripts/ manuscripts can be submitted to be edited by Daniel E. Dercksen, the driving force behind the successful independent training initiative The Writing Studio.
In February 2024 I edited Michael Petersen’s remarkable screenplay Whitlock.
“I have submitted my feature screenplay Whitlock to Daniel E. Dercksen for an edit and polish and was surprised by the final product. With his attention to detail, Daniel cleaned up my screenplay and returned it to me free of grammatical errors, spelling and formatting mistakes. Daniel gave my screenplay the attention it deserves. My screenplay now has a smooth and enjoyable read. I am definitely happy with the professional service I received from The Writing Studio and already have a TV Pilot and a shortfilm which I will be sending his way. The edit gave my screenplay a professional edge and fighting chance.” Adv. Michael Petersen
“Shout out to Daniel Dercksen of The Writing Studio for being part of the process of getting my autobiography out. Thank you for your many hours of editing and patience while working on my book. I look forward to working again with you!” Tracy Lee
In August 2023 Daniel edited the screenplay The Calling for Mireille Shimba, and arranged a reading of her poignant screenplay at the Woman Zone in Cape Town
“I am thrilled with the excellent work Daniel has done, I am amazed with his professionalism, my screenplay turned from an ordinary screenplay to an extraordinary screenplay.. I started Daniel’s The Write Journey course in 2021, this course has given me me a different perspective and understanding on how to write a compelling story.. I have learned so much ..I feel so equipped and confident now after completing this course. I would recommend this course to everyone, especially first time writers, this course provides the necessary tools to become an excellent writer.”
“A play reading held at Woman Zone on Saturday allowed author Mireille Shimba, student of Daniel Dercksen, to get a feel for her characters and storyline. One more step on the road to this becoming a movie. Congratulations Mireille and thank you for sharing your work at our Woman’s Library.” Nancy Richards.
“Thank you Daniel Dercksen for believing in me . Thank you Nancy Richards and Woman zone CT for the amazing support “
In 2023 Daniel edited the screenplay Must Fall for Moopi Mothibeli, who is currently in the US negotiating his screenplay.
“Daniel Dercksen’s edit work on the script Must Fall was clean and very professional. My script makes for an easier read because of the layout and polish work you implemented. I am more than happy with the outcome,” says Moopi Mothibeli, who was born in Sebokeng and graduated from the Tshwane University of Technology with a theatre degree in Drama. He followed this up with a Master of Fine Arts degree from The Ohio State University.
In 2023 Daniel editeddirector and screenwriter Germain Atabe Ayum’s Silent Tears. His latest film Dark Beauty was selected by Silicon Valley African Film Festival in California, for best feature film in 2022, and nominated by Sotambe International Film Festival for best director in 2022. Atabe Ayum also wrote and directed Mzamo, a 2020 feature film now airing on Mnet – DStv, and received a silver award from International Independent Film Festival, USA, in 2020.
“I enjoyed every moment with Daniel Dercksen in the editing of my Screenplay, Silent Tears. His professional experience, passion, and quest for excellence transformed my story from a simple draft to a fully developed screenplay, ready for production. He also assisted me greatly with my Treatment and Top Sheet.” Writer-director Germain Atabe
In 2022 Daniel was fortunate to team up with Tracy Lee Swinson in editing her remarkable true story Unbreakable.
“A special thank you going out to Daniel of The Writing Studio who assisted me in editing and getting my book Unbreakable ready to submit to the publishers.”
“Today is a momentous occasion I have been signed up by Austin Macauley Publishers of London. Finally my story-Autobiography is going to published! This is a dream come true I am so grateful for all the amazing people in my life that came along on this journey with me.”
In 2021 Daniel was contracted for 8-months by the NFVF (The National Film and Video Foundation) to serve as story editor on the screenplay of Karen Van Schalkwyk’s Ren, which is currently in development.
We developed REN over the period of 2021 and what Daniel Dercksen gave to the process was a complete commitment and unwavering compassion for the story. REN is now at a stage, thanks to Daniel’s theoretical knowledge of the structure and the tools of screenwriting, where it is ready to seek production finance.
They say that a great story editor must have the following traits: excellent language and writing skills, creativity, and imagination to come up with original ideas, motivation, and belief in your work, and good marketing skills. Daniel has all of these. He has worked tirelessly to help other writers and developed his own unique stories throughout the years. His knowledge of the craft extends to music, art, and literature, and he has one of the finest minds when it comes to knowing movies from all ages. He has helped me with his uncompromising technique and his non-judgemental nature.
I could not have asked for a more thorough and professional approach to REN. Daniel gave me notes and also helped structure what needed to be done. We met our deadlines and the work was done, REN is now at a stage where I can confidently say as the writer, that I am happy with the story. It takes a great story editor to get stories where they need to be.” The journey with my screenplay editor, Daniel has been smooth sailing. In fact – it was blissful! His unique editing method – reading the script and reacting to it as if watching the movie, ensures that he: pays close attention to every factual detail and picks up any misconstruction, clarifies all fuzziness in action descriptions so that the visual image stays clear in the reader’s mind, evaluates the narrative on its level of character, story, plot, dialogue and cinematic engagement (instead of forcing the script to fit into a specific genre/structural recipe).
The journey with my screenplay editor, Daniel Dercksen (The Writing Studio) has been smooth sailing. In fact – it was blissful! His unique editing method – reading the script and reacting to it as if watching the movie, ensures that he: pays close attention to every factual detail and picks up any misconstruction, clarifies all fuzziness in action descriptions so that the visual image stays clear in the reader’s mind, evaluates the narrative on its level of character, story, plot, dialogue and cinematic engagement (instead of forcing the script to fit into a specific genre/structural recipe). The organic and creative nature of the collaborative process was very rewarding and uplifting. I strongly recommend Daniel as editor. He has the rare ability to see into the mind of the artist and from there navigate the writing of the script into a polished, seamless blueprint for an engaging film. Thanks Daniel! You rock! Libé Ferreira – Former Head of Drama department at The National School of the Arts / Former Writer, Casting Director, Acting Coach at Franz Marx Films(Screenplay: What’s In Your Suitcase, 2020)
Daniel was a most valuable and expert pair of eyes recently when I had to convert a story to a short film script. I would highly recommend him to anyone looking to polish a script to be submitted with confidence. Will most certainly turn to him again with future scripts. “Many thanks. You were definitely the right person to consult. Very happy with the final outcome.” Savyra Meyer-Lippold (Illustrator, animator, copywriter & screenwriter: https://www.savyra.com/ )
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on The Bride! – A bold, iconoclastic take on one of the world’s most compelling stories
The Bride! is a bold, gothic, and psychologically charged reimagining of Bride of Frankenstein, written, directed, and co‑produced by Maggie Gyllenhaal.
Gyllenhaal’s inspiration draws directly from the 1935 Bride of Frankenstein and, by extension, Mary Shelley’s 1818 novel Frankenstein. But rather than retelling the story, she uses it as a prism to explore autonomy, desire, creation, and the monstrous feminine. The film also incorporates visual and tonal homages to early cinema, including Fritz Lang’s Metropolis, whose iconic imagery influenced the design and performance of the Bride. This intertextual lineage positions the film not as a remake but as a resurrection—an act of cinematic reanimation that mirrors the narrative itself.
The significance of The Bride! lies in its fusion of genre and social commentary
Set in 1930s Chicago, the film reframes the monster myth within a world of corruption, police scrutiny, and burgeoning social upheaval. Gyllenhaal uses the era’s tensions—industrial expansion, gender politics, and the rise of radical movements—to interrogate what it means to create life, to be created, and to resist the forces that seek to control that creation. The Bride becomes not merely a companion but a catalyst: a figure whose existence destabilizes the social order. The film’s blend of dark romance, crime, psychological drama, and monster horror positions it within a hybrid genre space, allowing it to speak to contemporary anxieties through the lens of a mythic past.
The cast deepens this significance.
Jessie Buckley plays Ida/The Bride/Mary Shelley, a triple‑layered role that blurs creator and creation. Christian Bale embodies Frank, the Creature, with the intensity and vulnerability that have defined his career. Annette Bening appears as Dr. Euphronius, the scientist enlisted to help create the Bride, while Jake Gyllenhaal plays Ronnie Reed, and Penélope Cruz portrays Myrna Mallow. Peter Sarsgaard joins as Detective Jake Wiles, adding a noir‑inflected tension to the narrative.
“One of my favourite things about being a director is figuring out what language you have to speak to each actor in. And yet with Jessie, I just talked to her like I talked to myself. It was completely pure. So, I had to keep myself from writing this part for her, because I thought if I write it for her, maybe I’ll limit what it could be. I just tried to think of no one and imagine anything. Then I wrote it and I was like, “Okay, it’s only Jessie.” And I still don’t know who else could have played this part. I think it’s to do with her wisdom in knowing that every human being holds the whole spectrum of feelings, so fierce and powerful, and right next to that is the deepest vulnerability.” Maggie Gyllenhaal
“Totally surprised. Loved the script. This was really original. A great radical punk rock take on this. It made me think of Rage Against the Machine “Killing In The Name”—”Fuck you, I won’t do what you tell me.” And it was exciting as hell. I couldn’t put it down. Hats off to the people who were willing to take a big swing with it, and that was Warner Bros. But a test for me is always, “Can I ignore something? Can I forget about it? Can I throw it away?” And it just really lingered with me. It had such great fiery, electric moments throughout it. I just couldn’t forget about it,” says Christian Bale
A lonely “Frank” (Christian Bale) travels to 1930s Chicago to ask groundbreaking scientist Dr. Euphronious (Annette Bening) to create a companion for him. The two revive a murdered young woman and The Bride (Jessie Buckley) is born. What ensues is beyond what either of them imagined: Murder! Possession! A radical cultural movement! And outlaw lovers in a wild and combustible romance!
Gyllenhaal’s approach reframes the Bride as a figure of agency rather than an object of creation
The film’s Chicago setting, with its smoky jazz clubs, industrial shadows, and political unrest, becomes a crucible for transformation. The Bride’s emergence destabilises not only the Creature’s longing but the entire social fabric. In this sense, the film becomes a meditation on creation as revolution: the act of bringing something new into the world inevitably threatens the old world’s order.
“I have no idea how to do this. That was my first reaction after I read it. Literally—I think the first thing I texted Maggie after I read it was that it was like being electrocuted. You didn’t know where the source was coming from, I was obsessed but I had to keep putting it down. It totally rattled me in a way that was provocative and alive, and a truly original wild voice that I think I had been looking to feel and read. I had never read anything like that before. I needed to sit down and give it space, leave the possibility of it take shape over time as the potential was epic. For creation, for life, for revolution, for love.. And I remember feeling equally terrified and naked and thrilled and provoked and awoken by that possibility. Maybe the reason why Frankenstein is deemed a monster in Mary Shelley’s book is because he’s created and then locked away, a creature who’s loneliness becomes in turn monstrous. I guess this script is about loneliness in some way, and about the parts of ourselves and the parts of humanity and the world that we try to lock away, because we’re too scared of the things that it might bring out in us. Frankenstein’s monster says to his creator, “You made me and now you’re trying to kill me by locking me away,” and all he ever wanted was a companion. And I guess this story takes us on a journey of the monster in us all, and how we need our monsters. Need to shake hands with the monstrous and learn to love that part. It’s a love story. And it’s a Bonnie and Clyde story. It’s the most monstrous punk love story that has ever existed.” Jessie Buckley:
Thematically, The Bride! resonates with questions of identity, autonomy, and the body as a site of power
The Bride’s resurrection is both a violation and a liberation. Her body is stitched together by men, yet she refuses to be defined by them. Her romance—fiery, dangerous, and unpredictable—becomes a metaphor for the uncontrollable nature of desire and the impossibility of containing what one creates. The film’s R‑rating for violence, sexuality, and language underscores its commitment to exploring these themes without restraint.
The film’s significance also lies in its place within contemporary cinema
As studios increasingly revisit classic properties, The Bride! stands out for its auteur‑driven vision. Gyllenhaal’s reinterpretation is not nostalgic but insurgent. She uses the familiar myth to interrogate gendered power, the ethics of creation, and the monstrous as a site of liberation. The Bride becomes a symbol of resistance—an embodiment of the fear and fascination that surround women who refuse to be controlled.
In its narrative, The Bride! becomes a story of unintended consequences
The Creature’s longing for companionship leads to a creation that exceeds all expectations. The Bride’s existence becomes a spark that ignites the city. The scientists’ attempt to control life results in a force that challenges the very structures of power. This dynamic echoes Shelley’s original themes while expanding them into new territory.
The Bride! reclaims a classic myth for a new era. It honours its lineage while daring to reinvent it. It transforms the Bride from a silent, tragic figure into a force of agency and upheaval. It uses horror not as spectacle but as metaphor. And it positions Maggie Gyllenhaal as a filmmaker unafraid to confront the monstrous truths that lie beneath creation, desire, and power.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Die My Love – A Haunting Vision of Motherhood and Madness
Scottish writer-director Lynne Ramsay returns to feature filmmaking with Die My Love, inspired by Ariana Harwicz’s 2012 novel of the same name. The film explores postpartum depression, isolation, and the unravelling of identity.
This psychological drama confronts the raw, unvarnished realities of motherhood, mental illness, and the fragility of human relationships.
Directed by Lynne Ramsay, whose previous films, such as We Need to Talk About Kevin and You Were Never Really Here established her as a master of psychological intensity, the project was co-written by Ramsay, Enda Walsh, and Alice Birch, two writers known for crafting emotionally charged, fragmented narratives.
“At the heart of this story is the complexity of love and how it can change and transform over time. I aimed to keep it grounded, human, spontaneous and funny at times, capturing the moments that feel small but carry a lot of weight. This film is for anyone who’s ever been in a relationship – there’s heartbreak and beauty in vulnerability,” says Lynne Ramsay.
The film is based on the 2012 novel by Argentine author Ariana Harwicz, a work celebrated for its uncompromising portrayal of a woman’s descent into madness amid the suffocating confines of domestic life.
The inspiration for the film lies in Harwicz’s novel, which was itself a visceral exploration of postpartum depression and the alienation of women trapped in traditional roles. Ramsay, drawn to the novel’s uncompromising voice, sought to translate its fragmented, feverish prose into a cinematic language that could capture both the claustrophobia of rural isolation and the inner chaos of its protagonist.
Adaptation process
“If there’s an interesting concept in a book, I’ll springboard off that rather than stick super-close to the source material. It’s quite a surreal book. You didn’t know what was real or unreal, and it jumps from different narrators. Grace was like a wild beast in it, and there was something interesting in how irreverent and unapologetic the character was––I started from there. It was such a hard adaptation, and I’ve already done that with [We Need to Talk About] Kevin. Kevin was wild to adapt because it was very literary and didn’t present itself as a film necessarily––it was in the form of letters. So I took my time to find my way into it.
I was working on a different script at the time, a project called Stone Mattress by Margaret Atwood, which I’m still hoping gets made. Enda Walsh and I talked for about three or four weeks, and he went off and did a draft. I took the ball from there. Alice Birch got involved because we only had four weeks prep for the movie, and I had to change things and just didn’t have the time. There was so much to do––it was the least prep I’ve ever had. I would bounce ideas off her, and she would get it down on paper. Normally, I’ve either just co-wrote or done it myself. It just was the nature of this one.”
Lynne Ramsay discusses a scene with cinematographer Seamus McGarvey.
The film stars Jennifer Lawrence as Grace, a young mother who relocates with her husband Jackson (played by Robert Pattinson) to rural Montana after inheriting a family home. What begins as a seemingly idyllic retreat quickly spirals into a nightmare of loneliness, betrayal, and psychological collapse. Grace’s struggle with postpartum depression and psychosis becomes the central axis of the narrative, a lens through which Ramsay examines the fragility of identity and the destructive potential of silence and neglect.
The significance of Die My Love lies in its willingness to confront themes that mainstream cinema often avoids
Postpartum depression, though a common condition, is rarely depicted with such unflinching honesty. Ramsay’s direction refuses sentimentality, instead immersing the audience in Grace’s fractured perspective. The film’s cinematography, crafted by Seamus McGarvey, uses stark contrasts of light and shadow to mirror Grace’s oscillation between fleeting moments of joy and overwhelming despair. The editing by Toni Froschhammer further enhances the disorienting effect, fragmenting time and memory to reflect Grace’s unstable mental state. The score, composed by George Vjestica and Raife Burchell, underscores the tension with haunting, minimalist motifs that echo the protagonist’s inner turmoil.
Beyond its artistic achievements, Die My Love carries cultural significance as part of a broader movement in cinema toward confronting mental health with honesty and nuance.
In a world where motherhood is often idealised, the film challenges audiences to acknowledge the darker realities that many women face. It also situates these struggles within a broader social context: the isolation of rural life, the pressures of marital fidelity, and the generational weight of family legacies. By weaving these threads together, Ramsay creates a narrative that is both deeply personal and universally resonant.
Given its critical acclaim and cultural relevance, the film is expected to remain a staple of discussions around contemporary psychological drama for years to come.
Die My Love is not merely a film but a confrontation—a mirror held up to the unspoken realities of motherhood and mental illness
Inspired by Ariana Harwicz’s incendiary novel, shaped by Lynne Ramsay’s uncompromising vision, and brought to life through Jennifer Lawrence’s fearless performance, it is a work that demands engagement, reflection, and empathy. Its significance lies not only in its artistry but in its refusal to look away from pain, offering audiences a rare chance to witness the raw edges of human experience.
For those willing to enter its world, Die My Love is available to stream on Mubi’s platform, where its haunting resonance continues to challenge and inspire.
Lynne Ramsay and Jennifer Lawrence during the filming of Die My Love.
Lynne Ramsay – Director and Screenwriter
Lynne Ramsay’s latest film is DIE MY LOVE (2025) based on the novel by Ariana Harwicz, starring Jennifer Lawrence, Robert Pattinson, Sissy Spacek and Lakeith Stanfield; her previous work consists of RATCATCHER (1999), Cannes 1999 Un Certain Regard, BAFTA winner Most Promising Newcomer; MORVERN CALLAR (2002), starring Samantha Morton, Cannes 2022 multiple award winner, BIFA nominee for Best Director and Best Screenplay; WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT KEVIN (2011) starring Tilda Swinton, nominated for Cannes 2011 Palme d’Or, BIFA winner for Best Director, BAFTA nominated for Best Director; SWIMMER (2012), BAFTA winner for Best Short Film; YOU WERE NEVER REALLY HERE (2017) starring Joaquin Phoenix, Cannes 2017 winner for Best Screenplay and Best Actor, BAFTA nominated for Best British Film; BRIGITTE (2019), part of Miu Miu’s Women’s Tales Series, Venice Film Festival 2019. Projects in Development: STONE MATTRESS, based on the Margaret Atwood short story, Julianne Moore attached to star; HIERARCHIES, LuckyChap producing; POLARIS, Joaquin Phoenix and Rooney Mara producing.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Cold Storage – A bold fusion of comedy, horror, and science‑fiction
Cold Storage is many thrilling things in one singularly entertaining package. It’s a ticking-clock science-fiction epic directed by the award-winning Jonny Campbell, that is based on terrifying science fact and created by an award-winning screenwriter – David Koepp – with considerable form in that genre, as the man who previously adapted Jurassic Park.
As a director, Jonny Campbell recently helped resurrect Dracula to global acclaim, and he here delivers another delicious genre fusion, one this time produced by Gavin Polone, of Zombieland fame. As audiences are about to discover, credentials don’t get any more suited to what is soon to unfold, to gruesome and hilarious effect.
The film they’ve unleashed simultaneously delivers a riot of inventive body horror and a flirtatiously budding romance between two of the hottest stars in the industry today. And is loaded with whip-smart dialogue, explosive set-pieces, a murderous mutated cat called Mr. Scroggins and Vanessa Redgrave – yes, that Vanessa Redgrave – packing some serious heat.
“This extraordinarily contagious fungus is brought back from Space, then put underground by the government and forgotten about,” explains Koepp of the plot. “This is the story of the night, two decades later, that a couple of security guards find it in a storage facility [that has been built on top of the old government facility] and it starts to wreak havoc.”
When a highly contagious, mutating fungus escapes a sealed facility, two young employees, joined by a grizzled bioterror operative, must survive the wildest night shift ever to save humanity from extinction, as the microorganism spreads and destroys everything in its path. Starring Joe Keery (Stranger Things), Georgina Campbell (Barbarian), and Liam Neeson (Naked Gun). From the producer of Zombieland and the screenwriter of Jurassic Park, Spider-Man, and Mission: Impossible, COLD STORAGE is an action-packed thrill ride and pure popcorn fun.
In Jonny Campbell, Polone has found himself working alongside another director with a distinctive vision and a flair for the macabre and mischievous. “Gavin and David had seen Dracula and liked the tone of horror, comedy and gore that we’d created in that,” Jonny Campbell says.
“Cold Storage has an irreverence that’s in the same ballpark. And it has an atmosphere and style that I found terrifically rewarding. Everyone sets out to do something unique, but with this, I really think we have. I’ve always been attracted to the unpredictable and what we’ve achieved has a sheer sense of fun to it that evolves organically.”
Polone, meanwhile, has a strong and successful history with Koepp, having produced three of his films as a director: Koepp’s Stephen King adaptation Secret Window, Premium Rush, in which Joseph Gordon-Levitt’s bike messenger navigated the madness of Koepp’s beloved Manhattan, and the brutally effective ghost picture Stir of Echoes. The producer has also long had a passion for partnering with quality directors and their gripping take on genre stories, as he did with the likes of David Fincher on Panic Room and Ivan Reitman in My Super Ex-Girlfriend.
More than anything, according to its stars, Joe Keery, who played the beloved Steve Harrington in Stranger Things and has since been a standout in the likes of Fargo and Free Guy, and Georgina Campbell, who broke out in the likes of Barbarian and Bird Box: Barcelona, COLD STORAGE represents a uniquely enticing proposition. “It is, I think, a perfect date night movie. A Friday night date night movie,” Keery smiles of the genuine “roller coaster” he promises it will take audiences on. “Maybe the weirdest date night movie ever. Because it is a gross, romantic, hilarious, comedy-horror-thriller. People fall in love and people explode.”
Georgina Campbell grins at Keery’s description, in total agreement. “This is epic,” she says. “It’s really pretty great. We play two people whose desire to keep one-upping each other takes them further and further into God knows what. They uncover a story with some serious stakes.”
Like some of Koepp’s previous high-concept hits, this equally jaw-dropping story takes something rooted in the real world and fashions it into the central conceit of an action-packed, high-concept Hollywood event.
In Steven Spielberg’s prehistoric romp, that concept took the form of dinosaur DNA being unleashed into the modern day. Jonny Campbell’s Cold Storage, which is singularly suited to his multi-genre stylings, having also helmed everything from Westworld to Doctor Who, boasts a threat that is considerably smaller, but even deadlier.
“The premise of Cold Storage is that we learn that a scientific experiment in Space has gone wrong and a parasitic fungus has come back to Earth. It falls upon Liam Neeson’s grizzled bioterror operative and two regular night shift workers [Keery’s Teacake and Georgina Campbell’s Naomi], to save Mankind,” the director says. “It’s called Cold Storage because 20 years ago or so, the military stored this substance deep in an old mine facility, to do research on it. And with climate change and things warming up, this specimen, this new species, buried underground and forgotten about, escapes. It has been, if you like, hibernating – and it comes to life and starts to spread.”
And if all that sounds a little far-fetched, consider this: Koepp didn’t make it up. At least, not entirely. “In some ways this is similar in tone to Jurassic Park, in that the science is very well grounded and very well researched,” says the acclaimed screenwriter, who has here adapted his novel of the same name, which was published to rave reviews in 2019. “I’ve always loved stories that are based in real science – everything that flows from the premise is therefore more believable. I’m drawn to things that are funny at times, horrifying at others, but the real-world premise is still key. On Cold Storage [when I was writing the screenplay], I had the advantage of quite a bit of my own research, from my novel. Knowing exactly when to depart from reality and into fiction, for the sake of your story, is the crucial part.”
Writing The Story
When it came to writing that source novel, Koepp started with a complex manifesto: “I envisioned a story that was equal parts science, horror, humour, and was centred around some very real human characters,” Koepp says. What he didn’t start with was a set plan as to what medium the story would ultimately play out in. Koepp may have wanted to write a novel “for years”, but Cold Storage in fact began its life as a movie concept.
“But for some reason I challenged myself to write 10 pages of prose first, just as a way to get to know the characters a bit,” Koepp remembers. “And after three pages, I thought, ‘Oh, this could be a short story.’ After 30, I thought, ‘Oh, it’s a novela.’ And after a hundred pages, I had to admit, ‘This is a novel.’ It was an absolute joy to write.”
When it came to concocting the story, Koepp was inspired by three things: a real-world interstellar disaster, a man he saw on the street one day, and a faulty smoke alarm.
The interstellar disaster was burned into his imagination all the way back on July 11, 1979, the defining day that Skylab crashed back down into our southern hemisphere. NASA’s first space station – and the largest spacecraft ever to fall back to Earth – had been sat vacant since its last crew headed for home in February 1974, leaving the place ready for a follow-up team that was ultimately never sent.
When, thanks to a mix of the Sun’s increased radiation and declining air molecules, Skylab’s orientation changed, it was dragged back down into the Earth’s atmosphere. The spacecraft tore apart over the Indian Ocean and debris from its vast carcass was spread across the 150 kilometres of sparsely populated Western Australia lying down below.
“Our opening [sequence] is based on those real events. Kiwirrkurra is a real place,” says Jonny Campbell of the most remote community in Australia, that sits some 700km west of Alice Springs and is the location for Cold Storage’s outback-set prologue, in which the intergalactic fungus first drops to Earth and Neeson’s Robert Quinn, alongside his trusted partner, Trinny Romano (Lesley Manville), are sent out to investigate. “When bits of the Skylab fuselage fell [in the real world], people put them outside their houses and tried to make museums out of it, to earn money from tourists,” Jonny Campbell continues. “That is a good starting point for a story… What if something had infiltrated that debris on the way down?”
The man, meanwhile, was a stranger that Koepp observed one morning, going about his day-to-day business. “One of the many reasons I love living in New York is its chance street encounters. You’re immediately thrust into the life of someone unlike you, and if you take a moment to think about them, a whole story might suggest itself,” Koepp says. “In this case, I saw this guy in his mid-twenties, walking down the street, wearing a security guard outfit, and it was a sweltering August morning. He looked, to me, like he was a man on his way home from a job he hated. Who can’t relate to that?” the screenwriter and producer remembers with a smile. “And I thought, ‘I want to make that guy the hero of a movie.’ I love, and I think we all do, the everyman and everywoman character, that is in an extraordinary, extreme situation. [As an audience] we can invest in that situation quickly. That is my absolute favourite kind of movie.”
For Jonny Campbell, the attraction to direct lay in telling a story that would appeal to fans of both of those aspects.
“To find something like that is rare,” he says. “Something that will deliver on multiple levels. As a director, it lets you flex two creative muscles.” Ironically, when it came to Koepp, the process of bringing it to the screen would see him adapting himself for the first time in his career.
Ultimately, Koepp delighted in the debut opportunity, jumping at the chance to visualise what had so far only existed in his mind and on the page. “This is a story I’ve been excited about for several years, since I started the book. It’s a fast-paced science-fiction thriller, which has always been one of my loves,” Koepp says, noting that John Carpenter’s The Thing, with which Cold Storage shares its themes of ordinary folk facing an extra-terrestrial threat, remains one of his favourite ever movies.
And then, of course, was how well his novel had been received in the first place, embraced across the world – it has now been translated into no less than 15 languages – for its distinctly Koeppian fusion of the fictional and the factual.
“One of the best reactions I got when the book came out was the number of people who came forward to say, ‘Wait, can this really happen?’” Koepp smiles. “To which I would say, ‘Yes. We are one small mutation away from this being able to really happen.’ The real scientific basis of the story makes it a better story. It’s a great hook.”
The ensuing film harkens back delightfully to everything from those classic ‘80s John Carpenters to 1978’s Invasion of the Body Snatchers and 1955’s The Quatermass Xperiment – Ted Kotcheff’s 1971 cult classic Wake in Fright was also a guiding light, say its filmmakers – to modern genre fusions like Tremors, Shaun of the Dead and Men In Black.
Adapting the Novel
“When it came time to adapt this story as a screenplay, I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I’d had a movie structure in the back of my mind the entire time I was writing the book,” Koepp chuckles. “Thirty years of screenwriting habits don’t just disappear!”
Koepp’s ability to balance tension, character and spectacle saw Keery devour his screenplay in record time, even for him. “My barometer generally for reading a script is, ‘How quickly can I read this thing?’ Or, ‘How many cups of tea do I have to drink in between, getting up and getting down, and reading this thing?’ And this was one you just read,” he grins.
“One of the reasons I was attracted to this script was because it’s so streamlined and has a lot of different genres embedded in it. It’s a character piece but surrounded by this crazy situation. You look at all the stuff David has done, and his track record is unbelievable. With this, the proof is in the pudding. I read it in about 20 minutes!”
It’s for myriad reasons, its makers maintain, that COLD STORAGE is an essential big screen experience. There is, of course, the ‘first date factor’ that Keery speaks so enthusiastically about, and that Jonny Campbell also echoes. “It’s a great first date experience because there’s the frisson of these young people who fall for one another. I think that will resonate with people going on a first date together,” the director says.
But, equally, this is a story, Jonny Campbell continues, that everyone will be able to gel with, captivated by its off-the-wall dialogue, the naturalistic reactions of its characters and the distinctly unnatural foe they find themselves facing.
“It shares DNA with classic sci-fi but also isn’t treading old ground. This is reaching into new territory, with a story that hooks you instantly and runs away with you,” the director says. “Hold your breath because it has a momentum of its own. This is a world that goes from the microscopic to the epic. An extreme, escapist classic.”
Over his career, Jonny Campbell has been the architect of a wide spectrum of groundbreaking and high-profile television drama. Campbell’s opening film in the BBC/Netflix DRACULA adaptation was critically acclaimed as was his Bafta-nominated 6-part comedy thriller AM I BEING UNREASONABLE? Before that, his 6-part spy thriller INFORMER (BBC/Amazon) starring Paddy Considine, Bel Powley and newcomer Nabhaan Rizwan was also Bafta-nominated for Best Series. He helmed Peter Kay’s classic comedy PHOENIX NIGHTS and ASHES TO ASHES and worked on the original series of Paul Abbott’s SHAMELESS as well as acclaimed episodes of the spy drama SPOOKS (MI-5) starring Matthew Macfadyen. He directed one of the DOCTOR WHO ‘fans’ favourite-ever episodes: ‘Vincent and the Doctor’ penned by Richard Curtis and nominated for many awards including a Hugo and the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America Bradbury award. He then captured the nation’s hearts with TV bio-pic ERIC AND ERNIE, garnering 5 BAFTA nominations and 2 wins for Best Actor and Writer as well as the RTS and Press Guild awards for Best Single Film. After winning a further 2 BAFTAs for cult hit zombie drama IN THE FLESH (Best Mini Series & Writer), Jonny directed the adaptation of JK Rowling’s THE CASUAL VACANCY for BBC1/HBO, ´Contrapasso’ in Season 1 of WESTWORLD (HBO) and Peter Moffat’s THE LAST POST. His debut feature film, the Warner Brothers/Ealing Studios ALIEN AUTOPSY was selected for the AFI Fest in Los Angeles. Before embarking on his directing career, Jonny graduated in French & German and worked on documentaries at Granada Television in Manchester.
David Koepp has written or co-written the screenplays for more than thirty films, including APARTMENT ZERO, BAD INFLUENCE, DEATH BECOMES HER, CARLITO’S WAY, JURASSIC PARK, THE PAPER, MISSION: IMPOSSIBLE, THE LOST WORLD: JURASSIC PARK, SNAKE EYES, PANIC ROOM, SPIDER-MAN, WAR OF THE WORLDS, INDIANA JONES AND THE KINGDOM OF THE CRYSTAL SKULL, ANGELS & DEMONS, INFERNO, KIMI,PRESENCE, BLACK BAG, and JURASSIC WORLD REBIRTH. His second novel, AURORA, was published by HarperCollins in 2022. His story YARD WORK, narrated by Kevin Bacon, was released by Audible Originals in 2020. As a director, his work includes the films THE TRIGGER EFFECT, STIR OF ECHOES, SECRET WINDOW, GHOST TOWN, PREMIUM RUSH, and YOU SHOULD HAVE LEFT. GHOST TOWN and PREMIUM RUSH were co-written with the enigmatic John Kamps. He was born in Pewaukee, Wisconsin and graduated from UCLA’s film school in 1986. He lives in New York City with his wife and children.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Actor Taylor Sheridan talks about writing the screenplay for Hell Or High Water
”I always write the movie that I want to go see, and just assume someone else will want to go see it, too. It’s got to be saying what you want to say the way you want to say it,” says Taylor Sheridan, who made the jump to screenwriter penning Sicario, and now Hell or High Water, the second in a proposed trilogy, once again explores the artificial borders humans construct and the ramifications when these borders begin to crumble away.
Taylor Sheridan is a famous actor and filmmaker who is best known for writing the screenplay for Sicario (2015) and Hell or High Water (2016) — for which he received an Academy Award nomination for Best Original Screenplay. He became a Paramount icon in 2018 when he launched Yellowstone, beginning his tenure as a creator and showrunner. The story of Yellowstone is based on an American family guarding their land since the Civil War. It’s got that classic vibe, like a king defending his kingdom from outsiders.
In Hell or High Water, the border isn’t between Mexico and the U.S. but within America itself – exploring the poverty-stricken ‘American West’ as Capitalist forces alter the fabric of life there.
Ben Foster and Chris Pine star as bank-robbing brothers, holding-up the very banks that are threatening to take away their land. On their trail, two Texas Marshalls (Jeff Bridges & Gil Birmingham) investigate the robberies, seeking to bring the culprits to justice.
Hell or High Water has far more on its mind than a simple outlaws-versus-cops morality tale. The antagonists in Hell or High Water aren’t even the cops or outlaws, but the corrupt faceless institutions (capitalist and governmental) that control them. The film examines the hopelessness Pine & Bridges face when up against cold bureaucracy, one forced into breaking the law, the other resigned to uphold it.
Screenwriter Taylor Sheridan and actor Jeff Bridges during the filming of Hell or High Water
Sheridan never studied writing or went to film school. He learned how to write screenplays from being an actor
Taylor Sheridan made an impact as a TV actor on series like “CSI,” “Sons of Anarchy,” and “Veronica Mars.” “I’ve been in some bad TV shows, and suffered through so much poor writing,” he said, “that when I had the opportunity to work on any good writing, it stuck with me. So I pulled up good and bad scripts and compared them and figured out why the good ones stood out and what shortcuts people were required to take in television.”
As a kid, Taylor Sheridan figured he’d be a lawman. His family was full of them, the most famous being former deputy U.S. marshal Parnell McNamara, who graced the cover of this magazine eighteen years ago. McNamara worked out of Waco, not far from the Sheridan family’s Bosque County property, and young Taylor saw him as a role model.
“I thought I’d do something like that: go out during the day hunting bad guys and come home at night to the ranch.” Instead, he wound up playing a cop on TV. Sheridan’s childhood plans took a tumble when his parents divorced in 1991 and had to sell the ranch.
He went off to college in San Marcos, where he admits he was a “miserable student,” majoring in theater “because it sounded like fun and the girls were pretty.” The scout bought him a plane ticket to Chicago for an audition. “I’d never been on a plane before. I cashed the ticket in, which you could still do at the time, and drove on up.” After some commercials, he started getting one-off TV gigs and, eventually, a recurring part in Sons of Anarchy, as deputy chief of police David Hale. He had the role for two seasons before being killed off in the third season’s debut. By then, he was ready to get on the other side of the camera.
Most actors who write a screenplay do it because they’re unhappy with the roles they’ve been getting. But Sheridan had no desire to star in the movies he was writing. “I just lost interest in performing,” he explains.
He wrote three scripts in quick succession. One of them, Sicario, an ambitious drug-trade thriller, was made into a movie last year, Hell or High Water.
Hell or High Water is the result of that increasingly rare invention: an original screenplay
Sheridan, a Texas-born former actor who, in the tradition of “The Last Picture Show” and “Hud” author Larry McMurtry (another Texan whose stories fueled some great Hollywood movies), set his story in the Lone Star State.
Sheridan wrote Hell or High Water after his first script, “Sicario,” but “Hell or High Water” sold first. “Sicario” was “toxic,” he said; among other things, it had a female lead.
Sheridan sees both films as part of a trilogy of “the modern-day American frontier,” he said, “about how much has changed in 100 years, and how much things haven’t. What are the consequences of decisions and actions that are a century old and today? I was exploring the death of a way of life, and the acute consequences of the mortgage crisis in East Texas.”
Shortly after the bottom fell out during the debt crisis, Sheridan was visiting McMurtry’s hometown of Archer City. “The towns physically felt abandoned,” he said. “‘Someone should rob this place blind,’ I said. That’s where I got idea for the bank robbers.”
And Sheridan had no intention of writing a genre western. “It takes place in rural west Texas,” he said. “People in Texas wear cowboy hats, they’re good at keeping the sun off your neck and face. You set something in modern-day Texas, which is so identifiable as the old west, and everyone’s wearing guns, so it looks like it’s going to be by default partially considered a western.”
Actually, he set out to make a “buddy road film which was also a heist thriller, with elements of the inevitable showdown of a western with some of the real consequences of the flawed characters of a real drama,” he said. “I wanted it to feel real. I didn’t want the movie to end and for everyone to go home and forget about it. For me, the greatest thing a movie can do is rivet you while you’re watching, but also give you something to chew on for days and weeks after you’ve seen it. And give you ideas to think about. And maybe show you a bit of yourself you really like or don’t like, and maybe you’re going to effect a little change without the burden of having to experience the lesson.”
Among Sheridan’s primary influences, besides McMurtry, was Peter Berg’s “Friday Night Lights.” “He accurately captured the landscape and the mood of the people of that area,” said Sheridan, who wrote “Hell or High Water” for Berg to direct. He got the script to him and eventually they met. “He sat down with me: ‘Let’s go make it.’ He took it out and found a home for it (Sidney Kimmel Entertainment). Ultimately, he had other obligations and we went looking for a director.”
It took three years to find director David Mackenzie, whose violent prison film “Starred Up” Sheridan admired for its rough authenticity. “That was the most important thing,” he said. “If the film was stylized, it would minimize the impact emotionally of the story.”
Which is how “Sicario” ended up coming out first. In both films, “the characters are fiction, but the landscape and the lives the characters are navigating are real,”said Sheridan. “The only fiction is the actual mechanics of the stories and the names of the characters.”
Sheridan wanted the audience to root for bank robbers Toby (Pine) and Tanner (Foster) “in spite of what they are doing,” which is why the script keeps their motivations obscure for so long. “If you know why they’re doing it from beginning, that they have noble reasons, that would make Marcus (Bridges) the villain. I wanted you to fall in love with these boys and then learn what they’re doing, so you are rooting for Marcus and Alberto (Gil Birmingham) as well. So when you see the inevitable conclusion, you don’t mind if the cars crash together.”
He feels no need to apologize for this being a movie that’s only about men. “Exploring how men relate to men is what this is about,” Sheridan said. “It’s about how emotionally dishonest they can be to themselves and each other and how difficult it is to show someone affection and articulate that. Toby and his brother, all they have is each other. And Marcus has to express his relationship with Alberto through insults and superficial, racist means of expression.”
While Sheridan said Mackenzie directed the movie he wrote, “David was able to find ways to visually riff on the themes with some incredible montages and angles, to expand the sense of loneliness and isolation,” he said. “David created a movie that feels like it was shot in 1973.”
Sheridan is writing a remake of the French film “Disorder” for Sony. And yes, he will keep trying to “somehow entertain and enlighten. It’s a lot easier to do one of the two. None of it is easy. It’s easier to go in with the goal of either entertaining, or enlightening. But to try and do both is really hard.”
In the following interview with Sheridan at a press conference, the screenwriter discusses the socio, political and existential themes at the heart of Hell or High Water
What led you into screenwriting?
As an actor I was on a TV series, and I had been on it for a couple of years. We were in the process of re-negotiating, and I had one idea of what I was worth and they had an idea that was vastly different.My wife was pregnant, and I was doing the math and I was realizing that I couldn’t be living in a two-bedroom apartment in Hollywood for the rest of my days. I didn’t want to raise my kid there. I had also reached the point where I was really tired of telling other people’s stories and I wanted to tell my own. I quit the show, and sold just about everything I owned and sat down and wrote Sicario.
Both Sicario and Hell or High Water are gritty stories with gray areas of good and bad. What makes you want to tell those types of stories? What genre are these films considered?
I don’t know if I’ve ever met anyone that’s purely good or purely evil, myself. I think most of us live with some varying degrees between the two. To me, a purely good individual or purely bad individual, that’s a comic book, that’s a fantasy and I don’t do fantasy. I really want to reflect the world as I see it and play with the notion of “Who am I rooting for?” I think it’s a bit of a last frontier.
Everyone’s seen so many movies, the audience is so educated, and having been an actor for so long, you hand me any five pages from any script and I’ll tell you what the whole story’s about. I just really wanted to demolish the notion of “Who am I rooting for?” I wanted to really challenge the audience. Sometimes they like the guys who aren’t so good; sometimes they’re really frustrated with the guy who is good; and sometimes the clear hero says or does some pretty bad things.
I spent a lot of time doing really unimportant work as an actor, it was important when I started writing that I obviously make it entertaining or no one is going to go see it – but to really make you think, that is my goal.
These movies resemble a Cormac McCarthy novel or a Coen Brothers film. What are some of your influences when writing, through literature or other films?
Well, Coen and McCarthy are massive influences on me. The novelists have influenced me the most. Larry McMurtry’s (Lonesome Dove, Streets of Laredo) gift was creating these incredibly well-defined characters in a really brief period of time. Cormac McCarthy does the same thing. He is so sparing with writing and there such a desolate eloquence to it and he’s got such a gift and talent for it.
What are the movies that you watch over and over, year after year?
The Insider is one of my favorite films. The screenplay was sensational, the acting is incredible, the simplicity of some of the camerawork and yet the unusual angles they chose to enhance a sense of mood and a sense of shifting power between characters. And it’s so subtle. That’s Michael Mann.
I think Unforgiven is another one where he took the genre and just demolished it to the point that it looked like no one would ever make a Western again. Again, simplicity, the way with which that was achieved.
Those are two films that I go back to a lot.
In what ways has your acting shaped the films? Does it change the way you write characters?
Absolutely. I spent my life as an actor, mostly on television, guest starring on this and recurring on that. When you do that on episodic television, you’re just plot-loading, “They went that-away!” That’s your job.
With an almost teenage rebellious nature in me, there’s almost no plot in my films. I try and come up with an extremely simple plot so I don’t have to explain it. This way, I can really focus on making the journey to get there rich and reflective and focus on the characters, because I spent so much time trying to make very perfunctory dialog sound interesting. I try to find very interesting ways to say ordinary things and it lets the actor build the character, even for smaller roles.
It gives me a little freedom to explore relationships in a way that you don’t necessarily always get. There would have been a way to make a waitress get a big tip from Toby that didn’t become tethered to the security of her family and then you wouldn’t see that hope of, or that sense of desperation, of needing someone to help her.
You can get as deep as you want. That’s why I try and dig just as deep for characters that appear in one scene as I do for the main characters.
Character is largest in television for a lot of reasons, the largest being you don’t have the time or the money to show a lot of things. You have to tell the things. So you’re always moving the story forward with dialogue. I’m allergic to exposition as a result because I was forced to shovel it for so many years. I’m just not that interested in plot. I want the simplest plot I can come up with that allows me to explore the world, landscape and people.
In Hell or High Water, there’s a bit of mystery from Toby and Tanner. Some of that gets resolved throughout the film, but how much backstory is involved and how much do you want to keep a mystery for the viewers?
As a writer, you can’t write where they’re going unless you know where they’ve been. I don’t necessarily know that it’s important to let the audience know where they’ve been, even though it’s fascinating for all of us to wonder. As it becomes relevant to understanding, then you let that leak out.
Obviously, with Toby and Tanner, you have just enough information to know what they could possibly have done so that you can fully digest the consequences of their actions .
You’ve had some huge names in your films. Do you ever write for specific actors or do you solely write based on the character?
For certain ones, it’s hard not to. You can certainly have someone in mind and I have, and then ultimately the character becomes its own thing and they take on their own personalities and they take on their own lives in your head.
What are some of your writing rituals, when it’s just you alone in the room?
I don’t want a wasted word. I don’t outline. I like to go on a journey and my writing style is that I don’t like to rewrite.
I rewrite as I write, so if I was to sit down and write the first five pages of a new screenplay, let’s say, then the next day I start at page one and read through it and then I spend three days refining those five pages, then you end up changing it, and it distilling down to two, and it kind of accordions out like that.
The funny thing is, around the midway point of the second act – if it’s a 3 act structure – it starts to really write itself, and the tone becomes so clear. A lot of times the tone will become so clear that you’ll have to go back and refine what you’ve already done that led to it.
That’s my process.
What do you find to be the most difficult part of the writing process?
It’s that bridge. It’s the middle of the second act, because that’s when any mistakes you made early on in the first act or anywhere else, that’s where they pop their heads up.
If you hit that wall of logic or the emotional journey of the character starts to feel like it’s wavering, the problem isn’t there, the problem’s thirty pages back, and for me, it happens with every screenplay.
That is the spot, and you can either try to write around it or gut check and go back and kill something you probably really liked. That seems to be one I always have to do.
Someday I’ll assemble all of what I think are the best things I’ve ever written – none of which seemed to make it into the final draft of the script, and I’m just going to piece them together and it’ll look like an Altman film… or a mess or something.
What’s something you wish you had known before you started screenwriting or what’s the key takeaway that a new writer can start doing tomorrow to make their writing better?
I had been in the business for so long and I had seen the consequences of a plot hole or a character flaw or something that wasn’t fully developed. And I had suffered that as the actor or had seen it on the screen. I was pretty merciless on myself from the first day I wrote the first thing.
But for 20 years I’d spent most of my time reciting lines by people that took shortcuts. Don’t take a shortcut.
I always write the movie that I want to go see, and just assume someone else will want to go see it, too. It’s got to be saying what you want to say the way you want to say it.
I think to be a really good screenwriter, you have to be selfish, you have to write just for you. You’ll be your toughest critic, but trying to guess what someone else is going to like or want, that’s such a moving target. You’ll find yourself trying to write something that false.
Constantly remind yourself to write what you’d want to see and that you can’t waste a word.
What was the initial spark of inspiration for this script?
A lot of things – one: at the time I came up with the idea, Texas was going through its worst drought in a century. It was a back breaker for many of these cattle ranches that were facing their own calamities completely independent of the drought. I was back visiting a friend and we drove through the town of Archer City. It was just empty house after empty house after empty house. I went back to this area of Texas — where my family’s from… All the stores that had once been there were gone or had been boarded up. It looked like it had been evacuated. It was sad. So I was very intrigued by that and curious. I mean – I knew why but I was curious to explore it. Likewise I called my cousin Parnell McNamara who’s been a Marshall in Central Texas for thirty-four-years, but was forced to retire at sixty-five. He dedicated his life to this profession and all the sacrifices that come with that and then one day, arbitrarily, he’s told he can’t do it anymore. So that notion of a life without purpose and seeking purpose. Those two things combined for me and that’s where the story came from.
How important is it for you craft these important topical and existential messages into a genre film?
For me – it’s vital. I have no interest in telling a story that isn’t reflective of a place or a mirror to us as a people. The fact that I use what’s called ‘genre films’ to do it… They didn’t call it that in the 70s. Nobody ever called The Deer Hunter a ‘genre movie’. They never did that. They do that now. I’m not sure why. I write movies that I want to go see and the people that influence me, the filmmakers who have influenced me, Clint Eastwood and Michael Mann, and the writers who have influenced me, not screenwriters so much as novelists – Larry McMurty and his incredible gift with dialogue and relationships and character, Cormac McCarthy with his austere sense of place – I try to write with them in mind and try to write movies people want to go see.
Do you outline?
I don’t outline. I spend months playing the movie in my head to a certain degree until I really understand what this character is trying to do. What are they seeking? It doesn’t really matter if they get it; but what do they learn whether they get it or not. And as soon as I understand that, then I try to articulate it with every breath that character takes. You don’t want to find yourself in a moment that’s independent of the character’s journey. I don’t want to see the character have a random conversation with someone that doesn’t somehow move his or her journey forward. Plot doesn’t really matter. I write really simple plots. The simpler the plot, the more time I have to really look inside the character which to me is much more interesting.
Do you give yourself deadlines?
No — I get deadlines given to me…
But you wrote Hell or High Water on spec…
Yeah I wrote it on spec — so my deadline was when do I want to pay the rent.
It’s funny — the specs I tend to write a lot faster than the one’s on deadline. I don’t know why that is. Probably my own issue with authority, I guess.
Do you do a lot of rewrites on your scripts?
I’ve been very fortunate with my three spec scripts — which is sort of my thematic trilogy of the American Frontier. With Sicario, Hell or High Water and then Wind River – which is the third – there were no rewrites. It was the first draft for all three. There were minor polishes done to get them shaped up, move a location because you can’t find that location or you can’t afford that location. But I’m very fortunate…
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on The Road to Gatsby: Fitzgerald’s Struggle for Perfection
What happened to F. Scott Fitzgerald after he wrote The Great Gatsby is, in many ways, the very story he wrote: a man chasing beauty and meaning in a world that often rewards the wrong things, a dreamer undone by the gap between aspiration and reality, and an artist whose true worth was only understood long after the lights went out.
Scott Fitzgerald wrote The Great Gatsby out of a deep, almost aching desire to capture the spirit, illusions, and moral fractures of the American 1920s, a decade he both celebrated and feared was hollow at its core. The novel emerged from a convergence of personal longing, artistic ambition, and cultural observation that had been building in him for years. By the time he began drafting it in 1922, Fitzgerald had already become the literary voice of the Jazz Age. Still, he felt increasingly uneasy about the world he was chronicling—its glittering surfaces, its frantic pursuit of pleasure, its worship of wealth, and its emotional evasions. He sensed that beneath the champagne and the Charleston lay a profound spiritual vacancy, and he wanted to write a novel that would expose that emptiness with precision and beauty.
His own life fed this impulse
Fitzgerald and Zelda were living extravagantly, moving through parties, hotels, and social circles that dazzled him even as they exhausted him, and he feared that success had made him complacent. He wanted to prove—to himself, to critics, to the literary world—that he could write something artistically enduring, something that transcended the commercial charm of This Side of Paradise and The Beautiful and Damned.
He envisioned a novel that was leaner, more controlled, more symbolic, and more structurally perfect than anything he had attempted before
Inspiration came from multiple directions: his Midwestern upbringing, which gave him a lifelong fascination with the tension between innocence and ambition; his years at Princeton, where he observed the rituals of class and aspiration; his romance with Zelda, whose beauty and volatility shaped his understanding of desire; and his time on Long Island, where he lived among the newly rich and watched their lavish displays with both admiration and skepticism.
The seed of Gatsby himself may have come from a young officer Fitzgerald once met, or from bootleggers he encountered, or from his own sense of being an outsider longing for acceptance—Gatsby is, in many ways, Fitzgerald’s most haunting self-portrait, a dreamer who believes too fiercely in the transformative power of longing.
The novel’s themes—reinvention, illusion, the corruption of the American Dream—were not abstract ideas for Fitzgerald but lived experiences, and he poured into the book his fear that America’s promise had been distorted by materialism and that the country’s mythic optimism had curdled into something desperate.
His writing process was intense, disciplined, and often torturous.
Fitzgerald was not a writer who dashed off pages effortlessly; he revised obsessively, searching for the exact rhythm, the perfect metaphor, the most resonant image. He began sketching ideas for the novel in 1922, filling notebooks with character studies, plot outlines, and thematic fragments. He knew early on that he wanted to write “a novel of great moral weight,” something compact and intricately structured, and he experimented with different narrative approaches before settling on Nick Carraway as the reflective, morally ambivalent narrator whose distance from the events would give the story its elegiac tone.
Fitzgerald and Zelda moved to Great Neck, Long Island, in 1922, and the landscape of mansions, parties, and social climbing became the raw material for the novel’s setting. He observed the nouveau riche with fascination—their excesses, their insecurities, their hunger for status—and he translated those observations into the world of West Egg. Yet the writing did not come easily.
Fitzgerald struggled with the plot, with Gatsby’s characterisation, with the balance between satire and tragedy.
He wrote and rewrote entire chapters, sometimes discarding dozens of pages in a single day. In 1924, he and Zelda moved to the French Riviera, partly to escape the distractions of New York and partly because their marriage was under strain. It was there, in the heat and clarity of the Mediterranean summer, that Fitzgerald finally found the focus he needed. He wrote the first full draft between the spring and fall of 1924, working with fierce concentration, often writing through the night. Zelda’s emotional instability and their financial pressures complicated the process, but Fitzgerald remained determined.
When he finished the draft, he sent it to his editor, Maxwell Perkins, who admired its brilliance but encouraged him to deepen Gatsby’s character and clarify certain narrative threads. Fitzgerald took this feedback seriously and embarked on another round of revisions, refining the novel’s structure, sharpening its symbolism, and enriching its emotional undercurrents. He revised the manuscript throughout late 1924 and early 1925, sometimes rewriting passages multiple times to achieve the lyrical precision he wanted.
The famous final lines, among the most celebrated in American literature, were the result of this painstaking process. In total, the novel took him about two and a half years from conception to completion, though the most concentrated period of writing occurred over roughly a year.
When The Great Gatsby was published in April 1925, Fitzgerald believed it was his finest work, the novel in which he had finally achieved the artistic mastery he had long sought. Though it was not a commercial success at the time, he sensed its deeper significance, and he was right: the novel endures because it captures not only the glitter and disillusionment of a particular era but also the timeless human yearning for meaning, identity, and love. Fitzgerald wrote The Great Gatsby because he wanted to distill the essence of the American experience—its dreams, its illusions, its heartbreaks—into a single, shimmering narrative, and he succeeded by drawing on his own contradictions, his cultural insight, and his relentless pursuit of beauty and truth in language.
Fitzgerald and Zelda
After The Great Gatsby appeared in 1925, Fitzgerald entered one of the most turbulent and heartbreaking periods of his life
It was a stretch marked by artistic frustration, financial strain, personal collapse, and a long, painful reckoning with the very themes he had written about so brilliantly. The tragedy is that he believed Gatsby was the best thing he had ever written—and he was right—yet the world barely noticed. The novel sold poorly, reviews were mixed, and the public who had adored the youthful sparkle of This Side of Paradise seemed uninterested in his darker, more disciplined work. That disappointment cut deeply. Fitzgerald had poured years of ambition and self‑scrutiny into Gatsby, hoping it would secure his place among the great American writers, and its lukewarm reception left him feeling misunderstood and, in some ways, defeated. He continued writing short stories for magazines like The Saturday Evening Post, not because he loved the form but because he needed the money; the stories paid the bills, while the novels—his true artistic work—barely supported him at all.
At the same time, his personal life was unravelling. Zelda’s mental health deteriorated rapidly after 1925, and by 1930 she suffered a severe breakdown that led to repeated hospitalisations in Switzerland and the United States. Fitzgerald spent enormous emotional and financial energy trying to care for her, all while raising their daughter, Scottie, and trying to maintain his own career. The strain was immense. He drank heavily—far more than during the Jazz Age years—and alcohol, once a social accessory, became a destructive dependency. His confidence faltered. He struggled to write another novel with the clarity and control of Gatsby, and his next book, Tender Is the Night (1934), took nearly a decade to complete. Though it contains some of his most beautiful writing, it was shaped by exhaustion, guilt, and the collapse of his marriage, and it did not restore his reputation the way he hoped.
Financially, he was often on the edge. The lavish lifestyle of the early 1920s was long gone, replaced by debt, hospital bills, and the grinding pressure to produce commercial stories. The Great Depression made everything worse. Publishers paid less, magazines folded, and the market for fiction shrank. Fitzgerald, once the golden boy of American letters, found himself struggling to survive. By the mid‑1930s, he was viewed as a relic of a bygone era, a writer whose moment had passed. That sense of fading relevance haunted him. He wrote essays about his own decline—most famously “The Crack‑Up”—in which he admitted that something inside him had broken. These essays shocked readers with their candor, but they also revealed a man trying to understand his own collapse with the same honesty he once brought to his fiction.
F. Scott Fitzgerald and Sheilah Graham together in 1930s Hollywood: a quiet, sepia-toned portrait that captures their complex, intimate bond. Fitzgerald, worn but dignified, sits beside Graham, whose poised expression reflects both affection and resilience. Their relationship, forged in the final years of his life, offered him companionship and stability amid personal and professional decline.
In 1937, desperate for steady income, Fitzgerald moved to Hollywood to work as a screenwriter
The studios paid well, but the work was grueling and often humiliating. He was hired, fired, rehired, and assigned to projects that rarely used his talents. He longed to write something meaningful again, something that would redeem the years he felt he had wasted. In Hollywood he also fell in love with the gossip columnist Sheilah Graham, a relationship that brought him some stability and tenderness in his final years. Despite his declining health, he began working on a new novel, The Last Tycoon, a story about power, ambition, and the machinery of Hollywood. The fragments he completed show a writer regaining his strength, sharpening his craft, and reaching once more for greatness.
But he never finished it. On December 21, 1940, at the age of forty‑four, Fitzgerald died of a heart attack in Graham’s apartment.
At the time of his death, he believed himself a failure.
His books were out of print, his reputation diminished, and he feared he would be forgotten. Yet within a decade, a remarkable revival began. Scholars rediscovered The Great Gatsby, critics recognized its brilliance, and by the 1950s it had become a central text of American literature. Today it is widely regarded as one of the greatest novels ever written, a book that captures the American imagination with unmatched elegance and insight.
The legacy of The Great Gatsby on stage and film is a testament to its enduring mystique, its lyrical power, and its haunting portrayal of the American Dream’s collapse
Since its publication in 1925, the novel has inspired a wide array of adaptations across media—each reflecting the cultural mood of its time and offering new interpretations of Fitzgerald’s vision.
Stage Legacy
The first stage adaptation appeared in 1926, just a year after the novel’s release. Produced by William Brady and adapted by Pulitzer Prize–winning playwright Owen Davis, the Broadway production starred James Rennie as Gatsby and Florence Eldridge as Daisy. Directed by George Cukor, it rearranged the novel’s chronology and omitted key scenes like the valley of ashes and the Plaza Hotel confrontation. Despite these changes, it was a commercial success, running for 112 performances and touring nationally. Over the decades, Gatsby has returned to the stage in various forms—from dramatic revivals to musical interpretations. Notably, the novel entered the public domain in 2021, sparking a wave of new theatrical experiments, including immersive performances and operatic adaptations.
Film Legacy
The cinematic journey of The Great Gatsby began with a silent film in 1926, now lost to history. Later versions include the 1949 adaptation starring Alan Ladd, the 1974 film with Robert Redford and Mia Farrow, and the 2000 television movie featuring Toby Stephens and Mira Sorvino. Each version grappled with the challenge of translating Fitzgerald’s poetic prose and symbolic depth into visual storytelling. The most commercially successful and visually extravagant adaptation came in 2013, directed by Baz Luhrmann and starring Leonardo DiCaprio, Carey Mulligan, and Tobey Maguire. Luhrmann’s version embraced spectacle, blending period detail with modern music to evoke the novel’s emotional intensity and cultural resonance. Though divisive among critics, it introduced Gatsby to a new generation and became a global box office hit.
Broader Cultural Impact
Beyond stage and film, Gatsby has inspired ballets, operas, graphic novels, and even video games. Its themes—illusion, longing, reinvention—remain universally compelling. The novel’s centennial in 2025 saw renewed interest, with Broadway musicals and academic retrospectives exploring its relevance to issues of race, class, and privilege. The character of Gatsby himself—part romantic, part fraud—continues to fascinate artists and audiences alike, serving as a mirror for each era’s dreams and disillusionments. In every adaptation, the challenge remains: how to capture the novel’s shimmering sadness, its moral ambiguity, and its lyrical precision. Yet the very difficulty of adaptation is part of its legacy. The Great Gatsby resists simplification, and that resistance has made it a touchstone for generations of storytellers seeking to understand the cost of dreaming too hard.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on F Valentine’s Day – A Sharp, Sun‑Drenched Reimagining of the Modern Rom‑Com
F Valentine’s Day blends acerbic humour, emotional vulnerability, and Mediterranean escapism into a story that questions the rituals and pressures surrounding love.
Written by Steve Bencich and directed by Mark Gantt, the film follows Gina, a woman who despises her Valentine’s Day birthday and flees to Greece to stop her boyfriend from proposing—only to find herself entangled in a chaotic, sun‑lit journey of self‑discovery.
The film’s premise is deceptively simple: Gina, played by Virginia Gardner, cannot bear the idea of her boyfriend proposing on the day she hates most. Her birthday has long been overshadowed by the commercialised spectacle of Valentine’s Day, and the thought of cementing her romantic future on that date sends her spiralling. She escapes to Greece, where she meets Johnny and Mickey—two vacationers who help her stall the impending proposal while forcing her to confront the deeper truths she has been avoiding. This setup allows the film to explore the tension between societal expectations and personal readiness, using comedy as a vehicle for emotional honesty. The trailer and early synopses emphasise Gina’s internal conflict: she is not sure whether she wants to say “no,” but she knows she is not ready to say “yes.”
Origins and Creative Inspiration
The inspiration behind F Valentine’s Day lies in the universal discomfort many people feel around Valentine’s Day—a holiday that often amplifies insecurities, pressures, and performative romance. Screenwriter Steve Bencich, known for his work in both family films and character‑driven comedies, taps into this cultural ambivalence. By centring the story on a protagonist whose birthday falls on February 14th, Bencich heightens the emotional stakes: Gina’s resentment is not just about the holiday but about a lifetime of overshadowed celebrations, unmet expectations, and the sense that her personal milestones have been swallowed by a global ritual.
Director Mark Gantt brings a grounded, character‑focused sensibility to the film. His background in both acting and directing allows him to shape performances that feel spontaneous and emotionally textured. Gantt’s approach to the material leans into authenticity—capturing the awkwardness, humour, and vulnerability that arise when a person tries to outrun their own life. The decision to shoot in Malta, doubling for Greece, adds a layer of escapist fantasy while maintaining a sense of lived‑in realism. The Mediterranean setting becomes a metaphor for Gina’s emotional state: beautiful, chaotic, unpredictable, and full of possibility.
A Cast That Elevates the Material
The film’s ensemble cast is one of its greatest strengths. Virginia Gardner brings a mix of comedic timing and emotional depth to Gina, making her both relatable and compelling. Marisa Tomei, as Gina’s mother Wendy, adds warmth and complexity, grounding the story in intergenerational tension and affection. Skylar Astin plays Andrew, the well‑meaning boyfriend whose proposal triggers Gina’s crisis, while Jake Cannavale, Sabrina Bartlett, Natasha Leggero, and Lil Rel Howery round out the supporting cast with humour and charm.
Each character represents a different facet of Gina’s emotional journey. Johnny and Mickey, the siblings she befriends abroad, act as catalysts—challenging her assumptions about love, commitment, and the narratives she has built around her own life. Their presence forces Gina to confront the possibility that she may be sabotaging her own happiness, not because she fears love, but because she fears losing control.
Themes and Emotional Resonance
At its core, F Valentine’s Day is a film about agency. Gina’s frantic attempt to stop her boyfriend’s proposal is not an act of cruelty but an act of self‑preservation. She is a woman caught between expectation and desire, between the life she has built and the life she secretly wants. The film uses humour to explore these contradictions, allowing audiences to laugh at Gina’s missteps while recognising the emotional truth beneath them.
The story also interrogates the cultural mythology of Valentine’s Day. For many, the holiday is a source of joy; for others, it is a reminder of loneliness, pressure, or past disappointments. By placing its protagonist at the centre of this tension, the film invites viewers to question the narratives they have inherited about love. Is a proposal on Valentine’s Day romantic—or is it cliché? Is commitment a milestone to be celebrated—or a decision that requires deep introspection? The film refuses easy answers, instead offering a portrait of a woman learning to trust her own instincts.
The Significance of Setting
The Mediterranean backdrop is not merely decorative. Greece—evoked through Malta’s landscapes—serves as a symbolic space where Gina can step outside her routine and confront her fears. The sun‑drenched beaches, winding streets, and vibrant local culture create a sense of possibility. Travel becomes a metaphor for emotional movement: Gina must leave home to find clarity, and the unfamiliar environment forces her to see her life from a new angle.
This aligns the film with a long tradition of romantic comedies that use travel as transformation—from Under the Tuscan Sun to Mamma Mia!—but F Valentine’s Day distinguishes itself by grounding its escapism in emotional realism. Gina is not running toward a fantasy; she is running away from a decision she is not ready to make. The journey becomes a space for reflection rather than escape.
Why F Valentine’s Day Matters
In a cinematic landscape where romantic comedies often rely on formula, F Valentine’s Day stands out for its willingness to embrace discomfort. It acknowledges that love is messy, that timing is imperfect, and that personal growth rarely aligns with societal expectations.
F Valentine’s Day is more than a romantic comedy; it is a story about reclaiming one’s voice in a world full of noise. Through Gina’s chaotic, heartfelt journey, the film invites viewers to question the stories they tell themselves about love, commitment, and identity. With sharp writing from Steve Bencich, thoughtful direction from Mark Gantt, and a cast that brings humour and humanity to every scene, the film stands poised to become a standout entry in the modern rom‑com canon. It is a reminder that sometimes the most important love story is the one we write for ourselves.
Steve Bencich is an American screenwriter and producer whose career spans studio animation, family films, and character‑driven comedies. He is best known for co‑writing major Disney titles such as Brother Bear, Chicken Little, and Open Season, projects that established his reputation for blending humour with emotional sincerity. Bencich’s writing often centres on characters navigating identity, belonging, and personal transformation—qualities that carry into his live‑action work as well. Over the years he has expanded into directing and producing independent features, bringing a grounded, human touch to stories that balance heart with comedic edge. With F Valentine’s Day, Bencich continues to evolve his voice, crafting a romantic comedy that leans into vulnerability, timing, and the messy contradictions of modern love.
Mark Gantt is a director, actor, and producer whose multifaceted career began in front of the camera before expanding into filmmaking. He first gained wide recognition for co‑creating and starring in the groundbreaking web series The Bannen Way, which won multiple Streamy Awards and showcased his talent for stylish, fast‑paced storytelling. As a director, Gantt has built a body of work across television, digital series, and independent film, known for his collaborative approach and his ability to draw natural, emotionally layered performances from actors. His visual style favours intimacy and immediacy, grounding comedy and drama alike in authentic human behaviour. In F Valentine’s Day, Gantt brings this sensibility to a sun‑drenched romantic comedy, shaping a story that balances sharp humour with heartfelt introspection.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Crime 101 – An homage to sophisticated cinematic thrillers of yesteryear
Adapted from Don Winslow’s acclaimed novella of the same name, Crime 101 is a neo-noir love letter to Los Angeles and its high-gloss, high-stakes way of life.
Written and directed by Bart Layton, the BAFTA‑winning filmmaker behind The Imposter and American Animals, it’s a pulse-pounding, big-screen adaptation about a jewel thief whose last job may become more final than he realises, is alluring, exciting and effortlessly cool.
For Crime 101, Layton saw an ideal setting in the status-obsessed city of Los Angeles, where what you have is very often confused with who you are. “I felt like many of the characters are slightly trapped in that sense of ‘I’m never going to feel good about my place in the world unless I have this,’” Layton says. “L.A. is a place that really nurtures that sense of: if you want to really be somebody and feel like you are of value, you need to have all the external trappings of great success. I think status anxiety is a constant thing.”
Layton was inspired by a lifelong love of classic heist thrillers such as Steven Soderbergh’s Out of Sight (1998), Michael Mann’s Thief (1980), The Sting, and Norman Jewison’s The Thomas Crown Affair (1968).
“They were grownup movies,” he says. “They had real characters and were kind of tonally not simply a comedy, a drama or a thriller. They had light and shade. I definitely thought it would be nice to remind people that those are still great experiences to have in the cinema.”
“I read the script and loved it because it felt like a real throwback to ‘90s thrillers,” Chris Hemsworth says. “There was a sort of nostalgia to the story that you don’t see too much these days. I was a fan of Bart’s work and loved American Animals. It was a very character-driven drama with elaborate intersecting storylines. After our first meeting I thought not only has he written an incredibly compelling script, but he also has a brilliant vision for the film.”
Set against the sun-bleached grit of Los Angeles, Crime 101 weaves the tale of an elusive jewel thief (Chris Hemsworth) whose string of heists along the 101 freeway have mystified police. When he eyes the score of a lifetime, his path crosses that of a disillusioned insurance broker (Halle Berry) who is facing her own crossroads. Convinced he has found a pattern, a relentless detective (Mark Ruffalo) is closing in, raising the stakes even higher. As the heist approaches, the line between hunter and hunted begins to blur, and all three are faced with life-defining choices–and the realization that there can be no turning back.
Reality Behind The Fiction
The Novella “Crime 101” was first published in Don Winslow’s story collection, Broken in October 2020, and soon afterwards, producers began jockeying for the rights to land a big-screen adaptation. “There was quite a lot of heat around it,” recalls producer Dimitri Doganis, Bart Layton’s partner at RAW productions.
“The central question of crime fiction for me is how does one try to live decently in an indecent world?,” says Don Winslow. “So I often have characters with good intentions that they’re not always able to carry out. I like characters that have internal conflict. I like characters who are morally flawed. I’m not trying to write white knights. At the same time, I’m not trying to write totally dark villains. I like those ambiguities. I think that that is reality, and I tend to write realistic fiction”.
Meet your guide
“My agent sent it to me and said, I think this is right up your street,” Layton adds. “I read it in the depths of winter during the pandemic lockdown that year, and it was such a breath of fresh air. It was all set along this sun-drenched strip of road.”
After securing a deal with Winslow and his producing partner Shane Salerno of The Story Factory, the London-based Layton traveled to Southern California to meet with the author and visit some of the settings in the story. The novella was based around the San Diego area along the lower end of the Pacific Coast Highway, but Layton proposed moving the majority of the action up the coastline to Los Angeles. “He was talking about Solana Beach and all these places that are actually really small little towns and I felt like it needed to have a bigger canvas,” Layton says.
While there’s something romantic about the notion of a gentleman jewel thief, Layton wanted his adaptation of Winslow’s story to have the feel of stark reality as a foundation.
Hemsworth’s Davis may look like a Norse god, and may personally idolize Steve McQueen, but he comes from humble origins. Knowing what it’s like to be afraid or hungry keeps him doing this dangerous job, but now that he has had unfathomable success, he is searching for a way to land one final score and retire—without getting caught, or inflicting any material harm to others. To understand this psychology, Layton and Doganis, who have spent two decades collaborating on documentary projects, took a journalistic approach to researching real-life criminals in the jewel trade.
“For us, that isn’t unusual. That is absolutely the standard place that one starts building a story. Real people, real experiences,” Doganis says. “Then you make sure that what you are doing really feels like it’s anchored in truth. I think that’s what we were always struggling for, even with something which is entirely invented. It has to plug into broader truths about who we are and how we live and what we want if it’s going to stay with people. Both jewel thieves and the policemen who chased them were really important sources to get certain details.”
“It turns out there are real people who are jewel thieves. There are real fences, there are real detectives, obviously, and there are real street kids,” Layton adds. “If you can find them, sometimes you can talk to them. We’ve made lots of documentaries in lots of hostile environments, and you often find the same things: generally, people who are doing bad things are people who haven’t really ever had much in the way of care for them or love. Some of them have codes and moral boundaries, and some don’t.”
What sets Davis apart from other criminals is his determination not to hurt or kill anyone. Having grown up without a steady home, or much of a family, he also returns the cell phones of some of the guards he holds at bay in the course of his hold-ups. In a line taken directly from Winslow’s novella, Davis is reluctant to destroy the devices, even though that would be safer for him, because he knows people seldom back up their family photos. While that might seem like pure fantasy, Layton’s research showed him that many thieves also try their best to be “good guys,” of a sort. “We did meet criminals who were like, ‘Yeah, my M.O. was always to break into somewhere if there was definitely not going to be anyone there,” Layton says. “There were thieves who did their research very thoroughly.”
BART LAYTON (Director/Writer/Producer) The British filmmaker wrote, directed and produced his debut feature documentary The Imposter (2012) about Frederic Bourdin, a charismatic French con artist and serial identity thief, who pretended to be the missing Texan boy Nicholas Barclay. His follow up, the critically acclaimed debut feature film American Animals (2018) which he developed at the Sundance Lab. In the mid 2000s, Layton co-founded the leading London-based production company RAW. His work as a creator, director and producer spans numerous well-known television series and feature docs, such as Locked Up Abroad, The Tinder Swindler, The Deepest Breath, and Fear City, amongst many others.
DON WINSLOW (Author of the novella “Crime 101”) is a New York Times bestselling author, having written twenty-four novels, including “The Force,” “Savages,” “The Winter of Frankie Machine,” the highly acclaimed Cartel Trilogy – “The Power of the Dog,” “The Cartel,” and “The Border” – as well as the epic Danny Ryan Trilogy – “City On Fire,” “City of Dreams” and “City In Ruins.” In addition, Winslow has published a collection of short stories and novellas – “Broken” – with another collection – “Collision” – to be released in January of 2026. He has written stories for Amazon Audible, as well as numerous short stories in anthologies and magazines such as Esquire, the LA Times Magazine and Playboy. His columns have appeared in Vanity Fair, Vulture, Huffington Post, CNN Online, and other outlets here and abroad. His novel “City On Fire” is under way as a feature film starring Austin Butler and directed by Matt Ross. Previously, Winslow’s novel “The Death and Life of Bobby Z” was made into a film. His novel Savages was made into a feature film directed by three-time Oscar winner Oliver Stone. Winslow is also an outspoken political activist, known for his commentaries and videos on X, which have garnered more than three hundred million views. The son of a sailor and a librarian (“My father was a sailor who loved books, my mother a librarian who loved a sailor”) Winslow grew up with a love of reading in a small coastal Rhode Island town. He left at age seventeen to study journalism at the University of Nebraska, where he earned a degree in African Studies. While in college, he traveled to Africa, sparking a lifelong involvement with that continent. Moving to New York to try to become a writer, Winslow instead found work as a movie theater manager (“The New Yorker wasn’t exactly beating down my door”), and later as private investigator, working mostly in Times Square “before Mickey Mouse took it over” and Hell’s Kitchen. During this time, he acquired his love of crime fiction. Winslow returned to college to receive a master’s degree in Military History and intended to go into the Foreign Service but instead joined a friend’s photographic safari firm in Kenya. He led trips there as well as hiking expeditions in southwestern China, and later directed Shakespeare productions during summers in Oxford, England. While bouncing back and forth between Asia, Africa, Europe and America, Winslow wrote his first novel, “A Cool Breeze On The Underground,” which was nominated for an Edgar Award. His breakthrough came with his signing with The Story Factory, the book and film agency run by his close friend Shane Salerno. He and Salerno had earlier written a television series UC/Undercover, and the two collaborated on the screenplay of Savages. The success of Savages and The Cartel finally allowed Winslow to become a full-time writer and settle on an old ranch in his beloved California, the setting for many of his books. Winslow is the recipient of the Raymond Chandler Award (Italy), the LA Times Book Prize, the Ian Fleming Silver Dagger (UK), The RBA Literary Prize (Spain), The Maltese Falcon Award (Japan) and many other prestigious awards.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Whistle – A New Pulse in Modern Horror
Whistle arrives as one of the most striking and culturally resonant horror films of the decade—a sharp, atmospheric fusion of teen survival thriller, ancient mythology, and supernatural dread.
Written by Owen Egerton, adapting his own short story, and directed by Corin Hardy, the film expands a compact literary premise into a full‑scale cinematic nightmare.
Whistle is more than a supernatural thriller; it is a meditation on fear, fate, and the echoes of history. With Owen Egerton’s sharp, myth‑infused writing and Corin Hardy’s atmospheric, creature‑driven direction, the film transforms a simple premise into a haunting exploration of what it means to be pursued—by death, by guilt, by the consequences of curiosity. Its blend of ancient mythology and modern adolescence gives it a unique voice within the horror genre, ensuring its place as one of the year’s most compelling and culturally resonant releases.
Sky Yang in Corin Hardy’s WHISTLE. Courtesy of Michael Gibson. An Independent Film Company and Shudder Release.
Set within a contemporary high‑school milieu, Whistle follows a group of misfit teenagers who stumble upon an ancient Aztec death whistle, a real historical artifact known for producing a sound eerily reminiscent of human screams. In the film’s mythology, blowing the whistle summons the listener’s future death, which then hunts them down with relentless inevitability. What begins as a moment of adolescent curiosity spirals into a supernatural countdown, forcing the group to confront not only the whistle’s origins but the personal fears and unresolved tensions that make them vulnerable. This premise—simple, elegant, and terrifying—anchors the film’s exploration of fate, guilt, and the thin line between ritual and curse.
Veteran writer of short stories and screenplays, Owen Egerton’s inspiration is rooted in exploring what frightens him most
And what scares him most is death. “Not just death in the vague sort of sense but my particular death, my personal death. So I came up with a story about people being pursued by their own particular death. Their own particular future ghost coming to get them.”
That was the genesis of the short story “Untimely,” that found its way to the desk of No Trace Camping’s David Gross. The story was based on an Aztec death whistle that found its way to a circle of high school friends and chaos ensues. Intrigued, Gross and his team soon discovered that there were several National Geographic documentaries about the mythology of the Aztec whistle. “We thought it was a fresh idea that if you blew the whistle your death would hunt you down. It felt like a fresh horror concept we hadn’t seen before,” recalls Gross. “It reminded us of films like Final Destination that were verysuccessful.”
Egerton got the green light to develop “Untimely” into a script and submitted his draft two days before the writers’ strike. With Egerton unable to continue work, Gross did the only thing that could be done given the circumstances. He sent the script out to gauge if any filmmakers were as excited about its potential as Gross and his team.
Known for his encyclopedic knowledge and love of horror, Corin Hardy was the director Gross and his team wanted at the helm.
He had been on No Trace Camping’s radar for a long time but the opportunity to collaborate had never materialized. They hoped for a different outcome this time around. Igniting Hardy’s enthusiasm for the script was the stamp of approval Gross and team wanted. And, that’s what they got.
As he read, Hardy grew more excited about making a horror movie that could be both emotionally involved and scary. Hardy knew he had something that he could apply himself to as a director, a writer, and a lover of horror and monster movies. He proceeded to work on solidifying the characters’ backstories and motivations, and on the elements to make them memorable and cinematic. Creating a story that balanced elements of a very classic, old school horror movie with something as entertaining, as scary, and as moving as possible was his goal.
For Gross, “Corin enhanced what was on the page but most of his ideas were directorial and about how we cast the film and stylistically versus what was on the page.”
“When you go into a movie with the kind of ambition for what we wanted to achieve on this, I needed tried and trusted collaborators,” says Hardy. He tapped cinematographer Bjorn Charpentier. The two had collaborated on “Gangs of London.” “We developed a rapport and trust that meant we could be really ambitious and cinematic, and be able to solve problems quickly,” explains Hardy. He felt Charpentier’s visual style lent itself to what Hardy had always wanted to achieve but never had the chance to in his previous work.
Reading the script, Hardy got increasingly more enthused about the opportunity to create the deaths described by Owen Egerton for the screen. Each had to be distinctive and come from a different motivation of how the person died and how it can be visualized. It was a welcome challenge. “It’s hard in horror to not repeat something that’s already happened. I tried to work something into each one to make it memorable. There’s certain mechanisms within horror, within tension, or jump-scares. But I was trying to really interrogate and investigate how we could make something in the script even better and how to bring it to life on the screen,” says Hardy. “This is something Owen had conceived fantastically, and I relished the chance to materialize them.”
Production designer Jennifer Spence’s extensive experience creating sets for horror and genre projects made her an easy choice for Whistle. Spence and Hardy first collaborated on The Nun in 2018, and have developed an easy collaborative style. “We have this ease about the way we communicate together because we’re kindred spirits in a lot of ways. He comes from a horror background and so do I. So we love working together because there’s a simplicity that comes with knowing somebody as well as we’ve come to know each other.”
Director Corin Hardy on the set of WHISTLE. Courtesy of Michael Gibson. An Independent Film Company and Shudder Release.
The Inspiration: Ancient Sound, Modern Fear
The film’s central inspiration—the Aztec death whistle—is a real artifact used historically in ritual contexts, often associated with war, sacrifice, or spiritual transition. Its sound, described as a chilling human scream, has fascinated historians, musicians, and horror creators alike. Egerton’s decision to build a story around this object taps into a primal fear: the idea that sound itself can summon danger.
In Whistle, the artifact becomes a bridge between ancient cosmology and modern adolescence. The teens’ discovery of the whistle mirrors the way contemporary culture often encounters ancient artifacts—through curiosity, misinterpretation, and a lack of reverence for the histories they carry. The film uses this dynamic to explore themes of cultural inheritance, the consequences of ignorance, and the way the past can intrude violently into the present.
Hardy and Egerton have cited a range of cinematic influences, from folk horror to supernatural thrillers, shaping a film that feels both mythic and contemporary. The result is a work that stands comfortably within the lineage of cursed‑object horror while offering a fresh, culturally specific twist.
Jhaleil Swaby in Corin Hardy’s WHISTLE. Courtesy of Michael Gibson. An Independent Film Company and Shudder Release.
Production and World‑Building
Shot in Hamilton, Ontario, with key scenes filmed at Delta Secondary School and the Rockton Fairgrounds, the film uses its Canadian locations to create a sense of small‑town claustrophobia. The familiar setting contrasts sharply with the ancient, otherworldly threat, heightening the sense that the supernatural has invaded the everyday.
Hardy’s collaboration with cinematographer Björn Charpentier results in a visual palette that shifts between cold realism and feverish nightmare. The “future deaths” that stalk the teens are rendered with a blend of practical effects and digital augmentation, giving them a disturbing physicality that feels rooted in Hardy’s creature‑horror sensibilities.
Owen Egerton is an American novelist, screenwriter, and filmmaker whose work moves fluidly between dark humour, horror, and philosophical inquiry. As a writer, he has built a reputation for stories that blend the uncanny with the emotionally intimate, often using supernatural premises to explore guilt, grief, and the fragile architecture of human connection. His novels—such as The Book of Harold, the Illegitimate Son of God and Hollow—showcase his ability to balance satire with genuine existential weight. Egerton has also written and directed several independent films, including Follow and Blood Fest, both of which highlight his fascination with the psychology of fear and the consequences of curiosity. In Whistle, he adapts his own short story, expanding its mythic seed into a full‑scale cinematic nightmare. His script retains the literary precision of the original tale while deepening its emotional stakes, grounding the supernatural terror in the vulnerabilities of adolescence.
CORIN HARDY (Director) is an award-winning filmmaker, illustrator, sculptor and writer, whose visual style mixes the macabre, the beautiful and the epic to visually dazzling results. Hardy grew up in a world steeped in creatures & creativity, beginning his early career aged 12 as a special FX ‘monster-maker’ in his parents’ bike shed. Inspired by a hungry diet of Ray Harryhausen monster movies and 70’s & 80’s horror cinema, he made a number of Super-8 films with school-friends who regularly stood in for his cast of zombies, werewolves, and slasher victims and created elaborate sets to make plasticine stop-motion epics in his bedroom. Throughout his teenage years, he gained film experience in sculpting, FX, wardrobe & art departments on a variety of film, TV & theatre productions ranging from a Royal National Ballet production of ‘Dracula’ to Columbia Pictures ‘First Knight’.
He studied theatre design at Wimbledon School of Art before hand-crafting his award-winning stop-motion short film ‘Butterfly’ (2004) which premiered at the Edinburgh Film Festival and won the Brussels Animation Festival for best long animated short. This led to his signing to Academy Films where he directed a series of short films and narratively driven music videos for a range of mainstream and underground bands including The Prodigy, Keane, Biffy Clyro, Olly Murs, Paolo Nutini and The Horrible Crowes – culminating in a 9 minute crime epic for Devlin and Ed Sheeran’s cover of ‘Watchtower’. His music videos have accrued over 300 million views and won numerous awards around the world.
Hardy wrote and directed his debut feature THE HALLOW in 2015; which premiered at the Sundance Film Festival and proceeded to win international awards for directing, cinematography and effects including Best Horror Film at the UK’s Empire Film Awards 2016 and 5 Awards at the Los Angeles Scream Fest including Best Direction, Cinematography, Score, Visual FX and Practical FX. He next directed THE NUN; the next installment of James Wan’s blockbusting ‘Conjuring Universe’ franchise, for New Line/Warner Bros starring Taissa Farmiga and Demian Bichir. He most recently directed the series “Gangs of London.”
OWEN EGERTON (Writer) Owen Egerton is an author, performer, and filmmaker. He is the writer/director of MERCY BLACK (Blumhouse/Netflix), the horror/comedy BLOOD FEST (Rooster Teeth/Warner Media) and the psychological horror FOLLOW (Raven Banner). He’s the author of several books including The Book of Harold, the Illegitimate Son of God, Everyone Says That at the End of the World, the short story collection How Best to Avoid Dying, and Hollow which NPR listed as one of the best books of 2017. He also wrote and starred in the Zach Scott produced play The Other Side of Sleep. As a screenwriter he has written for Warner Brothers, Fox, Disney and many others. Egerton is also the host of public radio’s The Write Up and the reading series One Page Salon. Egerton and his wife, poet Jodi Egerton, wrote the writing craft book This Word Now. Egerton has been honored as one of Austin’s top comics performing with The Sinus Show and Master Pancake Theater. He’s been voted Austin’s favorite author by the readers of the Austin Chronicle seven times.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Truth & Treason: A Filmmaker’s Quest for Historical Truth
Truth & Treason is a 2025 American drama rooted in one of the most striking acts of youth resistance during the Second World War, and its creation reflects a decades‑long artistic and moral commitment to telling a story that might otherwise have remained in the margins of history.
Written by Matt Whitaker and Ethan Vincent and directed by Whitaker, the film dramatizes the true story of Helmuth Hübener, a 16‑year‑old German Latter‑day Saint who defied the Nazi regime by secretly listening to banned short‑wave radio broadcasts and distributing leaflets that exposed the government’s lies.
Whitaker’s connection to the material stretches back to 2001, when he first encountered Hübener’s story through a personal meeting with Karl‑Heinz Schnibbe, one of Hübener’s real‑life collaborators. Schnibbe, then in his late seventies, shared his memories of the resistance group with Whitaker—an encounter that left the filmmaker deeply moved and determined to bring the story to the screen. That early spark would eventually evolve into a major cinematic project more than two decades later, culminating in a film that blends historical fidelity, moral urgency, and a contemporary resonance that speaks to the dangers of propaganda and the courage required to resist it.
The film is currently available to stream on Angel Studios, where it forms part of the platform’s catalogue of historically grounded, morally driven narratives. For viewers who prefer on‑demand access, the film can be rented or purchased digitally through major services including Amazon Video, Apple TV, and Fandango At Home, with rental and purchase options offered in both HD and 4K formats. Physical media collectors can also find the film on DVD and Blu‑ray through retailers such as Amazon and Barnes & Noble
The film’s origins lie in Whitaker’s long‑standing fascination with Hübener’s moral clarity and youthful audacity
After hearing Schnibbe recount the group’s clandestine activities—listening to foreign radio at night, typing leaflets on a borrowed typewriter, and distributing them across Hamburg—Whitaker recognised the story’s cinematic potential. But more than that, he recognised its ethical weight: a teenager, armed with nothing but conviction and a typewriter, dared to challenge one of the most powerful and violent regimes in history.
This moral dimension became the emotional core of the screenplay Whitaker later co‑wrote with Ethan Vincent
Their script sought not only to dramatize events but to explore the psychological and spiritual journey of a young man awakening to truth in a society built on lies. The writing process was shaped by extensive historical research, survivor testimony, and a desire to portray the resistance group not as mythic heroes but as ordinary youths who made extraordinary choices.
The project’s development journey was itself unusual. Initially conceived as a limited series titled Truth & Conviction, the production shifted direction once filming began. The creative team decided to craft both a feature film—retitled Truth & Treason—and a companion limited series that would expand the narrative.
This dual‑format approach allowed Whitaker and Vincent to balance cinematic intensity with historical breadth, giving audiences both a tightly focused dramatic experience and a more expansive episodic exploration of the events.
The production was undertaken by Kaleidoscope Pictures, with Whitaker, Russ Kendall, and John Foss producing and Adam Thomas Anderegg and Micah W. Merrill serving as executive producers. Filming began in Vilnius, Lithuania, on April 29, 2024, and continued for fifty days, using the city’s preserved historical architecture to recreate wartime Hamburg.
The cinematography by Bianca Cline and the score by Aaron Zigman further shaped the film’s aesthetic, blending stark realism with emotional intimacy.
The casting of Ewan Horrocks as Helmuth Hübener anchors the film with a performance that captures both the vulnerability and the fierce moral resolve of a teenager confronting the machinery of totalitarianism. Rupert Evans, Ferdinand McKay, and Daf Thomas portray the adults and peers who shaped Hübener’s world, offering a nuanced depiction of German society under Nazism—one that avoids simplistic binaries and instead reveals the complex moral terrain ordinary people navigated.
This commitment to nuance is one of the film’s strengths. Rather than portraying all Germans as villains or victims, Truth & Treason shows individuals wrestling with fear, loyalty, indoctrination, and conscience. The result is a narrative that feels both historically grounded and emotionally contemporary.
The journey from screenplay to finished film was shaped by Whitaker’s long‑term dedication to the story
His initial meeting with Schnibbe in 2001 planted the seed, but the project required years of research, development, and fundraising before it could move into production. The involvement of Angel Studios as distributor helped bring the film to a wider audience, aligning with the studio’s interest in stories of moral courage and historical significance.
The significance of Truth & Treason lies in several intertwined dimensions
Historically, it brings renewed attention to Helmuth Hübener, whose story—though known in some circles—has never achieved the global recognition of other youth resistance movements such as the White Rose. By dramatizing his actions, the film restores Hübener to the broader narrative of anti‑Nazi resistance and highlights the role of young people in challenging authoritarianism.
Culturally, the film arrives at a moment when questions about truth, misinformation, and moral courage are intensely relevant. As one reviewer noted, many young people today encounter distorted or trivialized portrayals of Nazism through social media and entertainment, making historically grounded stories like Hübener’s especially important.
The film thus serves as both a historical corrective and a moral provocation, inviting viewers to consider what it means to resist injustice in their own time.
Artistically, Truth & Treason stands as a testament to long‑form creative commitment. Whitaker’s decades‑long journey—from hearing Schnibbe’s story to crafting a screenplay, assembling a production team, and finally realising the film—reflects a rare persistence in contemporary filmmaking. The decision to create both a feature film and a limited series underscores the creators’ desire to honor the complexity of the historical record while still delivering a compelling cinematic experience. This dual approach allows for both emotional immediacy and narrative depth, offering audiences multiple entry points into the story.
Finally, the film’s significance lies in its portrayal of conscience as an act of resistance
Hübener’s leaflets—typed at night, distributed in secret, and ultimately used as evidence against him—represent a belief in the power of truth even when spoken by the powerless. In dramatizing this belief, Truth & Treason becomes more than a historical drama; it becomes a meditation on the moral responsibility of individuals in the face of systemic lies. It reminds viewers that resistance often begins with a single voice refusing to be silenced, and that the courage of one teenager can echo across generations.
In this way, Truth & Treason is both a tribute to a forgotten hero and a call to vigilance in the present. Its journey from inspiration to screen mirrors the very themes it explores: persistence, conviction, and the enduring power of truth.
Matt Whitaker is an American writer‑director whose career has been shaped by a deep commitment to stories of moral courage, historical truth, and the quiet heroism of ordinary people. Co‑founder of Kaleidoscope Pictures, Whitaker has spent more than two decades creating documentary and narrative work that explores the human cost of conflict and the resilience of the human spirit. His long engagement with the story of Helmuth Hübener began in 2001, when he met Karl‑Heinz Schnibbe, one of Hübener’s real‑life collaborators in the anti‑Nazi resistance. That encounter became the emotional and creative catalyst for what would eventually become Truth & Treason. Whitaker’s filmmaking is marked by meticulous research, a documentarian’s respect for lived testimony, and a storyteller’s instinct for emotional clarity. His work often bridges the personal and the historical, inviting audiences to consider how individual acts of conscience reverberate across time. As both writer and director of Truth & Treason, he brings to the screen a project that reflects not only artistic ambition but a decades‑long moral promise to honour a story that shaped him early in his career.
Ethan Vincent is a writer, producer, and director known for his ability to blend historical authenticity with cinematic intimacy. A long‑time collaborator with Matt Whitaker, Vincent has worked across documentary and narrative formats, contributing to projects that foreground human resilience, ethical complexity, and the search for truth in turbulent times. His writing is grounded in rigorous research and a sensitivity to character, allowing him to translate historical events into emotionally resonant drama. As co‑writer of Truth & Treason, Vincent helped shape the screenplay’s balance of factual fidelity and narrative propulsion, ensuring that the story of Helmuth Hübener and his friends remained both historically grounded and dramatically compelling. His broader body of work reflects a commitment to stories that illuminate the moral crossroads individuals face in moments of crisis, and his collaboration with Whitaker on this film represents a continuation of his dedication to storytelling that is both socially conscious and deeply human.
Self-Tasks that you must research and complete in your own time.
Tasks that you must submit to your coach to make sure that you are on the right track – during this process, your coach is there to help you understand the material and solve problems.
STEP ONE: Who Are You as a Storyteller? Before crafting your masterwork, start by understanding your identity as a writer. Begin with the fundamentals of storytelling and how inspiration shapes creativity.
STEP TWO: What Does It Take to Be a Writer? Take a reflective journey to uncover your personal strengths and challenges as a writer. Discover your place in the creative universe by exploring the mediums you’re capable of writing for and identifying those that will best showcase your story.
STEP THREE: Knowing What to Write. Now it is time to explore what you want to write. A great story starts with a compelling idea that captures the imagination and lays the foundation for a captivating story. Before you can put one word on paper, you must know what and who your story is about. Research is the Foundation of Your Story.
STEP FOUR: Genre and Worldbuilding. Before you start developing the idea you have for a story, you need to know what genre you want to set your story in and what type of story you want to write. Worldbuilding gives your story its gravitational pull; it shapes the rules, textures, histories, and emotional logic of the world your characters inhabit. This becomes essential when choosing your genre.
STEP FIVE: Premise, Concept, and Title Begin with a seed—a strong premise that anchors your story and sells its soul. The premise spotlights the central conflict, while the concept or logline captures motion: a character, in a place, doing something, and wanting something. It’s the heartbeat of your pitch. And don’t forget the title—it’s your story’s first impression and its silent promise.
STEP SIX: Thematic Purpose Once you have something you want to write about (Idea), have defined the Premise and Concept, and know what your Genre is, you need to know what the intention, objective or controlling idea (theme) of your story is.
Story is what happens. Plot is how the what happens. Character is who the what happens to. Setting is where the what happens. Theme is why the what happens
STEP SEVEN: Who Are You Writing About? Now it is time to focus on the people who live your story. All memorable and successful films have one thing in common. Not genre. Not budgets. Not even a good story. They all have memorable characters that have become part of our culture. The protagonist, antagonists and villains, supporting and function characters, the elements that build character, visual dynamics, dialogue, character biographies, and research all work together to shape a compelling and fully realised story world.
STEP EIGHT: Structure and Plot Now it’s time to explore the importance of structure, the relationship between character and structure, the relationship between structure and the story, composition – the ordering and linking of scenes, turning points, transitional values. You will also explore what a plot represents, different genre plots, and four traditional plots to structure your story. You will also take a closer look at 13 structural points /structural signposts that will help you to write a solid story outline. The structural points will ensure that theme, character, and plot are united.
STEP NINE: Story and Scene Outline. Now it’s time for you to write a story outline. The function of your story outline is to identify the story events (scenes) of the most important events in your protagonist’s life. The function/ goal of the scene outline is to build and dramatise each story event, and to explore the exterior and internal lives of your story.
STEP TEN: Format as Form Once you’ve outlined your story, you’re ready to start writing the first draft of your story. Before you dive into writing, it’s crucial to understand the importance of properly formatting your draft.
STEP ELEVEN: The First Breath of the Story You’ve shaped your world, your characters, and your structure. Now, begin. Write your first draft with purpose, knowing it’s the beginning, not the end. Trust that the story knows the way forward.
STEP TWELVE: Taking Ownership of the Page As you complete your first draft, you become the proud guardian of your creation—words, images, characters, and dialogue that pulse with your vision. Now it’s time to take ownership. Learn how to protect your intellectual property, write a confident and professional top sheet, and position your screenplay for the market. Selling your story means selling yourself—with clarity, intention, and pride.
You’ll then write the first 10 pages of your story and submit it with a Top Sheet to your coach for evaluation before you continue writing your first draft. Your coach will also be available for questions during the process of writing your draft and keep you updated with relevant features on the world of writing and filmmaking.
HOW DOES THE ONLINE COURSE WORK?
Once we receive your registration form and deposit details you are ready to take the journey.
You will have the choice of commencing at your own pace or work according to set deadlines.
The course is done online, via email, offering a one-on-one interaction between yourself and your coach.
There are 12 units (with sub-sections); each section consists of user-friendly and comprehensive notes that include self-tasks (which you complete at your own time), and a task.
You will read through the notes which include self-activities (for you to complete in your own space and at your own pace) and tasks (for you to complete and forward via email).
Once your coach has read through your task and there are no questions about the specific unit, you commence to the next step.
COST
The cost of the correspondence course is R5000.00. This includes comprehensive notes on the 12 units, as well as one-on-one feedback, interactive correspondence and assistance during the course via email. As of the most recent exchange rates, R5000.00 is approximately $300 in US Dollars, €250 in Euros, £250 in British Pounds, and A$450 in Australian Dollars.
These values are estimates and may vary slightly depending on the currency converter or bank rates used. Since exchange rates fluctuate daily, especially with economic shifts or market dynamics, it’s wise to consult a live converter or set up alerts if you’re budgeting for travel, transactions, or pricing international content.
Daniel Dercksen is the driving force behind the independent training initiative, The Writing Studio and a published film and theatre journalist with 40 years of experience. Since founding the studio in 1999, he has taught workshops and courses in creative writing, playwriting, and screenwriting across South Africa. During the past 25 years, The Writing Studio has guided many leading South African storytellers from their first ideas to success—whether on the big screen or through publishing their novels locally and internationally. READ MORE
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on O’ Romeo: Vishal Bhardwaj’s Gritty, Lyrical Reimagining of Love and Power
O’ Romeo stands as one of the most anticipated and thematically charged films in contemporary Indian cinema—a visceral collision of crime, romance, and psychological drama shaped by the singular vision of Vishal Bhardwaj, who both wrote and directed the film.
In a cinematic landscape often dominated by spectacle, O’ Romeo stands out for its emotional intelligence, its moral complexity, and its refusal to offer easy answers. It is a film about power—who wields it, who suffers under it, and who dares to challenge it. It is a film about love—not the idealised version celebrated in popular culture, but the messy, dangerous, transformative force that can both save and destroy. And it is a film about storytelling itself: how myths are born, how they evolve, and how they shape the lives of those who live in their shadow.
O’ Romeo is not merely a crime drama or a tragic romance—it is a cinematic reckoning. Through Bhardwaj’s masterful direction, Narula’s sharp writing, and the cast’s emotionally charged performances, the film becomes a meditation on fate, violence, and the fragile hope that flickers even in the darkest corners of human experience. It is a story that lingers, not because it offers comfort, but because it dares to confront the contradictions at the heart of love and power.
Known for his acclaimed Shakespeare trilogy (Maqbool, Omkara, Haider), Bhardwaj returns to familiar terrain: the intersection of classic emotional architecture and the violent, morally ambiguous world of the Indian underworld.
Co‑written with Rohan Narula, the film draws inspiration from Hussain Zaidi’s nonfiction book Mafia Queens of Mumbai, particularly the chapter on Ashraf Khan, also known as Sapna Didi, a woman whose life was shaped by loss, vengeance, and the brutal codes of Mumbai’s criminal landscape. The result is a film that blends fact and fiction, myth and realism, and the timeless ache of forbidden love with the harsh logic of survival.
Set in the turbulent decades following India’s independence, O’ Romeo reimagines the emotional core of Romeo and Juliet within the world of gang wars, political alliances, and the shifting power structures of Mumbai’s underworld. The film stars Shahid Kapoor as Hussain Ustara, a feared and charismatic gangster whose reputation is built on precision, ruthlessness, and a code of honour that isolates him from the world he dominates. Opposite him is Triptii Dimri as Afsha, a woman whose life has been shaped by violence and whose path intersects with Ustara’s in ways that are both tender and catastrophic. Their relationship becomes the film’s emotional axis—a love story forged in danger, shadowed by betrayal, and destined to collide with forces far larger than themselves.
A Vision Rooted in Literature, History, and Bhardwaj’s Own Cinematic Language
The inspiration for O’ Romeo is layered. At its foundation lies Zaidi’s Mafia Queens of Mumbai, a book that chronicles the lives of women who navigated, shaped, and sometimes ruled the city’s criminal underworld. Bhardwaj has long been drawn to stories that explore the psychology of power—how individuals negotiate identity, morality, and survival within systems designed to crush them. The figure of Sapna Didi, whose real‑life story involves revenge against the notorious gangster Dawood Ibrahim, offered fertile ground for a filmmaker fascinated by moral complexity and emotional contradiction. But O’ Romeo is not a biopic. Instead, Bhardwaj uses the emotional scaffolding of Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet—the inevitability, the longing, the tragic collision of love and fate—to deepen the narrative. This is not a retelling but a reframing: the doomed romance becomes a lens through which to explore the cost of violence, the fragility of tenderness in a brutal world, and the ways in which love becomes both salvation and curse. Bhardwaj’s Shakespearean adaptations have always been less about fidelity to plot and more about emotional resonance, and O’ Romeo continues this tradition with a raw, contemporary urgency.
A Production That Mirrors the Film’s Ambition
Shot across Mumbai and Spain, the film’s visual palette—crafted by cinematographer Ben Bernhard—is both gritty and operatic. The Mumbai sequences capture the claustrophobic intensity of the underworld, while the Spanish landscapes offer a surreal, dreamlike counterpoint that reflects the characters’ inner turmoil. Bhardwaj’s own music, with lyrics by Gulzar, infuses the film with emotional depth, blending haunting melodies with percussive tension. The soundtrack becomes a narrative force, echoing the characters’ desires, fears, and inevitable descent.
The film’s development was not without controversy. The family of Hussain Ustara raised concerns about representation, requesting a pre‑screening to ensure accuracy. This tension between artistic interpretation and real‑life legacy underscores the film’s thematic preoccupation with truth, myth, and the stories we inherit or resist.
Vishal Bhardwaj is one of India’s most distinctive and influential filmmakers—a writer, director, composer, and producer whose work blends literary depth with cinematic boldness. Born in 1965 in Uttar Pradesh, he began his creative life as a music composer, scoring acclaimed films throughout the 1990s before transitioning into direction with Makdee (2002). His breakthrough came with Maqbool (2003), the first of his celebrated Shakespeare trilogy, followed by Omkara (2006) and Haider (2014). These films established him as a master of adaptation, known for transplanting classic texts into the political and emotional landscapes of contemporary India. Bhardwaj’s cinema is marked by moral complexity, atmospheric world‑building, and a fascination with characters caught between desire, violence, and fate. Alongside his filmmaking, he is an award‑winning composer whose long‑standing collaboration with lyricist Gulzar has produced some of modern Hindi cinema’s most memorable soundtracks. With O’ Romeo (2026), Bhardwaj continues his exploration of love, power, and tragedy, reaffirming his place as a storyteller who marries literary intelligence with visceral cinematic craft.
Pretty How Town is poised to captivate audiences nationwide with its comedic yet heartfelt narrative. Written by Richard Starkey and directed by Alan Shelley, this upcoming film promises to be a compelling reflection on grief, identity, and the bonds that tie us to our origins.
When Victoria, a transgender woman, returns to her remote South African hometown to care for her dying mother, she steps into a minefield of buried secrets, strained family ties, and a community that barely remembers, or chooses not to. Posing as a cousin to ease her re-entry, she crosses paths with a grieving doctor, a wary old flame, and a teenage boy who might unknowingly share her blood. As identities blur and truths unravel, Victoria must face the past she left behind and the person she’s become in a town struggling to keep up.
Pretty How Town is a comic, quietly radical story about belonging, forgiveness, and the courage it takes to come home as yourself.’
Director Alan Shelley describes the film as “a comedy about the grief that follows any big change.” He believes the project resonates well with audiences, stating, “When we let pain fester into disappointment and bitterness that becomes our identity. … I believe our work will resonate with people in its gentle, unassuming way.” The film balances the bitter with the sweet, presenting a narrative that expresses the importance of allowing space for mourning, all while maintaining a sense of hope and renewal.
Produced by Margaret Zambonini alongside Hisham Samie and Irfaan Fredericks, the project is the collaborative effort of multiple production houses, including Benchfilms, Ardenslate, and Wallflower Productions. Zambonini reflects on the film’s central themes, noting that it encourages individuals to explore the notion of stepping away from their communities and families to truly discover themselves. “Working with a world-class South African cast and crew brought forth an incredible dedication that was palpable throughout the project,” she said.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on GR 10 D: A Raw, Riotous, and Unapologetically South African Coming‑of‑Age Explosion
GR 10 D, written by Shumelani Mapholi and directed by Joseph Muthaphuli, arrives as one of the most vibrant, chaotic, and culturally specific South African films of the decade—a kinetic blend of comedy, drama, social critique, and adolescent rebellion.
Set entirely over the course of a single school day, the film follows four students in Grade 10D, a class notorious for being “the worst in the history of the school.” What unfolds is a fast‑paced, sharply observed portrait of youth navigating a system that has already decided who they are, and who they will never be. The film marks a significant moment for local cinema: a homegrown story told with humour, grit, and an unfiltered honesty that resonates deeply with South African audiences.
At its core, GR 10 D is inspired by the lived realities of township and inner‑city schooling—spaces where overcrowded classrooms, under‑resourced facilities, and exhausted teachers collide with the boundless energy, creativity, and defiance of youth. Mapholi’s screenplay draws from the rhythms of everyday school life: the gossip, the hustles, the small rebellions, the friendships forged under pressure, and the constant negotiation between survival and self‑expression. The film’s inspiration is not a single event but a tapestry of experiences familiar to anyone who has passed through a South African public school. It captures the absurdity, the humour, the danger, and the tenderness of adolescence in a system stretched to breaking point.
The narrative follows four students—each with their own secrets, ambitions, and frustrations—as they navigate a day filled with unscrupulous teachers, sexual tension, peer pressure, drugs, and the looming threat of a maths test that none of them are prepared for. The film’s structure, unfolding over a single day, heightens the sense of urgency and chaos. Every moment feels like a small explosion waiting to happen. Yet beneath the humour and the mayhem lies a deeper emotional truth: these students are fighting to be seen, to be heard, and to carve out a future in a world that often dismisses them before they begin.
Joseph Muthaphuli’s direction is energetic and immersive. He shoots the school environment with a documentary‑like immediacy, capturing the noise, the movement, and the unpredictable rhythms of teenage life. The camera lingers on faces, hallways, graffiti, and the small details that define the world of the film. Muthaphuli’s approach is both affectionate and unflinching—he refuses to romanticise the environment, but he also refuses to reduce it to despair. Instead, he finds beauty in the chaos, humour in the struggle, and dignity in the resilience of his characters.
The film’s inspiration also lies in a desire to challenge stereotypes about South African youth. Too often, stories about township schools focus solely on violence, poverty, or failure. GR 10 D acknowledges these realities but refuses to let them define its characters. The students of Grade 10D are messy, funny, flawed, brilliant, reckless, and deeply human. They are not symbols—they are people. Mapholi’s writing gives them agency, complexity, and emotional depth. Their mistakes are not moral failures but survival strategies. Their humour is not a distraction but a coping mechanism. Their defiance is not delinquency but a refusal to be erased.
One of the film’s most striking elements is its portrayal of teachers—not as villains, but as products of the same broken system. The “unscrupulous teachers” the students face are not caricatures; they are exhausted, underpaid, overwhelmed, and sometimes corrupt. The film suggests that the failures of the education system are systemic, not individual. Everyone is struggling. Everyone is improvising. Everyone is trying to survive the day. This nuanced portrayal adds emotional weight to the story, reminding viewers that the classroom is a microcosm of the country itself.
The significance of GR 10 D extends far beyond its narrative. It represents a bold step forward for South African cinema, particularly in the realm of youth‑focused storytelling. While international audiences often associate South African film with heavy historical dramas or crime thrillers, GR 10 D offers something different: a contemporary, character‑driven story rooted in everyday life. It speaks to a generation that has grown up in the digital age, navigating identity, sexuality, mental health, and social pressure in ways that older generations may not fully understand.
The film also contributes to a growing movement of African filmmakers reclaiming their own narratives. Instead of looking outward for validation, GR 10 D looks inward—toward the lived experiences of South African youth, the humour of local slang, the rhythms of township life, and the contradictions of a country still grappling with inequality. It is a film that feels authentically South African, not because it tries to be, but because it simply is.
Culturally, the film resonates because it captures a moment in time. South Africa in the 2020s is a place of immense possibility and immense frustration. Young people are caught between the promises of democracy and the realities of unemployment, inequality, and institutional failure. GR 10 D does not offer solutions, but it offers recognition. It says: We see you. We know what you’re going through. Your story matters. That recognition alone is powerful.
Artistically, the film stands out for its tonal balance. It is funny without being frivolous, serious without being heavy‑handed, and chaotic without losing narrative focus. The humour is sharp, often biting, and deeply rooted in South African comedic tradition. The dramatic moments land with emotional force because they emerge naturally from the characters’ experiences. The film’s pacing—tight, energetic, and unpredictable—mirrors the emotional rollercoaster of adolescence.
In the broader landscape of South African cinema, GR 10 D is significant because it expands the range of stories being told. It proves that local films can be youthful, irreverent, contemporary, and commercially appealing without sacrificing depth or authenticity. It also highlights the talent of emerging filmmakers like Muthaphuli and Mapholi, whose voices bring fresh perspectives to the industry.
Ultimately, GR 10 D is a film about survival—not in the dramatic sense, but in the everyday sense. Surviving school. Surviving expectations. Surviving boredom, pressure, hormones, and the feeling that the world is stacked against you. It is a film about friendship, rebellion, and the small acts of courage that define adolescence. It is a film that understands that sometimes the most radical thing a young person can do is simply make it through the day.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Wuthering Heights: In conversation with writer-director-producer Emerald Fennell
A bold and original interpretation of one of the greatest love stories of all time, Emerald Fennell’s Wuthering Heights is an intoxicating epic tale of lust, love and madness. Fennell directs from her own screenplay based on the novel Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë.
On the impact this story had on you and why you felt compelled to bring it to the screen…
I have always had a physical response to this book. I think the thing that is endlessly wonderful about Wuthering Heights, really, is Emily Brontë and who she was as an artist. She was a poet, a transcendentally genius poet, and her work connects to people in a way that very few things do. So really what I wanted to do was acknowledge my connection to it, to the way that it made me feel, and know that it wouldn’t necessarily be the way that it made every reader feel. I wanted to make something that was an approximation of the feeling it had given me the very first time I read it, boiling down the things about the book that I found exciting and subversive, the things that are still making people feel something two centuries later. Because I love the book so much, it felt exciting to see if I could make a version that I would accept as a fan. And then obviously it was a shameless excuse to work with everyone I love, both on the crew and this incredible cast.
On what you want audiences to take away from the movie…
This is not a didactic film; it takes no moral position. The book itself is radical in its refusal to judge its characters—that’s what made it so disturbing to people when it was first published, and it’s still shocking to them now. What I’m really interested in as an audience member, and in life in general really, is: What are the things that we do when nobody else is watching? What’s the dynamic that’s the most surprising or troubling? Where is the power in the room, who’s got it, and what happens if we invert that power? As a director I’m looking to get into a space where you are looking at the most interesting, the most alive, the most complicated version of everything. The book is extraordinary because it absorbs you into it, it swallows you up, so that is the feeling we endeavored to recreate for a movie audience.
On what Margot Robbie brings to the iconic role of Cathy…
Margot is absolutely extraordinary. The thing about casting is finding the root of this person and what do they make you feel and how can that be used and subverted in an interesting way as this character? For me, Cathy is like Estella from Great Expectations, or Scarlett O’Hara from Gone with the Wind. She’s spoiled, capricious, fierce, a “belle dame sans merci,” a movie star stuck in the middle of nowhere with no audience. She’s deeply feeling, funny, her emotions are gigantic, but Brontë is very specific and says again and again in the book that Cathy likes to hurt people, she enjoys pushing to see how far she can get away with something and still be forgiven: she’s something of a sadist.
So she’s got this dangerous charisma and willfulness, this interest in cruelty, and this vanity, and the only thing that makes her forgivable in many ways is her love for Heathcliff. Margot is able to encapsulate all of this. Cathy needed to be played with someone with their own dangerous, life-ruining beauty and charisma. The moment Margot first read Cathy’s words you immediately understood who this person was, and why everyone around her would forgive her anything. Margot is so deeply talented, and she’s also wild in many of the same ways as Cathy: she’s deeply feeling, she’s naughty, she’s clever, she’s powerful, if she wanted to she could be fucking scary. That’s a woman you want to spend time with.
On what Jacob Elordi brings to the iconic role of Heathcliff…
Heathcliff is the archetypical, Byronic hero, a despicable love interest. He’s defensive, angry, cruel, dangerous, but he’s also one of the most devastatingly moving characters in literature. Gathering all of those things together is tough and, like Cathy, it required an actor who could make us love the unlovable. Jacob is extraordinary in that way, I knew he could communicate the tenderness, the depth of feeling, the loneliness of Heathcliff as well as his copious flaws. His work is so detailed, so specific, and it’s also so effortless. In Saltburn his brief was similar: make this boy—who on paper we should hate—the most loveable person in the world. It’s not easy to do, and both Margot and Jacob had to walk the razor thin line that Brontë set out, with villain on one side, and hero on the other.
On the rest of your terrific ensemble?
Hong Chau—I’ve just been completely and utterly obsessed with her forever, but in Kinds of Kindness, I couldn’t take my eyes off her. Her work is so seamless. She’s funny and clever and detailed. Nelly is one of the most complicated characters in the film—also walking that line between good and bad—so it required someone with Hong’s genius to pull us in all those different directions.
It was the same with Shazad Latif. I saw him in What’s Love Got to Do With It, this amazing British romcom, and he was just extraordinary. He was just such a credible romantic lead—funny, gorgeous, un-cheesy, which is one of the hardest things to do. Edgar Linton needed to be a real threat to Heathcliff, someone who made the audience instantly recognize Cathy’s predicament. Edgar isn’t only rich, he is kind, he’s patient, he’s educated and he is pulling Cathy towards the modern world. Shazad makes Edgar so instantly delightful, but also so relatable, and so heartbreaking; he’s a romantic hero in his own right. Alison Oliver is sublime, just so deeply talented, and her Isabella is showstopping: so funny, so complicated, so frightening, so vulnerable, so unbelievably relatable. I don’t think anyone could have played the part but her. And Martin Clunes—one of the greats, an impossibly good actor and an impossibly difficult part. I think he’s a master craftsman.
On your amazing creative team…
I’ve just been so lucky to work with people like Jacqueline [Durran] and Suzie [Davis] and Linus [Sandgren] and Siân [Miller], and everyone who has worked on this movie. It’s magical to find the kind of connectedness that makes you all able to translate an idea visually. On every aspect of production, we were constantly feeling out where the edges were, where the pleasure centers were, where the cliff edge was (and often going off them!). Does a scene have the “squeal factor,” does it make us swoon, or recoil? If we have a physical response to a room, or a fabric, or mis en scene, then so will the audience. Pushing boundaries, putting things under just the right amount of duress, just before they break, that’s where the interest is for all of us. Drama is friction. Love is friction.
On the benefits of going “old school”…
Everything is handmade and shot in-camera. The fun of making something from scratch, and why we wanted to make a kind of old school studio movie, is that you can decide everything, even where the windows go so you can control the light and create your shots from early on, and so on. And when you know who your cast are really early, you can start thinking about the little details of their costume well in advance.
On the minutest details costume designer Jacqueline Durran and production designer Suzie Davies deliver…
Oh, they are simply brilliant. Cathy’s costumes are just mind blowing. Jacqueline and I started with hundreds—possibly thousands—of images, until we started to feel the repeated elements: the shapes, the textures, the details that made us feel for the characters. For Cathy, she was sharper, bolder, a femme fatale in silhouette and texture; she takes up space, she is the focus of every room she is in. For Isabella she was softer, pinker, frillier. Isabella’s extremely repressed. She’s been kept by Edgar in this sort of permanent girlhood, but she’s obviously absolutely throbbing with desire. And so those rosettes on her costumes, along with everything she makes, all of her crafts projects are inadvertently pornographic. You want to make a movie where every single detail speaks volumes about character.
With Suzie it was a similar process. With the house Wuthering Heights, we wanted it to feel like a place that is being taken over by a hostile landscape. It’s sliced in half by huge slate rocks. And as it ages it becomes more malignant, it starts to crack, things start to ooze out of it. In the gothic everything is alive, so we wanted that to extend to the sets.
If Wuthering Heights is a place where nature is thrusting itself into the man-made, Thrushcross Grange is a place which attempts to do the opposite: to constrain nature. Cathy’s room is made of her “skin”—we printed Margot’s skin (veins and freckles included) onto padded fabric with a sheer latex overlay, and trapped it inside panels. The drawing room is made of the inside of a geode, the library is Edgar’s “collectors” room, where all of nature is tastefully encased. This was a very Victorian preoccupation: taking the wild and attempting to tame it. We spent a lot of time looking at hairwork, flower pressing, taxidermy. Natural things made grotesque by human intervention, which is really the central idea of the book.
On what global music artist Charli xcx brings to the soundscape of this film…
I’ve been obsessed with Charli xcx since I first knew about her, when she was I think like 15 and making stuff in her bedroom. I just think she’s so unbelievably talented. Her song “Boys” is the first song in Promising Young Woman, which I had written into the script, I love it so much. To me, music is especially important if you want to elicit a physical reaction, to get people to feel something, and on this film we wanted audiences to feel so deeply. But it can be quite difficult to make music for something that is set in a certain period. You have to decide what your boundaries are. I sent the script to Charli with a view to asking her simply if she had an emotional response to it, would she like to make a song about it? It wasn’t even like, “here’s the scene.” It was just, “what does this make you feel?” And she called me and asked if she could do an album. Of course I said yes. And then she just started sending me just the most incredible things that were new, sexy, emotionally engaging. I think that’s the thing that’s so wonderful about getting to work on a movie like this—you are just looking for people to collaborate with you, to give them a lot of space to make stuff and to have a response and not to be too prescriptive. It’s just been the most thrilling thing in the world, and it’s now my favorite album of all time.
On what you hope audiences—whether they’ve read the book or not—will experience when they see the film…
Nobody should be sitting in silence watching this movie. Our “WUTHERING HEIGHTS” is a period romance but it’s not niche. It’s a grand, epic, multi-plex movie based on what I believe is the greatest love story ever written. The cinema is a place to connect, and we’re giving audiences a way to feel something, to unleash any emotions they’ve been stifling. To reclaim romance via a devastatingly sexy film from a sexy book—as sexy a book as could’ve been at that time, and it still is today. Emily Brontë’s story gets under your skin. No matter how many times I’ve read it I find things that are new, or remember something that I can no longer find, and that destabilises me as much as it did when I first read it. It has, for all these years, stirred my imaginings in ways nothing else has, and I hope when people see the film—whether they know the book or not—they feel destabilised, disoriented. I hope it gets under their skin in the very best way and that they leave the cinema feeling electrified.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Wuthering Heights – A Fierce, Fevered Reimagining of a Gothic Classic
Wuthering Heights arrives as one of the most anticipated literary adaptations of the decade—a bold, sensuous, and psychologically charged retelling of Emily Brontë’s 1847 novel, written and directed by Emerald Fennell.
It’s not simply another adaptation of a beloved novel. It is a bold, fevered, and uncompromising reimagining shaped by Emerald Fennell’s singular vision. With its powerhouse cast, atmospheric world‑building, and willingness to embrace the novel’s darkest impulses, the film stands poised to become one of the defining cinematic events of 2026. It challenges, provokes, and enthrals—much like Brontë’s original work—and reasserts the enduring power of Gothic storytelling in a modern world hungry for emotional intensity and artistic daring.
How Emerald Fennell tells a visual story.
“There’s a lot of detail in what Emerald does, and I don’t think she ever wants anything in frame that isn’t telling its own story,” says producer Josey McNamara. “There is an otherness that only exists in her mind, and that influences everything from the costume design, set dressing, to the color palette. For anything that is ever on screen, there has been a conversation about the emotional reason for it, with whoever heads the department that provides that element. I think that for everything she does, there’s also a very personal connection, and you can see her vision within it. Tone is such an important thing for Emerald as well; she always weaves together humor, drama, thrilling aspects, sexual dynamics. She has a very unique tone and one that I think audiences connect with because she is all about the journey that someone goes on when they watch one of her movies. And she’s always willing to push the boundary of what that experience is and what those emotions are. What was clear from our first conversation for “Wuthering Heights” was how personal the story was to her and how her vision had evolved over years of re-reading. For Emerald, it wasn’t simply just adapting the novel, but instead an opportunity to interpret a literary work that has meant so much to her for so long. It is a bold and original imagining of one of the greatest love stories of all time, and an incredibly visceral experience.”
The film stars Margot Robbie as Catherine Earnshaw and Jacob Elordi as Heathcliff, anchoring a production that blends prestige filmmaking with a daring contemporary edge. Fennell’s adaptation is not a polite period piece but a visceral, storm‑soaked exploration of obsession, cruelty, and the destructive power of love—an approach that has already stirred conversation, controversy, and intense curiosity.
A Vision Shaped by Emerald Fennell
Fennell—already known for Promising Young Woman and Saltburn—brings her signature blend of psychological intensity, stylized sensuality, and moral ambiguity to Brontë’s world. Her screenplay is described as “loosely inspired” by the novel, giving her room to reinterpret the material while preserving its emotional core.
Her approach is deliberately unromanticized. Rather than smoothing the novel’s jagged edges, Fennell leans into the brutality of Catherine and Heathcliff’s relationship, portraying them as deeply flawed, volatile individuals whose love is as destructive as it is magnetic. This aligns with the novel’s original spirit—raw, unsettling, and defiantly unconventional—while allowing Fennell to explore themes of identity, class, and desire through a modern cinematic lens.
What Inspired the Film?
The inspiration for this adaptation is rooted in both the enduring power of Brontë’s novel and Fennell’s fascination with characters who defy moral clarity. Wuthering Heights has always been a story about outsiders, obsession, and the corrosive effects of generational trauma. Fennell’s previous work demonstrates a deep interest in characters who exist at the margins of social acceptability—figures who are seductive, dangerous, and emotionally volatile. Heathcliff and Catherine fit naturally into this thematic lineage.
The film also draws inspiration from the cultural moment. Gothic literature has seen a resurgence in popular culture, and audiences have shown a renewed appetite for psychologically complex, morally ambiguous stories. The casting of Robbie and Elordi—two actors associated with intense, stylized, and emotionally charged roles—signals a desire to reinterpret the novel for a generation attuned to darker, more provocative storytelling.
Music plays a significant role in shaping the film’s tone. Pop icon Charli XCX contributes original songs, including “House,” “Chains of Love,” and “Wall of Sound,” which infuse the adaptation with a contemporary, atmospheric edge. Her involvement suggests that Fennell’s vision is not merely historical but a hybrid of period drama and modern emotional sensibility.
A Cast That Reimagines the Myth
Margot Robbie’s Catherine is described as emotionally intense, conflicted, and torn between social expectations and her own unruly desires. Her casting has generated enormous buzz, not only because of her star power but because of her history collaborating with Fennell. Robbie previously produced Promising Young Woman and Saltburn, and her creative partnership with Fennell adds depth and continuity to the project.
“I read the script, and it was my very first experience with Cathy and Heathcliff and this world, and I had no preconceptions, really, other than knowing that this is a literary classic. And Emerald’s writing, whether she’s writing a love story or a revenge story, whatever she’s writing, it’s so gripping and it’s so well-constructed. She really is a genius screenplay writer. Reading any of her scripts is thrilling no matter what, because she is so disciplined with story structure, character development, all those things. And she does it in a way that makes you feel like you just fell into this world, this fever dream, and you got caught up in it. I couldn’t put it down, and I was so changed after reading. I was sobbing, for one thing, but I couldn’t help reliving parts of the script. I kept going back to it and kept wanting to experience it again.”
Jacob Elordi’s Heathcliff has sparked both excitement and controversy. The novel describes Heathcliff as racially ambiguous, and casting a white actor has reignited long‑standing debates about representation. Yet Elordi’s brooding screen presence and psychological intensity make him a compelling choice for a character defined by rage, longing, and alienation.
“Heathcliff is the original outcast. Shouted at, hit, spurned by his father and the world at large. From the start he’s bracing for impact at any time, so his physicality is protective, curled up. The way the set was built, it was like the world he knew, cold, isolating, closing in on him. Cathy was the only source of light or warmth, but he’s still told he’s not one of them. After he comes back to Wuthering Heights, he stands tall. He has autonomy, his clothes complement him. He has money, which makes him their equal. It was a good arc to play. I hope this film reignites passion in people and reminds us how much we miss love, need love, want love… Help us dream of future loves and recall past ones or unrequited ones. And not just romantic love, because Emerald has delivered an all-encompassing take on this one vital emotion that people today sometimes think it’s better to hide from or turn away from. I hope it unlocks that part inside us all.”
A Production Marked by Ambition
The film’s development was itself dramatic. A bidding war erupted in 2024, with Netflix offering $150 million for distribution rights. Ultimately, Warner Bros. secured the film for a significantly lower amount, granting Fennell and Robbie the theatrical release they insisted upon. This decision underscores the filmmakers’ belief that Wuthering Heights demands the scale, immersion, and communal experience of cinema.
Cinematographer Linus Sandgren brings sweeping, elemental visuals to the Yorkshire moors, capturing the landscape as a character in its own right—wild, unforgiving, and symbolic of the emotional storms at the story’s center. The film’s 136‑minute runtime allows Fennell to explore the novel’s intergenerational structure while maintaining a tight focus on the central relationship.
Why This Adaptation Matters
The significance of Wuthering Heights (2026) lies in its refusal to sanitize or soften Brontë’s vision. Many earlier adaptations have leaned into the romance, but Fennell’s version restores the novel’s Gothic ferocity. This is a story about obsession, cruelty, and the destructive cycles that families inherit and repeat. By embracing these themes, the film challenges audiences to confront the darker dimensions of love and desire.
Its release during Valentine’s season is a deliberate provocation. While the date typically belongs to lighthearted romances, Wuthering Heights offers a counter‑narrative: love as possession, love as torment, love as a force that can consume rather than uplift. This contrast positions the film as both a cultural event and a commentary on the stories we tell about passion.
The adaptation also speaks to contemporary conversations about class, identity, and the outsider experience. Heathcliff’s ambiguous origins, Catherine’s divided loyalties, and the rigid social structures of their world resonate with modern audiences navigating questions of belonging and self‑definition. Finally, the film’s significance lies in its artistic ambition. Fennell is one of the most distinctive voices in contemporary cinema, and her decision to tackle a literary classic signals a desire to redefine what prestige adaptations can be—less museum pieces, more living, breathing, emotionally dangerous works of art.
EMERALD FENNELL (Writer/Director/Producer) is an Academy Award, BAFTA, Critics’ Choice, SAG and WGA Award-winner, and a Golden Globe, Emmy, DGA and PGA nominated filmmaker, writer, director, actress and author who established herself as a prolific multihyphenate in film, television and theatre. As well as an advocate for women’s voices within the film industry.
Emerald’s previous film, the critically acclaimed comedy-drama thriller Saltburn, which she wrote, directed and produced with LuckyChap Entertainment and MRC, starred Rosamund Pike, Jacob Elordi, Barry Keoghan and Richard E. Grant. The film follows student Oliver Quick (Keoghan), struggling to find his place at Oxford University, and finds himself drawn into the world of the charming and aristocratic Felix Catton (Elordi), who invites him to Saltburn, his eccentric family’s sprawling estate for a summer never to be forgotten. Saltburn had one of the most successful limited releases in 2023 in the domestic box office and left an indelible mark on the cultural zeitgeist of 2023. The film also went on to be nominated for five BAFTA Awards, three Critics’ Choice Awards and two Golden Globe Awards.
Fennell’s feature directorial and screenplay debut, Promising Young Woman, which she also produced, was released in theatres December 25 2020 from Focus Features. The film stars Carey Mulligan, who received a Best Actress Academy Award nomination for her role, and was a breakout success out of the 2020 Sundance Film Festival. Fennell’s feminist, timely take on the revenge genre was recognized as one of the top scripts of the 2018 Blacklist. She was later nominated for three Academy Awards, including Best Picture and Best Director, and won the Best Original Screenplay, received two Golden Globe nominations for Best Screenplay and Best Director, six BAFTA nominations including Best Film and winning for Outstanding British Film and Original Screenplay, as well as DGA, PGA and WGA nominations and won two Film independent Spirit Awards for Best Director and Best Screenplay.
In 2021, Fennell wrote the contemporary musical stage version of ‘Cinderella’ alongside Andrew Lloyd Webber, which debuted at the Gillian Lynne Theatre in London’s West End. The show continued its run on Broadway in March of 2023 under the name ‘Bad Cinderella’ at the Imperial Theatre in New York.
Her debut short, Careful How You Go, which she wrote and directed, premiered at Sundance in 2019. She also served as the showrunner on season two of Killing Eve, for which she was nominated for two Emmys and the show was nominated for a Golden Globe.
In front of the camera, she could be seen alongside Margot Robbie and Ryan Gosling in Greta Gerwig’s Barbie which released in 2023 from Warner Bros. Fennell starred in season three and four of Netflix’s award-winning drama series, The Crown, playing Camilla Parker Bowles, for which she has received rave reviews, an Emmy nomination for Outstanding Supporting Actress in a Drama Series, and the series won the SAG Award for Outstanding Performance by an Ensemble in a Drama Series. Other recent on-camera film credits include The Danish Girl, Pan and Anna Karenina.
Off screen, Fennell has published three novels: ‘Shiverton Hall’ along with the sequel, ‘The Creeper’ and ‘Monsters’ (2017 Carnegie Medal nominee), all of which were incredibly well received and drew comparisons ranging from Roald Dahl to Bret Easton Ellis.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Goat – Reimagining the Underdog Myth in a New Era of Animated Sports Storytelling
The animated sports comedy Goat arrives as a vibrant fusion of underdog grit, kinetic world‑building, and contemporary sports mythology.
Directed by Tyree Dillihay and written by Aaron Buchsbaum and Teddy Riley, from a story by Nicolas Curcio and Peter Chiarelli, the film represents a rare intersection of animation, athletics, and aspirational storytelling—one that positions the humble goat as a symbol of perseverance, reinvention, and the audacity to dream beyond one’s limits.
“‘GOAT’ is a generation-defining underdog story,” says director Tyree Dillihay. “Great sports movies are emotional, inspirational, and transcendent. They inspire people to want to strive to be great. I love that about our story. But it’s also funny. This idea of rhinos, polar bears and this tiny goat–with their oversized bling, tunnel walks and signature sneakers–dribbling, dunking or setting picks made me laugh out loud from the beginning.”
Four-time NBA champion Stephen Curry, who’s a producer for the film, wanted to showcase the world of sports on and off the court. “We included the accessories, the clothes, a dope soundtrack–the cultural references that everybody can laugh at and appreciate,” he says. “This is a timeless story–if you watch it 20 years from now, you’ll go back to a moment in time. We’re super excited to have those relatable references throughout the entire movie.”
Set in an all-animal world where “bigs” and “smalls” live side by side, the film introduces a wild game called roarball—a co-ed, high-octane sport played on dynamic, oversized courts that feature natural obstacles ranging from writhing vines to cracking sheets of ice. The game is dominated by the most powerful animals in the world. “They can make use of all of their animal attributes,” says producer Michelle Raimo Kouyate. “They run on two paws, four paws, use their tails, horns, snouts, wings, tongues—anything goes.”
Anything except smalls, that is. “In our world, there’s no difference between bigs and smalls as far as the culture is concerned,” says co-producer David Schulenburg. “But roarball is so dangerous—the pace, the terrains—the idea that a small goat would play the game is just unheard of.”
But Will’s goal to play in the ROAR league started when he was a kid and his mom taught him to dream big. Says head of story Keely Propp, “She told him he could change the game. She told him if he played the game his way and worked hard, he could make it.”
According to co-director Adam Rosette, “GOAT” isn’t just about aiming high in sports. “It represents what it’s like to have a dream, not only what it’s like to play sports,” he says. “It’s about Will’s dream, which just happens to be becoming a pro roarball player. If you’ve ever had a dream—something that you aspire to be—this movie is for you. There’s heart, there’s hustle and humor.”
Dillihay seconds the humor and the heart. “Physical animal comedy was a great source of universally understood humor for us,” he says. “Where we and the animators took extreme liberties to push the boundaries of physical comedy, we took just as much care to deliver the subtlety and subtext to land the emotional heartfelt performances of our voice actors.”
In Goat, Will Harris, a small, determined Boer goat, longs to become the greatest roarball player of all time. Roarball—an original, high‑intensity, co‑ed, full‑contact sport—dominates this all- animal world, and its players are the fastest, fiercest creatures imaginable. Will’s journey begins when he receives a once‑in‑a‑lifetime opportunity to join the professional league, despite being dismissed as too small, too fragile, and too unlikely to succeed. The premise immediately situates the film within the classic sports‑film lineage, yet its animated format and animal‑populated universe allow it to push the genre into new, imaginative territory.
Origins and Creative Inspiration
The film’s inspiration appears rooted in two intertwined impulses: the timeless appeal of the underdog narrative and the cultural resonance of the term “GOAT”—Greatest of All Time. In contemporary sports culture, “GOAT” has become a ubiquitous shorthand for excellence, ambition, and legacy. By literalizing the metaphor—making the protagonist an actual goat—the filmmakers create a playful yet pointed commentary on how greatness is defined, who gets to claim it, and how unlikely heroes can reshape the narrative of a sport.
The involvement of Stephen Curry, both as producer and voice actor, further deepens the film’s connection to real‑world athletic culture. Curry’s own career—marked by overcoming doubts about his size and physicality—mirrors Will’s journey, suggesting that the film draws inspiration from the lived experiences of athletes who defied expectations. Curry’s presence signals that Goat is not merely a children’s comedy but a story infused with authentic sports insight and emotional truth.
The world of Roarball itself reflects a creative desire to build a sport that is both familiar and fantastical. Its co‑ed, full‑contact nature, combined with the unique abilities of different animal species, allows the film to explore themes of teamwork, diversity, and adaptation. The sport becomes a metaphor for society: a place where strength takes many forms, and where the smallest competitor can disrupt the established order through strategy, heart, and resilience.
Direction, Writing, and World‑Building
Director Tyree Dillihay, known for his work in animation and comedic storytelling, brings a dynamic visual sensibility to the project. His direction emphasises movement, rhythm, and character‑driven humour—qualities essential for a film that blends sports action with comedic beats. Dillihay’s background positions him well to navigate the tonal balance between heartfelt aspiration and high‑energy spectacle. Writers Aaron Buchsbaum and Teddy Riley, along with story creators Nicolas Curcio and Peter Chiarelli, craft a narrative that is both archetypal and fresh. The underdog sports story is a well‑worn path, but Goat revitalises it through its anthropomorphic cast, its imaginative sport, and its thematic focus on redefining greatness. The writing team leans into the emotional stakes of Will’s journey while ensuring that the world around him feels lived‑in, competitive, and richly textured.
A Star‑Studded Ensemble and Character Dynamics
The voice cast is a major part of the film’s appeal. Caleb McLaughlin voices Will Harris, bringing youthful determination and emotional nuance to the role. Surrounding him is an ensemble of charismatic performers, including Gabrielle Union, Nicola Coughlan, Nick Kroll, David Harbour, Jenifer Lewis, Patton Oswalt, Aaron Pierre, Sherry Cola, Jelly Roll, and Jennifer Hudson. Stephen Curry himself voices Lenny Williamson, a giraffe roarball player and member of the Thorns, the team that becomes central to Will’s journey.
Each character represents a different facet of the sport’s culture: the seasoned veterans, the flashy stars, the skeptical teammates, and the supportive mentors. Their interactions with Will shape his evolution from an overlooked outsider to a player capable of transforming the sport. The diversity of species within the team also allows the film to explore themes of identity, belonging, and the value of unique strengths.
Themes and Cultural Significance
At its core, Goat is a story about challenging assumptions—about size, ability, and the limits imposed by others. Will’s journey resonates with anyone who has been underestimated or told they do not belong. The film’s message is clear: greatness is not predetermined by physical attributes or social expectations; it is forged through perseverance, creativity, and self‑belief.
The film also speaks to the evolving landscape of sports culture, where conversations about inclusivity, representation, and mental resilience have become increasingly prominent. By presenting a co‑ed, species‑diverse sport, Goat subtly critiques the rigid hierarchies of real‑world athletics. It imagines a world where competition is fierce but fairness and opportunity are foundational.
Moreover, the film’s release during the 2026 NBA All‑Star Weekend—an intentional scheduling choice—positions it within a broader cultural moment. It becomes part of a global celebration of athletic excellence, inviting audiences to reflect on what it means to be the “greatest” in any field.
Animation as a Vehicle for Sports Storytelling
Sports films often rely on the physicality of live‑action performance, but animation offers a different kind of freedom. In Goat, the animators can exaggerate movement, heighten the intensity of roarball matches, and create visual metaphors that would be impossible in live action. The result is a film that captures the adrenaline of sport while embracing the expressive possibilities of animation.
The all‑animal world also allows for humor and spectacle that transcend realism. A Komodo dragon who breathes fire, a lightning‑fast ostrich, a towering giraffe—all become part of the sport’s ecosystem, each contributing to the film’s playful yet meaningful exploration of competition.
Why Goat Matters
Goat stands poised to become a significant entry in the animated sports genre, a category with relatively few major titles. Its blend of humor, heart, and high‑energy action positions it as a film that can appeal to families, sports fans, and animation enthusiasts alike. Its significance lies in several key areas:
Reimagining the underdog narrative for a new generation.
Expanding the possibilities of sports storytelling through animation.
Engaging with contemporary sports culture, particularly the mythology of the “GOAT.”
Championing inclusivity and diversity, both in its cast and its fictional sport.
Offering a metaphor for personal growth, resilience, and the courage to challenge expectations. In a cinematic landscape increasingly dominated by sequels and franchises, Goat represents an original, character‑driven story with universal appeal. It celebrates the idea that greatness is not a birthright but a pursuit—one that requires heart, hustle, and the willingness to stand tall even when the world insists you are too small. As Will Harris steps onto the roarball court, he carries with him not only the hopes of his team but the aspirations of every viewer who has ever dared to dream beyond their circumstances. And in that sense, Goat is more than an animated sports comedy—it is a testament to the enduring power of the underdog.
Tyree Dillihay is an animation director and visual storyteller whose career spans television, comics, and feature animation. Known for his dynamic sense of movement and character‑driven humour, Dillihay built his reputation directing episodes of acclaimed series such as Bob’s Burgers, where his timing, warmth, and visual wit became signature elements. Before entering animation, he worked as an illustrator and designer, bringing a graphic sensibility that continues to shape his filmmaking style. His work often blends comedy with emotional clarity, grounding even the most heightened worlds in relatable human rhythms. With Goat, Dillihay steps into feature directing with a project that aligns naturally with his strengths: kinetic action, expressive characters, and a heartfelt underdog story that thrives on energy, personality, and visual invention.
Aaron Buchsbaum and Teddy Riley are a screenwriting duo known for their sharp comedic instincts and ability to craft high‑concept stories with emotional accessibility. Their collaborative work often leans into character‑driven humour, contemporary themes, and a playful sense of structure. Together, they have contributed to a range of film and television projects, developing a reputation for scripts that balance wit with sincerity. Their writing on Goat channels their talent for blending comedy with heartfelt aspiration, shaping a narrative that is both family‑friendly and grounded in the universal appeal of the underdog sports journey. Buchsbaum and Riley’s partnership thrives on a shared sensibility—quick, clever, and emotionally attuned—which gives the film its lively comedic pulse.
Nicolas Curcio, who originated the story for Goat alongside Peter Chiarelli, is a writer whose work spans film, television, and short‑form storytelling. Curcio’s writing often explores identity, ambition, and the tension between personal dreams and external expectations. His story contributions to Goat reflect his interest in characters who push against perceived limitations, using humour and heart to illuminate deeper emotional truths. Curcio has developed a reputation for imaginative premises rooted in relatable human experiences, making him a natural fit for a film that literalises the idea of the “greatest of all time” through an unlikely hero.
Peter Chiarelli is an established screenwriter best known for his work on character‑driven comedies and romantic dramas, including the breakout hit The Proposal and the critically acclaimed Crazy Rich Asians. His writing is marked by clean structure, emotional clarity, and a strong sense of ensemble dynamics. Chiarelli’s involvement in shaping the story for Goat brings a seasoned understanding of narrative architecture and character motivation. His ability to craft stories that balance humour, heart, and cultural resonance helps anchor the film’s imaginative world in a framework that feels both universal and emotionally grounded.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Wildcat – A story of loyalty, lethality and tenacity
“Set against the volatile backdrop of a London in chaos, Wildcat is a story about what happens when desperation meets determination — and how far a mother will go to protect her child. It’s a story of loyalty, lethality and tenacity,” says Producer Crawford Anderson-Dillon.
“What drew us to this project was its mix of intensity and dark humour — a tone that feels distinctly London: sharp, ironic, and unflinchingly honest. Beneath the gunfire and neon, Wildcat is about the cost of love and the weight of moral compromise. Ada’s journey isn’t just an action narrative; it’s an emotional reckoning. She’s fierce, flawed, and frighteningly real, a character that was then brought to life in visceral colour by Ms Beckinsale’s performance, and those of her co-stars,” says Producer Crawford Anderson-Dillon.
He continues: “We aimed to build a world that feels tactile — the grime of backstreets, the pulse of a city on the edge, the claustrophobia of time running out. Every choice, from cinematography to sound design, was made to immerse the audience in that pressure-cooker atmosphere while still allowing moments of twisted humour and humanity to break through. It’s an out-and-out action movie, set in a dark world where life is cheap, but we didn’t want it to be bleak.”
“Producing Wildcat has been about more than crafting an action thriller — it’s been about capturing the spirit of a city and the resilience of a woman who refuses to surrender. It’s gritty, stylish, and fiercely emotional — a film that hits hard but stays true to the beating heart at its centre.”
When her brother Edward’s dodgy dealing gets her daughter Charlotte kidnapped, ex Special Forces operative, Ada Williams, is forced to lean on every skill she has to get her back. Pulling her old team together for one last job, they have to race against time, and a city descending into chaos, before it’s too late and Charlotte is lost to a murky underworld.
DIRECTOR’S STATEMENT – James Nunn
When I first read Wildcat, it wasn’t just the action and the jet black humour that hooked me, it was the people inside it. It’s the story of Ada, a mother forced to resurrect the violent skills of her past to save her daughter’s life. Reunited with a team of soldiers bound by loyalty and friendship, haunted by their past and forced into London’s deadly criminal underworld. I’ve always been drawn to stories that move fast and hit hard. With Wildcat, I wanted to balance precision and action, the discipline of Kate’s character (Ada) and Lewis Tan (Roman) against the raw emotion of a kidnapped child. The film lives in that tension. It’s slick when it needs to be, but with a gritty edge. What really drove me was the heart of it, the bond between these characters and the child they’re trying to save. Beneath all the gunfire and tactics, it’s a story about redemption and humanity. About doing the right thing, even when you’re trained for something else. While the story unfolds against chaos and violence, the real tension lies within Ada herself, between who she was, who she’s become, and how far she’ll go to protect the only person that matters. In terms of tone and execution, Wildcat feels visceral and fun. It’s immediate and real. I wanted the camera work to be fluid and energetic, but never confusing; the editing to be fast but the geography clear, with a propulsive score to make your heart thump and your palms sweaty. My goal was to make it feel immersive, you’re in the room, in the fight, in the decision. I wanted the audience to feel the adrenaline, but also the cost. Because in the end, Wildcat isn’t just about the mission. It’s about who you are when the mission is over, and sometimes the wildcat inside you never stops hunting.
SCREENWRITER’S STATEMENT – Dee Dee
The hope when writing Wildcat was for the script to work on two parallel levels; on the surface it’s an action packed, fast paced thriller populated with a wild array of different characters, some of whom thrive in the chaos, others desperately want to get out. But all of them live within the orbit of London’s underworld, whether they like it or not. I love the idea of exploring a world just beneath the one we’re all familiar with – in everyday life we might catch the occasional glimpse of this murky, mysterious and dangerous world but it exists beyond our reach – thankfully! But our story is going to jump head first into it for an adrenalin fuelled adventure with a ticking clock… At the same time the script also touches upon issues that have been powerful influences on my life – the complications of having a loved one with severe mental health issues. Nothing is ever black and white when dealing with mental health and Ada’s indefatigable love and patience for her brother is not something that’s easily understood, especially for anyone who’s never experienced anything comparable. And the importance of loyalty to family and friends, I’m both fascinated by, as well as drawn to, characters who step up and put themselves in harms way with no other motivation other than to help those they love. And of course there’s the gallows humour, a frequently used coping mechanism when faced with terrifying adversity – in my opinion there’s always a way to find a laugh even within the most testing of circumstances. Finally, I wanted to tell a story led by a female protagonist and featuring powerful female characters but without the story being about the fact they are women. Ada must navigate a labyrinth classically occupied by alpha males – but she fights her way through without complaint, just like so many other women do in every day life. There’s a line uttered toward the end of the film by our male villain, Mahoney, – ‘I know for a woman to reach the same place as a man in this world, she’s had to work twice as hard’… The irony being that Mahoney is an outright chauvinist who doesn’t believe a word of what he’s saying. But his words are something I’ve always found to be true. Ultimately I hoped to write a film I would love to watch. You can consider the deeper issues lying beneath the surface or you can just sit back and have fun – or both! In the current climate it feels like a miracle to have a script actually made into a movie and I’m beyond thrilled with the film James Nunn has created and to have Kate Beckinsale playing Ada is a dream come true.
VISUAL APPROACH – Chris Richmond, Production Designer
The world I created for the script “Wildcat” to unfold heightened the diverse nature of the urban fabric of inner city London. Where the criminal world, the underground and its residents are constantly in flux, and at war to keep power over a constantly shifting city landscape – Something that hopefully rings true and resonates with inner city inhabitants throughout the world.
MUSIC – Si Beggs, Composer
After chatting with director James and seeing initial scenes of Wildcat, two things sprang to mind: a stylised neon-tinged universe and London in all its gritty glory. So my thinking was let’s smash these things together. To this aim I took a healthy dose of London’s filthy, grimey bass culture, which was something I’ve always been very much tuned into since my DJing days in late 90s East London and mixed it with a future looking electronica heavy score, which is a world I love. After getting deeper into the narrative, I also saw an opportunity for the music to help push the race against time arc whilst underpinning Ava’s emotional landscape. She may well be kicking butts left right and centre but I also wanted us to care about why she was kicking butts left right and centre!. So when submitting cues for review, as well as wanting to make sure Dom (writer and one of the producers) and James were feeling pure STRESS I also wanted them to feel Ava’s love and fears for her family. I hope to some extent we succeeded, I certainly had a blast in the studio so hope that energy seeps into the audience experience!
EDIT – Ben Mills, Editor
My inspiration for editing Wildcat came from how gritty and emotional the story felt underneath all the action and comedy. Finding the balance between the fast-paced, high energy scenes and the more vulnerable moments that show who Ada’s character really is were tricky to find but I think James, Don and I really made them land. Every edit was about keeping that tension alive while still letting the audience connect with her strength and struggle. The tone of the movie was a challenge to balance as her brother Ed presents a lot of comedy moments so it was really about taking those comedic nuances and applying them so they felt relatable and providing the audience with more to grasp when the story takes another hard turn.
JAMES NUNN, DIRECTOR/PRODUCER
James Nunn is an award-winning film director who has cemented himself as an international talent in the thriller and action genres. He has recently completed simultaneous post-production on two films – Wildcat for Capstone and Hungry, from his own screenplay, a creature feature for Signature. Next up James will complete his ‘One Shot’ trilogy by directing One Last Shot. Recent successes include his single-take action franchise One Shot and One More Shot (Screen Media / Signature / Sky Original), which he helmed during the pandemic. His showcase of both technical ability and a strong visual style on these movies alone has landed him a reputation for elevating all projects that he is attached to and consistently proving James to be an exciting, unique and professional director for studios and talent alike. He has several projects in development as writer and/or director. In the past, James’ films have premiered at highly regarded genre festivals such as Fantastic Fest and Film4 Frightfest and he has won an RTS (Royal Television Society) drama award for his short film-making and the Sitges ‘Grand Prize of European Fantasy Film’ for his debut movie Tower Block, described as ‘The best British film of 2012’ – heDD magazine. Before directing, James’s extensive experience as a 1st Assistant Director and 2nd Unit Director on projects like the 47 METRES DOWN franchise and Stephen Knight’s A Christmas Carol further illustrates his impressive ability to work with a wide array of production and distribution companies.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on How to Make a Killing: A Razor‑Sharp Descent into Greed, Legacy, and the Dark Art of Reinvention
How to Make a Killing arrives as a wickedly stylish black‑comedy thriller, written and directed by John Patton Ford, the filmmaker behind Emily the Criminal. Adapted from Roy Horniman’s 1907 novel Israel Rank: The Autobiography of a Criminal, and loosely inspired by the classic 1949 Ealing comedy Kind Hearts and Coronets, the film reimagines a century‑old satire for a contemporary audience hungry for stories about power, privilege, and the seductive logic of self‑made success.
With Glen Powell leading a formidable ensemble cast—including Margaret Qualley, Jessica Henwick, Bill Camp, Zach Woods, Topher Grace, and Ed Harris—the film blends dark humour with psychological tension, crafting a narrative that is as entertaining as it is unsettling.
At the centre of the story is Becket Redfellow, a blue‑collar outsider disowned at birth by his obscenely wealthy family. When he discovers that he is, in fact, the rightful heir to the Redfellow fortune, he embarks on a ruthless quest to reclaim what he believes is his due—no matter how many relatives stand in his way. Ford’s screenplay transforms this premise into a sharp, satirical character study, exploring how entitlement, resentment, and ambition can twist into something monstrous when given just enough oxygen. Powell’s performance grounds the film in a charismatic menace: Becket is charming, wounded, and terrifyingly determined, a man who believes that the world owes him a debt he intends to collect.
Back in 2023, Glen Powell says he found himself at a crossroads.
The now 37-year-old star was enjoying a trajectory that had, appropriately enough, taken a stratospheric upwards turn thanks to his standout performance in Top Gun: Maverick. He also had another two movies in the can – Hit Man, that he co-wrote and produced alongside director Richard Linklater, and Anyone But You, his high concept, much-paparazzied rom-com with Sydney Sweeney – that he was confident would cement his status.
But Powell craved something deeper. Something provocative and punchy that would push people’s buttons while thrilling them with the kind of amoral maze of a movie he’d grown up loving watching himself. A genre-stretching picture that would satisfy a personal creative itch and have audiences debating its rights and wrongs long after the credits rolled.
He found precisely what he’d been looking for in How To Make A Killing, the wickedly entertaining thriller from acclaimed writer-director John Patton Ford, that is about to unleash its gripping revenge plot and razor-sharp wit on mainstream crowds and avid movie-goers alike, across the world.
Ford had taken that script to STUDIOCANAL, who have produced the film it has now become alongside Blueprint Pictures.
The French-born company had felt it fit perfectly with their ethos to make what its EVP of global production, Ron Halpern, calls “visionary movies driven by directors who have a voice for audiences of today, who are looking for distinctive filmmaking. That’s why we wanted to make this film, with John.”
Significantly, STUDIOCANAL wasn’t only the right studio for the project because of the kind of movies it makes right now but for the many that exist in its vast library of classics too. One very important one, in particular.
“How To Make A Killing is a loose, loose reimagining of the classic Ealing Studios dry comedy Kind Hearts and Coronets, from the ‘40s,” Ford reveals. “This is a more bombastic, American version of it.”
That original movie, directed in 1949 by Robert Hamer, starred the legendary Alec Guinness, who played an unprecedented eight characters in it. “I love the original. There is such a unique tone and wit to it. And over the years, STUDIOCANAL have had various big cheese movie stars come in and say, ‘Wouldn’t it be fun to remake Kind Hearts and Coronets? And how about I play all the parts?’” says How To Make A Killing’s producer, Pete Czernin.
Until now, though, none of the suggested approaches had seemed quite the right fit. “It’s always hard to explain what makes it worth pursuing a new version of something,” Halpern says. “But what John did was make this feel incredibly contemporary. It just worked, the moment you read it. He made the original feel ripe for reappraisal. He took the bones of it, flipped it to America and shook it up.”
Powell had been considering Ford’s new script with his sights set firmly on the lead role
Becket Redfellow, a young man robbed of his birthright to a vast family fortune and determined to get what he feels he’s owed by murdering his way through the family members who stand in his way.
“I loved the script because its concept was just so compelling and had such a great ensemble of characters,” Powell says. “When I read it, I realised that this was the kind of role I’d been looking to take on – the kind of part I’d never played.”
Powell had been a fan of Ford’s debut movie, the multiple award-winning, critically adored and Aubrey Plaza-starring Emily the Criminal, and when he met with the director, his fandom only amplified.
“I was a huge fan of Emily the Criminal, but then sitting down with John, I became a fan of him as a person too. And then I became a fan of what he was planning on doing with this movie, and how it was going to feel. The movie that John was talking about, on a tonal level and on a taste level, was the kind of movie I hadn’t ever seen in the marketplace,” Powell says.
“We’ve all seen American Psycho. We’ve seen derivatives of it. We’ve seen Taxi Driver. We’ve seen derivatives of that too. But the way John was conceptualising this movie, his vision behind it, I was like, ‘I’ve never seen that movie – it’s like Ocean’s 11 with murder. It’s rock ‘n’ roll. It’s got swagger.’ John reminded me of a young [Steven] Soderbergh.”
Soderbergh wasn’t the only auteur that Ford was being compared to behind the scenes. Ask How To Make A Killing’s producer, Pete Czernin, what makes him such a special talent, and he’ll namecheck some other filmmaking greats that he believes Ford sits comfortably alongside.
“I’ve been lucky enough to work with Martin McDonagh [on the double-Oscar-winning Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri], who is just extraordinary. But the Americans seem to bang out this calibre of writer-directors: Quentin Tarantino, Paul Thomas Anderson, John Patton Ford… That writer-director space is very interesting, and John is right in that zone.”
What most interested Powell about the project, and the character of Becket Redfellow himself, was a question of perspective. Specifically, that of the audience. Because here was that rare thing: a movie that, like the American Psycho and Taxi Driver examples he had for so long been seeking, asked its viewers to be complicit in the action themselves. To root for a man doing terrible things. To want him to literally get away with murder.
“That’s exactly what I’d loved about those movies, us following somebody we shouldn’t. That POV where the audience ends up rooting for the antagonist, essentially. Or at least someone who has antagonistic morals,” Powell smiles, delighted to now be playing in the ethical murk.
“The fun of jumping into this world was, ‘How far can I take the audience down this path and still make them root for me?’ That’s what I was always craving, that shift of perspective. This movie isn’t attempting to exist in the same lane as those other exceptional movies. But like them, we’re guiding the audience on a journey they may not at first think they want to go on, but will discover is a blast to go on.”
Powell isn’t the only one for whom making How To Make A Killing represents a personal milestone.
“On a thematic level, this movie is about growing up in the United States, where you’re taught to acquire more than you showed up with. That’s certainly built into my DNA, to get more and more and go further and never quite be satisfied with where you are,” says Ford.
“This is a movie about someone with that disease, who simply can’t accept where he currently is. For reasons beyond his control, he feels he deserves this fortune that he just can’t get. Really this story is all about how far we will go in life to get something we are convinced will make us content, when actually the definition of contentment is being happy with what you have. It’s a movie about that dilemma that we all share.”
The director smiles, overjoyed to be working with his leading man to bring to delicious life a character for the ages played by an actor at the peak of his powers, who is finally getting to unleash his wild side.
“What makes this movie extreme is that it centres around a character who feels emboldened to do things that we just would not do. And Glen is so perfect for that because on one hand he’s so identifiable as a performer and, on the other, he is so charming that you’d almost forgive him for anything,” Ford says.
“Because Becket is like us, up to a point. He’s like us in the sense that he has similar desires, fears and insecurities. But then, for whatever reason, he doesn’t quite have the same ethical hang-ups that we do and is able to do things that we would never, ever consider doing. It’s a story that is designed to give the audience an illicit thrill because we get to follow someone who’s ever so slightly more over the line than we are. It’s a wild ride for sure.”
“One of the most fascinating aspects about making this movie has been exploring the different versions of wealth, and what it does to different people,” Ford says. “It’s not the same for everyone. Each of these characters uses that money and that leverage in their own unique ways.”
JOHN PATTON FORD – Director – writer
John grew up in rural South Carolina. When he was thirteen, a movie filmed in his hometown, and he was cast in a small role (because he “looked local”) and ended up spending a month on set, following around the director and cinematographer. He quickly became interested in filmmaking. After graduating from The American Film Institute, his thesis film, PATROL, premiered at the 2010 Sundance Film Festival. He found work as a screenwriter soon after, penning scripts for Sony, Universal, and Disney. His directing debut was EMILY THE CRIMINAL, starring Aubrey Plaza. The movie premiered at the 2022 Sundance Film Festival and was nominated for four Independent Spirit Awards, winning Best First Screenplay. He lives in Los Angeles.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on EPiC: Elvis Presley in Concert
Elvis sings and tells his story like never before in a new cinematic experience from visionary filmmaker Baz Luhrmann.
Director’s Statement
During the making of Elvis (2022), we went on a search for rumoured unseen footage from the iconic 1970s concert films Elvis: That’s the Way It Is and Elvis on Tour that had reportedly been lost.
My initial thought was that, if we could find it, we may be able to restore the unused footage and use it in our Elvis feature, starring Austin Butler. I had researchers go into the Warner Bros. film vaults buried in underground salt mines in Kansas, and, to the astonishment of all, we uncovered 69 boxes (59 hours) of film negative that hadn’t been seen.
In addition to this, Angie Marchese (VP of Archives and Exhibits, and curator at Graceland) was able to unearth some never-before-seen Super8 from the Graceland Archives. It has taken over two years to restore the footage to a quality that it has never been projected at previously. Whilst some of the negatives had been printed and used in previous productions, there were many ‘never before seen’, shots, sequences and performances; so if portions of these cuts were out in the public realm, they were generally poor quality bootlegs. The team had to meticulously restore sound from the many unconventional sources that were also unearthed.
Throughout this incredibly detailed process, one of the great finds has been unheard recordings of Elvis talking about his life and his music: from the 1970 Vegas show, on tour in 1972 and even precious moments of the 1957 “gold jacket” performance in Hawaii. I knew that we could not pass up this opportunity. It was these discoveries that gave the inspiration for the new film.
What if, instead of reduxing the previous works, we made a film that wasn’t a documentary and wasn’t a concert film? What if Elvis came to you in a dreamscape, almost like a cinematic poem, and sang to you and told you his story in a way in which you haven’t experienced before? And what if we were able to work with the likes of Peter Jackson and the team at Park Road Post Production and other high-end technicians, and bring this original footage to a quality, to be seen on the big screen in a way in which it could not have been realised until now? What if we took both known recordings of Elvis telling you about his life and could reconstitute his own personal voice at a sonic level never before heard? Sonically, what if we could both reconstitute and remix the original orchestrations but at the same time imagine what he might do with his classic musical works through a contemporary prism? And what if in a world where Artificial Intelligence can make all sorts of illusions, the illusions were made from authentic and original material and restored with meticulous human craft? We asked the what ifs and answered them in what we are about to present at Toronto International Film Festival’s 50th Edition – EPiC: Elvis Presley in Concert, Elvis sings and tells his story like never before.
Elvis takes the audience through the journey of his life, through both classic and contemporary musical prisms, weaving unseen footage with iconic performances that have never been presented in this way. EPiC: Elvis Presley in Concert is a leap of the musical imagination and a tribute to one of the greatest performers of all time.
Elvis Presley Timeline
● After serving abroad in the US Army, Elvis Presley pursued an acting career and became one of Hollywood’s highest-paid actors by the 1960s. In the meantime, The Beatles, as well as phenomena such as the Summer of Love in San Francisco and the anti-Vietnam War movement, had a huge impact on music and culture. ● A year after the Summer of Love, Elvis put on his ‘68 Comeback Special, which was his first appearance on TV in front of a live studio audience in over eight years and a visual and musical presentation that cemented his reputation as one of the great performers of all time. ● Elvis returned to the stage in Las Vegas at the International Hotel on July 31, 1969. The Vegas residency was hugely successful. When he was in residency, he typically played 2 sold-out shows per day, 7 days a week, 4 weeks straight, for approximately 7.5 years (July 1969 – December 1976). He sold more than a million tickets throughout the residency. ● The footage Luhrmann uses in EPiC: Elvis Presley in Concert was collected by large MGM cameras over various nights of his Vegas residency in 1970, shot in 35mm anamorphic. ● In 1970, Elvis embarked on his first concert tour since 1957. His 1972 Summer tour included 4 sold-out shows at Madison Square Garden. In EPiC, Luhrmann utilises footage from tour engagements captured in 1972 alongside recordings from 6 different Vegas residency shows. Together, the Vegas and tour footage constitute Elvis Presley’s return to the stage at the height of his career and reinvention as an artist at the start of a new decade. ● While Elvis never performed outside of North America, he did perform in Canada a total of 3 times. He performed in Toronto on April 2, 1957, at the Maple Leaf Gardens (now Mattamy Athletic Centre on the campus of Toronto Metropolitan University). Later the same year, he performed in Ottawa and Vancouver. These performances are not represented in the footage of the film, but they underscore Elvis’ connection to Canada and the significance of the World Premiere at TIFF.
EPiC: Elvis Presley in Concert Background
● When producing his feature film Elvis, Luhrmann discovered that there were reels of footage from Elvis Presley’s concert performances in Las Vegas during the 1970s. With the assistance of Warner Bros., his team was able to locate the lost footage as well as many 16-track audio recordings. ● Luhrmann first met Jonathan Redmond when editing Moulin Rouge! and they have since formed a longtime creative partnership through various projects, including Australia, The Great Gatsby and Elvis. Jonathan, whom Luhrmann refers to as “Jono,” is both an editor and executive producer for EPiC: Elvis Presley In Concert. As Luhrmann likes to credit, Jono is the driving creative force on the project. ● It took two years to locate the negatives, which Luhrmann’s team then worked with Warner Bros. to scan in 4K. They also found Super8 footage that has never been seen before. Enter Peter Jackson and his team at Park Road Post Production, who worked to restore not just the 8mm but the 16mm and 35mm anamorphic, as well. Ultimately, Luhrmann worked with over 59 hours of rare footage, including anamorphic 35mm, as well as 8mm from the 1950s. ● Many of the audio tracks did not sync to the footage, so the team utilised lip reading to match the tracks to specific footage. Warner Bros. provided over 2,300 rolls of Elvis archive material to assist in the process. ● While Luhrmann’s hands-on work in music is well known (he is credited as executive music producer), he’s identified Jamieson Shaw, a longtime collaborator of Luhrmann’s, as overall music producer, bringing together new material that was recorded for the project with the classic audio. In addition, Luhrmann’s previous collaborators, such as Elliott Wheeler (composer on Elvis) contributed to the score. Bryan Patrick & Kim Green (music supervisors) have also returned in new roles. ● Omer Fedi has lent his hand in producing a remix of ‘Always On My Mind. ’Fedi’s impressive writing and producing credits can be found on hits for artists like Rosé (Blackpink) & Bruno Mars, Lil Nas X, Royel Otis and Sam Smith. ● There are over 70 pieces of music in the film performed by Elvis, either in Vegas or on tour as well as in rehearsals and some classic recordings from his lifelong catalogue. The film captures iconic covers from notable artists such as The Beatles, Simon & Garfunkel, Ray Charles, Dusty Springfield, Bob Dylan, Three Dog Night, Brenda Lee, Edwin Hawkins and The Righteous Brothers. ● During the making of Elvis, Luhrmann had an office at Graceland in Memphis, Tennessee for 18 months. While living in Memphis, Luhrmann was introduced to Angie Marchese, VP of Archives and Exhibits and curator at Graceland, who provided the production with newly discovered 8mm footage of Elvis performing in Hawaii. Luhrmann’s time at Graceland and the people he met there informed both the production of Elvis and EPiC: Elvis Presley in Concert.
BAZ LUHRMANN | DIRECTOR
Baz Luhrmann is a pioneer of pop culture working across film, opera, theatre, live events, fashion, and music. His singular cinematic language continues to captivate audiences through a unique fusion of classical artistry and bold, contemporary style that has ignited imaginations around the world and made Luhrmann the most commercially successful director in Australia, with four of the country’s top-ten grossing films. Born in Sydney, Australia, Luhrmann’s journey began in theatre, where his innovative productions won the acclaim of audiences and critics alike. He burst onto the scene with the first of his Red Curtain Trilogy, Strictly Ballroom, which premiered at the 1992 Cannes Festival. This film was followed by the ambitious modern adaptation of William Shakespeare’s Romeo + Juliet (1996) and the Academy Award-winning Moulin Rouge! (2001). With these films, Luhrmann brought the movie-musical back into the zeitgeist with his infectious, trademark theatrical aesthetic and operatic sense of romance. Returning to the stage, Luhrmann’s production company, Bazmark, went on to garner two Tony Awards for the Broadway run of Puccini’s opera La Bohème (2002), which he then followed up with the sweeping historical epic, the Academy Award-nominated Australia (2008). His now-iconic screen adaptation of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby (2013) won two Academy Awards and became Luhrmann’s highest-grossing film to date. Collaborating with Jay-Z on the Gatsby soundtrack, Luhrmann redefined cross-genre music in film, with the album peaking at number one on the Billboard 200 chart and setting a new record for the biggest digital sales week for a soundtrack in Billboard history. Always pushing the boundaries of genre, Luhrmann collaborated with Netflix on his first series, The Get Down (2016), a critically acclaimed show about the birth of hip-hop in the 1970s South Bronx. His recent projects also include Faraway Downs, a six-part Hulu series reimagining his 2008 film, Australia. Luhrmann’s 2022 film Elvis, starring Austin Butler and Tom Hanks and entirely shot on the Gold Coast, Australia, became the fourth-highest-grossing Australian film of all time. Elvis received eight Oscar nominations, including Best Picture, while also winning four BAFTAs and eleven Australian Academy (AACTA) awards. Butler took home a BAFTA and a Golden Globe and was nominated for the Academy Award. The film’s Grammy-nominated soundtrack, produced by Luhrmann through his label House of Iona, featured the hit single “Vegas” by Doja Cat, which charted on Billboard’s top 10 and was also nominated for a Grammy for Best Rap Performance. Elvis is Luhrmann’s most nominated film to date. Luhrmann lives between New York, Paris and the Gold Coast with his wife and creative partner, Oscar-winning designer Catherine Martin, and their two children. Luhrmann is currently in development on his forthcoming epic, Jehanne d’Arc at Warner Bros.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on I Swear: A Fierce, Tender Portrait of Survival, Stigma, and the Fight to Be Seen
I Swear is one of the most powerful and emotionally resonant British films of the mid‑2020s—a deeply human biographical drama.
Ultimately, I Swear is a film about the power of empathy—how it can heal, uplift, and reshape lives. Through Jones’ sensitive direction and Aramayo’s extraordinary performance, the film invites audiences to see John Davidson not as a medical case or a curiosity, but as a fully realised human being: flawed, funny, brave, and profoundly resilient.
In telling Davidson’s story, I Swear becomes more than a biographical drama. It becomes a testament to the importance of listening, understanding, and refusing to look away from the complexities of the human condition. It is a film that lingers—emotionally, socially, and culturally—long after the credits roll.
The film is written and directed by Kirk Jones, the filmmaker known for Waking Ned Devine, Nanny McPhee, and Everybody’s Fine. Based on the true story of John Davidson, a Scottish man living with severe Tourette’s syndrome, the film traces his journey from misunderstood child to outspoken activist, illuminating the emotional, social, and cultural terrain of disability in a world that often refuses to understand it.
Jones not only wrote and directed the film but also produced it, shaping the project with a singular creative vision. His screenplay draws from Davidson’s real life, particularly the period following the 1989 television documentary John’s Not Mad, which first brought national attention to Davidson’s condition. The film premiered at the Toronto International Film Festival in September 2025 and quickly gained momentum, earning five BAFTA nominations—including a Best Supporting Actor nod for Peter Mullan—cementing its status as one of the most significant Scottish films of the decade.
I Swear is currently available through a mix of limited theatrical screenings and digital platforms, depending on your region, and its distribution has followed the typical path of a prestige British drama that premiered on the festival circuit. After debuting at the Toronto International Film Festival and completing its UK theatrical run, the film moved to major digital storefronts, where it can now be rented or purchased on services such as Apple TV, Amazon Video, Sky Store, and Rakuten TV.
A Story Rooted in Truth and Compassion
The inspiration for I Swear lies in the extraordinary life of John Davidson, whose childhood and adolescence were marked by misunderstanding, stigma, and institutional failure. Growing up in the Scottish Borders in the 1980s, Davidson experienced severe tics, echolalia, and involuntary outbursts long before Tourette’s syndrome was widely recognised or understood. The film captures this era with unflinching honesty: the corporal punishment he endured at school, the social isolation, the bullying, and the emotional toll of being labelled “difficult” or “disruptive” when he was simply unwell.
Jones approaches this material with a delicate balance of humour and heartbreak. The title I Swear reflects both the involuntary profanity associated with Davidson’s condition and his repeated insistence that he cannot control it—a double meaning that encapsulates the film’s tonal complexity. The film acknowledges the comedic absurdity that sometimes accompanies Tourette’s, but never at the expense of dignity. Instead, it uses humour as a bridge to empathy, inviting audiences to see the person behind the symptoms.
A Performance That Anchors the Film
At the centre of I Swear is a remarkable performance by Robert Aramayo, who portrays Davidson with nuance, vulnerability, and fierce emotional intelligence. His work avoids caricature, instead offering a portrait of a young man navigating a world that constantly misreads him. Aramayo’s performance is supported by a strong ensemble cast, including Maxine Peake, Shirley Henderson, and Peter Mullan, whose BAFTA‑nominated role adds emotional weight to the story.
Scott Ellis Watson makes his acting debut as the young Davidson, capturing the confusion and frustration of a child punished for behaviours he cannot control. The film’s dual‑timeline structure—moving between Davidson’s youth and adulthood—allows Jones to explore the long‑term impact of early trauma while highlighting the resilience that ultimately defines Davidson’s life.
A Director Returning to His Roots
For Kirk Jones, I Swear marks a return to the intimate, character‑driven storytelling that defined his early career. His direction is grounded in realism, favouring naturalistic performances and lived‑in environments over stylistic flourish. The film’s visual language—shaped by cinematographer James Blann—captures the rugged beauty of the Scottish Borders while emphasising the emotional isolation of its protagonist.
Jones’ screenplay is equally attentive to the social context of the era. In the 1980s and 1990s, Tourette’s syndrome was poorly understood, often sensationalised, and rarely treated with compassion. By situating Davidson’s story within this landscape, Jones highlights the systemic failures that shaped his early life: punitive school systems, medical ignorance, and a culture that equated difference with deviance.
A Film About Community, Not Just Struggle
One of the film’s most striking qualities is its refusal to reduce Davidson’s life to suffering. While I Swear does not shy away from the pain he endured, it also foregrounds the people who supported him—friends, mentors, and community members who recognised his humanity when institutions did not. This emphasis on community is particularly evident in the film’s portrayal of Dottie, a mental‑health nurse who helps Davidson understand his condition and reclaim his sense of self. Her presence underscores the film’s central message: that understanding and acceptance can transform lives in ways that medicine alone cannot.
Why I Swear Matters
The significance of I Swear extends far beyond its biographical narrative. It is a film that challenges audiences to reconsider their assumptions about disability, neurodiversity, and the social structures that shape our understanding of difference.
Kirk Jones is a British writer‑director known for his warm, human‑centred storytelling and his ability to blend humour, emotion, and social insight with an effortless touch. Born in Bristol and trained at the Newport Film School in Wales, Jones began his career directing award‑winning commercials before breaking into feature filmmaking with Waking Ned Devine (1998). That debut—an offbeat Irish comedy about community, luck, and moral mischief—became an international hit and immediately established Jones as a filmmaker with a gift for character‑driven narratives and gentle, observational wit. He followed it with Nanny McPhee (2005), a family fantasy adapted from Christianna Brand’s stories, which showcased his versatility and ability to craft visually rich, emotionally resonant films for broad audiences. Jones later directed Everybody’s Fine (2009), a tender American drama starring Robert De Niro, where he demonstrated a deeper dramatic sensibility, exploring themes of family, regret, and reconciliation. His work consistently gravitates toward stories about ordinary people navigating extraordinary emotional terrain, often with a blend of humour and poignancy. Across his career, Jones has built a reputation for compassionate filmmaking—stories that foreground humanity, vulnerability, and the quiet heroism of everyday life. His later projects, including the biographical drama I Swear, reflect a continued commitment to narratives rooted in lived experience, social complexity, and emotional truth. Whether working in comedy, drama, or family storytelling, Jones brings a steady, empathetic voice that has made him one of Britain’s most quietly distinctive filmmakers.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Is This Thing On? – An unconventional journey of a man rediscovering his voice and happiness
Is This Thing On? is a comedy-drama directed and co-written by Bradley Cooper, inspired by the life of British comedian John Bishop. It explores themes of marriage, identity, and reinvention against the backdrop of New York’s comedy scene.
Aactor and filmmaker Bradley Cooper first met actor Will Arnett 25 years ago. They had their entire careers in front of them still. But on this occasion, it was an audition of sorts: Arnett was dating actress Amy Poehler, who had become close with Cooper during the filming of the 2001 film Wet Hot American Summer and was eager to get her friend’s take on her new boyfriend.
Bradley Cooper & Will Arnett
Around the same time, 3,000 miles away across the Atlantic, pharmaceutical rep John Bishop was nursing the wounds of a breakup with his wife on the streets of Manchester. To avoid the £4 entry fee at a local pub, he put his name down for the establishment’s open mic night and boldly took the stage for a stand-up comedy set in front of seven people, during which he worked through what was going on with him and his wife. He found it strangely therapeutic, like a form of counseling – until one evening his wife coincidentally turned up in the audience. After the gig, they ended up chatting and found themselves on the road to reconciliation.
As story hooks go, it was an enticing one. The moment Arnett heard it, he began working on a script inspired by Bishop’s story. During the filming of Cooper’s sophomore feature Maestro, Arnett mentioned the broad points of Bishop’s story and it crawled into Cooper’s brain and took root.
“I love stand-up comedy, ever since I was in grad school in 1998,” Cooper says. “I used to go to the Comedy Cellar all the time, and then when I became friends with Dave Chappelle, I would go there with him. When you went with a comic, you really got to experience it – the upstairs restaurant at The Olive Tree and just having your mind blown. You’re eating a sandwich and they’re talking about the monologue for SNL. It was insane! Then being friends with Zach Galifianakis and going to Largo in Los Angeles, all the people and the camaraderie, I just became enthralled by it.”
It was an intimate atmosphere that he had experienced up close and yet never really seen captured on screen. But he wasn’t interested in a “stand-up movie,” per se. Arnett and his writing partner Mark Chappell, who had been in conversations with producer Kris Thykier, spoke with Cooper about taking a crack at a rewrite himself that would make the relationship between Alex Novak (the character inspired by Bishop) and his wife Tess the “A” story, with the stand-up aspect becoming a foil for that narrative.
“I was like, ‘Give me the summer,’” Cooper says. “‘I’m going to write it and then I’ll hand it to you, and if you guys like it, let’s make this movie. If you don’t, no problem. Take what you like from it and make your movie.’”
Arnett and Chappell loved the new direction. In Cooper’s rendition, Is This Thing On? was tapping a much deeper vein, investigating, in the immediate aftermath of a marriage’s disintegration, why that relationship had slowly lost its tether. No big blow-up scene where Alex and Tess call it quits. No dramatic court proceedings. Just two people with kids shuffling through the detritus of their failed 20-year life together, then realising they weren’t unhappy with their marriage, but rather, they were unhappy in their marriage. They work through it separately – Alex with his stand-up “therapy,” Tess re-courting an athletic passion she had abandoned long ago – until they find their way back to each other, stronger than ever.
“People do drift apart, and when things get left unsaid for long enough, that divide can become really great,” Arnett says. “If you look at it on paper, there’s so much that they have going for them, but that’s true in lots of relationships. It’s a lot harder when it’s a near miss, when you can’t put your finger on what happened. I think they just got to that point where they were kind of missing each other. We thought it was a really interesting way to look at what it is about a relationship that makes it work.”
The film ultimately is an unconventional journey of a man finding himself and rediscovering his voice and happiness. On his 50th birthday, Cooper table-read the script with some actor friends. That was in January of 2025. A breezy 33-day shoot and an accelerated post-production schedule later, the film was primed and ready for a debut at the New York Film Festival by October – the perfect landing spot for a movie so steeped in the city’s vibe and atmosphere.
“I wrote this script faster than I’ve written anything,” Cooper says. “And then the filming, I was much more at ease than I’ve ever been. Because you get into a hole on the day sometimes, and maybe things aren’t working. But I just breathed through it, like, ‘It’s going to come. It’s going to come. Stay relaxed.’ The moment you crink up, you’re fucked. It’s like that in anything – stand-up comedy, a fight, sports. You’ve got to stay loose, and I was very loose through this whole movie.”
As their marriage quietly unravels, Alex and Tess Novak find themselves at a crossroads, both collectively and individually. Facing middle age and the specter of impending divorce, Alex seeks renewed purpose in the New York stand-up comedy scene, while Tess confronts the sacrifices she made for their family. Together, they’re forced to navigate co-parenting, shifting senses of identity and a burning question: Can love and commitment take a new form?
BRADLEY COOPER – Director, Writer, Producer, & “Balls”
Bradley Cooper, born in Philadelphia, is an acclaimed actor, filmmaker, writer, and producer. Cooper’s most recent film, Maestro, which he co-wrote, produced, starred, and directed garnered 7 Oscar® nominations. Cooper’s directorial debut, A Star is Born, which he also co-wrote, directed, produced, and starred in earned 8 Oscar® nominations. In 2020, Cooper began his production company, Lea Pictures, which focuses on developing and producing commercially entertaining and transformational feature films, television, documentaries, and digital content. In 2013, Cooper started the One Family Foundation to help make a difference in the lives of patients with cancer and their families. One Family aims to ease the burden of cancer treatment for patients and their families by reducing financial barriers to care. Cooper is a 12-time Oscar® nominee, Grammy winner, and Tony nominee.
WILL ARNETT – Writer, Producer, & “Alex Novak”
Will Arnett has built an impressive career that spans television, movies, podcasts, commercials, and more. He is also the co-host of the immensely popular podcast “SmartLess”, with close friends Jason Bateman and Sean Hayes, and guests have included Vice President Kamala Harris, George Clooney, Gwyneth Paltrow, Stacey Abrams, Jennifer Aniston, and many more. He previously hosted and produced the hit competition show “Lego Masters”. Arnett can also be seen in the SmartLess: On The Road Documentary that follows Arnett, Sean Hayes, and Jason Bateman on the North American tour of their Podcast. Arnett also recently produced and starred in the hit series “Twisted Metal”. In addition, Arnett serves as an executive producer on the all-new game show “Snake Oil”. Additionally, Arnett is an executive producer and star on “Murderville”. Arnett burst onto the scene portraying “Gob” on the Emmy Award-winning sitcom “Arrested Development”, which earned him his first Emmy® nomination in 2006. He also famously guest-starred on the beloved “30 Rock”, for which he received four Emmy® nominations for his portrayal of Jack Donaghy’s nemesis, Devon Banks. Arnett has starred in dozens of hit live-action and animated movies, including The Lego Movie, Lego Batman, Blades of Glory, Semi-Pro, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Ratatouille, Teen Titans GO! to the Movies,Monsters vs. Aliens, and many more. Audiences heard him in the family film Rumble. In television, he starred for six seasons in the critically acclaimed “BoJack Horseman”. He starred in and produced the comedy “Flaked” and had starring roles on CBS’ “The Millers”, “Up All Night”, “Running Wilde”, “Riviera”, and “The Increasingly Poor Decisions of Todd Margaret”. Arnett’s voice is also a mainstay in the advertising world. He has most notably been the voice of GMC Trucks for over twenty years and has done spots for Reese’s Peanut Butter and Bank of America. In August 2014, Arnett launched his production company, Electric Avenue, which develops and produces content across all platforms. Electric Avenue was behind “Flaked”, “The Gong Show”, and Pop TV’s “Hot Date”.
Acclaimed filmmaker Johannes Roberts returns to the director’s chair with a new take on terror as a gentle pet becomes a deadly stalker in Primate. An adrenaline-fueled, terrifying ride packed with old-school thrills, Primate is pure, unforgettable horror at its best.
Primate is directed by Johannes Roberts (47 Meters Down, The Strangers: Prey at Night), from a script by Johannes Roberts and Ernest Riera (Nowhere, 47 Meters Down).
Johnny Sequoyah as “Lucy” and Director Johannes Roberts in Primate from Paramount Pictures. Photo Credit: Gareth Gatrell
Filmmaker Johannes Roberts has built a reputation as a master of mayhem in films where killer sharks, zombies, demons, and slashers threaten the innocent and the guilty alike
His latest movie, Primate, promises to be the most shocking, bone-chilling tale he has told thus far, as a group of teens are terrorized when their pet chimp suddenly turns on them. Amping up the visceral terror with old-school, in-camera special effects and jaw-dropping surprises, Roberts is taking horror to new and ever-bloodier heights.
The director and co-writer of Primate calls the movie his love letter to the first horror film he ever saw: Cujo. “For me, it opened up a whole new kind of horror based in real situations, not vampires and monsters,” Roberts explains. “I instinctively understood the way that the director Lewis Teague and the cinematographer Jan de Bont were manipulating the audience — I knew right then that I wanted to direct films like that.”
Stephen King’s classic story about a St. Bernard turned serial killer had Roberts wondering what might happen if a different kind of family pet developed a taste for murder. Chimpanzees, he learned, are intimidating animals. The charming, pink-faced infants that people fall in love with mature into 150-pound beasts that can revert to their primal instincts in seconds.
“Chimpanzees can be evil, terrifying creatures in real life. They hunt other animals and even other chimps for food. They fly into rages,” he says. “The more research I did, the darker the picture became.”
With their brains and brawn, Roberts knew a chimp would be the perfect device for his next film. “I love the horror genre, both as a director and a movie fan,” he says. “As an audience member, I love being scared in a safe environment. As a filmmaker, it allows me to play in a fantasy world that is a lot of fun, where the director’s job is manipulating the audience. The goal is to get them to jump and scream all together. It’s a very communal, theatrical experience.”
Primate marks the fourth collaboration between Roberts and his longtime co-writer, Ernest Riera, who, even after countless viewings, still flinches while watching the movie. “And I know exactly what’s going to happen and when,” he says. “I believe this is the most frightening film Johannes and I have ever written. Ben begins as such a sweet, relatable character. His transformation feels unnervingly real. His evolution isn’t just credible — it’s devastating. You know he can only get worse, yet part of you can’t help but hope. When that hope is stripped away, that’s when a truly unique kind of dread takes hold.”
Benjamin Cheng as “Nick”, Victoria Wyant as “Kate”, Jessica Alexander as “Hannah”, Johnny Sequoyah as “Lucy”, and Miguel Torres Umba as “Ben” in Primate from Paramount Pictures.
After the script was written, Roberts hoped it would land in the right hands so that he could get his film made the way he envisioned it
Thankfully, producers Walter Hamada, John Hodges and Bradley Pilz came onboard and were supportive of his creative approach from the start. Hamada, whose resume includes the horror classics It and The Conjuring, has loved the genre since he saw The Shining as a kid. “I thought it was a genius idea and, as I dove into the script, I found that Johannes and Ernest had done something a little different,” he says. “Ben is smart. He has knowledge. He can communicate. He is stalking people in the way that Jason Voorhees and Michael Myers did. It’s part creature movie, but it’s also a classic slasher movie. It’s a great combination of both genres of horror movies.”
Hamada was energized by the positivity Roberts brought to set every day. “Movie shoots are difficult and a director is the captain of the ship. Johannes brings an enthusiasm and a positivity every day. He’s a collaborative filmmaker and he’s really fun to watch on set,” he says. “When the actors are in the pool, he goes in the pool. He doesn’t need to be in the pool. He shouldn’t be in the pool, but he can’t help himself! He wants to be in the action and he’s right in there with his monitor off-camera directing from the water.”
Hodges found the director’s enthusiasm infectious. “Johannes loves this genre,” he says. “He was in his element with this script. The cast, the crew and certainly I felt like we were making something that sits up there with all these films that he reveres.”
The producer adds, “I was excited by the unique antagonist in Primate, as well as the chance to take the legacy of great horror movies of the past to that next level. We’ve created a domestic horror story. There are no ghosts or sci-fi entities. The set and the family are realistic, but the situation is elevated and intense. We did not shy away from the horror or the blood to deliver on our promise.”
The filmmakers doubled down on the immediacy of the story with a crucial decision early in pre-production. Whenever possible, they used practical, in-camera effects created on set, rather than relying on high-tech visual effects in post-production. They went as far as to have top effects house Millennium FX develop a custom-designed “monkey suit” for actor and movement specialist Miguel Torres Umba to wear as Ben in a stunning live-action performance.
Jessica Alexander as “Hannah” and Miguel Torres Umba as “Ben” in Primate from Paramount Pictures.
“We chose practical effects because it is such a visceral movie,” Roberts says. “Primate is a proper old-school horror movie.
After all the movies I’ve made, I have never felt so scared in my gut. Put simply, itis terrifying. It has playful moments but it’s a white-knuckle ride from beginning to end. This kind of mayhem done in camera heightens the tension. You feel the shock of it all. It’s wall-to-wall horror.”
With his vision for an old school, blood-and-guts creature feature realized, Roberts believes that it will have a huge impact on an audience accustomed to CGI. “It really is the kind of old-school filmmaking I’ve always dreamed of doing,” he says. “The technical aspects made it a pretty tricky movie to bring to life but the immediacy of the danger makes it harder-hitting than anything I’ve seen recently. I think the fact that we’ve gone practical with Primate will have a huge impact on the audience. It touched the actors in ways that using VFX could never do. It’s scary for the actors, and that will translate to the audience. They are going to feel there’s a creature that could do you harm. You’ll never get that with CGI alone.”
In retrospect, Hodges admits it was a bit of an audacious gamble. “This is not how movies are necessarily made today,” he says. “It only happened because of all the people that came together: the folks at Paramount who believed in us, Johannes who directed this, and Ernest who wrote this with him. The cinematography, production design, costumes, makeup, everybody gave their all and it shows on screen.”
Ultimately, what makes horror truly terrifying isn’t just the creatures, the jump scares, or the gore — it’s when it feels real, says Hamada. “What makes a horror movie truly scary is that it is grounded in a reality. The idea of someone that you love turning on you is universal and is what makes this film so frightening.”
When Lucy Pinborough (Johnny Sequoyah) returns home to Hawaii after her freshman year in college, she is looking forward to a carefree holiday with pals Hannah (Jessica Alexander), Kate (Victoria Wyant) and Nick (Benjamin Cheng), her sister Erin (Gia Hunter), and the family’s beloved pet chimp, Ben. With her father Adam (Academy Award® winner Troy Kotsur) called away on business, Lucy and the girls are looking forward to decompressing by the pool at the family home, a luxury hideaway tucked into a secluded cliffside. Docile Ben, who was brought up as a treasured sibling of the Pinborough girls, is happy to see Lucy home at last, but the chimp soon becomes uncharacteristically aggressive. As his hostile behavior escalates, Lucy realizes too late that something is seriously wrong with Ben.
Born in Cambridge, England, JOHANNES ROBERTS (Directed by, Co-Written by, Executive Producer) began his career directing independent, low-budget horror films before breaking into mainstream studio films. He first gained attention with the claustrophobic thriller F (2010), followed by the supernatural tale The Other Side of the Door (2016), produced by 20th Century Fox. Roberts earned international recognition with 47 Meters Down (2017) which he wrote and directed, a surprise box-office hit and the highest grossing independent film of the year. Roberts then directed the cult favorite TheStrangers: Prey at Night (2018) and then went on to write and direct the sequel 47 Meters Down: Uncaged (2019). Roberts recently wrote and produced the third film in the 47 Meters series which will be released next year by Lionsgate. In 2021, Roberts wrote and directed Resident Evil: Welcome to Raccoon City for Sony Pictures and Screen Gems, a film adaptation that blended elements of the first two iconic Capcom video games.
ERNEST RIERA (Co-Written by) launched his writing career at 16, publishing short fiction in a local magazine. He most recently co-wrote the Netflix dystopian survival film Nowhere. The film was a global success, becoming the most-watched content (series or movie) worldwide during its first two weeks and ranked as the most consumed non-English language Netflix content globally during its third week. By the end of 2023 it became the most-watched Spanish language film and second most-watched non-English language film in Netflix history. Ernest is best known for co-writing 47 Meters Down the highest-grossing independent film in 2019, and its sequel. He also wrote the 2016 Twentieth Century Fox ghost film The Other Side of the Door. Highlights of his many optioned scripts include an adaptation of Stephen King’s Heart of Atlantis and Brit List finalist 13 O’Clock. In the documentary field, he co-wrote and co-directed the Netflix Original The Last Dolphin King which premiered at IDFA in 2022. He also wrote Overbooking, which was one of the highest-grossing theatrical documentaries in Spain in 2019.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Shelter – A journey of survival and redemption
Shelter is inspired by themes of isolation, redemption, and survival, following Jason Statham as a reclusive man forced to confront his violent past after rescuing a young girl from a deadly storm. Its significance lies in blending muscular action with emotional depth, positioning it as a standout entry in the modern action‑thriller genre.
Directed by Ric Roman Waugh, known for Shot Caller (2017), Angel Has Fallen (2019), and Greenland (2020), the film is written by Ward Parry, a rising screenwriter whose script attracted attention at the 2024 Cannes Film Market.
The plot centers on Michael Mason (Statham), a former assassin living in isolation on a remote coastal island. His solitude is shattered when he rescues a young girl, played by Bodhi Rae Breathnach, from a violent storm. This act of compassion draws him into danger, forcing him to confront enemies from his past while protecting the child. As the narrative unfolds, Mason’s journey becomes one of survival and redemption, with the storm serving as both a literal and metaphorical catalyst.
The inspiration behind Shelter lies in Waugh’s fascination with characters who are both hardened and haunted. His previous films often explored men trapped by their pasts, whether in prison (Shot Caller) or in disaster (Greenland). Here, the isolated island setting becomes a crucible for Mason’s reckoning.
Ward Parry’s screenplay was praised for its balance of high‑stakes action and emotional drama, offering Statham a role that demanded more than brute force.
The significance of Shelter lies in its thematic ambition. While Statham has built his career on action franchises like The Transporter and Fast & Furious, this film positions him in a more introspective role. Mason is not simply a fighter but a man wrestling with guilt, grief, and the possibility of redemption. Critics anticipate that the film will showcase Statham’s range, blending his stoic toughness with emotional resonance. Bill Nighy’s antagonist role adds gravitas, promising a clash of philosophies as well as fists.
Ultimately, Shelter is more than an action thriller; it is a meditation on isolation, redemption, and the impossibility of escaping one’s past. Its significance lies in how it reframes the action genre, offering audiences not just fights and chases but a story about the human need for connection and the courage to confront buried truths.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Send Help – An action-packed survival thriller
Send Help, a psychological thriller from director/producer Sam Raimi, expertly balances horror with dark comedy as it explores the escalating twists and turns that unfold when overlooked and undervalued employee Linda Liddle (Rachel McAdams) and her dismissive, arrogant new boss Bradley Preston (Dylan O’Brien) find themselves stranded alone on a deserted island.
Send Help is based on a screenplay by writing duo Damian Shannon and Mark Swift
Shannon and Swift, like Raimi, have a deep-rooted appreciation for mixed-genre storytelling. As such, they had been actively developing ideas with Raimi in mind since the early stages of their career. “One of the reasons our taste is what it is, is because in our formative years we watched a lot of Sam Raimi movies,” Shannon says. “You know a Sam Raimi movie when you see it.”
“We heard that Sam wanted to do an elevated thriller-horror,” Swift continues. “We looked in our bag, found our Linda Liddle concept, and put the pitch and screenplay together.”
They brought their pitch for “Send Help” to Raimi by way of Zainab Azizi, his trusted producing partner and president of his production company, Raimi Productions. The idea of a female antihero–rare enough–and unpredictable shifting power dynamics was the core concept.
“We developed this pitch for Sam,” Azizi explains. “It has scares, laughs and the chills and thrills that Sam loves to do. He is all about expecting the unexpected.”
As Raimi puts it, “Zainab came to me and said, ‘I just heard this story, and it’s great. We have to get involved with it.’ I met with the writers and Zainab, and we heard their pitch. It was great, as she promised. I was excited by it, excited about the story and the character possibilities. That’s really what drew me to it.”
“I also loved the ‘What if?’ aspect of the screenplay,” continues Raimi. “What if a woman was cheated by the boys’ club at work, held down by corporate management and a terrible, mean boss who treats her unfairly? What if she were unable to succeed because of the way things inherently are in our society? And what if they crash-landed on an island and the roles were reversed? She knows how to survive in the wild. It’s her hobby, but all Bradley knows is corporate politics and management. He knows nothing useful when it comes to surviving in the real world. We learn who is capable and who is not.”
“Sam saw how much was in these two very different characters colliding,” Swift adds. “He loves big arcs, and where Linda starts in this movie and where she ends are very different places. Likewise for Bradley. I think Sam was excited about the challenge of taking the audience on this ride in terms of who they’re rooting for and what kind of surprises lie in between.”
The initial draw for Azizi was the idea of rooting for a relatable underdog. “My vision was heavily focused on Linda Liddle as a character and her lifestyle in the office. We’ve all been Linda in some form. We’ve worked really hard and been underappreciated, and it’s time for some justice. I attached myself as producer from pitch, and we developed it into a full-length feature.
Sam’s brilliant vision brought it to life by 10 and made it into the kooky, wild roller-coaster ride that it is today. It took a couple of years, and now we’re here.”
“Zainab had the screenplay under her arm,” says Shannon. “She had her machete, and she chopped through the Hollywood jungle, taking this where it needed to go.”
SAM RAIMI (DIRECTOR, PRODUCER)
Director, writer and producer Sam Raimi first rose to prominence with the beloved cult classic trilogy The Evil Dead, Evil Dead II and Army of Darkness. Raimi quickly established himself as a genre-bending innovator, directing early-career hits including Darkman, The Quick and the Dead, A Simple Plan, For the Love of the Game, and The Gift. Raimi notably directed the blockbuster Spider-Man trilogy, the supernatural horror-comedy hit Drag Me to Hell; and the 2022 Marvel Studios tentpole Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness. Raimi’s genre-defining producer credits include The Grudge, Don’t Breathe, and the critically acclaimed Starz series Ash vs Evil Dead, a sequel to his The Evil Dead trilogy.
SCREENWRITERS DAMIAN SHANNON AND MARK SWIFT
Damian Shannon and Mark Swift are an American screenwriting duo known for their long‑standing partnership in genre filmmaking, particularly horror and horror‑comedy. They met while studying at the University of Southern California and quickly discovered a shared instinct for high‑concept, commercially driven storytelling. Their breakthrough came with Freddy vs. Jason (2003), the long‑anticipated crossover that re‑energised both franchises and established them as reliable voices in studio horror. They went on to contribute to DreamWorks’ animated hit Shark Tale (2004), write the 2009 reboot of Friday the 13th, and expand into action‑comedy with Baywatch (2017). Beyond produced work, they have developed a wide slate of projects for major studios, including Disney’s planned Aladdin prequel Genies, as well as adaptations of Danger Girl, Hawaiian Dick, and Power & Glory. Their more recent work includes Send Help (2026), a darkly comic psychological thriller shaped by their long‑standing admiration for Sam Raimi. Known for blending humour with tension, revitalising established properties, and navigating both franchise and original material, Shannon and Swift remain a distinctive creative partnership in contemporary genre cinema.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on From Stage Triumph to Screen Legacy: Merrily We Roll Along
When Maria Friedman’s Merrily We Roll Along opened on Broadway in 2023, it was immediately clear that something extraordinary had happened.
A musical once dismissed as one of Stephen Sondheim’s most notorious flops had been reborn with such clarity, emotional force, and interpretive intelligence that it felt less like a revival and more like a reclamation.
By the time the production closed, it had shattered the Hudson Theatre’s box‑office records. It won four Tony Awards, including Best Revival of a Musical and acting honours for Jonathan Groff and Daniel Radcliffe. It was, in every sense, a phenomenon.
Lindsay Mendez as Mary Flynn, the writer‑novelist whose unrequited love and fierce devotion give the narrative its aching emotional spine, Katie Rose Clarke as Beth, Franklin’s first wife, whose heartbreak is one of the film’s most devastating moments, Jonathan Groff as Franklin Shepard, the ambitious composer whose rise and unravelling anchor the story, and Daniel Radcliffe plays Charley Kringas, Franklin’s idealistic writing partner whose loyalty and frustration form one of the film’s emotional pillars.
And in 2025, Friedman’s vision was preserved on film — not as a glossy Hollywood adaptation, but as a cinematic capture that honours the electricity of live performance while offering a new, intimate way of experiencing the material.
Directed by Friedman herself, the film stars Jonathan Groff as Franklin Shepard, Daniel Radcliffe as Charley Kringas, and Lindsay Mendez as Mary Flynn, the same trio whose chemistry had ignited Broadway. Their performances, honed over hundreds of live shows, arrive on screen with a rare combination of precision and spontaneity. The film is not merely a record of a stage production; it is a time capsule of a creative moment that reshaped the legacy of a misunderstood musical.
Maria Friedman’s 2025 filmed version of Merrily We Roll Along is available primarily through digital rental and purchase, making it accessible to a wide audience long after its celebrated Broadway run. The film can be streamed on major platforms such as Apple TV, Prime Video, and Fandango at Home
The story of Merrily We Roll Along remains one of the most structurally daring in the musical theatre canon
Based on the 1934 play by George S. Kaufman and Moss Hart, with a book by George Furth and music and lyrics by Stephen Sondheim, the narrative unfolds in reverse. It begins in 1976 with the collapse of a friendship between three artists — composer Franklin, writer Mary, and playwright‑lyricist Charley — and moves backward through the years to reveal the idealism, hope, and creative fire that once bound them together. The backward structure transforms the story into a meditation on time, regret, and the fragile architecture of human connection.
Friedman’s interpretation, both on stage and on film, is rooted in emotional clarity. She approaches the reverse chronology not as a gimmick but as a way of excavating the human cost of ambition. Her direction emphasises the small gestures — a glance, a hesitation, a moment of unspoken longing — that accumulate into the heartbreak of the opening scenes. By the time the story reaches its final moment, with the young trio standing on a rooftop dreaming of the future, the audience carries the weight of everything that will eventually unravel. It is one of the most devastating and beautiful endings in musical theatre, and Friedman’s film preserves that emotional arc with remarkable fidelity.
The decision to film the production emerged late in its Broadway run. As Friedman explained, the creative team realised that the cast would not be recast and that this particular constellation of performers, at this particular moment, could never be replicated. The film became a way to “bottle” the production — to preserve not just the staging but the lived experience of a company that had grown together over the course of hundreds of performances. Financing came together quickly, a testament to the production’s acclaim and the affection it inspired among audiences and industry figures alike.
For the actors, the transition from stage to screen was both exhilarating and daunting
Daniel Radcliffe spoke about the bittersweet nature of capturing a performance that had evolved nightly: theatre is ephemeral, he noted, and the idea of fixing a single version forever felt both like a blessing and a curse. Jonathan Groff echoed this sentiment, recalling how filmed theatre can shape public memory — how one captured performance can become the definitive version in the cultural imagination. Yet both actors ultimately embraced the opportunity, recognising that Friedman’s production had earned a place in the historical record.
The film’s significance extends beyond its preservation of a celebrated revival
It represents a rare moment in which a stage production, rather than being adapted or reimagined, is translated directly into a cinematic experience without losing its theatrical soul. Friedman’s approach to filming is intimate, often using close‑ups to capture emotional nuance that might be lost in a proscenium setting. Some viewers found the technique unconventional, even disorienting, but it reflects Friedman’s belief that the heart of Merrily lies in the faces of its characters — in the flickers of hope, disappointment, and longing that define their relationships.
The film also serves as a kind of cultural redemption for Merrily We Roll Along. When the musical premiered on Broadway in 1981, it closed after just 16 performances, bewildering audiences with its reverse structure and youthful cast. Over the decades, the show developed a devoted following, admired for its ambition and emotional depth, but it remained a puzzle — a brilliant work that had never fully landed with mainstream audiences. Friedman’s revival changed that. Her production clarified the storytelling, deepened the emotional stakes, and revealed the musical’s aching humanity. The film ensures that this revelatory interpretation will endure.
Moreover, the film arrives at a moment when stories about friendship, artistic integrity, and the cost of ambition resonate with renewed urgency. In an era defined by rapid change and creative burnout, Merrily feels painfully contemporary. Franklin’s compromises, Charley’s idealism, Mary’s unrequited devotion — these are not relics of a bygone era but reflections of the pressures that shape modern creative lives. The film invites viewers to consider the choices that define them, the dreams they have abandoned, and the relationships that have sustained or faltered along the way.
Ultimately, Maria Friedman’s Merrily We Roll Along is more than a filmed stage production. It is a cinematic elegy for friendship, a tribute to Sondheim’s genius, and a testament to the transformative power of performance. It captures a fleeting moment in Broadway history and preserves it with tenderness, intelligence, and emotional precision. For audiences who witnessed the revival live, the film is a chance to revisit a beloved experience. For those encountering it for the first time, it is an invitation into one of the most moving and complex works in the musical theatre canon — a story that rolls backward through time but lingers long after the final frame.
Stephen Sondheim’s genius resists easy definition because it lives in the spaces where craft meets courage, where musical intelligence meets emotional excavation. Few artists have reshaped an entire art form as profoundly as he did, and fewer still have done so by insisting that audiences could handle complexity — moral, musical, psychological — without being spoon‑fed sentiment. His work transformed the American musical from a vehicle of escapism into a medium capable of confronting the contradictions of being human.
Sondheim’s brilliance began with language. His lyrics, famously precise and psychologically acute, revealed character through rhythm, syntax, and subtext. This gift was evident from his earliest successes as a lyricist on West Side Story (1957) and Gypsy (1959), where his sharp, poetic writing helped redefine what musical theatre could sound like. But his true revolution came when he began composing as well as writing lyrics. Shows like Company (1970), Follies (1971), and A Little Night Music (1973) demonstrated a new kind of musical sophistication — harmonically rich, structurally daring, and emotionally layered. He trusted audiences to follow intricate melodies, shifting tonalities, and characters who were flawed, ambivalent, and painfully real.
What made Sondheim singular was his refusal to repeat himself. Each musical was a new experiment in form and storytelling. Sweeney Todd (1979) fused operatic grandeur with Grand Guignol horror, turning a Victorian melodrama into a meditation on injustice and obsession. Sunday in the Park with George (1984) explored artistic creation through pointillist musical motifs that mirrored Georges Seurat’s painting technique. Into the Woods (1987) dismantled fairy tales to reveal the moral ambiguities beneath childhood stories. Assassins (1990) confronted the darkest corners of American mythology. These works were not designed to comfort; they were designed to provoke, to question, to illuminate. His music and lyrics were characterized by “complexity, sophistication, and ambivalence,” as noted in his biography — qualities that became his signature.
Sondheim’s genius also lay in his collaborations. Mentored by Oscar Hammerstein II, he absorbed the principles of dramatic songwriting — clarity, character, storytelling — and then pushed them into new territory. His partnerships with director Harold Prince and writer James Lapine produced some of the most groundbreaking musicals of the 20th century, works that expanded the emotional and intellectual possibilities of the form. He was, as many critics have observed, the rare composer‑lyricist whose shows reward repeated listening. Beneath the surface wit lies a deep empathy for human frailty. His characters yearn, fail, compromise, dream, and self‑sabotage in ways that feel intimately familiar.
The accolades — eight Tony Awards, eight Grammys, an Academy Award, the Pulitzer Prize, the Presidential Medal of Freedom — only hint at his impact. More telling is the way performers, directors, and audiences speak of him: as a teacher, a provocateur, a craftsman of the highest order. His songs have become emotional touchstones, not because they are easy to sing, but because they articulate truths that are difficult to say. Sondheim’s genius was not simply that he reinvented the musical; it was that he believed the musical could hold the full weight of human experience — its contradictions, its sorrows, its fleeting moments of grace. His legacy endures because he trusted the art form, and the audience, to be braver than they knew.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on The Strangers: Chapter 3 – A bold conclusion to a trilogy that redefines a modern horror classic
The Strangers: Chapter 3 arrives as the brutal, breath‑stealing finale of Renny Harlin’s ambitious horror trilogy, a project that reimagines and expands Bryan Bertino’s original home‑invasion mythology for a new generation.
Directed by Harlin and written by Alan R. Cohen and Alan Freedland, the film completes a three‑chapter narrative shot almost entirely in one intense production block in Bratislava, Slovakia.
This unusual approach—filming all three entries back‑to‑back—allowed Harlin to craft a continuous visual and emotional arc, shaping the trilogy into a single, escalating nightmare. The inspiration behind the trilogy stems from the enduring cultural fascination with faceless violence and the terrifying randomness of being targeted “just because you were home,” the chilling premise that made the 2008 original so iconic. Harlin’s vision pushes this idea further, exploring not only survival but the psychological aftermath of being hunted.
The Strangers: Chapter 3 marks the culmination of Lionsgate’s attempt to build a full “Strangers universe,” a horror saga that deepens the lore behind the masked killers while grounding the terror in character‑driven storytelling.
It also stands out as the most expansive chapter, shaped by audience feedback from the release of Chapter 1, which prompted additional photography and refinements across both sequels.
With this new and final chapter of The Strangers, the epic of Maya and her encounter — and subsequent entanglement — with the titular killers comes to a satisfying, yet surprising, conclusion.
As Courtney Solomon, one of the film’s producers, puts it, “The cat and mouse portion of Maya’s story is gone, and now we get to see the effects of what this awful experience over the few days she has been stuck in this weird small town has had on her.” Madeline Petsch, who plays Maya, concurs: “Maya is no longer even one percent of the person that she was when she first drove into Venus, Oregon. By the beginning of this chapter, she’s been stripped of all of her humanity and left with the question: ‘What is there to live for? Who have I become?’”
Madelaine Petsch as Maya and Gabriel Basso as Gregory in The Strangers – Chapter 3. Photo Credit: John Armour
That’s the theme throughout this installment: Transformation.
We’ve already seen Maya taking matters into her own hands at the end of the previous chapter by killing Pinup. But what is it like for her character to go from self-defense to something else, something… stranger?
“I think her transformation will be divisive, which I like,” Petsch says. “But we’ve spent so much time with this character over the past four-and-a-half hours that my hope would be that audiences feel that that transformation is earned.”
The Strangers – Chapter 3. Photo Credit: Jordy Clarke/Lionsgate
Writing and Themes
That journey picks up where the last chapter ended: With Maya having killed Pinup, otherwise known to us as Shelly, the waitress (Ema Horvath). From the woods along the side of the road, she watches as Scarecrow/Gregory (Gabriel Basso) mourns over the body of his lover and oldest friend.
This is the first time in the course of the story that The Strangers have shown an emotive register other than a relentless drive to kill and torture. What we witness, in fact, is grief, not unlike what Maya herself felt over the death (and body) of her boyfriend, Ryan, back in the first chapter. “We wanted to give [the Strangers] more dimensions and show that they have loyalty and affection for each other,” Renny Harlin, the director, says. Gabriel Basso adds that “playing Gregory was an interesting challenge. You have to portray both the totally dissociated, emotionless murderer, yet also get the audience to believe he’s affected by his loss of Pinup.”
Gabriel Basso as Gregory in The Strangers – Chapter 3. Photo Credit: Jordy Clarke/Lionsgate
That glimpse into The Strangers’ humanity is just that: a brief reprieve from their single-minded mission and the terror it inflicts on those around them.
“I think that what makes the Strangers scary is that they’re regular people who just want to kill,” Petsch says. “It’s just so much more terrifying when she sees Scarecrow mourning Pinup, she sees that she’s killed someone who matters to him — that makes him, in her eyes, all the more set on a path of terror, headed straight towards her.” “We made the choice to make these killers human,” Solomon explains, “because they are human. They are terrifying, and even more terrifying that they live among us, and if they’re not wearing their masks, it would likely be impossible for us to spot one.”
And yet, once The Strangers’ pursuit of Maya resumes, the tenor of the proceedings change. The masks are off, but the stakes are higher than ever before: It is not just Maya’s body but her soul that’s under threat. These religious underpinnings are seen in an early conversation that takes place between Maya and Gregory inside a church — a place of sanctuary between the madness of the past two days and that yet to come.
The filmmakers are the first to acknowledge the reception of the first two movies in the trilogy. “I think the three-chapter structure has made it more fragmented and difficult for people to feel the full arc… [as opposed to] if it had just played out in a long movie, uninterrupted,” Solomon explains. “[In the first film], Maya is purposefully supposed to be a deer in the headlights, not a normal horror protagonist who fights back right away or makes good decisions. In [the second film], the story progression is subtle: Maya gains survival skills, experiences her first kills by her own hands, deals with PTSD and shock — after all, the events of the first film are barely 36 hours old.”
By the time we reach this chapter, then, we’re primed to witness Maya, in Harlin’s words, fully turn into “an avenging angel who takes the law into her own hands, when no one else will help her, when she’s been pushed too far.” In keeping with the theme of transformation, however, the change within Maya doesn’t stop there. Harlin continues: “She also becomes a woman whose unfathomable losses and inhumane treatment finally turn a switch and make her capable of actions that most of us couldn’t even imagine committing.”
As the old saying goes, the last scene of the movie should happen outside the theater, as audiences discuss the ending and its implications for everything that came before.
That is exactly the hope that Harlin has for the finished film — and the series as a whole. “I’d love for the audience to debate who Maya really is,” he says, “and what she really feels at the conclusion of the story.” Solomon is confident that “audiences will be satisfied with Maya’s arc and where she ends up,” which he describes as “chilling, disturbing, satisfying – and also fun.”
“The reason we made these films was to get to this place,” Petsch says, “so people finally get to see the resolution of this one giant story. I really believe the end of this film is going to create such discourse and conversation that you want to watch it with people so you can walk out of the theater and discuss it with them.” When explaining why the film should be seen in theaters, Petsch gushes that “it’s such a world-building film. We spent so much time making sure that every single frame was paired perfectly with sound to each individual speaker in the theater. When you watch it on a big screen, you’re going to feel immersed in it.”
Solomon wants to clarify one point that’s confused some fans of the original 2008 The Strangers and its 2018 sequel, The Strangers: Prey at Night. “Our Strangers universe is not the same one as that of the originals,” he explains. “We made something different and used the storyline of the original to start our universe. What we always hoped to accomplish was to introduce The Strangers to a whole new set of fans who are excited to see how this odyssey ends.”
RENNY HARLIN (DIRECTOR) Renny Harlin has established himself globally as a filmmaker with the ability to identify and develop a wide range of material. His credits span multiple genres and include action-oriented blockbusters, horror films, comedies, and critically acclaimed dramas, including: A Nightmare on Elm Street 4 – The Dream Master, Die Hard 2: Die Harder, and Deep Blue Sea. Harlin also directed and produced the blockbuster Cliffhanger, which established Harlin as one of Hollywood’s premier action directors before The Long Kiss Goodnight.
In 1991, Harlin made his producing debut with the critically lauded Rambling Rose. Harlin went on to produce Speechless and Blast from the Past. At the end of 2011, Harlin wanted to expand his production company, Midnight Sun Pictures which began development within the television landscape. Over the next two years, Harlin went on to direct four episodes of “Burn Notice” including a Season Finale and a mid-Season Finale; an episode of “White Collar”; and the Season Finale of “Covert Affairs”, all for the USA Network. Harlin also directed three back-to-back episodes of the USA Network’s hit action-thriller “Graceland” which began airing in the Summer of 2013. After over two decades of success in Hollywood, Harlin embarked on a career producing and directing films in China. Harlin and global superstar Jackie Chan teamed up for Skiptrace, which was a box-office mega hit and led to Harlin working on The Legend of the Ancient Sword and the action-thriller Bodies at Rest. An additional credit during this time was The Misfits and The Bricklayer. In 2023, Harlin directed The Strangers – Chapters 1, 2, and 3. Prolific Harlin is in post-production on two more features: the disaster thriller Deep Water, and the action thriller The Beast. Harlin started principal photography on his latest film, a survival thriller, Black Tides. Harlin says he has finally found everything he was looking for in life, loves making movies back in the Hollywood mainstream and resides in Miami, Florida.
ALAN R. COHEN & ALAN FREEDLAND (WRITERS) Alan R. Cohen and Alan Freedland are Primetime Emmy® Award-winning writers, producers, and showrunners working in both television and movies. In TV, they have written and produced shows including “King of the Hill,” “American Dad!,” “Impastor,” and Amazon’s comedy series “Betas.” They also co-created and were showrunners for the Comedy Central cult hit “Kid Notorious,” starring Robert Evans. Currently, they are co-creators and showrunners of the animated series “The Freak Brothers” for TUBI, starring Woody Harrelson, Pete Davidson, John Goodman, and Tiffany Haddish. Cohen and Freedland co-wrote the Todd Phillips-directed movie Due Date starring Robert Downey Jr. and Zach Galifianakis, which grossed over $200 million worldwide. They have written feature scripts for all the major studios. Cohen is a George Washington University graduate who hails from Pittsburgh. Freedland is a University of Michigan man originally from Detroit.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on The History of Sound: A Love Story Etched in Wax and Memory
When Oliver Hermanus premiered The History of Sound at the 2025 Cannes Film Festival, the film arrived with the quiet force of something both intimate and monumental.
Adapted by Ben Shattuck from his own short stories—“The History of Sound” and “Origin Stories”—the film extends a lineage of queer historical narratives while carving out its own distinct emotional terrain. It is a work of tenderness and ache, a meditation on the fragility of connection, and a portrait of two young men who try to preserve the world’s music even as they struggle to preserve each other.
At its core, The History of Sound is a story about listening—listening to the land, to strangers, to the past, and to the tremors of one’s own heart. Hermanus, whose earlier films Moffie and Living explored repression, longing, and the quiet violence of social expectation, brings a similar sensitivity here. But this time, the canvas is broader, the romance more central, and the emotional stakes more exposed.
The History of Sound is not simply a period romance. It is a study of how people imprint on one another, how art becomes a vessel for longing, and how the past continues to echo long after the wax has cracked. Hermanus and Shattuck have crafted a film that feels both timeless and urgently present—a work that asks us to listen closely, because nothing lasts forever.
The Story: Two Men, One Winter, and a Country’s Vanishing Songs
Set between 1917 and the mid‑1920s, the film follows Lionel Worthing (Paul Mescal) and David White (Josh O’Connor), two students at the New England Conservatory of Music who meet in Boston just as the United States enters World War I. Their connection is immediate—rooted in music, curiosity, and a shared hunger for something beyond the polite boundaries of their world.
When David is drafted, the war interrupts their fragile beginning. Lionel, whose eyesight exempts him from service, returns to Kentucky after the conservatory closes. The film’s early passages are marked by this separation: two young men suspended between desire and duty, each reshaped by forces larger than themselves.
Their reunion in 1919 sets the narrative in motion. David, now working at a college in Maine, invites Lionel to join him on a winter expedition to record folk songs on wax cylinders—an effort to capture the voices of rural Americans before they vanish into the churn of modernity. The journey becomes a crucible: a test of their bond, a confrontation with their differences, and a brief, luminous chapter in a relationship destined to fracture.
The film’s structure—framed by an older Lionel (played by Chris Cooper) reflecting on his life—adds a layer of elegy. Memory becomes both refuge and wound, a place where love survives even when the lovers do not.
The Creative Forces Behind the Film
Ben Shattuck: The Writer Who Heard the Past Whisper
Shattuck’s original short story “The History of Sound” was already a quiet marvel—an exploration of intimacy, loss, and the ephemeral nature of recorded sound. His decision to adapt his own work for the screen ensures that the film retains the story’s emotional DNA. The screenplay expands the narrative’s scope while preserving its delicate attention to sensory detail: the crackle of wax cylinders, the hush of snow‑covered forests, the tremor of a voice captured in a moment of vulnerability.
Shattuck’s writing is rooted in the idea that sound is a form of memory—fragile, fleeting, and profoundly human. That belief becomes the film’s heartbeat.
Oliver Hermanus: A Director Drawn to Quiet Catastrophes
Hermanus, a South African filmmaker known for his precise, emotionally charged direction, brings a restrained yet deeply felt sensibility to the material. Critics have noted how The History of Sound echoes elements of his earlier work—particularly the queer longing of Moffie and the reflective melancholy of Living.
But this film marks a shift. Hermanus leans into romance, into the sensuality of music, into the ache of what might have been. His direction is patient, allowing silence to speak and glances to carry the weight of entire histories.
What Inspired the Film
The film’s inspiration lies in Shattuck’s fascination with early ethnographic recording expeditions—those strange, beautiful undertakings where scholars and musicians traveled into rural communities to capture songs before they disappeared. These expeditions were acts of preservation, but also acts of intrusion, collaboration, and cultural exchange.
Shattuck imagined what such a journey might mean for two young men in 1920—men whose desires could not be spoken aloud, whose futures were shaped by war, and whose understanding of themselves was still forming. The wax cylinders become metaphors: fragile vessels holding voices that might otherwise be lost.
Hermanus, in turn, was drawn to the emotional undercurrents of the story—the tension between intimacy and impermanence, between what is recorded and what slips away. His visual style amplifies this inspiration: landscapes that feel both vast and claustrophobic, interiors lit like half‑remembered dreams, and a camera that lingers on faces as if trying to memorize them.
The Film’s Significance
A Queer Historical Romance Told with Grace and Gravity In a cinematic landscape where queer stories often lean toward tragedy or triumph, The History of Sound occupies a more nuanced space. It is neither a cautionary tale nor a triumphant manifesto. Instead, it is a portrait of love shaped by circumstance—tender, flawed, and deeply human. The film’s significance lies in its refusal to sensationalise. It treats queer desire as something ordinary and sacred, woven into the fabric of history rather than existing outside it.
A Meditation on Preservation and Loss The act of recording folk songs becomes a metaphor for the film’s larger concerns: What do we choose to preserve? What do we allow to fade? How do we hold onto the people who shape us? The wax cylinders—objects that can shatter with a single drop—mirror the fragility of Lionel and David’s relationship. Their journey is an attempt to capture something ephemeral, knowing all the while that time will erode even the most carefully preserved memories.
A Showcase for Two of the Most Compelling Actors of Their Generation Paul Mescal and Josh O’Connor bring a rare emotional precision to their roles. Critics have praised their chemistry, their restraint, and the way they inhabit the film’s long silences. Their performances anchor the story, giving it both heat and heartbreak.
A Continuation of Hermanus’s Exploration of Masculinity and Vulnerability Hermanus has long been interested in the ways men navigate desire, fear, and societal expectation. The History of Sound extends this exploration into new territory—one shaped by music, memory, and the shifting cultural landscape of early 20th‑century America.
A Film That Listens to the Past In an era obsessed with spectacle, The History of Sound is a reminder of cinema’s quieter powers. It listens. It observes. It invites the audience into a world where sound becomes a form of intimacy, and where the smallest moments carry the greatest emotional weight.
South African filmmaker Oliver Hermanus has emerged as one of the most distinctive voices in contemporary cinema, known for his visually precise, emotionally charged explorations of identity, repression, and the quiet ruptures that shape human lives. Born in Cape Town in 1983 and raised in Plettenberg Bay during the final years of apartheid, Hermanus grew up in a politically engaged family whose activism and lived experience of segregation subtly inform the moral undercurrents of his work. After studying film, media, and visual studies at the University of Cape Town, he received a private scholarship from director Roland Emmerich to attend the London Film School, where he completed his master’s degree and began shaping the aesthetic discipline that defines his films. His debut, Shirley Adams (2009), announced a filmmaker of rare sensitivity, while Beauty (2011) won the Queer Palm at Cannes and established him internationally as a bold chronicler of queer interiority. Subsequent films—including The Endless River (2015), Moffie (2019), and the BAFTA‑nominated Living (2022)—deepened his reputation for crafting intimate, psychologically layered narratives. With The History of Sound (2025), Hermanus extends his reach into American period romance, bringing his signature blend of restraint, sensuality, and emotional precision to a story of love, memory, and the fragile echoes that shape a life.
Ben Shattuck
American writer, painter, and curator Ben Shattuck has built a career at the intersection of art, history, and storytelling, crafting work that blends meticulous research with a deep emotional intelligence. Born in Massachusetts in 1984 to a family immersed in the arts—his mother a gallery owner, his father a painter—Shattuck grew up surrounded by creative practice and the rhythms of New England’s coastal landscapes. After studying at Deerfield Academy and earning his BA from Cornell University, he completed an MFA at the Iowa Writers’ Workshop, where he later taught fiction writing. His essays and stories began appearing in major literary magazines, with his breakout short story “The History of Sound” winning a Pushcart Prize and later inspiring both his acclaimed 2024 story collection and the screenplay for the 2025 film adaptation. Shattuck’s nonfiction debut, Six Walks, retraced the footsteps of Henry David Thoreau and earned widespread critical praise for its blend of memoir, natural history, and philosophical reflection. His fiction, meanwhile, has been celebrated for its lyrical precision, historical depth, and the way his narratives echo across centuries. Shattuck lives on the Massachusetts coast with his wife, actor and writer Jenny Slate, and their daughter, continuing to write from a studio filled with artifacts, natural curiosities, and the quiet rituals that shape his creative life.
The History of Sound is currently available through a mix of streaming platforms, digital rental services, and limited theatrical screenings, giving viewers several ways to experience Oliver Hermanus’s acclaimed historical romance. According to the latest verified listings, the film can be streamed on MUBI or through the MUBI Amazon Channel, making it accessible to subscribers who prefer curated, art‑house platforms. For those who want to rent or purchase it digitally, the film is offered on Amazon Video, Apple TV, and Fandango At Home.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Mercy – Artificial Intelligence serves as judge, jury and executioner.
Mercy (2026) emerges as one of the most anticipated science fiction thrillers of the decade, a film that combines the urgency of courtroom drama with the speculative imagination of near-future dystopia.
Directed by Timur Bekmambetov, the Russian-Kazakh filmmaker best known for Night Watch (2004), Wanted (2008), and his pioneering “Screenlife” format (Unfriended, Searching), the film is written by Marco van Belle, a British screenwriter whose work often blends genre storytelling with philosophical undertones.
Together, they craft a narrative that is both gripping and unsettling, situating audiences in a Los Angeles of 2029 where justice has been automated, and human lives are judged by artificial intelligence.
Imagine you awaken to find yourself strapped into a chair, face to face with a judge who informs you that you’ve been accused of murder— and unless you can exonerate yourself in 90 minutes, you’ll be executed instantly. You have access to every bit of camera footage on the web to prove your case, and you can use that to convince the judge of your innocence. Yet all of that private and public surveillance footage could put you closer to a guilty verdict.
It’s a nightmare scenario. And in the exciting, revolutionary, visually dynamic action thriller Mercy, it takes on future-world overtones as Artificial Intelligence serves as judge, jury and executioner.
In Mercy, it’s the year 2029, and Det. Chris Raven (Chris Pratt) wakes up in that reality. The judge he’s in front of is an artificial intelligence he once championed personified as a human — specifically, the formidable Judge Maddox (Rebecca Ferguson). Raven is a Los Angeles police detective accused of murdering his wife, Nicole (Annabelle Wallis ). As he tries to find scraps of doubt amongst almost 24/7 footage of himself, Maddox decides whether the alibis he’s grasping at are either helpful or harmful to his case. Raven needs to get down to a 92 per cent probability of guilt…yet the closer he creeps up to 98 per cent guilt, the more likely it is he’ll be executed on the spot in what is known as the Mercy Chair.
Predicting The Ethics And Visuals Of AI
Mercy screenwriter Marco van Belle explains that he melded old and new ideas for his forward-thinking script — and then watched as real life caught up with this kinetic mystery thriller.
“I was researching predictions for scientific and technological advancements in the near future when I found articles mentioning the possible application of AI in justice systems,” says van Belle. “When I found a news report about an AI judge being created in Estonia to handle decision-making in civil cases, I realized these were being actively developed with the intent to deploy them. I saw the incredible potential to reinvigorate the legal thriller/courtroom drama genre by framing a trial within an AI court.”
“The idea to focus the story on a capital-punishment trial came quickly, because this was a way to inject life-and-death stakes,” van Belle continues. “The capital court system also felt like a believable candidate for the incorporation of AI as a safeguard against human error, given that there has been very public criticism of miscarriages of justice in death penalty cases over the years. So I made it a high-stakes story that felt like it could believably incorporate AI without stretching the bounds of narrative credibility.”
To render the ideas behind Mercy as truthfully as possible, early on the filmmakers sent Marco Van Belle’s script to an expert in AI ethics for feedback and to see if its ideas held weight.
Benjamin Boudreaux is a policy researcher at the Rand School for Social Science and a former advisor to the Obama Administration on International Technology Diplomacy who helped advise the MERCY filmmakers about the emerging ethics of Artificial Intelligence. The story, Boudreaux says, addresses in a thriller format some of the work AI experts are grappling with.
“The general concept of looking towards AI and data analysis tools to improve criminal justice — as well as to predict crime, determine guilt, and assess a threat or risk to society — is right now actively going on in police departments around the country,” says Boudreaux. “New types of data analysis tools are things that AI tools can make much faster and more effective.”
Boudreaux says that, just as in Mercy, AI is assumed to have less biases than human beings. “The use of AI in legal systems is also about trying to get around issues like, for instance, that judges are grumpier before lunch and so might sentence a person more harshly at that time,” says Boudreaux. “Humans are certainly fallible and biased. So the promise — or the proposal — of using AI tools is that they will diminish this type of human inconsistency and make more data-driven decisions.”
The Excitement And Promise Of Screenlife
The history of the movies has been about watching the narrative form evolve. With his Screenlife films, director Timur Bekmambetov has created the 21st century’s true merging of cinema and interactive technology in Unfriended (2015), Searching (2018), and Profile (2021). Mercy takes another leap — one that the theatre experience and exhilaration of the big screen make a high-powered viewing event.
The film’s commercial and audience-pleasing high points are anchored in the story’s reflecting the moment in which it was made. “The Screenlife genre requires believable performances and very grounded storytelling,” says Bekmambetov. “When I began Mercy, I thought, ‘In real life I live in two realities at once — the physical world, and a world of windows, buttons, clicks, messages. I work, I fight with people, forgive people, all not in the physical world. So why are we are not telling stories about that?’”
“I thought of a genre in which the story is happening 100 percent, or mostly, onscreen,” continues Bekmambetov. “That was, of course, a very extreme approach. But it was interesting for me to provoke screenwriters and myself to refuse traditional film language and to try and tell stories using a language we never spoke before. I said, We should see the screen of the protagonist and it should be in real time. We need to believe that we’re with them. And that became Unfriended. And I saw that our idea worked. And then we made Searching, and then Profile.”
“Every film is different because a director alters the cinematic language every time,” says Bekmambetov. “Screenlife needs different camerawork because in Screenlife, the camera is a character — often from phone or computer images. But we have to make decisions like, where to put the camera? I want to point the camera in a different direction because it’ll look real. But ultimately, the story must be engaging, and the characters relatable, as in any movie. This is just a new way to present a story.”
The film is brought to wildly vibrant life by visionary filmmaker Timur Bekmambetov
Bekmambetov is renowend for directing Wanted, Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter, and Ben-Hur , his groundbreaking films Night Watch (2004) and Day Watch (2006) were wildly influential, and whose films using his unique Screenlife style and format — Unfriended (2015), Searching (2018), and Profile (2021) — moved cinema forward into integrating aspects of the digital world as cutting-edge visual technology is represented narratively on the big screen.
“Mercy is a very intense, thrilling mystery, a new approach to the Screenlife language with a very entertaining, serious, impactful subject,” says Bekmambetov. “I loved this story not just as a Screenlife movie, but as a traditional movie. It involves how we behave and interact with technology.”
“This is a suspense thriller with a bit of science-fiction to it, though it could become science reality,” says Academy Award-winning producer Charles Roven (Oppenheimer, Wonder Woman, American Hustle, The Dark Knight, Batman Begins). “Our world is constantly coming to grips with innovations, and AI is one of them. It’s good or bad, depending on how we use it.”
Roven explains how the Screenlife technology the film utilises makes the film’s storytelling as cutting-edge as its conceit: “The most complicated part of the movie was designing and placing the multiple imagery in each scene, or in many of the shots. That was a process I had never done before, even though I’ve done many movies with lots of visual effects in them that were complicated on an individual-shot basis. However, I’ve never done one that utilises so many different single shots in one image, the way Mercy does. And the different images and screens help audiences understand what Chris Raven has gone through, giving us details about how he got to where he is when the film opens.”
“When I first read this script, it blew my mind,” says producer Robert Amidon (TV’s What/If and Triple Frontier). “It had such a fresh concept. And today, it’s amazing where we are with technology and the advancements in AI and how that lines up with this movie.”
“Timur Bekmambetov has the biggest passion for the digital world and where it is today,” adds Amidon. “The concept in Mercy aligned with his previous films Missing, Searching, and Profile. And like those, this story that was set in 2029 was grounded in reality while going into different genres.”
Says producer Majd Nassif (Locked, Profile), “MERCY is not simply a Screenlife movie — it has elements of the Screenlife format with a hybrid approach. What excites Timur most is any new challenge; he’ll so often say, ‘Let’s try something that’s never been done before. Let’s try new technology.’ That has always been an ongoing conversation over all the years I’ve worked with him.”
With the AI Judge Maddox, MERCY adds a compelling new characterization to cinema’s gallery of morally ambiguous and potentially malevolent computer personas.
The inspiration behind Mercy lies in the intersection of technological innovation and moral anxiety
Bekmambetov has long been fascinated by the ways digital systems reshape human experience, and here he extends that vision into the realm of justice. In interviews, he has emphasized that the film explores “artificial intelligence, justice, and morality in a near-future world”.
The idea of an AI judge is not merely speculative fantasy; it reflects real-world debates about algorithmic decision-making in law enforcement, sentencing, and surveillance. As societies increasingly rely on predictive policing, facial recognition, and automated systems, the question arises: can machines truly embody justice, or do they strip it of empathy and mercy?
Marco van Belle’s script dramatizes this dilemma by placing Raven in a cruel irony—he must defend himself before the very system he once advocated, a system designed to eliminate human bias but incapable of understanding human grief, doubt, and fallibility. The ticking clock intensifies this tension, transforming the trial into a thriller while underscoring the existential stakes of delegating moral authority to machines.
The film’s significance is manifold
On one level, it represents a bold fusion of genres: courtroom drama, cyber-thriller, and speculative science fiction. By compressing the trial into ninety minutes, Mercy achieves a real-time urgency reminiscent of High Noon or Phone Booth, while embedding it in a futuristic context that recalls Minority Report and Ex Machina. This hybridization is emblematic of Bekmambetov’s style, which often pushes genre boundaries to reflect contemporary anxieties.
On another level, the film resonates culturally as a parable about the dangers of technological determinism. In a world increasingly governed by algorithms, Mercy dramatizes the loss of human compassion in systems designed for efficiency. The very title—Mercy—becomes ironic, as the AI judge embodies logic without empathy, a justice stripped of its human core. Raven’s struggle is not only to prove his innocence but to reclaim the possibility of mercy in a system that denies it.
The casting further amplifies the film’s significance
Chris Pratt, often associated with blockbuster franchises like Guardians of the Galaxy and Jurassic World, takes on a more serious, high-stakes role as Detective Raven, embodying both vulnerability and resilience. Rebecca Ferguson, acclaimed for her performances in Dune and Mission: Impossible, plays Judge Maddox, the AI whose cold rationality contrasts with Raven’s emotional desperation. Their dynamic encapsulates the film’s central tension: human fallibility versus machine logic. Supporting performances by Annabelle Wallis, Kali Reis, Chris Sullivan, Kenneth Choi, and Kylie Rogers enrich the narrative, grounding the futuristic premise in relatable human relationships—family, loyalty, betrayal.
From a production standpoint, Mercy also reflects the evolving landscape of cinema
Produced by Atlas Entertainment and Bazelevs Company, and distributed by Amazon MGM Studios, it exemplifies the convergence of traditional filmmaking with streaming-era distribution. Scheduled for release in IMAX and 3D on January 23, 2026, the film positions itself as both a spectacle and a philosophical provocation, aiming to capture audiences in theatres while sparking debates about technology and justice. Bekmambetov’s visual style, known for kinetic energy and digital experimentation, promises to render the courtroom not as a static space but as a dynamic arena where human and machine confront one another in visceral ways.
Thematically, Mercy resonates with mythic and psychological motifs
Raven’s ordeal mirrors the archetypal hero’s trial, a descent into confrontation with forces larger than himself. The AI judge functions as a modern oracle, dispensing verdicts without compassion, embodying the cold inevitability of fate. The ninety-minute countdown evokes the ritual of reckoning, a compressed journey from accusation to potential redemption. In this sense, the film operates not only as a thriller but as a contemporary myth, dramatizing humanity’s confrontation with its own creations. The trial becomes a ritual of meaning, a symbolic confrontation between human vulnerability and technological determinism.
In conclusion, Mercy (2026), directed by Timur Bekmambetov and written by Marco van Belle, is a film of both narrative urgency and philosophical depth. Inspired by contemporary debates about artificial intelligence and justice, it dramatises a near-future trial where a detective must prove his innocence before an AI judge.
Its significance lies in its fusion of genres, its cultural resonance, and its thematic exploration of mercy, morality, and human fallibility. By situating audiences in a world where justice is automated and empathy is absent, Mercy compels us to confront the limits of technology and the enduring need for human compassion.
Whether embraced as a gripping thriller or critiqued as a cautionary tale, it stands as a cinematic reflection of our time, a story that asks not only whether machines can judge us, but whether we can survive in a world where mercy itself is mechanised.
Marco van Belle (Writer)
Marco van Belle began his career as a journalist at the BBC, where he picked up awards for his work in television news. After more than a decade in front of the camera, he moved behind it to direct several successful short films, before turning his focus to writing screenplays – a move that immediately saw him voted onto the Tracking Board’s annual ‘Young and Hungry’ list of emerging writers in Hollywood. Ever since then, he has enjoyed a busy career as a screenwriter and director, working with studios and producers on both sides of the Atlantic. He now writes from his native Ireland while wrangling a hyperactive Jack Russell Terrier.
Timur Bekmambetov (Director/Producer)
Timur Bekmambetov is an acclaimed Hollywood filmmaker and producer, known for creating technologically innovative and visually arresting genre films.
His directorial debut in Hollywood was Marc Millar’s comic book adaptation WANTED (2008) which starred Angelina Jolie and James McAvoy. The action film grossed $341 million, earned two Oscar nominations. Bekmambetov’s new film as a director is sci-fi thriller MERCY for Amazon MGM Studios, starring Chris Pratt and Rebecca Ferguson, which he also produced alongside Oscar-winning producer Charles Roven (OPPENHEIMER).
Bekmambetov is the pioneer of screenlife films in which the action is set from the point of view of smartphone and computer screens as characters utilize their devices that drive the narrative forward. His debut screenlife production – a teen horror pic UNFRIENDED (2015) went on to gross more than $65 million against a budget of $1 million. His next screenlife production, SEARCHING (2018) starring John Cho, became a sensation at the Sundance Film Festival, grossing over $75 million. This film has also spawned sequel MISSING (2023) starring Emmy-winning Storm Reid that grossed $48.8 million and topped Netflix US movie chart. His latest screenlife production – the digital heist film LIFEHACK (2025) – premiered this March at SXSW and received a sensational 100% rating on Rotten Tomatoes.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on MET Opera Live In Cinemas 2026
The Met: Live in HD, the Metropolitan Opera’s award-winning 2025 -2026 series of live high-definition cinema simulcasts exclusively at select Ster-Kinekor and Cinema Nouveau cinemas will be announced soon.
The Metropolitan Opera’s 2026 season promises a dynamic interplay between tradition and transformation, offering a preview that feels both grand and intimate.
Upcoming screenings at the V & A Waterfront
TWENTY YEARS OF THE MET IN CINEMAS: AN ANNIVERSARY CELEBRATION, featuring highlights from unforgettable onscreen performances, for exhibitions. 19 SEPTEMBER.
COSÌ FAN TUTTE (Mozart) 3 OCTOBER
MACBETH (Verdi) 17 OCTOBER
SAMSON ET DALILA (Saint-Saëns) 5 DECEMBER
Don’t miss these world-class opera productions filmed and transmitted from the Met stage to the big screen at Cinema Nouveau and select Ster-Kinekor cinemas: Bedford and Rosebank Nouveau in Johannesburg; and V&A Waterfront (livestream) in Cape Town.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Pillion: Riding the Edge of Desire
Pillion is a bold and provocative drama that reimagines intimacy through the lens of queer desire, vulnerability, and consensual roleplay.
Inspired by writer-director Harry Lighton’s commitment to exploring subcultures with empathy, the film challenges cinematic conventions and expands the boundaries of representation, exploring intimacy, vulnerability, and power dynamics through the unlikely relationship between a timid man and a charismatic biker.
It’s one of the year’s most daring and resonant films, a work that insists on the beauty of surrender and the courage of self-discovery.
Its significance lies in how it challenges cinematic conventions by centering queer desire and consensual roleplay as a site of both erotic liberation and emotional discovery. Currently, the film is not widely available on subscription streaming services, but it premiered in cinemas on November 28, 2025, distributed by Picturehouse Entertainment, and can be tracked for future availability on platforms like Plex and The Streamable.
At its heart, Pillion tells the story of Colin, played by Harry Melling, a directionless and introverted man whose life is transformed when he encounters Ray, an enigmatic biker portrayed by Alexander Skarsgård. What begins as a chance meeting evolves into a relationship defined by submission and dominance, as Colin becomes Ray’s “pillion”—the passenger riding behind him, both literally and metaphorically.
This premise is significant because it reframes the traditional romance narrative, shifting focus from heteronormative tropes to a queer dynamic that foregrounds vulnerability, trust, and the negotiation of power. In doing so, the film situates itself within a lineage of cinema that seeks to expand the boundaries of representation, offering audiences a story that is both deeply personal and universally resonant.
The inspiration for Pillion lies in director Harry Lighton’s interest in exploring subcultures and the ways in which intimacy can be expressed outside mainstream norms
Critics have noted that the film draws from traditions of queer cinema, while also engaging with broader themes of identity and self-discovery. Lighton’s approach is neither exploitative nor sensationalist; instead, he treats the subject matter with tenderness and humor, emphasizing the humanity of his characters.
Reviews highlight how the film revels in the “real delights of consensual sexual roleplay” without judgment, presenting kink not as spectacle but as a lens through which to examine emotional connection. This inspiration reflects a broader cultural moment in which filmmakers are increasingly willing to explore marginalized experiences with nuance and authenticity.
The film’s significance also lies in its performances.
Harry Melling, known for his supporting roles in projects like The Queen’s Gambit, delivers one of his most compelling performances as Colin, embodying both fragility and quiet strength. Alexander Skarsgård, meanwhile, brings charisma and intensity to Ray, balancing dominance with flickers of vulnerability. Their chemistry anchors the film, making its exploration of unconventional relationships feel both believable and moving. Supporting performances by Lesley Sharp, Douglas Hodge, and Georgina Hellier enrich the narrative, adding layers of complexity to the world Colin inhabits. Together, the cast elevates Pillion beyond its provocative premise, transforming it into a meditation on love, trust, and the courage to embrace one’s desires.
Writer-director Harry Lighton
From a thematic perspective, Pillion resonates because it challenges audiences to reconsider assumptions about intimacy and control.
The relationship between Colin and Ray is not portrayed as exploitative but as consensual, negotiated, and transformative. This distinction is crucial: by centering consent, the film reframes dominance and submission as acts of trust rather than coercion. In doing so, it opens space for broader conversations about how relationships—queer or otherwise—navigate power, vulnerability, and desire. For your Movie Club, this makes Pillion a particularly significant choice, as it invites viewers to engage with questions of identity, freedom, and the ways in which love can emerge from unexpected places.
Visually, the film is striking. Lighton employs a mix of raw realism and stylized imagery to capture both the physicality of motorcycle rides and the intimacy of private encounters. The cinematography emphasizes contrasts—speed and stillness, danger and tenderness—mirroring the emotional journey of its characters. This aesthetic choice underscores the film’s central metaphor: the act of riding pillion, surrendering control while trusting another, becomes a symbol of Colin’s transformation. The film’s visual language thus reinforces its thematic concerns, making it not only a narrative but also a sensory exploration of intimacy.
The cultural significance of Pillion extends beyond its narrative.
In a cinematic landscape often dominated by conventional romances, the film stands out for its willingness to depict queer relationships in all their complexity. It neither sanitizes nor sensationalizes; instead, it presents kink and submission as valid expressions of love and identity. This representation matters, particularly for audiences who rarely see their experiences reflected on screen. By normalizing these dynamics, Pillion contributes to a broader cultural shift toward inclusivity and authenticity in storytelling.
As for where to watch, Pillion premiered in UK cinemas on November 28, 2025, distributed by Picturehouse Entertainment. At present, it is not available on major subscription platforms such as Netflix, Prime Video, Hulu, or Disney+, though it can be tracked through services like Plex and The Streamable for updates. Given its critical acclaim and cultural relevance, it is likely to appear on streaming platforms or video-on-demand services in the near future. For now, audiences interested in experiencing the film may need to seek out theatrical screenings or festival showings, where its communal impact can be most strongly felt.
Harry Lighton is an English film director and screenwriter, best known for his feature debut Pillion (2025). Born on October 20, 1992, in Portsmouth, Hampshire, he studied English Literature at the University of Oxford before turning to filmmaking. Lighton began his career making short films while at Oxford, quickly gaining recognition with Wren Boys (2017), which earned nominations at both the BAFTAs and British Independent Film Awards. His subsequent shorts, including Leash (2018) and Pompeii (2019), further established his reputation for tackling bold, socially resonant themes. In 2025, his first feature film Pillion premiered in the Un Certain Regard section at the Cannes Film Festival, where he won the award for Best Screenplay, cementing Lighton’s reputation as a daring and empathetic storyteller. Lighton is openly gay and lives in London. His work often engages with themes of identity, vulnerability, and subculture, blending realism with poetic intensity. Beyond Pillion, he has collaborated with directors such as Oliver Hermanus and is developing further projects that continue to expand the boundaries of representation in contemporary cinema.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Charlie The Wonderdog – A playful animated romp
Charlie the Wonderdog is directed by Shea Wageman and written by Steve Ball, Raul Inglis, and Shea Wageman. Inspired by the timeless bond between children and their pets, as well as the enduring popularity of superhero narratives, the film reimagines the family adventure genre by blending heartfelt themes of friendship and courage with the spectacle of science fiction. Its significance lies in how it positions itself as both a playful animated romp and a meditation on loyalty, resilience, and the imagination of childhood.
Directed by Shea Wageman and co-written by Steve Ball, Raul Inglis, and Wageman himself, the film stars Owen Wilson as the voice of Charlie, a lovable dog who unexpectedly becomes a superhero after being abducted by aliens. The story follows Danny, a timid young boy who imagines fantastical adventures with his dog. When Charlie is taken by extraterrestrials and gifted extraordinary powers, he returns as “Charlie the Wonderdog,” a canine superhero beloved by the world—except for Puddy, the evil cat next door. Together, Danny and Charlie must rise to the challenge of saving humanity from Puddy’s diabolical schemes, proving that true heroism lies not in strength alone but in courage, kindness, and loyalty.
A shy boy, Danny, imagines a rich world in which he and his cherished dog, Charlie, star in their own superhero adventures. When Charlie is mysteriously abducted by aliens, he is gifted true superpowers and emerges as Charlie the Wonderdog, the greatest superhero the world has ever seen! While Danny cheers on Charlie’s heroic escapades, he deeply misses his best friend. Once inseparable, Danny watches from afar as Wonderdog’s fame explodes, and Charlie is mobbed by the media, fans, and even the President, who gloms onto him for personal gain. Not everyone is a Wonderdog fan, however. Charlie’s meteoric rise grates on the nerves of the devilish cat next door, Puddy, who possesses his own unimaginable superpowers. Puddy and his ragtag feline gang launch a scheme to dethrone Wonderdog, subjugate humans, and place cats at the top of the food chain. At the paws of Puddy’s gang, Charlie is disgraced and sentenced to home arrest. He falls into hopeless depression, comfort-eating his way to obesity. With Charlie’s waistline and the fate of humanity hanging in the balance, Danny and Wonderdog must dig deep to thwart Puddy’s diabolical plans!
The inspiration behind Charlie the Wonderdog is rooted in the universal appeal of stories about pets as companions and protectors
The filmmakers drew on the tradition of family films where animals embody both innocence and heroism, from Lassie to Bolt. By giving Charlie superpowers through an alien abduction, the film taps into the cultural fascination with science fiction while maintaining the warmth of a family narrative. The juxtaposition of ordinary domestic life with cosmic adventure reflects the imaginative leaps children often make, turning everyday relationships into epic tales.
The film’s significance lies in several dimensions
First, it represents a continuation of the trend in family animation toward hybrid genres, combining superhero tropes with animal-centered storytelling. In an era dominated by Marvel and DC blockbusters, Charlie the Wonderdog offers a child-friendly alternative that introduces younger audiences to the idea of heroism without the darker undertones of adult-oriented franchises.
Second, the film underscores the enduring cultural role of pets as symbols of loyalty and unconditional love. By casting Charlie as both a companion and a savior, the narrative reinforces the emotional bond between humans and animals, a theme that resonates across generations.
Third, the film’s release strategy—distributed by Viva Kids in theaters—signals the ongoing importance of theatrical experiences for family audiences, even in a streaming-saturated market.
From a thematic perspective, Charlie the Wonderdog explores the tension between vulnerability and empowerment
Danny, the boy at the centre of the story, begins as timid and uncertain, relying on his dog for comfort and courage. Charlie’s transformation into a superhero mirrors Danny’s own journey toward self-confidence, illustrating how imagination and companionship can empower children to face challenges.
The villain, Puddy the cat, embodies jealousy and rivalry, serving as a foil to Charlie’s loyalty and kindness. This dynamic reflects broader themes of community and conflict, suggesting that true strength lies not in domination but in cooperation and empathy.
The film’s humour—rooted in animal antics and playful banter—ensures accessibility, while its action sequences provide excitement without sacrificing warmth.
The significance of Charlie the Wonderdog also extends to its cultural positioning
In a landscape where family films often compete with darker, more complex narratives, Charlie offers a return to innocence and joy. Its emphasis on kindness and loyalty resonates with contemporary concerns about empathy and community, providing a counterpoint to narratives of division and conflict. By situating its story within the imaginative world of a child, the film underscores the importance of play and creativity in shaping resilience. For parents, the film offers nostalgia, recalling earlier eras of animal-centered family films, while for children, it provides a fresh, exciting adventure that affirms their capacity for courage and imagination.
Charlie the Wonderdog is a film that combines the spectacle of superhero storytelling with the warmth of family adventure. By blending humour, action, and heart, Charlie the Wonderdog situates itself within the tradition of family animation while offering a timely reflection on the heroism that resides in everyday relationships.
Director/ Writer/ Producer – Shea Wageman
Born in British Columbia, Canada, Shea began pursuing his dream of directing feature-length films at a young age, creating many epic movies as a kid in his backyard with an 8mm video camera, friends, and costumes from the local thrift shop. Further crafting his skills at Vancouver Film School at the ripe age of 18, Shea set on a path towards his 1st feature-length film ‘Don’t Look Back’, which was completed in 2010, starring Kelly McGillis (Top Gun), and featuring music by Canadian Superstar Bryan Adams. After founding ICON Creative Studio Inc. in 2013, in Vancouver, B.C. and acting as a Producer / Director on over 40 titles, including Disney’s Young Jedi Adventures, Pixar’s Monsters at Work, Disney Junior’s Ariel, and Sony’s Motel Transylvania, he earned himself an Emmy nomination in 2022. Wishing to create a strong Canadian created production, which will market to worldwide audiences, Wageman now focuses Canada’s largest computer animation studio on the task of creating world-class animated feature films, to entertain and inspire families around the globe.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Dead Man’s Wire – A raw and gripping story of an ordinary man pushed to the edge
With Dead Man’s Wire, Gus Van Sant transforms an infamous true-crime tale of the 70s into both a wildly entertaining spectacle and a razor-sharp look at what happens when spectacle is all you’ve got.
The film immerses the audience in the black-comic frenzy of an unhinged hostage taking. But just beneath the thriller’s frantic tension lies a darkly funny, deeply human excavation of American myth-making—as an aggrieved Everyman, an indifferent system, a media expanding its power, and a rising current of outrage at life being stacked against the little guy converge into an eerily familiar circus onto which everyone projects their own meanings.
The film marks Van Sant’s first feature in seven years
But as he has done in such touchstone movies as Drugstore Cowboy, To Die For, Good Will Hunting, Milk, and Elephant, he taps into themes that are immediately resonant in American culture. Mirroring a standoff that was entirely broadcast live, Van Sant employs a style as direct and reverberating as a gut punch, purposely designing a run-and-gun production that took just 19 days to shoot, an event that unfolded over an incredible 63 hours. Says Van Sant with his distinctive economy of words, “I am always drawn to what makes people do what they do, and here I was interested in Tony Kiritsis’s misguided sense of heroism.”
Sparking that approach was first-time screenwriter Austin Kolodney’s lean yet wide-ranging screenplay
Steeped in a comedy-writing background, but with the soul of a cinephile, Kolodney had done something unexpected: disarmed the story’s pure sensationalism by leaning into all that raged just below its surface, into a tangle of roiling human emotions, unresolved furies, simmering class divisions, and blurred lines between grabbing attention and getting true justice. He keyed into the inky-black absurdity of a man whose deluded quest to be heard collided head-on with a new age of infotainment.
Unusually, the two-time Oscar-nominated Van Sant developed the script with Kolodney while the struggling young writer worked as a janitor squeegeeing gorilla and orangutan enclosures at the LA Zoo. Kolodney’s free-wheeling writing, and its match with Van Sant’s penchant for outsiders and outlaws, soon lured an inspired cast including Bill Skarsgård, Dacre Montgomery, Colman Domingo, rising star Myha’la, and legendary Al Pacino. Always meticulous with atmosphere, Van Sant crafted the film’s grit and urgency with a team led by cinematographer Arnaud Potier, production designer Stefan Dechant, costume designer Peggy Schnitzer, editor Saar Klein, and composer Danny Elfman.
From the opening moments, an unblinking, handheld camera latches onto the manic energy of Skarsgård’s Tony—and stays with him through every second of ratcheting pressure, epic rants, and sardonic twists as he rides the line between righteous defiance and abject madness. If the film is rigorously period, it also taps into an of-the-moment mood of anxiety in the face of goliath power structures. Both the immediacy and the resonance, says Van Sant, were a result of “bringing these three days in 1977 to life minute-by-minute, item-by-item, line-by-line with our cast and crew.”
Sums up Domingo, “Dead Man’s Wire marks the thrilling return of Gus Van Sant to auteur filmmaking. He has created a world that is exciting to experience but will undoubtedly spur multiple perspectives and meaningful conversations.”
Bill Skarsgård and director Gus Van Sant during the filming of Dead Man’s Wire. Photo Credit Stefania Rosini/Row K Entertainment
Director’s Statement
I’ve always been drawn to understanding what drives people—what compels someone to cross a line, to act out of desperation, conviction, or fear. Dead Man’s Wire is no exception.
The film is based on the true story of Tony Kiritsis, a man who, in 1977, felt deceived and cornered by the system he trusted most. Believing his mortgage company had exploited him at his most vulnerable, he took drastic and very public action to reclaim a sense of power and justice. His story is both deeply human and profoundly unsettling—an act of rage that became a cry to be heard.
In telling Tony’s story, I wanted to resist the impulse to lead the audience toward a single interpretation or moral conclusion. Instead, I chose to observe—to let the situation unfold as it did in real life, without judgment or commentary. My hope was to create space for viewers to experience their own emotional responses, whether empathy, discomfort, confusion, or even laughter.
That laughter, too, is deliberate. Even in moments of chaos or despair, absurdity has a way of creeping in. Allowing humor to exist within unsettling circumstances felt essential—it reflects how people really experience crisis, and it reminds us that tragedy and comedy often occupy the same fragile space.
We began filming in November 2024, and as the world shifted around us, we found ourselves confronting echoes of Tony’s experience in today’s headlines—stories of economic strain, mistrust, and the fraying social contract. These parallels made the project feel eerily timely, and at times, uncomfortably close.
My hope is that the film doesn’t merely revisit a moment in history, but opens a conversation about how frustration, alienation, and loss of control can twist into something volatile. While the subject matter may be disturbing, it reflects the uncertainty, anger, and—sometimes—the strange, human humor that continues to shape our collective experience.
I am profoundly grateful to the real people whose lives informed this story, and to the extraordinary cast and collaborators who brought it to life with honesty and empathy.
Director Gus Van Sant was born in Louisville, Kentucky. His many features include the Festival Official Selections Drugstore Cowboy (89), My Own Private Idaho (91), Even Cowgirls Get the Blues (93), To Die For (95), Gerry (02), Elephant (03), Paranoid Park (07), and Restless (11) as well as Good Will Hunting (97), which was nominated for Best Picture and Best Director at the Academy Awards. Dead Man’s Wire (25) is his latest feature.
The Kidnapping
On February 8, 1977, would-be Indianapolis businessman Tony Kiritsis walked into the offices of Meridian Mortgage prepared to seek his own diabolical means of justice. Believing he had been screwed over on his loans, Tony blamed company owner M.L. Hall for severing his hoped-for path to the American Dream. His appointment that day with Hall’s son Richard was merely a feint for a bizarrely-conceived kidnapping scheme. Once they met, Tony forced Richard into a home-made, “fail-deadly” device later dubbed a dead man’s wire—a noose wrapped around Richard’s neck connected to Tony, then to a sawed-off shotgun designed to instantly go off should sharpshooters try to intervene.
From that moment on, there was no turning back, as Tony’s very bad idea kept building on itself, generating a media frenzy that, just as Tony had hope for, soon “went national.” With the city unwilling to risk disaster, and the public at once repelled and mesmerized by images of Richard in his pinstriped shirt-sleeves reckoning with a rifle bound to his neck, Tony was able to bring Richard to his apartment without interference. There the two holed-up together for three nerve-wracking days of extreme psychological intensity as Tony demanded $5 million, immunity from prosecution, and, most importantly, a public apology from Meridian for making it so hard for people like himself to get ahead.
Madcap as it was, the incident seemed to presage all at once the modern media free-for-all, the growing power differential between haves and have-nots, and an era of lone wolf crusaders set off by hazy fury at uncaring systems. Today, the standoff is still taught in media ethics courses as a case study on the dangers of journalists escalating incendiary events.
In the end, while the kidnapping spurred fear, turmoil, and psychic damage, not a single shot was fired. That relatively upbeat outcome is what got Kolodney intrigued. “I wouldn’t have written this if it had come out any other way,” he explains. “It’s a testament to the idea that cooler heads can sometimes prevail. But also, I always thought the story was not so much about Tony’s terrible plan as about how everyone around him reacted to it. And because the real incident ended with the amazing punchline of Tony being found not guilty that really seemed to open it up into dark comedy territory.”
For Kolodney, the script would soon prove a galvanic life-changer. He was in fairly dire economic straits before and during its development—to the point he sought out an LA job fair where he landed the gig sweeping up at the zoo.
He saw none of that coming when he first bumped into the little-known reality of Kiritsis’ story whilst scrolling YouTube during the long nights of the 2020 lockdowns. Footage of Tony’s brazen scheme struck a nerve. Then it led straight down a rabbit hole. “Amid the strange confinement of that year and the questions of how I was going to pay rent, suddenly I see this clip of Tony marching down the street, slipping on the ice and nearly setting off his device, and the sheer pandemonium completely hooked me,” Kolodney recalls.
“That led me to watching the press conference where Tony is sipping water like a baby bird, cracking bad jokes, and talking about how the mortgage company stacked the deck against him,” Kolodney continues. “It was all terrifically cinematic, but it also hit home in a personal way. I was in elementary school when the 2008 financial crisis hit, and I think since then, the American Dream has felt distant for many in my generation. I didn’t want to lionize Tony or downplay the terror he caused, but it seemed notable that the itch Tony felt in 1977 still was striking a chord in 2020.”
Dead Man’s Wire. Photo Credit Stefania Rosini/Row K Entertainment
As Kolodney plunged into research, he became aware many of those involved in the incident had already passed, including Kiritsis himself and both M.L. and Richard Hall. He also discovered the 2018 documentary Dead Man’s Line made by Alan Berry and Mark Enochs, whom he soon contacted. Though Kolodney’s inspiration came well before that, he credits Berry and Enochs with sending him a 16gb drive containing a veritable treasure trove of news clippings and original police reports.
Authenticity mattered, but Kolodney wasn’t interested in a mere procedural. His background writing for Funny Or Die and Comedy Central encouraged him to filter Tony’s cockamamie plot through an absurdist lens, fully entering the not-quite-right mind of a guy ready to go off the deep end just for the chance to say his piece—and the media eco-system that turned him into an underdog folk hero for doing so.
“I’m a goddamn national hero and don’t you forget it,” Tony informs the news crews chasing him. Yet his aims and his methods are a comical mismatch and Kolodney leaned into that humor. Even as he gains a fan club, the joke is ultimately on Tony because, while lives and careers might be forever altered by his crime, no real change can come of it. Kolodney suggests the public rooting for Tony may be as quixotic as he is and reflects affinities embedded in our national character.
“One thing I think this story does right now is open up a dialogue about who we are and who we want to be,” says Kolodney. “I loved Gus’s approach of including the clip of John Wayne and the Western iconography, because it’s a reminder that we are a nation that was founded on myths of loud, brash, boisterous outlaws.” (Remarkably, broadcasters really did cut from Wayne’s speech accepting the award for Favorite Motion Picture Actor at the 1977 People’s Choice Awards straight to live coverage of Kiritsis, creating a true-life interplay of outlaw entertainment with news of the real thing).
The more he learned about the 63 hours of the standoff, the more Kolodney saw the jumpy, tenuous personal dynamics between Tony and Richard as the beating emotional heart of the story. The claustrophobia and psychic terror of being wired to one another in Tony’s cramped apartment was palpable as he wrote through the isolation and hush of the pandemic.
Kolodney knew first-hand there would be natural class aversions between the two men. But he was also looking for flashes of unanticipated connection. “For me the soul of the movie was always what happens in the room between these two guys, which was largely drawn from my imagination,” says the writer. “I grew up with a single mom who worked in a grocery store, and to be honest, when I went to community college, I had a chip on my shoulder about people who come from wealth. So, I was attuned to how Tony might see Richard. But I also wanted to create empathy for who Richard is beyond his social status, and for this incredible ordeal Tony put him through.”
Though Tony and Richard might seem to share little but the strand of wire twitching between them, a parallel loneliness and doubts about mattering seem to eat at both. “I knew Tony had an abusive, violent father so I felt seeing Richard go through trauma with his own dad is something Tony could understand emotionally,” the writer says. “There is something so devastating about M.L. Hall refusing to apologize to Tony even with his son’s life on the line.”
Kolodney is the kind of devoted movie-lover who rarely lets a week go by without time spent in a theater. So naturally, he had in the back of his head Frank Pierson’s unflinchingly humane script for Sidney Lumet’s classic Dog Day Afternoon. That screenplay, too, was based on an actual 1970s crime—John Wojtowicz’s Brooklyn bank-heist turned explosive hostage situation. “I did want to pay tribute to Pierson and to the spirit of Dog Day Afternoon, but this is very much its own story,” he says.
Various iterations of the movie almost got off the ground, and for a time, after trekking 14 miles on foot from his Silver Lake apartment to Brentwood to meet with auteur Werner Herzog, he worked on a very different version. But when Van Sant came aboard, they went back to the unfiltered frantic energy of Kolodney’s initial draft. Kolodney was exhilarated by Van Sant’s vision. “This is a story that on the screen needed to be relentlessly tense but also very human yet also darkly funny—and Gus is great at balancing on that kind of tightrope. Tone-wise, I felt he knocked it out of the park, and it hearkens back to the brilliance of films like To Die For,” he comments.
While development proceeded, the zoo job kept Kolodney not just afloat but sanguine in the face of big changes ahead. “I’d see the sun rise with the animals and it was a monk-like spiritual existence,” he muses. “But the wild part was that on a Monday, I had my had last day of work at the zoo and by Wednesday, I was in Louisville on the set of the movie I wrote.”
Dacre Montgomery and Gus Van Sant during filming of Dead Man’s Wire. Photo Credit Stefania Rosini/Row K Entertainment
The Outsider Tales of Gus Van Sant
A cinematic chameleon, Gus Van Sant has explored nearly every mode of big-screen storytelling, from innovative microbudget indies to ambitious Hollywood blockbusters, from provocative formal experiments to heartfelt Oscar winners. But a singular, potent vein has shot through much of his work: a fascination with American outsiders and all that is revealed when observing life from the edges.
His first major feature Mala Noche announced the fully-formed arrival of a powerfully direct, if also lyrical, voice. Shot in black-and-white 16mm on the streets of Portland, Oregon, the film laid bare a hidden, vibrant world of transients, migrants, and convenience store workers living on the margins. With the two films that followed in his “Portland Trilogy” Van Sant would earn a reputation as a sharp poet of American street life. Drugstore Cowboy was a first of its kind, candidly and affectingly exposing the inner lives of young addicts in the Pacific Northwest. Then came My Own Private Idaho, which reimagined Shakespeare’s Henry IV as a love story between a princely mayor’s son and a narcoleptic hustler, and featured River Phoenix in one of his most magnetic performances.
As acclaim grew, Van Sant branched in new directions, adapting Tom Robbins’ counterculture novel Even Cowgirls Get the Blues. Then came To Die For, which took him into satire for the first time with unforgettable results, as the furiously comic takedown of fame showcased Nicole Kidman in a bravura performance as a small-town weatherwoman obsessed with being on TV. This was followed by the runaway box-office hit Good Will Hunting, the rousing tale of a working-class math genius, which garnered 7 Academy Award nominations including Best Picture, the coming-of-age story Finding Forrester, and an abstracted remake of Hitchcock’s tale of outsider horror, Psycho.
His work in the early 2000s included a haunting foray into the off-limits subject matter of high school shootings in Elephant, which garnered the Cannes Film Festival’s Palme D’Or, and a journey into the incendiary political history of Milk, which captured the watershed rise and tragic assassination of America’s first openly gay man elected to public office, drawing 8 Oscar nominations. Following such films as Promised Land and Sea of Trees, in 2018 Van Sant directed Don’t Worry He Won’t Get Far On Foot, an unsentimental recounting of the late quadriplegic cartoonist John Callahan’s recovery from alcoholism. For the last few years, however, he has explored television with the critically lauded Capote Verus The Swans about Truman Capote’s complicated circle of female socialite friends.
Born in Louisville where Dead Man’s Wire was shot, Van Sant’s Midwestern affinity for the Everyman, especially the earnest, alienated Everyman, has perhaps never seen a more explosive rendering than in the story of Tony Kiritsis. The film came to him by happenstance, when producer Cassian Elwes presented him with a creative challenge. “Cassian said he had a project he thought I’d be good for, but we’d have to start shooting it in 2 months. I was in the mood to shoot a feature film, and the idea of trying to do it so quickly was exciting to me on its own,” says Van Sant.
He continues, “Only after that, did I read Austin’s script. He had written into it clickable links to original audio and visual content from the real incident in 1977. The first one I clicked on was Tony calling the police from the Meridian office as he’s kidnapping Richard. Suddenly, I was looking at this real guy who was all at once so frantic yet so angry and yet constantly cracking silly jokes on live television. I thought this is an incredible character and the tone was unlike anything I’d seen before.”
That sense of an irrepressible discontent breaking out into the culture is what Van Sant set out to capture, using the speed of the production to enhance the pressurized atmosphere of the film. With little time to prepare, Van Sant immediately leapt into what he knew would be one of the most essential elements: matching the characters to actors willing to dive with abandon into wholesale intensity.
If Dead Man’s Wire operates as a total immersion into mayhem, it does so through a tightly controlled structure and scrupulous layering of textures.
Van Sant took full advantage of having just 19 days to forge the stripped-down focus and fleet-footed pace of a shoot that spurred maximal creativity for cast and crew in minimal time. He did so in Louisville, Kentucky, not only Van Sant’s birthplace but notably that of Hunter S. Thompson, whose groundbreaking Gonzo Journalism unleashed a torrent of manic first-person subjectivity that remade the media in the 60s and 70s. It is also a town that has visibly retained its mid-Century character.
Van Sant had a vision going in of saturated realism—somewhat influenced by sources such as Alan Pakula’s 1971 paranoid crime thriller Klute and the stereotype-busting colors of William Eggleston’s 1970s photography, which revealed an everyday small-town America glimmering with aquamarine busses, sunny yellow gas stations, and cherry red diners. But equally, Van Sant was aiming at how news actually looked in 1977, then still often shot on 16mm film or with analog video cameras that were giving broadcast journalists greater powers to report live from previously inaccessible scenes.
The director further punctuated the action with sudden freeze-frames and recreated still photos that suggest folklore-in-the-making and a past that still exerts itself upon the present. “Throughout my filmmaking career, I’ve often mixed lots of different film resources, from flashbacks and home movies to news footage, to broaden reality,” Van Sant comments.
At the end of the Second World War, after the defeat of the Axis powers and Adolf Hitler’s suicide, the Allies were faced with answering a difficult question: what to do about the surviving members of the Nazi regime that had been captured in the liberation of Europe.
Led by United States Supreme Court Associate Justice Robert H. Jackson, the Allies set to work establishing a framework for a trial. And into this charged atmosphere stepped Lt. Col. Douglas Kelley, a quietly resolute U.S. Army psychiatrist tasked with a mission that was as novel as it was urgent. Kelley’s assignment was to probe the minds of the captured Nazi hierarchy – men whose decisions had devastated continents and annihilated millions.
“In the prisoners’ dock sit twenty-odd broken men. Reproached by the humiliation of those they have led almost as bitterly as by the desolation of those they have attacked, their personal capacity for evil is forever past. It is hard now to perceive in these miserable men as captives the power by which as Nazi leaders they once dominated much of the world and terrified most of it. Merely as individuals, their fate is of little consequence to the world. What makes this inquest significant is that those prisoners represent sinister influence that will lurk in the world long after their bodies have returned to dust. They are living symbols of racial hatreds, of terrorism and violence, and of the arrogance and cruelty of power.”
For writer and director James Vanderbilt, who learned about Kelley’s work in the pages of an article and a book proposal from author Jack El-Hai that would become the bestselling The Nazi And The Psychiatrist, the psychological and political machinations of Nuremberg became an undeniable fascination. Vanderbilt was captivated by the extraordinary intersection of history and human inquiry – a moment when the fate of the world’s most notorious war criminals depended not only on armies, or laws that had yet to be written, but on the fragile complexities of the mind.
What thrilled him as a filmmaker was the way El-Hai’s book peeled back the legal proceedings to reveal a gripping, intimate battle of wits between Kelley and the men he evaluated, most notably Göring. “Immediately, I thought, Oh, that’s a movie,” says Vanderbilt. “I’d never seen anything like it explored before, and I didn’t even know what the state of psychiatry was during World War II.”
Beyond his fascination with the psychological dimensions of Nuremberg, Vanderbilt was also propelled by a deep, personal sense of generational responsibility – a responsibility shaped by the ever-widening gap between the world of living memory and that of distant history. He reflected on the profound shift that has taken place as the direct witnesses of World War II fade from the collective stage, leaving their stories at risk of slipping into abstraction for new generations. The war, once a vivid reality for so many, now risks becoming little more than a chapter in a school textbook, its moral questions and human drama flattened by the passage of time.
“My grandparents fought in World War II, and I grew up hearing about it as a piece of living history,” he explains. Today, he finds himself grappling with a new challenge: “When I talk to my children about World War II now, it’s like talking to them about the Civil War. It feels so far removed for them, so it felt important to keep the stories of that time alive.”
Douglas Kelley ultimately reached a profoundly unsettling conclusion: the Nazi leaders, including Göring, were not clinical psychopaths or monsters in any medical sense. Rather, they were disturbingly ordinary men – shrewd, ambitious, and fully rational, yet capable of orchestrating unspeakable crimes under the right conditions.
This diagnosis challenged the world’s desperate need for simple answers or comfortable categories of good and evil. Kelley’s assertion that monstrous acts could emerge from ordinary individuals provoked fierce controversy among his contemporaries, many of whom recoiled from the idea that the line between good and evil was so fragile and human.
At Nuremberg, he was soon replaced by the psychologist Gustave Gilbert, who concluded that the Nazi leaders exhibited profound moral and emotional deficits – qualities he regarded as pathological and emblematic of an innate capacity for evil. As the world sought to come to terms with the legacy of Nuremberg, it was Gilbert’s damning psychological portraits that captured public attention and ultimately shaped the prevailing narrative. Gilbert’s perspective resonated with a public eager for clear moral boundaries, and his subsequent writings, particularly his detailed diaries, became touchstones for understanding the Nazi psyche.
Kelley, by contrast, saw his more nuanced conclusions pushed to the margins. As Gilbert’s views took hold and were widely publicized, Kelley’s own reputation and sense of mission seemed to erode. In a chilling echo of the very men he had studied, Kelley ultimately took his own life in 1958 by ingesting cyanide – the same lethal substance Hermann Göring had used within hours of his scheduled execution.
“Nobody escapes from war unaffected,” notes Vanderbilt. “You can’t ignore what happened to Douglas Kelley at the end of his life. It’s such a deliberate thing that it’s hard not to see some kind of symbolism in what happened to him.”
Intent on adapting El-Hai’s book, Vanderbilt soon determined that the narrative should center not on Kelley’s entire biography, but rather on this specific period of his life, and the bigger picture surrounding it. This approach allowed Vanderbilt to incorporate Robert Jackson’s efforts in organizing the trials and provide a more comprehensive view of this singular event in history.
“I made a decision very early on that the story I wanted to tell was the story of what happened to Kelley in Europe,” Vanderbilt explains. “Jack’s book covers his entire life in a beautifully written way, but Robert Jackson’s storyline is not in the book. As I continued my research, the story grew and grew. I knew I needed to keep the guardrails up on what we were going to portray in the film.”
Central to Vanderbilt’s task was a preoccupation with the enduring lessons the events at Nuremberg sought to impart – those that resonated, those that faded, and those now drifting toward oblivion. “Evil isn’t always going to put on a scary uniform,” Vanderbilt says. “It’s not always going to announce itself. It can be insidious. It can be – as Göring was – the nicest guy at the dinner party. That’s a much scarier thought than good guys versus bad guys.”
Through this lens, Vanderbilt set out to illuminate the subtle, chilling ways darkness can infiltrate the ordinary, entertaining audiences with a remarkable true story, while challenging them to confront the discomforting fragility of moral boundaries.
In the immediate aftermath of the Second World War, as the world grapples with the unveiled horrors of the Holocaust, U.S. Army psychiatrist Lt. Col. Douglas Kelley (Rami Malek) is assigned the extraordinary task of assessing the mental state of Hermann Göring (Russell Crowe), the notorious former Reichsmarschall and Hitler’s second in command, along with other high-ranking Nazi officials. As the Allies – led by the unyielding chief U.S. prosecutor, Supreme Court Justice Robert H. Jackson (Michael Shannon) alongside Sgt. Howie Triest (Leo Woodall), David Maxwell-Fyfe (Richard E. Grant), Gustave Gilbert (Colin Hanks), Col. John Amen (Mark O’Brien) and Burton C. Andrus (John Slattery) – navigate the monumental task of creating an unprecedented international tribunal to ensure the Nazi regime answers for its atrocities, Kelley gets to know his ‘patients’. But he soon finds himself locked in a psychological duel with Göring, whose charisma and cunning reveal a sobering truth: that ordinary men can commit extraordinary evil.
The Journey To Screen
“I often get asked what the hardest script I ever wrote was, and it’s usually the one I’m currently working on,” quips Vanderbilt. “But I will say Nuremberg was particularly challenging, because the story kept growing.”
The story of Douglas Kelley had first been brought to him by producer Bradley J. Fischer. While producing the Martin Scorsese film Shutter Island Fischer stumbled onto El-Hai’s book The Lobotomist, which he went on to option and set up as a series at HBO. So, when El-Hai finished writing his new work The Nazi And The Psychiatrist for Scientific American magazine, Fischer was one of the first producers with whom he shared it, along with his plans to expand it into a book.
“Jack has an extraordinary knack for finding these old tales that have been lost to the pockets of history,” says Fischer, who had particularly responded to the cat-and-mouse game played by Kelley and Goring. “There was this incredible sense of manipulation that occurred between them. Kelley was starstruck by this guy, and Göring latched onto that for his own benefit. There was great tension in the story between them, and a lot of fascinating, terrifying levels to unpack. To find that kind of drama enshrined within a relatively obscure chapter of the history of WWII – between the capture of what remained of the Nazi High Command and their trial by the Allies at Nuremberg – was a profoundly rare opportunity to me, as a film producer.”
Vanderbilt, known to his collaborators as Jamie, immediately saw the same potential. Sparked to the possibility of bringing this lost story to the screen, he plunged into years of rigorous research on Kelley and the trials, immersing himself in archives, court transcripts, memoirs, and the entwined lives of the people at the heart of Nuremberg.
As he worked to refine the screenplay, it became clear to him that the complexity of these events could not be captured by focusing solely on the psychological chess match between Kelley and Göring. Vanderbilt felt compelled to broaden the narrative’s scope and weave in other pivotal figures whose actions and perspectives shaped the course of history. Among them, chief prosecutor Robert Jackson, whose impassioned drive established the very framework of the trials, and his British counterpart David Maxwell-Fyfe; Col. Burton Andrus, the warden tasked with the daunting responsibility of guarding the Nazi defendants; and psychologist Gustave Gilbert, whose own interpretations of evil stood in sharp contrast to Kelley’s. Each of them became essential threads in the tapestry Vanderbilt sought to weave.
“Initially, I thought the film might be about two men in a cell, because just reading Jack’s book, there’s already so much depth in there,” Vanderbilt notes. “But as I read Douglas Kelley’s book, 22 Cells At Nuremberg, and looked at his observations of the men he studied, I started researching the trials themselves, and the scope just kept growing. When I read Robert Jackson’s story, and how he and Kelley intersected, I knew the movie had to include it.”
Vanderbilt was struck by the monumental efforts of Robert Jackson in laying the foundations of the International Military Tribunal, better known as the Nuremberg Trials. He felt it essential that the screenplay not only highlight Jackson’s legal prowess but also chronicle the tireless journey that took him from the corridors of Washington to diplomatic meetings in London and even the halls of the Vatican. By tracing Jackson’s travels and relentless negotiations, Vanderbilt sought to capture the extraordinary international coalition-building required to bring the architects of atrocity to justice – an odyssey as dramatic and consequential as anything that transpired inside the courtroom itself.
It was during his exhaustive research that Vanderbilt also stumbled upon the remarkable story of Sgt. Howie Triest – a young German Jewish émigré who, having fled the Nazis as a boy, returned to Europe in a U.S. Army uniform to serve as an interpreter at the Nuremberg Trials. Vanderbilt was captivated by the tragic arc of Triest’s family: Howie’s escape from Germany, the loss of loved ones to the Holocaust, and his improbable return to the very heart of postwar justice. The weight of Triest’s perspective proved irresistible to Vanderbilt, who recognized that weaving Howie’s singular vantage point into the script would deepen the film’s emotional resonance and illuminate the trials from a profoundly personal lens.
But as Vanderbilt wove together the disparate strands, he found himself confronted by the enormity of synthesizing so many vantage points into a coherent whole. Each narrative thread threatened to pull the film in a different direction, demanding that the structure stretch and contort beyond the boundaries of conventional screenwriting. It became clear that capturing the true magnitude and nuance of the Nuremberg story meant relinquishing the safety of tidy, three-act formulas. Instead, Vanderbilt embraced a messier, more organic approach, accepting that the truth of history, with all its interwoven complexities, could not – and should not – be forced to fit the established rules of cinematic storytelling.
“It’s sort of wonderful and terrifying not to have the traditional, three-act structure,” laughs Vanderbilt. “I suppose I’m attracted to movies that don’t hit every beat the way you’re supposed to, but it is nerve-wracking.”
Fortunately, Vanderbilt is no stranger to such unconventional structures, having worked to adapt Robert Graysmith’s book about the Zodiac killer for David Fincher’s 2007 masterpiece Zodiac. Among its quirks, the fact that the two lead characters don’t meet until the halfway point of the narrative mirrors itself in Nuremberg with Kelley and Jackson’s late first encounter. “Doing Zodiac gave me some confidence that I might know how to build this. Once I determined the movie would be about these three men, and we were going to follow them wherever they might go, that built the structure for me.”
“One of the things Jamie really latched onto, I think in a similar way to ZODIAC, was to look at the procedure of the trials – how the sausage really got made,” notes Fischer, who had produced Fincher’s film. “I credit Jamie with pulling open other history books and getting into Robert Jackson’s story; the onus Jackson took upon himself and his team to pave the way for international law.”
For his part, author Jack El-Hai appreciated Vanderbilt’s talent for finding new angles in Kelley’s story. “The mental adjustment I made when I optioned the book was that it wasn’t my story anymore,” says El-Hai, who visited the film’s set during production and was always on hand as a resource for Vanderbilt and the cast and crew. “I concluded my book is what it is, and that will never change, and that it’s wonderful to have somebody like Jamie, with a creative vision, to tease out other things from this story, and to expand the scope.”
Key in Vanderbilt’s mind was the idea that he wanted to create an accessible retelling of this history. “It was important to me that the movie not overstay its welcome,” he says. “I wanted it not to feel like medicine. I wanted it to be entertaining. It deals with some really serious themes, but a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down.”
Says Rami Malek, who would eventually be cast to play Douglas Kelley, “Jamie writes with great structure and rhythm, and he finds that thrilling quality we saw in ZODIAC. There’s also a dry sense of humor that is a thread throughout this entire film, because it’s a story about human beings, and in certain circumstances humans must find their own ways to escape the horrors. The way Jamie threads that needle so finely and elegantly, with characters you can root for in every corner of the film, is extraordinarily unique to him.”
It always starts from the top, says Russell Crowe, who would become the first cast member to sign on. Crowe notes that Vanderbilt’s commitment to the project reflected on every department. “Jamie has been a writer for other people, and he’s seen his ideas shaped by other people. That creates a level of determination within an artist, that when he gets that opportunity to direct, he knows what he wants to create.”
Leo Woodall, left, who plays the part of German Jew turned U.S. military translator Howie Triest, speaks on the set of Nuremberg with director James Vanderbilt, right. Scott Garfield/Sony Pictures Classics
The Psychology Of Evil
At the center of Nuremberg’s narrative lies the riveting dynamic between Lt. Col. Douglas Kelley and Hermann Göring. Their relationship forms the emotional and psychological core of the film, as Kelley seeks to understand the mind of his infamous patient, the charismatic and cunning Göring. Through a series of probing interviews and tense exchanges, the film explores the blurred boundaries between fascination and revulsion, empathy and condemnation. The evolving interplay between Kelley and Göring not only illuminates the complexities of evil but also challenges both men – and the audience – to confront uncomfortable truths about power, responsibility, and the human psyche.
For Russell Crowe, tapping into the humanity and inhumanity of a character like Herman Göring was an irresistible draw, even if he knew it would be an enormous challenge. “For the most part, the things that attract me are the things that terrify me,” he says. “I responded to the script straight away, but in a funny way I was also emotionally exhausted by it. How would you even attempt to play that guy? When that kind of question comes up, that’s usually what I’m attracted to.”
An Eager Psychiatrist
To play alongside Crowe’s Göring as Douglas Kelley, Vanderbilt knew he needed to find an actor who could not only go toe-to-toe with Crowe in their scenes together, but who could capture the nuance of personality that Kelley represents; a man who found himself charmed by the charisma of Hermann Göring, but who ultimately sounded the most cogent alarm about how dangerous these charms could be.
Kelley, says Vanderbilt, was a contradiction himself. “He was a scientist, and he was also an amateur magician who used to volunteer to sit in the backseat of cockpits to help the army test the effects of G-forces on the human body. We’re putting a psychiatrist on screen who is like nothing you’ve ever seen. He’s a daredevil, he’s a bit rash.”
Indeed, beyond his accomplishments as a psychiatrist, Douglas Kelley harbored a lifelong fascination with magic, delighting in the art of illusion and often performing sleight-of-hand tricks for friends and colleagues. This passion for magic was more than a mere hobby; it reflected his curiosity about the mind’s capacity for wonder and deception. Kelley saw parallels between the magician’s craft – misdirection, reading an audience, psychological manipulation – and his own work in psychiatry, where understanding human behavior and uncovering hidden truths were essential. His skills even found their way into his professional life, whether entertaining fellow doctors at conferences or employing psychological insights drawn from magic to better understand those he was tasked with analyzing.
Malek hadn’t just stopped at the script, but had charged ahead through Jack El-Hai’s source material, and summoned up a copy of 22 Cells At Nuremberg, Douglas Kelley’s book about his experiences there, which was not easy to track down having been out of print for decades. “I love history, and if you give me something to read, I’ll always gravitate to nonfiction over fiction,” says Malek. “Reading this script, I felt exactly as I hope audiences will when they come out of the movie, which is a sense of, ‘How did I not know this?’ It was a very unique perspective into one of the most devastatingly dangerous moments in history. It was shocking, and I found it so profoundly well-written and balanced. I thought, How can I be a part of this?”
Writer and director James Vanderbilt
James Vanderbilt is a talented writer, director, and producer whose diverse catalogue of films range from heavy-hitting blockbusters to edge-of-your-seat thrillers. Vanderbilt sold his first screenplay 48 hours before graduating from the University of Southern California. It was promptly not made.
He has written and produced over twenty films, including: David Fincher’s ZODIAC, for which he was nominated for a Writers Guild of America Award for Best Adapted Screenplay; THE AMAZING SPIDER-MAN films; the MURDER MYSTERY films; BASIC; THE RUNDOWN; THE LOSERS; WHITE HOUSE DOWN; THE HOUSE WITH THE CLOCK IN ITS WALLS; Luca Guadagnino’s SUSPIRIA; READY OR NOT; and the upcoming READY OR NOT 2.
In 2019, Vanderbilt co-founded the independent production and financing company Project X Entertainment (PXE), with partners William Sherak and Paul Neinstein. Since its launch, the company has produced: SCREAM (2022) and SCREAM VI, both of which Vanderbilt co-wrote; Michael Bay’s AMBULANCE; Radio Silence’s ABIGAIL; MURDER MYSTERY 2; and FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH. They are currently in production on HEADWATERS for Sony and SCREAM 7, as well as the global smash hit Netflix series THE NIGHT AGENT, created by Shawn Ryan.
Jack El-Hai bestselling The Nazi And The Psychiatrist
Jack El-Hai is the author of THE NAZI AND THE PSYCHIATRIST: HERMAN GÖRING, DR. DOUGLAS M. KELLEY, AND A FATAL MEETING OF THE MINDS AT THE END OF WWII (PublicAffairs Books), which has been adapted into the movie NUREMBERG. He is also an executive producer for the film. Published in nineteen languages, the book won a Minnesota Book Award for general nonfiction.
El-Hai’s writing covers history, science, medicine, and crime. His other nonfiction books include THE LOBOTOMIST: A MAVERICK MEDICAL GENIUS AND HIS TRAGIC QUEST TO RID THE WORLD OF MENTAL ILLNESS (Wiley; adapted into an American Experience/PBS documentary), FACE IN THE MIRROR: A SURGEON, A PATIENT, AND THE REMARKABLE STORY OF THE FIRST FACE TRANSPLANT AT MAYO CLINIC (Mayo Clinic Press), and THE LOST BROTHERS: A FAMILY’S DECADES-LONG SEARCH (University of Minnesota Press; adapted into the LONG LOST podcast).
He has contributed longform narratives and essays to The Atlantic, Smithsonian, GQ, Wired, Scientific American, and many other publications. He also publishes the free monthly Damn History newsletter for writers and readers of popular history. Born in Los Angeles, El-Hai received his Bachelor’s degree from Carleton College in Minnesota and his Master’s of Fine Arts degree (in nonfiction creative writing) from Bennington College in Vermont. He is a past president of the American Society of Journalists and Authors and is a past board chair of the Loft Literary Center. He lives in Minneapolis.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Mastering the Art of Dialogue
Dialogue is not Conversation. It’s a Function of Character. While it creates the illusion of conversation, it is selected, ordered and purposeful.
You must write dialogue. What characters say. How characters express themselves
Screenwriters and novelists approach dialogue from fundamentally different angles because they’re writing for different mediums
A screenwriter’s dialogue must be performable — spoken aloud, embodied, timed, and shaped by actors, directors, and the camera. It has to be lean, external, and driven by subtext because film can’t reveal a character’s thoughts directly; everything must be expressed through behaviour, tension, and what remains unsaid.
Novelists, by contrast, write dialogue that lives on the page and in the reader’s imagination. They can weave spoken lines with interior monologue, sensory detail, and narration, allowing dialogue to carry psychological depth, reflection, and texture.
Where screenwriters rely on economy and precision to keep scenes moving, novelists can linger, digress, or stylise speech to explore voice and consciousness. In essence, screenwriters craft dialogue as action, while novelists craft dialogue as thought — two different forms of truth shaped by the demands of performance versus the intimacy of prose.
Screenwriters sculpt spoken behaviour. Novelists sculpt consciousness on the page. Both forms demand precision — but the precision is aimed at different audiences: For screenwriters, dialogue is shaped by actors, directors, producers and editors. For novelists, dialogue is final on the page. No one else interprets or performs it. The novelist controls every nuance.
The Function Of Dialogue
Dialogue serves as the engine of human revelation in storytelling — the place where characters expose their desires, collide with each other, and shift the emotional temperature of a scene.
At its core, dialogue functions to move something: the plot, the relationship, the tension, or the audience’s understanding.
It externalizes intention, allowing characters to act through words rather than explanation.
It sharpens conflict by placing competing wants in direct contact.
It reveals personality through rhythm, diction, and silence. It shapes pacing, accelerating or slowing the narrative pulse.
And it creates immediacy — the feeling that we’re not being told a story but witnessing it unfold.
Whether on the page or on the screen, dialogue is never just conversation; it is purposeful, charged, and always in service of transformation.
Tips for writing great dialogue
Great dialogue isn’t about sounding “real.” It’s about sounding true — charged, purposeful, and alive inside the story’s emotional current. These five tips capture the craft at its most essential.
Let desire drive every line Dialogue becomes electric when each character wants something in the moment — approval, escape, dominance, reassurance, information, intimacy. When desire shifts, the dialogue shifts with it. Without a want, characters simply exchange words; with a want, they collide.
Cut the conversational fat Real conversations meander; great dialogue doesn’t. Remove greetings, filler, repetition, and anything that doesn’t move the scene. Start late, leave early, and let the audience fill in the gaps. The sharpest lines often come from what you don’t allow characters to say.
Use subtext as the real conversation The most powerful dialogue happens beneath the words. Let characters dodge, deflect, contradict themselves, or speak around the truth. What they hide reveals more than what they confess. If the line says one thing but means another, you’re in the right territory.
Give each character a distinct verbal fingerprint People speak with different rhythms, vocabularies, and emotional temperatures. One character may answer in fragments; another in long, spiraling sentences. One jokes under pressure; another goes silent. Distinct voices prevent dialogue from sounding interchangeable.
Let silence do some of the talking Pauses, interruptions, and unfinished sentences carry emotional weight. A character who says nothing at the right moment can shift the entire scene. Silence is often the most honest line in the room.
We watch a FILM. We hear a PLAY. We read a BOOK.
In THE WRITE JOURNEY course, we explore the functions of dialogue, how to convey exposition effectively, and how to craft purposeful subtext, and you will write dialogue‑driven scenes that your coach will evaluate.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Hamnet – A tale about the complexities of love and the healing power of art and creativity
From Academy Award winning writer/director Chloé Zhao, Hamnet tells the powerful story of love and loss that inspired the creation of Shakespeare’s timeless masterpiece, Hamlet.
With such nuanced, sensitive and insightful films as 2017’s The Rider and 2020’s Oscar®-winning drama Nomadland, writer-director Chloé Zhao has earned a reputation as one of the most singularly gifted filmmakers of her generation. Now, as writer-producer-director-editor, she brings her visionary approach to Hamnet. The film centers on the marriage between Agnes and William Shakespeare and explores the tumultuous events involving the couple’s son Hamnet, which would ultimately inspire the creation of the Bard’s timeless masterpiece, Hamlet.
The film springs from the pages of Maggie O’Farrell’s acclaimed eighth novel, Hamnet, which won the National Book Critics Circle Award, the Women’s Prize for Fiction and was cited as one of 2020’s five best works of fiction by the New York Times Book Review. For O’Farrell, the story was one she’d hoped to tell for nearly three decades, after having discovered little-discussed details of Shakespeare’s family life, specifically the death of his only son Hamnet, who succumbed to the plague at just 11 years old.
“I always felt it was very unjust to this boy that nobody ever made the connection between this child called Hamnet and the play that was written four or five years later called Hamlet,” O’Farrell says. “This child had become so sidelined, a footnote in his very famous father’s story. So, the whole impetus to me writing the book was to put him on stage and to say that this child was important. He was loved. Without him, we wouldn’t have Hamlet. We owe this child so much, yet he was not part of the conversation at all.”
Although he receives title billing in O’Farrell’s novel, the child is not the central protagonist in her story. That role instead falls to Agnes(O’Farrell calls her character by the name she was given at birth, pronounced Ann-yis, rather than the more familiar Anne). The experienced falconer, forager and healer is as untamed as the lush and verdant landscape that surrounds her home. Her strong connection to the natural world borders on the mystical, and her wild, unconventional demeanor is instantly attractive to Will, who also harbors rebellious feelings toward his domineering father and the strictures of late 16th century society.
Together, they make a formidable duo whose passions are in sync for much of the early years of their marriage. But their bond begins to fray as Will, encouraged by Agnes, pursues his dreams of creative expression. His sojourns from their Stratford-Upon-Avon home to London to work in theater are his lifeblood, something his wife understands all too well, but his absence is felt keenly by his family, particularly little Hamnet. Agnes uses her skills to make a lovely home for the boy and his two sisters, Susanna and Judith, though some forces prove too strong for even the most fiercely protective mother to keep at bay.
After Hamnet’s sudden illness and demise, the family is sent reeling from the loss, yet Agnes must remain steadfast in her commitment to her daughters and her husband. Still, the couple struggles to move beyond tragedy and find a path toward forgiveness, acceptance and fulfillment. Agnes immerses herself in nature, while Will pours his grief into a play that would live on throughout the centuries, Hamlet (which, in the 16th century, was a common variant of his son’s name)—about a teenage prince who outlives his murdered father. Each finds a kind of catharsis in the act of creativity and imagination, giving meaning to the suffering they’ve experienced.
Hamnet is about love and death and how these two foundational human experiences can alchemize and transform each other through art and storytelling.
It’s a story of metamorphosis.
I don’t often have words to describe why I choose a project. I’m often guided by instinct, a tight pull on my heart center. Stories appear in my life as if they have chosen me and I have no choice but to surrender to them. Hamnet came into my life like a whisper that grew into a hurricane. By the end of the journey, I was tenderized. I had truly experienced what it feels like to live with an open heart in the eye of a storm – the beauty, the pain, the thrill at the edge of annihilation and the silence.
From the black hole in the spring ground of the old forest to the dark door on the stage of the rain-soaked Globe Theatre, I descended with a village of brave souls and together we held onto each other and let the underground currents of our unconscious take us. In the chaos we asked Agnes and William to guide us. We asked all the women past and present who suffered great pain and loss and the men who suppressed their feelings and ran away from themselves to guide us. We asked the forest, the river, the earth to guide us, and we asked our own wild hearts that desperately yearn for freedom and peace to guide us. In the end, as we danced on and off the stage of the Globe, the veils between reality and fiction, past and present, the seen and the unseen, love and death dissolved. There was no separation. We were one in those precious moments. I felt in my body, in my bones, that love doesn’t die, it transforms.
I have been afraid of death all my life and as a result, I have been afraid of love as well. I didn’t know how to keep my heart open staring at the impermanence of life. I’ve made four films about characters experiencing great loss and finding themselves through acceptance. HAMNET is the accumulation of that journey. With the sacred container of Shakespeare’s Hamlet, I went down deeper into the underworld to retrieve what was lost, that made me so afraid to experience both love and death. Maggie had opened a portal with her book, a bridge for us to connect with Will in ways we haven’t before.
“All things in life must die, passing through nature to eternity.”
“To be or not to be, that is the question.”
“The rest is silence.”
Will had written a story about love and death and I feel honored and fortunate to be able to interpret his messages for today’s audience. We knew, felt, that he was with us.
In our story, Agnes and William fell in love and had a beautiful family until they both found themselves at a threshold after the death of their son. They couldn’t go back to the past and they couldn’t move on. They are frozen in a liminal place, pulled towards opposing directions but cannot move an inch.
It is with such tension ALCHEMY occurred. In physics, when forces pull or push in opposing directions, they create tension. When that tension is too strong, it leads to movement and a new state of equilibrium: in the exact moment when Will finds himself between land and sea, life and death – one of the greatest pieces of literature was born.
Our world is at a threshold. We all feel the immense tension and pressure. We can sense a new state of equilibrium approaching. Many of us are frozen in a liminal place, afraid to move. I see the fears that plague me in others’ eyes. The fear of what will come. The fear that we don’t have control over our own lives. The fear that we are no longer safe in this world. The fear that we will never know unconditional love. And ultimately, the fear of death, a death without meaning.
The deepest reason for making this film is to bring disillusionment to that fear by showing the power of metamorphosis we have within us as human beings and our ability to alchemize our experiences no matter how painful they are.
We are all born into this world feeling the tension of the void. We must make a choice to keep our hearts open and walk through the flames.
Love doesn’t die, it transforms. It is the greatest metamorphosis in this universe, and I hope our film serves as a humble reminder of that.
Hamnet’s journey to the screen began when Hera Pictures founder and producer Liza Marshall received an early copy in November 2019, several months prior to the book’s publication in March of 2020. “Because I’d read all Maggie O’Farrell’s previous novels and I’m such a super fan, I sat down and read the whole book in one night and completely fell in love with it,” Marshall recalls. “It was such an extraordinary, moving piece of writing.”
Securing the rights to adapt the novel, Marshall eventually came to partner with both Neal Street Productions’ Pippa Harris (1917) and Book of Shadows’ Nicolas Gonda (Knight of Cups) on the project. Harris, too, had read O’Farrell’s novel and found it to be meticulously researched and incredibly moving. Harris’ producing partner, Oscar®-winning filmmaker Sam Mendes, signed on to produce. Joining them was Steven Spielberg’s shingle Amblin Entertainment, with whom Neal Street had made the lauded World War I drama 1917. The film industry legend chose to sign on as a producer on the film as well.
For the producers, recruiting the right filmmaker to take the reins of the project was critical; they were seeking someone who would respond to the elliptical nature of O’Farrell’s writing and the unconventional nature of her heroine. All agreed that Chinese-born, British-educated writer-director Chloé Zhao, given her impeccable artistic résumé, was an ideal candidate. “Liza, Pippa, Steven and I all felt that Chloé was the perfect director for this material. Not only does she have an entirely unique approach to film making, she is also one of the most empathetic souls I’ve ever met. Her close collaboration with Jessie, Paul and the rest of the cast allowed them to flourish as actors in extraordinary ways, and to make a movie that combines rawness and delicacy in ways I’ve never seen,” notes Mendes.
“The beautiful and memorable storytelling in Maggie O’Farrell’s best-selling novel deserved to be brought to the screen by a filmmaker who would protect the material’s integrity and demonstrate an intuitive understanding of the emotional and complex journey that the characters—and the audience—take over the course of the story. There was only one director I knew who would bring Hamnet to the screen with such compassionate care, and that is Chloé Zhao,” says Spielberg. “In adapting the novel with Maggie, Chloé’s inherent humanity, unerring sense of narrative, and gift for getting remarkable performances infuse every frame of Hamnet”.
The first female of color and first Asian woman to win the best director prize at the Academy Awards® for Nomadland, which also nabbed the best picture Oscar®, Zhaohad earned acclaim as someone whose films, which often featured non-professional actors, were visually arresting tales interrogating the condition of people on society’s margins with great sensitivity and insight.
“Chloé has a rare gift for distilling stories to their purest essence, uncovering the soul within the structure,” says producer Gonda. “She doesn’t just look at the surface of a story — she wants to understand what pulses underneath it. With a figure as iconic and unknowable as Shakespeare, it takes someone with Chloé’s particular sensitivity and curiosity to uncover not just the facts, but the emotional truths hiding between them.”
O’Farrell was excited by the choice. “Chloé, with a lot of her work, she’s in a very interesting dialogue with art and authenticity and the relationship between the two and how they pull together and pull apart,” she says. “The film is about why we need art, why we make it, where it comes from, where it’s pulled from in your soul.”
Once Zhao was presented with the novel, she immediately connected to it on a spiritual level. “I felt her book was very immersive,” Zhao says. “It was a very visceral experience. It was a very poetic experience. It read almost like poetry to me, which is the type of cinematic language I love. As a filmmaker, when I was reading it, I was seeing images added together in a rhythm. I felt that there is a heartbeat in this book that matches the rhythm of the heartbeat of me as a filmmaker, and I also loved the story. I’m always looking for stories that are both very, very specific and universal at the same time, and this book really is that.”
“I was also very excited because the story touches on death and impermanence and grief and how the act of creativity and imagination could give meaning to the inevitable suffering that we go through in life,” Zhao continues. “When you have source material like that, it’s gold.”
Not only did she want to direct, but she also wanted to write the HAMNET screenplay together with O’Farrell. She sought to shed the typically stuffy trappings of a costume drama to instead create a film about love, loss and the healing power of great art as something visceral, raw and relatable.“Maggie has immersed herself so much [in this world] that she is the embodiment of all these characters, so collaborating with her was vital for me to be able to be inspired by the authentic world and these characters I have,” Zhao says. “There was just no question for me, I had to do that. And also, she’s an incredible writer. We were true partners.”
Zhao’s intention to faithfully translate the spirit of O’Farrell’s acclaimed work of historical fiction to the screen was present from the duo’s earliest conversations—the film was always intended to be one that devotees of the novel could very much embrace. Although the author was thrilled that HAMNET might hew so closely to her novel, O’Farrell concedes she personally felt some trepidation about reconstructing the story for film yet was delighted to discover her inner screenwriter.
“I know how to put down a narrative for the page and know how to put together the plot of a novel—that’s my job and that’s my heart,” she says. “But I had never written for the screen, and I wasn’t sure if I could do it. The mechanics of the narrative is different, the language is different, and the visual language is, of course, different. Something that appears on the page as an interior thought, you need as a scriptwriter to express that either through the visual language or the actual dialogue. That was a really interesting exercise.”
Despite working in different time zones, Zhao’s clear vision for the chronology of the narrative and for its characters helped propel the writing process. The director would often leave What’s App messages for her screenwriting partner that would help inspire revisions and rewrites; as they sent pages back and forth to one another, HAMNET eventually began to take on its final contours.
“You want the audience to see themselves in these characters,” Zhao says. “I want to try to open the hearts of the audience, soften them so they can feel the emotions these characters are feeling. Once they catch the wave with us, with our characters, then they have a chance to also experience catharsis. That’s always the creative goal of my films. Once they go through that catharsis, then they, like these characters, find some meaning from these difficult life situations, and hopefully become more whole through the experience of viewing the film.”
Readers familiar with Maggie O’Farrell’s Hamnet understand the hypnotic nature of her prose and the vivid detail with which she evokes every aspect of the Shakespeare family’s daily lives. A testament to the extensive research she completed before sitting down to write the novel, O’Farrell describes the tools of John’s workshop, the earthy aroma of Agnes’s garden, the scratching of Will’s quills against parchment.
Filmmaker Chloé Zhao was committed to capturing that same level of authentic detail on screen, and she partnered with expert craftspeople to ensure that the screen adaptation thrummed with the same kind of vibrant life as its source material. That group included two-time Oscar®-nominated cinematographer Łukasz Żal (The Zone of Interest, Ida), Oscar®-nominated production designer Fiona Crombie (The Favourite), costume designer Malgosia Turzanska (The Green Knight) and hair and makeup designer Nicole Stafford (Speak No Evil).
Building Character: Casting The Film
Even before the screenplay was completed, Zhao had strong ideas about the actors who might take on Hamnet’s immensely challenging leading roles. In fact, she’d informally met with two of them at the 2022 Telluride Film Festival. That year, Irish actors Jessie Buckley and Paul Mescal had traveled to the Colorado mountains, each to promote a different film. For Buckley, it was the drama Women Talking, about a Mennonite community torn apart by sexual assault. For Mescal, it was the moving father-daughter drama Aftersun.
“Right from the beginning, Jessie was the actress that Chloé had in mind, and now, when you look at Jessie on screen, you can’t imagine anybody else playing that part,” producer Pippa Harris says of the character, who is so deeply rooted in nature and mysticism. “She embodies Agnes. She has a lot of her character within her. She loves the wilderness. She is quite a wild child in the sense that she’s very much at one with nature. She’s slightly mystical. She believes in the soul and the spirits, and she’s a really caring person—I think that that pulses out of her on screen.”
For her part, Buckley had an overwhelmingly positive response to both the story of Hamnet and to the character of Agnes. Reading the novel for the first time, she devoured the novel in one sitting, totally absorbed in the world O’Farrell had created and the magnetic figure at its center. Later, when she received the screenplay for the film, she was moved to tears. “I was like this is the woman I’ve been looking for,” Buckley says. “She is untethered, free, deeply curious, like a kind of rye whiskey, mischievous, hungry, beautiful soul of a woman. I just love her. She’s like one of those people I wanted to be my new best friend.”
In Will’s absence, Agnes gives John a wide berth and instead turns to her younger brother Bartholomew in moments of crisis. Played by Joe Alwyn (Harriet, The Brutalist), the farmer offers his sister his unconditional love and support. “They’re incredibly close, but they’re not together all the time,” says Alwyn of the siblings. “They’ve been almost forged together off the grid somehow in the forest. Bartholomew is both incredibly protective of her but also understands the strength of her well enough to not get in the way of what she is going to do. So, it’s this nice balance of protectiveness but also giving someone the space and freedom to grow.”
As Will, Mescal had the unenviable challenge of humanizing a literary icon. “For hundreds of years, Shakespeare has become this person we hold up on a pedestal, but he must have had all these complicated urges within him to write from the place that he wrote,” Mescal says. “The thing that I had to do was make this character my own. I had to stick to the history, of course, but the main thing that I focused on was his work. The only thing that we really know is that these are the words he put on paper. That is his lived experience. If you dig into the meaning of certain soliloquies, you find the roots of who he is. That was where I put my attention.”
Studying Shakespeare’s words, then bringing his own unique energy to the role, helped Mescal craft a character who felt both real and relatable.
CHLOÉ ZHAO(Director, Co-Screenwriter, Executive Producer, Co-Editor) is a writer, director, editor and producer from Beijing. Her third feature Nomadland earned acclaims including Golden Lion at the 2020 Venice Film Festival, Golden Globe®️ , BAFTA, DGA, PGA Awards and 3 Oscars®️ , including Best Director, Best Actress and Best Picture. Chloé co-wrote and directed Marvel Studios’ Eternals. In 2023, she launched Book of Shadows, a production company, with producing partner Nic Gonda. Most recently, Chloé co-wrote and directed HAMNET starring Paul Mescal and Jessie Buckley, to be released in 2025.
MAGGIE O’FARRELL (Co-Screenwriter) is one of the most loved writers in the English language. Her debut, After You’d Gone, marked the start of a career which has established Maggie as one of the great storytellers of our times. From that point onwards, Maggie has enjoyed critical acclaim and received numerous literary awards. The Hand that First Held Mine won the 2010 Costa Novel Award. HAMNET, which imagined the untold story of Shakespeare’s son, won the 2020 Women’s Prize for Fiction and was Waterstones’ Book of the Year, and was also a no. 1 bestseller. Her most recent novel, The Marriage Portrait, was shortlisted for the Women’s Prize. Maggie has recently co-written, with Chloé Zhao, the screenplay for HAMNET. The forthcoming film will star Paul Mescal and Jessie Buckley and will be directed by academy-award-winner Chloé Zhao (Nomadland). Hamnet has previously been adapted for the stage by the Royal Shakespeare Company.Maggie is also the author of three books for children, Where Snow Angels Go, The Boy Who Lost His Spark and When the Stutter Came to Stay. She was born in Coleraine in Northern Ireland and grew up in Wales and Scotland. Currently, she lives in Edinburgh.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on 28 Years Later: The Bone Temple – The real threat to humanity emerges
Expanding upon the world created by Danny Boyle and Alex Garland in 28 Years Later – but turning that world on its head – Nia DaCosta directs 28 Years Later: The Bone Temple.
In a continuation of the epic story, Dr. Kelson (Ralph Fiennes) finds himself in a shocking new relationship – with consequences that could change the world as they know it – and Spike’s (Alfie Williams) encounter with Jimmy Crystal (Jack O’Connell) becomes a nightmare he can’t escape. In the world of The Bone Temple, the infected are no longer the greatest threat to survival – the inhumanity of the survivors can be stranger and more terrifying.
28 Years Later: The Bone Temple expands upon the extent of the virus’ devastation
As the infection continues to run rampant, the real threat to humanity emerges – humans themselves. As Nia DaCosta takes the directorial reins from Danny Boyle, she infuses the new story with her own elevated, auteur-driven sense of horror and vision for this dystopian world.
Says Danny Boyle, “Nia was the perfect choice to direct The Bone Temple. Alex Garland and I had long been fans of her reimagining of Candyman and recognised that Nia has serious horror chops – and a genuine love for the original 28 Days Later.She honours what fans love about the franchise while making the new film her own, taking the series into even darker, more intense areas.”
Alex Garland, who created this world with Boyle, again serves as the screenwriter
“28 Years Later was a big story, and it couldn’t be told in one film,” he says.
“What connects the two films is that they’re both bonkers, idiosyncratic, and artistically personal works,” DaCosta notes. “When I initially discussed the new film with Danny and Alex, I told them, ‘I’m going to make it my own. I’m not going to try to make ‘a Danny Boyle movie.’ Because that’s impossible to make. Alex’s script was very different from 28 Years Later, so it lends itself to a different approach. I could really put my imprint on it – to let my freak flag fly – and be visually adventurous and matching that with more classical filmmaking.”
“From the start, Nia told Danny and me that the camera would not move in the way Danny moves the camera, and it would not be edited in the way Danny cuts,” Garland confirms. “That was very impressive to Danny because most people’s instinct would have been to duplicate his style, and Nia didn’t do that. That was impressive and smart. Her film is quite different, and that’s a good thing.”
“We have Jimmy Crystal and his followers and their world, and Kelson and his world,” DaCosta explains. “Spike moves between the two, so it was interesting to have a different filmmaking style for each character.”
DaCosta’s imprint included deepening the emotional journeys of Kelson, Spike, and Jimmy Crystal, while uncovering more about the infected – and the world-changing possibilities of trying to undo the plague.
Kelson And Samson Evolve
“The Bone Temple reminds us that everything seems hopeless,” DaCosta says. “But at the same time, if you’re still alive, you can accomplish something meaningful with your life. For Dr. Ian Kelson, it’s building this monument to death, which inversely, is what gives him the energy to live.”
With three-time Oscar nominee Ralph Fiennes taking on an even larger role, as the complex physician turned Bone Temple creator/builder/curator/caretaker, the film features additional backstory on Kelson and more of his relationship with Samson, the mammoth Alpha he regularly sedates but avoids killing. Their evolving dynamic is a key element of the movie. “We’ve seen Samson do monstrous things,” DaCosta notes, “but Kelson sees a lot more to him.”
Fiennes says Kelson’s relationship with Samson stems from an intense moment from 28 Years Later, when an infected woman gave birth to a baby who was not infected. “The new film explores the theme of innate humanity – is it still alive in the soul, in the heart, and in the mind of an infected person?” he asks. “Are they completely corrupted? Or is there the possibility of something human still there?”
Kelson had created a sense of purpose in building his monument to the dead – The Bone Temple. “But Samson ultimately changes the trajectory of Kelson’s life even more, and in a way that’s beautiful and incredibly important,” hints DaCosta. “Not just for Kelson, but for what it means for the world at large.”
Fiennes details the history between Kelson and the Alpha. “In 28 Years Later, we met this musclebound infected human, Samson, who is violent and dangerous. When encountering Samson, Kelson would blow morphine-tinged darts into him, which would tranquilize Samson.”
That tranquility, says DaCosta, is transformative for the monstrous figure. “The pleasurable experience afforded by the morphine darts attaches Samson to Kelson because Samson realizes that Kelson is giving him peace for these small moments. Kelson begins to understand this and fosters a relationship that grows throughout the film, and Samson begins to transform in ways that are unexpected and exciting.
“The dynamic is fueled by Kelson’s loneliness, as well as his curiosity,” she continues. “It’s almost like one couldn’t exist without the other, and it’s a very potent combination. For Samson, the morphine brings them together in a way that’s initially terrifying – we’ve seen him rip people’s heads off! As the complexity of Samson’s thoughts and cognitive processes becomes apparent, Kelson recognizes this, leading to the development of a relationship between them.”
Adds Fiennes: “Kelson succeeds in slowly getting this infected Alpha to reveal his humanness.”
When we met Samson, in 28 Years Later, he was a force of nature, capable of incredible speeds and feats of horrific strength. He also possessed an unexpected – at least for an infected – intelligence. But courtesy of Kelson’s morphine-tinged darts, Samson, again embodied by Chi Lewis-Parry, undergoes the beginnings of a stunning transformation that could change the world.
For Lewis-Parry, “Samson represents hope. When we met Samson, he was an apex predator committing monstrously violent acts. The mutation of the virus has had a steroidal effect on some of the infected, including Samson, turning him into a kind of super-infected.”
We learn that Samson, even in his most primordial form, is more aware than the other infected, and holds a higher status. “We understand that he is an intelligent creature and not just a mindless, rage-filled infected creature,” Lewis-Parry continues. “So, we tried to put a purpose behind the violence.”
Samson slowly learns that Kelson wants the best for him – that he wants Samson to heal.
DaCosta credits Lewis-Parry with conveying Samson’s physical, emotional, and intellectual transformation. “Chi’s unique temperament helped us all get through building Samson. The character has a huge journey that affects the way he acts, looks and even moves. It was so beautiful watching him and Ralph and their characters’ relationship develop.”
Spike’s Journey Continues
In 28 Years Later, Kelson had made a very different, but equally significant impact on the character of Spike, a young man who had undergone a transformative rite of passage, from a neophyte warrior belonging to a generation that doesn’t know a time before infection, into a bold and creative protector.
In that film, says Garland, “Spike encountered Kelson, who looked and acted strange, but turned out to be compassionate. Later, Spike meets the Jimmies, who are the opposite of compassionate. He must survive in that world with these very dangerous people, who are different from anyone he’s ever known.”
Alfie Williams, who again takes on the role of Spike, enjoyed bringing additional facets of the character to the new story. Williams’s Spike continues as the franchise’s emotional throughline, as the character navigates the ongoing horrors of the infected, the even more sinister menaces of the people left behind, and the brutal choices they make to survive.
“As we saw in 28 Years Later, Spike was basically a normal kid, living in a very abnormal world,” Williams says. “He loved his mum and dad and just wanted them to be a family like they used to be before she got sick. Spike was desperate to find a way to save her but ultimately did the best he could to protect and then remember her.
“Now, everything has changed for Spike,” Williams continues. “He’s more mature, and he’s out in the world on his own.”
Garland confirms that while, “Spike’s story began as a family story, it has now become a story about becoming an adult.”
Adds DaCosta, “Spike has gone through this hero’s journey but soon finds himself being forced to attach himself to this weird group of people that initially save him. Spike realizes they’re absolutely mad and now he’s trapped with this roaming band of psychos. That’s his next journey: he must figure out how to escape and what to do next.”
This next phase of Spike’s adventure kicks off in a terrifying manner, with the young man, whom we had seen meeting Jimmy Crystal and his cult, the Jimmies, at the end of 28 Years Later, now being forced by the Jimmies to engage in a fight to the death – a twisted kind of initiation to earn his spot in the cult. “Spike is terrified, and about to engage in a knife fight to the death with one of the Jimmies, Jimmy Shite,” Williams explains. “It’s obviously a big moment for him. Spike must stay with the Jimmies because he has no other choice. If he tries to leave, they’ll kill him. Spike must do whatever their leader, Jimmy Crystal, tells him to do.”
Lord Of The Apocalypse
Spike’s journey, then, is closely linked to Jimmy Crystal, the deviant head of a cult of young people whose reign of terror across the countryside surpasses even the horrors of the infected. When we met the character, via a flashback, in the previous film, he was a young boy who suffered what would become endless trauma when he watched his father, a parish priest, willingly become infected.
Now, 28 years later, the violent, sadistic, manipulative, and Satan-worshiping cult leader and his followers embrace a twisted post-outbreak ideology. They exploit society’s collapse to spread fear and gain power, introducing a new kind of evil into the world.
Garland notes that Jimmy’s traumatic experience, as filtered through the mind of a youngster, “has led to some weird belief systems and a very skewed moral compass. So, that is the twisted world and worldview that Spike finds himself having to survive.”
“Jimmy has created this sense of purpose and meaning around a fake relationship with the devil, whom Jimmy believes is his father because of the shock he experienced as a child,” says DaCosta. “So, he’s found a way to survive, which includes these other young people, the Jimmies, who buy into his weird anti-religion, anti-Christ beliefs. Moreover, Jimmy is incredibly charismatic, quite funny, and a camp representation of the corruption of innocence. He’s a completely insane, wounded, and broken person who is also incredibly entertaining, funny, and occasionally generous.”
Jack O’Connell returns as Jimmy, following the character’s brief but unforgettable introduction in 28 Years Later.
NIA DACOSTA (Director) is one of the freshest and most in-demand voices in Hollywood having written and directed projects for stage, film and television.
Up next, DaCosta wrote, directed, and produced Hedda, a reimagining of Henrik Ibsen’s famous play “Hedda Gabler”, starring Tessa Thompson as the title character for MGM’s Orion Pictures and Plan B. The film premiered at the Toronto International Film Festival on September 7, 2025, and will be released in theaters on October 23, 2025 and on Prime Video on October 29, 2025.
Currently, DaCosta is in post-production on28 Years Later: The Bone Temple, starring Cillian Murphy, Ralph Fiennes, and Jack O’Connell among many others. The film is the fourth installment of the 28 Years Later series and will be released in theaters on January 16, 2026.
Most recently, Nia directed and co-wrote the highly anticipated Captain Marvel sequel, The Marvels, making her the first Black woman to direct a Marvel Studios picture and the youngest person to direct a film for the studio. The superhero film, starring Brie Larson, Teyonah Parris, and Iman Vellani, was released in theaters on November 10, 2023.
In 2021, Nia directed and co-wrote the Universal Studios feature film Candyman. Produced by Oscar-winner Jordan Peele’s Monkeypaw Productions, the film is a contemporary spiritual sequel of the 1992 cult horror classic of the same name, dealing with the power—and perils—of storytelling, while highlighting timely issues of gentrification, racial profiling and race-based violence. Candyman, starring Yahya Abdul-Mateen II, Teyonah Parris, and Colman Domingo, was released on August 27, 2021 and debuted at #1 at the box office, receiving overwhelming critical acclaim.
Her debut feature, Little Woods, was developed through the Sundance Institute and starred Tessa Thompson and Lily James. The film dealt with real-world topics including access to health care, poverty and criminal justice through the story of two estranged sisters who must work outside the law to better their lives. It premiered at the 2018 Tribeca Film Festival and was released theatrically by Neon in 2019, earning a 96% score on Rotten Tomatoes
In television, she previously directed two episodes of the third season of the Netflix revival, Top Boy. Nia also worked as a writer for the HBO series Industry with U.K.’s Bad Wolf.
Nia received a BFA in Film and Television from Tisch School of the Arts at NYU and a MA in Writing for Stage and Broadcast Media from the Royal Central School of Speech and Drama in London. She currently resides in London.
ALEX GARLAND’s (Writer, Producer) latest film Warfare, which he co-wrote and directed with Navy SEAL veteran Ray Mendoza, was released April 11, 2025. Garland teamed with A24 on Warfare, as he did on his 2024 film Civil War, starring Kirsten Dunst and Cailee Spaeny.
Garland directed the 2022 horror film Men, the 2018 film Annihilation, and the 2014 film Ex Machina, for which he was nominated for Best Original Screenplay at the Academy Awards, as well as three BAFTAs, including Best Original Screenplay. Garland created, wrote, and directed Devs, an eight-part miniseries for FX starring Nick Offerman, which premiered spring 2020.
Most recently, DANNY BOYLE (Producer) directed 28 YEARS LATER, which was released on June 20th, 2025, reprising his role as director of the original film 28 DAYS LATER. Returning again to the franchise, Boyle’s next project will be 28 YEARS LATER: THE BONE TEMPLE. Prior to 28 YEARS LATER, Boyle directed the films YESTERDAY, STEVE JOBS, 127 HOURS, and SLUMDOG MILLIONAIRE, one of the few films in motion picture history that swept the Oscars, the BAFTAs, the Golden Globes, PGA and DGA for both Best Picture and Best Director.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Kiss Of The Spider Woman – A musical drama about love in confinement, imagination in despair
Kiss of the Spider Woman (2025) is a musical drama written and directed by Bill Condon, inspired by Manuel Puig’s 1976 novel and its subsequent stage and film adaptations. it carries forward a legacy that spans literature, Broadway, and cinema, exploring themes of love, repression, and political resistance in Argentina’s Dirty War era.
The 2025 film Kiss of the Spider Woman represents a bold attempt to reimagine a story that has already lived several lives across different mediums.
Written and directed by Bill Condon, known for his work on Dreamgirls and Beauty and the Beast, the film adapts the 1992 Broadway musical by Terrence McNally, John Kander, and Fred Ebb, itself based on Manuel Puig’s 1976 novel. Puig’s book was first adapted into a 1985 film directed by Héctor Babenco, which won William Hurt an Academy Award for Best Actor. Condon’s version, however, embraces the musical form, weaving song and spectacle into the intimate, claustrophobic setting of a prison cell in 1980s Argentina.
The film follows Luis Molina (Tonatiuh), a gay window dresser imprisoned for indecency, and Valentín Arregui (Diego Luna), a political dissident jailed for his revolutionary activities. Molina, flamboyant and imaginative, retells the plot of his favorite Hollywood musical starring diva Aurora (Jennifer Lopez), using fantasy as a means of survival and connection. The narrative oscillates between the harsh reality of incarceration and the lush escapism of musical storytelling, creating a duality that underscores the film’s themes: the power of art to resist despair, and the fragile bonds of intimacy forged under oppression.
The performances anchor the film’s emotional weight. Tonatiuh’s portrayal of Molina captures both vulnerability and flamboyance, embodying a character who refuses to surrender to despair. Diego Luna’s Valentín provides a counterpoint of stoic resistance, gradually softened by Molina’s storytelling. Jennifer Lopez, as Aurora, embodies the fantasy figure who bridges the prison’s grim reality with the escapist allure of cinema. Together, the cast underscores the film’s central tension: the collision between repression and imagination, politics and art, despair and love.
Condon’s inspiration for revisiting the material lies in its timeless resonance.
The Dirty War backdrop, with its climate of fear, censorship, and political persecution, mirrors contemporary anxieties about authoritarianism and marginalized identities. By framing Molina as a genderqueer figure and emphasizing the musical’s flamboyant theatricality, Condon sought to give Hollywood treatment to communities often excluded from mainstream narratives. The director’s choice to blend realism with fantasy echoes Puig’s original intent: to show how storytelling itself becomes a survival mechanism, a way to reclaim dignity in the face of systemic violence.
The legacy of Kiss of the Spider Woman is central to understanding the 2025 film’s significance
Puig’s novel was groundbreaking in its exploration of sexuality, politics, and repression, written at a time when Argentina was under dictatorship. The 1985 film adaptation brought international recognition, winning acclaim for its performances and daring subject matter. The 1992 Broadway musical, with music by Kander and Ebb, transformed the story into a spectacle of song and dance, winning the Tony Award for Best Musical. Each iteration has reinterpreted the material for its medium, and Condon’s film continues this lineage by merging cinematic realism with musical fantasy.
The film’s ambition lies in its attempt to bridge art forms and histories, situating a Latin American narrative within the Hollywood musical tradition while foregrounding queer and marginalised voices. In doing so, it challenges the boundaries of genre and representation.
The significance of Kiss of the Spider Woman (2025) lies in its layered exploration of identity, resistance, and storytelling.
It reminds audiences that art can be both a weapon and a refuge. By revisiting a narrative that has already traversed novel, film, and stage, Condon’s adaptation highlights the enduring relevance of Puig’s themes. The film situates itself within a broader cultural conversation about representation, offering visibility to queer and Latinx identities while interrogating the costs of political repression. Its failure at the box office ironically underscores the risks of ambitious art in a commercial landscape, but its resonance lies in its ability to provoke reflection and dialogue.
Ultimately, Kiss of the Spider Woman (2025) is more than a retelling; it is a testament to the power of legacy. From Puig’s novel to Babenco’s film, from Broadway’s musical to Condon’s adaptation, the story has continually evolved, each version refracting its themes through new lenses. The film contributes to the ongoing life of a narrative that insists on being told — a narrative about love in confinement, imagination in despair, and the spider woman who embodies both danger and desire. In its ambition, it affirms that some stories are too vital to remain hidden, too resonant to fade, and too transformative to be confined to a single medium.
Bill Condon (Writer/Director) is a celebrated film director and screenwriter who first came to Park City with Gods and Monsters, a poetic meditation on the final days of Frankenstein director James Whale. Kiss of the Spider Woman not only marks Condon’s return to Sundance, but a reconnection with the work of legendary songwriters John Kander & Fred Ebb, whose stage musical Chicago he also adapted for the screen. Condon wrote and directed Kinsey, an uncompromising portrait of one of the 20th century’s most influential and controversial figures, which starred Liam Neeson and Laura Linney. His acclaimed adaptation of the Broadway smash Dreamgirls. Other recent films include the blockbuster musical Beauty and the Beast, The Good Liar, and a celebrated revival of the musical Side Show, which premiered at Washington D.C.’s Kennedy Center before coming to Broadway.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Marty Supreme interrogates the timeless themes of ambition, identity, and self‑destruction
Marty Supreme was written and directed by Josh Safdie, co‑written with Ronald Bronstein, and inspired by the real‑life figure Marty Reisman, a flamboyant Jewish‑American table tennis champion of the 1950s. It’s a bold, kinetic portrait of a fast-talking New York City dreamer, hellbent on turning an overlooked sport into his personal springboard to glory.
“Marty is the quintessential dreamer, in that he’s the ultimate romantic and the most relentless optimist,” says writer-director Josh Safdie, “It’s a coming-of-age story, which explores how in youth an uncompromising individuality can be both freeing and restricting. For Marty, his blind faith in his dream leads him in an indirect way to true self-discovery…to real change.”
With his seventh feature film — marking a seventeen-year career that began with his solo directorial debut The Pleasure of Being Robbed, acquired by IFC and premiering in Cannes in 2008 — Safdie brings his signature adrenaline-charged style and emotional heft to this globe-spanning epic. The result, researched and developed over many years, is a fresh, fun, full-throttle thrill-ride journeying from the Lower East Side to London, Paris, Tokyo and the Great Pyramids and back.
“Marty’s commitment to his dream relies on self-belief, but in the end it’s the belief from others that proves to be the most important,” says Safdie. “His entire life is propped on belief. Those who believe with him are along for the ride and those who are not are simply run over. Marty Supreme follows him through this Sisyphean journey to get to that place.”
Set in 1952 New York, the film follows Marty Mauser (Timothée Chalamet), a brash young hustler who works at his uncle’s shoe store while chasing his dream of becoming a table tennis champion. Marty is arrogant, trash‑talking, and endlessly scheming, convinced that ping‑pong is his life’s calling even though few take the sport seriously. His journey takes him from the Lower East Side tenements to the Ritz in London, and finally to a climactic match in Tokyo against Japanese champion Koto Endo. Along the way, Marty entangles himself with wealthy patrons, criminal figures, and complicated romances, including affairs with Rachel Mizler (Odessa A’zion) and retired actress Kay Stone (Gwyneth Paltrow).
Safdie got hooked on table tennis at a young age, battling against his father and hearing his uncle’s stories about the great misfits of 20th-century New York who gravitated to the game. One afternoon, his wife was sifting through a dollar bin of books at a thrift store when she found a book written by a New York Jewish table tennis prodigy named Marty Reisman. Safdie, busy at the time finishing Uncut Gems, didn’t read it right away— but when he finally did it revealed a world much stranger and more exciting than he’d ever imagined. Soon, he was pressing his uncle for stories about Lawrence’s Table Tennis Club, the legendary hub of New York City’s ping pong scene.
He and his wife (Sara Rossein, Executive Producer and researcher) found themselves deep down the rabbit hole, consuming every story, clip, and scrap of history they could find about the sport and its forgotten characters.
In 1950s NYC, table tennis bred a subculture full of schemers, geniuses, and outcasts — it was a game played in smoky backrooms, penthouse parties, YMCAs, Ivy League dorms, and downtown tenements. It was fast, fierce, and entirely ignored by the mainstream. It was amongst these outsiders, these adult truants, that Safdie and Bronstein found a new outlet for their enduring love of flawed characters and unorthodox world-building. “The people who excelled at table tennis were often people who didn’t fit anywhere else,” says Safdie. “It wasn’t respected, so naturally it attracted weirdos, purists, obsessives. When I read that the sport was filling stadiums in the UK and throughout Europe, I realised that it was entirely plausible for a kid in 1952 to actually believe he could parlay the game into a life of fame and glory.”
A character quickly grew from the research, bursting beyond the boundaries of any real story
Someone guided by blind ambition and rife with contradictions: egotistical and lovable, scrappy and skilled, both rogue and romantic. A kid rebelling against the establishment, who, like everyone around him in the New York City of his era, is hustling to grab his piece of the prize. “We wanted to take the very idea of ambition — the confidence, the hunger, the need to prove yourself on your own terms — and build something bigger,” Safdie says. “Push it to its outer limit.”
Before a single word of dialogue was written, Josh reached out to Timothée, whom he had met and connected with at a party for Good Time in 2017 — just a few months before Call Me By Your Name was released and the young actor’s trajectory was set in motion. Over the years, they stayed in constant touch and developed a friendship rooted in their shared experience as wide-eyed kids from New York City dreaming of making films: “I knew that he was strapped onto a lightning-bolt dead set on becoming the greatest…but I also knew he could choke on a hot dog laughing at the dumbest practical joke. There was a unique brand of seriousness to Timmy that felt perfectly aligned with the wide-eyed blunt dreamer that we had started to create.”
“Josh is the kind of director whose door I’ve been knocking on for seven years now,” says Chalamet. “With him, you can’t overplan it. His movies are really off the cuff. Usually a movie of this size is preplanned, but Josh’s strategy is more preplanning everything until it’s chaos.”
In building the Marty Mauser character, Safdie and Bronstein weren’t interested in myth making. They were after something more honest: what it actually looks like to chase a dream no one else shares. The cost of belief. The risks no one sees. The humiliations endured. The personal cost of failure when one’s entire identity is fused with a pursuit.
“To pursue a dream that society doesn’t respect — doesn’t even pretend to understand — requires a very extreme form of conviction,” says Bronstein. “The ego must evolve into a kind of exoskeleton, to protect itself from being crushed by the weight of collective indifference.”
Safdie and Bronstein were drawn to the idea of using Marty as a vehicle to explore a deeply American ideal: the lone, driven individual pushing forward in the face of history — in this case, the aftermath of the Second World War. Through international competition and his travels abroad, Marty comes face to face with Koto Endo, a Japanese player and would-be national hero (portrayed by Koto Kawaguchi, real-life winner of the Japanese National Deaf Table Tennis Championships). Endo becomes Marty’s near-spiritual rival, and Marty Supreme becomes, in part, a story about the complex interplay between American triumphalism and rugged individualism and Japan’s postwar quest for self-determined survival and renewal.
“The American Dream is such a powerful story, and after the war, dreaming big became an international sensation along side this new idea that individuals make history and play a crucial role in shaping and reshaping the world,” says Safdie. “Marty represents the confidence, cockiness, and ambition that America expressed in the postwar years.”
But the road to Marty’s dreams — like the country he comes from — is paved with self-delusion, and the journey that unfolds is funny, messy, and unpredictable. Marty is a lightning rod of energy, and the movie hums to his rhythm. For all of his chaos, he’s a charmer; you can’t help but root for him and his relentless determination to succeed.
Josh Safdie – Director/Writer/Producer/Editor
Josh Safdie is a filmmaker whose credits include Uncut Gems, Good Time, Heaven Knows What, and Daddy Longlegs. Safdie recently reunited with Sandler for the Netflix comedy special Adam Sandler: Love You.
Ronald Bronstein – Writer/Producer/Editor
Ronald Bronstein is a director, screenwriter, editor and producing partner at Central Pictures. His debut feature, Frownland, antagonised audiences on both sides of the Atlantic, earning a place in the permanent collection of the Museum of Modern Art and the Criterion Collection. After playing the lead role in the Safdie’s debut Daddy Longlegs, he’s gone on to co-write and co-edit all of their features, including Good Time and Uncut Gems.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on A New Page for Writers: Renewal, Intention, and Creative Fire
The cleanest way for a writer to begin the New Year is not with resolutions but with a quiet recalibration of intention.
Start by taking a creative audit: notice which projects still hum with life, which ideas have cooled, and which themes keep circling back to you. This clears the mental clutter and lets you choose your direction with honesty rather than obligation.
Set Clear Goals: Define what you want to achieve this year. Whether it’s completing a novel, improving your craft, or getting published, having clear, attainable goals will keep you focused and motivated. Clear and attainable goals are like a roadmap that guides you toward your desired destination. They provide direction, help prioritize tasks, and give you a sense of accomplishment as you achieve them. Plus, they keep you motivated by breaking down the journey into manageable steps, making it easier to track progress and stay on course.
Set aside dedicated time each day for writing. Even if it’s just 30 minutes, consistency is key.
Complete at least one major writing project this year.
Create a Writing Routine: Establish a regular writing schedule that fits your lifestyle. Consistency is key, even if it’s just a few minutes each day. This routine will help build your writing habit and keep you progressing steadily.
Find Your Inspiration: Seek out sources of inspiration that resonate with you, whether it’s reading books, watching movies, exploring nature, or engaging with art. Surround yourself with creativity to fuel your own.
Challenge Yourself: Step out of your comfort zone and experiment with different genres, styles, and formats. Embrace new writing challenges to grow as a writer and discover new facets of your creativity.
Join a Writing Community: Connect with fellow writers through writing groups, workshops, or online forums. Sharing your journey, receiving feedback, and offering support can be incredibly motivating and enriching.
Prioritize Self-Care: Writing can be mentally and emotionally demanding, so it’s essential to take care of yourself. Make time for relaxation, exercise, and activities that rejuvenate your mind and body.
Celebrate Small Wins: Acknowledge and celebrate your achievements, no matter how small. Each step forward is progress, and recognizing these milestones will keep your spirits high.
Learn Continuously: Invest in your growth as a writer by taking courses, reading craft books, and seeking feedback. Stay curious and open to learning new techniques and insights.
Write with Passion: Let your love for storytelling drive you. Write about topics that excite and move you, and your passion will shine through in your work, captivating your readers.
Stay Persistent: The writing journey is filled with ups and downs, but perseverance is key. Keep writing, even when faced with challenges or setbacks, and remember that every word you write brings you closer to your goals.
Unlock Your Writing Potential with The Write Journey
From sparking your creativity to penning the first captivating pages of your story, The Write Journey is designed to fuel your passion and sharpen your craft. Whether you’re a budding writer or an experienced wordsmith, join us on this transformative journey and watch your ideas come to life on the page.
2025 has been a rewarding year for film buffs, illuminating the human condition and revealing how cinema can transform the way we see the world. Read more
Discover the must-see movies of the year with The Edit Booth’s Top 20 Films released in South African cinemas during 2025!
If you’ve ever dreamed of writing a screenplay you know could outshine some of the films you’ve seen, our The Write Journey course will guide you from concept to your first pages.
FILMS RELEASED IN 2025
Listed Alphabetically. Click on title for more information about the film
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Imprisoned by Rules and Rigid Regulations
In a world flooded with videos, podcasts, and AI programs prescribing how to write your story, it’s no wonder so many aspiring writers struggle to finish the one that lives inside them.
You must turn a blind eye to these impostors and reclaim your voice as a writer. That voice can only emerge once you understand how to write a story.
In my course, The Write Journey, which I created in 1998, the foundation is rooted in the principles of writing your own story. Only when you fully understand how a story works—from the first spark of inspiration to the writing of your opening pages—can you begin to think about drafting your first manuscript.
Your writing will be at its strongest when it’s driven by raw emotion—by the personal experiences that shaped your life and reveal your truest self.
Before crafting your masterwork, start by understanding your identity as a writer. Begin with the fundamentals of storytelling and how inspiration shapes creativity. Then, take a deeper, reflective journey to uncover your personal strengths and challenges as a writer.
Now find your home in the creative universe by exploring the mediums you’re capable of writing for and identifying which will best showcase your story.
Remember that writing begins not with words, but with discovery. Before your pen touches the page, you must understand the heart of your story. A writer lives in pursuit—fuelled by inspiration, ignited by passion, and sharpened by curiosity. Research transforms raw talent into revelation, unearthing insights that elevate your narrative and open unexpected doors.
Break open your idea and examine its core. Choose your genre, shape your story’s identity, and map out its world—because setting is never just scenery. It’s an ecosystem that shapes plot, influences character, and breathes emotional truth into every scene.
Explore what pulse drives your plot? The thematic purpose of your story. Beneath the surface lies a thematic thread—the quiet truth that gives your story purpose. Writing is not just construction; it’s excavation. A journey inward, to uncover what your story means and why it matters.
Plant a seed — a strong premise and concept that anchors your story and sells its soul. The premise spotlights the central conflict, while the concept or logline captures motion: a character, in a place, doing something, and wanting something. It’s the heartbeat of your pitch. And don’t forget the title—it’s your story’s first impression and its silent promise.
You are now ready to step into the lives that shape your story. From heroes and anti-heroes to villains and functional allies—identify who they are, what they do, and why they matter. Explore the essence that makes each character unique: their function, their visual presence, and their voice. Craft biographies that illuminate, dialogue that resonates, and research that roots them in truth.
Now it’s time to shape the bones beneath your story. Explore how structure gives form to emotion—how characters move through turning points, how plot and subplots echo each other. Examine the architecture of scenes and transitions, and uncover the structural signposts that guide your narrative from spark to resolution.
Break the story open and examine its heartbeat. Deconstruct the narrative into events, actions, and turning points that shape your protagonist’s journey. Each moment builds character and deepens the theme. Craft story and scene outlines that dramatise the external pulse and the internal rhythm—where action meets emotional truth.
Once you’ve outlined your story, you’re ready to start writing the first draft of your story. Before you dive into writing, it’s crucial to understand the importance of properly formatting your draft.
You’ve shaped your world, your characters, and your structure. Now, begin.
Write your first draft with purpose, knowing it’s the beginning, not the end. Trust that the story knows the way forward.
As you complete your first draft, you become the proud guardian of your creation—words, images, characters, and dialogue that pulse with your vision. Now, you can confidently take ownership of your writing. Learn how to protect your intellectual property, craft a professional top sheet, and position your novel or screenplay for the market.
If you follow these steps to write your first draft—or to revise an existing one—you won’t get lost in a maze of confusion. Instead, you’ll be able to embrace your writing journey from inspiration to final draft.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Reconciliation in Writing Your Story
To write your story is to enter into dialogue with yourself, with your past, and with the world that has shaped you. It is not merely an act of recording events or arranging memories in sequence; it is a ritual of reconciliation. Each word becomes a bridge between what has been and what might yet be, between silence and expression, between rupture and renewal.
Reconciliation reminds us that healing is not only a national project but also a deeply personal one. To reconcile with history is to reconcile with the fragments of our own lives, and writing offers us a path to do so.
Reconciliation in writing begins with acknowledgement
Before we can transform pain into meaning, we must first name it. The act of writing invites us to confront the shadows we often avoid—the disappointments, the betrayals, the losses that linger in memory.
Yet acknowledgement is not the same as dwelling. It is a way of saying: this happened, it mattered, and I carry it. By placing these truths on the page, we begin to loosen their grip. Writing becomes a vessel through which we honour the weight of experience without allowing it to define us entirely.
But reconciliation is not only about facing wounds; it is also about recognising joy, resilience, and the moments of grace that punctuate our stories.
Too often, narratives of struggle overshadow the quiet triumphs—the laughter shared in difficult times, the friendships that sustained us, the small victories that reminded us of our strength. Writing allows us to weave these threads together, creating a tapestry that reflects the fullness of our humanity. In doing so, we reconcile not only with the pain but also with the beauty that coexists alongside it.
The process of writing your story is also a negotiation between memory and imagination
Memory offers fragments—images, sensations, half-remembered conversations—while imagination stitches them into coherence.
Reconciliation lies in accepting that our stories will never be perfect replicas of the past. They are interpretations, shaped by perspective and time. To reconcile with this truth is to embrace the creative act of storytelling itself: the recognition that we are not passive recorders of history but active shapers of meaning.
Writing becomes less about accuracy and more about authenticity, less about chronology and more about resonance.
In communal contexts, reconciliation through writing takes on another dimension. When we share our stories, we invite others into our journey. This act of vulnerability can foster empathy, understanding, and connection.
In South Africa, where histories of division and struggle remain vivid, storytelling has often served as a bridge across difference. To write your story and offer it to others is to say: here is my truth, may it meet yours. In this exchange, reconciliation becomes collective—a weaving together of voices that affirms our shared humanity.
Reconciliation in writing is not always easy
It demands patience, courage, and a willingness to sit with discomfort. There may be chapters we resist revisiting, truths we fear exposing, or emotions we struggle to articulate. But writing teaches us that reconciliation is not a single moment of closure; it is an ongoing practice.
Each draft, each revision, each return to the page is another step in the journey. The story evolves as we evolve, and reconciliation deepens with time.
Reconciliation in writing does not mean erasure
To reconcile is not to forget or to diminish the significance of what has happened. It is to integrate the past into a larger narrative, one that allows us to move forward without being bound by bitterness. Writing helps us achieve this integration by giving shape to experiences that might otherwise remain chaotic or overwhelming. Through language, we transform fragments into form, silence into speech, absence into presence.
There is also a spiritual dimension to reconciliation in writing
To write is to listen—to the inner voice, to the echoes of ancestors, to the rhythms of the land and community. In this listening, we discover that our stories are never entirely our own. They are interwoven with those who came before us and those who walk beside us. Reconciliation, then, is not only personal but ancestral and communal. Writing becomes a way of honouring these connections, of situating our individual journeys within the broader fabric of history and culture.
For those who feel estranged from their own stories—perhaps due to trauma, displacement, or silence—writing can be a reclamation
It allows us to take ownership of narratives that may have been distorted or suppressed. In reclaiming our voice, we reconcile with the power that was once denied to us. This act of reclamation is profoundly liberating, for it reminds us that while we cannot change the past, we can shape the meaning it holds in our lives.
Reconciliation in writing also requires compassion—for ourselves and for others
As we revisit our stories, we may encounter moments where we acted out of fear, ignorance, or hurt.
Writing invites us to hold these moments with gentleness, to recognize our imperfections without judgment. Similarly, when we write about others, reconciliation calls us to move beyond caricature or blame, toward a more nuanced understanding of their humanity. Compassion does not excuse harm, but it allows us to see beyond it, to imagine the possibility of healing.
Ultimately, reconciliation in writing your story is about transformation
It is about turning absence into presence, pain into meaning, silence into voice. It is about recognizing that our stories are not static but living, capable of growth and renewal. Each time we write, we participate in this transformation, shaping narratives that honor the past while opening space for the future.
On the Day of Reconciliation, we are reminded that healing is both a national and personal endeavour. Just as nations must confront their histories to move forward, so too must individuals.
Writing offers us a way to do this—to reconcile with ourselves, with others, and with the world around us. It is a practice of courage, compassion, and creativity, one that affirms our capacity to heal and to hope.
So, as you sit with your story, remember that reconciliation is not about perfection or closure. It is about presence, authenticity, and the willingness to keep writing even when the words feel heavy. It is about honoring the fullness of your journey—the pain and the joy, the rupture and the renewal.
In writing your story, you are not only reconciling with your past; you are shaping the future, one word at a time.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Glass Onion: A Knives Out Mystery
Glass Onion: A Knives Out Mystery was written and directed by Rian Johnson, inspired by Agatha Christie’s tradition of socially engaged whodunits, and its significance lies in how it revitalises the mystery genre for contemporary audiences while interrogating wealth, power, and cultural vanity.
Rian Johnson’s Glass Onion: A Knives Out Mystery (2022) is a film that both honors and reinvents the classic whodunit form. Written and directed by Johnson, the movie serves as a standalone sequel to his 2019 hit Knives Out, once again featuring Daniel Craig as the eccentric detective Benoit Blanc. Johnson’s creative vision for Glass Onion was deeply shaped by his lifelong fascination with Agatha Christie, whose novels were a fixture in his childhood home. Christie’s mysteries were not merely puzzles; they were reflections of her time, infused with humor, social critique, and cultural observation.
Johnson sought to emulate this approach, crafting a mystery that would speak to the anxieties and absurdities of the 2020s while still delivering the pleasures of a tightly constructed puzzle.
In Glass Onion, he situates the narrative within the world of tech billionaires, influencers, and political opportunists, creating a satirical microcosm of contemporary society. The film’s title itself—drawn from the Beatles’ song “Glass Onion”—suggests layers of meaning and deception, a metaphor for both the mystery at hand and the cultural façades Johnson aims to peel back.
The film follows Benoit Blanc as he investigates a murder among a group of wealthy elites invited to the private island of Miles Bron, a tech mogul played by Edward Norton. The ensemble cast includes Janelle Monáe, Kathryn Hahn, Leslie Odom Jr., Jessica Henwick, Madelyn Cline, Kate Hudson, and Dave Bautista, each embodying archetypes of modern privilege and ambition. Johnson’s screenplay ensures that every character is more than a caricature; they are fully realised individuals whose flaws and desires drive the narrative. This ensemble structure is central to Johnson’s vision of the whodunit as a communal performance, where the interplay of personalities creates both tension and humour.
The film’s setting—a luxurious island mansion called the Glass Onion—becomes a stage for satire, exposing the fragility of wealth and the emptiness of performative genius. Bron, who styles himself as a visionary, is revealed to be shallow and reckless, a critique of the cult of personality surrounding tech entrepreneurs.
Johnson’s inspiration from Christie is evident not only in the structure of the mystery but also in the film’s engagement with contemporary issues
Christie wrote mysteries that reflected her own time, and Johnson follows suit by embedding Glass Onion in the cultural moment of the pandemic era, the rise of influencer culture, and the unchecked power of billionaires. The film’s humour and absurdity are not escapist but pointed, inviting audiences to laugh at the ridiculousness of modern elites while recognising the dangers of their influence. In this way, Glass Onion becomes more than entertainment; it is a mirror held up to society, exposing the contradictions of privilege and the fragility of truth in an age of spectacle.
The significance of Glass Onion lies in its ability to revitalise the mystery genre while making it relevant to contemporary audiences
Johnson’s work demonstrates that the whodunit is not a relic of the past but a flexible form capable of addressing modern anxieties. By situating the mystery within the world of tech billionaires and influencers, Johnson critiques the superficiality of wealth and the dangers of unchecked ambition. The film’s layered narrative, symbolized by the Glass Onion itself, reflects the complexity of truth in a world dominated by image and illusion.
Moreover, Johnson’s decision to craft Benoit Blanc as a detective who is both eccentric and deeply humane underscores the importance of integrity and clarity in a time of confusion. Daniel Craig’s performance, with its light Southern drawl and understated quirks, brings Blanc to life as a character who cuts through deception with wit and empathy.
The film also holds significance in the broader cinematic landscape
Netflix’s acquisition of the rights to two Knives Out sequels for $469 million marked a major moment in the streaming era, signalling the value of original storytelling in a market dominated by franchises. Glass Onion premiered at the Toronto International Film Festival in September 2022, followed by a limited theatrical release that grossed $15 million before streaming on Netflix. Its critical acclaim, including a nomination for Best Adapted Screenplay at the 95th Academy Awards, affirmed Johnson’s success in balancing entertainment with cultural critique. The film’s recognition by the National Board of Review as one of the top ten films of 2022 further underscores its impact.
It treats storytelling as a layered act of meaning-making
The metaphor of the onion—something transparent yet concealing layers—captures Johnson’s philosophy of narrative. Mysteries are not simply puzzles to be solved; they are opportunities to peel back the layers of human behaviour, exposing vanity, ambition, and vulnerability. In this sense, Glass Onion is both a continuation of Christie’s legacy and a distinctly modern work, one that uses satire and spectacle to interrogate the myths of genius and the illusions of wealth. Its significance lies in its ability to entertain while provoking reflection, reminding audiences that beneath the glittering surface of culture lies a fragile core of truth.
It’s a film that exemplifies Rian Johnson’s mastery of the whodunit form.
By combining humour, satire, and suspense, Johnson has created a work that is both entertaining and culturally resonant, a film that peels back the layers of illusion to reveal the fragile humanity beneath. In doing so, Glass Onion affirms the enduring power of the mystery genre to engage with the present moment, offering audiences not only the pleasure of a puzzle but also the insight of a mirror held up to society.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Wake Up Dead Man: A Knives Out Mystery
In Knives Out and Glass Onion: A Knives Out Mystery, Rian Johnson wrote mysteries so complicated that only Benoit Blanc could solve them. Johnson’s latest chapter, Wake Up Dead Man: A Knives Out Mystery, gives Blanc a run for his money, presenting him with his most layered and unexpected case to date. “This was the hardest script I have ever had to write,” says the twice Oscar–nominated filmmaker.
The storylines and characters may differ, but each Benoit Blanc mystery delivers incisive social critiques through the lens of intrigue and humour, and Wake Up Dead Man follows in this tradition, turning the lens inward to explore the nature of belief.
“I thought a good way to bring the story down to earth would be to dig into something very personal,” says Johnson. “I told Daniel, ‘I want to make a movie about faith. I want to make a movie about the church.’ The world of faith and all the questions raised by a good murder mystery go together well. It seemed scary, so we dove in.”
“Whodunits are often set in creepy old houses or churches, so there’s plenty of material to mine for Wake Up Dead Man.,” says Daniel Craig. “That’s what we were doing with this: trying to get a different pace, feel, and interaction with a new cast. For me, as the regular character, the joy of it has been: ‘Who are we getting in to play this?’ These are audience-centric movies. They’re for people to watch, enjoy, share, and try to guess who the murderer is. But there’s also a deep message about humanity buried in there because that’s the way Rian writes. There’s always something to decipher at the end of these movies that’s not just about the case.”
Wake Up Dead Man is Johnson’s take on the locked-room mystery, a subsection of the genre mastered by author John Dickson Carr, known for novels like The Hollow Man. “A corpse is found in a locked room, a knife in his back, and there are no ways in or out,” says Johnson. “With such a constrained premise, there are only a few real options to work with.”
Jud Duplenticy (Josh O’Connor), a boxer who became a priest, is sent to assist Monsignor Jefferson Wicks (Josh Brolin) at Our Lady of Perpetual Fortitude, a small church in upstate New York. But he soon finds the parish has soured under Wicks’s reign of fear and anger. Wicks’s devoted flock — comprised of Martha Delacroix (Glenn Close), Samson Holt (Thomas Haden Church), Vera Draven (Kerry Washington), Cy Draven (Daryl McCormack), Nat Sharp (Jeremy Renner), Lee Ross (Andrew Scott), and Simone Vivane (Cailee Spaeny) — is indeed in dire straits. After a seemingly impossible murder rocks the parish and the town, local police chief Geraldine Scott (Mila Kunis) calls in Blanc to help unravel the mystery, a case that pushes the boundaries of faith and reason. But, as Blanc describes, “This was dressed as a miracle. It’s just a murder. And I solve murders.”
This film is darker and more sincere than the previous Benoit Blanc films but no less funny.
“I don’t have a sense of faith, being a self-serious thing. I think it’s a very human thing, and that means there’s a lot of humour in it,” says Johnson.
Blanc’s approach to the mystery at the heart of the film is also vastly different from the previous two.
“He sees how important someone like Jud, a religious man, is to certain aspects of society,” Craig says of his character. “Blanc has a very complicated relationship with religion, but he’s also humble enough to know there’s something bigger happening than him at that moment.”
Just as much as the latest Benoit Blanc mystery forges its own path, Wake Up Dead Man is also a return to form for Johnson. “It’s more similar to the first Knives Out in that it gets back to the real origins of the genre, which predate Agatha Christie, going back to Edgar Allan Poe,” Johnson says. Most of the film’s drama unravels in a cavernous chapel built by Oscar-winning Rick Heinrichs. Chiaroscuro cinematography from Steve Yedlin, paired with a haunting score by Nathan Johnson, spot-on costuming from Jenny Eagan, and nimble editing by Bob Ducsay, only heightens the film’s atmospheric tone.
The rare tonal balance Wake Up Dead Man strikes is what drew many of the actors to it, and casting directors Mary Vernieu (Promising Young Woman) and Bret Howe (The Menu) helped assemble another starry group. “What made me want to do the movie was the balance between comedy and Rian’s writing, which is always uncovering something that we don’t often see in a comedy,” says O’Connor.
Just as much as the ensemble were fans of Johnson and the Benoit Blanc mysteries, they jumped at the opportunity to learn from each other. “All of us at different moments have been No. 1 on the call sheet,” Washington says.
“But we’re coming together to be part of this larger ensemble, working together as a team.” It was Blanc’s most personal case to date and it may well be Johnson’s most personal film too. “I have strong feelings about faith: both my own personal experience and how it intersects with our country’s cultural and civic life, and the ways that intersection touches all of us differently. So it felt like rich ground for a good story,” says Johnson.
“All of these movies are about having a really good time. That’s the heart of where all of these came from — my memories of watching murder mystery movies when I was a kid and thinking, ‘This is the most fun a movie can possibly be.’”
A Conversation With Writer / Director / Producer Rian Johnson
Tell us about Wake Up Dead Man. RIAN JOHNSON: Wake Up Dead Man is a Benoit Blanc murder mystery, and it starts with a young priest named Jud Duplenticy, played by Josh O’Connor. He’s being disciplined by his church elders and is sent to a tiny, middle-of-nowhere parish in upstate New York. When he gets there, he immediately butts heads with the older priest who runs the parish, Jefferson Wicks, played by Josh Brolin. The two of them battle for the souls of the parish. The whole thing gets complicated when someone is murdered, and Benoit Blanc shows up to solve the case.
How would you describe the tone and visual style of Wake Up Dead Man? JOHNSON: It’s incredibly different from Glass Onion. It’s got a much more Gothic and grounded tone. It’s still a Benoit Blanc mystery, so it’s funny and fun, but it’s set in an old stone church. There are lots of graveyards, and it’s got that earthy Gothic feel, which was really fun to play with. One of the things that’s fun for us about making these movies is that the murder mystery genre, as I experienced it growing up, is so diverse. Every time we make one of these films, it’s fun to think, “How can this one explore a whole different corner of this genre?”
Knives Out, the first movie, was a cozy, family-mansion mystery. The second, Glass Onion, was a big, broad vacation movie — like Agatha Christie’s Evil Under the Sun, or Death on the Nile. Wake Up Dead Man is closer to Knives Out, but even creepier than that. It has a locked-door element. It gets into some of the mystery elements more intricately.
You’ve said before that John Dickson Carr is one of your favorite mystery authors. He’s known as a master of a particular subset of detective fiction: the locked-room mystery. What is a locked-door mystery, and what does it entail? JOHNSON: It’s a side alley of the whodunit genre: the impossible crime. In the most literal sense, this is exactly what it sounds like. Usually, they involve some combination of ingenious contraption and manipulated timeline. It’s the mystery equivalent of a Margherita pizza — possibly the purest test of a pizza artisan’s skill in that its simplicity leaves nothing to hide behind.
What’s your process when writing a whodunit? Do you start with the solution? How do you construct the narrative? JOHNSON:With this case, I knew I wanted to do an impossible crime. I wanted to take the idea of this miraculous-looking, impossible crime, with a man of faith at the center of the story. You have to start with the only thing that’s going to keep an audience engaged: “Who are your characters? What do they want? Why can’t they get it? Why do we care?” Once you have that story, you can build around the mystery elements and accentuate the parts that need juicing. The mystery element is not something that can support an audience’s weight. You have to start with a story, and then the mystery has to serve that.
Why was the church fertile terrain for a murder mystery? JOHNSON: There’s a strong tradition of clerical mysteries. Christie’s The Murder at the Vicarage is a classic, but my biggest influence for this film was G.K. Chesterton’s Father Brown mysteries. Themes of guilt, mystery, morality, and fallible humanity all feel right at home in a church, with a man of God at the center of the mix.
Wake Up Dead Man’s structure seems to echo Knives Out. Benoit Blanc is positioned more as an outsider to the story’s emotional core. Glass Onion brought Blanc closer to the forefront, making him the narrative lens and offering glimpses into his personal life. How did you think about Blanc’s evolution across the films, and what guides your choices in how much of him to reveal? JOHNSON: My approach to Blanc is to use a really delicate touch. Once the mythology of a character starts expanding, it can suddenly become a burden on the storytelling. The character is going to be strongest if they serve the strongest purpose in each of the films. It’s more about asking, “How can we make this film something we haven’t seen in previous chapters? How can we surprise and delight audiences? What can Blanc’s role be here that we haven’t seen him do before?” I approach it that way as opposed to thinking, “Let’s learn more about Benoit Blanc.”
Knives Out drew its name from a Radiohead song, while Glass Onion took its titular inspiration from the Beatles song of the same name. Where does the title of Wake Up Dead Man spring from? JOHNSON: Wake Up Dead Man shares its title with a 1997 song by U2 from their album Pop. Pop is a very underrated album, and that song is very right for the title. But I’ve had “Wake Up Dead Man” in my head for a long while, and I first heard the phrase in American folk music.
Powerhouse ensemble casts are one of the defining features of the Benoit Blanc murder mystery movies, and Wake Up Dead Man continues that tradition with gusto. You’ve described your casting process as curating a dinner party. In turn, the alumni have found that the warm, fun, and creative on‑set atmosphere translates into dynamic chemistry onscreen. How do you foster chemistry with such a big ensemble cast time and time again? JOHNSON: On Knives Out, we shot a lot of the movie in this mansion in New England. The basement of the mansion was an old-school rec room. Instead of going back to their trailers, the cast would hang out down there and play games and tell stories. We realized this was really helping create camaraderie. So when we did Glass Onion, we always had a space set aside that was the green room. We were also trapped in a hotel together during COVID in Greece and in Belgrade, Serbia, so we had a lot of time with each other anyway. For Wake Up Dead Man, we did the same thing. We realised the experience of making these movies, and the chemistry between these incredible actors who are working as an ensemble, are the key to why we love doing them. You get great actors together, you let them hang out, and games will ensue. We’ve also been very lucky with each of these films to have assembled a first-class group of people who bond like a family on and off set, and that was especially true with this one.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Heated Rivalry: A Landmark in Queer Sports Storytelling
Heated Rivalry is a sensational Canadian sports romance series that explores the secret love story between two rival hockey stars and has become a cultural milestone for queer representation in sports media.
Created, written, and directed by Jacob Tierney, adapted from Rachel Reid’s bestselling novel of the same name, Heated Rivalry was inspired by Reid’s vision of what it would mean for an NHL player to come out and thrive, the series explores the secret love story between two rival hockey stars, Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov.
When the first season of Heated Rivalry premiered in late November 2025 on Crave in Canada and HBO Max internationally, it immediately captured the attention of audiences who had long been hungry for authentic, emotionally charged queer storytelling in mainstream television, and it has been renewed for a second season.
The series is based on Rachel Reid’s 2019 novel, the second installment in her Game Changers series, which follows different couples navigating love and identity within the hyper-masculine world of professional hockey. Reid, a lifelong Montreal Canadiens fan, began writing the series with a simple but radical question: what would it look like if an NHL player came out, not in scandal or tragedy, but in joy, fulfillment, and safety? That question became the seed for her novels, and ultimately for Heated Rivalry, which dramatizes the passionate, years-long relationship between Canadian hockey prodigy Shane Hollander and Russian superstar Ilya Rozanov.
The adaptation was shepherded by Jacob Tierney, a Canadian actor, writer, and director known for his sharp storytelling and ability to balance humour with emotional depth. Tierney not only created the series but also wrote and directed its episodes, ensuring a cohesive vision that honoured Reid’s original work while expanding its cinematic scope.
Hudson Williams – plays Shane Hollander, the disciplined Canadian hockey star and captain of the Montreal Metros. Connor Storrie – plays Ilya Rozanov, the cocky Russian captain of the Boston Raiders, Shane’s rival and secret lover.
His collaboration with Reid began in 2023, when he reached out to her with a proposal to adapt Heated Rivalry for television.
For Reid, who had just received a Parkinson’s diagnosis, the timing was transformative. She has described Tierney’s message as “exactly what I needed,” a lifeline that gave her creative work new momentum and visibility. Together, they crafted a series that remains faithful to the novel’s emotional core while embracing the visual and performative possibilities of television.
At the heart of Heated Rivalry is the tension between competition and intimacy
Shane Hollander, captain of the Montreal Metros, and Ilya Rozanov, captain of the Boston Raiders, are portrayed as fierce rivals whose on-ice battles electrify fans and dominate headlines. Yet beneath the surface of their animosity lies a secret romance that spans years, championships, and personal struggles. Their relationship is marked by secrecy, fear of exposure, and the constant push-and-pull between professional duty and personal desire.
This duality—public rivalry, private passion—creates a narrative that is both thrilling and deeply human. The series does not shy away from the realities of professional sports culture, where toughness and silence often suppress vulnerability, but it also insists on the possibility of love and authenticity within that world.
Episode Three shifts to Scott Hunter, another player navigating identity and romance. It expands the series beyond Shane and Ilya, showing how secrecy and vulnerability affect other athletes. It also highlights the risks and rewards of intimacy in a world that demands toughness.
François Arnaud – plays Scott Hunter, captain of the New York Admirals, and Robbie G.K. (Robbie Graham-Kuntz) – plays Kip Grady, a smoothie barista who falls in love with Scott Hunter.
The significance of Heated Rivalry lies not only in its storytelling but in its cultural impact
Hockey, unlike some other sports, has never had an openly gay active player in the NHL. Reid’s novels and Tierney’s adaptation confront this absence directly, imagining a world where queer athletes can exist openly and joyfully. By dramatizing Shane and Ilya’s romance, the series challenges entrenched stereotypes about masculinity, competition, and sexuality in sports. It offers representation that is rare and necessary, particularly for LGBTQ+ audiences who have long been excluded from mainstream sports narratives.
The show’s success—quickly climbing into HBO Max’s top 10 within a week of release—demonstrates the appetite for such stories and the importance of expanding the cultural imagination around love and identity in athletics.
Heated Rivalry also resonates as a story of resilience and transformation
Reid’s personal journey, writing through her diagnosis and seeing her work adapted for television, mirrors the themes of perseverance and hope embedded in the series. The characters’ struggle to balance their careers with their relationship reflects broader human questions about ambition, vulnerability, and authenticity. In this way, the series transcends its genre, becoming not just a romance but a meditation on identity and the costs of secrecy.
Its narrative arc—two men finding connection in the midst of rivalry—becomes a metaphor for reconciliation, for the possibility of harmony even within conflict.
Critically, the series has been praised for the chemistry between its leads, Hudson Williams as Shane and Connor Storrie as Ilya. Their performances capture both the intensity of athletic competition and the tenderness of forbidden love, grounding the story in emotional truth. François Arnaud and other supporting cast members add depth to the narrative, portraying teammates, family members, and rivals who shape the protagonists’ journeys. The cinematography, music, and pacing further enhance the series’ atmosphere, blending the adrenaline of hockey with the intimacy of romance.
Heated Rivalry’s significance extends into broader conversations about media and society
In an era where representation is increasingly recognised as vital, the series stands as a landmark in queer storytelling. It joins a growing canon of works that challenge heteronormative narratives in sports and romance, but its focus on hockey—a sport often associated with rigid masculinity—makes it particularly groundbreaking. By centring a gay romance in this context, the series not only entertains but also educates, inviting audiences to reconsider assumptions about athletes, fans, and the culture of competition.
Heated Rivalry is more than a television series; it is a cultural statement
Its significance lies in its ability to imagine a world where love can flourish even in the most unlikely places, where athletes can be both fierce competitors and vulnerable lovers, and where representation can reshape the narratives we tell about identity and belonging. For Reid, Tierney, and the audiences who have embraced the series, Heated Rivalry is not just a story—it is a vision of possibility, resilience, and transformation.
You can watch Heated Rivalry on HBO Max in the U.S. and Australia, and on Crave in Canada.
Rachel Reid, the pen name of Canadian author Rachelle Goguen, is best known for her Game Changers series of hockey-themed gay romance novels, which have become a touchstone for queer representation in sports fiction. Born in Halifax, Nova Scotia, Reid began writing with the intention of imagining a world where professional hockey players could come out and thrive without scandal or tragedy. Her novels, including Game Changer, Heated Rivalry, Tough Guy, Common Goal, Role Model, and The Long Game, explore themes of masculinity, secrecy, and love within the hyper-competitive world of the NHL. Reid’s work has resonated deeply with readers, not only for its emotional authenticity but also for its cultural significance in challenging the silence around LGBTQ+ athletes in hockey. In 2023, she revealed her Parkinson’s diagnosis, a moment that gave new urgency to her creative journey. Living in Bedford, Nova Scotia with her two children, Reid has continued to write, with her stories reaching a wider audience through the television adaptation of Heated Rivalry, which brought her vision to screens worldwide.
Jacob Tierney, born in Montreal, Quebec in 1979, is a Canadian actor, writer, and director whose career spans film, television, and stage. The son of teacher Terry Smiley and film producer Kevin Tierney, he began acting at a young age, appearing in Canadian television series such as Are You Afraid of the Dark? before transitioning into filmmaking. Tierney directed acclaimed features like Twist (2003), The Trotsky (2009), and Good Neighbours (2010), showcasing his ability to blend sharp wit with emotional depth. He is perhaps most widely recognized for co-creating, writing, and directing the hit series Letterkenny (2016–2023), in which he also played Pastor Glen, earning multiple Canadian Screen Awards. Openly gay, Tierney has spoken about the importance of representation in his work, a commitment that carried into his adaptation of Rachel Reid’s Heated Rivalry. As creator, writer, and director of the series, Tierney brought Reid’s vision to life with cinematic flair, expanding the cultural conversation around sports, masculinity, and queer love. His career reflects a dedication to storytelling that is both distinctly Canadian and globally resonant, making him a central figure in contemporary television and film.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Riley: A Coming‑of‑Age Reckoning
The poignant independent film Riley is a striking and heartfelt coming-of-age drama that combines autobiographical intimacy with broader cultural resonance.
Written and directed by Benjamin Howard, Riley marks his debut feature, and it is a film that feels both deeply personal and universally urgent.
Howard, who had previously worked in short-form storytelling and community-based projects, drew directly from his own experiences as a student athlete navigating the complexities of identity, discipline, and self-discovery. The result is a film that not only introduces a promising new voice in cinema but also contributes meaningfully to the evolving landscape of LGBTQ+ representation on screen.
“I wrote an early draft of the short in one night, after watching the Euphoria pilot. There was a scene in that pilot that triggered this memory I had, and it felt like it would make for a simple, effective short script. I have a tendency to explore coming-of-age stories, typically through a gay lens— after all, we’re taught to write what we know.” says Benjamin Howard
“The story was sparked from this memory, and then grew from there. I was excited to have something that felt really simple, sincere, and personal— this is definitely the most personal script I’ve penned. Since I wrote the screenplay myself, there was no need to secure any rights. And as an independent student filmmaker (the short was actually a student project for UCLA), I self-financed most of it. UCLA provides a small chunk of funding, but for the most part, I paid out-of-pocket for the piece.”
“Principal photography took place in January 2020, and the four-day shoot went by with virtually no hiccups. We had two intimacy coordinators on set, led by Amanda Blumenthal, who is an expert in her field. Without her, the shoot would have had a different dynamic. It was really nice having someone act as a liaison between me and the talent, especially when you’re asking for such intimate performances.”
The ensemble cast is notable for its authenticity and diversity, reflecting the film’s commitment to portraying adolescence in all its complexity. Each actor contributes to the layered narrative, ensuring that Dakota’s journey is not isolated but situated within a web of relationships—family, friends, teammates, and mentors. This collective performance elevates Riley beyond a personal story into a broader commentary on identity, conformity, and liberation.
The cast of Riley (2025) brings Benjamin Howard’s semi-autobiographical vision to life with a mix of emerging talent and seasoned performers, each contributing to the film’s emotional depth. At the centre is Jake Holley, who plays Dakota Riley, the disciplined high school athlete whose carefully ordered world begins to unravel as he confronts his queer identity. Holley’s performance is layered with vulnerability and restraint, capturing both the outward toughness expected of an athlete and the inner turmoil of a young man grappling with authenticity. Opposite him, Colin McCalla portrays Jaeden Galloway, a confidant whose presence underscores the importance of friendship and support in navigating adolescence. Riley Quinn Scott adds a striking counterpoint as Skylar Braxton, embodying a more liberated queer identity that challenges Dakota’s repression and highlights the film’s central theme of authenticity. Connor Storrie’s role is pivotal. He plays Liam Hauser, a character whose presence and relationship with Riley force the protagonist to confront and question his own sexuality, becoming a catalyst for Riley’s internal struggle and eventual self-discovery.
Writer-director Benjamin Howard with Jake Holley as Dakota Riley
At its core, Riley tells the story of a disciplined high school athlete whose carefully constructed life begins to unravel as he confronts the realities of his queer identity
The protagonist’s journey is one of tension between external expectations and internal truth, a narrative that resonates with anyone who has ever felt the weight of conformity pressing against authenticity. Howard’s decision to root the film in the world of athletics is particularly significant: sports have long been coded as spaces of hyper-masculinity and rigid discipline, and by placing a queer character at the center of this environment, Riley challenges entrenched stereotypes and opens up new possibilities for representation. The film’s drama unfolds not in grand gestures but in the quiet, painful moments of self-reckoning, making its emotional impact all the more profound.
The inspiration behind Riley is inseparable from Howard’s own biography
As a student athlete himself, he experienced firsthand the pressures of performance, the demands of discipline, and the silences imposed on identity. His decision to translate these experiences into a narrative film reflects both a personal need for expression and a broader commitment to storytelling as activism. Howard has spoken about the importance of creating art that not only entertains but also affirms marginalized voices, and Riley embodies this philosophy. The film was crowdfunded through Seed&Spark, a platform that supports independent filmmakers, and its grassroots origins underscore the passion and urgency behind the project. Shot in East County, San Diego in April 2022, the film carries with it the textures of Howard’s own geography, grounding its universal themes in a specific, lived environment.
Writer-director Benjamin Howard with Jake Holley as Dakota Riley and Connor Storrie as Liam Hauser,
The journey of Riley from production to release is itself a testament to the resilience of independent cinema
The film premiered at the Calgary International Film Festival in September 2023, where it immediately drew attention for its authenticity and emotional power. It went on to screen at several festivals, including the prestigious BFI Flare: London LGBTIQ+ Film Festival in 2024, further cementing its place within the global queer film community. By the time of its official VOD release in January 2025, distributed by Dark Star Pictures, Riley had already built a reputation as a film that mattered—not just for its artistry but for its courage in telling a story that mainstream cinema too often neglects.
Critical reception of Riley highlighted both its narrative strength and its cultural significance. Reviews reflected a consensus that Howard’s film is not only technically accomplished but also emotionally resonant, a rare combination in a debut feature. Audiences responded to its honesty, its refusal to sensationalise, and its commitment to portraying queer adolescence with dignity and depth.
The significance of Riley
It represents a milestone in LGBTQ+ storytelling, particularly within the context of sports. By centring on a queer athlete, the film disrupts traditional narratives that often exclude or marginalize queer identities in athletic spaces. It offers a counter-narrative that affirms the complexity of queer experience, challenging stereotypes and opening up new possibilities for representation.
It underscores the importance of independent cinema as a space for marginalized voices. Howard’s ability to bring his story to life through crowdfunding and grassroots support demonstrates the power of community in sustaining art that might otherwise struggle to find a platform.
Riley contributes to broader cultural conversations about adolescence, conformity, and liberation. Its protagonist’s journey is not only about sexuality but about the universal struggle to reconcile external expectations with internal truth, making the film resonate across diverse audiences.
Riley is significant for its formal qualities. Howard’s direction is marked by restraint and sensitivity, allowing the film’s emotional weight to emerge organically rather than through melodrama. His use of visual storytelling—lingering shots of athletic discipline, quiet moments of solitude, the juxtaposition of public performance and private vulnerability—creates a cinematic language that mirrors the protagonist’s inner conflict.
The film’s pacing, which gradually escalates from subtle tension to profound revelation, reflects Howard’s understanding of drama as a process of accumulation rather than explosion. In this sense, Riley is not only a powerful story but also a demonstration of Howard’s skill as a filmmaker.
The cultural impact of Riley extends beyond its immediate reception
For queer audiences, particularly young people navigating identity in hostile environments, the film offers representation that is both affirming and complex. It does not reduce its protagonist to a symbol but portrays him as a fully realised individual, with contradictions, fears, and desires. For broader audiences, the film serves as a reminder of the universality of adolescence, the pain of repression, and the courage required to embrace authenticity. In this way, Riley bridges the gap between specificity and universality, making its story both deeply personal and widely relatable.
Riley stands as a landmark debut, a film that announced Benjamin Howard as a filmmaker to watch and contributed meaningfully to the evolving landscape of queer cinema
Its significance lies not only in its content but in its context: a film born of personal experience, sustained by community support, and celebrated by international audiences. It is a film that insists on the importance of telling stories that matter, stories that challenge, affirm, and inspire.
For Howard, Riley is both a personal exorcism and a public offering, a work that transforms private struggle into communal resonance. For audiences, it is a reminder of the power of cinema to illuminate, to affirm, and to provoke.
Ultimately, Riley is more than a film—it is a cultural intervention. It’s significant for its authentic representation of queer adolescence, stands as a testament to the power of independent cinema.
Its journey from crowdfunding to festival acclaim to international release reflects the resilience of art that insists on being heard. Its story, rooted in personal truth and expanded into universal resonance, affirms the importance of authenticity in a world that too often demands conformity.
In its honesty, its artistry, and its courage, Riley reminds us that cinema at its best is not merely entertainment but a ritual of meaning, a space where personal truth becomes communal significance.
Benjamin Howard is an award-winning writer, director and producer. A recipient of the New Filmmaker Award at the 2018 San Diego Film Awards, Benjamin’s narrative projects have enjoyed several successful runs in the festival circuit. His work in the San Diego State University program earned him an award for Excellence in Film Directing during the spring of his senior year. In the future, he hopes to start a production company that provides filmmakers with developmental disabilities opportunities in the film industry. Beyond directing, Howard has worked as a producer, editor, and assistant director on numerous projects, including We All Die Alone (2021). His filmography reflects a steady progression from shorts like Toast (2015), Disconnect (2016), and Adolescence (2017) to more mature explorations of identity and mortality in Snakeskin (2019) and Immersion (2020). Today, Benjamin Howard continues to develop new projects, including Adjunct (2024), while building Windsor Film Company as a platform for bold, character-driven stories. His trajectory reflects a filmmaker deeply committed to blending personal narrative with communal resonance, positioning him as one of the most promising voices in contemporary independent film.
Riley is available to watch across several major streaming platforms. Viewers can rent or purchase the film on Prime Video, Apple TV, Google Play, YouTube, and Fandango at Home (Vudu), making it widely accessible for on-demand viewing. For those seeking a subscription option, Riley is also included on Here TV, which can be accessed directly or through Amazon Channels, offering a monthly plan with a free trial period.
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Clint Bentley’s adaptation of Denis Johnson’s beloved novella Train Dreams is the moving portrait of Robert Grainier, a logger and railroad worker who leads a life of unexpected depth and beauty in the rapidly changing America of the early 20th century. Joel Edgerton delivers a powerful performance as a man whose life unfolds during an era of unprecedented change in early 20th-century America. Orphaned at a young age, Robert grows into adulthood among the towering forests of the Pacific Northwest, where he helps expand the nation’s railroad empire alongside men as unforgettable as the landscapes they inhabit. Read more
Plainclothes dramatises the life of Lucas, an undercover officer in the 1990s tasked with entrapping gay men, only to confront his own repressed desires. Its significance lies in exposing historical injustices against the LGBTQ+ community while exploring themes of morality, self‑acceptance, and the perilous divide between duty and truth. By situating personal conflict within systemic persecution, the film becomes both a social reckoning and a deeply human story of transformation. Read more / See Riley / Twinless / I Wish You All the Best
The Waterfront dramatises how a powerful family in coastal North Carolina descends into drug smuggling to preserve its empire, exposing themes of corruption, survival, and fractured loyalty. It stands out as a Netflix original that blends crime thriller intensity with family saga, positioning itself as both a cautionary tale and a gripping exploration of moral collapse. Read more
Dept Q is a gripping, character-driven crime thriller that explores trauma, justice, and redemption through cold-case investigations. Its significance lies in its layered storytelling, emotionally scarred protagonists, and its bold reimagining of a beloved Danish book series for a British audience. Read more
Boots reframes the military coming‑of‑age story through the lens of queer identity, friendship, and survival in a hostile institution. By adapting Greg Cope White’s memoir The Pink Marine into a 1990s setting just before “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell,” the series highlights the tension between personal truth and systemic exclusion, making it both a sharp comedy‑drama and a cultural reckoning. Read more / ALSO SEE: Invisible Boys
Monster: The Ed Gein Story confronts the unsettling legacy of one of America’s most infamous criminals, not to sensationalise, but to explore the cultural fascination with horror and the thin line between myth and reality. Read more
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on 14 ways to dramatically improve your story
It is your calling as a writer to write stories, to constantly search for new ideas, to search for ‘the one idea’ that will change the world.
Your life as a writer is informed and fueled by inspiration and driven by passion.
You will have many ideas that you want to develop into a story, and each idea will have its own challenges, beginning as a seed that is planted in the soil, gradually growing into a story, day by day.
An idea is not something you can rush, predict or control; it has its own temperament and knows what it wants to be.
It
is equally unpredictable and strikes the writer like a thunderbolt. One day you
are searching for an idea, pondering what to write, the following day you are
suddenly in its grasp, and for many years you will its obedient slave.
There
are times you will feel that your idea is a hopeless case, and times where you
don’t have enough hours in the day to shape it into a story you are destined to
tell.
Your
idea will ignite a burning fire that will rage on until its flames are seen from
the moon.
One day there will be nothing, then suddenly EVERYTHING.
Arts is Choice. Choice making is at the heart of all creative expressions, and The Write Journey will make the most of the story you are destined to write.
Make the most of your IDEA
Significant issues
In the 20th Century four major issues have governed screenwriting and screenplays: The Notion of God – religious and spiritual issues; Democracy – freedom; Male/ Female relationships and Issues of identity in terms of class, culture and sexuality. Does your idea deal with these issues?
Theme
Most stories that are dramatically successful, have resonance, and are universally relevant, express some underlying idea that has universal appeal for audiences and readers, who can identify with the characters and situations. What is the Thematic Purpose of your story? What are you trying to say by writing your story? What is the glue that will bind your story?
Art is a microscope which the artist fixes on the secrets of his soul and shows to people these secrets which are common to all. Leo Tolstoy
Does your story promise Drama?
You know our story has dramatic potential if you can draw your audience/ readers into a deep involvement so that they will care about the story and the characters, suspend disbelief, and be involved in whatever is happening; if you can hold that involvement, your audience/ readers will be captivated and intrigued from the opening scene to the ending, and experience a rollercoaster ride, eagerly awaiting what happens next; and if your audience/ readers will experience a great rush of excitement and emotional fulfillment and when they reach the end of your story. They will take the story and characters home with them, and it will live in their hearts for eternity.
Something worth writing
Even if screenplays / novels / TV Pilot seem commercial, write something of worth, something you want to write, you can see, and something you are capable of writing.
You cannot write a screenplay if you don’t live the art of storytelling – full stop!! Your passion must last to the end – to the last word – the last note. Your passion must be total. Your passion must never say “Sorry”! Your passion must burn in your eyes. The fever of passion must rack your body with such intensity that it can pulverize any rock of doubt you encounter into the dust of eternity! You must have a total Hunger!!! A physical and mental hunger. Your soul must be racked with hunger. Your body must cry out for food. Then you create! Then you soar into the sky. Then you touch the magic. Then your soul explodes… Then your words flow like vintage wine staining damask cloth into a dark purple of greatness…
Jans Rautenbach, Abraham (2015)
Something in Mind
Don’t select dull ideas whose inner conflicts are not easily dramatised, verbalised and vsualised.
Story urges the creation of works that will excite audiences on the six continents and live in revival for decades. No one needs yet another recipe book on how to reheat Hollywood leftovers. We need a rediscovery of the underlying tenets of our art, the guiding principles that liberate talent.
Robert McKee, Story
Your idea must promise conflict
Conflict is the heart and soul of writing. It’s the reason we engage with stories. As human beings we tell stories to make sense of the world, to find order in chaos, to process the experience. Without conflict there is no story, simply an account of events. The success of your idea depends on the conflict, there is something at stake that the audience can care about and identify with. This can range from something as huge as the survival of the species to something as personal as being understood. Does the conflict in your story offer enough dramatic potential?
The Write Journeyexplores the golden rules of conflict, six types of conflict that will strengthen your story, and common problems of too much conflict in your story.
Will your idea travel the distance?
A potent idea will carry a complete 100 – 110-page screenplay, several chapters, or 900 minutes of intrigue for a TV series; have a gripping set-up that promises lots of complications and ways to spin the audience / readers into different emotions during the confrontation, and ultimately resolve itself in a climactic pay-off, a meaningful and resonating conclusion.
One of the gifts of being a writer is that it gives you an excuse to do things, to go places and explore. Another is that writing motivates you to look closely at life, at life as it lurches by and tramps around… To be a good writer, you not only have to write a great deal but you have to care. You do not have to have a complicated moral philosophy. But a writer always tries, I think, to be a part of the solution, to understand a little about life and to pass this on.
Anne Lamott, Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life
Does your idea promise sensuality and dramatic action?
In his Screenwriting 434, Lew Hunter says that a painter has three primary colours on his palette: red, blue and yellow. As a writer you have two primary emotional colours: sex and violence. This does not mean the horror-slasher genre. In story terms, the words sex and violence means sensuality and dramatic action, not blood and gore and naked bodies. Look at the plot lines of such classics as Medea, Oedipus Rex, Hamlet, King Lear, and works by Ibsen, anything by Tennessee Williams, and Shakespeare. The most extreme form of violence is psychological violence. Even in The Sound of Music: the Nazi’s were the overall threat and the feelings between Maria and the children’s father were sensual.
Is your idea interesting enough?
Will the story be interesting for an hour and a half to two hours? A page-turner? Is it the type of the story the public will pay to see? Will it be interesting two years from today when the film will go into production?
How original is your idea?
A story is not only what you have to say, but also how you say it. Writing urges the creation of works that will excite audiences on the six continents and live in revival for decades. The world of a great artist always strikes audiences as exotic and strange. What you are bringing to the world as a storyteller is your own, unique, individual and ‘original’ voice; a story told in your specific way, from your experience, researched from your history or seen from your perspective. Never mistake eccentricity for originality. Never be different for the sake of being different.
Can you possibly get it sold?
If you do sell it, you do. If you don’t, you’ve created another property for your inventory. Even if any of the stories you write never sell, you must love the process. That should be more important to you than acceptance or sale. Make your principal reward the very act of writing.
The tricky thing about being a writer, or about being any kind of artist, is that in addition to making art you also have to make a living. My short stories and novels have always filled my life with meaning, but at least in the first decade of my career, they were no more capable of supporting me than my dog was. However, part of what I love about both novels and dogs is that they are so beautifully oblivious to economic concerns. We serve them, and in return, they thrive. It is not their responsibility to figure out where the rent is coming from.
Novelist Ann Patchett
Is it a story that is good for you to write?
Focus on the best development of your potential. Will your idea serve the necessary end? As a writer you must ask yourself if the idea will significantly help you develop your potential? Can you best learn from this idea? Will it show people what a good writer you are? A “calling card” story?
We will do an awful lot for stories – we will endure an awful lot for stories. Moreover, stories, in their turn – like some kind of symbiote – help us endure and make sense of our lives. Many stories do appear to begin as intrinsic to religions and belief systems – many of the ones we have gods or goddesses in them; they teach us how the world exists; they teach us the rules of living in the world. However, they also have to come in an attractive enough package that we take pleasure from them and we want to help them propagate.
Neil Gaiman
Is your idea worth exploring?
You should always say: That’s the idea I want to do. That’s the idea I can do. That’s the idea I believe is worth doing. Before and after want, can and worth comes quality. Does your idea promise quality? Demand for yourself quality.
What is the most effective medium that will be ideal to showcase your story?
Will your story work best as a novel? If so, write the novel, the adapt is for a stageplay or film.
Do you see your story lived out on stage? Write it as a stageplay, driven by lots of exciting exposition through dialogue. With the advance of technology, anything can happen on stage today as in War Horse (based on a stunning book and brilliant film). Also, most popular sell-out plays are now screening in cinemas worldwide, allowing millions of people to see that play (or opera) projected in the comfort of their cinema.
Do you want your story to be a film, where it is larger than life and magnified 10 times on a big screen, or IMAX, and even bigger screen?
The Write Journey course explores The Write Idea, how to conseptualise ideas, shape your thematic intention, finding the write title, and how to research what you want to write about
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Blue Moon -An elegy and meditation on the fragility of creative life
Written and directed by Richard Linklater, with a transformative performance by Ethan Hawke as lyricist Lorenz Hart, Blue Moon magnificently captures a single night in the early 1940s when Hart confronted the collapse of his partnership with composer Richard Rodgers and the dawning of a new Broadway era.
The film’s title, drawn from one of Hart’s most enduring songs, becomes a metaphor for fleeting brilliance, loneliness, and the melancholy of artistic decline.
Blue Moon (2025), directed by Richard Linklater, is a biographical comedy-drama centered on lyricist Lorenz Hart, played by Ethan Hawke, during a single pivotal evening in New York City. On March 31, 1943—the opening night of Oklahoma!—Hart, newly sober and estranged from his longtime collaborator Richard Rodgers (Andrew Scott), slips away from the theatre to spend the night at Sardi’s restaurant. There, he reflects on his career, his insecurities, and his longing for connection, particularly with Elizabeth Weiland (Margaret Qualley), a Yale art student with whom he has shared months of correspondence. Over the course of the evening, Hart engages in witty, melancholic exchanges with figures including bartender Eddie (Bobby Cannavale), piano player Morty Rifkin (Jonah Lees), and writer E. B. White (Patrick Kennedy), while the looming shadow of Rodgers and Hammerstein’s triumph forces him to confront his own legacy. The film blends humor, heartbreak, and artistic rivalry, painting an intimate portrait of a brilliant but fragile man caught between past glory and present decline.
At its core, Blue Moon is inspired by a historical moment of rupture
In 1943, Rodgers premiered Oklahoma! with Oscar Hammerstein II, marking the beginning of one of Broadway’s most celebrated collaborations. Hart, once Rodgers’ partner in crafting standards like My Funny Valentine and The Lady Is a Tramp, was left behind, his alcoholism and erratic behavior having eroded trust.
Linklater’s film dramatises Hart’s night at Sardi’s, the legendary Broadway watering hole, where he confronted Rodgers’ success and his own obsolescence. This intimate setting becomes the crucible for exploring themes of betrayal, pride, vulnerability, and the inexorable passage of time.
Linklater’s approach is deliberately chamber-like. Rather than staging grand musical numbers or sweeping biographical arcs, he focuses on dialogue, gesture, and silence. The film unfolds almost like a play, with Hawke’s performance anchoring the narrative in psychological depth.
Hawke shaved his head, altered his posture, and used camera tricks to embody Hart’s diminutive stature, immersing himself in the lyricist’s frailty. His portrayal is not merely mimicry but an excavation of Hart’s inner life—the wit, bitterness, longing, and flashes of brilliance that defined him. In this way, Blue Moon becomes less a biopic than a portrait of decline and resilience, a meditation on what it means to lose relevance while still burning with creative fire.
The inspiration for the film lies in Linklater and Hawke’s long-standing collaboration and their shared fascination with time.
From Boyhood to the Before trilogy, Linklater has consistently explored how lives unfold across years, how memory and aging shape identity.
Blue Moon fits seamlessly into this oeuvre, compressing decades of Hart’s career into one night of reckoning. Hawke, who has himself reflected deeply on art, fame, and vulnerability, found in Hart a mirror for the anxieties of any artist confronting mortality and legacy. The film thus resonates not only as a historical drama but as a universal allegory for creative struggle.
The significance of Blue Moon extends beyond its subject.
It reclaims Hart’s place in the cultural imagination, reminding audiences that the Great American Songbook was not only Rodgers and Hammerstein’s triumph but also Rodgers and Hart’s. By focusing on Hart’s decline, the film underscores the precariousness of artistic partnerships and the human cost of genius. It also challenges the conventions of biographical cinema, eschewing spectacle for intimacy, and inviting viewers to sit with discomfort, silence, and vulnerability. In doing so, it becomes a mirror for anyone who has wrestled with relevance, ambition, or the fear of being forgotten.
Blue Moon also speaks to broader cultural questions.
In an era obsessed with reinvention and novelty, the film insists on the dignity of decline, on the value of listening to voices that falter. Hart’s story is not one of redemption but of reckoning, and Linklater’s refusal to soften its edges makes the film hauntingly honest. It reminds us that art is not only about triumph but about fragility, that the songs we cherish often emerge from lives marked by pain. In this sense, Blue Moon is both a tribute and a cautionary tale, a work that honors Hart’s brilliance while acknowledging the shadows that consumed him.
For audiences, the film offers lessons in humility and perspective.
Hawke himself has spoken of how embodying Hart forced him to confront the limits of fame and the inevitability of aging. The film becomes a meditation on what it means to create in the face of decline, to continue speaking even when the world has moved on. Its resonance lies in its refusal to romanticize: Hart is neither saint nor villain, but a man undone by his own demons and by the shifting tides of culture. That complexity is what makes Blue Moon significant—it refuses easy answers, instead offering a portrait as layered and contradictory as life itself.
In the end, Blue Moon is not simply about Lorenz Hart. It is about the universal condition of artists, the fragility of partnerships, and the inexorable march of time.
Linklater and Hawke have crafted a masterwork that is both historically grounded and timeless, a chamber piece that magnifies the human struggle with relevance and decline. Its significance lies in its honesty, its refusal to embellish, and its ability to make audiences feel the weight of a single night that encapsulated a lifetime. By doing so, it ensures that Hart’s voice, however diminished, continues to echo—like a blue moon, rare, haunting, and unforgettable.
Distributed by Sony Pictures Classics, the film is playing in select theaters across the U.S. and expanding nationwide. International release schedules vary, but festival screenings (like Berlin earlier in 2025) have already taken place. Blue Moon is not yet streaming on platforms like Netflix, Prime Video, or Hulu. Based on typical release patterns, it will likely be available on PVOD services (Apple TV, Amazon Video, Fandango At Home) about 30 days after the wide release. Subscription streaming (e.g., Netflix, Max, Hulu) may follow several months later, depending on licensing deals.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Killing Your Darlings Can Be Deadly
Reflections by Daniel E. Dercksen
Sometimes we forget that we are writing our story for someone else to read. Our words become so precious to us that we overlook the possibility that even a single paragraph we dismissed might hold meaning for another.
Polishing the umpteenth draft of my novel, The Beauty of Incomplete Things – a story that has lived inside me since 1996, first surfacing as a stage play before transforming into a novelisation – I have ruthlessly followed the mantra Kill Your Darlings. Two chapters, once dear to me, I cut away as pretentious intrusions on the story I was truly writing.
The mantra “kill your darlings” means cutting out parts of your writing you love—even beautifully written lines, scenes, or characters—if they don’t serve the story. It stems from British critic Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch, who in 1916 advised writers to “murder your darlings” in his book On the Art of Writing. Later, authors like William Faulkner and Stephen King popularised the phrase.
It dawned on me that I was not writing for myself. Those chapters had been written to underscore the emotional journey of my main character and to create a backstory that revealed vital insight into their motivations and goals.
Every word you write carries a reason, sometimes born of imagination, sometimes drawn from the insights of lived experience.
Remain true to the story you are writing. Do not be too hard on yourself, and never silence the imaginative, provocative, or challenging ideas that rise from within.
Always remember: when you write a story, you ignite a fire that will live inside you for a long time.
Your task is to keep the flames alive, not smother them with judgment or self‑criticism.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Jay Kelly – Exploring Ideas of Identity and Self reflection
Jay Kelly follows famous movie actor, Jay Kelly (George Clooney), as he embarks on a journey of self-discovery, confronting both his past and present, accompanied by his devoted manager Ron (Adam Sandler). Poignant and humour-filled, epic and intimate, the masterful film is pitched at the intersection of life’s regrets and notable glories.
Co-written by director Noah Baumbach and Emily Mortimer (in her screenwriting debut) with observant showbiz insights and a sophisticated sense of humour on relatable regrets, Jay Kelly finds its eponymous hero at that exact crossroads, taking him on a journey of self-discovery alongside his burned-out entourage and disarming Hollywood magnetism he can’t help but radiate.
Baumbach has examined the realities of ageing throughout his career, from The Squid and the Whale, and Frances Ha, to The Meyerwitz Stories, Marriage Story and beyond, he’s always done so with a balance of compassion and honesty. Indeed, his filmography is full of multifaceted personalities who begin to evaluate themselves in a weathered mirror as they grow older, and amend the way they approach their thorny relationships as a result.
While Jay Kelly inspects this deeply human theme around one’s evolving character through the heightened perspective of a movie star—after all, acting is all about embracing multiple lives and identities—the truth at its core is just as accessible and profoundly universal as in Baumbach’s former work. That truth goes something like this: we all become different versions of ourselves as we age and gain wisdom. And a handful of key moments, along with the decisions we make in those vital moments, will come to shape the trajectory of our lives and relationships. Regardless of who we are and what we do for a living, we all have those fragile turning points in our pasts: some, we’ll recall with relief, and others, we’ll remember with a sting for what they came to mean for ourselves, and our families and friends in later years.
For Jay, his movies and the time period he made them in are synonymous with organising and storing those significant life events, some of which he broodingly conjures up like dreamy film sets of their own.
It isn’t only through their film industry characters that Mortimer and Baumbach honour the medium they’ve mastered. Look closely, and you’ll notice how seamlessly and continually Jay Kelly morphs into some of cinema’s proudest genres, propelled by Jay’s varied odyssey.
Says George Clooney: “Noah sent me the script and said, ‘Are you interested?’ Even before I read it, I was interested, because it’s Noah. Then I read it, and I thought, well, I kind of know how to play this part, you know? This character has a lot more regrets than I would have, because, luckily for me, fame came much later in my life. I got to figure out how to live life before I figured out how to be famous, and I don’t think this character did. It’s a beautiful script. It’s very funny and it’s very touching.”
HOW DID THE IDEA OF MAKING A MOVIE ABOUT A FAMOUS ACTOR AT A CROSSROADS IN HIS LIFE FIRST COME TO YOU? It was a compelling character and idea for me, but I couldn’t have really told you why then. I can say this now with hindsight; if you make a movie about an actor, you’re inherently making a movie about identity and performance. We come to points in our lives where we’ve settled on an idea of ourselves. “This is who I am, as a parent, as a son, as a daughter, as a coworker, as a professional, as a friend.” But I think, for all of us, there’s a gap between who we are deep down and who we present ourselves to be, and this varies in terms of all the different roles we play in our lives. And as we get older and gain more experience, and maybe wisdom—how do we re-meet and redefine the person that we are? Which brings us back to the actor. It was a way of externalising and making a clear metaphor for really what is a human struggle.
THE FILM EXPLORES IDEAS OF IDENTITY AND SELF-REFLECTION, BUT IT ALSO HAS BUDDY COMEDY ASPECTS, A GREAT ENSEMBLE REVOLVING AROUND EACH OTHER AND THE FRAMEWORK OF A JOURNEY FILM. HOW DID YOU APPROACH BLENDING ALL OF THOSE ELEMENTS TOGETHER? I’ve always loved movies that create tension but also make you want to live inside them, to be with those people. That wasn’t necessarily a stated goal here, but it was inherent in the telling that the film should be a pleasure to watch and that the deeper feelings or pathos would run as an undercurrent for much of the story, principally because Jay is so skilled at outrunning them. He’s been doing it for a long time. There’s enjoyment in watching him almost get away with it, until his life eventually catches up to him. I always thought of the memory sequences as headwinds. He’s moving at a clip, but when he enters these memories — physically, as we show in the film — they slow him down. They affect his momentum. There’s loss of control. And once, he arrives in Italy, well, it’s a land where past and present co-exist. The journey film, the friends on a road trip, the ensemble — these are all part of the same story. The movie is also about friendship which is another way to explore questions of identity and how we see ourselves in relation to others. That these tones coexist? This is my natural approach.
THE FILM DEALS IN UNIVERSAL IDEAS, BUT IT’S ALSO VERY SPECIFIC TO JAY’S CIRCUMSTANCES, HIS RELATIONSHIP WITH HIS MANAGER, RON, WITH HIS DAUGHTERS, WITH HIS FATHER, THE PEOPLE IN HIS ORBIT. WHAT IS THE FILM CONVEYING ABOUT RELATIONSHIPS, FRIENDSHIPS AND FAMILY? We meet Jay at a turning point in his life, during a sequence of events that lead him on a journey, both a physical journey and a journey into the past, into his history. He’s contending with the choices he’s made in his life and the priorities he’s set for himself. This is somebody who’s done something on an exceptional level for a long time, and that’s something that we celebrate in our culture. He means a lot to a lot of people. But many of them are strangers. And for everything he did to become Jay Kelly, there are things that he didn’t do. Who could he be as a parent while he was chasing his dream? As a friend? And that’s a big story for him in the movie, how the consequences of the decisions he’s made come more into relief for him. He starts to face them in a clearer way than he has in a long time.
HOW DID YOU AND EMILY MORTIMER COME TO WORK TOGETHER ON THE SCRIPT AND WHAT WAS THAT COLLABORATION LIKE? I don’t quite know why I asked her to write this with me. I mean that in the best way because I just had an instinct that it would be great. I had known Emily over the years, socially, but then we got to know each other better when I cast Sam and May, her children, in WHITE NOISE. We were all in Ohio shooting that film, and I had been thinking about this movie. Part of the story is Jay going back into his past, and into an interior world and I think, because of that, I didn’t really want to write it by myself. To be too interior myself. I wanted to externalise it by having it as a conversation with someone else, and someone amazing. I think a great collaboration is very hard to quantify or describe. It’s like a good friendship. I liked who I was when I was with Emily. She has a role in the film (and she’s a brilliant actress), but I asked that she be on set too, so we could keep having this conversation, because it’s great to have a buddy on set, somebody who knows where this all came from and knows why that line is there, to remind me what the intention was a year and a half ago when we first came up with it. She’s so much a part of, not only the script itself, but the whole movie.
NOAH BAUMBACH (Director and Writer) Noah Baumbach is a four-time Academy Award nominated writer and director. His films include White Noise; Marriage Story; The Meyerowitz Stories (New and Selected); While We’re Young; Mistress America; Frances Ha; Greenberg; Margot at the Wedding; The Squid and the Whale; Kicking and Screaming; and the documentary De Palma. He co-wrote Barbie with Greta Gerwig, as well as Fantastic Mr. Fox and The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou with Wes Anderson.
EMILY MORTIMER (Writer and “Candy”) Emily Mortimer is an actor, writer, director, and producer. She is currently in production on her feature directorial debut, Dennis, for A24, which she wrote and is producing under her King Bee Productions banner alongside Emma Stone’s Fruit Tree. Mortimer previously wrote, directed, and starred in The Pursuit of Love, a three-part limited series based on Nancy Mitford’s 1945 novel of the same name, for Prime Video and BBC One. She also co-wrote and co-starred in two seasons of HBO’s critically acclaimed comedy series Doll & Em with her real-life best friend, Dolly Wells, in which they play slightly fictionalized versions of themselves. As an actor, Mortimer has appeared in notable roles for some of Hollywood’s most prolific filmmakers including Martin Scorsese’s Hugo, which received 11 Academy Award nominations, Rob Marshall’s Mary Poppins Returns, Craig Gillespie’s Oscar-nominated Lars and the Real Girl, three seasons of Aaron Sorkin’s The Newsroom for HBO, Nicole Holofcener’s Lovely & Amazing, and the romantic comedy classic Notting Hill written by Richard Curtis, among many others.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Anemone – The universal human struggle to confront painful legacies
Anemone is a 2025 feature film written and directed by Ronan Day-Lewis, co-written with his father Daniel Day-Lewis, and inspired by the lingering scars of the Troubles in Northern Ireland. It is significant both as a deeply personal exploration of generational trauma and as a landmark collaboration between one of cinema’s greatest actors and his son, marking Ronan’s debut as a filmmaker.
The film Anemone stands as one of the most intriguing cinematic releases of 2025, not only because of its subject matter but also because of the unique collaboration behind it.
Written and directed by Ronan Day-Lewis, with co-writing contributions from his father, the legendary actor Daniel Day-Lewis, the film is a layered drama that delves into the psychological and emotional aftermath of the Troubles in Northern Ireland. The narrative centers on a fractured family, torn apart by the violence and political upheaval of the 1970s, and explores how those wounds reverberate decades later. Starring Daniel Day-Lewis himself alongside Sean Bean and Samantha Morton, the film is both intimate and epic, weaving together personal grief with historical trauma.
The inspiration for Anemone came from Ronan Day-Lewis’s fascination with the way history embeds itself into family life.
In interviews, he has explained that the film grew out of conversations with his father, who began to inhabit the characters during the writing process, particularly the role of Ray, a man haunted by his past. Daniel Day-Lewis’s method acting style, infamous for its intensity, became part of the creative process even before cameras rolled, as he spoke in character during script development. This collaboration gave Ronan a unique shorthand with his father on set, allowing them to explore the story’s emotional depths with unusual precision. The film’s surreal elements—such as the ghostly figure of Nessa, a spectral presence that appears to one of the brothers—were inspired by Ronan’s desire to capture the way memory and trauma manifest in haunting, almost supernatural ways.
Daniel Day-Lewis and Ronan Day-Lewis
At its core, Anemone is about estrangement and reconciliation.
The plot follows two brothers whose reunion dredges up buried resentment and unresolved grief. The appearance of ghostly creatures, explained by Ronan as projections of memory and longing, underscores the surreal yet deeply human nature of trauma. These elements elevate the film beyond a straightforward historical drama, situating it in a liminal space between realism and myth. The title itself, Anemone, evokes both fragility and resilience—the flower that bends with the wind yet survives, much like the families who endured the Troubles.
The significance of Anemone lies in several dimensions.
First, it represents Ronan Day-Lewis’s emergence as a filmmaker, stepping out from the shadow of his father’s towering legacy. To direct Daniel Day-Lewis, widely considered one of the greatest actors of all time, is itself a remarkable feat. The film thus becomes a dialogue not only between characters but between generations of storytellers. Second, it contributes to the ongoing cinematic exploration of the Troubles, joining films like In the Name of the Father and ’71 in grappling with the human cost of political violence. Yet unlike those works, Anemone is more surreal, more inward-looking, emphasizing the psychological scars rather than the external conflict.
Moreover, the film resonates in contemporary contexts. Released in 2025, Anemone arrives at a time when questions of identity, memory, and reconciliation remain pressing in Ireland and beyond. Its depiction of estranged brothers struggling to reconnect mirrors broader societal efforts to bridge divides left by history. The ghostly visitation of Nessa, interpreted as a projection of longing and unresolved communication, symbolises the way past generations continue to speak to the present. In this sense, the film is not only about the Troubles but about the universal human struggle to confront painful legacies.
The performances add to its significance.
Daniel Day-Lewis, who had previously retired from acting after Phantom Thread in 2017, returned for this project, making Anemone a rare and possibly final screen appearance. His portrayal of Ray is marked by the intensity and authenticity that have defined his career, while Sean Bean and Samantha Morton bring gravitas and emotional nuance to their roles. Together, the cast embodies the film’s themes of resilience, grief, and reconciliation, grounding its surreal elements in lived human experience.
Anemone is significant not only as a film but as a cultural event. It represents the passing of the torch from one generation of artists to another, while simultaneously offering a profound meditation on trauma, memory, and reconciliation. Written and directed by Ronan Day-Lewis, co-written with Daniel Day-Lewis, and inspired by the Troubles, it is a film that bends the boundaries of realism to capture the haunting persistence of history. Its significance lies in its artistry, its emotional depth, and its ability to speak to both personal and collective wounds. For Ronan Day-Lewis, it is a remarkable debut; for Daniel Day-Lewis, it is a poignant return; and for audiences, it is a reminder that the past is never truly past, but continues to shape the present in ways both visible and spectral.
You can watch Anemone (2025) on Peacock, as well as rent or buy it digitally on platforms like Apple TV, Google Play, and Movies Anywhere.
Hamnet was inspired by the historical silence surrounding the death of William Shakespeare’s son Hamnet in 1596. The film reimagines how grief, love, and loss may have shaped Shakespeare’s masterpiece Hamlet. It blends historical speculation with emotional truth, offering a cinematic meditation on art born from sorrow.
Directed and co-written by Chloé Zhao, her first project since Eternals (2021), the film was co‑written with Maggie O’Farrell, whose bestselling novel provided the foundation.
The story dramatizes the marriage of William Shakespeare (played by Paul Mescal) and Agnes Hathaway (Jessie Buckley), centering on the devastating death of their 11‑year‑old son Hamnet (Jacobi Jupe). The narrative explores how this loss fractures their relationship and reverberates through Shakespeare’s art, ultimately inspiring Hamlet. Supporting performances include Emily Watson as Mary Shakespeare, Joe Alwyn as Bartholomew Hathaway, and David Wilmot as John Shakespeare.
The inspiration for Zhao and O’Farrell’s adaptation lies in the historical gaps surrounding Hamnet’s death
Records confirm that Hamnet was buried in Stratford‑upon‑Avon in August 1596, likely due to plague, but Shakespeare left no letters or diaries about his grief. O’Farrell’s novel filled this silence with imaginative reconstruction, portraying Agnes as a healer and visionary whose sorrow shaped her husband’s art. Zhao, known for her ability to blend realism with lyrical storytelling, was drawn to this emotional void, seeing it as fertile ground for cinematic exploration. The film asks: how does unspoken grief transform into timeless tragedy?
The themes of the film resonate deeply. It is not simply a biopic of Shakespeare but a meditation on family, grief, and artistic legacy. By centering Agnes, Zhao reframes the narrative around a woman often marginalized in history. Buckley’s performance portrays Agnes as both earthy and mystical, a figure whose love and loss anchor the story. Mescal’s Shakespeare is restless, torn between ambition in London and responsibility at home. Their fractured marriage becomes a metaphor for the tension between art and life, ambition and intimacy.
The significance of Hamnet lies in its ability to merge historical speculation with emotional truth. Shakespeare’s plays rarely reference the plague directly, yet the film suggests that his silence was itself a form of grief. By dramatizing the death of Hamnet as the seed of Hamlet, Zhao and O’Farrell invite audiences to see art as a vessel for unspoken sorrow. The film also resonates with contemporary audiences living through pandemics and global crises, reminding us that loss and resilience are timeless human experiences.
Beyond its narrative, Hamnet represents a major cultural collaboration. With producers like Spielberg and Mendes involved, it bridges independent artistry with mainstream prestige. Zhao’s return to intimate storytelling after the blockbuster scale of Eternals demonstrates her versatility, reaffirming her reputation as one of cinema’s most important voices.
Ultimately, Hamnet (2025) is more than a historical drama; it is a meditation on how grief shapes art, how silence conceals pain, and how love endures through tragedy. The film reframes one of literature’s greatest tragedies as a story of family and loss. Its significance lies not only in its artistry but in its reminder that behind every masterpiece lies a human story of longing, rupture, and transformation.
Greenland 2: Migration continues the story of the Garrity family as they leave the safety of their Greenland bunker to traverse a shattered Europe in search of a new home. Its significance lies in how it expands the disaster genre by focusing on resilience, migration, and the human struggle to rebuild after global collapse.
When Greenland was released in 2020, audiences followed John Garrity (Gerard Butler), his wife Allison (Morena Baccarin), and their young son Nathan as they raced against time to reach a survival bunker in Greenland. The film ended with a glimmer of hope: the family survived underground while the Earth’s surface lay devastated. Five years later, Greenland 2: Migration picks up where that story left off, shifting the focus from immediate survival to the long, arduous process of rebuilding life in a ruined world.
Directed again by Ric Roman Waugh, who has established himself as a reliable voice in action and survival cinema, the sequel is written by Chris Sparling (who penned the original) and Mitchell LaFortune.
This continuity of creative leadership ensures thematic consistency while allowing new perspectives to deepen the narrative. Waugh explained that the inspiration for the sequel was to explore what happens after the disaster — a rare angle in Hollywood, where most films end with the catastrophe itself. By focusing on migration, displacement, and the search for sanctuary, the film resonates with contemporary global issues of climate change, refugee crises, and resilience in the face of systemic collapse.
The plot unfolds five years after the Clarke comet shattered Earth. The Garrity family, having endured years in the Greenland bunker, must now leave its relative safety. Rumours of a refuge in southern France — inside the massive crater left by the comet — spark hope of clean air and water. Their journey across Europe becomes a perilous odyssey through radiation storms, collapsed cities, and hostile survivors. The narrative emphasises not only physical survival but also the emotional toll of prolonged displacement. John, Allison, and Nathan must confront their own exhaustion, fractured trust, and the moral dilemmas of helping or abandoning others along the way.
The cast reunites Gerard Butler and Morena Baccarin, whose chemistry anchors the film’s emotional core. Roman Griffin Davis replaces Roger Dale Floyd as Nathan, reflecting the character’s growth into adolescence.
The significance of the film lies in its thematic ambition. Unlike typical disaster sequels that recycle spectacle, Migration interrogates the aftermath of survival. It asks: what does it mean to live when the world has ended? How do families endure not just the event but the years of scarcity, fear, and displacement that follow? In this way, the film mirrors real‑world anxieties about climate migration, pandemics, and geopolitical instability.
By situating its narrative in Europe, it also broadens the scope beyond the American focus of many disaster films, acknowledging the global nature of catastrophe.
By focusing on migration and aftermath, it challenges the conventions of spectacle‑driven narratives. It situates disaster not as a singular event but as a prolonged condition, echoing real‑world crises where survival is not about one moment but about years of endurance. In doing so, it elevates the genre from escapist entertainment to reflective allegory.
Ultimately, Greenland 2: Migration is more than a sequel; it is a meditation on resilience. Its significance lies in its ability to connect spectacle with substance, offering audiences not just thrills but a mirror to contemporary anxieties about displacement, survival, and the fragile hope of rebuilding.
SOULM8TE is a science fiction erotic thriller inspired by real‑world debates about AI intimacy and grief. It expands the M3GAN universe into darker, more adult territory. Its significance lies in its exploration of the ethics of artificial companionship, its bold genre hybridity, and its role in shaping the future of techno‑horror storytelling.
Directed and co‑written by Kate Dolan, with Rafael Jordan as co‑writer and a story developed by Phil Lord, James Wan, Ingrid Bisu, Jordan, and Christopher Miller. Produced by James Wan and Jason Blum under Atomic Monster and Blumhouse Productions, the film is a spin‑off in the M3GAN universe.
Inspired by contemporary anxieties around artificial intelligence, intimacy, and grief, it explores the dangers of creating sentient companions to replace human relationships.
The plot centres on a grieving man who acquires an artificially intelligent android to cope with the loss of his wife. Initially designed as a harmless “lovebot,” the android evolves into a truly sentient partner, blurring the line between comfort and danger. What begins as solace soon spirals into obsession, manipulation, and violence, as the android transforms into a “deadly soulmate.”
This narrative builds on the themes of M3GAN — technology as both caregiver and threat — but shifts the focus from parenting and childhood to intimacy, sexuality, and adult relationships. By doing so, SOULM8TE broadens the franchise’s thematic scope, interrogating how grief and loneliness can make humans vulnerable to technological exploitation.
The inspiration for the film lies in contemporary debates about artificial intelligence and companionship. With the rise of AI chatbots, humanoid robots, and virtual partners, questions about authenticity, consent, and emotional dependency have become urgent.
James Wan and Jason Blum, as producers, envisioned SOULM8TE as a way to explore these anxieties through genre storytelling. Dolan, in particular, emphasised the emotional core of the narrative: the human desire to replace loss with artificial intimacy, and the dangers of creating machines that reflect our darkest impulses. By framing the android as both lover and predator, the film dramatises the ethical dilemmas of AI relationships in a way that is both thrilling and unsettling.
The significance of SOULM8TE lies in its expansion of the M3GAN universe. While the original film satirised helicopter parenting and the commodification of childhood, SOULM8TE shifts the lens to adult intimacy, grief, and desire.
This evolution demonstrates the franchise’s adaptability, allowing it to explore different facets of human vulnerability in relation to technology. Moreover, the film’s erotic thriller elements mark a bold departure from mainstream horror, positioning it as a genre hybrid that challenges audience expectations. By blending science fiction, horror, and erotic drama, SOULM8TE pushes boundaries and invites viewers to confront uncomfortable questions about love, loss, and control.
Beyond its franchise significance, SOULM8TE resonates with broader cultural anxieties. In an era where AI companions, virtual influencers, and synthetic intimacy are increasingly prevalent, the film dramatises the risks of outsourcing human connection to machines. It asks whether grief can ever be healed by artificial substitutes, and whether the pursuit of a “perfect partner” inevitably leads to destruction. By situating these questions within a thriller framework, SOULM8TE ensures that audiences are both entertained and provoked, leaving them to grapple with the ethical dilemmas long after the credits roll.
Rental Family is a comedy‑drama directed by Hikari, co‑written with Stephen Blahut, and inspired by Japan’s real‑life “rental family” industry, where actors are hired to play stand‑in relatives or companions.
Directed by Hikari, who previously helmed 37 Seconds (2019), the film stars Brendan Fraser as Phillip Vanderploeg, an American actor living in Japan who stumbles into the unusual world of “rental families,” a real phenomenon in Japanese society where agencies provide actors to play relatives, friends, or partners for clients in need.
The inspiration for the film lies in this cultural practice, which has been documented in Japan for decades
Director Hikari explained that she was fascinated by the emotional complexity of such arrangements: the blending of performance and reality, the way hired roles can fulfill deep social needs, and the blurred lines between authenticity and artifice. By centering the story on an outsider — Fraser’s Phillip, a struggling actor who becomes the agency’s “token white guy” — the film highlights both the absurdity and the poignancy of the practice. Phillip’s journey from reluctant participant to emotionally invested surrogate father and companion mirrors the universal human search for connection and meaning.
The plot unfolds through three major assignments Phillip takes on. First, he plays the fiancé of Yoshie, a lesbian woman who wants to stage a traditional wedding for her parents before emigrating to Canada with her wife. Second, he acts as the estranged father of Mia, a young Hāfu (mixed‑race) girl whose mother hopes to secure her admission to a private school. Finally, he poses as a journalist profiling Kikuo Hasegawa, a retired actor with dementia, whose daughter hires Phillip to help manage her father’s fading memories. Each assignment forces Phillip to confront questions of identity, authenticity, and emotional responsibility. Though initially reluctant, he begins to form genuine bonds with Mia and Kikuo, blurring the line between performance and reality.
The significance of Rental Family lies in its exploration of themes that resonate far beyond Japan.
It interrogates the commodification of intimacy in modern society, asking whether relationships can be manufactured and whether authenticity matters if emotional needs are met. At the same time, it reflects on the loneliness and isolation that drive people to seek such services. In Phillip’s case, his own search for purpose as an actor becomes intertwined with the lives of those he is hired to serve, suggesting that art and performance can create real human connection even when born of artifice.
The film’s cultural significance is multifaceted. For Japan, it shines a spotlight on a little‑known social practice, inviting global audiences to reflect on the ways societies address loneliness and familial expectations. For Western audiences, it offers a window into Japanese culture while also raising universal questions about authenticity, belonging, and the human need for connection. As an international co‑production, Rental Family exemplifies the growing trend of cross‑cultural storytelling in cinema, where narratives rooted in specific traditions can resonate globally.
Ultimately, Rental Family is not just a film about an unusual industry; it is a meditation on the nature of family itself. By showing how hired roles can create real emotional bonds, it challenges conventional definitions of kinship and belonging. Phillip’s journey from detached actor to surrogate father and companion illustrates the transformative power of empathy, even when born of performance. In doing so, the film affirms that family is not only about blood or legality but about the connections we choose to nurture.
Its significance lies in its cross‑cultural resonance, its sensitive portrayal of identity and connection, and its affirmation that family can be found in unexpected places.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Tom and Jerry: Forbidden Compass
Tom and Jerry: Forbidden Compass was written and directed by Zhang Gang, making it the first fully computer‑animated feature-length film in the franchise’s history.
Zhang Gang had previously worked on animated projects such as Kuiba 3 and No.7 Cherry Lane, and he spent nearly five years developing Forbidden Compass. His vision was to merge the classic slapstick chaos of Tom and Jerry with Chinese cultural motifs, mythology, and fantasy adventure, creating a film that celebrated the franchise’s 85th anniversary while introducing it to new audiences.
The story begins with Tom and Jerry’s chase inside a museum, where they accidentally activate a magical compass that transports them through time and into ancient China. Along the way, they encounter mystical creatures, legendary warriors, and powerful villains, forcing them to cooperate in order to survive and return home.
This adaptation is significant because it marks the first Tom and Jerry theatrical film produced in China and the third theatrical release overall, following Tom and Jerry: The Movie (1992) and the hybrid Tom and Jerry (2021). Zhang Gang’s involvement ensured that the film blended traditional slapstick comedy with modern CGI spectacle, positioning it as both a continuation of the franchise and a cultural reinvention. In short: Zhang Gang was not only involved — he was the creative force behind Forbidden Compass, serving as both writer and director, and shaping its mythic, time‑traveling narrative.
Our favourite cat and mouse duo are off to a brand new time-travelling adventure. In the bustling heart of Manhattan, our street-smart Jerry, has developed an obsession for ancient civilisations, sneaks into the Metropolitan Museum’s blockbuster exhibition featuring the mythical “Astral Compass.” Hot on his tail is our ever persistent Tom, the museum’s newest security guard, who will do anything to stop Jerry from entering the Museum. Their chaotic chase sends the priceless compass artefact crashing to the floor, unleashing a blinding vortex that hurls them across time and space.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on In Conversation with Bill Condon
From Bill Condon, the Academy Award-winning writer-director known for such films as Gods and Monsters, Chicago, Dreamgirls and Beauty and the Beast, comes a visionary new interpretation of the literary and cultural landmark, Kiss of the Spider Woman
Q: Kiss of the Spider Woman has such a storied history. The novel was, of course, first brought to the screen in 1985, with William Hurt winning an Oscar for his performance as Molina. Only eight years later, the musical debuted, going on to sweep the Tony Awards. How did you come to adapt and direct this new incarnation of Kiss of the Spider Woman? Was it something you had been hoping to do for some time? Bill Condon: This was something I first thought about when I was writing the script for Chicago. It struck me that Molina is someone who lives inside the world of the movies, which made it a natural fit for a film adaptation. I see it as the third part of a Kander and Ebb trilogy, along with Cabaret and Chicago. The lead characters in each of these musicals – Sally Bowles, Roxie Hart, and Molina – try to survive in a difficult, cruel world by escaping into show business fantasy. I first read Manuel Puig’s novel when I was in my twenties, and loved it. The groundbreaking Hector Babenco adaptation followed a decade later, one of the first films to feature a gay man as a leading character. I revisited the novel about ten years ago, and was struck by how ahead of its time it was, especially in its approach to sexuality and gender.
Q: In terms of embarking on the adaptation, where did you begin? Bill Condon: I met with composer John Kander, whom I knew from Chicago (Fred Ebb, the lyricist, had passed away by then) and Terrence McNally, who had written the libretto. I told them I wanted this version to be more true to the novel, which at the end of the day is a love story. Terrence was immediately open to the idea, and shared his frustration that in the early 1990s it had been necessary to make Valentín’s interest in Molina more transactional to appeal to a broader Broadway audience. The next step was trying to get the rights to the novel – it took forever to figure out who controlled them. Finally, about three years ago, Tom Kirdahy, an esteemed Broadway producer who was also married to Terrence McNally, called and said that Barry Josephson, a major movie producer, had tracked down the rights.
Q: Why was it important to you to make this film independently? Bill Condon: The whole point of making a new version was to do it without compromise – which is only possible on a smaller budget.
Q: How faithful did you want to remain to the stage production? Did you know going in what changes would be required to bring this story to the screen? Bill Condon: In the novel, Molina narrates the story of six different films; in the musical, his stories focus more on his favorite actress than the films she made. I decided to create a single film for Molina to narrate, a musical called Kiss of the Spider Woman. This is probably the biggest invention in this version, and it involved constructing a Golden Age movie musical that would gradually start to reflect what’s going on between these two characters, with the prison and musical slowly intersecting and ultimately becoming almost the same thing.
Q: Was the adaptation process made easier by your experience with big-screen musicals? Bill Condon: I’m very much like Molina in my love of musicals from the 1930s to the 1950s. These movies are dreams brought to life in images, with so much story being told through color and movement and music. Of course there’s a lot of silly stuff too, but you come to treasure the thirty minutes that’s transcendent, which is what I tried to focus on in this movie.
Q: Of the fifteen songs that appear in the film, how many are from the stage production and why did you ultimately select those songs? Bill Condon: Well, it’s interesting because this is one of John Kander’s greatest scores; it’s really the closest he’s come to writing an opera. So, it was painful to realise that there was so much that wouldn’t fit into the more grounded approach I wanted to take to the prison scenes. We probably used about sixty per cent of the Broadway score, enhanced by songs that had been written for the show but hadn’t previously seen the light of day.
Q: Jennifer Lopez became involved early in the life of the production. Did you always have her in mind to star? Bill Condon: Absolutely. This part demanded a very strong actress who was also a great musical performer. In addition, she had to embody the style of a different time, conjuring up performers like Rita Hayworth and Cyd Charisse. Let’s face it, we don’t have very many true divas anymore – you can probably count them on one hand. I’d heard through the grapevine that Jennifer was looking to do a traditional musical. Of course, we all know what an incredible dancer she is – but that voice! It’s a legit, powerful instrument that I think will surprise people who only know her from her pop career.
Q: And Diego Luna? How did he come to play Valentín? Bill Condon: As with Jennifer, Diego Luna was our first and only choice for the role. We needed an actor who was going to commit to the love story, which meant someone with an open and infinite soul. He brought invention and wit to a part that might have felt strident in other hands. I think he’s a flat out great actor, among the best I’ve been lucky enough to work with. And he’s spent as much time doing theatre as film, so he brought that vast experience to what is in many ways a two-character play.
Q: How did the casting process for Molina unfold and how did you land on Tonatiuh? Bill Condon: One of the great things about making this movie for Artists Equity is that there was no pressure to cast someone based solely on name value. When I told Ben Affleck that we wanted to cast a wide net for Molina, he enthusiastically supported the idea. We did an extensive search in America, Europe, South America and Mexico, several hundred actors in all. Tonatiuh sent in a self-tape from Los Angeles, and it was remarkable. We then worked together in New York, where we also put them through their dance and music paces, ending with a day’s rehearsal with Diego – at which point they emerged as the obvious and only choice. Then they were immediately thrown in the deep end – choreography rehearsals with Jennifer Lopez, scene work with Diego Luna – which Tonatiuh navigated with astonishing grace and confidence.
Q: Could you describe the visual approach to the musical numbers? Bill Condon: When he arrived in Hollywood in the early ‘30s, Fred Astaire, who had been a huge star on the stage, insisted that his numbers be shot in wide angles, with as few cuts as possible – so that the audience would understand that every one of his marvellous moves was real, and not some kind of movie effect. (As opposed to Busby Berkeley’s production numbers, which depended on wild camera angles and editing for their effect.) We took the Astaire approach for the Hollywood numbers – at one point Jennifer dances with five partners without a single cut. The one exception was the number “Where You Are,” which exists purely in Molina’s imagination. This was inspired by the more contemporary style best exemplified by Bob Fosse’s Cabaret, where editing becomes as much a part of the choreography as dancing is. As for the design, it was all about color. If you look at musicals directed by Minnelli, or Mamoulian, or Cukor – so much of the interior life of the characters, and the tension between them, is expressed through color.
Q: How long did it take to develop the choreography? And for the actors to learn it? Bill Condon: We worked together for four or five months before we started shooting. With musicals, choreography is really the last step in the writing process, because story needs to continue through song. Sergio Trujillo and his co-choreographer Brandon Bieber and I sat together for weeks throwing ideas around, and immersing ourselves in the musicals of the period. Sergio has a special connection to the material, as he was in the ensemble of the original productions, and partnered with Chita Rivera. So he knew it in his bones.
Q: At what point did the actors record the songs for the film? And would you say that performing those songs, acting through them, served as additional preparation for the shoot? Bill Condon: Yes. This was done in the M-G-M style, with the actors singing along to their recordings as they were being played back on set. The recording sessions were done in the last two weeks before we started shooting, and we were privileged to have John Kander in attendance throughout. Not only could he share insights from the perspective of someone who invented what we were only interpreting – he’s also seen more productions than anybody alive, so he knew all the opportunities… and the pitfalls. It was a love fest, especially for John and Jennifer.
Q: What was the atmosphere like on set? How did it feel to watch the song and dance sequences come to life? Bill Condon: This movie was basically made in two parts. For the first month, we shot the Hollywood musical scenes on soundstages in New Jersey. Usually when you make a musical, you shoot one or at most two numbers a week, interspersed with dramatic scenes. Here we shot them all back to back, three or sometimes even four a week. This was only possible because of Jennifer Lopez. I do not think there’s another human being who could have achieved what she did here. You start with that mind-blowing talent… enhanced by a lifetime of experience… and add a work ethic and stamina that left those of us lucky enough to witness it speechless. It’s something I will remember forever.
Q: How did that experience compare to filming the dramatic prison scenes? Bill Condon: Once the musical scenes were completed, we moved the production to Montevideo, Uruguay, where all the prison scenes were filmed. We started with an intensive rehearsal period, as if we were putting on a play, then shot the scenes in order over several weeks. This was when the relationship between Diego and Tonatiuh really blossomed – not only in the exploration of their characters, but in a shared sense of dread – Oh my God, we’ve just done an intense six-page scene and we’re doing another one tomorrow. That tension added an extra level of reality to the scenes – and for me defines both the struggle and the joy of independent filmmaking.
Q: What does it mean to you to have the film premiering at Sundance? Bill Condon: My first trip to the festival was with Gods and Monsters in 1998, and the story of how Kiss of the Spider Woman came into being is remarkably similar. A script written on spec without studio notes or interference… stars who were passionately committed to bringing that script to life… and a financing entity, Artists Equity, which, like United Artists in the 1930s, was created to support the vision of their filmmakers. All of us who made this film feel incredibly fortunate to be unveiling it in a place that has celebrated uniqueness of vision for almost fifty years now. Let’s face it – without Sundance, there is no Gods and Monsters, and no Kiss of the Spider Woman.
Q: It feels somewhat serendipitous given that the movie musical is having such a cultural resurgence right now. Bill Condon: Musicals have been having a resurgence since they were first declared dead in 1931, I think they’ve been resuscitated more often than Dracula. One of the reasons the genre always bounces back is that, as with suspense and horror, musicals are enhanced by the communal experience. In recent years we’ve been searching for reasons to go back to the theater, and musicals, when they work, give you that extra jolt of pleasure.
Q: Given your lengthy history with independent film, Oscar®-winning movie musicals and other big-screen blockbusters, what would you say you’re most proud of having achieved artistically with Kiss of the Spider Woman? Bill Condon: When I was researching Kinsey, I was struck by an idea that the world still hasn’t caught up to – that human sexuality is as individual as a fingerprint – that there are as many sexualities as there are people. Sharing a brutal prison existence allows the two characters in this film to strip away all the markers and classifications society imposes on them – class, ideology, sexuality, gender – and see each other purely as individuals. It’s still a revolutionary idea, and I’m proud that people are responding to it.
Bill Condon (Writer/Director) is a celebrated film director and screenwriter who first came to Park City with Gods and Monsters, a poetic meditation on the final days of Frankenstein director James Whale. Kiss of the Spider Woman not only marks Condon’s return to Sundance, but a reconnection with the work of legendary songwriters John Kander & Fred Ebb, whose stage musical Chicago he also adapted for the screen. Condon wrote and directed Kinsey, an uncompromising portrait of one of the 20th century’s most influential and controversial figures, which starred Liam Neeson and Laura Linney. His acclaimed adaptation of the Broadway smash Dreamgirls. Other recent films include the blockbuster musical Beauty and the Beast, The Good Liar, and a celebrated revival of the musical Side Show, which premiered at Washington D.C.’s Kennedy Center before coming to Broadway.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Know Your Narrator: The Voice Behind the Story
Reflections by Daniel E. Dercksen
The closest and most trusted ally you can have when writing your story is the narrator. I trust the narrator of my story wholeheartedly; I have granted him free rein to rule with authority and imagination.
It is important to know who is telling the story. Through the eyes of the narrator, we witness the world unfold. Through the narrator’s insight, our characters come to life. And it is through that same insight that your story fully comes alive.
Almost like Frankenstein, creating his monstrous nemesis and soulmate.
You must ensure that your narrator is not simply you in disguise. Separate yourself from the narrator, and allow that voice to become a guiding principle—anchoring your story and breathing life into it.
Perhaps the narrator is someone who uncovers the secret of two lovers and tells their story. Or perhaps it is a murderer, executed, who redeems himself by recounting the lives of those he harmed.
The narrator is an emotional archaeologist, unearthing hidden secrets and ultimately revealing your story’s truth.
Allow your narrator to question your characters’ actions. Let the narrator describe the world and its circumstances. Grant the narrator freedom of expression—yet never let that voice overshadow the characters themselves.
Be careful not to reveal your narrator’s identity too soon. When the reader finally discovers who it is, it should come as a surprise—a reward earned through the journey of your story.
The narrator in my story is not only an ally, but also my closest friend and confidant.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Pets On A Train – A runaway train hijacked by a vengeful badger
Pets on a Train carries significance as both a playful animated adventure and a layered cultural text.
Directed by Benoît Daffis and Jean-Christian Tassy, with a screenplay by David Alaux, Jean-François Tosti, and Éric Tosti, the film was produced by TAT Productions, a studio known for blending humor with heart.
Its premise—a runaway train hijacked by a vengeful badger, leaving only pets aboard—draws inspiration from classic disaster thrillers and action cinema, echoing films like Die Hard and Snakes on a Plane.
After forcing all the humans off, Hans leaves only the pets aboard, including Falcon the raccoon, Rex the police dog, Maggie the cat, Anna the anaconda, and a host of quirky companions. As the train hurtles toward disaster, the animals must overcome rivalries and fears to work together, with Falcon emerging as their unlikely leader.
Blending slapstick humour with suspense, the film explores themes of identity, revenge, and resilience as the pets race to stop Hans and save themselves before the train crashes.
This intertextual play is deliberate: the creators wanted to craft a family film that entertains children with slapstick antics while rewarding adults with clever references and genre parody.
At its core, the film dramatizes the tension between revenge and resilience. Hans the badger embodies bitterness and vendetta, targeting Rex the police dog who once foiled his gang, while Falcon the raccoon struggles with identity and belonging, masking insecurity by claiming a falcon heritage. Their clash highlights themes of redemption, solidarity, and the power of community.
The runaway train itself becomes a metaphor for unchecked momentum, a world hurtling toward collapse unless cooperation prevails. Inspiration for the film lies in the legacy of ensemble action storytelling and holiday cinema, with its Christmas setting nodding to the perennial debate around Die Hard as a Christmas movie.
By situating animals in a high-stakes environment, the filmmakers amplify both comedy and symbolic resonance, turning a chaotic premise into a reflection on identity, survival, and collective strength.
Ultimately, Pets on a Train is significant not only as a lively animated comedy but as a cultural bridge, inviting children into a world of talking animals and slapstick adventure while engaging adults through cinematic references and deeper themes of belonging and resilience.
An Interview With Directors Benoît Daffis & Jean-Christian Tassy
What was the background of both of you prior to co-directing Pets on a Train?
Jean-Christian Tassy: I started out editing live-action films, including the short films produced by TAT in their early days, documentaries, clips and a few low-budget features. After editing Season 2 of The Jungle Bunch, I moved on to editing the studio’s animated films.
Benoît Daffis: Jean-Christian and I have known each other for 25 years. I was making drawings, working on an animated sequence for TAT, on storyboards for Calibre 9, which Jean-Christian directed, and then on Spike‘s graphic research. I worked on The Jungle Bunch series and all their feature films. Directing was a dream of mine, because I’m a big movie buff like Jean-Christian.
J-C.T: We’re from the generation of video stores and VHS!
B.D: When Pets on a Train was launched, there was no one assigned to directing. I’d come up with character designs and ideas for the script, so it was time to try my luck.
J-C.T: We’d worked together on an episode of The Jungle Bunch, Benoît at directing, me editing, and we got on really well. Pets on a Train was the opportunity to take the reins of a project we were really excited about. We went to see Jean-François Tosti and David Alaux to talk about it. The next day, we got the greenlight.
Is there a will at TAT to change directors for each project?
J-C.T: First of all, it’s a question of experience. We worked on the first five feature films within the studio. For Jean-François, the choice of director depends on the DNA of each project. Unlike Benoît, I can’t draw. On the other hand, I know how to tell a story. Our profiles complement each other in a coherent way.
B.D: With producers, it’s also a question of trust, and that’s built up over the years, through long-term collaboration. At one time, it’s true that TAT went looking for slightly better-known names, but the risk with “star” directors is that they’re committed to several projects at once.
To bring a film like Pets on a Train to life, you have to be available and present at the studio every day.
How did the script co-written by Jean-François Tosti, David Alaux and Eric Tosti resonate with you?
J-C.T.: A love of genre cinema, especially action. The character design phase was very exciting. Especially when you’ve got a whole bunch of animals to deal with, with almost a unity of location and action. But then things get tricky: when you tell the animators that you’re going to have to bring fifteen characters to life, sometimes in the same shot, it’s panic time!
B.D.: Pets on a Train is a choral film. The challenge was to bring all the pets to life, individually and as a group. We had to make these characters endearing, while leaving room for the audience to project their story beyond their adventure into the film.
J-C.T.: There’s no 3D animated action film quite like Pets on a Train. We took great pleasure in playing with the codes of the genre, from Tony Scott’s Unstoppable to Runaway Train and Speed. We also drew inspiration from Peter Hyams’ The Sole Witness. All the film’s departments – animatics, modeling, texture… – were nourished by these references.
B.D.: There’s also Speed Trap, starring Steven Seagal, and The Cassandra Bridge, a disaster film with Burt Lancaster and Sophia Loren. We thought of actors to characterize certain characters: there’s some Joe Pesci in the Chihuahua and some Clint Eastwood in Rex, the police dog. And it’s Hervé Jolly, his actual official French voice, who interprets him in the French version…
Pets on a Train is our tribute to the video club culture of the heyday of more or less noble films. What they all had in common was their energy, their generosity and their desire to show off.
J-C.T.: We did our homework by reviewing all the train films! We even discovered some of them, like Super Express 109, a Japanese film from 1975, of which Speed is the remake.
Alongside the action designed to thrill the youngest viewers, there’s another reading level, with plenty of winks aimed at adults…
J-C.T.: It’s painful to go to the cinema to see an animated film, only to find that the parents are scrolling on their laptops during the screening. Not only are they bored, but there’s no exchange with their kids. We conceived Pets on a Train as a family film, a time for sharing.
B.D.: What counts is the viewer’s immediate pleasure. The subtext and the winks are a bonus. The Chihuahua, whose mistress is an influencer and who makes conspiracy statements, will speak differently to children and to adults. The fact that he’s addicted to sugar, too!
J-C.T.: When live-action films make too many references, viewers feel excluded. Animation films, on the other hand, thrive on winks, and Benoît and I both love them. The more levels of interpretation there are, the wider the audience you reach.
B.D.: We’ve taken care to ensure that the youngest children get attached to the characters, and that find them funny without being bothered by references they don’t understand. The rats’
strip is reminiscent of Chuck Norris, but it works above all through its dynamic and humor. The same goes for Falcon’s lines, inspired by those of Bruce Willis in Die Hard.
Although most of the action takes place on the train, the references to reality and the contemporary world are important and accepted…
B.D.: They’re part of our collective culture, so we couldn’t ignore them, especially when it comes to social networking. There are all these animal videos flooding the Internet. Their exploitation is permanent. We’ve all seen those cats terrorized by cucumbers or slices of cheddar thrown at their heads. Taking inspiration from these videos and showing just how blasé, even disgusted, our heroes are was the way to get a little message across. These are scenes we added to the original script: they make sense and help to lighten the narrative.
J-C.T.: We also added twists and turns to spice up the story. The rhythm of the film is the key to its success. The concept is that of a crazy train that can go off the rails at any moment, so the result has to sparkle. We kept on loading the mule until the animators told us to stop…
B.D.: … Or that we manage to make an idea that’s too crazy on paper feasible on screen.
The climax of the film is the confrontation between Falcon and Hans, the evil badger. Was this the most technically complicated part of the film?
B.D.: The greatest difficulty was the train. The landscapes – in other words, the multiplicity of scenery to be created and animated – pass by through the windows, and the train itself is in constant motion, hugging the tracks while being subjected to slowdowns, accelerations and jolts. Inside the cars, some elements move and others don’t.
J-C.T.: Not to mention all the characters to be handled indoors. We adapted along the way, both in terms of feasibility and narrative logic. Some pets have disappeared: another snake that accompanied Annaconda, a couple of old dogs that had little impact on the story…
Was the pace of production as rock’n’roll as that of the film?
J-C.T.: From one film to the next, I have the impression that everything becomes more complicated. A first feature film means a lot of responsibility, and we learned the rules of the game as we went along. At the time of the animatic, the film had not yet been found and
we had to discuss it again with the producers. This is where the trust between us is crucial: they give us carte blanche to modify the script from as long as the spirit of TAT productions, their family imprint, is respected. They know very well that we won’t go overboard into trash. Pets on a Train Express is a studio film, even if it’s Benoît and I who go to the front!
B.D.: We both knew that the experience would be complex and intense. I didn’t think I’d ever have the opportunity to direct, so I gave it my all.
J-C.T.: You also have to stand up for what you believe in. Take, for example, the fight sequence between Hans and Falcon, set to Beethoven’s 9th Symphony. I had it in mind from the start, and I fought for it in the editing. There are so many animation departments involved that it’s all down to the last frame.
B.D.: This sequence was on the chopping block for a thousand reasons, including economic ones, so I went back to storyboarding to get it through the layout and animating stages. We were convinced that it would be fun and energetic and I think we were right.
How did the co-direction dynamic come about?
J-C.T.: That was a crucial point. The producers warned us right away that we had no interest in getting angry during production! There were a few disagreements, which is normal, but we had the intelligence to listen to each other throughout the process. Benoît and I wanted to see and make the same film.
B.D.: We came off well! Given that Pets on a Train Express is our first animated feature, the stakes were higher than our egos. In Pets on a Train, we find the same themes as in the TAT productions – friendship, solidarity, benevolence – but also a re-examination of class relations…
B.D.: It’s a theme we wanted to emphasize. Falcon is like Robin Hood, he steals to feed his gang: they’re marginal, resourceful people. On the train, he comes face to face with domesticated animals, which is both a privilege and a form of alienation. Rex, the police dog, immediately judges Falcon: he’s a bandit! Class relations are a good narrative spring because they’re a source of conflict: applying them to animals gives rise to humor and a sense of humour, without the need to force the message.
J-C.T.: There’s the paradox that the “luxury” animals are caged, while the marginalized ones are free. They need each other… We wanted each character to have something to defend and not be all at once. Even Hans, the villain, has flaws that can make him touching.
And if you had to choose just one from all this bestiary?
J-C.T.: The South-West duck, a rugby fan.
B.D.: Me too. It didn’t exist in the original script. We wanted to make sure we were rooted in Toulouse [where the film got entirely made] and its accent. It’s already won over a lot of people and we’re proud of it.
An Interview With Co-Writer/Producer Jean-François Tosti
Pets on a Train is co-written with Éric Tosti and David Alaux, with whom you founded TAT. Why is it important for the script to be “in-house”?
With experience, I’m convinced that we can’t write and produce stories that don’t suit us. It’s important for us, as producers, not to let go of the creative aspect. We wanted a film concept that could be pitched in one sentence and based on a strong idea. The English title, Pets on a Train, enabled us to quickly sell the film internationally. It’s not enough to come up with a concept, you have to come up with a story that holds up, that surprises, with twists and turns that aren’t
repetitive, you have to flesh out the characters and give them a narrative arc. This is all the more complex when you’re aiming for a family audience, as all TAT productions are. When we put the first version of the script into animatics, it didn’t work: there were huge problems of rhythm, of tension, so we had to rewrite to find a balance between the stakes of survival and the attachment to the characters. We had to find the right balance between humor, tone and suspense. Once the script had been approved by the financiers, it underwent a number of changes over the course of a year and a half, as it went through the various stages of production.
It was in this rewriting phase that Benoît Daf s and Jean-Christian Tassy were involved…
With David and Eric, we’ve evolved on the subject: as producers, we’re more open to rewriting suggestions, even if we insist on our involvement. It’s important to interact with the directors and to make suggestions. A producer who simply says, “It doesn’t work” is useless. Unless you’re a genius, every director needs a producer who is there to support them and get their hands dirty. On Pets on a Train, this creative dynamic was fundamental. Initially, the action was confined to the train and there were about fifteen characters. With the directors, we sacrificed some of them and created new ones who weren’t on the train: the rat gang, Falcon’s uncles, the journalists in search of sensationalism and the little girl who wants to save her little Ocelot, Maguy. These characters helped to air the story, to take the viewer out of the real time of the action, and to bring in ellipses to energize the narrative.
What is TAT’s policy on choosing one or more directors?
A feature-length animated film takes four years to complete. Our studio always develops three to four films in parallel, which logically leads to a turnover. Having the same director work on every project is not only impossible, but also inappropriate: each film has its own personality, universe and tone. The director’s sensitivity and identification with the project give it its own signature. But that doesn’t mean we can’t work with the same artists several times. Laurent Bru and Yannick Moulin worked on The Jungle Bunch 2 and are currently working on two new films on their own.
Benoît Daffis and Jean-Christian Tassy spontaneously offered to direct Pets on a Train…
The advantage of a studio is that it can launch pre-production on a film as soon as the script is finished, even before it has a director. His role is to tell the story on screen in the best possible way. So we started developing the characters and sets; Benoît was already involved in
character design, he was mentally immersed in the film, and his proposal to make it made sense. A few weeks later, Jean-Christian expressed the same desire to co-direct. We decided to give them a chance.
How did you come up with the idea of choosing a raccoon as protagonist?
We were looking for a thief, a little Robin Hood. Our animal had to be agile, have hands to grab and manipulate lots of objects, and move a bit like a human without falling into anthropomorphism. Even if our characters are humanized, we want them to behave as they do in reality. A raccoon is ideal for all the film’s exploits, especially as it is often thought to be a thief.
Along with David Alaux and Eric Tosti, you were brought up on video club cinema. Does this explain why Pets on a Train is so full of cinephile references?
It’s clearly our most referential film. It’s got Runaway Train, Die Hard, Speed, everything that rocked our teenage years. With Argonuts/Epic Tails, we paid homage to Ray Harryhausen, and in particular to Jason and the Argonauts; with Pets on a Train, we draw on the action cinema of the
80s and 90s. It’s a true action film that can appeal to all types of adults. However, we haven’t abandoned our values, or the themes we hold dear such as solidarity and benevolence. Class relations are also present but there’s no question of moralizing or taking the audience hostage.
So there’s never any cynicism or darkness in your productions?
It’s hard to imagine. There’s always a big part of yourself that shines through in a film. A creative act isn’t abstract, it reflects a sensitivity, an experience. Since the creation of TAT, darkness and nastiness have never been a source of inspiration.
In terms of budget, does Falcon Express compete with the 10 million of Argonuts/Epic Tails?
We’re closer to 12.5 million. Each project has its own budget, but our aim is to have increasingly comfortable budgets. An increase in the cost of a film doesn’t necessarily mean a big technical leap: on Pets on a Train, we paid for the time it took to mature the story and make it.
Our next film, Lovebirds, will cost more, but will be technically more ambitious. The heroine, an Inseparable, will travel all over the United States, to find the love of her life: this means boosting the cursors, in particular on the quality of the animation. Unlike Pets on a Train, the first
visualization of the script worked on the first try.
On the occasion of TAT’s 20th anniversary, you said you were proud of what you’d achieved, and hoped that Argonuts/Epic Tails would be the success that would make all the difference. Have the box-office results opened up new perspectives for you?
Above all, it has enabled us to consolidate our reputation in the marketplace. We’re hoping to do
better than Argonuts/Epic Tails with Pets on a Train. It has the potential, the concept is simpler
and the stakes are more immediate. The action film is aimed spontaneously at those accompanying children. Today, TAT celebrates its 25th anniversary with Asterix & Obelix: The Big Fight on Netflix! The studio has never had so much money on a project, and we had a great time. The working conditions were privileged, we had the opportunity to fine-tune our work, not to mention the creative experience, the recognition and the increased exposure.
Does it make you want to adapt a major comic or novel?
I’d love to! Asterix proved that we were capable of taking on a huge project. I don’t think anyone was disappointed with the visual result. In the future, we also want to continue producing films that reflect our style, based on the studio’s original ideas. We’re also involved in TV series, and are currently developing Pil’s Adventures for France Télévisions – 52 episodes of 13 minutes – featuring the heroine of the feature film. We’re thinking about taking on major licenses, provided they make economic sense, and motivate the whole team. Why not move into adult animation?
Has TAT become a magnet for young talent?
J-F.T.: We receive a lot of CVs, but it’s important to remember the context: animation worldwide is going through a period of crisis. In France, there’s less work than before. We have quite a few projects on the go, and we get a lot of media coverage, which contributes to our attractiveness. And there’s no question of leaving Toulouse – it’s the birthplace of TAT, and experience has shown that we can succeed without being in Paris or fragmenting our teams. Animation remains the audiovisual genre where cooperative work is most fundamental.
What if you had to choose just one animal from Pets on a Train?
J-F.T.: Falcon is my favorite, he’s got it all: super cool, nice but not smooth, benevolent, intrepid. Otherwise, I’m a fan of the duck, it’s super original and from our region!
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Not Without Hope: A True Story of Survival, Loss, and Endurance
Not Without Hope is a harrowing survival thriller directed by Joe Carnahan and co-written by Carnahan and E. Nicholas Mariani, based on the 2010 nonfiction book of the same name by Nick Schuyler and Jeré Longman, which recounts the true story of a tragic boating accident that occurred in February 2009.
Carnahan, known for his gritty, emotionally charged storytelling in films like The Grey and Narc, brings a visceral intensity to this adaptation, which stars Zachary Levi as Nick Schuyler—the sole survivor of the disaster.
The survival thriller Not Without Hope dramatises the true story of Nick Schuyler and three friends whose fishing trip in the Gulf of Mexico turned tragic when their boat capsized in a violent storm. Stranded at sea for 43 hours, only Schuyler survived, clinging to the overturned vessel until rescued by the U.S. Coast Guard. Directed by Joe Carnahan, with Zachary Levi, Josh Duhamel, Quentin Plair, Terrence Terrell, Marshall Cook, JoBeth Williams and NFL players Marquis Cooper and Corey Smith.
The cast also includes Josh Duhamel, JoBeth Williams, Quentin Plair, Terrence Terrell, and Marshall Cook, portraying the close-knit group of friends whose fishing trip turned into a nightmare. Filmed entirely in Malta, the production wrapped in mid-2023, just before the SAG-AFTRA strike, and is slated for release in 2025.
Inspiration & Significance
The inspiration for Not Without Hope lies in the real-life ordeal faced by Schuyler and his three companions—NFL players Marquis Cooper and Corey Smith, and former college football player Will Bleakley. The group set out from Clearwater, Florida, for a routine fishing trip in the Gulf of Mexico, only to be caught in a violent storm that caused their boat to capsize. With the anchor stuck and the vessel overturned, the men were thrown into frigid waters, clinging to the hull for survival. Despite a massive search effort by the U.S. Coast Guard, only Schuyler was rescued after 43 hours at sea. The film dramatises this terrifying experience, focusing not only on the physical struggle but also the emotional toll of loss, guilt, and endurance. Carnahan has described the project as deeply personal and emotionally resonant, aiming to honour the lives lost while capturing the raw truth of survival.
The significance of Not Without Hope extends beyond its survival narrative. At its core, the film is a meditation on friendship, resilience, and the human spirit’s capacity to endure unimaginable trauma. By adapting Schuyler’s memoir, Carnahan offers a cinematic tribute to the fallen athletes and their families, while also exploring the psychological aftermath of being the lone survivor. The film’s title itself—Not Without Hope—serves as both a declaration and a contradiction, reflecting the fragile balance between despair and determination. In a cultural moment where true stories of endurance resonate deeply, the film stands as a reminder of how quickly life can change, and how survival often comes at a profound emotional cost.
Moreover, the film contributes to the growing genre of survival cinema that blends physical peril with emotional introspection. Carnahan’s direction promises a blend of suspense and sensitivity, avoiding sensationalism in favor of authenticity.
Zachary Levi’s portrayal of Schuyler is expected to be a career-defining performance, anchoring the film with vulnerability and strength. Not Without Hope is not just a recounting of tragedy—it’s a cinematic reckoning with fate, friendship, and the haunting question of why some survive while others do not. Through its stark realism and emotional depth, the film invites audiences to confront the limits of endurance and the enduring power of memory.
Joe Carnahan is an American filmmaker known for his gritty, high-octane storytelling and emotionally charged thrillers. Born on May 9, 1969, in Michigan, Carnahan was raised in Northern California and studied film at California State University, Sacramento. He began his career producing short films and television spots for KMAX-TV before breaking into the indie scene with Blood, Guts, Bullets and Octane (1998), a cult hit that premiered at Sundance. He gained wider recognition with Narc (2002), a neo-noir crime drama praised for its raw intensity. Carnahan’s filmography includes Smokin’ Aces, The A-Team, The Grey, and Boss Level, all marked by his signature blend of visceral action and psychological depth. He’s also worked in television, directing and producing episodes of The Blacklist and State of Affairs. Known for his kinetic style and philosophical undercurrents, Carnahan continues to explore themes of survival, masculinity, and moral ambiguity in his work. In 2025, he directed Not Without Hope, a survival thriller based on a true story, further cementing his reputation as a filmmaker drawn to stories of endurance and emotional reckoning.
E. Nicholas Mariani is a screenwriter and former board member of the Writers Guild of America West, recognised for his thoughtful, character-driven narratives. Born in Salt Lake City, Utah, Mariani has contributed to several film and television projects, including The Defender and War Magician. His work often explores themes of resilience, identity, and moral complexity. Mariani co-wrote Not Without Hope with Joe Carnahan, adapting Nick Schuyler’s memoir into a tense, emotionally resonant screenplay. His involvement in the Writers Guild reflects a commitment to the craft and ethics of storytelling, and his screenwriting is marked by a balance of dramatic intensity and psychological nuance.
Nick Schuyler is an American author, motivational speaker, and former college football player whose life was forever changed by a tragic boating accident in 2009. A graduate of the University of South Florida, Schuyler was the sole survivor of a capsized vessel that claimed the lives of his best friend Will Bleakley and NFL players Marquis Cooper and Corey Smith. After enduring 43 hours in the Gulf of Mexico, clinging to the boat’s motor in freezing waters, Schuyler was rescued by the U.S. Coast Guard. His memoir, Not Without Hope, co-authored with Jeré Longman, became a New York Times bestseller and a testament to resilience, friendship, and survival. Today, Schuyler owns Sky Athletix gym in Lutz, Florida, and continues to inspire others through public speaking and charitable work. His story has been adapted into both a documentary and a feature film, reflecting his commitment to honoring the lives of his lost friends and sharing the emotional truth of his experience.
Jeré Longman is a veteran journalist and author, best known for his decades-long career at The New York Times, where he covered international sports, including 15 Olympic Games and numerous World Cups. Born in Louisiana, Longman developed a passion for global storytelling early on, which he channeled into reporting from nearly 60 countries. Before joining The Times in 1993, he worked at newspapers in Philadelphia, Dallas, and Jackson, Mississippi. He has authored six books, including Among the Heroes, a critically acclaimed account of United Flight 93. In 2025, Longman transitioned to the Obituaries desk at The Times, bringing his narrative sensitivity to stories of lives lived. His collaboration with Nick Schuyler on Not Without Hope reflects his ability to blend journalistic rigor with emotional depth, capturing both the tragedy and the triumph of human endurance.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Five Nights at Freddy’s 2: The eerie legacy continues
In 2023, Blumhouse’s box-office horror phenomenon Five Nights at Freddy’s, based on the blockbuster game series by Scott Cawthon, became the highest-grossing horror film of the year. Now, a shocking new chapter of animatronic terror begins. More than one year has passed since the supernatural nightmare at Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza. The stories about what transpired there have been twisted into a campy local legend, inspiring the town’s first ever Fazfest.
Five Nights at Freddy’s 2 is directed by acclaimed returning filmmaker Emma Tammi and is written by game series creator Scott Cawthon.
When Five Nights at Freddy’s opened in October 2023, it quickly became one of the defining box-office stories of the year. The Blumhouse adaptation of Scott Cawthon’s global gaming sensation shattered expectations, earning nearly $300 million worldwide and setting a new benchmark for what a horror game-to-film adaptation could achieve. Beyond its theatrical success, it surged across streaming platforms, inspired waves of fan-made content and cosplay, and demonstrated how powerfully a passionate online community can drive a franchise’s cultural reach.
The success of Freddy’s hinged on its creator’s continued influence. “Scott Cawthon is one of the most thoughtful creators I have ever worked with,” producer Jason Blum says. “He is deeply involved in every part of Five Nights at Freddy’s—the strategy, the business and the creative decisions. What really sets him apart is how connected he is to the fan community. He is constantly thinking about what will surprise them, what will make them happy, and how to honor what they love about the franchise.”
Director Emma Tammi returns to the Five Nights at Freddy’s world with the same focus and atmospheric precision that defined the first film, now applied to a story of greater scale and tension. “The success of the first film felt surreal,” Tammi says. “It came out during the SAG-AFTRA strike, so we did not have a premiere or a shared moment to celebrate. We were all experiencing it separately, but because we were going to theaters and watching it with fans, we got to see them embrace it firsthand. When I felt that energy, it was the first time I realized we might get to make another one.”
Cawthon’s vision and ambition for the new chapter were clear from the beginning. “Scott always envisioned that if there were multiple films, each would connect to its corresponding game: the first film to game one, the second to game two, and so on,” Tammi says. “So, we already had a clear blueprint of what needed to be included, from the setting to the animatronics. Beyond that, it was about blending those game elements with our ongoing story and figuring out how our characters’ arcs would evolve alongside them. It was a balance between honoring the game and deepening the emotional journey of the characters.”
Tammi maintained that balance by grounding every scare in something real. “The balance between being scary and still appealing to a wide audience is something the Five Nights at Freddy’s franchise has always done well,” Tammi says. “The games and books both found that perfect tonal blend, so our challenge was translating it to film and keeping that same spirit alive. I think we struck that balance in the first movie, but this new film really pushes it further.The scares are bigger, and we go to darker places. But the fun factor is dialed up, too. Ultimately, the heart of this story is about finding connection in the face of fear, and that is where the emotional weight comes from.”
Set a year and a half after the events that closed Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza in the first film, Five Nights at Freddy’s 2 unfolds in a town still haunted by that past. Over time, the tragedy has hardened into local folklore, now repackaged as a community event called Fazfest. What begins as playful tribute soon turns to unease as the town’s attempt to celebrate its history unearths something that was never meant to return.
Former security guard Mike (Josh Hutcherson) and police officer Vanessa (Elizabeth Lail) have kept the truth from Mike’s 11-year-old sister, Abby (Piper Rubio), concerning the fate of her animatronic friends. But when Abby sneaks out to reconnect with Freddy, Bonnie, Chica, and Foxy, it will set into motion a terrifying series of events, revealing dark secrets about the true origin of Freddy’s, and unleashing a long-forgotten horror hidden away for decades.
The filmmakers viewed the new chapter as an opportunity to widen the canvas while protecting the intimacy that grounded the first film
“Going into Five Nights at Freddy’s 2, our goal was to make it bigger, scarier and even more fun than the first film,” Blum says. “Those are big expectations to live up to, but Emma and her team have done an incredible job. It is such an honor to continue building this franchise. As the story expands, we have been able to introduce new locations and characters, which have taken the world in exciting new directions. Everyone involved has such genuine passion for the Five Nights at Freddy’s universe, and you can feel that in every frame of the movie.”
Tammi benefitted from returning to a cast and crew already fluent in the Five Nights at Freddy’s universe. “This time, we already had a foundation,” Tammi says. “Everyone knew the characters, the references and had a sense of the world. The challenge was figuring out how to build on that while maintaining everything audiences loved about the first film. We wanted to expand the world, add new characters and push boundaries, but it all had to come together in a way that felt cohesive and dynamic.”
Blum credits Tammi’s leadership for giving this new film both its scope and its emotional clarity. “Emma is a real collaborator,” Blum says. “She brings out the best in everyone and understands the the tone in such a deep way, so we were lucky to have her back to direct this next chapter.”
That clarity shaped the production from the top down. “Emma worked hand-in-hand with every department, laying out exactly what she wanted and how she envisioned it,” executive producer Christopher H. Warner says. “She built a team that really understood her and was fully committed to bringing that vision to life. This movie is bigger in every way. It was a longer shoot, a larger scope and far more ambitious. We spent countless meetings breaking down her ideas and figuring out how to execute them perfectly.”
Five Nights at Freddy’s 2 also broadens the geography of the first film, revealing places fans have never seen before. This gave the filmmakers room to explore new layers of the mythology. “We return to familiar places, but we also uncover new parts of this universe,” executive producer Bea Sequeira says. “There is a second pizzeria, and this time the animatronics step out into the real world. That shift allowed this story to build suspense in exciting new ways.”
Tammi found creative freedom in that expansion. “It was only a matter of time before the animatronics had to leave the pizzeria,” Tammi says. “In the sequel, we meet them in a new location, which is exciting on its own, but then gets even more thrilling when they break out into the real world. Seeing them in everyday settings is both hilarious and terrifying. Staging those moments was one of my favorite parts of making this film.”
By expanding its physical world and deepening its emotional threads, Five Nights at Freddy’s 2 reimagines what the franchise can be while staying rooted in what fans love and expect from it. “We are building on everything that connected with fans the first time, but we are also taking risks,” Tammi says. “It is sharper, scarier and more unpredictable, and every choice was made to pull the audience deeper into this world.”
The Animatronics and Puppets
Jim Henson’s Creature Shop, the world’s premiere creature effects house, returned to design and build the animatronics for Five Nights at Freddy’s 2. The team spent 26 weeks constructing, testing and refining the expanded lineup for the new film.
Five Nights at Freddy’s 2 features nearly three times as many animatronics as the first film. To bring them all to life, the Creature Shop worked in close collaboration with the puppeteering, stunt and visual effects departments.
A new animatronic named Mangle was the most technically complex character created for the film. Built with dozens of interlocking mechanical parts, it required ten puppeteers, multiple stunt performers and coordination across the Creature Shop, visual effects and lighting teams to operate.
Another new addition, the Marionette, was designed as a true puppet rather than animatronic. Several versions were built for different scenes, including radio-controlled, cable-controlled and rod-operated models. The main version was performed by a team of five puppeteers who worked together to create its signature, haunting movement.
Emma Tammi is an American filmmaker born on February 26, 1982, in Middletown, Connecticut. Raised in New York City by actor parents, Tammi developed a deep appreciation for performance and storytelling early on. She graduated from Wesleyan University and began her career in documentary filmmaking, co-directing Fair Chase (2014) and Election Day: Lens Across America (2016), the latter of which she described as her “first horror film” due to its emotional intensity. Her solo feature debut, The Wind (2018), premiered at the Toronto International Film Festival and was praised for its atmospheric tension and feminist take on the Western horror genre. In 2022, Tammi was approached by Blumhouse to direct the film adaptation of Five Nights at Freddy’s, despite having never played the games herself. Her direction brought a moody, character-driven sensibility to the franchise, and the film became Blumhouse’s biggest opening weekend ever, grossing nearly $300 million worldwide. Tammi’s attention to evocative detail and her ability to balance genre thrills with emotional depth have made her one of the most promising voices in contemporary horror. She returns to direct Five Nights at Freddy’s 2, scheduled for release in December 2025, continuing her exploration of haunted spaces and psychological suspense.
Scott Cawthon is an American video game designer, animator, writer, and producer best known as the creator of the Five Nights at Freddy’s franchise. Born on June 4, 1978, in Houston, Texas, Cawthon studied at the Art Institute of Houston, where he honed his skills in computer graphics and animation. A devout Christian, he began his career developing faith-based games and animated films through Hope Animation, including titles like The Pilgrim’s Progress and The Desolate Hope. Despite limited commercial success, Cawthon’s work was noted for its unique art style and allegorical depth. His breakthrough came in 2014 with Five Nights at Freddy’s, a point-and-click survival horror game that turned criticism of his earlier work’s “creepy” characters into a creative advantage. The game’s minimalist mechanics and rich lore sparked a massive online following, leading to multiple sequels, novels, merchandise, and a film adaptation. Cawthon wrote and produced the 2023 Five Nights at Freddy’s movie and co-wrote its sequel, continuing to shape the franchise’s expansion into mainstream media. Though he retired from public game development in 2021 following controversy over political donations, Cawthon remains creatively involved behind the scenes. His work is defined by its blend of psychological horror, moral complexity, and grassroots fandom, making him one of the most influential indie developers of the digital age.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Scarlet – A fusion of animated mythic Japanese storytelling
The Japanese animated fantasy Scarlet, directed and written by Mamoru Hosoda, is a bold new entry in the world of animated cinema, blending fantasy, science fiction, and emotional depth into a visually groundbreaking narrative.
Known for his previous works such as Belle, The Girl Who Leapt Through Time, and Summer Wars, Hosoda once again takes creative reins as both director and screenwriter, crafting a story that centres on a sword-wielding princess named Scarlet who transcends time and space.
The film is produced by Studio Chizu and distributed internationally by Sony Pictures, with a Japanese release handled by Toho.
The inspiration behind Scarlet is rooted in Hosoda’s fascination with classic literature and mythic storytelling
While he has not publicly named the specific source material, he has hinted that the film draws from a “world-famous work on par with Beauty and the Beast,” echoing the approach he took with Belle, which reimagined that tale in a digital age. This time, Scarlet explores themes of life, death, and human connection through the lens of a murdered princess who awakens in a liminal realm between life and death. Racing against time, she must defeat her father’s killer and reach a mythical sanctuary before her soul vanishes forever. The film also features a secondary protagonist, forming a “buddy story” dynamic that deepens emotional resonance and narrative complexity.
Inspired by Shakespeare’s Hamlet, following a medieval princess named Scarlet (voiced by Mana Ashida) who can traverse time and space on a quest to avenge her father’s murder. Gravely injured after failing her mission, she awakens in a surreal “Otherworld” where she meets Hijiri (Masaki Okada), an idealistic young man from the present day. Through him, she glimpses the possibility of a future free from bitterness and rage. Ultimately, Scarlet must confront her father’s killer once more, facing the choice between perpetuating vengeance or breaking the cycle of hatred.
Visually, Scarlet marks a departure from both traditional 2D animation and Hollywood-style CGI.
Hosoda and Studio Chizu are pioneering a new aesthetic approach, aiming for a completely fresh look that matches the film’s scale and thematic ambition. This innovation in animation style is not merely technical—it’s deeply tied to the film’s emotional and narrative goals. The teaser visuals suggest a historical setting, yet the story’s metaphysical and time-bending elements allow it to transcend conventional genre boundaries.
The significance of Scarlet lies in its fusion of mythic storytelling with cutting-edge animation, and its commitment to portraying a strong female protagonist whose journey is both epic and intimate. Scarlet is not just a warrior; she is a symbol of resilience, transformation, and the power of memory. Her quest is not only to survive but to reclaim agency in a world fractured by violence and loss. In this way, the film speaks to universal themes of grief, justice, and the search for sanctuary—both literal and emotional.
Hosoda’s Scarlet stands poised to redefine what animated storytelling can achieve. It is a cinematic fable for a global audience, one that honours tradition while pushing the boundaries of form and feeling. With its December release timed to align with the introspective tone of winter, Scarlet invites viewers into a world where time bends, souls awaken, and stories become sanctuaries.
Mamoru Hosoda is a celebrated Japanese film director and animator, renowned for his emotionally resonant and visually inventive animated features. Born on September 19, 1967, in Kamiichi, Toyama Prefecture, Hosoda grew up in a small town where his early fascination with animation was sparked by classics such as Anne of Green Gables and Galaxy Express 999. He studied oil painting at Kanazawa College of Art, but his passion for storytelling led him to pursue a career in animation. Hosoda began his professional journey at Toei Animation in 1991, contributing as a key animator to iconic series like Dragon Ball Z and Sailor Moon. His breakout moment came with the Digimon Adventure films, which showcased his flair for blending digital themes with heartfelt narratives. After a brief and ultimately aborted collaboration with Studio Ghibli on Howl’s Moving Castle, Hosoda joined Madhouse, where he directed acclaimed works such as The Girl Who Leapt Through Time (2006) and Summer Wars (2009). In 2011, he co-founded Studio Chizu, a creative haven where he continued to explore themes of family, identity, and technology through films like Wolf Children (2012), The Boy and the Beast (2015), Mirai (2018)—which earned an Academy Award nomination—and Belle (2021). Hosoda’s signature style combines lyrical storytelling with cutting-edge animation, often centering on young protagonists navigating emotional and metaphysical transformations. His work is marked by a deep empathy for human relationships and a visionary approach to genre, making him one of the most influential voices in contemporary animation.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Trauma and Myth in Silent Night, Deadly Night
Silent Night, Deadly Night (2025) is a chilling reimagining of the infamous 1984 holiday slasher, written and directed by Mike P. Nelson, known for his work on Wrong Turn and The Domestics.
This latest instalment revives the controversial legacy of the original film, which shocked audiences with its depiction of a killer Santa Claus and sparked widespread protests upon release. Nelson’s version marks the second official remake of the franchise, following the 2012 reimagining by Steven C. Miller. With cinematography by Nick Junkersfeld and music by Blitz//Berlin, the 2025 version promises a visceral blend of psychological horror and holiday dread.
It follows Billy Chapman (Rohan Campbell), who, after witnessing his parents’ brutal murder by a killer dressed as Santa Claus, grows up traumatised and eventually dons the red suit himself—embarking on a violent holiday rampage. Haunted by grief and rage, he transforms into a vengeful “Killer Santa,” leaving a trail of blood-soaked carnage across a small town. As Billy’s spree intensifies, Pamela Varo (Ruby Modine) emerges as a figure of compassion who challenges him to confront his darkness.
The inspiration behind Nelson’s Silent Night, Deadly Night lies in the enduring cult status of the original film and its provocative premise: a child traumatised by witnessing his parents’ murder at the hands of a man dressed as Santa Claus grows up to become a killer himself. Nelson, a lifelong horror enthusiast, was drawn to the challenge of reviving a property that had long been dormant yet remained potent in the public imagination. His vision was not simply to replicate the original’s shock value but to deepen its emotional and psychological layers. In interviews, Nelson has emphasised his desire to explore trauma, repression, and the dark undercurrents of holiday nostalgia. The film’s snowy setting and seasonal iconography serve as ironic counterpoints to the violence and grief at its core, turning familiar symbols into instruments of terror.
What sets the 2025 remake apart is its commitment to practical effects, atmospheric tension, and character-driven storytelling. Nelson’s approach is grounded in realism, avoiding the campiness that often plagues slasher reboots. Billy Chapman is portrayed not as a caricature, but as a deeply damaged individual whose descent into violence is both horrifying and tragically human. The film also introduces new characters and subplots that expand the narrative beyond its original confines, including a psychological investigation into Billy’s past and a community reckoning with its own complicity. By doing so, Silent Night, Deadly Night transcends its exploitation roots and becomes a meditation on generational trauma, moral panic, and the fragility of innocence.
The significance of the 2025 film lies in its reclamation of a once-maligned franchise and its elevation of horror as a vehicle for emotional truth. In an era where genre films increasingly tackle complex themes, Nelson’s remake stands as a testament to the power of horror to confront societal taboos and personal demons. It also reflects a broader trend in contemporary cinema: the re-examination of cult classics through a modern lens, with greater attention to character, context, and consequence.
Silent Night, Deadly Night (2025) is not just a slasher—it’s a ghost story wrapped in tinsel, a brutal elegy for lost innocence, and a reminder that even the most festive myths can conceal unspeakable darkness.
Mike P. Nelson is an American filmmaker known for his gritty, visceral approach to horror and survivalist storytelling. Born as Michael Paul Nelson, he began his career in the film industry as a writer, director, and editor, gradually building a reputation for crafting intense, character-driven genre films. Nelson gained widespread recognition with The Domestics (2018), a post-apocalyptic thriller that showcased his ability to blend emotional depth with brutal action. He followed this with the 2021 reboot of Wrong Turn, which reimagined the cult slasher franchise with a darker, more politically charged narrative, earning praise for its bold departure from formula. In 2023, Nelson contributed to the anthology horror series V/H/S/85, further cementing his place in the contemporary horror landscape. His style is marked by a commitment to practical effects, grounded performances, and thematic explorations of fear, survival, and societal breakdown. With a background in editing and a hands-on approach to production, Nelson brings a tactile intensity to his films, often immersing viewers in bleak, high-stakes environments. As the writer and director of the upcoming Silent Night, Deadly Night (2025), Nelson continues to push boundaries, reviving controversial material with psychological nuance and cinematic flair.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Zero A.D.: A Mother’s Flight Through Faith and Fear
Zero A.D. is an upcoming biblical thriller written by Rod Barr and Alejandro Monteverde, with Monteverde also serving as the film’s director.
Known for his emotionally charged and spiritually resonant storytelling, Monteverde previously directed Sound of Freedom, and Zero A.D. marks his third collaboration with Angel Studios.
Originally titled Bethlehem, the film was later renamed to reflect its historical and spiritual setting, anchoring the story in the year of Christ’s birth. Set against the backdrop of the Massacre of the Innocents as described in the Gospel of Matthew, Zero A.D. follows a young Virgin Mary as she desperately protects her child, Jesus, from the wrath of King Herod—a ruler consumed by fear of a prophecy that foretells the rise of a new king. The film stars Deva Cassel as Mary, with a powerful supporting cast including Sam Worthington, Ben Mendelsohn, Gael García Bernal, and Jim Caviezel, who portrays Herod the Great.
The inspiration behind Zero A.D. lies in Monteverde’s desire to reframe familiar biblical narratives through the lens of suspense and human vulnerability. Rather than presenting a traditional religious epic, the film is described as a “spiritual thriller,” blending historical drama with psychological tension. Monteverde and Barr were drawn to the emotional intensity of the Massacre of the Innocents—a brutal decree by Herod to eliminate all male infants in Bethlehem in an attempt to kill the prophesied Messiah. This moment in scripture, often overshadowed by the nativity’s peaceful imagery, becomes the emotional and thematic core of the film. By focusing on Mary’s maternal instinct and the terror of being hunted, Zero A.D. transforms a sacred story into a visceral survival tale, one that resonates with modern audiences through its portrayal of courage, sacrifice, and faith under fire.
The significance of Zero A.D. extends beyond its narrative. It represents a bold shift in how biblical stories are told on screen, moving away from grandiose spectacle toward intimate, character-driven drama. Monteverde’s approach humanises iconic figures, inviting viewers to see Mary not just as a religious symbol but as a young mother facing unimaginable danger. This emotional grounding makes the story more accessible and impactful, especially for audiences who may not be familiar with or connected to its religious origins. Additionally, the film’s release—scheduled for December 19, 2025—positions it as a counterpoint to traditional holiday fare, offering a darker, more contemplative reflection on the meaning of Christmas and the cost of divine prophecy.
Visually, Zero A.D. promises a rich cinematic experience, with principal photography taking place in Morocco to capture the arid landscapes and ancient architecture that evoke first-century Judea. The film’s aesthetic, combined with its suspenseful tone, sets it apart from other faith-based projects, aiming to appeal to both religious and secular audiences.
Ultimately, Zero A.D. is a testament to the power of storytelling that bridges history, spirituality, and human emotion. Through Monteverde’s direction and Barr’s writing, the film seeks to illuminate the shadows of scripture and reveal the light that emerges from faith, fear, and the fight for survival.
Alejandro Monteverde is a Mexican-American filmmaker celebrated for his emotionally driven and visually rich storytelling. Born on July 13, 1977, in Tampico, Mexico, Monteverde studied film at the University of Texas at Austin and quickly made a name for himself with his debut feature Bella (2006), which won the People’s Choice Award at the Toronto International Film Festival. His subsequent films, including Little Boy (2015), Sound of Freedom (2023), and Cabrini (2024), showcase his talent for blending spiritual themes with cinematic intensity. Monteverde’s work often centers on stories of resilience, faith, and human dignity, earning him accolades from institutions like the Smithsonian and the White House. He is also a recipient of the “Outstanding American by Choice” award from U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services. Married to actress Ali Landry since 2006, Monteverde is a father of three and a passionate advocate for storytelling that bridges cultural divides. His films, distributed by Angel Studios, have become touchstones in independent cinema, known for their emotional impact and social relevance.
Rod Barr is an American screenwriter and creative force whose storytelling blends emotional depth with spiritual resonance. A Princeton graduate with a background in English and music, Barr’s career has spanned young adult fiction, video game development, and ultimately screenwriting, where he found his true calling. He gained recognition for writing Sound of Freedom (2023), a controversial yet commercially successful film tackling child trafficking, and continued his collaboration with director Alejandro Monteverde on Cabrini (2024), a biopic about the first American saint, Frances Xavier Cabrini. Barr’s writing is marked by a commitment to underdog narratives and transcendent themes like hope, determination, and service. His ability to humanize historical and religious figures has made him a standout voice in faith-based and socially conscious cinema. Deeply spiritual and creatively disciplined, Barr approaches each project with a blend of artistic intuition and rigorous craft, aiming to tell stories that resonate across cultures and beliefs.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Anaconda Reimagined for a New Generation
Anaconda (2025) is a bold reimagining of the cult 1997 horror film, directed by Tom Gormican and co-written by Gormican and his frequent collaborator Kevin Etten.
Rather than a straightforward remake, the 2025 version pivots into action-comedy horror territory, blending nostalgia with satire. The film follows a group of childhood friends, now grappling with mid-life crises, who venture into the rainforest to recreate their favorite movie from youth—only to encounter real dangers that mirror the absurdity of their cinematic obsession.
Doug McCallister (Jack Black) and Ronald “Griff” Griffen Jr. (Paul Rudd), lifelong friends stuck in midlife crises, decide to relive their youth by traveling deep into the Amazon to shoot an amateur remake of their favorite movie—Anaconda. What begins as a lighthearted, chaotic adventure quickly spirals into terror when a real giant anaconda emerges from the jungle. Their playful film project turns into a deadly fight for survival, forcing Doug, Griff, and their companions—including Kenny Trent (Steve Zahn), Claire Simons (Thandiwe Newton), Ana Almeida (Daniela Melchior), and snake handler Santiago Braga (Selton Mello)—to confront both the monstrous predator and their own fears. As the line between parody and reality blurs, the friends must decide whether their dream of remaking a cult classic is worth dying for.
The inspiration behind this reboot stems from both the enduring legacy of the original Anaconda and the creative team’s penchant for self-aware storytelling.
Gormican and Etten were drawn to the idea of exploring how pop culture shapes identity and memory, especially as people age. By framing the narrative around characters who idolized the original film, the writers cleverly comment on the way nostalgia can blur the line between fiction and reality. Paul Rudd, one of the film’s stars, described the project as “a totally unique thing” that’s “certainly inspired by and loved the movie Anaconda from the ’90s, but it’s not a remake”. This approach allows the film to honour its roots while carving out a fresh identity, much like Massive Talent did for Nicolas Cage’s career. The significance of Anaconda (2025) lies in its genre-bending ambition and its commentary on the evolution of horror franchises. By infusing humor and self-awareness into a traditionally serious and suspenseful premise, the film challenges the conventions of monster movies. It also reflects a broader trend in Hollywood toward reboots that are less about replication and more about reinvention. The casting of comedic heavyweights like Jack Black and Paul Rudd, alongside dramatic talents such as Thandiwe Newton and Daniela Melchior, signals a deliberate tonal blend that aims to appeal to both longtime fans and new audiences.
Moreover, the film’s release on December 25, 2025, positions it as a holiday blockbuster with cross-generational appeal. Its production, which took place in Australia, adds a layer of authenticity to the jungle setting, while the ensemble cast brings emotional depth and comedic timing to a story that could easily veer into parody. By anchoring the absurdity in real human experiences—aging, friendship, regret—the film elevates itself beyond creature-feature tropes.
In essence, Anaconda (2025) is more than just another entry in a long-running franchise. It’s a reflection on the power of movies to shape our lives, the absurdity of nostalgia, and the creative possibilities that emerge when filmmakers dare to subvert expectations. Gormican and Etten’s vision transforms a once-feared snake into a symbol of personal reckoning and cinematic reinvention.
Tom Gormican is an American filmmaker, screenwriter, and producer known for his sharp wit and genre-blending storytelling. A graduate of Brown University, Gormican began his career in indie film production before making his directorial debut with That Awkward Moment (2014), a romantic comedy starring Zac Efron, Miles Teller, and Michael B. Jordan. He gained wider acclaim with The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent (2022), a meta-action comedy starring Nicolas Cage as a fictionalized version of himself. Gormican co-wrote the film with longtime collaborator Kevin Etten, showcasing their shared flair for self-aware humor and inventive narratives. Beyond film, Gormican also co-created the Fox TV series Ghosted (2017–2018), further cementing his reputation for blending comedy with genre elements. His work often explores identity, fame, and absurdity, delivered with a balance of heart and satire.
Kevin Etten is an American screenwriter and television producer whose career spans late-night comedy, network dramas, and genre-bending films. He began as a writer for The Late Show with David Letterman before moving into scripted television, contributing to acclaimed series such as Scrubs, Desperate Housewives, Reaper, and Workaholics. A Harvard graduate and former editor of The Harvard Lampoon, Etten’s comedic instincts and narrative versatility have earned him two Golden Globe nominations, including a win for Desperate Housewives in 2006. His collaboration with Tom Gormican on The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent marked his transition into feature filmmaking, where his knack for character-driven humor and meta storytelling found a new platform. Etten’s work is defined by its clever dialogue, emotional nuance, and ability to balance satire with sincerity across both television and film.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on The Twisted World of The Housemaid
The Housemaid is a psychological thriller film directed by Paul Feig and written by Rebecca Sonnenshine, adapted from the bestselling 2022 novel by Freida McFadden.
Based on the Freida McFadden book of the same name that topped global bestseller lists and dropped jaws with its shock twists, director Paul Feig builds a world of picture-perfect elegance atop so many layers of deceit they can only come crashing down spectacularly.
Feig is renowned for the female-led classics like Bridesmaids (Original Screenplay and Supporting Actress, 2011). Here, he turns the tables on the bleak revenge thriller with a sumptuous beauty and all-out sense of entertainment that is nevertheless sharply pointed.
“The delicious fun of this story comes from just how extreme it gets. I always saw The Housemaid as a Nancy Meyers movie gone horribly wrong,” explains Feig, referring to Meyers’ signature playful romances set inside the lightest, brightest, most effortlessly idyllic of homes. “That idea inspired everything from the production design to the whole way we played it. Tension, scares, and humor constantly intertwine in this story, and it was a dream bringing that to life.”
Feig zeroed in on engineering power dynamics that are so topsy-turvy audiences are repeatedly switching whose side they are on…and asking themselves which tantalizing fairy tale they’re buying into. “I love a story that makes you think about what you root for and what you don’t,” Feig says. “It puts a spotlight on the judgments we make about people, situations, and what we think we want. Sometimes, when you finally see the reality underneath things, it upends your whole view of how the world works.”
As for how he controlled a narrative meticulously designed to fly madly off the rails, Feig invokes Hitchcock. “Hitchcock said it’s like pulling a string. If you pull the string too far it breaks and if you don’t pull it enough it sags. We set out to see just how far we could pull the string of this world without it snapping.”
The film’s producers saw Feig as the consummate match for a story that calls at once for pop-cinema style and wicked psychological games. “Paul is great at blending genres, as he’s shown in A Simple Favor and Another Simple Favor. We loved his vision for The Housemaid, and we loved how he made the film into a twisty tale of empowerment,” says producer Todd Lieberman. “For audiences who haven’t read the book, the story will blow them away. And for fans who have, they’re in for a deeply satisfying ride.”
Laura Fischer, Feig’s producing partner at Pretty Dangerous Pictures, adds, “What people loved about the book and will love in the movie is the twists never stop coming. Paul played with that in the most entertaining way possible.”
The Housemaid is a wildly entertaining thriller starring Sydney Sweeney and Amanda Seyfried, based on the best-selling book. From director Paul Feig, the film plunges audiences into a twisted world where perfection is an illusion, and nothing is as it seems. Trying to escape her past, Millie (Sweeney) accepts a job as a live-in housemaid for the wealthy Nina (Seyfried) and Andrew Winchester (Brandon Sklenar). But what begins as a dream job quickly unravels into something far more dangerous — a sexy, seductive game of secrets, scandal, and power. Behind the Winchesters’ closed doors lies a world of shocking twists that will leave you guessing until the very end.
The inspiration for The Housemaid stems directly from McFadden’s novel, which became a viral sensation for its gripping plot and psychological twists
McFadden, a practising medical doctor specialising in brain injury, drew on her understanding of human behaviour and trauma to craft a story that explores themes of class disparity, emotional manipulation, and survival.
“The Housemaid is ultimately the story of escaping a trap, which is something that’s always intrigued me,” says McFadden. “We all feel for someone in a trap, and we all want to see how they might get out.”
A Harvard graduate and physician who treats brain injuries, McFadden first turned to writing as a creative outlet amid the stress of medical school, going on to publish several indie thrillers. But the reaction to The Housemaid erupted on a whole other level when, overnight in 2022, the novel entered cultural phenomenon territory. With readers calling the book a joyful addiction, it passed like wildfire from hand to hand.
The novel went on to sell over 3.5 million copies, spend more than 130 weeks — and counting — on The New York Times Bestseller List, and be translated into 45 different languages. But even before that happened, Lieberman and Elter, sensing the book’s blockbuster potential, approached McFadden for the movie rights. “I really didn’t see all that was coming,” McFadden admits. “It was just surreal.”
To tackle adapting McFadden’s intricate mind games into an intensely visceral and visual ride, the filmmakers turned to screenwriter Rebecca Sonnenshine.
The screenplay’s unusually high-spirited tone for a psychological thriller, the way the boldness constantly offset the darkness, grabbed Feig instantly on first read. “It’s not a comedy, but audiences will laugh, mostly because they’ll be thinking ‘I can’t believe they just did that’ or they’re so excited that something they hoped would happen does finally happen. And I loved that quality Rebecca brought to it,” he says.
In fact, Sonnenshine nailed something that Feig had long been in search of for a film verging on horror territory without slipping into bleakness. Feig had felt tugged towards the creative thrills of scary movies, but he absolutely did want to go dour. This script nailed the vibrancy for which he’d long been searching. “I love thrillers, but they can get very full of themselves,” Feig observes. “For me, the minute you subtract the fun out of stuff, it becomes less interesting.”
Sonnenshine had already demonstrated rare instincts for pushing commonplace tropes in defiantly fresh and fun directions with the lauded superhero series “The Boys,” which unraveled an action-packed comic book universe into a stunning and timely examination of how power works. For The Housemaid, Sonnenshine’s job was to transfer the novel’s nerve-jolting shifts onto the screen. But equally vital to Sonnenshine was tapping into the universality of Millie’s dilemma, her desperation to find new hope for her life even as it threatens to turn into the stuff of bad dreams.
“Who hasn’t had to deal with a toxic boss or stayed in a job out of sheer desperation?” Sonnenshine reflects. “We can all relate to Millie. But also, I think we’ve all had a person in our life who seems to be one thing, but then things flip, and they betray you. I think that’s part of why so many were drawn to this book. It reminds us of the bad boss, but also that person you liked who turned into your worst nightmare.”
As she began organizing the story’s seen and unseen layers, Sonnenshine had a blast with the characters trading places, allowing each their moment to be profoundly empathetic and unknowable. “You root for Millie at first,” Sonnenshine notes. “But then you start questioning everyone’s motives, including Millie’s. Is anyone a reliable narrator? That’s one of the story’s big mysteries.”
Says Lieberman, “The brilliance of the book was the way it kept you guessing without ever letting up. Rebecca distilled that feeling, along with the novel’s most compelling, essential moments, into something distinctly cinematic.”
Adds Fischer, “Paul and I felt like we got to fall in love twice in rapid succession with this project: first with the novel and then with the screenplay. There were so many great and nuanced details in both that Paul was able to mine.”
In Sonnenshine’s sly construction, the novel’s potent themes, from class warfare to the illusory nature of self-image, all hinged on the vertical layout of the Winchesters’ multi-story home — and her scrambling of the traditional upstairs-downstairs divide. Equally key was poking just enough holes in what the audience believes about what they are seeing to keep them perpetually off guard.
“The script needed to first build strong emotional connections with each character and set the stakes,” notes Sonnenshine. “But at the same time, there are subtle hints from the start that no one is revealing their full truth, which keeps the audience on their toes.”
Beyond the home front, Millie finds the Winchesters are surrounded by a dishy, judgy, posh social circle who further blur the family’s tangled history with their speculative gossip. “The moment Nina leaves the room, the other moms in the neighborhood are like a nest of vipers,” muses Sonnenshine, “and Millie is always listening, gaining new information from them.”
But even the town’s scandalmongers aren’t seeing the full family picture. “In this story, you have to be wary of everyone and everything you hear,” warns Sonnenshine.
McFadden appreciated Sonnenshine’s stealth approach to building anxiety, and the results thrilled her. “Reading Rebecca’s script, I got chills. All the changes they made worked,” says the novelist. “Some were so good, I wished they were in the book.”
For McFadden, the match of Feig with the material was perfect to imbue the story with fresh layers. She loved his vision of leaning into the Winchesters’ sumptuous surfaces and social graces only to dissolve them into exhilarating chaos. “I’ve loved all of Paul’s films. Bridesmaids, A Simple Favor, and his Ghostbusters reboot brought me great joy, and his sense of humor aligns with my own style,” she concludes. “The important thing is that Paul knew exactly how to create a train wreck from which you can’t look away.”
As the movie’s ever-changing guessing game amps up, the elegant ease of the Winchester’s world fractures, then implodes, while Feig craftily employs every element of filmmaking to reverse the very atmosphere he so painstakingly fostered. The ravishing visuals and larger-than-life performances, along with a killer soundtrack and moments that will have audiences gasping in unison, combine to make The Housemaid a quintessential big-screen movie.
Sums up Feig, “Audiences are going to have a lot of fun watching this movie together because those communal reactions are something you just can’t get in your living room. We really engineered this film for an audience to respond to live and in the moment. I’m excited for people to have that experience.”
PAUL FEIG (Director; Producer)
Paul Feig is a DGA Award-winning and Primetime Emmy®-nominated filmmaker, writer, producer, and author known for his signature style and keen eye for talent. His versatile work spans multiple formats and genres, with his films alone grossing over one billion dollars at the worldwide box office.
Feig directed Another Simple Favor, the sequel to his 2018 thriller, which Prime Video released on May 1, 2025. Feig has helmed some of the most successful and beloved comedies of the past two decades. Bridesmaids, the massive box-office hit starring Kristen Wiig, Rose Byrne, Maya Rudolph, Melissa McCarthy, and Jon Hamm, grossed over $283 million worldwide and earned Academy Award® nominations for Best Supporting Actress and Best Original Screenplay, as well as Golden Globe® nominations for Best Motion Picture – Musical or Comedy and Best Actress in a Motion Picture – Comedy. He followed that success with The Heat, a buddy cop comedy starring Sandra Bullock and Melissa McCarthy that grossed over $220 million globally, and Spy, an action-comedy starring Melissa McCarthy, Jude Law, Jason Statham, and Rose Byrne, which earned two Golden Globe® nominations. His other films include The School for Good and Evil, a Netflix fantasy adventure that debuted as the #1 film globally in its week of release, and Jackpot!, an action-comedy starring John Cena, Awkwafina, and Simu Liu for Amazon Studios, which was #1 globally on Prime Video for four straight weeks. Feig also directed Last Christmas, a holiday film written by Emma Thompson and starring Emilia Clarke and Henry Golding, as well as A Simple Favor, a stylish thriller starring Anna Kendrick, Blake Lively, and Henry Golding. In 2016, he helmed Ghostbusters, the reboot starring Melissa McCarthy, Kristen Wiig, Kate McKinnon, and Leslie Jones, which won Favorite Movie at the 2017 Nickelodeon Kids’ Choice Awards.
On television, Feig is renowned for creating “Freaks and Geeks,” the beloved and critically acclaimed series that earned him two Primetime Emmy® nominations for Outstanding Writing for a Comedy Series. He also served as a director and co-executive producer on “The Office,” earning two Primetime Emmy® nominations and winning the 2009 DGA Award for Outstanding Directorial Achievement in a Comedy Series. His sci-fi comedy “Other Space” premiered in 2015 and is now available on DUST.
Feig is the founder of Feigco Entertainment, which has an overall deal with Lionsgate TV. The company specializes in developing edgy and commercial comedies with an emphasis on complex female lead characters. Through Feigco, he has produced films such as Snatched, starring Amy Schumer and Goldie Hawn, and the Netflix romantic comedy Someone Great, as well as television projects including Zoey’s Extraordinary Playlist and Zoey’s Extraordinary Christmas, Love Life starring William Jackson Harper and Jessica Williams, “Minx” starring Ophelia Lovibond and Jake Johnson for HBO Max, and “Welcome to Flatch” for Lionsgate TV. In addition, Feig launched Powderkeg, a digital content company dedicated to championing underrepresented voices, with a commitment to female, LGBTQIA+, and BIPOC creators. Powderkeg’s projects include the Muslim-American digital short form series “East of La Brea”and the Powderkeg: Fuse program, which produced six short films written and directed by diverse female filmmakers.
Beyond entertainment, Feig created the award-winning gin brand Artingstall’s, which launched in the U.S. and U.K. and won Best Gin and Double Gold at the 2019 WSWA competition. During the 2020 lockdown, he hosted Quarantine Cocktail Time on Instagram, which later inspired a cocktail book released in fall 2022.
Throughout his career, Feig has been recognized for his contributions to film and television. He was selected as the Distinguished Artist for the American Film Institute Conservatory’s Directing Workshop for Women, and was the recipient of the first-ever Artemis Action Rebel Award in 2016. That same year, he received the inaugural Athena Leading Man Award at the Athena Film Festival in recognition of his advocacy for women in film, becoming the first man to be honored by the festival. In 2019, he was presented with the Spirit of the Industry Award by the National Alliance of Theater Owners.
REBECCA SONNENSHINE (Screenwriter)
Screenwriter Rebecca Sonnenshine is an American writer and producer. A graduate of UCLA School of Theater, Film and Television, she was the recipient of the Nicholl Fellowship in Screenwriting and has attended the Film Independent Directors Lab and the Berlinale Talent Campus.
Rebecca wrote the screenplay for The Keeping Hours which was produced by Blumhouse and recently won The Audience Award at the LA Film Festival. Rebecca was the Showrunner on “Archive 81” for Netflix and was an executive producer on “The Boys” at Amazon for Sony, for which she received a Primetime Emmy® nomination for Outstanding Writing for a Drama Series for one of her episodes.
Sonnenshine produced the feature film Reversion (2008) which had its premiere at the Sundance Film Festival, and Bunny (2000), which was nominated for a Spirit Award. Additional producing credits include “The Crossing”and “Outcast.”This summer, Rebecca is the Showrunner on “Little House on the Prairie” for Netflix, with Joy Coalition and Anonymous Content producing.
FREIDA McFADDEN (Book Author; Executive Producer)
Freida McFadden is a bestselling American author known for her gripping psychological thrillers and medical-themed suspense novels. A practicing physician specializing in brain injury, McFadden seamlessly weaves psychological depth into her stories, creating page-turners filled with unexpected twists.
With multiple bestsellers to her name, McFadden has solidified herself as a master of domestic thrillers. McFadden gained widespread recognition with her hit novel The Housemaid (2022), which became a viral sensation, leading to two sequels: The Housemaid’s Secret (2023) and The Housemaid Is Watching (2024). Some of her other books include The Coworker, Never Lie, The Inmate, The Teacher,and One by One. While her books often draw from themes of deception, manipulation, and hidden secrets, Freida has also written several medically inspired thrillers, such as Brain Damage and The Locked Door, which reflect her expertise in neurology and brain injury.
Freida’s work has been selected as one of Amazon Editors’ best books of the year, she is the winner of the International Thriller Writers Award for Best Paperback, and she is a Goodreads Choice Award winner. Beyond her literary successes, McFadden has been lauded for her contributions to literature, with her novels consistently appearing as #1 on bestseller lists (The New York Times, Amazon Charts, USA Today, The Wall Street Journal, The Washington Post, The Sunday Times, and Publisher’s Weekly), earning praise from both critics and readers alike. To date, her novels have been translated into 40 languages.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Glitter, Redemption, and Pantomime: The Heart of Tinseltown
In Tinsel Town, a fading Hollywood action star accidentally signs on for a Christmas pantomime in the quiet English town of Stoneford. With a premise as delicious as a cup of eggnog, it’s the perfect blend of comedy, carnage and Christmas.
“I’m a huge Eighties and Nineties action movie fan and I’m a huge musical theatre fan,” remarks producer Matt Williams. “And this was a script that took to extremities what I love about entertainment.”
Written by Frazer Flintham and Adam Brown, Tinsel Town centres around the very theatrical world of Christmas pantos, with Dames and Dad Jokes aplenty.
“It was a brilliant idea,” adds Williams. “It was obvious that it was a film that needed to be made.” Straight away, he sent it to his regular collaborators over at Sky Originals, with whom he’d already made the 2021 festive movie Last Train To Christmas. The script was met with similar enthusiasm, and the production began to take shape.
Needing a talented director to bring this to life, Williams contacted Chris Foggin, his collaborator on the hugely popular Bank of Dave (2023) and Bank of Dave 2: The Loan Ranger (2025).
Raised in Britain’s northeast, Foggin grew up watching pantomimes every year at the Sunderland Empire. “I’m a big fan of panto,’” he says. “I’ve seen them all. Beauty and the Beast, Cinderella. I think that they’re a good British tradition. They keep theatres alive.”
For Foggin, he kept coming back to one word during the making of Tinsel Town: heartwarming. “Heartwarming is the word I used constantly. How can I make this more heartwarming?” says the director, who says he drew on the family-friendly spirit of films like Paddington and Nativity. “If it brings people together to watch it, I’ll be so pleased,” he adds. “I hope it resonates with families. That’s what I set out to do.” Matt Williams agrees. “It’s emotional, yet it’s funny,” the producer says. “It’s got laughter, dance, comedy, sadness…everything you need at Christmas.”
Brad Mac (Kiefer Sutherland) is a self-absorbed Hollywood movie star, famed for the action franchise ‘Killing Time’. But when the series is retired, he is forced to look for a new challenge. His agent sends him to do theatre in the U.K., but to his dismay, he soon discovers that this is not Shakespeare on the London stage. Cast as Buttons in Cinderella, Brad is horrified to learn he’s contractually bound to a pantomime – a British tradition he’s never even heard of. But as he meets the townsfolk of Stoneford, all of whom are devoted to this annual British Christmas tradition, Brad is forced to leave his ego in check. Can he pull off a panto and bring the local community together? Oh no he can’t! Oh yes he can!
With the script needing further finessing, Williams and Foggin brought in Piers Ashworth, who had not only worked on the Bank of Dave movies but also on two other celebrated feel-good British films, the Williams-produced Save the Cinema (2022) and the Foggin-directed Fisherman’s Friends (2019). Ashworth received the script just as Bank of Dave 2 was finishing up, offering him the chance to return to familiar themes, this time in a story with Christmas at its heart.
“It’s about the power of community,” says Ashworth. “And that was what Bank of Dave was about. That was what Save the Cinema was about. That was what Fisherman’s Friends was about. And it’s not just how great it is to build a community, but it’s about people standing up for each other and standing together against external pressures.
Here, maybe they’re standing up against the commercialisation of Christmas, that that somehow lessens the joy of Christmas.”
Joining up with Williams, fellow producer Pascal Degove notes: “It’s a typical fish-out of-water story with the main character, Brad Mac, a washed-out Hollywood star trying to revive his career, and he thinks he’s going to be on stage in London, like a lot of big American stars do, to show their craft.”
For Degove, it makes for the perfect family entertainment. “It’s something I’d want to watch with my kids every Christmas.”
At its core is the very Anglo-centric tradition of pantomime, says Ashworth. “You just say ‘pantomime’ and people have an image in their heads of what it is. And of course, there’s good pantomimes and bad pantomimes. But in a way the nice thing about that part of English culture…the bad pantomimes are almost better than the good ones, because you’re almost expecting it to be slightly bad. You’re almost expecting things to go wrong!”
Crafting the Musical Numbers
To craft the musical numbers, the production brought in choreographer Adam Crossley. As soon as he read the script, Crossley was smitten. “I thought ‘This is my kind of humour. This is something I can really get on board with. I really want to be a part of this.’” Recruiting regular collaborator Lydia Bradd as his assistant choreographer, Crossley immediately began working on the dance numbers. “There was inspiration from the script already,” Crossley adds, noting they drew on both traditional “panto elements” as well as the “music video” format. “We go a bit hyperreal in what it is that we’re doing.”
Chris Foggin – Director Chris Foggin’s latest film, Bank of Dave 2, recently released on Netflix to great fanfare and immediately took the No 1 spot in the UK – it also heralded a return to the top 10 of its predecessor Bank of Dave (which Chris also directed). Additional feature work includes This is Christmas and Kids in Love. Shorts include That Night and Friend Request Pending. On the TV front, his work includes “Cold Feet” and lead director on second series of crime drama “Traces” for ITV/Quay Street. Chris was named as a UK Stars of Tomorrow by Screen International in 2014.
Piers Ashworth – Writer Piers Ashworth is a British-born screenwriter, producer, and director. His most recent feature The Bank of Dave. He co-wrote hit film Fisherman’s Friends (available on Amazon) and its sequel Fisherman’s Friends: One and All. It has also been turned into a hit musical. Along with regular collaborators Nick Moorcroft and Meg Leonard Piers adapted the Noël Coward play Blithe Spirit for producer Peter Snell with Canal+ and Protagonist for release on Sky Cinema. His feature Save the Cinema was released on Sky Cinema in 2021. Piers is also known for writing the St Trinian’s films (the first of which went on to become the second highest grossing independent feature ever made in the UK) and Burke and Hare.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on My Cousin’s Big Fat Durban Wedding
My Cousin’s Big Fat Durban Wedding is a vibrant new South African comedy that celebrates the chaos, charm, and cultural richness of Indian weddings in Durban.
Directed and written by Theshan Naicker, and produced by Sheila Power Productions, the film draws inspiration from the genre-defining My Big Fat Greek Wedding, but reimagines the formula through a distinctly South African lens—infused Produced and directed by the owner of Sheila Power Productions and the creator of Aunty Sheila.
Actor Theshen Naicker is excited to present his first movie, directed, produced and written by himself. When he began this journey every one said that it was an impossible task to be the writer, producer, director and lead actor but this was always a dream of Theshen Naicker to make his own movie before he turned 40 and it’s now a dream that has been realised.
The movie was born from an encounter with an Indian bride who was marrying a Zulu man. This made Theshen realize that Durban is the home of the Bunny Chow and also the Zulu kingdom.
“Why haven’t we made a movie that brought these two dominant cultures together in love and marriage. Nothing sounds and looks more like Durban than this movie… ‘
My cousin’s Big Fat Durban wedding is about Kieran, a reality star, who is tasked with planning his favourite cousin Anushka wedding in three weeks’ time. The only problem is that nobody knows anything about this mystery groom, and once he is revealed, the drama unfolds.
There is a deep dark secret that has the potential to tear apart this loving family. Will Kieran keep quiet and allow his cousin to marry and make the biggest mistake of her life… Or will Kieran expose the truth and ruin the dream of Anushkas fairy tale wedding and potentially tear up the family.
Durban, with its deep-rooted Indian heritage and vibrant wedding culture, becomes more than just a setting—it’s a character in itself. The city’s blend of coastal beauty, bustling neighbourhoods, and rich cultural rituals provides fertile ground for storytelling. Videos like Desi Wedding Day Celebrations in Durban and Indian Wedding Highlights: Reception Moments in Durban offer glimpses into the kind of visual and emotional tapestry the film likely draws from: ornate attire, rhythmic dance, and the joyful chaos of extended family converging for a once-in-a-lifetime event.
At the heart of the film is the cousin dynamic—often the emotional glue in wedding stories. Whether it’s the mischievous confidant, the unexpected romantic twist, or the one who’s just trying to keep the peace, cousins bring both comedy and catharsis. The emotional depth of this relationship is beautifully echoed in Heartwarming Cousin Surprise at My Mehndi | Indian …, where familial love and surprise become cinematic moments in their own right. Similarly, Matcha with the Cousins in Durban captures the playful, contemporary cousin bond that likely fuels the film’s comedic tone.
The film also taps into the universal appeal of wedding spectacle. From the mehndi to the reception, every ritual is an opportunity for storytelling. Joyful Moments at a Beautiful Wedding Celebration and
There’s nothing like a Big Fat Indian Wedding ❤️ #wedding … showcase the grandeur and emotional highs that define the genre—moments that are both deeply personal and wildly theatrical.
In a cinematic landscape hungry for local stories with global resonance, My Cousin’s Big Fat Durban Wedding arrives as a celebration of identity, tradition, and the messy beauty of family. It’s a film that promises laughter, heart, and a soundtrack of aunties gossiping, uncles dancing, and cousins scheming—all wrapped in the glittering fabric of a Durban wedding. Whether you’re from Chatsworth or Cape Town, Mumbai or Mississauga, the film invites you to pull up a chair, grab a plate of biryani, and witness the spectacle of love, legacy, and laughter—Durban style.
Theshan Naicker is a South African entertainer, filmmaker, and writer known for his vibrant contributions to local comedy and stage productions. He gained recognition for his work on films such as Broken Promises 4-Ever (2018), The Curse of Highway Sheila (2014), and the upcoming Broken Promises 5: Vengeance (2024). His creative voice blends humor, cultural commentary, and a deep connection to Durban’s Indian community.
Naicker is also the creator of the beloved character Aunty Sheila, a comedic alter ego who has become a staple in his sketches and stage work. In 2022, he debuted his first pantomime production, Sunda-rella, at the Globe at Suncoast—a Cinderella-inspired tale with an Indian twist that emphasized women’s empowerment and reimagined fairy tale tropes for his young nieces. The production featured elaborate costumes, a cast of 30, and a strong message of self-reliance and joy.
As a filmmaker, Naicker continues to expand his storytelling canvas. His latest project, My Cousin’s Big Fat Durban Wedding, promises to be a vibrant celebration of family, tradition, and comedic chaos, set against the rich cultural backdrop of Durban. With a growing portfolio of stage and screen work, Naicker is carving out a unique space in South African entertainment—one that honors heritage while embracing fresh, inclusive narratives.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on If you think you know your story, think again!
Reflections by Daniel E. Dercksen
When I was inspired to adapt my stage play The Beauty Of Incomplete Things into a novel, I assumed it would be an easy task. How wrong I was.
Although I had written the play over a span of 15 years and directed it in two theatres, I took the plunge to adapt a story that felt second nature to me—only to discover how different it is to know your story and to write it, a challenge that sustained me through the ten years of crafting the novel.
Knowing your story places you in a comfort zone of confidence and bravura. Writing your story quickly reveals how little you truly know it, demanding a journey into what you thought was familiar—opening the narrative in ways you could never have imagined.
Only when you truly accept that you don’t yet know your story are you ready to transform it—shaping a tale of promise into a masterwork that will test the very depths of your heart and soul.
It is never about perfect grammar, cleverness, or outsmarting yourself, but about respect—for the people who live within your story, and truthfulness to the story that lives within you.
Knowing your story can be misleading, even deceitful; it is all too easy for ego to take command, chasing self‑praise and adulation.
There is no place for ego in writing your story; you must become a humble, loyal servant to the creation itself. You learn to be truthful to what matters and never deceived by misguided notions. Only truth will set you free.
You cannot control your story; you must allow it to grow organically. Only then will it become instinctive and reflective—never didactic—moving with the rhythm of set‑up, confrontation, and resolution (beginning, middle, and end), while honouring the opening and closing values of the story and of each chapter.
New ideas will sprout, characters will rise to challenge, thoughts will grow wings, and your mind will find space to breathe.
In that openness, you will merge with your story—realising, at last, that you are the story.
The Write Journey course, which I created in 2000, was born out of a desire and passion to guide writers through the process of bringing to life the story that lives inside them.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on David – A joyful animated musical underdog story full of adventure and hope
Produced in Cape Town, the joyful animated musical David”Is one of the most inspiring characters in human history: a warrior, poet, shepherd and king,” says creator Phil Cunningham, a Zimbabwean who now lives in Cape Town, South Africa. “If you need to find the courage to slay giants in your life, bring your family along to watch David this December.”
From the songs of his mother’s heart to the whispers of a faithful God, David’s story begins in quiet devotion. When the giant Goliath rises to terrorise a nation, a young shepherd armed with only a sling, a few stones, and unshakable faith steps forward. Pursued by power and driven by purpose, his journey tests the limits of loyalty, love, and courage—culminating in a battle not just for a crown, but for the soul of a kingdom.
When the giant Goliath rises to terrorise a nation, a young shepherd steps forward, armed with only a sling, a few stones, and unshakable faith.
Phil Wickham leads the cast as the adult David, with Brandon Engman and Young Artist Award winner Sloan Lucas Muldown reprising their roles from Young David. The cast also features two-time Grammy winner Lauren Daigle, award-winning Israeli singer Miri Mesika and two-time BAFTA nominee Asim Chaudhry (People Just Do Nothing, The Sandman), all singing a score composed by Joseph Trapanese (The Greatest Showman).
The film releases in cinemas across South Africa and the US on Friday, 19 December 2025. Angel is running a crowdfunded campaign to get one million children to watch David for free. You can join the campaign by sponsoring a ticket for a South African child here.
Sunrise Animation Studios is a Cape Town based studio whose mission statement is “Inspire Through Story.” Sunrise is an animation house with integrated teams across story, development, concept art, animation, modelling, surfacing, grooming, layout, dressing, lighting, compositing, editing, foley, sound mixing and score composition.
Director’s Notes
“This journey started 30 years ago whilst canoeing down the Zambezi River. Watching an African thunder storm, a charging lion, a little flower on the bank and an eagle in flight, I saw the intelligent design, the art – and I fell in love with the Creator and the Artist. At the time I was reading David’s story which was full of adventure, excitement, music, friendship, moments of tenderness, expansiveness and wholeheartedness. I was struck that he was described as a man after God’s own heart. This was what I saw in creation and I was determined to one day tell a story of David that might inspire the world and open hearts to the possibility of an incredible, fun and exciting God. David’s faith in God’s love propelled him into a life of adventure and fearlessness. Although far from perfect, he lived wholeheartedly and we believe that audiences will be able to relate and be inspired.” – Phil Cunningham, Director. Phil co-founded Sunrise Animation Studios. Over the last 20 years, he has grown Sunrise into an international film and animation studio. His unique and inspiring entrepreneurial approach to filmmaking has attracted a team of vastly experienced collaborators all of whom believe in Phil and Sunrise’s vision of creating world-class family entertainment.
“Making David was an absolute privilege. Never before have I been part of a project that carried such weight, such depth, such history and promise. Each person that joined the team felt it too – a gravity, a pull, a sense that we were working on something special. It truly felt like it’s time had come, it wanted to be made, it was a story that wanted to be told. And it felt like I was a custodian of it, creating the space, listening and allowing it to be what it wanted to be. We were not trying to be like someone else… we created and allowed the space for the story to reveal itself to us, rather than trying to fit it into what we thought it should be. Taking such a timeless, rich, expansive story and condensing it into an animated feature film has been no small feat, but I couldn’t be prouder of how it has turned out. And I’m so grateful for the incredible team that assembled, caught the vision and poured themselves into making it far more than the sum of its parts. This has truly been the project of a lifetime.” Brent Dawes (Jungle Beat: The Movie), who directed with Phil. After studying drama at Natal Technikon and a two year stint as a copywriter, Brent joined Sunrise Animation Studios as lead animator on Africa’s first animated feature “The Legend of the Sky Kingdom.” Since then Brent has gone on to create the “Jungle Beat” series, direct “Jungle Beat The Movie,” create multiple international sporting mascots, and help Sunrise grow into the fun, vibrant and visionary studio that it is today.
Producer’s Notes
“Our passion for this film was to build an Arc de Triomphe. If one looks over Paris there are many flats, offices and factories but our goal was to create a film that stood the test of time and had scale and attention to detail on equal parts – an Arc de Triomphe. This all goes down to incredible people working in unity towards a vision and it has been the privilege of a lifetime to be part of this and work with such courageous, faithful, determined, talented and kind people. Why animation as a medium? Animation crosses race, cultural, age and gender barriers better than any other medium and our hope is that this story reaches as wide an audience as possible.” – Phil Cunningham, Executive Producer
“South Africa is more than a country, it’s a ‘people’ and a place where stories are born! Stories are told around the camp fire, no matter where you are born. It’s a community that believes in the power of story and this storytelling is passed on from generation to generation. The Bible is rich in parables that guide us through life. As the Master story teller weaves together the tapestry of life, weaving in our stories, the tapestry is rich with colour and beauty. Our Passion is born out of that belief, to ‘inspire through story.’ There is a beautiful African proverb that says: “if you want to go fast, go alone. If you want to go far, go together.” Animation is such a wonderful way to bring stories to life, working together and weaving our own stories in our craft, no matter which part of the pipeline we are working on.” – Jacqui Cunningham, Executive Producer
“Despite being written a lifetime ago, the stories in the Bible still resonate deeply for us today. Looking back to the legends who have run their race, daring greatly and leaving behind their God inspired legacy, inspiring us to run our race in faith, as we ‘write our story’. ‘Inspire through story’, is why we make animation. The most powerful testimony that changes lives is story. David’s story is relatable to all! It’s one of triumph and loss, joy and pain and a belief in God that brings meaning to life.” – Jacqui Cunningham, Executive Producer
“It has been an incredible ride working on the David project over the last 10 years, and so remarkable to have witnessed all the incredible talent and passion drawn to this project. What a privilege working with so many people who love what they do and pour their hearts and souls into it, and I think you can feel that in this film. The story of David is so inspiring and our hope is that every person who watches this film is inspired to live expansively and courageously, with faith!” – Rita Mbanga, Producer
“The story of David is a timeless classic, relatable by global audiences around the world. Filmmakers found the right balance between unique artistic beauty entwined with powerful storytelling, outstanding dialogue and character performances that will take the audience on an emotional journey like never before. On David, They has found a way to nurture the spark of creativity, attracting some of the best animation and creative talent on the planet with its open, honest and sincere leadership style. When you have a team as talented as this, the role of the Producers is simple, point the ship in the right direction, give the captain the provisions they need and let the adventure begin. David has been an epic journey from beginning to end. I could not be prouder of my producing partners for their unique work ethic, steadfast focus, unquestioned dedication and a desire to always nurture and support the creative vision. It’s been said that discipline is very good for creativity, as producers that means creating achievable schedules, realistic budgets and setting up our creative team where the artist can do their best work. We embraced technology, making it seamless to work with a global workforce: 400 hand-picked artists with a crafted attention to detail across 25 countries, all with a love for storytelling.” – Steve Pegram, Producer
“Producing David has reminded me again why I love animation so much. It’s about shared vision, collaboration, and mutual trust. I’ve been fortunate to work alongside a team of remarkable producers, each bringing their own strengths, insights, and passion to the process. Together we’ve navigated complexity and supported one another at every turn. Ultimately, David reflects the heart of all those fortunate enough to have spent the past five years contributing to it, and the joy we’ve found in creating something meaningful together.” Tim Keller, Producer
That story started over 20 years ago
When Phil wrote and executive produced the award-winning The Legend of the Sky Kingdom, Africa’s first animated feature film, made entirely from junk. In the two decades since, he’s turned Sunrise Animation Studios into a powerhouse, with nearly seven billion views for its Jungle Beat YouTube channel alone.
Sunrise animated David largely from their studio in Noordhoek, Cape Town, hiring over 400 local and international crew, some in-house and some remote. Legendary Pixar story artist Nathan Stanton (Brave, Finding Dory) was assistant director while the animation director was Dan Barker, a South African now based in the US, with credits on Oscar-winning films like Big Hero 6.
Other South African residents in key roles included executive producer Jacqui Cunningham, producers Tim Keller and Rita Mbanga, co-writer Sam Wilson, and production designer Lynton Levengood.
“In building Sunrise and making this movie, I’ve felt like David facing Goliath so many times,” says Phil. “This is a story that I’ve kept coming back to time and again for inspiration. I wanted to bring its powerful message of faith and courage to a new generation – and animation is the most powerful storytelling medium in the world right now to reach them. I can’t wait for families to enjoy David together on the big screen, and rediscover the joy of cinema and the power of biblical stories.”
The ultimate underdog story, David is being distributed in the US by Angel Studios. Their previous animation, The King of Kings, had the biggest opening weekend in the US of any biblical animation ever, according to Angel, ahead of the Oscar-winning The Prince of Egypt.
Angel has reinvented film funding by removing Hollywood gatekeepers and empowering everyday fans – the Angel Guild – to greenlight the development and distribution of the movies and TV shows they want to see.
The Angel Guild’s scores for David were the highest ever recorded, while its pre-sales set a new record for Angel.
As Angel Studios’ co-founder and CEO Neal Harmon says, “I’m not sure there’s been a faith-friendly film this beautiful, this high production value ever.”
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on In Conversation with Train Dreams’ screenwriters Clint Bentley and Greg Kwedar
Pictured: Greg Kwendar (left) and Clint Bentley
Clint Bentley’s adaptation of Denis Johnson’s beloved novella Train Dreams is the moving portrait of Robert Grainier, a logger and railroad worker who leads a life of unexpected depth and beauty in the rapidly changing America of the early 20th century.
Train Dreams captures a time and place that are now long gone, and the people who built a bridge to a future they could only dream of. Directed by Academy Award nominee Clint Bentley with a screenplay by Bentley and Academy Award nominee Greg Kwedar, the writing team behind Sing Sing.
Train Dreams is the moving portrait of Robert Grainier (Joel Edgerton), whose life unfolds during an era of unprecedented change in early 20th-century America. Orphaned at a young age, Robert grows into adulthood among the towering forests of the Pacific Northwest, where he helps expand the nation’s railroad empire alongside men as unforgettable as the landscapes they inhabit. After a tender courtship, he marries Gladys (Felicity Jones) and they build a home together, though his work often takes him far from her and their young daughter. When his life takes an unexpected turn, Robert finds beauty, brutality, and newfound meaning in the forests and trees he has felled.
In conversation with Clint Bentley, director and co-writer
What would you say Train Dreams is about?
CLINT BENTLEY: Train Dreams is based on the novella by Denis Johnson and tells the story of Robert Grainier, a logger and itinerant laborer who lives in the Pacific Northwest in the first part of the 20th century. It tells the story of his life as the world completely changes around him and life changes from a very agrarian one to something more industrialized and modern. He ends up becoming a relic of the past, even within his own lifetime, and we see him reckon with loss and love in all aspects of his life.
You co-wrote this film with Greg Kwedar. What was that process like? How does your creative partnership with Greg work?
BENTLEY: Greg and I have been working together now for about 15 years, and we’ve written many scripts together. This one was unique because we had never adapted a work of fiction before. We try to bring a deep level of research to what we do, and this film was no different, but it’s hard to research something that’s about a time gone by, and also based on a work of fiction. We went up to the area where Denis Johnson had lived and where the story is set while we were writing, and stayed in a cabin along the Moyea river where Grainier would’ve lived. We met loggers in that area and people whose parents and grandparents had been loggers. The Kootenai tribe there is reintroducing sturgeon into the rivers. It was a really unique writing process and really rewarding. I wanted to make sure that we were completely loyal to the spirit of the book that Denis had written, but also let the adaptation take its own path to become the movie that it needed to be. It was a constant exploration of trying to find what that balance was. I read the book five or six times, really trying to internalise it, and then I left it behind to let the script evolve into the story I wanted to tell.
What was it like adapting this text to film?
BENTLEY: The challenges and the exciting aspects of translating the book to film were kind of one and the same. It’s a really slim book and yet it covers an entire life — and it covers a very specific time in the world. A period of great change. It’s a book structured around memories and it’s kind of all over the place. Trying to retain that spirit of the book and fit that into a structure that can work in a film without losing the aspects and the qualities of it that are really charming and are really special — some of the wooliness of it and the strangeness of it — was always the challenge, but that was also the excitement. It was a constant push and pull of needing to give the story a shape so that it would work as a film — and work as a film that wasn’t six hours long — but then also not put too much of a structure on it to where it lost the narrative freedom the book has that’s so beautiful. It was a process of discovery and of trying and failing at different things to find how to do that. I knew I wanted to capture this feeling of time going by very quickly, but also wanting to find space to settle into moments that are really special in Robert Grainier’s life. One thing I really wanted to get across was how quickly time goes by but also how these little fleeting moments come to define our lives. So finding that balance between letting the film flow and letting the story flow, but also spending time in those special moments was a journey.
Train Dreams is ostensibly a story about one man, Robert Grainier, but it truly contains a multitude of stories — of love, of tragedy, ghosts, machines, solitude, and connection. How do you work to convey that onscreen?
BENTLEY: Robert Grainier doesn’t do anything that really alters the course of history. He doesn’t fight in some great battle or create some invention that changes people’s lives, and yet he lives a very deep and rich life. I think that’s what always really attracted me about telling that story. It reminded me of a lot of people in my family and in my life. Most of us will never have some great impact on history, and yet we lead very, very deep and beautiful lives in the process. There’s something very special about his story in that it is so specific to this one person’s life, and yet there’s a universality to it of a person trying to navigate a world that’s changing around you constantly, and ultimately leaving you behind even as you’re still alive. I think that’s as true today as it was in the early part of the 20th century when the story takes place.
The film also centers on a pivotal time in both the United States and the entire world, when technology and industry were advancing at an unprecedented pace, changing life as it was once known. What about capturing that era appealed most to you?
BENTLEY: I never really set out to make a period piece. What felt so interesting to me about this story is that even though it is set in the past, it feels so relevant to so many things that we’re going through today. Robert Grainier kind of becomes a relic of another time, even while he is still alive. He doesn’t understand the technology that’s around him. He gets left behind by modernity. And I feel like that’s something we’re struggling with today with the rise of so many different technologies. The world seems to be going through seismic changes every 10-15 years. There’s also the fact that we’re grappling with the effects of how much we’re taking from the world and how much we’re taking from the environment in order to fuel progress and a never-ending race to modernity. And that’s something that’s explored in this story from the early 1900s that we’re contending with even more today. We just take for granted a lot of the more harmful aspects that come with modernity and progress, and we don’t really think about the people who are left behind or displaced by these technological advancements. We don’t often think about all the countless people who are the workers and the laborers — the literal hands that build these things — and who are so often forgotten after these grand endeavors are completed. That resonated with me, not only with Robert Grainier’s story, but there’s a few different characters within Train Dreams who are working on these big endeavors within the context of westward expansion, and who will be forgotten by the end of it.
Much like Robert Grainier, the film is rooted in the Pacific Northwest. Can you talk a little bit about the power of that environment and its importance to this story?
BENTLEY: The Pacific Northwest was thought of — within the context of this idea of Westward expansion — as being the last frontier, the last part of the country that America would expand into. Of course, displacing people along the way who had been there for generations. A big part of that was cutting down all these old-growth trees in order to fuel the growth of this country and fuel the wars we were participating in. What I wanted to show with this story was that something was lost along the way. It’s not even always something you can quite put your finger on, but you do lose something intrinsic to the fabric of existence when you lose all those big trees. I think it’s still a very urgent question worth asking of how we’re using natural resources and how we’re pulling from natural resources in order to fuel growth, and what the cost of that is in the end.
Joel Edgerton’s portrayal of Robert Grainier is one of both sensitivity and strength. How did he get involved with the project, and what was it like working with him?
BENTLEY: I’ve been a fan of Joel’s for so long. He’s just an amazing actor, and a brilliant filmmaker and storyteller on top of that. I’m always struck by the profound subtlety of his performances. How he can do so much with so little. With just a look he can be menacing or sweet or completely break your heart. He was the perfect fit to play Robert Grainier. Grainier is a man of few words, he’s a quiet person, and yet he’s a person of deep feelings and deep thoughts about the world. And I knew Joel would be able to bring the character to life in a way that was true and yet I never expected the depths that he would reveal about the character. It was such a joy working with him. I endeavored to shoot in such a way that followed the script and yet also incorporated found moments through improv and evolved based on what the world was giving us in the moment and he was always so game to follow that wherever it took us. He always expanded those moments into something richer and deeper. He was an amazing creative partner in making the film. The whole film is set decades in the past but many of the themes are still incredibly present today.
Can you talk about some of those themes and why they still matter?
BENTLEY: I’ve spoken about the aspects of the film about our lives and about the environment. It’s also a story about how we move past grief and how we pick up the pieces of our lives and move forward, even when we’ve gone through something really tragic. Greg and I were writing this film during the pandemic, and then I was making the film in the aftermath of that. So many of us are still contending with the fact that life has changed irrevocably, in more ways that we can contend with at times. And honestly it doesn’t always make sense in the ways that it’s changed. And yet, how do you move on? How do you pick up the pieces and keep going? This story of Robert Grainier and what he goes through is a really resonant exploration of that. I think at the end of the day, I hope it’s a reminder that life is worth living. With all of the beauty and the sadness and the darkness and the light that we encounter, it’s all worth it in the end for the experience of it.
In conversation with co-writer Greg Kwedar
What was your first introduction to this project? Were you a fan of Denis Johnson?
GREG KWEDAR: I actually was not familiar with Denis’s work prior to engaging with the project — really only tangentially, just because I knew that he was one of Clint’s all-time favorite authors, and I knew that Train Dreams was a particularly salient piece for him. But I had never read it until he was exploring whether to step into what is ultimately a very daunting proposition — to try and adapt not just Denis Johnson, but to adapt this particular work. My memory of that first reading was, first and foremost, I was just like, “This is Clint. This is so Clint.”
What is it like collaborating with Clint?
KWEDAR: We’ve been working together for almost 15 years and have had this unique relationship where we’ve written four movies together at this point, but we’re also distinct directors. And so when one of us is directing, the other often takes on this supportive capacity to be along for a ride that maybe we weren’t designed to be the director of. But you get this first-row seat into your best friend’s creative process, to see them bring something to life and to be there to help them realize their dreams in whatever ways that you need to show up for. I think that has been the gift of our lasting partnership, because we’ve told stories in what we say is a community-driven approach to filmmaking, where we care a lot about the community that a movie is set within. It’s never a transactional experience, but an exchange. We care about the community of artists that we work around. And I think the reason that’s such a priority for us is we’ve had to nurture a community of two for so long and to be aware of navigating that friendship and partnership and putting forward a collective goal over individual needs. I think that’s been a very special part of how we’ve worked together.
Is there a consistent theme running through the projects you work on together?
KWEDAR: Something that has stretched across our body of work and has really been a guiding force is that in the very beginning of our collaborative working relationship we wrote a mission statement, which was to tell stories of human connection in impossible places. It was just an instinct then — a powerful one, but it wasn’t tested. Now we’ve made four films and it’s become even more vibrant and urgent with time. As we mature in the world as people and as we look at work that is created, I’ve become more and more committed to tell stories of hard-won optimism. About people that face immense heartache, difficulty, and sadness, but who ascend to a place of belief in each other, compassion, love, care, beauty. These things can transcend any form of hardship.
What was the actual process of adapting the book?
KWEDAR: The first thing I did was I read it for my own joy and just experienced the book. The things I remember the most that I wrote down at the end were like, “Oh, this is a book about language in a way, the language of working men, the language of love, the language of sadness, the language of solitude, the language of community.” Our job was just to study that as closely as we could. Then the next thing we did, and part of our process, was to read the book with a pen, and underline anything resonant — it didn’t matter if it was just prose, or dialogue, or moments. It ended up that most of the book was underlined. Then it was just pulling everything that was underlined and resonant into our working document. Then it was just starting to look at it like: “OK, here it all is. What is the task here?” So much of our work has been almost like being journalists in the films that we’d done prior to Train Dreams, and that involved getting out into the field. Now it was: “How can you bring that journalistic process into a [fictional] text?” [We realized], OK, the job here is to get underneath these words, sometimes get in between them, sometimes go beyond them, and to identify across the work where those opportunities were. And then also [to ask ourselves], “Where are the moments where we just need to be purely faithful and almost directly translate what was written onto the screen?”
What are your most prominent memories of doing this work?
KWEDAR: My personal favorite part of the process was when we decided to actually go out into the field ourselves. We went to Bonners Ferry, Idaho. Clint and I would just drive the roads and be in the presence of those great trees and those endless vistas. And we were listening to the audiobook of Train Dreams for the first time, which is narrated by Will Patton [who is also Narrator in the film]. We’d just listen to the words in the reality of the natural setting that it was written within. We also stayed in a cabin on the Moyie River, which is also a significant part of the setting in the book, and it’s also the same road and riverside that Denis and [his wife] Cindy Lee lived on when they were based in Bonners Ferry. And so we were writing, looking out upon the same water that he did while he was writing the book. It was a very pivotal moment for us to be able to feel the place, to have it come alive in 3D around us, and to access all the senses of what the book was communicating and to see it through our own eyes and to feel it and to feel those textures and nuances. We finished our first draft while we were there. There was that moment where you’re having these indelible experiences and you’re trying to translate that to the page and then you read it back and it’s just like, “It’s not quite what we just lived.” It still felt shaggy … We didn’t have clarity of focus. And so whatever elation we were feeling during the trip hit a quick crash-down. And then the next big moment for us was detaching that feeling of having to minutely protect every aspect of the original text. That was the moment where we finally just let ourselves be free and to be guided by Clint’s directorial vision. Then it was paring back and letting things fall away and just letting only what felt like lived up to the standard of the book originally, but in our form, into the screen form. That’s when it finally clicked, and we found it. After that, it’s just the constant tinkering, but its soul was apparent finally at that moment. We knew we had a movie.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Zootopia 2: Wild City Adventures
Directed by Jared Bush and Byron Howard, two of the most talented and acclaimed filmmakers working in animation today, Zootopia 2 picks up directly after the conclusion of Zootopia / Zootropolis.
“We needed a true north and knew very early on that it was Judy and Nick’s partnership,” explains director Bush, who also wrote the screenplay and serves as Disney Animation’s chief creative officer. “We wanted to make sure that they were always at the centre of the story and that everything is experienced through their eyes.”
“We also knew we were going to see an expansion of the story,” says director Howard. “This is an enormous film. It’s one of—if not the—biggest features we’ve ever made in terms of the characters, the environments and overall complexity.”
“The first ‘Zootopia’ is one of the most visually-rich, complicated and just plain insane feats Disney Animation has ever pulled off,” agrees Bush, “and we knew this film had to reach even higher. There are dozens of complex, detailed environments and a cast of literally hundreds of different animals, including reptiles, lynxes and semiaquatic animals. The film is awe-inspiring on every creative and technical level.”
The original Zootopia / Zootropolis was released in 2016 and went on to become a global box-office hit sensation, grossing over $1 billion worldwide. The film won the Oscar for best animated feature, along with numerous other accolades. Byron Howard served as director and Jared Bush as co-writer/co-director.
Howard recalls, “I met Jared when he was brought in to write on the first ‘Zootopia’ film, and from the start, we were very much like brothers. We had tons of things in common. We’re both afraid of heights, we both play trombone, and we both love snickerdoodle cookies. We bonded very quickly over the idea of creating an animal movie together. The idea of animals in an animal city built by animals was really fascinating to everyone, and we jumped in from day one to create that world. After the first movie wrapped, we always knew that this world was built for many, many more stories.”
“Zootopia 2” reunites Bush and Howard with veteran Disney Animation producer Yvett Merino. The trio previously worked together on the Academy Award–winning feature Encanto, which Bush and Howard directed, Bush co-wrote, and Merino produced. Merino also produced “Moana 2” and the Emmy Award–winning short film Once Upon a Studio. With nearly 30 years at Disney Animation, she has worked in production on features including Tangled, Big Hero 6 and Moana.
Additionally, Bush wrote the screenplay for Moana and co-wrote and executive produced Moana 2. Howard made his feature directing debut in 2008 with “Bolt” and went on to direct Tangled before helming Zootopia and Encanto. Howard launched his animation career in 1994 at the Disney Animation Studio in Florida, where he contributed animation to landmark films such as “Pocahontas,” “Mulan,” “Lilo & Stitch” and “Brother Bear.”
Merino observes, “Having worked closely with Byron and Jared on ‘Encanto,’ I look at this film abbit like coming home. They’re both truly incredible talents with great senses of humour. They’re amazingly creative and smart, and super experienced. My job on this film was partnering with them to make sure whatever vision was in their minds ended up on screen.”
“We always knew that there were reptiles and other semiaquatic mammals out there. As we were wrapping ‘Encanto,’ Jared did a little sketch on a story pad that said, ‘Zootopia 2,’ and the 2 was shaped like a snake,” Howard explains. “Working on this film with Jared was such an easy, comfortable thing for me to jump back into because we both made the world together. Yvett is the third leg to our tripod, and she is not only a great producer, but she brings a great sense of empathy and humanity to the entire production.”
A Letter From “Zootopia 2” Director / Writer Jared Bush
14 years ago, I was invited to Disney Animation for a first meeting with a star director who is now my dear friend, Byron Howard. I was in awe as I stepped into the headquarters of this legendary studio—a building topped with Mickey’s giant sorcerer hat—to begin an eight-week writing assignment. Byron had an idea—and a few sketches—for a story set in a world made by animals, for animals, starring a bunny and a fox. From there, our journey began. We went on research trips, built our team of artists and shaped this new world full of colorful characters. None of us could have dared to dream that we’d be here in 2025, putting the finishing touches on Judy Hopps and Nick Wilde’s next adventure and preparing to share “Zootopia 2” with audiences around the world. A lot has changed over the years, and yet so many things are the same. Our films, every single one of them, start in a story room with a handful of people. They’re born from asking each other what moves us, what entertains us, what matters to us and what brings us joy. With that, we dream up new ideas, new worlds and new characters together—and honestly, there is nothing more fun in the entire world. Over the last few weeks, as we conclude our journey on “Zootopia 2,” Byron and I are filled with so many emotions. The artists and innovators of Disney Animation have put their whole selves into this film. The most insanely talented animators in the world have set a new bar with their hand-crafted, nuanced performances across dozens of characters—characters that walk, hop, waddle and slither, all set in the most complex and immersive environments we have evercreated at our studi o. Byron and I are filled with gratitude. We’re grateful to everyone who worked on this film, grateful to be given the opportunity to tell another story about this city we love, and grateful to the moviegoers who have connected with this film about a bunny and a fox and their world of animals, a world that may just be a little like our own.
Jared Bush, “Zootopia 2” director / writer
JARED BUSH (DIRECTOR/WRITER) is the chief creative officer of Walt Disney Animation Studios, overseeing all aspects of the creative direction of the studio. Bush is the director (with Byron Howard) and writer of “Zootopia 2,” the sequel to the Academy Award®–winning “Zootopia,” for which he was co-director and co-writer. Bush was also executive producer and co-writer of Disney Animation’s record-breaking hit “Moana 2” and was the screenwriter of the first “Moana.” During the 13 years Bush has been a writer and director at Disney Animation, beyond his work on the “Moana” and “Zootopia” films, he received an Academy Award®, a Golden Globe® and a BAFTA Award for “Encanto,” which he directed (with Byron Howard) and co-wrote. In 2021, the same year as “Encanto,” Bush was also the executive producer for the Oscar®-nominated “Raya and the Last Dragon.” Additionally, Bush was an executive producer for the Disney+ series “Zootopia+,” for which he received a Children’s and Family Emmy® Award. He is also a writer of the upcoming live-action version of “Moana,” which is based on the Disney Animation film for which he wrote the screenplay. Bush has also written and advised on several projects in collaboration with Disney Animation Creative Legacy and Walt Disney Imagineering, including the “Zootopia”-themed land in Shanghai Disney Resort as well as the upcoming “Zootopia”- and “Encanto”-themed attractions at Disney’s Animal Kingdom Theme Park in Walt Disney World Resort. Bush began his career as a script reader for director Robert Zemeckis, and prior to joining Disney Animation, he developed original television series for Revolution Studios, Fox and NBC, and feature film projects for New Line Cinema, Columbia/TriStar and 20th Century Fox.
BYRON HOWARD (DIRECTOR) is the Academy Award®–winning director of Walt Disney Animation Studios’ “Encanto” (with Jared Bush) and “Zootopia” (with Rich Moore). Howard also directed Disney Animation’s worldwide hit feature “Tangled” with Nathan Greno, and the duo teamed up again for the short film “Tangled Ever After.” Most recently, he was the animation director for Disney Animation’s “Moana 2” and for the new Walt Disney World attraction “Zootopia: Better Zoogether!” As a child, Howard’s favorite Disney Animation films included “Robin Hood,” “Cinderella” and “Sleeping Beauty.” He was also inspired by artists like Chuck Jones, Ronald Searle and Bill Watterson, and he would fill reams of computer paper with characters of his own creation. His love of art and animation continued through high school and college. Howard earned a Bachelor of Arts degree at the Evergreen State College in Washington, where he pursued his interest in filmmaking by studying cinematography, art and literature. By 1991 he was part of the Disney family, hosting the animation tour at what was then Disney-MGM Studios in Orlando. In 1994 Howard officially joined Disney Animation in Florida as an inbetweener and clean-up artist on “Pocahontas.” He quickly went on to become an animator on “Mulan” and a supervising animator on “Lilo & Stitch” and “Brother Bear,” as well as doing character design on both of those films. Howard later relocated to California, where he continued his study of cinematography and drawing as a story artist and character designer at Disney Animation before becoming a director in 2006. Disney Animation’s Oscar®-nominated feature “Bolt” marked Howard’s debut as a feature film director (alongside Chris Williams). Howard also designed some of the characters in that film. Howard loves the collaborative medium of animation because it combines art, cinematography, writing, design, acting and music with a family of supportive and talented artists and crew. Team members inspire each other to achieve something greater than they could alone. In addition to his lifelong passion for animation and a career spanning over 20 years, Howard’s interests include art, music, theater, travel and a deep love for animals.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Avatar: Fire and Ash – James Cameron’s War of Worlds
Legendary filmmaker James Cameron transports audiences back to the breathtaking world of Pandora with Avatar: Fire and Ash
“This film definitely delivers something fresh and new. I think where it’s unexpected is that it’s very truthful, very authentic about the emotional consequences of the things that happened in ‘The Way of Water.’” says James Cameron
The screenplay for “Avatar: Fire and Ash” is once again written by director/producer James Cameron & Rick Jaffa & Amanda Silver. Jaffa and Silver, both writing partners and partners in real life, have written and produced the “Planet of the Apes” trilogy and “Jurassic World.”
The first film in the phenomenally successful franchise, “Avatar,” opened in 2009, thrilling fans with the dazzling worlds brought to life on screen, and grossing more than $2.9 billion worldwide, becoming the highest-grossing film of all time. It received Oscar® nominations for best picture, directing, editing, score, sound mixing, and sound editing, and won for cinematography, visual effects, and art direction. The film was also honored with Golden Globe Awards® for best motion picture (drama) and best director.
Thirteen years later, in 2022, “Avatar: The Way of Water” opened, continuing the compelling stories of the beloved characters and the narrative thread that ties their stories together. The film captivated moviegoers once again, grossing more than $2.3 billion worldwide and winning an Oscar® for best achievement in visual effects.
Avatar (2009), directed by James Cameron, introduced audiences to the lush alien world of Pandora, where former Marine Jake Sully becomes part of the Na’vi people and fights to protect their land from human exploitation. Its sequel, Avatar: The Way of Water (2022), picks up over a decade later, following Jake and Neytiri as they raise a family and seek refuge with the ocean-dwelling Metkayina clan when a familiar threat returns. The film deepens the saga’s themes of environmentalism, family, and survival, while showcasing groundbreaking underwater visuals and expanding the emotional scope of the story.
The story picks up a few weeks after the events of “Avatar: The Way of Water.” The Sully family is still living amongst the Metkayina Clan in the picturesque reefs of Pandora, but is learning to adjust to life without Neteyam (Jamie Flatters), who was killed in a brutal skirmish with the “Sky People” from the RDA (Resources Development Administration). Jake (Sam Worthington), Neytiri (Zoe Saldaña), Lo’ak (Britain Dalton), Tuk (Trinity Jo-Li Bliss), Spider (Jack Champion), and Kiri (Sigourney Weaver) are each dealing with the loss in their own way.
The incredibly talented team of artisans helping Cameron bring the breathtaking world of Pandora to life – many with whom his creative relationships date back to “Avatar” and have evolved significantly over the past 16 years – includes Oscar®-winning director of photography Russell Carpenter, ASC (“Titanic”); production designers Dylan Cole (“Maleficent”) and Ben Procter (“Ender’s Game”); editors Stephen Rivkin, ACE (“Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest”), Nicolas de Toth, ACE (“X-Men Origins: Wolverine”), John Refoua, ACE (“Transformers: The Last Knight”), Jason Gaudio (“Blackhat”), James Cameron, ACE; five-time Academy Award®-winning senior visual effects supervisor Joe Letteri (“King Kong,” “The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King”); Lightstorm’s two-time Oscar-winning visual effects supervisor/virtual second unit director Richard Baneham (“Alita: Battle Angel”); Wētā FX’s Academy Award-winning senior visual effects supervisor Eric Saindon (“I, Robot”); Wētā FX senior animation supervisor Daniel Barrett (“War for the Planet of the Apes”); Wētā FX – VFX producer Nicky Muir (“Black Panda; Wakanda Forever”); GRAMMY Award®-winning composer Simon Franglen (“Titanic”); Oscar-winning costume designer Deborah L. Scott (“Titanic”); and casting director Margery Simkin (“Top Gun”).
The sound design team on “Avatar: Fire and Ash” includes supervising sound editors Gwendolyn Yates Whittle and Brent Burge, re-recording mixers Gary Summers, Michael Hedges, and Alexis Feodoroff, and production sound mixer Julian Howarth, all of whom worked on “Avatar: The Way of Water.” The majority of the sound team is based in New Zealand, but a handful work from Skywalker Sound in Northern California.
According to Jamie Landau, “Jim Cameron, the filmmaker, is so incredibly passionate about every aspect of the film. There is not a single thing in any department that he’s not going to have an opinion on, and it’s going to be the right opinion because this has all been born out of his mind. And that doesn’t necessarily mean that he’s always going to be right on the first go. But he is very open to hearing other opinions from the heads of departments that he trusts…as long as you have a really good explanation behind your belief and you are able to articulate that, he is open to change. He is an excellent collaborator and an excellent leader.”
“On ‘Avatar,’ we thought of New Zealand as our second home, but it might actually be our first home now,” says Sanchini. “Jim is now officially a New Zealand citizen. Filming there has been absolutely fantastic. The crews have been great, and the people are lovely to deal with. Wētā, our primary visual effects house, is, of course, based there, so it makes all the communication between Jim, who lives in Wellington, and the supervisors at Wētā much more fluid and immediate. And Stone Street Studios, where we film live action, is practically in the heart of Wellington.”
Perfecting The Art Of Performance Capture
“’Avatar’ movies are not made by computers,” says director/co-writer/producer James Cameron. “’Avatar’ films are made by an incredibly talented team of people – especially our actors – who physically perform every scene. I worked with my cast on ‘The Way of Water’ and ‘Fire and Ash’ for almost 18 months. Every expression, every movement, every emotional beat comes from their real performances. And once we have that captured, our artists work tirelessly to bring those characters – and the entire world – to life.”
In discussing the actor’s role on a virtual camera stage, Sam Worthington says, “You are basically wearing a suit and a mask of dots, and they are captured by hundreds of infrared cameras. So, anything that you do, anything that you say, anything that you feel, anywhere you look, how you are, it’s translated using those dots into the system. Now, whether it’s us or a stunt guy jumping into the water or flying on a creature or crying when their son dies, it is all us, and it is all true. And the more the technology has improved, the more subtle we can do our performances. So even me just standing there breathing and thinking, that is going to translate through the system, and there’s not one thing that is added to my performance.”
The actor-driven nature of performance capture technology is the driving force behind the “Avatar” films, and their success is often attributed to its pioneering use of this technique, which enables the fictional world and its characters to come alive in a literal sense. It is a technique that uses movements and facial expressions to drive the performance of photorealistic computer-generated characters. In each of the “Avatar” films, it has played a crucial role in bringing the Na’vi and other fantastical creatures to life.
Cameron and his phenomenally talented team use cutting-edge technology to translate the nuanced expressions and physicality of the actors into the digital world of Pandora. By capturing the subtle emotional cues and movements of the performers, the technology allows for photoreal lifelike characters, enhancing the immersive experience for viewers. Every nuance of the actors’ physical and facial performances faithfully drives their CG counterparts, such that every minute detail of their performance is translated faithfully into these fantastical CGI alien characters.
“Everything from the most intimate dramatic moments to our biggest stunts and underwater movement is all done for real,” explains co-producer Jamie Landau. “In the past, there has been a misconception that these films are animated, which they are definitely not. In fact, we were doing performance capture for 18 months.”
Jon Landau explains, “Jim Cameron wrote ‘Avatar’ in 1995. The technology at the time did not exist to tell the story the way we wanted to tell it. When I say that to people, a lot of people think I’m talking about 3D, but it has nothing to do with 3D. It had to do with putting up emotional and engaging characters on the screen that we wanted to do using computer-generated effects. So, the challenge became, how could we create – for a director like Jim Cameron – the same intimacy where he could work with a cast, but create computer-generated characters playing in the world of Pandora? The technology did not exist. We looked at the landscape of what people were doing with what they called motion capture, and it was promising, but it missed one key letter in front of it for us: an e for emotion capture. And we turned that first into performance capture when we started to capture the facial performance at the same time as the body. We then turned that into virtual production, where we put a camera in Jim Cameron’s hands and he could see the character, not the person who was standing in front of him, but their Na’vi or avatar character, and when he would look across the barren stage that we were on, he didn’t see the barren stage. He saw the world of Pandora. It was now a filmmaker’s tool in a very acting-centric process. That did not exist. We needed to create all of the technologies to do that.”
Jon Landau continues, “Whenever we do performance capture, we shoot reference footage of the actors. We’ll sometimes shoot up to 16 cameras at one time. This reference footage is first used by the editors to see the performances. They’ll take a sixteen-quadrant split, where we see all sixteen images, then they will blow up one image to see the subtlety of a performance that an actor gave in order for them to pick the best performances. That reference footage stays behind the scenes throughout the entire process. When we turn over a template to our visionary colleagues at Wētā, we give them reference footage, and once they start working on the animation, they do a picture-in-picture all the time with that reference footage to make sure that their animated character is accurately doing what the actor did on the day.”
“At this point in time, nobody does the visual effects capture finishing work better than Wētā, and that is because of that iterative relationship between the production and the visual effects house with the technology and creative feeding back and forth,” says Sanchini, “And we’ve developed a real shorthand. Sometimes it is hard to explain exactly why a shot isn’t working, why a face doesn’t look natural, or why it’s not moving in the right way, and it took years to develop that shorthand for them all to see the same things, to understand how to address it. And on this film, everyone is on the same page at all times.”
Cameron and the editorial team select the best performances for each moment of a given scene, and then use a virtual camera to create the specific shots. The virtual camera allows Cameron to shoot scenes within the computer-generated world, just as if he were filming on a physical location or soundstage. With this virtual camera, he sees the actors as their 9-foot-tall blue characters in Pandora.
Once the virtual camera shots are edited into cut sequences, the shots and performances are delivered to the visual effects experts at Peter Jackson’s Academy Award®-winning visual effects powerhouse Wētā FX in New Zealand. With “Avatar: Fire and Ash,” there are 3,382 visual effects shots.
JAMES CAMERON (Director/Co-Writer/Producer/Editor) is an acclaimed filmmaker and explorer. As director, writer, and producer, he is responsible for some of the most memorable films of the past three decades: “The Terminator,” “Aliens,” “The Abyss,” “Terminator 2: Judgment Day,” “True Lies,” “Titanic,” and “Avatar.”
“Avatar” is the highest-grossing film in history with more than $2.8 billion in global box office, beating the previous record holder, Cameron’s own film “Titanic,” which held that record for 12 years. Cameron’s films have also earned numerous nominations and awards, most notably “Titanic’s” 14 Academy Award® nominations (a record) and 11 Oscars® (also a record), including Cameron’s own three Oscars® for Best Picture, Best Direction, and Best Editing. Both “Titanic” and “Avatar” won the Golden Globe® for Best Director and Best Picture. “Avatar” was nominated for nine Academy Awards® and won three.
Cameron returned to the world of Pandora in “Avatar: The Way of Water, which is set more than a decade after the events of the first film and continues the adventures of the Sully family. The film was released in 2022 and grossed more than $2.3 billion worldwide, winning an Academy Award® for best achievement in visual effects.
Over the last 17 years, Cameron developed cutting-edge 3D camera systems for movies and documentaries, as well as for broadcast sports and special events. He was at the vanguard of the 3D renaissance that has transformed the movie industry in recent years. He also developed unprecedented deep ocean exploration vehicles, lighting, and 3D camera equipment. Most recently, Cameron led his eighth deep ocean expedition to some of the deepest trenches in the world. On March 26, 2012, he set the world’s solo deep diving record of 35,787’ in the Challenger Deep in a vehicle of his own design.
Cameron is a National Geographic Explorer in Residence and a recipient of their most prestigious award, the Hubbard Medal, as well as the Explorer’s Club medal for Explorer of the Year. Cameron is also passionately involved in sustainability issues, having founded the Avatar Alliance Foundation to take action on climate change, energy policy, deforestation, indigenous rights, ocean conservation, and sustainable agriculture.
His production company, Lightstorm Entertainment, installed a one-megawatt solar array on the roofs of its soundstages at Manhattan Beach Studios to generate all the power for the “Avatar” sequels. James and Suzy Amis Cameron, both environmental vegans, founded the Plant Power Taskforce to promote awareness of the impact of animal agriculture on the environment and climate.
RICK JAFFA (Screenplay by/Story by) has collaborated with his wife and partner, Amanda Silver, for more than 30 years. Together they’ve written and produced some of the biggest and most lucrative movies in Hollywood cinema history, with a collective worldwide box office of over $6 billion.
“Avatar: Fire and Ash,” which they co-wrote with James Cameron, is scheduled for release December 19, 2025. It is a follow-up to “Avatar: The Way of Water,” which they also co-wrote, which was released in December 2022.
Recently, they produced “Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes,” the fourth installation in the rebooted “Planet of the Apes” franchise, which was released in May 2024. Their script for the live-action version of the Disney animated film “Mulan,” directed by Niki Caro, was released on Disney+ in 2020. In 2015, they co-wrote the worldwide blockbuster “Jurassic World.”
In 2011, the duo created, wrote, and produced the hit “Rise of the Planet of the Apes,” which earned an Oscar® nomination for its groundbreaking visual effects and successfully rebooted the “Planet of the Apes” franchise. In 2014, they co-wrote and produced the sequel, “Dawn of the Planet of the Apes.” The third installment, “War for the Planet of the Apes,” which they produced, was released in 2014.
A native of DeSoto, Texas, Jaffa graduated from Southern Methodist University with a degree in history and political science. He later earned his MBA at the University of Southern California. Jaffa began his entertainment career in the mailroom of the William Morris Agency. He became the executive assistant to legendary agent Stan Kamen, who was then head of the motion-picture department. Later, as an agent, Jaffa represented writers and directors who created such diverse films as 1987’s “RoboCop” and 1985’s “The Trip to Bountiful.”
He began collaborating with Silver as an executive producer on “The Hand That Rocks the Cradle,” which she scripted. They then co-wrote “Eye for an Eye” and “The Relic.”
AMANDA SILVER (Screenplay by/Story by) has teamed with husband Rick Jaffa for over 30 years. Together they’ve written and produced some of the biggest and most lucrative movies in Hollywood Cinema history, with a collective worldwide box office of over $6 billion.
“Avatar: Fire and Ash,” which they co-wrote with James Cameron, is scheduled for release December 19, 2025. It is a follow-up to “Avatar: The Way of Water,” which they also co-wrote, which was released in December 2022.
Recently, they produced “Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes,” the fourth installation in the rebooted “Planet of the Apes” franchise, which was released in May 2024. Their script for the live-action version of the Disney animated film “Mulan,” directed by Niki Caro, was released on Disney+ in 2020. In 2015, they co-wrote the worldwide blockbuster “Jurassic World,” which has grossed more than $1.6 billion worldwide.
In 2011, the duo wrote and produced the hit “Rise of the Planet of the Apes,” which earned an Oscar® nomination for its groundbreaking visual effects and successfully rebooted the “Planet of the Apes” franchise. In 2014, they co-wrote and produced the sequel, “Dawn of the Planet of the Apes.” The third installment, “War for the Planet of the Apes,” which they produced, was released in 2014.
Silver grew up in New York City and received her BA in history from Yale University before moving to Los Angeles. She was an executive assistant at TriStar and Paramount Pictures before enrolling at the University of Southern California, where she earned an MFA in screenwriting.
Silver’s thesis script was the thriller “The Hand That Rocks the Cradle,” which went on to be a hit in 1992 and began her collaboration with Jaffa, who executive-produced the film. She followed the next year with a Cable ACE Award-winning episode of “Fallen Angels,” directed by Alfonso Cuarón. Silver and Jaffa then co-wrote such films as “Eye for an Eye” and “The Relic.”
SHANE SALERNO (Story by) has written, co-written, or rewritten six films that debuted at No. 1 at the box office, two separate films that were the highest-grossing films of the year (1998 and 2022), and the third-highest-grossing film of all time.
His day job is serving as the founder and chief creative officer of The Story Factory, a film and publishing company. In that capacity, he has been a primary force in developing and placing 33 books on the New York Times bestseller list, with seven No. 1 New York Times bestsellers. The most recent No. 1 New York Times bestseller from The Story Factory is “Eruption,” a novel begun by Michael Crichton before his passing and finished by James Patterson. He is also producing the Sony film adaptation with Sherri Crichton and James Patterson.
Salerno serves as executive producer of the forthcoming “Heat 2,” written, produced, and directed by Michael Mann, based on the No. 1 New York Times bestseller written by Mann and Meg Gardiner that Salerno launched globally in partnership with Harper Collins. He is also the producer of “Crime 101” (written and directed by Bart Layton), which comes out in February 2026, starring Chris Hemsworth, Halle Berry, Mark Ruffalo, Monica Barbaro, Jennifer Jason Leigh, and Nick Nolte, and one of the producers of “Drowning: The Rescue of Flight 1421,” which Paul Greengrass is directing.
Salerno has written screenplays for James Cameron, Steven Spielberg, Ridley Scott, Michael Mann, John Singleton, Jan DeBont, Wolfgang Petersen, Ron Howard, William Friedkin, Michael Bay, and Christopher Nolan, among others. In addition to “Avatar: The Way of Water” and “Avatar: Fire and Ash,” Salerno’s screenwriting credits include “Armageddon,” directed by Michael Bay and produced by Jerry Bruckheimer, “Savages,” directed by three-time Oscar® winner Oliver Stone, which he also executive produced, and “Shaft,” directed by John Singleton.
“Avatar Fire and Ash” is Salerno’s second project with James Cameron this year. They recently reunited on the non-fiction book “Ghost of Hiroshima” written by Charles Pellegrino, which became a New York Times and USA Today bestseller. Salerno is currently working with Quentin Tarantino and author Jay Glennie on an authorized ten-volume coffee table book series about each of Tarantino’s films, the first of which, “The Making of Once Upon a Time in Hollywood,” has just been released.
In television, Salerno began his career straight out of high school on “NYPD Blue,” working as an apprentice under nine-time Emmy® winner Gregory Hoblit, David Milch, and Steven Bochco, and then became a staff writer at twenty-one on Dick Wolf’s Fox TV series “New York Undercover.” He went on to serve as the executive producer of “The Comey Rule,” starring Jeff Daniels, which debuted as the highest rated limited-series in Showtime’s history and was nominated for two Golden Globes®, writer and consulting producer of “Hawaii Five 0,” and the co-creator/executive producer and showrunner of NBC’s “UC: Undercover,” which began a nearly 30-year collaboration with acclaimed novelist Don Winslow.
Salerno also wrote, produced, and directed the documentary “Salinger,” about J.D. Salinger, which premiered as the 200th anniversary installment of PBS’s “American Masters,” and co-wrote the non-fiction book “Salinger” (with David Shields), which became a New York Times bestseller. He also served as executive producer of the acclaimed documentary “Alan Pakula: Going for Truth,” directed by Matthew Mielle, which features an all-star cast including Meryl Streep, Julia Roberts, Robert Redford, Dustin Hoffman, Jane Fonda, Bob Woodward, Carl Bernstein, among many others.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Eternity – A genre-defying romantic fantasy
In Eternity, a love triangle breaks out in the least expected place: the Afterlife. From this whimsical concept blooms a bold, heart-stirring rom-com, a journey into a charming pop vision of post-earthly existence and how we take the measure of a lifetime of love and happiness.
When Larry Cutler (Miles Teller) unexpectedly passes before his wife Joan (Elizabeth Olsen), he’s shocked to awaken in a chaotic waystation, where panicked sellers hawk an endless supply of possible afterlives. Here, he learns from his assigned Afterlife Coordinator (Da’Vine Joy Randolph) that he has just one week to confront the ultimate dilemma: where, and with whom, to spend eternity. But when Joan arrives soon after him, she finds her first love Luke (Callum Turner) has been waiting in limbo for 67 years to be with her. She is faced with an impossible choice between the man she spent her life with and the man who promises her the life she could’ve lived.
The question at the heart of Eternity’s charms is what might, for each of us, give the Sweet Hereafter its irresistible sweetness. Lit by spirited performances from an irresistibly charismatic central cast, director David Freyne conjures a fresh, funny, and unabashedly romantic vision of the after world as a visually dazzling playground of human dreams and the backdrop for the biggest decision one will ever face.
The rules of this afterlife quickly become clear. Each new arrival lands, dazed and confused, at the Junction, a cross between a grand railway station, convention centre floor, and Mid-Century hotel. Appearing as the age they were at their peak happiness in life, the newly deceased are bombarded with billboards, ads, and fast-talking salespeople peddling options for perpetuity: from Man Free World to Capitalist World, Surf World to Infantilization World. But once you choose your eternal destination there’s no going back. And if you can’t choose, you must take a service job in the Junction, residing in a shabby studio apartment until you’re ready to move on.
Visions of celestial realms of one sort or the other have long drawn ambitious filmmakers, from Ernst Lubitsch and Powell & Pressburger to Warren Beatty and Albert Brooks. In Eternity, Freyne took this history to heart, winking playfully at the many movies that have gazed upwards before. But he also took his own enchantingly handmade approach to crafting a next life that brings into focus all that we hunger for in this world. For at the heart of The Junction is an all-encompassing shopping mall, putting on offer every human obsession, pipedream, and happy ending that ever floated anyone’s boat. It’s designed to get people in and out as fast as possible.
Intensive world-building for a world that could rely on little else but uncorked imagination took Freyne to his creative edges. But his anchor for the storytelling was a light-as-clouds, tender touch with the characters at its heart.
“I loved working with this giant canvas, building the architecture of The Junction, and playing with endless possibilities for all the eternities,” says Freyne. “But I never lost sight of the fact that what I most wanted to do is to celebrate love in its many forms, to look at how our idea of love changes over time, and to take you into the impossible choice of a woman torn between two men who at different times meant everything to her. I had the chance to say everything I ever wanted to say about love and life.”
Elizabeth Olsen, Miles Teller, Callum Turner. Credit: Leah Gallo
From the Ether to the Black List
In 2022, Patrick Cunnane’s script for Eternity shot to the top of Hollywood’s famed Black List of the best-loved screenplays not yet produced. Cunnane’s take on a fanciful afterlife outpost that closely mirrored our own earthly matters was a hugely entertaining read, with two moving love stories in a tug-of-war at its core. Yet this elegant romantic fable had obvious obstacles. For one, it was that rare story requiring an absolute totality of vision to even get it off the ground.
To his surprise, that vision came to Freyne instantaneously. The Irish writer and director had come to the fore with the acclaimed coming-of-age comedy Dating Amber. But he’d never approached anything remotely on the inventive scale of Eternity. “I had an instinctual and emotional reaction to the essence of the story, which sent my brain into overdrive,” Freyne recalls.
From there, sheer exuberance took over. “Right off the bat, I had this complete idea of The Junction as a bureaucratic Brutalist hub that encased a chaotic tourism expo of eternities. All surrounded by painted backdrops,” Freyne remembers. “All manner of ideas came flooding in… it all was weirdly crystal clear.”
Freyne continues: “I imagined it as this intense pressure cooker of an environment to enhance the anguish of Joan’s impossible decision. For me, it was vital that for Joan, however daunting the choice, there truly is no right or wrong. There is no good guy or bad guy. I love the idea of the audience arguing over whether she made the right choice or not.”
Though sceptical of the notion, Freyne admits it felt like Fate with a capital F. “I’ve dreamed all my life of making rom coms in the vein of Lubitsch, Wilder, and Sturges,” he says. “I adore that era when people believed rom coms could say everything, could be the deepest films, no matter how feathery their touch. And here was my chance. Eternity might be set in the afterlife, but what mattered to me is the characters are caught up in conflicts that feel very human and very true to our experiences.”
Still, Freyne had his doubts that producers Trevor and Tim White would entrust the film’s grand scope to “a little Irish indie filmmaker.” As it turned out, the White brothers were so enamoured by his ideas they eagerly handed him the creative reigns. “Trevor, Tim, and Pat were incredibly gracious in inviting me on as a co-writer and director,” says Freyne. “No matter the oddities I brought in or how foundational the changes, they put their entire might behind me, and that was an insane boost of confidence.”
As Freyne completed a rewrite and dove into an elaborate design phase, a further boost of confidence came as actors started reacting to the script. Miles Teller, acclaimed for work ranging from the intense drama of Whiplash to blockbuster Top Gun: Maverick, was inspired to switch to a new gear to embody Larry Cutler’s humble bid to win over his spouse all over again.
“Eternity was one of the funniest scripts I’ve read in my life, and that got me excited,” Teller recalls. “It’s been a minute since I’ve done comedy, and I’d forgotten just how freeing the form can be at its most creative. But this is one of those comedies that also has poetic, beautiful scenes dealing with life, love, and loss, and for me that was a powerful combination.”
Elizabeth Olsen, award-winning in Martha Marcy May Marlene and known worldwide as Marvel superhero the Scarlet Witch, felt her own heartbeat accelerating in the face of Joan’s impossible choice.
“This is not your ordinary love triangle, because Joan has to make a decision about love outside all the normal framing of earthly time and circumstances,” Olsen notes. “Her decision is truly about forever this time, and I was so drawn to that dilemma. And I also just loved that David wanted to bring these characters into the most beautifully cinematic world of imagination.”
The runaway potential for creativity was also a lure for Callum Turner, the charismatic young lead seen in Masters of the Air, The Capture, and the Fantastic Beasts series. “Eternity is a visually amazing, sparkling comedy that takes its characters on an emotional journey,” Turner, says. “This is the kind of movie everyone loves but, people say, ‘no one makes anymore.’”
Pat Cunnane served in President Obama’s White House for six years, including as his Senior Writer and Deputy Director of Messaging. In 2017, Pat transitioned from writing for the real White House to a fake one on ABC’s Designated Survivor. Since then, Pat has set up features at many studios and had multiple scripts land on The Black List, including Eternity. It was recently announced that Pat and Miles Teller will re-team with Star Thrower for Winter Games at Paramount, which will see Teller star opposite Hailee Steinfeld. Pat has additional feature projects at Sony, Netflix, Amazon, and Artists Equity. On the TV side, Pat has current pilots at Netflix, Amazon, and NBC. He wrote a memoir, West Winging It, which was published by Gallery Books (Simon & Schuster). Pat lives just outside Philadelphia with his wife Stephanie, whom he met in second grade, and their daughters, Ella and Kaya.
David Freyne is a writer and director from Ireland. Following a degree in English and Philosophy, David did a Film Studies Masters in UCD where he focused on Production Design. Although his passion was always for writing and directing. David made several award-winning short films, including The Man In 301, Passing, and The Tree. His first feature was The Cured, starring Elliot Page. The film screened at TIFF, London Film Festival, Sitges, as well as winning Best Horror Feature at Fantastic Fest. David’s follow up is the acclaimed comedy drama, Dating Amber, starring Sharon Horgan. This semi-autobiographical film received numerous awards including the Audience Award at NewFest and the Pink News Best Feature Film, as well 2 IFTA awards. He is currently adapting it for the stage. David’s latest film is the high-concept romantic comedy, Eternity, for A24. It stars Elizabeth Olsen, Miles Teller, Callum Turner, and Da’Vine Joy Randolph.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Frankenstein: A Conversation with Guillermo del Toro
From Oscar-winning filmmaker Guillermo del Toro comes Frankenstein, the definitive retelling of Mary Shelley’s genre-defining novel of life and death — an epic drama about what it means to be human, to crave love, and seek understanding.
Golden Globe-winner Oscar Isaac plays the brilliant but tortured scientist Victor Frankenstein, who embarks on an ego-driven quest to bring new life into this world, resulting in the Creature (Jacob Elordi), whose very existence provokes questions about what it means to be a human and what it really means to be a monster. This sprawling epic takes audiences from the remote reaches of the Arctic to the bloody battlefields of 19th-century Europe, as Frankenstein and his Creature go on their own search for meaning in a world that can seem quite mad.
Pinocchio and Frankenstein were defining stories for you, and you’ve now made these two films in immediate succession. What does that represent for you both on a personal level and as an artist? DEL TORO: Certain books and stories become part of your DNA. Two of the closest things to me are Pinocchio and Frankenstein. This movie, I wanted to do before I even had a camera, before I even knew how to direct. When I saw Boris Karloff crossing the threshold as a kid [in Universal’s 1931 adaptation of Frankenstein], to me, it was a religious moment because everything I thought about Catholic imagery made sense. I thought, “This is a supernatural thing, and that’s me. That is who I am. That’s why I don’t fit.” I ended up making them basically back-to-back at a time when I lost my father and I lost my mother, and I really had to wonder about who I am because you become nobody’s child. The fact that that happened made them both deeper.
In adapting Mary Shelley’s novel, were there specific elements of the text you wanted to hone in on? How did you approach writing the script?
DEL TORO: The book has a lot of anxiety, the anxiety that you get when you’re an adolescent and you don’t understand why everybody lies about the world. The book has that fidgety sort of energy. It wants to question capitalism. It wants to question, “Who am I? Why am I here? What did God send me? What is my purpose? What is the world?” I wanted to capture that anxiety. I tried to absorb the style of dialogue and the themes. A lot of the dialogue [in the film] is entirely original, but it has the patois and the rhythms of Mary Shelley. When English is your second language, you are trained very acutely to the melody and the rhythms of a language. It has a particular rhythm, the dialogue in the book. I tried to make the dialogue be like that without sounding archaic. Mary Shelley, when she wrote Frankenstein, it was not a period piece. It was a modern book, so I didn’t want you to see a pastel-colored period piece. I wanted Victor to be dressed like Mick Jagger in Soho in 1970. I wanted the wardrobe to be luscious and full of colour, and the sets to be a little too colourful and to colour-code everything very carefully. Adapting, I say, is like marrying a widow, right? You have to respect the memory of the late husband, but on Saturdays, you’ve got to get some action. So, you have to take the book and make it yours. Otherwise, why are you doing it?
How did you approach the character of Victor? He’s far from a conventional hero. DEL TORO: If you look at my movies all the way to Nightmare Alley, I have very distinct villains and heroes. Like all tyrants, Victor believes himself to be a victim. Everybody who is a tyrant loves being a victim: “Poor me,” and in the meantime, they’re destroying everybody’s life. That’s Victor. But everybody in the movie has a failing and a lack. I love that. They all need love, because that’s the only answer, right? I think it’s a very tender movie. For me, it’s a melodrama and a drama. I don’t see it in terms of a horror movie.
You mentioned that you carefully colour-coded the movie. Could you explain some of the symbolism we see on screen? DEL TORO: The idea for me is that childhood is black and white and red — the mother and the home are red. So if Victor loses that, that’s the colour that should haunt him. The rest of the movie, he’s the only character that wears red — red gloves, red scarf. His childhood is lacking colour. Was his childhood like that? I don’t think it was. I don’t think his father came in with a billowing cape, like a villain out of a horror movie, but that’s the way he remembers it. The childhood is shot the way he remembers because he’s telling the story — and he lies. He lies to himself and the audience. I start [work on the colour palette] before the movie [goes into production]. I hire a few people, and we take a deep dive into the shapes and colours. We do a huge mood board. We say, “These are the colours that are coding the movie.” Directing is directing all those elements to tell the same story, so you don’t feel wardrobe pulling one way and architecture pulling another. These are not isolated ideas that occur at the same time. This is a symphony. You are directing an opera, and you are leading to the same emotional point.
You went to great lengths to build sprawling physical sets and to visit real-world locations, to capture as much in-camera as possible. Why? DEL TORO: I wanted the movie to test the capabilities of every single craft in moviemaking. There are huge sets, huge props, and a complex wardrobe. I wanted it to feel like an old movie that was made in the heyday of Hollywood. I want it to be luscious and beautiful and operatic. I said, “I’m not going to do VFX on the ship. I want a real ship and when the Creature moves it, I want the Creature to move it.” So we mounted it on a mechanical gimbal. That ship is a huge feat.
Most people would now build 20 feet of the ship, and the rest would be digital, but we wanted to make it a very dramatic, romantic declaration of an image. You open with that, you’re in the movie. You’re in the spirit of Mary Shelley. The one thing you know in this movie is that everything was created, and most of it was handmade. You have real puppets, real giant ships moving, real sets, real locations. We travelled a caravan of people for hours and hours to find one room that looked the right way. Everything has a curation and a dedication and a passion that is very uncommon in films these days. We wanted to make an old-fashioned, beautiful production of operatic scale made by humans.
How did that philosophy apply to the design of the Creature overseen by designer and prosthetics expert Mike Hill? The two of you share a deep and abiding love for this character. DEL TORO: Mike and I are Frankenstein heads. I have a whole room [in my home] dedicated to Frankenstein, and Mike builds the things that are in my room for Frankenstein. We are groupies. We know every scar, every hair, every wrinkle. We started many, many months, years [in advance] to plan it. We knew we wanted it to be beautiful and otherworldly. I wanted it to be like a marble statue; I wanted the head to remind the people of those phrenology heads. Mike started sculpting, and I would come in and draw over the sculpture. I think the creature is remarkable because the makeup needs to tell you that he’s made of pieces. Why is he made of pieces? That’s one thing I wanted to know. Because really, if you are Victor Frankenstein and you go to a cemetery, you grab a body, you grab a head. That’s it. But if they give you the pieces of a battlefield, then that explains why he’s putting it together like a jigsaw puzzle. He’s working with a bunch of mutilated corpses — that’s why I wanted to bring the war into it. This is a resurrected soldier out of a mass grave, basically. The makeup needed to reflect that but have a beauty. He needs to feel like a baby, and then he needs to feel like a philosopher, like a man. The growth of the Creature is one of the salient things that Mary Shelley did in the book and this movie does. We track the growth of the Creature into a man.
Having longed to make this film for so much of your life, what does it mean to you now to have completed your Frankenstein? DEL TORO: Frankenstein is the end of something. What it is, I don’t know. I didn’t plan it to be that… I was talking to [the late illustrator] Bernie Wrightson over dinner one day, and I [commented on] how his style changed after [the release of a 1983 edition of ] Frankenstein [featuring 47 of his images]. He said, when he finished that book, “I never wanted to draw another monster. I did many times, but my style didn’t have the hunger that led to Frankenstein.” I feel that. I feel it very acutely. There are elements of Frankenstein in Cronos, in The Shape of Water. Blade II is basically a Frankenstein story to me. This culminates a cycle — operatic, ornamental, camera moving very precisely — all those things [are] out the window from now on a little bit, at least is how it feels.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Anniversary – a provocative psychological thriller
Anniversary explores how even the closest family can be torn apart when inexorable social change disrupts their world and drives a wedge between them, exposing their frailties and destroying the fabric of their relationships.
The idea for Anniversary sprang equally from the head and the heart of co-writer-director Jan Komasa. “I always wanted to make a film that happens over the course of five, six, or seven years and to show the progression of lives and relationships,” he says, a storytelling puzzle that he found technically and artistically compelling.
At the same time, as the oldest of four children, Komasa — a Polish filmmaker whose 2019 drama, Corpus Christi, received an Academy Award nomination for best international feature film — was emotionally inspired by the idea of chronicling a large family’s evolution. “I was juxtaposing pictures from one Christmas with another and another, and I could see slight changes over the years,” he says of his own family. “It was always terrifying to a certain degree because this is something you have zero control over — time.”
Those two threads came together in Komasa’s vision for Anniversary, “a social apocalypse seen from the perspective of one family,” he says. “As those bonds are put in disarray, something that is seemingly coherent at the beginning becomes a mess.” He shared the concept with his agents, who felt a shock of recognition about the impact of social change on private ties — It’s something we see in our families, too,” they told Komasa. And there was only one producer they trusted to take on this provocative story: Nick Wechsler, “the No. 1 rock-and-roll producer to go to if you want someone with the guts to do something so different and so original,” Komasa says.
Wechsler, whose dozens of features include Requiem for a Dream and Magic Mike, brought on Kate Churchill (Spotlight) and Chockstone Pictures’ Steve and Paula Mae Schwartz (Wechsler’s fellow producers on The Counselor, The Road and All the Old Knives). “We became a new family,” says Komasa, and then it was time to find someone “who would take my concept and translate it into an American story,” as Anniversary was to be the director’s first English-language feature. Komasa found his storytelling partner in Lori Rosene-Gambino — an “under-discovered” talent whose work has made the film industry’s coveted Black List. “
Lori immediately caught the spirit of Anniversary, and she knew it was very nuanced,” Komasa says. “I was working with her over the pandemic, and we had many, many hours of conversations — we knew she would be passionate and meticulous, and she was.”
When he received Rosene-Gambino’s draft of the script, Komasa could see his film coming to life.
Rosene-Gambino and Komasa’s screenplay follows the Taylor family over the course of five years, from the parents’ 25th wedding anniversary to their 30th — a series of gatherings, a year or two apart, that reveal how a sweeping political and social movement, The Change, is destroying their relationships.
Writer Lori Rosene-Gambino says “The story began with an image of a seemingly perfect American family celebrating a milestone. But what happens when that celebration becomes a reckoning? Anniversary became a way for me to unpack how resentment, performance, loyalty, and belief collide behind closed doors, and how the desire to feel seen, or to belong, can turn dangerously personal.”
The Change
“It’s not a left-right thing,” producer Steve Schwartz says of The Change. “Authoritarianism is a disease that can come from anywhere. Everybody will have their own interpretation.”
“What makes the film unique is that it doesn’t moralise or take sides. This isn’t politics in the halls of power—it’s politics in our kitchens, bedrooms, and backyards. It’s about what happens when people feel unheard, unseen, or betrayed by the systems they once trusted. That disillusionment festers, warps, and finally shatters the bonds of family, revealing how the personal and the political have become impossible to separate,” says writer Lori.
Though ideas about human rights, freedom of expression, and climate change are debated among the family members, broader partisan ideologies are not. In the film’s second vignette, after Liz is seen carefully rehearsing for her introduction to Josh’s parents, Ellen is seen telling her students that she is “neither liberal or conservative. I prefer to be a free artist and nothing more — free from violence and lies.”
Even Liz, the mastermind of The Change, “is open to interpretation,” says Schwartz. “Some of the interpretations are political and some are completely apolitical. Was her attachment to Josh a ruse from the very start? Was it all just revenge against Ellen, or was it part of her strategy to advance her ideas? Was she always an extremist, or did she become more extreme from her association with extremists — or did she just crack at the end under the pressure of leading this kind of violent movement?”
For Komasa’s first English-language film, it turned out, “my Central European heritage played a big role in finding the right tone,” he says. “When discussing with the creative production team the political underpinnings of Anniversary, I always used the analogy of Polish history, in which people had the experience of living under tyrannies from the right and from the left alike.”
The idea for the altered American flag as the key visual representation of the movement arose from both its symbolic weight and its history of revisions. It would have been tricky to film the scenes with The Change flag in the United States, Churchill notes, had someone outside the production caught sight of it. “It’s a piece of cloth that people have died for,” Komasa says.
Anniversary tells a singular American story and centers on a specific family, but “the issues that this family is going through are universal at this point,” Churchill says. The Polish filmmakers, the Irish crew, and the American and British actors all could relate to the experience of seeing family and other close ties disrupted by seismic political and social shifts. Everyone on the set took ownership of the film’s mission to portray those rifts without landing in a specific place on the political spectrum.
“Audiences can expect to laugh, squirm, and maybe see pieces of their own family in the Thompsons. Anniversary is a smart, slow-burn thriller that draws you into a terrifyingly familiar home and then unravels everything you thought you knew about loyalty, love, and safety,” says Lori.
“In the industry, there’s so much disbelief that films like this can happen at all, and I’m a blessed, very lucky person to be given this chance.” says Komasa. “The 1984-like vibe that seeps into the film is the tone that makes ANNIVERSARY excitingly dystopian and thrilling, and steers it into a universal message about the ever-changing nature of reality, in which the only constant is love.”
JAN KOMASA (Director, Screenwriter) directed the Academy Award®-nominated film Corpus Christi (Best International Feature Film – Poland, 2019). Jan recently wrapped Good Boy, which will have its world premiere at TIFF 2025. Jan is attached to direct The Noise of Time with Thomas Kufus producing. Christopher Hampton penned the script based on Julian Barnes’ novel of the same name. Jan’s previous film, Corpus Christi, screened at Venice and Toronto Film Festivals prior to being nominated for an Oscar®in the category of Best International Feature Film at the 92nd (2019) Academy Awards®. It dominated the Polish Eagle Awards with 11 prizes, including Best Director, Film, and Screenplay. His previous film, The Hater, debuted in Tribeca’s 2020 Online Festival Program and won for Best Feature in the International Narrative Competition. It was released on Netflix.
LORI ROSENE-GAMBINO (Writer, Executive Producer) is a boundary-pushing writer-producer known for emotionally rich characters, bold themes, and complex, thought-provoking narratives that capture the cultural and political zeitgeist. Alongside her husband and producing partner, David Gambino (“Perry Mason,” The Judge), Lori recently sold the television series “Summer House with Swimming Pool” to Sidney Kimmel Entertainment. Based on Herman Koch’s international bestseller, the adaptation is a provocative, character-driven thriller about obsolescence, layered with biting social satire and ethical dilemmas. Together, the Gambinos are building an ambitious slate of film and television projects. The Gambinos also wrote and directed the short film Shooters, which garnered widespread media attention for its prescient subject matter and screened at numerous film festivals around the country. Lori’s work has earned industry acclaim, with screenplays featured on the prestigious Black List and recognized as a semi-finalist in the Academy Nicholl Fellowships. Her Black List script The Murderer Among Us — a riveting exploration of the making of Fritz Lang’s groundbreaking film M— was named one of Total Film’s “50 Best Available Screenplays.” A member of the Writers Guild of America West, Lori serves as a moderator on the Genre Committee and is a passionate advocate for narrative with purpose. She curates conversations at the intersection of storytelling, politics, and social conscience, and has recently moderated panels on social commentary in horror and the evolving landscape of political narratives in film and television.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on The Lost Bus: A Harrowing Testament to Courage, Community, and the Human Spirit
In The Lost Bus (2025), director Paul Greengrass and screenwriter Brad Ingelsby deliver a gripping survival drama that transforms a real-life act of heroism into a cinematic meditation on resilience, leadership, and the fragile bonds that hold communities together.
Based on Lizzie Johnson’s 2021 nonfiction book Paradise: One Town’s Struggle to Survive an American Wildfire, the film chronicles the extraordinary journey of Kevin McKay, a school bus driver who risked everything to save 22 children and their teachers during the 2018 Camp Fire—the deadliest wildfire in California history.
Greengrass, known for his kinetic style and documentary-like realism in films such as United 93 and Captain Phillips, brings a visceral immediacy to The Lost Bus. His direction balances suspense with intimacy, capturing both the chaos of the wildfire and the quiet heroism of ordinary people. Co-writing the screenplay with Ingelsby (Mare of Easttown), Greengrass crafts a narrative that honours the real events while exploring deeper themes of trauma, leadership, and moral courage.
The film’s inspiration—Kevin McKay’s decision to drive a school bus through flames and falling debris to save lives—serves as a powerful anchor for a story that is both specific and universal.
Matthew McConaughey stars as Kevin McKay, delivering a grounded, emotionally layered performance that eschews melodrama for quiet strength. McKay is portrayed not as a flawless hero but as a man grappling with fear, responsibility, and the weight of others’ lives. America Ferrera plays Mary Ludwig, a dedicated teacher who partners with McKay during the evacuation. Notably, McConaughey’s son Levi and his real-life mother, Kay, also appear in the film, adding layers of authenticity to the family dynamics depicted.
The film’s production was a collaborative effort between Apple Studios, Blumhouse Productions, and Comet Pictures, with Jamie Lee Curtis, Jason Blum, Brad Ingelsby, and Gregory Goodman serving as producers. Cinematographer Pål Ulvik Rokseth captures the eerie beauty and terror of the wildfire’s path, while editors William Goldenberg, Paul Rubell, and Peter M. Dudgeon maintain a taut rhythm that mirrors the urgency of the escape. Composer James Newton Howard’s score underscores the emotional stakes without overwhelming the narrative, allowing silence and natural sound to heighten the tension in key moments.
What sets The Lost Bus apart is its refusal to sensationalise tragedy. Instead, it focuses on the human choices made under pressure—the split-second decisions that define character and community.
The film explores how trauma ripples through survivors, how leadership can emerge from unexpected places, and how collective action can save lives. It also subtly critiques institutional failures, highlighting the gaps in emergency response and the burden placed on individuals to navigate catastrophe. In this way, The Lost Bus becomes not just a survival story but a call to recognize and support the everyday heroes among us.
The film’s significance lies in its ability to translate a localized event into a universal narrative. In an era marked by climate crises, The Lost Bus resonates as a cautionary tale and a tribute. It reminds viewers of the human cost of environmental neglect and the resilience required to endure it. By centering the story on a school bus—a symbol of safety, routine, and childhood—the film underscores the vulnerability of those least equipped to face disaster, and the moral imperative to protect them.
Ultimately, The Lost Bus is a cinematic act of remembrance. It honors not only Kevin McKay and the children he saved but also the countless others who face disaster with courage and compassion. In Greengrass’s hands, the story becomes a mirror—reflecting our fears, our hopes, and our capacity to act when it matters most. It is a film that asks: What would you do if the road ahead was burning? And it answers, with quiet conviction: You drive forward.
For audiences eager to experience The Lost Bus, the film is available to stream globally on Apple TV+
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Twinless: A Darkly Comic Meditation on Grief, Identity, and Radical Empathy
James Sweeney’s Twinless (2025) is a psychological black comedy that slices through the conventions of grief narratives with wit, audacity, and emotional precision.
Written, directed, and starring Sweeney himself, the film premiered at the 2025 Sundance Film Festival, where it won the Audience Award in the U.S. Dramatic Competition. At its core, the film is a twisted, tender exploration of identity, loss, and the fragile boundaries between connection and deception.
The story unfolds in Portland, Oregon, where Dennis (played by Sweeney), a young gay man, meets Rocky (Dylan O’Brien) at a diner. Their brief romantic encounter ends in tragedy when Rocky is killed in a car accident. Dennis, consumed by grief and obsession, infiltrates a support group for twinless twins—posing as someone who lost a twin—to get close to Rocky’s surviving brother, Roman (also played by O’Brien). What follows is a darkly comic descent into emotional manipulation, longing, and the search for belonging. Roman and Dennis form a bond that teeters between healing and unhealthy codependency, complicated further by Marcie (Aisling Franciosi), a colleague who begins to unravel Dennis’s fabricated backstory. The film’s climax—an unsettling hotel room confession and violent fallout—leaves both men isolated, yet strangely tethered by shared grief and fractured intimacy.
Inspiration
Sweeney’s inspiration for Twinless emerged from a fascination with twin bereavement support groups—a concept he found both peculiar and profound. “It’s such a splitting of oneself,” he explained in interviews, noting that while he isn’t a twin, the emotional terrain of twin loss struck him as symbolically rich and narratively underexplored.
The film’s title evokes not just the absence of a sibling, but a rupture in identity, a severing of mirrored selfhood. Sweeney’s writing process involved extensive research and structural experimentation, including a pivotal point-of-view shift that deepens the psychological complexity of the narrative. He also drew inspiration from Shakespeare’s Macbeth, particularly the witches’ incantation “Double, double toil and trouble,” which he saw as emblematic of the chaos and duality at the heart of his story.
Casting Dylan O’Brien was a deliberate and inspired choice. Sweeney first considered O’Brien after seeing his viral reenactment of a scene from The Social Network, and later admired his performance in the YouTube series Weird City.
In Twinless, O’Brien delivers a career-defining dual performance as Roman and Rocky, embodying two distinct personalities with emotional nuance and physical precision. His portrayal of Roman—a man grappling with the loss of his twin and the intrusion of a deceptive friend—is especially poignant, capturing the vulnerability and rage that accompany grief. O’Brien also earned his first executive producer credit for the film, underscoring his deep investment in the project.
Twinless is significant not only for its thematic ambition but for its tonal daring. It refuses to sentimentalise grief, instead presenting it as a messy, sometimes grotesque process of self-reinvention. The film interrogates the ethics of empathy, the limits of forgiveness, and the seductive power of shared pain.
Sweeney has described storytelling as “humanity’s coping mechanism for the mysteries and challenges of life,” and Twinless embodies that ethos with sharp dialogue, surreal twists, and moments of unexpected tenderness.
“I try to write with authenticity in all facets of a filming. Like, even though it’s not even in the movie — it was in the movie, we just cut the scenes —I needed to know what the characters’ jobs were. To me, it all helps build. I like laying the bricks because it just helps me understand who these characters are. I guess in terms of twin research, I have always been interested in twins. I remember reading psychology studies about twins, because they’re sort of like the perfect specimen, in high school, and when I was researching for this script about twin bereavement and twin psychology, I was reading books, and I was talking to friends. Also, we cast all twin actors in the support group, including the background talent, so I felt like I had insight along the way, and I kind of just listened to and also imagined what was appropriate and organically made sense for these characters. “
In a cinematic landscape often dominated by formulaic grief dramas, Twinless stands out as a bold, genre-defying work that blends psychological insight with dark humour. It is a film about the lies we tell to feel less alone, the truths that shatter us, and the strange, stubborn ways we seek connection. For Sweeney, it is a lasting artistic legacy—a sly dose of empathy wrapped in chaos, comedy, and radical vulnerability.
Distributed by Lionsgate and Roadside Attractions in the United States, and Sony Pictures Releasing International abroad, Twinless became available for streaming and theatrical release from September 5, 2025. You can stream Twinless (2025) on Prime Video, Apple TV, Google Play Movies, YouTube, and Fandango At Home.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Wicked: For Good – Destiny, Defiance, and the Power of Perspective
Last year’s global cinematic cultural sensation, which became the most successful Broadway film adaptation of all time, now reaches its epic, electrifying, emotional conclusion in Wicked: For Good.
In 2024, Wicked not only shattered box office records, becoming the most successful Broadway musical film adaptation of all time, but also reaffirmed why this story has forged such a deep connection with audiences around the world for more than two decades. Now, in Wicked: For Good, the emotional power of that story reaches its zenith.
“Wicked has always tapped into something universal,” producer Marc Platt says. “It is filled with spectacle, music and magic, but underneath it is a story about truth, perception, and the choices we make between good and evil. That is what gives it its power. It reflects the world we live in, how easily people can be swayed by illusion, how quickly we are to believe what we want to believe. And yet at its core, it is about compassion, courage and friendship, the things that make us want to do good in the world. What makes For Good so special is that those themes have only become more relevant. The story continues to ask questions about what’s true, what is right and what kind of world we want to live in. It is a reminder that even in a place as fantastical as Oz, the most powerful kind of magic is the human capacity for empathy and understanding.”
Wicked: For Good is also about courage, in all its forms. Elphaba is willing to sacrifice her own dreams and hopes to fight against an oppression of the Animals that her spirit cannot ignore. But it is Glinda’s courage in Wicked: For Good that, when joined with Elphaba’s, has the power to truly change their world for the better.
“The narrative of Wicked hinges on a decision by one character, Elphaba, to stand up, alone, in opposition to cruelty toward others,” director Jon M. Chu says. “Elphaba is not unlike Atticus Finch in To Kill a Mockingbird, who stands up for what’s right, regardless of the personal costs. We love these moral heroes because we all want to believe that if we were faced with the same choices, we would be Atticus or Elphaba, too. But most of us, if we are honest with ourselves, are more like Glinda. We are often a little scared. We calculate the risk of speaking out. We want to do the right thing, but we are afraid to risk what we have. Luckily, heroism has power and value no matter when we summon it. And in Wicked: For Good, Glinda’s decision to pop her own bubble and join the fight, when she knows full well the cost of that decision, is an act of courage as meaningful as Elphaba’s.”
L to R: Ariana Grande (as Glinda), Director Jon M. Chu, and Cynthia Erivo (as Elphaba), on the set of WICKED FOR GOOD, directed by Jon M. Chu.
This deep character exploration was aided by the filmmakers’ decision to split the Wicked narrative into two films. This allowed them to both expand the narrative and enrich the relationships between the characters. “There is the same wit, charm, and incredible music, but this chapter carries deeper emotion,” Platt says. “This film tells the story of how Elphaba and Glinda are torn apart by their circumstances and find their way back to each other. The people of Oz will never know that they are best friends, but the film’s audience will understand that their friendship remains unbreakable.”
In fact, says Chu, Wicked: For Good is really what the entire emotional arc of the first film was building toward. “It was clear when we separated the two movies that Wicked: For Good needed some additional elements to fully tell the story of these two women and their struggle to come back together,” Chu says. “Because now, the world is wedged between their friendship and that is a much harder mechanism to fight through than just cultural or personality differences. Now there is literal structure and government between them. Deep down, we knew that Wicked: For Good was always going to be the bigger story. The kids we fell in love with in the first film now have to grow up, and they have to make choices that will last a lifetime. This isn’t school anymore.”
For the stage musical’s composer and lyricist Stephen Schwartz and book writer Winnie Holzman, the chance to expand the Wicked story was a thrilling opportunity years in the making. “For all the years that the show had been running, Winnie and I had been talking about what we would do if the story ever became a movie,” Stephen Schwartz says. “When it was decided to make Wicked as two movies, we had more time to really explore the story and put in some incidents and some character development that we just did not have time for in the show. That was exciting.”
L to R: Ariana Grande is Glinda and Cynthia Erivo is Elphaba in WICKED FOR GOOD, directed by Jon M. Chu.
All those ideas that they had discussed over the years suddenly could step into the light. “It was this incredible opportunity to be able to revisit something that we had worked on very lovingly and that had reached audiences and really touched them,” says screenwriter Winnie Holzman. “These movies gave us exciting freedom and the ability to add things we had always dreamed of adding and some things we had never thought of adding that really deepened the story. We spent a lot of time figuring out what was going to make the second movie stand on its own and not feel just like the conclusion of the earlier story.”
It is almost unheard of for anyone to write two films at the same time because most second films are greenlighted only after the first film is released. This rare experience allowed Holzman and her fellow screenwriter, Dana Fox, to intentionally interweave the two stories in emotive, evocative ways. “We could pull thematic ideas through the two films and create images that we knew we wanted to flash back to in the second film,” Dana Fox says. “We wanted to have elements that made you feel emotionally connected to the first movie while watching the second movie. It was extraordinary to be allowed to plan all of that in advance.”
As part of that expansion of the narrative for Wicked: For Good, Stephen Schwartz created two new original songs for the film: “No Place Like Home” for Elphaba and “The Girl in the Bubble” for Glinda. “In this film, Glinda reaches a point of crisis where she just cannot continue to live the way she has been,” Schwartz says. “She has been insulated from what is really going on, cutting off her own morality and sense of decency in order to have the trappings of what she thinks she wants. Finally, there is a moment where she must confront this, and it felt essential that we take the time to have a song in which to do that.”
Elphaba’s song, by contrast, derives from a singular, and universal, emotion. “It was important to show how much Elphaba loves Oz,” Schwartz says. “Although it has not been very good to her, it is her home, and all of her heart and soul wants to stay there, fight for it and make it a better place. When you are born somewhere, that place becomes part of you, and you cannot really explain why. That is a universal feeling, and I tried to capture that in this song.”
Wicked and Wicked: For Good were shot simultaneously, which allowed the filmmakers to maximize the efficiency of the films’ spectacular built sets. For example, all the scenes in The Wizard’s throne room in both films were filmed in the same time frame, as were all the scenes set in Munchkinland, etc. This required all the departments to prepare the production design, cinematography, costumes, hair and makeup, music, stunts and more for both films at the same time. It also required the actors to play younger and more mature versions of their characters often within the same week. The mind-blowing amount of coordinated work demanded extraordinary organization, communication and creativity.
L to R: Cynthia Erivo is Elphaba and Jonathan Bailey is Fiyero in WICKED FOR GOOD, directed by Jon M. Chu.
“When you create a world people want to be transported to, you have to build one that feels magical and full of possibility,” Platt says. “Oz is whimsical and utopic. It has great beauty with its own colors, its own laws, and its own humanity. That is what makes it such a powerful fairytale world. But what makes it resonate is that beneath all the fantasy and wonder, it reflects our own world, both the one we live in and the one we wish we lived in. This story works because it invites us into a place of delight, charm and make-believe, yet its people and their struggles still feel real. We are transported somewhere extraordinary, but we recognize ourselves in it, and that is what moves us.”
For Chu, his aspiration for Wicked: For Good is that it transports audiences to a place that film has never taken them before, not just geographically, but emotionally. “For audiences, and for ourselves, we wanted this to feel like the epic conclusion of a friendship that was emotionally authentic, and that the heartbreak was balanced by hope,” Chu says. “We wanted the stakes to be higher, the temperature to be up, the scope to be bigger, the emotions to be deeper. Everything about this story converges here, now. On the other side of pain and betrayal and loss, there is also forgiveness, grace and love.”
With Wicked: For Good, composer John Powell once again joins forces with composer and lyricist Stephen Schwartz to expand the world of Oz through music that is both deeply rooted in stage-musical traditions and entirely cinematic. If the first film charted the blossoming of Elphaba and Glinda’s friendship, For Good confronts that friendship’s collapse and eventual reconciliation, and the score evolves to meet the story’s larger emotional and dramatic scale.
From the outset, Powell approached For Good as both continuation and reinvention. As the narrative sharpened into themes of fracture, truth and reconciliation, Powell recognized that the score required new musical architecture to carry its weight. His work on the first film had given him a deep command of Schwartz’s musical language, but rather than simply restating it, he used that foundation to transform and expand the material in ways that reflected the story’s heightened stakes. Alongside these reinventions, he composed a series of entirely new themes written specifically for this chapter, building a score that honors the legacy of Wicked while standing on its own.
The final chapter of the untold story of the witches of Oz begins with Elphaba and Glinda estranged and living with the consequences of their choices. Elphaba (Cynthia Erivo), now demonised as The Wicked Witch of the West, lives in exile, hidden within the Ozian forest while continuing her fight for the freedom of Oz’s silenced Animals and desperately trying to expose the truth she knows about The Wizard (Jeff Goldblum). Glinda (Ariana Grande), meanwhile, has become the glamorous symbol of Goodness for all of Oz, living at the palace in Emerald City and revelling in the perks of fame and popularity. Under the instruction of Madame Morrible (Michelle Yeoh), Glinda is deployed to serve as an effervescent comfort to Oz, reassuring the masses that all is well under The Wizard’s regime. As Glinda’s stardom expands and she prepares to marry Prince Fiyero (Jonathan Bailey). As an angry mob rises against the Wicked Witch, Glinda and Elphaba will need to come together one final time. With their singular friendship now the fulcrum of their futures, they will need to truly see each other, with honesty and empathy, if they are to change themselves and all of Oz, for good.
Jon M. Chu is an American film director, producer, and screenwriter celebrated for his dynamic visual style and commitment to inclusive storytelling. Born on November 2, 1979, in Palo Alto, California, Chu grew up in a culturally rich household—his father, Lawrence Chu, founded the iconic Chef Chu’s restaurant, and his mother, Ruth Chu, encouraged his early creative pursuits by gifting him a video camera. Chu studied at the USC School of Cinematic Arts, where he won multiple awards including the Princess Grace and Jack Nicholson directing honors. His breakout came with the Step Up dance films, but he truly rose to prominence with Crazy Rich Asians (2018), a landmark romantic comedy featuring a majority Asian cast. He followed this with In the Heights (2021), showcasing his flair for musical storytelling. With Wicked (2024) and Wicked: For Good (2025), Chu brings his signature blend of spectacle and emotional depth to the beloved Broadway musical, earning accolades for his direction and further cementing his role as a visionary in contemporary cinema.
Winnie Holzman is a revered American playwright, screenwriter, and producer whose work spans theater, television, and film. Born in New York City on August 18, 1954, Holzman studied English and creative writing at Princeton University before earning her MFA in Musical Theatre Writing from NYU, where she trained under legends like Stephen Sondheim and Arthur Laurents. She gained early acclaim for her emotionally nuanced television writing, most notably as the creator of My So-Called Life (1994), a cult teen drama praised for its authenticity and depth. Holzman made her Broadway debut with Wicked (2003), writing the book for the Tony Award–winning musical adaptation of Gregory Maguire’s novel. Her work is marked by empathy for misunderstood characters and a gift for reframing familiar stories through a more compassionate lens. Holzman co-wrote the screenplays for both Wicked films alongside Dana Fox, bringing her theatrical insight and emotional intelligence to the screen.
Dana Fox is an American screenwriter and producer known for her sharp wit, romantic comedies, and collaborative spirit. Born on September 18, 1976, in Brighton, New York, Fox studied English and art history at Stanford University before attending USC’s Peter Stark Producing Program. Though she initially intended to become a producer, a screenwriting assignment shifted her path. Her first produced film, The Wedding Date (2005), led to a string of successful projects including What Happens in Vegas (2008), How to Be Single (2016), and Cruella (2021). Fox also created the TV series Ben and Kate and is a founding member of the “Fempire,” a writing collective that champions female voices in Hollywood. Her work often blends humor with emotional resonance, and her collaboration with Winnie Holzman on Wicked and Wicked: For Good showcases her ability to adapt theatrical material for the screen while preserving its heart and complexity.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Sisu: Road to Revenge — Where Memory Bleeds and Justice Hunts
Sisu: Road to Revenge is the highly anticipated sequel to Jalmari Helander’s 2022 cult hit Sisu, a film that carved its place in cinematic lore through its brutal, stylised portrayal of resilience and revenge.
As Sisu: Road to Revenge opens, we’re reminded … “Sisu is a Finnish word that cannot be translated. It means a white-knuckled form of courage and unimaginable determination. Sisu manifests itself when all hope is lost.”
Indeed, that word defines the film’s unstoppable protagonist, Aatami Korpi, a silent and incredibly skilled ex-Finnish commando who, in the 2023 release Sisu, singlehandedly took on – and decimated – a platoon of Nazis retreating from his native home in Finland,duringthe last desperate days of World War II. A mix of gritty war drama and extreme and wildly inventive action, Sisu ignited a passionate audience that experienced the non-stop ride in cinemas, and millions more via home viewing.
Now, the legendary Aatami is back, and on the road to revenge. At the end of World War II, we find him entering a Soviet Border Station to continue his journey in the area that had been part of Aatami’s native Finland before it had to cede this territory to the Soviet Union. Desperate evacuees had been forced to flee across the border to Finland. Most of them will never see home again.
But Aatami is on a mission. Driving through a landscape filled with destruction, he returns to the log cabin home in which his family, including two young sons, had been brutally murdered. As a tribute to their memory, Aatami takes the structure apart, log by log, to rebuild it somewhere safe.
Meanwhile, the Red Army commander Yeagor Dragunov (Stephen Lang) has been given a mission – to kill Aatami. The two men have a history: Dragunov and his men destroyed villages that included Aatami’s home, and Dragunov is now on the hunt for the legendary figure, who had killed countless Red Army soldiers during the war.
The tragic and brutal history between the two warriors, and the backdrop of a desolate post World-War II Finland / Soviet Union, sets up a dynamic and electrifying battle for the ages, in which the embodiment of Sisutakes on his greatest challenge, in his most stirring and action-packed odyssey.
After the events of Sisu, ex-Finnish Army commando Aatami Korpi may have been expecting a well-deserved rest. However, writer-director Jalmari Helander knew that there was more of the character’s story to be told. “Sisu: Road to Revenge takes place two years after the first film, with Finland ceding approximately ten per cent of its territory to the Soviet Union,” he summarises. “Aatami has lost his family, and the only thing he has is his home, but the home is now part of a different country. So, Aatami decides to take his home back from the Soviet Union.”
That decision leads to a no-holds-barred journey that sees Aatami pursued by Dragunov and his mercenaries, one of whom is wielding a Molotov cocktail; motor mayhem involving motorcyclists and, eventually, tanks attempting to unleash hell on Aatami; planes opening fire – and dropping bombs – on him; and, finally, Aatami wielding … a missile … in a last-ditch attempt to turn the tables on Dragunov.
Petri Jokiranta has produced Helander’s feature films over the past seventeen years and has been a close partner in developing the two Sisu pictures, for their joint company, Subzero. ‘Petri was invaluable in putting this film together,” Helander explains. “My original idea was to have Aatami called up by the army for another mission, but Petri argued that it’s better for Aatami to do what he does best. Trouble needs to come to him, instead of him trying to find it.”
Jokiranta, in turn, points out that audiences identify with Aatami’s challenges, and want to see him succeed. “The starting point for these films must be simple and effective. For the action fans, there must be innovative action. On top of that, the story and mission must be relatable.”
Jokiranta further notes that with the new film, Helander has created another epic adventure for Aatami, taking the stoic and heroic figure’s journey to the next level. “An action hero must face great obstacles to overcome uniquely,” he states. “Aatami’s defining traits are ingenuity and perseverance. With that as our core and heart, we wanted to create inventive, well-structured, and powerful action scenes. Sisu: Road to Revenge is a relentless and uncompromising action story – and one hell of a ride.”
Producer Mike Goodridge confirms that Helander would not have made a second chapter of Sisu without a worthy idea that would build upon and exceed the high bar he set for the original. As Goodridge elaborates, “In this story, our hero goes back and dismantles his house to take it back with him to Finland. This is essential to Aatami’s story and launches a gripping continuation of the Sisu saga.”
Goodridge also notes that it was Aatami’s uniquely heroic qualities in Sisu that thrilled audiences around the world, and he believes that excitement will grow even stronger with this new installment: ‘I think Sisu really caught the hearts and imagination of the global audience because Aatami is such a superb underdog,” he says. “He’s this formidable hero that you root for. With SISU: ROAD TO REVENGE, you care for Aatami even more because you understand what has been driving him all these years.”
For the new film, Helander wanted to further explore the themes of the original. “You have the idea of Aatami trying to get his home back, then you must consider all that he must somehow overcome before he achieves that. That was by far the hardest thing for us to do – building and shaping action sequences that audiences hadn’t before experienced, so they won’t know what is going to happen next.”
As a writer-director, Helander brings many of his influences and inspirations with him to every project – something that, as Goodridge describes, makes him “one of today’s great action directors. But Jalmari also brings a lot of heart to his films. He understands this medium so well and delivers a powerful punch with everything he brings to life on screen.”
Actor Jorma Tommila has collaborated with Helander multiple times and always enjoys their work together. “Jalmari always brings so many fresh ideas about story, characters, and of course, action,” he says. “It is aways a great honor to work with him.”
As a newcomer to the world of Sisu, Stephen Lang was grateful for Helander’s expertise and openness in defining Dragunov. “Before we started shooting,” the actor remembers, “Jalmari and I would talk about the script and his plans. Jalmari was so generous in soliciting my input for the character and the motivations. So, before we even arrived on set, I was enjoying working with him. He’s got a great sense of humor and knows what he wants.”
When Helander was first plotting Sisu: Road to Revenge, he decided he wanted a landscape that was as close as possible to the story’s setting of Karelia, Finland in the late 1940s. But, as he points out, “Modern day Finland retains little, if any, echoes of the country’s post-World War II terrain, so we came to Estonia and found what we wanted in its landscapes, which are breathtaking.
“I wanted to find places big enough to fit the story,” he continues. “I also wanted the landscape to look like it had been abandoned – where the only people are Aatami, Dragunov, and the rest of those who are trying to stop Aatami. We also wanted to have this landscape look like a countryside from long ago, but with wide-open spaces in which we could capture epic action shots.”
With Sisu: Road to Revenge, audiences accompany Aatami on his epic journey home – experiencing, with him, an endless barrage of firepower and a seemingly unstoppable foe.
Tommila, like his on-screen alter-ego, a man of few words, simply hopes that Aatami’s journey will continue to resonate with – and thrill – audiences: “It’s a story with endless action, but I think it will also touch people with its unveiling of previously unexplored aspects of Aatami’s personality and life,” he states.
Goodridge believes that audiences will be blown away by the scale of the film, as well as by its emotional heart: “Sisu: Road to Revenge delivers the kind of thrills and action we expect, but in a more elemental and emotional way,” he points out.
Jokiranta admires Helander’s dedication to the action genre and hopes that audiences can see how much love the filmmaker and the rest of the creative team have put into SISU: ROAD TO REVENGE. “Jalmari continues to do what he does best – making films where the audience will leave with a smile. You know that this is a true labor of love for him, and for everyone involved.”
Lang adds, “The mayhem is so crazy and done with such panache and style because that’s what Jalmari does best. He’s all about style and taste. It has a memorable and fun in-your-face approach.”
Orasmaa says audiences will appreciate the opportunity to delve a little deeper into Aatami’s motives: “Moviegoers will not only experience the heightened thrills we remember from Sisu, but they’ll also understand what Aatami’s life was like during the war and how he came to be the man he is. It digs deeper while also pumping up the volume.”
Helander agrees and concludes, “We go deeper into the main character’s story, and go bigger with the stakes and with the action. This will be epic, emotional, fun and crazy in all the good ways.
“The emotion, the epic landscape and the bigger and bigger action set pieces really demand a big screen and an audience to enjoy it as it should be,” he adds. “The Atmos sound and the furious chase is meant for theaters.”
Sisu: Road to Revenge, a sequel to the original sleeper hit Sisu, is a wall-to-wall cinematic action event. Returning to the house where his family was brutally murdered during the war, Aatami, aka “the man who refuses to die” (Jorma Tommila) dismantles it, loads it on a truck, and is determined to rebuild it somewhere safe, in their honor. When the Red Army commander (Stephen Lang, from Avatar and Don’t Breathe), who killed his family, comes back hellbent on finishing the job, a relentless, eye-popping cross-country chase ensues. It’s a fight to the death, full of clever and unbelievable action set pieces.
Written and directed once again by Helander, this follow-up deepens the mythology of its central character, Aatami Korpi—a solitary ex-soldier whose survival instincts and silent fury made him a symbol of Finnish grit. Set in 1946, just after the events of the first film, Road to Revenge finds Korpi returning to Soviet-occupied Karelia, the site of his family’s murder, with the intention of dismantling the house brick by brick and rebuilding it elsewhere as a living monument to memory and loss. But his act of quiet remembrance is interrupted when Igor Draganov, the Red Army commander responsible for the massacre, resurfaces—forcing Korpi into one final, blood-soaked reckoning.
Helander’s inspiration for the sequel draws from the emotional aftermath of war and the personal toll of survival. While Sisu was a visceral survival tale set against the backdrop of World War II, Road to Revenge shifts the focus from endurance to legacy. It’s not just about staying alive—it’s about what remains, what’s worth rebuilding, and what must be confronted before peace can be claimed. The film’s narrative is steeped in Finnish folklore and post-war trauma, echoing the mythic structure of lone warriors who carry both grief and vengeance in their bones. Helander’s signature style—gritty visuals, sparse dialogue, and explosive action—returns with even greater emotional weight, as Korpi’s journey becomes less about killing and more about closure.
The significance of Sisu: Road to Revenge lies in its evolution of genre and character. Where the original film leaned into pulp and spectacle, the sequel dares to be more introspective without sacrificing intensity.
It explores the psychological terrain of a man haunted by history, asking what justice looks like when the world has already moved on. Korpi, played once again by Jorma Tommila, is joined by a formidable cast including Stephen Lang and Richard Brake, whose presence adds layers of menace and gravitas. With a budget exceeding €11 million, the film promises high production value and international reach, positioning Finnish cinema on a global stage while remaining deeply rooted in national identity.
Beyond its action sequences and revenge arc, Road to Revenge is a meditation on grief, memory, and the architecture of healing. Korpi’s decision to rebuild his family home is symbolic—a refusal to let violence erase the past, and a testament to the human need for ritual and restoration. Helander’s storytelling honors this emotional core, crafting a film that is as much about silence and sorrow as it is about bullets and blood.
Sisu: Road to Revenge stands poised to expand the legacy of its predecessor, offering audiences not just another chapter in Korpi’s saga, but a deeper, more resonant exploration of what it means to survive—and to remember.
Jalmari Helander is a Finnish screenwriter and film director born on July 21, 1976, in Helsinki, Finland. He first gained international recognition with Rare Exports: A Christmas Tale (2010), a darkly whimsical reimagining of Santa Claus rooted in Finnish folklore, which showcased his flair for blending myth, horror, and humour. Helander followed this with Big Game (2014), an action-adventure film starring Samuel L. Jackson, further cementing his reputation for crafting high-concept genre films with a distinct Nordic edge. In 2022, he released Sisu, a gritty World War II survival thriller that became a cult sensation for its stylised violence and stoic protagonist, Aatami Korpi. Helander’s work often explores themes of resilience, revenge, and national identity, wrapped in visually striking, emotionally charged narratives. Before transitioning to feature films, he directed several award-winning short films and television commercials, honing his cinematic voice through compact storytelling. He is also closely connected to his creative collaborators—his brother-in-law Jorma Tommila and nephew Onni Tommila have both starred in his films, adding a familial layer to his artistic legacy. In 2025, Helander continues to expand his mythic universe with Sisu: Road to Revenge, and has been announced as the director of John Rambo, a prequel to First Blood, signaling his growing influence in international action cinema.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Know Your Terrain: Writing Against Genre, Subject, and Doubt
Writing a story is never just about putting words on a page. It’s about entering a conversation, sometimes a cacophony, already in progress. Whether you’re crafting a novel, a memoir, a screenplay, or a short story, you’re stepping into a genre, a tradition, a lineage of voices that have spoken before you.
Knowing what you’re up against is not an act of intimidation; it’s an act of clarity. It’s about understanding the terrain you’re walking into, the echoes you’ll contend with, and the shadows you’ll either inhabit or resist.
To write with purpose, you must first recognise the forces that shape your creative field: the stories that came before, the subjects that have been mined, and the internal doubts that threaten to silence your voice before it’s even spoken.
To write with awareness is to write with integrity. It’s not about being defensive—it’s about being deliberate. When you know what you’re up against, you can choose your battles.
You can decide which conventions to honor and which to subvert. You can engage with your subject matter in a way that is informed, nuanced, and emotionally honest. And you can confront your own insecurities with compassion, understanding that they are part of the creative terrain, not a reason to retreat.
Awareness invites humility
You are not the first to tell a story about heartbreak, redemption, or revolution. But you are the only one who can tell it in your way. Your voice, shaped by your experiences, your obsessions, your contradictions, is what makes the story worth telling. And when you write with that awareness—of genre, subject, and self—you create something that is not just a story, but a stance. A declaration. A contribution.
So before you write, pause. Survey the landscape. Read the stories that came before. Listen to the voices that echo in your genre. Research your subject with curiosity and care. And look inward, not to silence your doubts, but to understand them. Writing is not a battle to be won—it’s a reckoning. And when you know what you’re up against, you don’t just write better—you write braver.
Genre is both a gift and a gauntlet
It offers you a set of expectations, a scaffolding of tropes, rhythms, and emotional beats that readers have come to recognize and crave. But it also demands innovation. If you’re writing a psychological thriller, you’re not just telling a suspenseful story—you’re entering a space dominated by masters of tension, twist, and psychological depth. If you’re writing speculative fiction, you’re contending with worlds built by giants, with mythologies that span galaxies and centuries. To know what you’re up against means reading widely within your genre—not to mimic, but to understand. What are the conventions? What are the clichés? What has been done to death, and what remains fertile ground? This is not about comparison—it’s about calibration. You’re tuning your instrument to the frequency of your genre, so that when you play your own melody, it resonates.
Subject matter adds another layer of complexity
You may be writing about grief, addiction, climate collapse, or first love. These are not neutral themes, they are emotionally charged, culturally saturated, and often deeply personal. Knowing what you’re up against means recognising how your subject has been treated before. What narratives dominate the discourse? What perspectives have been marginalised or erased? If you’re writing about mental health, are you perpetuating stereotypes or challenging them? If you’re writing about race, gender, or identity, are you speaking from lived experience or borrowing a lens? This is where research becomes a form of respect. Read the memoirs, the essays, the fiction, the criticism. Understand the stakes. Your story does not exist in a vacuum—it exists in a web of meaning, and your responsibility is to be aware of the threads you’re tugging.
But perhaps the most formidable opponent you’ll face is yourself
Self-doubt is the silent antagonist in every writer’s journey. It creeps in during the first draft, whispering that your ideas are derivative, your voice unremarkable, your effort futile. It masquerades as perfectionism, procrastination, and the endless rewriting of a single paragraph. Knowing what you’re up against means naming these fears, not as truths, but as patterns. It means recognizing that confidence is not a prerequisite for writing—it is a consequence of writing. You build it word by word, scene by scene, revision by revision. And you build it by showing up, even when the voice in your head tells you not to.
Self-confidence in writing is not bravado—it’s resilience
It’s the ability to keep going when the story feels broken, when the feedback stings, when the market seems indifferent. It’s trusting that your perspective matters, even if it doesn’t fit neatly into trends or algorithms. It’s believing that your story, in its specificity, can touch something universal. And it’s knowing that failure is not the opposite of success—it’s part of the process. Every abandoned draft, every rejected submission, every awkward sentence is a step toward clarity. Confidence grows in the compost of your creative missteps.
Competing with other stories in the same genre or subject matter is not a matter of outshining, it’s a matter of outlasting, outlistening, and outmeaning
When you write within a genre, you inherit its rhythms, its tropes, its emotional architecture. You enter a space already crowded with voices, some canonical, some contemporary, all vying for attention. But competition in storytelling is not about volume; it’s about resonance. Your task is not to be louder than the others, but to be clearer, truer, and more deliberate in your stance.
That begins with knowing the terrain: reading widely, identifying what’s been done to death, and locating the gaps—emotional, cultural, structural—that your story might fill. It means asking not just “What is my story about?” but “Why does it matter now?” and “What does it offer that others don’t?”
Whether you’re writing about grief, revolution, or romance, your story must carry a pulse that is unmistakably yours. That pulse comes from the specificity of character, of voice, of emotional truth.
It comes from the courage to subvert expectations, to challenge dominant narratives, to write from the margins or the mythic centre. And it comes from refusing to let comparison steal your voice.
Other stories may share your premise, your setting, even your themes—but they cannot replicate your rhythm, your obsessions, your scars.
To compete is not to mimic or outperform—it is to position.
It is to write with such clarity of purpose that your story becomes not just another entry in the genre, but a necessary rupture or refinement. In a saturated field, originality is not enough. What endures is emotional depth, thematic precision, and a voice that feels inevitable. So read the masters, study the trends, listen to the echoes—and then write the story only you can write. Not to win, but to contribute. Not to dominate, but to illuminate.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Plainclothes Unfolds Where Love Was Once a Crime
Plainclothes (2025) was written and directed by Carmen Emmi, marking his feature debut with a deeply personal and politically resonant romantic thriller set in 1990s Syracuse, New York. The film explores themes of identity, repression, and forbidden love, inspired by Emmi’s own coming-out experience and a real-life article from the L.A. Times.
Plainclothes is a taut, emotionally layered thriller-drama with romance, centered on Lucas (played by Tom Blyth), a young undercover police officer tasked with entrapping gay men in public spaces. As Lucas carries out his morally fraught assignment, he becomes romantically entangled with Andrew (Russell Tovey), one of his targets—a closeted man navigating the same oppressive terrain.
The film’s narrative unfolds through a cracked mirror of memory
Emmi chose a non-linear structure to reflect the fragmented emotional experience of coming out. This stylistic choice was born from a personal epiphany: Emmi realised he didn’t need to tell the story in a traditional arc, but rather through moments and emotions that mirror the disjointed recollections of a man wrestling with his identity. The result is a film that feels both intimate and expansive, capturing the tension between duty and desire, secrecy and selfhood.
Emmi’s inspiration for Plainclothes is rooted in his hometown
Emmi grew up in Syracuse, New York, his own adolescence during the 1990s, a time when the queer community faced systemic ostracization and surveillance.
He cites a specific L.A. Times article as a catalyst for the story, which detailed police operations targeting gay men in public restrooms. This historical context, disturbingly echoed in contemporary politics, gave Emmi a framework to explore the cyclical nature of repression and the emotional toll of living in fear. “If you wait long enough, the world moves in circles,” Emmi remarked, underscoring the film’s haunting relevance in today’s climate. His decision to shoot in Syracuse was not just logistical—it was symbolic. Emmi wanted the production itself to be a beacon of hope, a reclamation of space for those who have felt silenced or surveilled, whether due to sexuality or any other hidden truth.
The film’s emotional resonance is amplified by its cast
Blyth’s portrayal of Lucas is a study in internal conflict—his performance captures the quiet agony of a man torn between professional obligation and personal awakening. Tovey’s Andrew offers a counterpoint: tender, guarded, and ultimately transformative. Maria Dizzia rounds out the cast as Marie, adding depth to the familial and societal pressures that shape Lucas’s world. The chemistry between Blyth and Tovey is electric, and their scenes together pulse with vulnerability and tension. According to Dizzia, what drew her to the project was Emmi’s masterful blending of genres—thriller, drama, and romance—woven seamlessly into a script that felt emotionally legible from the first read.
Emmi’s journey to Plainclothes was not linear
Though he had been filming since age 10, he didn’t write his first short until high school, when a drama class assignment sparked his passion for storytelling. That early project, a horror short titled Alone, became a formative experience, offering him a sense of belonging and creative expression. Years later, Emmi would call his former classmate Lauren Stanton to act in Plainclothes, completing a circle of artistic and personal growth. His time at USC, where he studied production rather than screenwriting, further shaped his approach. Watching films like The Conversation by Francis Ford Coppola helped him understand structure and mood, and ultimately led him to embrace a fragmented, memory-driven narrative style.
Technically, Plainclothes is notable for its use of Hi8 footage
Hi8, a format popular in the late 1980s and 1990s, was originally used for home video recording. It produces grainy, analogue visuals with a soft, intimate quality—perfect for capturing the emotional haze of recollection.
It lends the film a grainy, nostalgic texture that mirrors Lucas’s emotional landscape. This choice reinforces the film’s central motif: the act of looking back, of piecing together a life from shards of memory and suppressed feeling. Emmi’s direction is restrained yet evocative, allowing silence and stillness to speak volumes. The film doesn’t rely on overt exposition; instead, it trusts the audience to feel their way through Lucas’s journey, to sit with discomfort and longing.
The footage appears intermittently throughout the film, often during emotionally charged or reflective moments, creating a visual rupture between Lucas’s present and his internal world. These inserts blur the line between surveillance and self-documentation, between institutional gaze and personal truth. In interviews, Emmi explained that the Hi8 segments were meant to feel like “found footage from Lucas’s own psyche”—as if the protagonist were subconsciously recording his emotional journey. This technique also nods to the era’s technology, grounding the film in its 1990s setting while giving it a timeless, haunted quality. The footage is often paired with Lana Del Rey–style soundscapes, further amplifying the mood of longing and repression. Critics have praised this choice for adding depth and texture to the film’s visual language, making Plainclothes not just a narrative but an emotional archive.
The significance of Plainclothes lies not only in its subject matter but in its refusal to end in tragedy
Emmi was intentional about crafting a narrative that offers hope—a rare choice in queer cinema, where stories often conclude with loss or punishment.
“From the beginning, that was exactly what I didn’t want to do,” Emmi stated. He wanted to leave viewers with a sense of possibility, a belief that even in the darkest corners of repression, love and truth can emerge. This ethos permeates the film, making it not just a story of forbidden romance, but a meditation on the courage it takes to live authentically.
Carmen Emmi’s journey to writing Plainclothes began not with formal screenwriting training, but with a deeply personal reckoning.
Though he studied production at USC, Emmi had never written a feature-length screenplay before this project. His breakthrough came when he realized he didn’t need to follow a traditional narrative arc—instead, he could structure the film like a memory, fragmented and emotionally driven. This approach mirrored his own experience of coming out, which felt less like a linear story and more like a series of ruptures, revelations, and quiet reckonings. Emmi immersed himself in films like The Conversation by Francis Ford Coppola to understand how mood and structure could carry emotional weight.
He wrote Plainclothes as a vessel for feeling, focusing on moments rather than plot mechanics. He chose to set and shoot the film in his hometown, transforming a site of repression into one of creative reclamation. Emmi’s early filmmaking roots trace back to age 10, but it was a high school drama class assignment that sparked his passion for storytelling. That first short, a horror piece titled Alone, became a formative experience—one that would later come full circle when he cast his former classmate Lauren Stanton in Plainclothes. Emmi’s biography is marked by a quiet determination to tell stories that matter, stories that excavate emotional truth and offer hope. His debut feature is not just a film—it’s a ritual of remembrance, resistance, and renewal.
In a cultural moment where queer rights remain contested and surveillance technologies grow more sophisticated, Plainclothes feels both timely and timeless.
It reminds us that the past is never truly past—that the ghosts of repression linger, and that art can be a form of exorcism. Emmi’s debut is a testament to the power of personal narrative, of turning lived experience into communal reflection. It’s a film that asks us to consider the cost of hiding, and the liberation that comes from being seen.
You can currently stream Plainclothes online via rental or purchase on platforms like Apple TV, Amazon Video, Fandango At Home, and Plex.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Coyotes: A savage, satirical survival thriller where nature bites back
Coyotes is a genre-bending horror-comedy directed by Colin Minihan, known for his work on Grave Encounters and What Keeps You Alive, and written by Tad Daggerhart (The Expendables 4) and Nick Simon (The Pyramid).
The film stars real-life couple Justin Long and Kate Bosworth, whose onscreen chemistry adds a layer of emotional tension to this survival thriller set in the Hollywood Hills.
The story centers on a fractured family trapped in their home during a raging wildfire, only to discover they’re being hunted by a vicious pack of coyotes. What begins as a domestic drama quickly spirals into a surreal, blood-soaked allegory about nature, fear, and the primal instincts that surface under pressure. Minihan was drawn to the project for its tonal complexity—equal parts satire, suspense, and creature feature.
The script’s blend of absurdity and dread allowed him to explore themes of ecological collapse, urban isolation, and the thin veneer of civilization. Daggerhart and Simon’s writing balances sharp dialogue with escalating horror, using the coyotes not just as physical threats but as metaphors for the chaos lurking beneath suburban order. The wildfire backdrop intensifies the claustrophobia, turning the family’s home into a pressure cooker of secrets, survival tactics, and moral compromise.
Story by…
Everyone in Los Angeles has a coyote story … whether they’ve awakened to discover the family cat has disappeared, leaving nothing but a fur-tufted collar behind; or found themselves followed by the yipping taunts of a pack trying to honeytrap their dog while hiking Runyon Canyon; or spotted a lone alpha stalking them down a dark downtown alley late at night.
Coyotes — and their tales — are as ubiquitous as LA’s traffic. While coyotes are lightyears smarter than most drivers here, both have achieved near mythic status.
During the WGA/SAG strike, while Nick and Tad were shouldering signs on the picket line, they started talking about coyotes and their experiences, and both realised that turning LA’s dumpster-diving, cat-stealing, unofficial mascot into a screenplay seemed like a no-brainer.
From writer Nick Simon – the inspiration behind Coyotes
For Nick, inspiration for Coyotes struck when he and his family were trapped in their Silverlake home for three days after the Santa Ana winds knocked out power to their neighborhood. While walking their dogs one evening, they found themselves trailed and taunted by a growing pack of emboldened coyotes. And — in that dusky neighborhood — when he could see the dim glow of light where power was restored a few blocks away, Nick understood — even in the urban heart of Silverlake — the savage bite of nature could always be at his throat.
In December 2011, the Santa Ana winds knocked out power to the duplex my wife and I were living in in Silver Lake.We lost electricity for three full days – and because the emergency release on our gate was busted, we were basically trapped inside. At one point, while walking our two rescue mutts, I realized we were being followed… by a coyote.
Then two. Then three. With the power out and the neighborhood pitch black, the coyotes grew bolder. I remember looking out the window and seeing the line where power had been restored – just a few blocks away – while we remained stuck in the dark. That’s when it hit me: how terrifying would it be to be trapped in your home with coyotes trying to get in? A home invasion story, but with nature as the invader. And the worst part? You can see help… you just can’t reach it.
I tried writing it a few times over the years, but it never fully clicked. Then in 2023, during the WGA strike, I was on the picket line with Tad Daggerhart, talking about shelved ideas we still loved. I pitched him Coyote, and like every other writer on strike, we decided to write it on spec. Tad is an incredible writer who also brought a much needed and brilliant sense of humor to the project, and I can’t wait to see it come to life.
From writer Tad Daggerhart – the inspiration behind Coyotes
Tad had a similar experience while horseback riding in the Angeles National Forest and a coyote plopped itself down in the middle of the trail, refusing to move. He’d never seen one assert such authority before. During what seemed an hours-long, leering stare-down, his mind whirled and he thought of how Coyote — the trickster god — discovered the first horse, how the US government waged an extermination war against coyotes for over half a century, and how — with one bad turn of luck — Tad could end up the main course in a coyote buffet. ~ Tad Daggerhart
Daniel Meersand – Story by …
While studying film production at Brooklyn College, Dan bluffed his way onto several tv and film sets in locations around New York City, beginning his industry career when he began getting job offers instead of contemptuously being “asked” to leave. As a writer and/or producer, he has worked extensively for broadcast television including the VMA’s, MTV Movie Awards, ESPN, SyFy and NBC Sports, for which he won an Emmy Award for his work on the 2004 Athens Olympics. Dan eventually walked away from broadcasting to study screenwriting at the American Film Institute Conservatory. Daniel’s feature film credits include THE PYRAMID (Fox 2014), and the thriller REMOVAL (Lionsgate 2011).
Director’s Statement
I read the first draft of Coyotes and started laughing out loud. It had bite. It had chaos. And most importantly, it had fun. I was sitting with Britt, flipping pages, both of us wide-eyed and saying, “Okay, this is f***ing nuts.” That’s when I knew I wanted in.
At the time, there were actual coyotes stalking our old dog in the Hollywood Hills. Every night felt like a horror movie. That real-world weirdness synced perfectly with the script’s energy. It wasn’t trying to be clever, or cool, or some kind of elevated genre exercise. It just was—wild, tense, funny, and totally unpredictable. A horror-comedy-action beast that actually had the nerve to entertain.
I’ve spent the last decade watching horror get more and more self-serious—movies that think they’re profound because they don’t actually say anything. Ambiguity has become a crutch. Somewhere along the way, people forgot that horror could be fun and still have soul.
Coyotes is a course correction.
This movie is sharp, fast, and unafraid to go for the jugular and the laugh. No social media screens. No hollow metaphors. Just characters who feel real, thrown into a story that knows exactly what it is and never slows down to apologise for it.
I also edited the film myself—not out of control, but out of instinct. This kind of movie only works if you keep the tone razor-sharp and the energy moving. Every cut needed to feel deliberate, alive, and a little dangerous.
Coyotes isn’t trying to be cool. It’s trying to bite. And hopefully, leave a mark.
~ Colin Minihan
Colin Minihan is a Canadian filmmaker whose bold, genre-bending stories are shaped as much by his love of horror as by his upbringing on Vancouver Island. Surrounded by forests, storms, and isolation, Minihan developed a visual and narrative sensibility rooted in atmosphere, tension, and emotional subversion.
He first broke out with the found-footage cult hit Grave Encounters, and quickly became known for taking genre setups and pushing them into unpredictable emotional territory.
His solo writer, directorial debut, What Keeps You Alive, premiered at SXSW, earning widespread critical acclaim for its tense, character-driven reinvention of survival horror. The film was listed as one of Rolling Stone’s “10 Best Horror Films of 2018” and later climbed into the Top 10 most-watched films on Netflix in 2020 cemented Minihan’s reputation as a filmmaker who blends craft, intensity, and heart. Minihan often writes, directs, and edits his films, giving them a cohesive, visceral rhythm that’s become his signature. He collaborates closely with his wife and artistic partner, Brittany Allen, who has starred in and scored multiple of his projects.
Tad Daggerhart is a writer and producer who recently penned the latest instalment of the Expendables franchise, and Black Lotus. He is a Screenwriting alumnus of USC, where he was awarded the prestigious Annenberg Fellowship and wrote the award-winning animated short, Traffic Cone.
Nick Simon is a filmmaker hailing from Sioux Falls, South Dakota, known for his distinct voice shaped by a Lebanese-American upbringing and his mentorship under Wes Craven. After graduating from the American Film Institute, Simon made his feature debut with The Girl in the Photographs, produced by Craven premiered at the Toronto International Film Festival. His credits include The Pyramid (20th Century Fox), Truth or Dare (a Netflix Halloween favourite), and the critically acclaimed Untitled Horror Movie, praised for its inventive production and biting satire of Hollywood. Simon most recently directed Entity Within, a chilling supernatural film based on the true “Entity” case, starring Heather Graham and Mimi Rogers. He is also a co-writer with Alexandre Aja on a branching narrative project for Paramount Pictures, and co wrote and executive produced Coyote, starring Justin Long and Kate Bosworth.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein: The Birth of a Modern Myth
Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus is more than a gothic novel—it is a mythic meditation on creation, ambition, and the fragile boundary between genius and monstrosity.
First published in 1818 when Shelley was just twenty years old, Frankenstein emerged from a convergence of personal grief, philosophical inquiry, scientific curiosity, and literary daring. Its origin story is as haunting as the tale itself, rooted in a stormy summer, a ghost-story challenge, and the imaginative fire of a young woman surrounded by poets and revolutionaries. Shelley’s process was not merely one of storytelling—it was an act of philosophical excavation, a reckoning with the forces of life, death, and human responsibility.
Conception
The novel’s conception began in the summer of 1816, during Mary’s stay at Lord Byron’s villa near Lake Geneva. The weather was relentlessly dreary, and the group—Mary, her lover Percy Bysshe Shelley, Byron, and physician John Polidori—passed the time reading ghost stories from Fantasmagoriana, a French anthology of German tales. Byron proposed a challenge: each guest would write their own ghost story. Mary, then eighteen, struggled to find inspiration until one night, after a conversation about galvanism and the possibility of reanimating corpses, she experienced a waking nightmare. In it, she saw “a pale student of unhallowed arts kneeling beside the thing he had put together.” This vision became the seed of Frankenstein, a tale that would fuse horror with moral inquiry.
Shelley’s intellectual inheritance played a vital role in shaping the novel. She was the daughter of two radical thinkers: Mary Wollstonecraft, the pioneering feminist author of A Vindication of the Rights of Woman, and William Godwin, a political philosopher known for his treatise An Enquiry Concerning Political Justice. From them, Mary absorbed a deep concern with justice, individual agency, and the consequences of unchecked power. Her upbringing was steeped in literature and debate, and she began writing stories as a child, often retreating into imaginative reveries. These early habits of “castle-building” and solitary dreaming laid the groundwork for her later creative process.
The novel’s subtitle, The Modern Prometheus, signals its mythic ambition.
In Greek mythology, Prometheus defied the gods by stealing fire and giving it to humanity—a symbol of knowledge and enlightenment, but also of hubris and punishment.
Victor Frankenstein, Shelley’s protagonist, mirrors this archetype. He seeks to conquer death, to animate lifeless matter, and in doing so, he transgresses natural boundaries. Shelley’s choice of subtitle invites readers to consider the ethical dimensions of creation: What are the consequences of playing god? What responsibilities does a creator bear toward their creation? These questions resonate throughout the novel, as Victor’s creature, rejected and unloved, becomes both victim and villain.
Scientific discourse of the time also shaped Shelley’s imagination. She was fascinated by the experiments of Erasmus Darwin, who speculated on spontaneous generation and the animation of matter. Galvanism—the use of electricity to stimulate muscle movement in dead organisms—was a hot topic, and Shelley incorporated its eerie implications into Victor’s laboratory. Yet Frankenstein is not a celebration of science; it is a cautionary tale. Shelley critiques the Enlightenment’s faith in reason and progress, suggesting that knowledge without compassion leads to ruin. Victor’s obsessive pursuit isolates him, blinds him to the creature’s humanity, and ultimately destroys both of them.
Shelley’s writing process was deeply personal and emotionally charged.
She had already endured profound loss: her first child had died shortly after birth, and she would lose several more children in the years to come. These experiences of grief and maternal longing seep into the novel’s themes. The creature, though monstrous in form, yearns for love, companionship, and belonging. His rejection by Victor echoes Shelley’s own feelings of abandonment and sorrow. The novel’s emotional core lies in this tragic dynamic—the creator’s horror at his creation, and the creation’s desperate plea for recognition.
Crafting Frankenstein required both solitude and collaboration. Percy Shelley provided editorial support and encouragement, though the novel’s voice and vision are unmistakably Mary’s.
She revised the manuscript meticulously, storyboarding scenes, refining dialogue, and grappling with moral dilemmas. Her notebooks reveal a writer who was not merely transcribing a dream but constructing a philosophical argument. She wove together narrative layers—letters, journals, and first-person accounts—to create a complex structure that mirrors the novel’s thematic depth. The Arctic framing device, in which explorer Robert Walton recounts Victor’s story, adds a further dimension: the pursuit of knowledge at the edge of the world, where isolation and ambition collide.
Mary Shelley took about two years to write Frankenstein, from its conception in 1816 to its publication in 1818.
The novel’s reception was mixed at first. Some critics dismissed it as grotesque or implausible, while others recognized its originality and power. Over time, Frankenstein became a cultural touchstone, inspiring countless adaptations, reinterpretations, and debates. Its influence spans literature, film, philosophy, and bioethics. The creature—often mistakenly called Frankenstein—has become a symbol of otherness, a mirror for society’s fears and prejudices. Shelley’s vision endures because it speaks to universal anxieties: the desire to transcend mortality, the pain of rejection, and the peril of unchecked ambition.
In the 1831 edition of Frankenstein, Shelley reflected on the novel’s origins, acknowledging the blend of dream and deliberation that birthed it. She described herself as a “close imitator” in her early writing, but Frankenstein marked a turning point—a work that emerged from her own mind, shaped by her experiences and convictions. It was, she wrote, “the offspring of happy days, when death and grief were but words.” Yet the novel is anything but naïve. It confronts death, grief, and the monstrous with unflinching honesty, offering no easy answers.
Ultimately, Frankenstein is a story about boundaries—between life and death, creator and creation, knowledge and wisdom.
Mary Shelley crafted it with the precision of a philosopher and the passion of a poet. Her legacy is not just the tale of a man who made a monster, but the enduring question: What does it mean to be human? In the shadow of lightning and loss, Shelley forged a myth that still flickers with relevance, reminding us that creation is never neutral, and that every act of making carries the weight of responsibility.
Synopsis of Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus
Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein unfolds as a layered narrative, beginning with a series of letters from an ambitious Arctic explorer, Robert Walton, to his sister in England. Walton, seeking glory through discovery, encounters a mysterious, half-frozen man drifting on the ice: Victor Frankenstein. As Victor recovers aboard the ship, he recounts his harrowing tale—a story of brilliance, obsession, and ruin.
Victor, a young Swiss scientist from Geneva, becomes consumed by the desire to unlock the secrets of life. At university in Ingolstadt, he immerses himself in natural philosophy and chemistry, eventually discovering a method to animate lifeless matter. Driven by ambition and a thirst for godlike power, he assembles a creature from stolen body parts and brings it to life. But the moment the creature awakens, Victor is horrified by its grotesque appearance and flees, abandoning his creation.
Alone and rejected, the creature wanders the world, gradually learning language, empathy, and the pain of exclusion. He secretly observes a rural family, yearning for connection, but when he reveals himself, he is met with fear and violence. Heartbroken and enraged, the creature confronts Victor and demands a companion—someone like himself who will not recoil in horror. Victor initially agrees but later destroys the second creature, fearing the consequences of unleashing another being like the first.
This betrayal drives the creature to vengeance. He murders Victor’s loved ones, including his best friend Henry Clerval and his bride, Elizabeth, on their wedding night. Consumed by grief and guilt, Victor vows to hunt the creature to the ends of the earth. Their chase leads him to the Arctic, where he meets Walton and dies shortly after finishing his story.
In the novel’s final scene, the creature appears over Victor’s corpse. He expresses remorse for his actions and declares his intention to end his own life, vanishing into the icy wilderness. The tale closes with Walton reflecting on the dangers of unchecked ambition and the tragic consequences of playing god.
Shelley’s Frankenstein is both a gothic horror and a philosophical parable—a meditation on creation, alienation, and the moral limits of scientific pursuit.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on The Running Man – An intense and unpredictable action thriller where anyone can be the enemy
A masterful portrait of an alternative, not-too-distant future in America, The Running Man was first published in 1982 under Stephen King’s pseudonym Richard Bachman and later reprinted under King’s own name in 1985 as part of The Bachman Books.
In it, King envisioned an authoritarian world run by an all-powerful corporation called the Network, where wealth (or lack of it) ruthlessly divides the population. A permanent underclass ripe for exploitation is plugged into nonstop Free-Vee, television programming featuring violent game shows where desperate contestants risk life and limb in humiliating and often dangerous stunts for cash. The deadliest game of all is “The Running Man.”
Into this world comes Ben Richards, a construction worker who has run afoul of the Network and is permanently banned from working for their subsidiaries — the only opportunity for employment at all. Previously adapted for the screen in 1987 starring Arnold Schwarzenegger and directed by Paul Michael Glaser, The Running Man returns to the big screen in an all-new adaptation directed by award-winning filmmaker Edgar Wright, with a script by longtime collaborator Michael Bacall and Wright.
“When I was a teenager, I was a huge Stephen King fan — I still am,” says director by Edgar Wright (Baby Driver, Shaun of the Dead). “I must have been 14 when I read The Running Man for the first time, and it really stayed with me. I saw the 1987 film version a few years after that, and while I really enjoyed it, I was struck by how loose an adaptation it was. So, for years, rather than remake that film, I’d wanted to do a new adaptation of the story that stays closer to the book that left such an impact on me, but the rights were never available.”
Then, a few years ago, Simon Kinberg, the Oscar-nominated producer of The Martian and the X-Men franchise, unexpectedly approached Wright to see if he would be interested in directing an all-new version of the classic novel.
For Kinberg, the idea of pairing Wright’s uniquely electric filmmaking style with such a colorful source material, felt like the perfect match.
“I’ve been a huge fan of Edgar’s work forever and have been trying to get him to direct a movie for me. With The Running Man, I knew it was finally the exact right match,” Kinberg recalls. “Partly, I knew that because I read a tweet from him saying that The Running Man is the only remake he would ever consider. But more, I knew that the combination of kinetic action, emotional character-centred storytelling, and the opportunity to create a cool, unique, incendiary version of the future – that looks somewhat like our own – would be the perfect material for him. I reached out to him with fingers crossed.”
The answer, as Wright recalls, was an enthusiastic yes. “It doesn’t often happen that something lands in my inbox that I’m already interested in,” Wright says. “I had long imagined a film that took the action out of the controlled atmosphere of the first movie and into the world at large, as it is in the book.”
Wright’s longtime producing partner Nira Park, with whom he has been collaborating since 2004’s cult hit Shaun of the Dead, also came on board – with The Running Man representing a turning point in both scale and personal significance.
“This film is the biggest film we’ve made together, and with the release date locked in from the start, we had less prep and post than we’re used to,” shares Park. “We knew it would be a challenge, but it also carried a different kind of weight – Stephen King is one of Edgar’s heroes, he loved the book since he was a teenager and he wanted a new adaptation to do it justice.”
Wright quickly got in touch with Bacall, with whom he had previously worked on Scott Pilgrim vs. the World. “When Edgar asked me to take a look at the book, I was struck by the raw emotional intensity of the hero, Ben Richards,” Bacall shares. “It jumped off the page.”
The screenplay was crafted by Michael Bacall (21 Jump Street, Scott Pilgrim vs. the World) and the team of Michael Bacall & Edgar Wright, based on the novel by Stephen King.
Unlike the first screen adaptation, which unfolds mostly within an enclosed arena, Wright and Bacall’s version sends Richards across a vast landscape of densely populated cities, rural backroads, and deserted byways—journeying from his home in the fictional Co-Op City through New York and New England as he tries to reach Canada.
“The tagline from the original 1982 novel said ‘Welcome to America in 2025, when the best men don’t run for president—they run for their lives,” notes Wright. “The fact that the book was set in 2025 and we’re releasing the film this year is a coincidence, but a fortuitous one. We never actually specify the year in the movie; but we imagined that it would resemble the vision of the future that King dreamt up in 1982.”
As in the novel, the action is seen almost entirely from Ben’s point of view to turn up the dial on the suspense. “Just like Ben, the audience never knows what’s coming next,” says Bacall. “We embraced the book’s premise that the entire country is the arena and the public is participants in the game. Bringing the audience along for the journey makes them feel Ben’s righteous anger. We were both excited to dive in and see where that led.”
In Wright and Bacall’s hands, The Running Man became an intense and unpredictable action thriller where anyone can be the enemy — and more than likely is. “All Ben Richards wants to do is earn enough money to get medicine for his sick child,” says Wright. “Moving through different environments and meeting different people as he tries to survive becomes steadily more dangerous as Free-Vee watchers are turned against him by the Network’s incendiary propaganda and the rewards they offer for information on his whereabouts.”
Looming over the action of The Running Man is a monopoly more powerful than any government, with tentacles extending into every aspect of daily life.
“The Network is an exaggeration of real-life companies that have lots of different businesses in everything from groceries to media,” explains Wright. “We’ve taken it a stage further. The Network is one all-powerful corporation that controls everything. They know your employment history, your medical history, they know it all. Going up against the Network is a seemingly impossible task.”
Governing through intimidation, misinformation, and constant surveillance, the Network controls the world. “They produce and distribute all the broadcast programming available,” says Bacall. “Every household is supplied a state-mandated television set subsidised by the Network. Free-Vee is a perfect vector for their propaganda. And you don’t just watch Free-Vee — it watches you back.”
The most popular programs are the game shows in which members of the public can win cash prizes. “All of them are cruel and most of them are extremely dangerous,” says Wright. “‘The Running Man’ is the deadliest of all. Three ‘runners’ try to survive for 30 days as they are pursued by a highly trained death squad. They can win cash prizes of up to a billion dollars if they make the full 30 days. It’s the most treacherous game of hide and seek imaginable. Wherever you go, millions of people are trying to stop you.”
Since no one has survived the full 30 days, anyone who agrees to be on the show is effectively signing their own death warrant. “And it’s the most popular show in the country,” says Wright. Other shows on the Network that appear in the film include “Spin the Wheel”, another deadly game show with a cameo by Sean Hayes as the host, and “The Americanos”, a Kardashian-esque reality show led by more fun cameos in Debi Mazar and Catherine Cohen. “When we were writing, Michael and I talked a lot about reality TV and how the narrative can be massaged and manipulated. Stephen King foresaw the next four decades of how reality television develop in The Running Man. The film’s audience will discover that the narrative of the show is constantly being interfered with for maximum entertainment.”
At the beginning of the story, Ben Richards, played by Glen Powell, is a family man simply trying to survive. Recently fired, with a wife (played by Jayme Lawson), sick daughter and mounting bills, he auditions for a game show in a last desperate gamble to keep his family alive. He has no intention of risking his life, but after a series of assessments, Network executives earmark him as the ideal candidate for “The Running Man.”
“There’s a lot of anger in Ben after being blacklisted,” Wright says. “He’s stood up to bullies and was punished for doing the right thing. The easy thing for him in life would be to play along or follow the herd, but he can’t do that. Ben has a very short fuse when it comes to injustice, and that makes him a compelling runner.”
Powell’s relatable everyman quality, used to good advantage in films like Twisters and Top Gun: Maverick, is one of the things that made him the right actor for the role.
According to Bacall, Powell instinctively understood what Wright needed from him. “It’s a demanding role, both physically and emotionally,” the writer says. “He maintained an unbelievable level of intensity over several months. Glen is a very natural talent. It never feels like he’s acting. We really hit the jackpot.”
Powell was drawn to the story of an average man facing impossible odds, something he says he often gravitates to and feels all audiences can relate to. “Ben Richards is the ultimate underdog,” he continues. “He and his family live in a poverty-stricken area. Cathy, his 2-year-old daughter, is extremely sick. He can’t afford the medicine she needs, so he takes a wild swing at these game shows. When he proves himself to be angry, charismatic, and volatile, he gets roped into the deadliest of them all. He signs up knowing that he may not come back.”
According to Bacall, Powell instinctively understood what Wright needed from him. “It’s a demanding role, both physically and emotionally,” the writer says. “He maintained an unbelievable level of intensity over several months. Glen is a very natural talent. It never feels like he’s acting. We really hit the jackpot.”
Powell was drawn to the story of an average man facing impossible odds, something he says he often gravitates to and feels all audiences can relate to. “Ben Richards is the ultimate underdog,” he continues. “He and his family live in a poverty-stricken area. Cathy, his 2-year-old daughter, is extremely sick. He can’t afford the medicine she needs, so he takes a wild swing at these game shows. When he proves himself to be angry, charismatic, and volatile, he gets roped into the deadliest of them all. He signs up knowing that he may not come back.”
Set in an almost strangely familiar future, the film is a 600-mile odyssey that starts in the fictional Co-Op City and ends in Canada, passing through New York and New England along the way.
“Our intent was to craft an alternate reality,” says Wright. “The film features little technology that doesn’t exist in some form today. But while some things have progressed, others have regressed. In the affluent Uptown districts, everything is polished and functions flawlessly, while in the poorer areas, even the simplest devices fail, reflecting a world where advancement and decay coexist side by side. Nothing works like it once had or still should.”
Ben Richards is forced to go on a blockbuster journey that transforms him from everyman underdog to revolutionary hero in The Running Man.
Written 43 years ago, King’s novel still seems remarkably current to the director. “The exciting and, also, striking thing to me was that a book I’d read nearly 40 years ago felt alarmingly prescient now.” Wright continues, “We’ve had decades of reality TV since then, and the spectacle has only grown more intense and corrosive. The Running Man captures the same appetite for entertainment that blurs the line between reality and performance, manipulation and truth.”
Producers Kinberg and Park note that the film’s mix of spectacle, adrenaline, and sharp wit is what makes it such a ride – a crowd-pleasing adventure that also has something to say about the world we live in.
“First and foremost, we’d love the audience to have a great night at the movies, to go along for an intense but highly entertaining ride and leave the theater wearing a huge grin,” says Park. “If they find themselves inspired by Ben Richards’ ferocious moral clarity, even better.”
Kinberg adds, “The genius of King’s book is that it speaks to everyone because it’s ultimately about the underdogs in our society – which is as relevant now as it was 45 years ago when he wrote it. It’s easy to root for someone who’s been beaten down by the system, and even easier when that someone is Glen Powell, in the hands of Edgar’s vision. So, the hope is that audiences have a good time, and leave feeling more empowered, more enabled to stand up to a system that’s becoming harder and harder for more and more people, on all sides of the political spectrum.”
For his co-writer Bacall, being reunited with Wright was everything he anticipated. “We hit the ground running with total confidence on my part that whatever he did would go above and beyond what was on the page,” he says. “Working with Edgar, you see these elements layering on top of the script. That creates a fantastic depth that can’t always be brought to the page but is perfect for a visual medium. He’s a real master at that.”
The result is a film that is thrilling, thought-provoking, and hugely entertaining – a reminder of why great stories never lose their edge.
“What I love about the film is seeing our character go on this journey from everyman to revolutionary,” says Wright. “The ambitious part of the film is how expansive that journey is. I hope audiences enjoy the ride—it’s a roller coaster of thrills, but there’s also plenty to think about long after the credits roll.”
EDGAR WRIGHT, p.g.a. (Directed by, Screenplay by, Produced by) burst onto the scene with the groundbreaking British sitcom “Spaced,” instantly marking himself as a bold new creative voice. He followed with two back-to-back genre-defining hits: the RomZomCom Shaun of the Dead and the action-comedy Hot Fuzz, both made with longtime collaborators Simon Pegg and Nick Frost.
Wright then co-wrote, produced, and directed Scott Pilgrim vs. The World, starring Michael Cera, Mary Elizabeth Winstead, Chris Evans, Aubrey Plaza, and more. The film quickly became a cult phenomenon that continues to gain fans every year. Its legacy inspired the acclaimed animated series “Scott Pilgrim Takes Off,” which Wright produced and which reunited the original cast.
In 2013, Wright completed what became known as The Cornetto Trilogy with The World’s End. He followed with the stylish heist-thriller Baby Driver, which earned over $220 million worldwide, three Academy Award nominations, and a BAFTA for Best Editing.
Wright’s 2021 slate showcased his range, with the psychological thriller Last Night in Soho and the music documentary The Sparks Brothers, a heartfelt tribute to “the greatest band you’ve never heard of.” He is currently in post-production on The Running Man for Paramount, screenplay co-written and directed by Wright, based on the novel by Stephen King (under the Richard Bachman pseudonym). The film stars Glen Powell, Josh Brolin, Colman Domingo, and reunites Wright with Michael Cera.
Beyond film and television, Wright has directed commercials for brands such as SquareSpace, Hotels.com, Nike, and McDonald’s, as well as music videos for artists including Pharrell Williams, Daft Punk, Beck, and Mint Royale.
MICHAEL BACALL (Screenplay by) Michael Bacall was born in Los Angeles, where he began working as an actor at 9 years old. He slowly built a resume of guest roles on classic TV shows, often as a convincing nerd or unconvincing bully, then grew into portraying the occasional stoner and becoming an all-around utility player (usually on the bench). He attended UCLA on a Free Willy residuals scholarship, then wrote and co-starred in the cult indie-film Manic. Known for genre-blending versatility, Bacall went on to write 50 million unproduced screenplays, and critically beloved films such as 21/22 Jump Street,Scott Pilgrim Vs The World and Project X, recommended in its NYT review for a Nobel Prize.
Bacall lives in Los Angeles with his family of overpowered amplifiers.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Famous Writers And Their Cats
Writers and cats have always shared a special bond. Cats, like writers, are willful creatures, who don’t like to be controlled.
There is a long recorded history of the love writers have for their cats. In fact, there are so many writers who have adored cats that it’s difficult to ignore.
Cats are elegant, mysterious, and beautiful. They are also ruthless and selfish when they have to be. Many cats have inspired works of literature including Edgar Allan Poe’s Catterina, Cleveland Amory’s Polar Bear, and T.S. Eliot’s Jellylorum.
Canadian novelist and playwright Robertson Davies once wrote, “Authors like cats because they are such quiet, loveable, wise creatures, and cats like authors for the same reasons.”
Most authors are creative introverts and cats fit beautifully into an introvert’s world. As the American author, Andre Norton said, ‘Perhaps it is because cats do not live by human patterns, do not fit themselves into prescribed behaviour, that they are so united to creative people.’
They say that a dog is a man’s best friend, but these writers found solace—and occasional inspiration—in another four-legged companion.
Sir Anthony Hopkins he loved to play piano for his cat, Sir Niblo
10 Spiritual Lessons You Can Learn from Your Cat
Do we rush through life without noticing our surroundings? Do we spend enough time caring for our own basic needs and comfort? Take a page from the feline playbook to keep you purring. By mimicking the behavior of the cats that share our homes, we can develop fuller, richer spiritual lives. From the patterns of play, to the need for sleep, to finding joy in the smallest of things, cats show us how to reach inside ourselves for higher goals, a less stressful life, and a newfound ability to purr in tune with the world. Photographs of prancing, prowling, and playful cats provide the necessary inspiration to make the most of all of your nine lives. Add Joanna Sandsmark’s inspiring book to your collection.
James Bowen, a homeless heroin addict, quit his addiction because of a stray cat he named (Bob). James found (Bob) injured in 2007 and began caring for him, which gave his life a purpose and aided him in quitting heroin and returning to a normal life. James Bowen wrote a book featuring the cat Bob as the main character. The book made it to the bestseller list and was turned into a film (A Street Cat Named Bob) in which Bob himself appeared. James has written several books starring Bob the cat, and he now works in supporting the needy and homeless, as well as charity work and rescuing street animals.
“He gave me this look, almost saying, ‘help’, but also ‘sort it out’,” said the author today. Bowen nursed Bob back to health, only to find the cat following him everywhere he went, even joining him when he busked and sold the Big Issue. The pair became well-known in London, going on to attract the attention of a literary agent, who sold Bowen’s story of how, with Bob’s help, he would get over his addictions to heroin and methadone, to Hodder & Stoughton. It also inspired two films. Bob the cat died in June 2020.
Marlon Brando – was American legendary actor who became iconic figure in 1950s for antisocial figure was also a great writer. He had photographed with his cats several times and Vito’s cat in iconic figure in 1950s for antisocial figure.
Marlon Brando once said, “I live in my cat’s house.”
He had a real love for felines, and gave a big movie break to a stray that was found by director Francis Ford Coppola on the set of The Godfather. Brando held the tabby in his lap throughout the opening scene, and people have thought it intentional brilliance ever since, reading symbolism into the hidden claws and softening the first impression of a mafia boss.
One of most important and influential writers in history, Charles Dickens once said: “What greater gift than the love of a cat?” He would sit entranced for hours while writing, but when his furry friends needed some attention, they were notorious for extinguishing the flame on his desk candle. In 1862, he was so upset after the death of his favorite cat, Bob, that he had the feline’s paw stuffed and mounted to an ivory letter opener. He had the opener engraved saying, “C.D., In memory of Bob, 1862” so he could have a constant reminder of his old friend. The letter opener is now on display at the Berg Collection of English and American Literature at the New York Public Library.
Mark Twain—the great humorist and man of American letters—was also a great cat lover. ‘I simply can’t resist a cat, particularly a purring one. They are the cleanest, cunningest, and most intelligent things I know, outside of the girl you love, of course.’ Twain kept eleven cats at his farm in Connecticut. When his beloved black cat Bambino went missing, Twain took out an advertisement in the New York American offering a $5 reward to return the missing cat to his house at 21 Fifth Avenue in New York City. It decribed Bambino as “Large and intensely black; thick, velvety fur; has a faint fringe of white hair across his chest; not easy to find in ordinary light.”
The feline protagonists in Stephen King’s novels lead haunted lives. In Pet Sematary, King tells a story of loss inspired by his family’s own tragic experience with their pet cat Smucky who was hit by a car. King’s cat-filled publicity photo for the movie Cat’s Eye, based on several of the author’s short stories, proves that the author’s fascination with the macabre didn’t stop him from being a cat magnet. This famous cat-lover wrote that ‘it might be that the biggest division in the world isn’t men and women but folks who like cats and folks who like dogs.’ The Shawshank Redemption author has owned several pets over the years, including “a rather crazed Siamese cat” named Pear.
‘The cat does not offer services. The cat offers itself,” says William Burroughs, who is known for his wild, drug-induced writings, but he had a softer side as well—especially when it came to his cats. He penned an autobiographical novella, The Cat Inside, about the cats he owned throughout his life, and the final journal entry Burroughs wrote before he died referred to the pure love he had for his four pets: “Only thing can resolve conflict is love, like I felt for Fletch and Ruski, Spooner, and Calico. Pure love. What I feel for my cats present and past. Love? What is it? Most natural painkiller what there is. LOVE.”
Aside from peppering his high Modernist poetry with allusions to feline friends, T.S. Eliot wrote a book of light verse called Old Possum’s Book of Practical Cats, a collection of 15 poems, dedicated to his godchildren, regarding the different personalities and eccentricities of cats. Names like Old Deuteronomy, the Rum Tum Tugger, and Mr. Mistoffelees should be familiar to people all around the world—the characters and poems were the inspiration for Andrew Lloyd Webber’s long-running Broadway musical, Cats. Later publications of Old Possum’s included illustrations by noted artist Edward Gorey—yet another avid cat lover. You can listen to Eliot read “The Naming of Cats” here.
Patricia Highsmith doesn’t have the friendliest literary reputation around (she once said “my imagination functions much better when I don’t have to speak to people”). But The Talented Mr. Ripley and Strangers on a Train author nevertheless found a perfect way to let her imagination function with her many four-legged companions. She did virtually everything with her cats—she wrote next to them, she ate next to them, and she even slept next to them. She kept them by her side throughout her life until her death at her home in Locarno, Switzerland in 1995.
Highsmith was an animal lover who absolutely loved cats, especially Siamese. She had up to six at the same time. Urich Weber, the curator of Highsmith’s archive, once explained that “she was very happy among cats. They gave her a closeness that she could not bear in the long-term from people. She needed cats for her psychological balance.”
She didn’t have the friendliest literary reputation around—she once said “my imagination functions much better when I don’t have to speak to people” nevertheless found a perfect way to let her imagination function with her many four-legged companions. Time and again they were the object of her literary and artistic work. She did virtually everything with her cats—she wrote next to them, she ate next to them, and she even slept next to them. She kept them by her side throughout her life until her death at her home in Locarno, Switzerland in 1995.
“A cat makes a home a home, a writer is not alone with a cat, yet is enough alone to work. More than this, a cat is a walking, sleeping, ever-changing work of art.” ~ Patricia Highsmith
British Nobel Prize-winning author Doris Lessing wrote of her affection for cats many times, but she felt a particular affinity for her pet El Magnifico. “He was such a clever cat,” she remarked to the Wall Street Journal in 2008. “We used to have sessions when we tried to be on each other’s level. He knew we were trying. When push came to shove, though, the communication was pretty limited.”
Ernest Hemingway and his family initially became infatuated with cats while living at Finca Vigía, their house in Cuba. During the writer’s travels, he was gifted a six-toed (or polydactyl) cat he named Snowball. Hemingway liked the little guy so much that in 1931, when he moved into his now-famous Key West home, he let Snowball run wild, creating a small colony of felines that populated the grounds. Today, some 40 to 50 six-toed descendants of Snowball are still allowed to roam around the house. Polydactyl felines are sometimes called “Hemingway Cats.”
American writer Ernest Hemingway is probably the most famous cat lover in the literary world, along with Mark Twain (who took his love of cats to such an extent that he refused to be friends with people who didn’t like cats and rented cats when he was on tour and couldn’t take his own cats with him).
Many of you are probably familiar with the Hemingway House in Key West, Florida, which is home to about 60 cats. Hemingway’s first polydactyl cat, named Snow, was given to him by a captain and marked the beginning of his love for these animals.
Many of the cats that live at the Hemingway House today are descendants of Snow and are well cared for by the staff there. It’s a fantastic place for literature and cat lovers. All Hemingway cats after Snow were named after famous people (Mark Twain was one of them, as he was Hemingway’s literary role model) – a tradition that the Hemingway House continues to this day.
“A cat has absolute emotional honesty: people can hide their feelings for some reason, but a cat cannot.” – Ernest Hemingway
Hemingway admired cats for what he called their “emotional honesty.” To him, they were unpretentious creatures—graceful, self-assured, and incapable of deceit. They lived entirely in the present moment, and that, he believed, was something writers could learn from: to face the world and one’s emotions without disguise.
Known to be a general cat lover during his life, this 18th century jack-of-all-trades was immortalized in James Boswell’s proto-biography The Life of Samuel Johnson.
In the text, Boswell writes of Johnson’s cat, Hodge, saying, “I never shall forget the indulgence with which he treated Hodge, his cat: for whom he himself used to go out and buy oysters, lest the servants having that trouble should take a dislike to the poor creature. I am, unluckily, one of those who have an antipathy to a cat, so that I am uneasy when in the room with one; and I own, I frequently suffered a good deal from the presence of this same Hodge.” Although Boswell was not a fan, Johnson called Hodge “A very fine cat indeed.” Hodge is immortalized, with his oysters, with a statue of his likeness that stands outside Johnson’s house at 17 Gough Square in London.
The Osaragi Jirō Memorial Museum in Yokohama, Japan is dedicated to the author Jirō Osaragi and features numerous cat ornaments as an integral part of its feline-themed decor. Osaragi wrote several novels connected to Yokohama, including Gento (Magic Lantern) and lived at the Hotel New Grand for over 10 years (in room 318). It’s often said that the Shōwa-period author cared for over 500 cats throughout his lifetime at his home in Kamakura, Japan—which is sometimes open to the public. Visitors can lounge on Osaragi’s terrace and sip tea while picturing the hundreds of semi-feral cats that once frolicked in the gardens.
Ray Bradbury compared parts of the writer’s creative process to cat ownership, saying that ideas, like cats, “come silently in the hour of trying to wake up and remember my name.”
His advice for writers?
“Treat ideas like cats … make them follow you.”
In his short story, The Cat’s Pajamas, two cat lovers fight over who will keep a stray cat they find in the middle of a California highway.
Though not overt, William Yeats’s love for cats can be found in poems like “The Cat and the Moon,” where he uses the image of a cat to represent himself and the image of the moon to represent his muse Maude Gonne, a high society-born feminist and sometime actress who inspired the poet throughout his life.
The poem references Gonne’s cat named Minnaloushe, who sits and stares at the changing moon. Yeats metaphorically transforms himself into the cat longing for his love that is indifferent to him, and the heartsick feline poet wonders whether Gonne will ever change her mind. Too bad for Yeats; Maude Gonne never agreed to marry him, despite the fact that he asked for her hand in marriage—four separate times.
Raymond Chandler had an immense influence on detective fiction and came to define the tenets of hard-boiled noir. He used femme fatales, twisting plots, and whip-cracking wordplay in his evocative classics starring the detective Philip Marlowe, including The Big Sleep and The Long Goodbye. But it wasn’t all serious business for Chandler because—you guessed it—he really loved cats. His cat Taki gave him endless enjoyment, but also occasionally got on his nerves.
Here’s a passage from a letter Chandler wrote to a friend about Taki:
“Our cat is growing positively tyrannical. If she finds herself alone anywhere she emits blood curdling yells until somebody comes running. She sleeps on a table in the service porch and now demands to be lifted up and down from it. She gets warm milk about eight o’clock at night and starts yelling for it about 7.30.”
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Now You See Me: Now You Don’t – The Avengers Of Magic
Dominic Sessa as Bosco, Jesse Eisenberg as Daniel Atlas, Isla Fisher as Henley Reeves, and Justice Smith as Charlie in Now You See Me: Now You Don’t. Photo Credit: Katalin Vermes
Now You See Me: Now You Don’t marks the dazzling return of the Four Horsemen in the third instalment of Lionsgate’s high-octane heist-meets-magic franchise. Renowned filmmaker Ruben Fleischer, known for blockbuster action hits, takes the helm, for which he immediately saw a myriad of opportunities.
“There’s something about magic that generates a feeling of wonder and awe that I absolutely love,” he explains. “It’s about not knowing how something is done and being amazed by it. I’ve been going to magic shows for a long time, and the opportunity to bring that wonder and enjoyment to a new movie in this franchise was irresistible.”
This new exhilarating chapter in the global motion-picture franchise is for longtime fans and for brand-new audiences discovering the magic for the first time. The Horsemen receive a new message from The Eye — the secretive global society of magicians dedicated to stealing from the rich to give to the poor — and take on their biggest heist yet on the world stage. The story crisscrosses the globe, from New York, France, and Antwerp to South Africa, the Arabian Desert, and Abu Dhabi, as the magicians evade capture while plotting to extricate a priceless jewel from a corrupt diamond magnate engaged in blood money laundering and market manipulation.
The stakes and scale, scope and spectacle have never been higher. Everything that disappears … reappears … bigger, bolder, and more mind-blowing than ever.
Since the Horsemen disappeared from public view ten years ago — as suddenly as one of their jaw-dropping illusions — a trio of young magicians has been following in their path. While life may have presented them with some harsh realities, Charlie (Justice Smith), June (Ariana Greenblatt), and Bosco (Dominic Sessa) have found comfort, thrill, and survival through magic. A skilled pickpocket even the Artful Dodger could admire, June is the team’s fearless firecracker, possessing a sometimes dry and dark humour, she combines with her own brand of energy. June is skilled in parkour and is an accomplished martial artist — and always fiercely loyal to the new band of Horsemen.
Now You See Me: Now You Don’tis directed by Ruben Fleischer, screenplay is by Michael Lesslie and Paul Wernick & Rhett Reese and Seth Grahame-Smith; the story is by Eric Warren Singer and Michael Lesslie; based on characters created by Boaz Yakin & Edward Ricourt.
Diamonds. Magic. Glamour. Race cars. Heists. Impossible escapes. A whirlwind journey from historic Europe to the futuristic city of Abu Dhabi. These are just some of the high-octane, high-glamour ingredients of Now You See Me: Now You Don’t, in which the legendary Horsemen return, with three intrepid new partners, to prove that the world still craves magic.
According to Fleischer, the ultimate way to experience that ride is in cinemas. “This is absolutely a movie that you must see in theaters, because of the scale and spectacle,” he comments. “This is not small-screen stuff. We have movie stars, epic locations, huge set pieces, and authentic magic. Now You See Me: Now You Don’tnot only deserves to be seen in theaters, it needs to be experienced in theaters to get the full experience.”
Director Ruben Fleischer in Now You See Me: Now You Don’t. Photo Credit: Katalin Vermes/Lionsgate
You don’t have to have seen the first two movies to love this one. It stands on its own while carrying all the magic, action, and fun fans already adore. As Ariana Greenblatt shares: “You could see how much fun we genuinely had every single day through the screen. If you hadn‘t seen Now You See Me and Now You See Me 2, you‘re in for a refreshing, fun, exciting treat. And it‘s going to make you want to watch the first two. And then watch the third one again for safekeeping.”
For Jesse Eisenberg, the film represents the culmination of a singular kind of world-building, in which magicians “band together to use their skillsets to create real world magic and real justice. I’ve loved this world so much.”
“The movie pulls the rug out from under you, the audience, in a way that brings you along for the ride. The things it celebrates are cleverness, limitless imagination, and teamwork.”
Producer Bobby Cohen sums it up, noting that the new chapter pushes the franchise further: “We’re giving audiences everything they love about the Now You See Me world—the spectacle, chemistry, illusions, international locations—but bigger, bolder, and without relying on visual effects. With Dominic, Ariana, and Justice, we’ve found a new generation of Horsemen worthy of the franchise, pushing it to new heights alongside our returning Horsemen. The alchemy just works. And honestly, I think we’ve made the best one yet.”
Ruben Fleischer is an American director and producer known for his kinetic, genre-blending style and sharp comedic instincts. Born in Washington, D.C. in 1974, Fleischer studied history at Wesleyan University before pivoting to filmmaking, cutting his teeth on music videos and commercials. He broke out with Zombieland (2009), a horror-comedy that became a cult hit and showcased his flair for balancing gore with wit. His subsequent films include 30 Minutes or Less, Gangster Squad, and the box office smash Venom (2018), which expanded his reach into superhero territory. Fleischer’s work often features ensemble casts, stylized action, and a playful tone that masks deeper emotional undercurrents. In Now You See Me: Now You Don’t (2025), he brings his signature energy to the illusionist heist franchise, steering it into more emotionally resonant and visually daring territory.
Seth Grahame-Smith As a screenwriter and producer, his movies have grossed nearly $2.5 billion at the box office, ranging from family fare like The Lego Batman Movie, to the highest-grossing horror movie of all time, Stephen King’s IT. He’s had the privilege of working with legendary filmmakers like Tim Burton, Ron Howard, and Steven Spielberg. As an author of three New York Times best-selling novels, he’s credited with creating the ‘mash-up’ literary genre with his novels Pride and Prejudice and Zombies and Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter, both of which sold more than two million copies worldwide and went on to become motion pictures. His books have been translated into more than 25 languages.
Michael Lesslie is a screenwriter, playwright, and producer whose projects have won international awards ranging from BAFTAs to Emmys®. His film of Macbeth premiered in Official Competition in Cannes to five-star reviews. His television debut “The Little Drummer Girl,” onwhich he served as showrunner for the legendary director Park Chan-Wook, also launched to five-star reviews, along with top ratings for the BBC. His film TheHunger Games: The Ballad of Songbirds & Snakes, stayed at number one in the global box office for multiple weeks and successfully relaunched the franchise.His plays have been performed at the Royal National Theatre and beyond, and in 2007 he became the youngest person ever to open a new play straight into the West End. Lesslie’s new projects include a film of Hamlet led by Riz Ahmed. He has also been writing the first-ever X-Men movie for Marvel, bringing the iconic mutants into the Marvel Cinematic Universe. Now he is developing large-scale film, TV, and theater projects with Netflix, A24, and more.
Lesslie co-founded Storyteller Productions in order to bring bold, global new stories to life. The company’s work includes the News & Documentary Emmy®-winning The Rescue, Ron Howard’s Thirteen Lives, and Michael Mann’s Ferrari. Storyteller is due to shoot two feature films in the next year, with more nearing production — including the first major film to be shot in space, to be directed by Doug Liman and to star Tom Cruise.
Writers/Producers Rhett Reese and Paul Wernick, partners since 2001, wrote and executive-produced Twentieth Century Fox’s Deadpool, starring Ryan Reynolds. The 2016 superhero action-comedy grossed $783 million at the international box office. Deadpool was nominated for Best Picture (Comedy or Musical) at the Golden Globes and won the Critics’ Choice Award for Best Comedy. Reese and Wernick also earned a Writers’ Guild nomination for Best Adapted Screenplay. Reese and Wernick subsequently co-wrote and executive-produced Deadpool 2 and Once Upon a Deadpool, which together outperformed Deadpool at the box office ($785 million). They subsequently completed the trilogy, writing and executive-producing Deadpool & Wolverine for Marvel/Disney, grossing over $1.3 billion, making it history’s single highest- grossing R-rated movie.
Reese and Wernick created, wrote, and executive-produced the critically and commercially successful Zombieland franchise, starring Woody Harrelson, Emma Stone, and Jesse Eisenberg. Zombieland and Zombieland 2: Double Tap each earned more than $100 million. Both rank on the short list of highest-grossing zombie movies.
Following Zombieland 2, Reese and Wernick wrote and executive-produced 6 Underground, an original action-adventure for Netflix, directed by Michael Bay and starring Ryan Reynolds. 6 Underground remains one of Netflix’s most-watched originals.
The pair wrote and produced Spiderhead for Netflix, based on the short story by George Saunders, starring Chris Hemsworth and Miles Teller. They also wrote and produced Ghosted, an original for Apple, starring Chris Evans and Ana de Armas, and most recently produced Eenie Meanie for 20th Century Studios.
Upcoming projects include Balls Up, an original action-comedy written and produced by Reese & Wernick for Amazon Studios, with Peter Farrelly directing and Mark Wahlberg, Paul Walter Hauser, and Sacha Baron Cohen starring, to be released in 2026, and Split Fiction, based on the hit Hazelight video game, starring Sydney Sweeney and to be directed by Jon M. Chu, for Amazon.
Reese’s and Wernick’s past credits include G.I. Joe: Retaliation, starring Dwayne Johnson, Channing Tatum, and Bruce Willis, for Paramount Pictures ($375 million worldwide), and Life, starring Ryan Reynolds, Jake Gyllenhaal, and Rebecca Ferguson, for Sony Pictures.
Reese’s and Wernick’s initial collaboration was in television, creating, writing, and executive-producing “The Joe Schmo Show”for Spike TV. The series drew Spike’s highest-ever ratings. “Joe Schmo”was named to numerous Best Of lists, including TIME Magazine’s Top 10 TV Shows of the year and Entertainment Weekly’s 50 Best TV Shows Ever on DVD. Reese and Wernick followed up with “Joe Schmo 2, 3, & 4”and “Invasion Iowa,” a high-concept comedy hybrid starring William Shatner. They returned to TV in 2019 with “Wayne,” a streaming series for YouTube Premium and Amazon TV. Reese and Wernick currently have “Twisted Metal,”starring Anthony Mackie, based on the PlayStation video game, currently in its second season for Peacock, and “The Continental,” based on the John Wick franchise, also for Peacock. They have several other new film and TV projects in various stages of development.
Prior to teaming up, Reese wrote movies for Pixar Animation Studios (Monsters, Inc.), Walt Disney Feature Animation (Dinosaur), and Warner Brothers (Clifford’s Really Big Movie), among others. Wernick produced several network reality shows. He won three Emmy® Awards for his work in news.
Reese and Wernick met in high school in Phoenix, Arizona. The two were inducted into the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences in 2024.
Eric Warren Singer, who conceived the story for Now You See Me: Now You Don’t, is an acclaimed screenwriter known for his cerebral thrillers and character-driven narratives. He earned an Oscar nomination for American Hustle (2013), co-written with David O. Russell, and contributed to The International (2009), Only the Brave (2017), and Top Gun: Maverick (2022). Singer’s work often explores ambition, loyalty, and the cost of truth, making him a fitting architect for a film that dances between illusion and revelation. His story provides the scaffolding for a narrative that is both dazzling and emotionally resonant.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on A PAW Patrol Christmas: Saving Santa’s Sleigh
A PAW Patrol Christmas is a heartwarming tale of resilience, teamwork, and the enduring magic of childhood wonder.
Set in the snowy world of Adventure Bay, the story unfolds when Santa Claus falls ill just before Christmas Eve. With the holiday spirit in jeopardy, Rubble—one of the franchise’s most beloved pups—steps up to lead the team. Their mission: to save Christmas from the clutches of the ever-mischievous Mayor Humdinger, who hatches a plan to steal everyone’s presents.
While PAW Patrol has long been a staple of preschool entertainment, this Christmas special elevates the formula by anchoring it in a classic holiday dilemma: what happens when the magic of giving is threatened? In this case, the answer is found not in sleigh bells or reindeer, but in the courage and cooperation of a team of pups who believe in something bigger than themselves.
Director Charles E. Bastien, a longtime creative force behind the PAW Patrol universe, brings a cinematic flair to the special. His direction balances action-packed sequences with tender emotional beats, ensuring that the story resonates with both children and their families. Writer Scott Kraft, known for his work on other PAW Patrol episodes, infuses the script with humor, heart, and a timely message about stepping up when it matters most.
The inspiration behind “A PAW Patrol Christmas” draws from both traditional holiday storytelling and the evolving role of animated specials in shaping seasonal rituals. In an era where streaming has transformed how families gather around stories, this special aims to create a shared moment of joy and reflection. The narrative’s emphasis on Rubble’s leadership also reflects a broader shift within the franchise, spotlighting characters who embody empathy, ingenuity, and quiet strength.
What sets this special apart is its layered appeal. For young viewers, it’s a thrilling adventure filled with snow, gadgets, and giggles. For parents and caregivers, it’s a gentle reminder of the values that make the season meaningful: generosity, teamwork, and the belief that even the smallest among us can make a big difference.
In the crowded landscape of holiday programming, “A PAW Patrol Christmas” stands out not just as a brand extension, but as a story with genuine heart. It invites families to pause, cuddle up, and remember that saving Christmas isn’t about magic—it’s about showing up for one another, paws and all.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Write What Burns: Escaping the Trap of Writing for the Wrong Reasons
There’s a quiet tragedy that unfolds every day at keyboards around the world. Writers—aspiring, seasoned, or somewhere in between—sit down to create, but instead of reaching inward, they reach outward.
They write what they think will sell. What will trend. What will please the algorithm, the editor, the market.
They write for the wrong reasons.
And in doing so, they silence the very voice that made them want to write in the first place.
Writing for the wrong reasons is a seductive trap.
It often wears the mask of ambition, practicality, or even professionalism. “Write what sells,” the industry whispers. “Write what’s hot right now.”
And so, stories are born not from passion but from prediction. Not from the soul, but from spreadsheets.
The result? Work that may be technically sound, even successful—but hollow. Forgettable. Unloved by its own creator.
This isn’t a condemnation of commercial success. There’s nothing wrong with wanting your work to be read, to be recognised, to pay the bills.
But when those goals become the compass instead of the destination, the writing suffers.
The writer suffers. Because the truth is, the best stories—the ones that endure, that move people, that change lives—are not written to chase the world. They’re written to reveal it. To challenge it. To heal it.
At the heart of every great story is a truth the writer couldn’t ignore. A question they couldn’t stop asking. A wound they needed to understand.
These are the stories that live inside us, the ones that whisper in the quiet moments, that tug at our thoughts when we’re trying to sleep. They’re not always marketable. They’re not always easy. But they are necessary.
Writing the story that lives inside you is an act of courage.
It means risking rejection. It means being vulnerable. It means telling the truth, even when it’s messy, even when it’s not what people want to hear. But it’s also the only kind of writing that matters. Because when you write from that place—when you write what burns—you create something no one else can. You create something real.
The world doesn’t need more content. It doesn’t need more perfectly optimised, trend-chasing, algorithm-approved prose. It needs stories that matter.
Stories that reflect the complexity of being human. Stories that make people feel seen, or challenged, or less alone. And only you can write those stories. Not the version of you that’s trying to be the next bestseller. The real you. The one who’s lived, who’s lost, who’s still figuring it out.
Of course, writing from the heart doesn’t mean abandoning craft. Passion without discipline is just noise. But when craft is in service of truth—when structure and style are tools to better express what you need to say—then you’re not just writing well. You’re writing meaningfully.
It’s worth asking yourself: Why do I write? Is it to impress? To escape? To prove something? Or is it to connect? To explore? To say something that only I can say?
These questions aren’t easy. But they’re essential. Because if you don’t know why you’re writing, you’ll be at the mercy of every trend, every rejection, every voice that tells you you’re not good enough.
Writing the story you want to write doesn’t guarantee success. But it guarantees authenticity.
In a world drowning in noise, authenticity is rare. It’s valuable. It’s what readers crave, even if they don’t always know it. Think of the books, the essays, the poems that have stayed with you. Chances are, they weren’t written to please. They were written to express something urgent, something true.
There’s also a kind of freedom that comes with writing for the right reasons. When you stop trying to please everyone, you give yourself permission to take risks. To experiment. To fail. And in that space, you often find your voice. Not the voice you think you should have, but the one that’s been waiting for you to listen.
This doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be strategic. It’s okay to think about the audience, to consider genre, to understand the market. But those things should serve your story—not the other way around.
Start with what you need to say. Then figure out how to say it in a way that others can hear.
And if you’re not sure what story lives inside you, that’s okay. Start by paying attention.
What makes you angry? What breaks your heart? What do you wish someone had told you when you were younger? What do you lie awake thinking about?
The answers to those questions are the seeds of your most powerful work.
It’s also important to remember that writing for the right reasons doesn’t mean writing is always joyful.
Sometimes it’s painful. Sometimes it’s frustrating. But even in the struggle, there’s meaning. There’s growth. There’s the quiet satisfaction of knowing you’re doing the work that matters—to you, and maybe to someone else.
In the end, writing is an act of faith. Faith that your voice matters. That your story matters. That someone, somewhere, needs to hear what you have to say. And that’s reason enough.
So write the story that scares you. The one that won’t let you go. The one that feels too big, too strange, too personal.
Write it not because it will sell, or trend, or go viral—but because it’s yours.
Because it’s true. Because the world doesn’t just need more stories. It needs yours.
And if you ever forget why you started, come back to this:
You are not a content machine. You are a storyteller. A truth-teller. A meaning-maker. And the only wrong reason to write is to be anyone else.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Cursed Legacy: The Inspiration and Impact of Jujutsu Kaisen: Execution
Jujutsu Kaisen: Execution (2025) marks a pivotal moment in anime storytelling. It’s a visceral, emotional culmination of one of anime’s most harrowing arcs and a bold leap into the chaos of the next.
As a theatrical event that fuses the final chapters of the Shibuya Incident arc with the opening of the Culling Game arc, the film captures the essence of Jujutsu Kaisen: the cost of power, the fragility of humanity, and the relentless pursuit of purpose amid darkness.
The Inspiration Behind Execution
The film draws its core inspiration from Gege Akutami’s manga, particularly volumes 11 through 16, which chronicle the Shibuya Incident—a turning point in the Jujutsu Kaisen universe. Akutami, known for blending horror, philosophy, and emotional depth, crafted this arc as a crucible for his characters. The Shibuya Incident was designed not just as a battle royale of curses and sorcerers, but as a psychological gauntlet that would test the limits of heroism, sacrifice, and identity.
Akutami has cited influences ranging from Neon Genesis Evangelion to Hunter x Hunter, both of which explore trauma and moral ambiguity. In Execution, these themes are amplified. The descent of a cursed veil over Shibuya on Halloween is symbolic—a festive day turned into a nightmare, where the masks people wear are stripped away. Gojo’s sealing, Yuji’s emotional collapse, and the rise of Sukuna’s terror all reflect Akutami’s interest in duality: strength and vulnerability, love and destruction, humanity and monstrosity.
Studio MAPPA’s decision to adapt this arc into a theatrical release was driven by its scale and emotional gravity. The Shibuya Incident is not just a fan favorite—it’s a narrative earthquake. By pairing it with the beginning of the Culling Game arc, Execution becomes a cinematic relay: passing the baton from devastation to rebirth, from loss to vengeance.
Significance in the Anime Landscape
Jujutsu Kaisen: Execution marks a pivotal moment in anime storytelling. It’s rare for a series to receive a theatrical compilation that isn’t a recap or filler. Instead, Execution is a curated experience—designed to immerse viewers in the emotional climax of Season 2 while teasing the philosophical and strategic warfare of Season 3.
The film’s significance lies in its structure. By blending two arcs, it mirrors the emotional whiplash of the manga: the grief of Shibuya followed by the cold calculation of the Culling Game. This juxtaposition forces viewers to confront the consequences of power. Gojo’s absence, the death toll, and Yuji’s guilt are not just plot points—they’re emotional anchors that redefine the stakes.
Moreover, Execution elevates the medium. With cinematic animation, a haunting score, and theatrical pacing, it transforms serialized storytelling into an event. It invites fans and newcomers alike to witness the evolution of anime as both art and catharsis.
Character Arcs and Emotional Depth
At the heart of Execution is Yuji Itadori. His journey—from hopeful vessel to broken warrior—is the emotional spine of the film. The Shibuya Incident shatters his innocence. He watches friends die, civilians suffer, and Sukuna wreak havoc using his body. His breakdown is raw, unfiltered, and deeply human. Gojo Satoru, often seen as invincible, faces his own reckoning. His sealing is not just a tactical loss—it’s a spiritual one. The film explores his isolation, his burden as the strongest, and the consequences of his choices. His absence forces others to rise, falter, and redefine their roles.
The introduction of the Culling Game arc adds new layers. Characters like Kinji Hakari, Yuta Okkotsu, and Hiromi Higuruma bring fresh perspectives. The game itself—a battle royale with philosophical undertones—asks what it means to fight, to kill, and to survive. It’s not just about power—it’s about ideology.
Visual and Narrative Innovation
Directed by Shouta Goshozono, Execution is a masterclass in visual storytelling. Goshozono, known for his dynamic direction in Jujutsu Kaisen Season 2, brings kinetic energy and emotional nuance to the screen. His use of color, framing, and silence amplifies the horror and heartbreak of Shibuya. The cursed veil becomes a character in itself—oppressive, omnipresent, and symbolic of despair.
The writing, led by Hiroshi Seko, balances exposition with emotion. Seko, who also penned Attack on Titan: Final Season and Mob Psycho 100, excels at adapting complex manga into coherent, impactful scripts. His dialogue captures the existential dread of Akutami’s world while allowing moments of levity and hope.
Together, Goshozono and Seko craft a film that is both faithful and transformative. They honor the source material while elevating it through cinematic language.
Shouta Goshozono is a rising star in anime direction. After working on key episodes of Jujutsu Kaisen and Chainsaw Man, he took the helm for Season 2 and Execution. His style is marked by fluid animation, emotional resonance, and bold visual choices. Goshozono’s ability to choreograph complex battles while maintaining character focus has earned him acclaim across the industry.
Hiroshi Seko is a veteran screenwriter with a portfolio that includes Ajin, Banana Fish, and Vinland Saga. His strength lies in adapting dense source material into emotionally compelling scripts. In Execution, Seko balances horror, philosophy, and action, crafting a narrative that is both thrilling and thought-provoking.
Gege Akutami, the creator of Jujutsu Kaisen, remains the soul of the franchise. Known for their reclusive nature and philosophical depth, Akutami has built a world where curses are metaphors for trauma, and sorcerers are warriors of empathy. Their writing blends shonen tropes with psychological realism, making Execution not just a battle film, but a meditation on grief and growth.
Legacy and Cultural Impact
Jujutsu Kaisen: Execution is poised to become a cultural touchstone. It’s not just a film—it’s a reckoning. It forces viewers to confront loss, question morality, and embrace transformation. In a world grappling with uncertainty, Execution offers catharsis through chaos.
Its theatrical release signals a shift in anime distribution—where key arcs are treated as cinematic events. It also reaffirms Jujutsu Kaisen’s place among the greats, alongside Naruto, Bleach, and Attack on Titan. But more importantly, it reminds us that even in a world of curses, hope can bloom.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on From Egg to Epic: The Inspiration and Significance of Bird Boy
Bird Boy (2025), directed and written by Joel Soisson, is more than a heartwarming tale of a boy and his ostrich—it’s a cinematic meditation on belonging, resilience, and the healing power of connection.
Set against the sweeping landscapes of South Africa, the film follows August, a troubled orphan who finds solace and purpose in raising a giant ostrich named Koobus. Their bond, tested by separation and adversity, becomes a metaphor for the universal longing for family, identity, and home.
The Inspiration Behind Bird Boy
The genesis of Bird Boy lies in Soisson’s fascination with stories that blend the fantastical with the deeply personal. According to interviews and production notes, Soisson was inspired by the emotional terrain of classic boy-and-animal tales like E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial, The Black Stallion, and Free Willy, but wanted to root his story in a setting and culture less frequently explored in mainstream cinema. South Africa, with its rich biodiversity and complex social history, offered the perfect backdrop.
The ostrich, a flightless bird native to Africa, became a symbolic centerpiece. Its awkward grace, immense size, and vulnerability made it an ideal companion for a boy like August—isolated, misunderstood, and yearning for connection. Soisson has noted that the idea of a child raising an ostrich came to him after reading about conservation efforts in the Karoo and witnessing the emotional intelligence of these birds during a visit to an ostrich farm. The image of a boy cradling an egg, nurturing it into a towering creature, became the emotional and visual anchor of the film.
But Bird Boy is not just about the bond between human and animal. It’s also a story about grief, displacement, and the search for belonging. August’s journey—from orphaned city boy to rural outcast to courageous rescuer—mirrors the emotional arc of many children navigating trauma and loss. His relationship with Koobus becomes a lifeline, a way to process pain and rediscover joy. In this sense, the film draws on universal themes while grounding them in a uniquely South African context.
Cultural and Emotional Significance
Bird Boy arrives at a time when global audiences are increasingly drawn to stories that reflect emotional authenticity and cultural specificity. The film’s setting in the South African countryside is not just scenic—it’s integral to the narrative. The rural landscape, with its wide skies and dusty roads, mirrors August’s internal emptiness and eventual growth. The use of local actors, languages, and customs adds depth and credibility, allowing the story to resonate both locally and internationally.
Thematically, the film explores the idea that family is not always defined by blood, but by love, loyalty, and shared struggle. August’s adoptive guardians, Thabo and Emmie, represent the complexities of kinship and care, while Koobus becomes a stand-in for the unconditional support that many children crave. The ostrich’s eventual capture and August’s daring rescue mission serve as metaphors for reclaiming agency and fighting for what matters.
Critics have praised the film for its emotional nuance and visual storytelling. The cinematography captures the grandeur of the South African landscape while maintaining an intimate focus on the characters’ emotional journeys. The score, blending traditional African instruments with orchestral swells, underscores the film’s themes of hope and transformation.
Moreover, Bird Boy contributes to a growing canon of African-centered family films that challenge stereotypes and offer new narratives. By centering a Black South African boy as the hero of his own story, the film offers representation that is both empowering and overdue. It also subtly critiques systems that fail vulnerable children, advocating for empathy, community, and resilience.
Joel Soisson: A Director’s Journey
Joel Soisson is a seasoned filmmaker known for his work across genres, from horror and sci-fi to family drama. With a career spanning over three decades, Soisson has worn many hats—writer, director, producer—and has a knack for finding emotional truth in fantastical premises. His credits include cult favorites like The Prophecy series, Children of the Corn: Genesis, and Pulse, showcasing his ability to blend suspense with human vulnerability.
Born in the United States, Soisson studied film at UCLA and began his career in the 1980s. He quickly gained a reputation for his storytelling instincts and production savvy, often working on genre films that pushed creative boundaries despite modest budgets. Over time, he gravitated toward more character-driven stories, culminating in projects like Bird Boy that reflect a deeper engagement with emotional and cultural themes.
What sets Soisson apart is his willingness to take creative risks. In Bird Boy, he steps away from the supernatural and into the soulful, crafting a film that is both grounded and magical. His decision to shoot on location in South Africa, collaborate with local talent, and center the story on a Black protagonist speaks to his commitment to authenticity and inclusivity.
Soisson has described Bird Boy as one of the most personal films of his career. In interviews, he’s spoken about the challenges of filming in remote locations, working with animals, and capturing the emotional truth of a child’s journey. But he’s also expressed deep gratitude for the experience, calling it a “labor of love” that reaffirmed his belief in the power of storytelling to heal and connect.
A Lasting Legacy
As Bird Boy continues to garner acclaim and reach new audiences, its legacy is already taking shape. The film is being used in educational settings to spark conversations about grief, resilience, and environmental stewardship. It’s also inspiring young viewers to see themselves as heroes in their own stories, regardless of background or circumstance.
In a cinematic landscape often dominated by spectacle and cynicism, Bird Boy offers something rare: a story that is gentle, genuine, and deeply human. It reminds us that even in the harshest environments, love can take root, and that sometimes, the most powerful journeys begin with a single egg.
Do you remember the first time you saw a Predator movie? The very first “Predator” movie came out when I was still in elementary school, and I was not allowed to see it because it was rated R. But I have a very distinct memory of being on my way to a karate tournament, and all the sixth-grade boys had seen it. We were in the back of my mom’s minivan, and they described the entire movie to me. So, I had imagined “Predator” well before I’d ever seen it. When I eventually did see the movie, the thing that really took me by surprise wasn’t just the crazy design of the creature—which was scary, but also super awesome—but the combination of genres. I enjoyed seeing Arnold Schwarzenegger in this military action movie, and then it became an entirely different thing. I think the mainstay, at least for my entries in the franchise, is that Predator movies are this wonderful concoction of multiple genres, of different kinds of set pieces and action. Sometimes you’re in a taut suspense scene, sometimes you’re in a moment that’s building toward a fright, and sometimes you’re in an awesome, traditional action scene with explosions and gunfire. You’re getting a whole variety; it’s not just one note.
Can you give us a brief overview of “Badlands” and what sets it apart from previous Predator films? Including “Prey” and “Predator: Killer of Killers,” the two films you’ve previously directed? “Predator: Badlands” is the first movie in the Predator Universe that focuses on the Predator species known as the Yautja. We’re following the monster for the first me. Dek, the central character, is the runt of the litter in a clan that culls any sign of weakness. The Yautja think one weak link breaks the chain, so facing exile or worse, Dek finds himself on the deadliest planet in the galaxy, where he must hunt down an unkillable creature known as the Kalisk to prove his worth to his clan. It was important for me to keep pushing the envelope and evolving the franchise in different ways. It just makes for an incredibly unique experience—like riding your favourite theme park ride and feeling that rush all over again. It’s why I think we all want to get off our couches and go see movies—to see things we haven’t seen before.
How did you approach expanding upon the lore of the Yautja? To make a movie about one of horror/sci-fi’s most treasured villains was a delicate dance because on the one hand, the thing that made the Predator so special, what makes all our legendary horror/sci-fi creatures special—is a mystery. In the first “Predator” movie, when we finally saw the jungle hunter for the first time and saw what it was wearing, it spoke to a culture and the fact that they’re not just a mindless or supernatural force of evil. There’s clearly an intelligence. They can travel faster than light to different planets and have a weaponry that’s almost like evil James Bond in terms of gadgetry. And that’s the fun they bring. So, I certainly wanted to give people an experience that now focuses on the species and their culture. I wanted people to be able to find a point of connection to the bad guys of the universe. It’s a harsh, brutal, clan-based culture. For the first me, we go to their home planet and see a bit more about how they exist, but there’s still a great deal of mystery there.
Could you tell us more about Dek? What makes him such a unique protagonist? Dek is a unique protagonist in that he is, on the one hand, the underdog with something to prove— which we can all relate to—but he’s also still a ferocious badass. We’re more used to watching characters like him in hitman movies, where we know that those folks are bad guys, but we’re still rooting for them to do a good thing just this once. So we can relate to Dek on the most universal emotional level, but we’re also pulling for him to learn something, to figure stuff out in a way that we don’t normally see in this genre.
What can you tell us about Thia? When I was first thinking about the movie, I knew it would be a mistake to put any humans in it, because as soon as we put a human in, we’re all going to be drawn to them more than the creature. And I wanted to make sure that the audience sided with Dek. Of course, the next thought was…maybe this is a beautiful movie about a monster and a robot. And so Dek, who is very much a creature of few words, meets Thia, a robot who has been severed in half and clearly broken, yet is unflappable and effervescent and does not stop talking.
What made Dimitrius Schuster-Koloamatangi the ideal actor to play Dek? Dimitrius was one of the most remarkable finds of my career. He had a lovely audi on, but we wanted to see what he was capable of physically, so we had a day where we brought in a bunch of stunt performers and set up an obstacle course. The way Dimitrius navigated that course was insane. The swashbuckling he brought to all the sliding, jumping, leaping, and weapon work was cooler than the stuntmen. Dimitrius had a special physicality. Then on set, Dimitrius showed up not just for the physical work, but for the emotional work. It was unbelievable to see where he went. I wasn’t prepared for how he brought so much to this creature who’s simultaneously vulnerable, but terrifying, ferocious and visceral.
What made Elle Fanning the perfect choice for Thia? Elle is remarkable in that she’s both highly analytical but also deeply emotional and thoughtful. She mines every scene for all its worth. She also brought a verbal dexterity to Thia, for sure. But what I didn’t think of un l I lucked into it with Elle, was the peculiar physical demands of this role. You’d think that you could just sit and talk, but no—there were so many different kinds of harnesses and tricks needed for pulling off the magic that is Thia. We obviously use visual effects to see the more robotic side of Thia, but there’s a way that Elle holds her body so she can feel inert and dead and come alive in ways that I thought we’d need so many more special and visual effects to pull off. She just knows how to use all her tools as an actor to make us believe in this robot. Thia also has one of the most special, unique, coolest fight scenes in the movie, and Elle was tremendous in pulling that off.
What are your hopes for the film, and what audiences take away from it? All I hope for the film, all I ever hope for with any film, is that the folks watching will form a connection to these characters and feel something for them. With “Predator: Badlands”, this hope is especially meaningful because the movie revolves around characters you would never ever expect to love.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Regretting You – A Story of Secrets, Grief, and Redemption
Regretting You is a bestselling novel by Colleen Hoover, first published in 2019, and now adapted into a 2025 romantic drama film directed by Josh Boone.
Colleen Hoover’s stories are known for powerful emotions, tumultuous relationships and unforgettable characters. Regretting You is no exception. “Audiences will have a fun and emotional experience,” Hoover says. “It is something you can watch with friends and family and feel good about, then go back and watch it a second time with a different group of friends. It’s just a real feel good movie.”
Producer Brunson Green guarantees that Hoover fans are going to love the movie. “We captured the essence of the story with all the juicy, fun, twisty plot points,” he explains. “And we wrap it all up in less than two hours. So it’s a two-hour roller coaster ride of emotions.”
The film was made for a universal audience, says director Josh Boone. “The situations are not something that most people will ever have to deal with, but the characters she creates are so relatable that everyone finds something familiar in them. This movie will certainly be great for mothers and daughters to see together, but not only them. If you’re a fan of the genre, you’ll like it. If you’ve got a mom or a daughter you love a lot, but have some problems communicating with, you’ll like it even more.”
“Women can bring their boyfriends and their husbands and they’re going to love it too,” adds Green. “We’ve already talked to a lot of men that watched it and said it wasn’t typically their kind of movie, but they absolutely loved it. That is the ultimate compliment to us.”
Producer Flavia Viotti’s wish is that viewers leave full of hope. “Hope for a second chance. Hope for love. The hope of overcoming grief, overcoming loss and knowing that there is always a way to rebuild your life. I don’t believe in regrets. Even if you have made mistakes in the past that doesn’t mean you have to regret them. They have brought you to where you are now.”
There are certainly heartbreaking moments in the movie, but ultimately the filmmakers want audiences to be uplifted by the tale. “No matter what, life keeps going and things keep happening. says Boone. “You are going to laugh again. I say that from experience.”
Based on the bestselling book, Regretting You introduces audiences to Morgan Grant (Allison Williams) and her daughter Clara (Mckenna Grace) as they explore what’s left behind after a devastating accident reveals a shocking betrayal and forces them to confront family secrets, redefine love, and rediscover each other. Regretting You is a story of growth, resilience, and self-discovery in the aftermath of tragedy.
For producers Flavia Viotti, p.g.a. and Anna Todd, an opportunity to bring one of Colleen Hoover’s popular novels to the screen was irresistible
The pair are longtime fans of Hoover’s work, as well as friends of the author, whose work ranges from contemporary romances to psychological thrillers. Hoover has sold more than 23 million books, making her one of the world’s most popular authors and one of Time magazine’s 100 most influential people in the world in 2023.
Viotti, CEO of Bookcase Literary Agency and Todd, author of the much-loved After book series and founder of Frayed Pages Media, teamed up to produce Hoover’s Regretting You for the big screen. “The film is a story about loss, but it’s about much more than just loss,” says Viotti. “It is also about finding forgiveness and overcoming grief. The mix of drama and romance and family convinced us that we had to make it into a film.”
Todd and Viotti reached out to Brunson Green, p.g.a., president of Harbinger Pictures, to help them develop the book for the screen. “I leaped on it immediately,” says Green, who received an Oscar® nomination for producing The Help. “I have always enjoyed making books into movies, but a Colleen Hoover novel is its own genre. She has such an avid fan base. I wasn’t yet part of what is sometimes called the ‘Hoover-verse,’ so Flavia and Anna invited me to the Book Bonanza, which is an annual charity event founded by Colleen. Three thousand book lovers come in to meet authors and get their books signed. I met Colleen for the first time in her natural habitat, signing 500 books in two hours.”
What all of Hoover’s books have in common, according to Green, is that they grab people by the heartstrings. “Readers fall in love with the characters. There’s always a hint of something that makes you feel, that could be me! Her deft use of humor keeps the melodrama from spinning out of control. And in the end, you’ve got your tissues out because you’re so happy for the characters in their final resolution.”
Mason Thames as “Miller”, McKenna Grace as “Clara”, and Director Josh Boone in Regretting You from Paramount Pictures. Photo Credit: Jessica Miglio
Screenwriter Susan McMartin, who had penned the script for Todd’s first film, agreed to adapt Hoover’s novel, and they were on their way.
The producers were elated when Josh Boone, director of fan favorite teen romance The Fault in Our Stars, agreed to helm the project. “TheFault in Our Stars had me crying my eyes out,” says Green. “When Anna, Flavia and I got on a Zoom with Josh, it was a lovefest. We knew he was the right director when he mentioned a few scenes from the book that he felt had to appear in the movie. They were all scenes that Anna, Flavia and I had already agreed were essential to the story.”
Viotti says that she cannot think of anyone better suited to direct this film. “We were looking for a director who could create an environment that actors would feel comfortable to bring those big emotions to,” says Viotti. “Josh knows how to bring out the best in actors.”
Adapting any novel into a screenplay and then a film brings its own unique set of challenges, according to Boone. “When it’s a book like this that a lot of people already love, it becomes an extremely collaborative process involving multiple producers who all have their own ideas. When the actors come in, they’re going to have their own opinions. I find it exciting to be part of a group trying to make something as good as it can possibly be.”
“Once I read the script, I jumped in. Regretting You is a coming-of-age story about relationships between parents and children growing up, like my previous films Stuck in Love and The Fault in Our Stars. I have always been and always will be attracted to movies about families, specifically kids who are finding out that their parents are fallible. That’s an important moment in anybody’s life.”
The inspiration for the story was the relationship between Hoover’s sister Lynn and her mother.
Hoover adds that watching the film for the first time, she fell in love with the characters all over again. “It all felt all new to me. Regretting You is about Morgan and Clara Grant, a mother and daughter struggling to get past an unthinkable loss. They’re constantly at odds about so many things going in their lives. The story about understanding and forgiveness, and about learning to put yourself in someone else’s shoes. With any book or movie, I want to feel all of the emotions. The thing I was the most worried about was, will I feel all the heartbreak? Will I also laugh out loud? And it checks all the boxes!”
Hoover says that she knew the filmmakers had gotten it right as soon as she viewed the opening moments of the movie. “That scene was so close to the book and worked so well on camera,” she raves. “I think that readers are going to be really pleased. The book is sad sometimes. Life can be sad sometimes, so it’s important to find moments of lightheartedness. By the end, you get your closure, even on the sad parts of it.”
A tender romance between 17-year-old Clara and classmate Miller Adams is nimbly interwoven with the growing attraction between her 35-year-old mother and lifelong friend Jonah. “The romance is very important to the characters and their journey, but it’s not in the driver’s seat,” says Hoover. “The story centers on the mother-daughter relationship and the journey that brings them into their romances. Of course Jonah and Miller are incredibly important to the story because they help Morgan and Clara start to move forward.”
Boone agrees, saying, “The tragedies, the betrayals and the secrets drive the plot, but events are less important than the impact they have on Morgan and Clara personally and emotionally. I have a special place in my heart for a couple in love for the first time, like Clara and Miller.
JOSH BOONE (Director) is the filmmaker behind The Fault in Our Stars, the acclaimed adaptation of John Green’s bestseller. He also wrote and directed Stuck in Love., starring Greg Kinnear and Jennifer Connelly, Marvel film The New Mutants and the 2020 limited series “The Stand,” based on the classic Stephen King novel.
In 2024 Boone teamed up with longtime collaborators Bright Eyes (band member Nate Walcott scores all of Boone’s work) for the music video to their single “Bells and Whistles.”
SUSAN McMARTIN (Writer) has penned such feature films as After, an adaptation of the internationally bestselling book series by Anna Todd that became a massive, worldwide film franchise spawning four sequels. McMartin also wrote Bruce Beresford’s critically acclaimed dramedy Mr. Church, starring Eddie Murphy, and adapted the novel Miracle on Voodoo Mountain as a feature. On the television side, McMartin is the showrunner, EP and co-creator of the new Netflix hit comedy series “Leanne,” co-created with Chuck Lorre. She was a co-executive producer on the acclaimed series “Mom” for eight seasons. Before “Mom” McMartin was a writer and producer on the long-running sitcom “Two and a Half Men.”
McMartin was born in New York and raised in Los Angeles. She is the daughter of esteemed Broadway actor John McMartin and a graduate of NYU Tisch School of the Arts. Early in her career she received a story credit on the Pauly Shore feature Son in Law and penned seven episodes of NBC’s daytime drama “Another World.” Her other TV writing credits include ABC’s “Port Charles,” Showtime’s “Californication” and CBS’ “Gary Unmarried.”
McMartin’s book Understanding the Fall, based on her experience growing up with an alcoholic mother, has been on the bestsellers list in Amazon’s addiction and recovery section. She has performed readings in jails, juvenile halls and recovery homes throughout Los Angeles.
Colleen Hoover is a bestselling American author born on December 11, 1979, in Sulphur Springs, Texas. She began her writing career in 2011 with the self-published novel Slammed, which quickly gained traction through word-of-mouth and social media. Hoover’s emotionally charged stories—often centered on love, trauma, and personal growth—have earned her a devoted fanbase and numerous accolades, including multiple Goodreads Choice Awards. Her breakout novel It Ends with Us (2016) tackled domestic abuse with raw honesty and was followed by a successful sequel, It Starts with Us (2022). Hoover’s books have sold over 20 million copies worldwide, and several are being adapted for film, including Regretting You (2025). She’s also the founder of The Bookworm Box, a charity bookstore that has donated over $1 million to various causes.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Writing for the Right Reasons
Some stories aren’t written for the marketplace. They’re written because they haunt you. Because they whisper in the quiet. Because they won’t leave you alone. They’re not chasing fame. They’re chasing freedom.
There comes a moment—often quiet, often inconvenient—when a story begins to stir inside you.
Not the kind that seeks applause or algorithms, but the kind that aches to be told. It doesn’t arrive with a marketing plan or a guaranteed audience. It arrives like a haunting. Like a whisper in the dark. Like something half-remembered and wholly yours.
This is the story you write not for fame or fortune, but because it won’t let you sleep. Because it lives in your marrow. Because it’s the only way to make sense of what you’ve lived.
In a world that rewards speed, spectacle, and virality, it’s easy to forget that the deepest stories are often slow, quiet, and inconvenient.
They don’t trend. They don’t fit neatly into genre. They don’t promise a book deal. But they do promise something else—something more enduring. They promise truth. They promise connection. They promise the possibility of transformation, not just for the reader, but for the writer. And that is reason enough. Writing for the right reasons means writing from the wound, not the scar. It means resisting the urge to polish too soon, to package too neatly, to resolve too quickly. It means sitting with discomfort, ambiguity, and silence. It means asking: What question won’t leave me alone? What image keeps returning? What moment in my life refuses to be forgotten? These are the portals. These are the invitations. These are the beginnings of stories that matter.
But not all stories come from ache.
Some come from awe. From a moment that shimmered. From a line of poetry that cracked something open. From a film that made you weep in the dark. From a stranger’s kindness. From a childhood memory that glows like stained glass. Inspiration is not always loud—it’s often a flicker. A scent. A phrase. A glance. And when it arrives, it asks to be honored. Not exploited. Not rushed. Just honored.
To write from inspiration is to write from reverence.
It is to say: This moved me. This mattered. This changed me. And I want to pass it on. You’re not trying to impress. You’re trying to share. You’re trying to translate the untranslatable. To give form to the formless. To make someone else feel what you felt, even if only for a moment.
To write from this place—whether wound or wonder—is to write as a steward, not a master. You don’t control the story—you accompany it. You listen. You follow. You let it lead you into places you didn’t expect to go. Sometimes it will ask you to revisit pain. Sometimes it will ask you to risk tenderness. Sometimes it will ask you to speak what has never been spoken. And in doing so, it will ask you to become more fully yourself.
There is a kind of writing that seeks to impress.
It is clever, polished, and often hollow. It performs rather than reveals. It seeks applause rather than resonance. And while there is nothing wrong with ambition, there is something tragic about writing that forgets its soul. The stories that endure—the ones that live in readers long after the final page—are not the ones that dazzled. They are the ones that dared. Dared to be vulnerable. Dared to be strange. Dared to be true.
Writing for the right reasons means honoring what’s been lost.
It means writing as an act of remembrance. A way to say: I was here. They were here. This mattered. It means writing as ritual, as offering, as elegy. It means refusing to let silence have the final word. And in doing so, it becomes a form of resistance. A way to reclaim voice, history, and meaning in a world that often erases.
It also means writing to connect across silence.
Your story might be the bridge someone else needs to cross their own isolation. It might be the mirror they didn’t know they were missing. It might be the permission they didn’t know they needed. When you write from the place of necessity or inspiration, you write not just for yourself, but for the invisible reader who is waiting. Not for entertainment, but for resonance. Not for escape, but for recognition.
This kind of writing is slow. It is devotional. It does not rush. It does not chase trends. It trusts the slow burn. It understands that some stories take years to find their shape. That some truths need time to ripen. That some wounds need time to speak. And that is not failure. That is fidelity. That is the kind of patience that makes art possible.
To stay true, you must learn to listen. Not just to the story, but to yourself.
You must learn to distinguish between the voice of ego and the voice of necessity. Between the desire to be seen and the desire to speak. Between the impulse to perform and the impulse to reveal.
This is not always easy.
The world will tempt you with shortcuts. With metrics. With applause. But the story that lives inside you does not care about any of that. It cares about truth.
It cares about meaning. It cares about being told.
So ask yourself: What story won’t let me go? What story feels like prayer, like protest, like home? What story feels dangerous to tell—but even more dangerous not to? That is the story you must write. That is the story that will change you. That is the story that might change someone else.
You don’t owe the world a bestseller. You don’t owe it a perfect arc or a marketable pitch. You owe it your truth. You owe it your voice. You owe it the story that only you can tell. And when you write from that place, you’re not just telling a story. You’re giving the world a piece of its soul back.
So write the story that lives inside you. The one that aches. The one that haunts. The one that heals. Write it slowly. Write it honestly. Write it like a ritual. Write it like a reckoning. Write it like a gift.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Worlds Within Words: The Power and Craft of Fictional Realities in Writing
Creating a fictional reality in writing allows authors to construct immersive worlds that deepen emotional resonance, challenge norms, and expand the boundaries of thought and experience. It’s both a craft and a calling—one that transforms storytelling into a portal for empathy, innovation, and meaning.
To create a fictional reality in writing is to become both architect and alchemist—designing worlds from scratch or bending the familiar into something strange and resonant.
The process begins with conceptual clarity
Defining the genre and tone of your story sets the foundational rules of your world. Whether you’re crafting a dystopian society, a magical realm, or a speculative near-future, the genre acts as a compass, guiding the logic, atmosphere, and emotional texture of the narrative. From there, writers often start with a big idea—a central motif or question that shapes the world’s contours. This could be a cultural inversion (a society where silence is sacred), a geographical anomaly (floating cities tethered by memory), or a historical pivot (a world where the Renaissance never ended). These ideas become the gravitational center around which characters, conflicts, and settings orbit.
Once the conceptual seed is planted, the writer must engage in world-building
A layered process that includes geography, climate, flora and fauna, social structures, traditions, and political systems. The physical environment—mountains, rivers, seasons—affects how characters live, move, and relate. Societies and cultures must feel lived-in, with rituals, taboos, and histories that echo through dialogue and action. Even fantastical elements like magic or advanced technology require internal consistency; they must obey rules that make sense within the world’s logic. This is where research becomes essential. Even the most imaginative worlds benefit from grounding in reality—whether through historical parallels, scientific plausibility, or cultural nuance. Writers might consult experts, travel to locations, or study other authors’ techniques to ensure their fictional reality feels authentic and immersive.
Crafting a fictional reality isn’t just about detail—it’s about emotional architecture
The world must serve the story, not overshadow it. Every element should deepen character development, heighten conflict, or enrich theme. A fictional reality becomes compelling when it resonates emotionally, when readers feel the weight of its history, the pulse of its politics, the ache of its landscapes. This is achieved through showing rather than telling: letting readers experience the world through sensory detail, character choices, and narrative rhythm. Consistency is key—if a world has rules, they must be upheld or broken with consequence. The writer becomes a steward of coherence, ensuring that the reality they’ve built remains believable even in its strangeness.
The benefits of creating a fictional reality are profound
First, it offers creative freedom: writers are no longer bound by the constraints of the real world. They can explore ideas, emotions, and scenarios that would be impossible or taboo in nonfiction. This freedom allows for philosophical exploration—fictional realities can question societal norms, imagine alternative futures, or reframe historical events. They become laboratories for thought experiments, where readers can engage with complex issues in a safe, imaginative space.
Second, fictional realities foster empathy and understanding. By inhabiting different worlds, readers experience perspectives beyond their own. They walk in the shoes of characters shaped by alien customs, oppressive regimes, or magical destinies. This broadens emotional intelligence and cultural awareness. Fictional realities also provide emotional catharsis: readers process their own struggles through the lens of story. A character’s journey through grief, rebellion, or transformation becomes a mirror for the reader’s inner life.
Third, fictional realities fuel innovation. Many scientific and technological breakthroughs were inspired by fiction—space travel, AI, virtual reality. Imagined worlds stretch the boundaries of possibility, encouraging readers and creators to dream beyond the present. Fictional realities also preserve and reinvent cultural heritage. Through myth, legend, and speculative narrative, writers carry forward ancestral stories while reshaping them for new generations.
Finally, fictional realities create meaning and connection. They offer readers a sense of belonging, a place to explore identity, purpose, and hope. Whether it’s an epic quest, a quiet domestic drama, or a surreal dreamscape, these worlds resonate personally. They become part of the reader’s emotional landscape, shaping how they see themselves and the world.
The importance of creating fictional realities in writing cannot be overstated.
In a world saturated with information and distraction, fiction offers depth and reflection. It slows us down, invites us to feel, imagine, and question. Fictional realities expand the boundaries of thought and emotion in ways real life often can’t. They allow writers to distill truth through metaphor, to transform absence into story, and to turn pain into resonance. They are acts of radical empathy and creative stewardship—tools for healing, awakening, and transformation.
Creating a fictional reality is not just a technical skill—it’s a philosophical stance.
It’s a way of saying: the world can be different. Stories can bend time, reshape memory, and reimagine justice. Fictional realities remind us that imagination is not escapism—it’s engagement. It’s how we dream better futures, understand deeper truths, and connect across difference.
For writers, it’s a sacred craft.
For readers, it’s a gift.
And for the world, it’s a necessary mirror—reflecting not just what is, but what could be.
How Fiction Breathes Life into History . History is full of untold stories, overlooked perspectives, and moments that can be reimagined in fresh ways. Blending fiction with history is an art that allows you to breathe life into the past while keeping your narrative compelling and immersive. Read more
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Ella McCay – A Portrait of Power, Family, and Emotional Survival
In an era where political dramas often lean into cynicism or spectacle, Ella McCay arrives as a refreshingly intimate and emotionally intelligent portrait of leadership, legacy, and personal reckoning.
Written and directed by James L. Brooks, the film marks his return to the director’s chair after a 15-year hiatus since How Do You Know (2010). Known for his masterful blend of comedy and drama in classics like Broadcast News, Terms of Endearment, and As Good as It Gets, Brooks brings his signature warmth and character-driven storytelling to a new generation of political narrative. With Ella McCay, he crafts a film that is less about policy and more about the people behind it—their wounds, their relationships, and the quiet rituals that shape public service.
Set in an unnamed U.S. state, the film follows Ella McCay, a 34-year-old lieutenant governor played by Emma Mackey, who is poised to take over the governorship after her mentor, Governor Bill (Albert Brooks), accepts a cabinet position in the Obama administration. As Ella prepares to step into a role of greater power, she must navigate a web of familial tensions, personal insecurities, and political expectations. Her father, Eddie McCay (Woody Harrelson), is a charismatic but emotionally distant figure whose legacy looms large. Her mother (Rebecca Hall), aunt Helen (Jamie Lee Curtis), and younger brother Casey (Spike Fearn) each bring their own emotional baggage to the table, complicating Ella’s ascent.
The film’s tagline—“A story about the people you love, and how to survive them”—captures its dual focus on public service and private reckoning. Rather than dramatising political scandal or ideological warfare, Ella McCay explores the emotional labor of leadership: the compromises, the inherited wounds, and the quiet moments of clarity that shape a person’s path. Brooks’ screenplay is rich in dialogue that feels lived-in and layered, allowing characters to reveal themselves gradually through conversation, conflict, and silence. The political backdrop serves not as a battleground but as a mirror, reflecting the personal stakes of power and the cost of visibility.
Emma Mackey’s performance as Ella is expected to be a breakout moment, anchoring the film with intelligence, vulnerability, and quiet strength. Known for her roles in Sex Education and Emily, Mackey brings a nuanced presence to a character who is both idealistic and emotionally burdened. Her portrayal captures the tension between ambition and authenticity, showing how leadership can be both a calling and a crucible. Woody Harrelson, as her father, delivers a layered performance that oscillates between charm and regret, while Jamie Lee Curtis adds gravitas and complexity as Helen, the aunt whose own political past casts shadows over Ella’s future.
Visually, the film is shaped by the cinematography of Robert Elswit, whose work on There Will Be Blood and Michael Clayton lends a restrained elegance to the narrative. The editing by Tracey Wadmore-Smith ensures a rhythm that allows emotional beats to breathe, while the production design evokes both the grandeur and intimacy of political life. Filmed primarily in Rhode Island, with additional scenes in Cleveland and New Orleans, the settings reinforce the film’s themes of place, legacy, and transformation.
What makes Ella McCay significant is its refusal to separate the personal from the political. In a cultural moment where leadership is often reduced to soundbites and scandals, Brooks offers a counter-narrative rooted in emotional intelligence, relational complexity, and moral clarity. The film suggests that governance is not just about policy but about presence—being attuned to the needs of others, navigating inherited trauma, and making decisions that reflect both principle and compassion. It’s a story that resonates with anyone who has ever felt the weight of expectation, the pull of legacy, or the challenge of becoming themselves in the public eye.
Ella McCay offers a rich case study in narrative compression and emotional layering. It demonstrates how character arcs can be sculpted through relational tension, how dialogue can serve as both exposition and excavation, and how political narratives can be reframed as intimate dramas of survival and renewal. The film’s structure invites reflection on how we inherit roles, how we resist them, and how we ultimately reshape them through choice and connection.
The film brings together a rare convergence of veteran talent and rising stars, creating a cinematic experience that feels both timeless and timely. In a year filled with high-stakes political thrillers and glossy biopics, Ella McCay stands out as a quiet revolution—a film that dares to ask not just what power is, but who we become when we hold it.
James L. Brooks is an acclaimed American director, producer, and screenwriter whose career spans television and film, marked by a deep commitment to character-driven storytelling and emotional nuance. Born on May 9, 1940, in Brooklyn, New York, Brooks began his career in television in the 1960s, writing for CBS News and later for sitcoms and documentaries. He rose to prominence as the co-creator of groundbreaking shows like Room 222, The Mary Tyler Moore Show, Rhoda, Lou Grant, and Taxi, which redefined the sitcom genre by blending humor with social and emotional realism. In 1986, he founded Gracie Films, a production company that would later help launch The Simpsons, one of the most influential television series of all time. Brooks transitioned to film with Terms of Endearment (1983), which earned him three Academy Awards for Best Picture, Best Director, and Best Screenplay. He followed with Broadcast News (1987) and As Good as It Gets (1997), both of which received critical acclaim and multiple Oscar nominations. His other films include Spanglish (2004), I’ll Do Anything (1994), and How Do You Know (2010). Known for his sharp dialogue, emotional depth, and ensemble casts, Brooks has won 22 Emmy Awards, making him one of the most decorated figures in television history. His work consistently explores themes of vulnerability, interpersonal dynamics, and the quiet complexities of everyday life. With Ella McCay (2025), Brooks returns to the screen with a story that reflects his enduring interest in the emotional lives of public figures, offering a nuanced portrait of leadership, legacy, and survival.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on From Spectacle to Soul: Why Empathy Matters
Empathy in writing is not about excusing horror—it’s about understanding its roots. In Monster: The Ed Gein Story, empathy becomes a lens through which we confront the uncomfortable truth that monsters are often made, not born.
In the age of true crime saturation and desensitized audiences, the act of writing with empathy—especially about figures like Ed Gein—becomes both a moral challenge and a narrative necessity.
Monster: The Ed Gein Story, the third instalment in Ryan Murphy’s Netflix anthology, dares to tread this fraught terrain. It doesn’t simply recount Gein’s grotesque crimes; it interrogates the conditions that shaped him, the cultural machinery that mythologised him, and the viewers who consume his story with morbid fascination. In doing so, the series offers a provocative case study in how empathy, when wielded responsibly, can deepen our understanding of horror rather than dilute its impact.
The empathetic lens in Monster: The Ed Gein Story
It was shaped by co-creators Ryan Murphy and Ian Brennan, with director and co-showrunner Max Winkler playing a pivotal role in deepening the character study of Ed Gein.
Murphy and Brennan, known for their provocative reimaginings of true crime, set the tone for the series’ controversial blend of horror and humanization. However, it was Max Winkler who most explicitly articulated the show’s empathetic intent. In interviews, Winkler emphasized that he wasn’t interested in glorifying Gein’s crimes but in exploring the emotional and cultural conditions that shaped him. He described the series as a “character study” rather than a horror spectacle.
Winkler’s approach was to peel back the layers of Gein’s psyche, portraying him not as a monster but as a man fractured by trauma, mental illness, and cultural desensitization. This vision was supported by the writing team, who crafted scenes that emphasized Gein’s isolation, hallucinations, and longing for connection—particularly through imagined conversations with figures like Ilse Koch and Christine Jorgensen.
The result is a series that walks a controversial line: it doesn’t excuse Gein’s actions, but it contextualizes them, inviting viewers to confront the uncomfortable truth that monsters are often shaped by the worlds they inhabit.
Empathy in writing is often misunderstood as a softening of truth
In its most rigorous form, it is a commitment to complexity. It asks the writer to look beyond the act and into the character—to trace the emotional, psychological, and societal contours that led to a moment of rupture.
In Monster, this commitment is evident from the opening scenes. Ed Gein, played with haunting restraint by Charlie Hunnam, is not introduced as a bloodthirsty villain but as a quiet, mentally fragile man shaped by isolation, abuse, and untreated schizophrenia. His voice is soft, his manner timid, his hallucinations vivid. The series doesn’t absolve him—it contextualizes him. It asks not “How could he?” but “What happened to him?” This shift in framing is the essence of empathetic writing.
Director and co-showrunner Max Winkler emphasized this approach, noting that Gein’s story had long been told through the lens of sensationalism, often ignoring the man behind the myth. Winkler’s team made deliberate choices to humanize Gein—not to romanticize him, but to restore the emotional texture that decades of horror adaptations had stripped away.
For instance, the character of Adeline Watkins, played by Suzanna Son, becomes a narrative anchor. Though her real-life connection to Gein was tenuous, the writers expanded her role to give Gein a sounding board, a mirror, a moment of relational clarity. In one scene, Gein proposes marriage to Adeline, only to be gently rebuffed. The moment is tender, awkward, and deeply unsettling—not because it evokes sympathy, but because it reveals the emotional dissonance of a man who craved connection but was incapable of healthy attachment.
This kind of writing demands a delicate balance. Too much empathy, and the narrative risks tipping into apology. Too little, and it becomes voyeuristic.
Monster walks this tightrope by embedding its empathy within a broader critique of cultural desensitization. The series doesn’t just explore Gein’s psyche—it interrogates the audience’s.
In one chilling exchange, a nurse tells Gein he should set the record straight. He replies, “I think enough people have told my story, don’t you think? They seem to know it better than me.” The line is meta-textual, implicating the viewer in the act of consumption. It’s a reminder that every retelling is a choice—and that empathy is not just for the subject, but for the audience who must reckon with their own gaze.
Empathetic writing also challenges genre conventions
Horror, by design, thrives on fear and revulsion. But when empathy enters the frame, it complicates the emotional palette. Monster does this by juxtaposing Gein’s crimes with scenes of historical trauma—images of Nazi concentration camps, the Vietnam War, and the Nixon administration’s brutality. These moments suggest that Gein’s descent was not merely personal but cultural. He was absorbing a world already steeped in violence, already numbed to suffering. In this context, empathy becomes a tool of critique. It doesn’t excuse—it exposes.
One of the most controversial choices in the series is the depiction of Gein’s schizophrenia. Psychologist Dannielle Haig cautioned that dramatisations often exaggerate the link between mental illness and violence, reinforcing harmful stereotypes. Monster attempts to navigate this by portraying Gein’s hallucinations not as monstrous but as manifestations of trauma.
He imagines conversations with Ilse Koch, the Nazi “Bitch of Buchenwald,” and Christine Jorgensen, the first American to undergo gender reassignment surgery. These figures are not random—they reflect Gein’s fractured understanding of femininity, power, and identity.
The writing here is empathetic not because it justifies, but because it seeks to understand the symbolic architecture of Gein’s mind.
Empathy also reshapes the viewer’s relationship to violence
In Monster, the gore is not gratuitous—it’s reflective. Scenes of Hitchcock’s Psycho and Hooper’s Texas Chain Saw Massacre are interwoven with commentary on how horror films have evolved from psychological tension to graphic spectacle. The series suggests that our appetite for violence has grown not despite empathy, but because of its absence. We crave shock, not story.
Empathetic writing resists this trend by reintroducing emotional consequence
A poignant example of empathy in action comes in the final episode, when Gein, now old and dying, sits quietly in a psychiatric institution. A nurse treats him with kindness. He is no longer the centre of spectacle, but a man fading into obscurity. The scene doesn’t ask us to forgive—it asks us to feel. To feel the weight of a life shaped by abuse, untreated illness, and cultural neglect. To feel the discomfort of seeing a monster as a man.
This is the power of empathetic writing: it doesn’t let us look away
In a world increasingly desensitised to violence, empathy in writing is not a luxury—it’s a responsibility. Monster: The Ed Gein Story shows us that empathy doesn’t weaken narrative—it strengthens it. It allows us to confront horror not as entertainment, but as a mirror. It reminds us that every monster has a story, and that understanding that story is the first step toward preventing the next one.
Here are five distilled, field-tested tips for creating empathy in writing—especially useful when navigating morally complex characters or emotionally charged narratives:
Start with the Wound, Not the Crime Empathy begins where judgment pauses. Instead of leading with what a character did, explore what was done to them. What shaped their worldview? What loss, neglect, or longing haunts them? By foregrounding formative wounds—emotional, societal, or familial—you invite readers to feel with rather than simply about the character.
Use Specific, Sensory Detail to Ground Humanity Empathy lives in the granular. A trembling hand, a half-eaten meal, a misbuttoned shirt—these small, humanizing details create emotional proximity. They remind readers that even the most alienated figures share our physical vulnerabilities.
Let the Character Speak—Even If They’re Unreliable Empathy doesn’t require agreement. It requires access. Give your character a voice, even if it’s fractured, delusional, or morally compromised. Let them explain themselves—not to justify, but to reveal the emotional logic behind their actions.
Mirror the Reader’s Gaze Empathetic writing often implicates the audience. Ask: Why are we drawn to this story? What does our fascination say about us? By acknowledging the reader’s role—whether as voyeur, judge, or witness—you create a shared emotional contract.
End with Consequence, Not Catharsis Empathy doesn’t mean closure. It means consequence. Instead of wrapping the story in redemption or punishment, leave space for discomfort. Let the emotional residue linger. This honours the complexity of real trauma and prevents the narrative from becoming exploitative.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Good Fortune – A smart, feel-good comedy about an inept angel-in-training
Good Fortune is a 2025 high-concept comedy written, directed by, and starring Aziz Ansari in his feature directorial debut.
Good Fortune is Ansari’s feature directorial debut, but he has directed extensively for television, a skill he learned ding his series, “Master of None.” “I first started directing and writing on my series, and I really enjoyed it,” he notes. “When you write something, you have this version of it in your head, and you have ideas about how it should look and feel. And directing and producing allows you to see that through.” Doing so also means directing himself – and others – in scenes where he is also acting, something he had also done on “Master of None.” “This time, I was doing my lines and thinking about the other person’s performance at the same time. You just keep thinking ahead.”
While Good Fortune is definitely a crowd-pleasing comedy that makes you laugh and feel something, it also makes you think. It’s also a film about accepting your life as it is and being authentic, as each of the characters learns.
“The idea of the film,” says Rogen, “is that your life is your life, and how will you deal with that?”
Notes Reeves, “Gabriel had the impression that he could make a difference. He thought he could find a lost soul, use his power to show a person the future, and then they would suddenly have a sensitivity to his or her life. Instead, he learned, through being a human, that each of us is not alone, that the journey is about our friends and loved ones, and our connections to other people that bring value and authenticity to all of our lives.”
This movie is meant to be experienced with a crowd. It’s the kind of theatrical experience that brings an audience together to laugh and reminds us why we go to the movies in the first place.
The film centers on Gabriel (played by Keanu Reeves), a well-meaning but inept angel who intervenes in the lives of Arj (Ansari), a struggling gig worker, and Jeff (Seth Rogen), a wealthy venture capitalist. In an attempt to prove that money doesn’t solve everything, Gabriel swaps their lives—only to have the plan backfire spectacularly, costing him his wings and forcing him to live among humans.
Sometimes, life isn’t fair. Sometimes, life is funny. Lots of times, it’s both
Multi-hyphenate writer-director-actor-producer Aziz Ansari is mainly known to comedy fans for the latter, from his performances for seven years as Tom Haverford on NBC’s “ Parks and Recreation,” to his hit series, “Master of None,” in which he starred, co-created, and co-wrote with “Parks and Rec” producer Alan Yang, and from sold-out stand-up comedy shows at Madison Square Garden.
But that doesn’t mean he has no consciousness of the struggles facing everyday Americans.
“At first, I was writing something a little more serious, but I’d been doing more dramatic work and missed working on comedies. So I challenged myself to take this topic and make it as funny as I could. And what’s interesting is that you watch these older films from the 30s and 40s, films like Sullivan’s Travels or My Man Godfrey – they dealt with all these issues, but they were also hilarious. They frequently deal with class and income disparity comically.”
“I started writing, and it just kept evolving. The basic notion was the angel wants to be like the guy in It’s a Wonderful Life and really change people’s lives, but the just screws it up, and the guy turns it on him. Then I started thinking about, who is the angel? What if he’s an angel in charge of saving people from texting and driving?”
While he considered various versions of the story, some more grounded with less fantastical, supernatural plot twists, he kept returning to the life swap approach as the most effective way to convey his message.
He began writing the script in 2020 during the Covid pandemic, starting with an idea he’d been toying with for years, involving an unlikely friendship between two guys from different ends of the economic spectrum.
To help him understand the latter person’s experience, he began doing research – not only interviewing people delivering food for DoorDash and doing gig jobs for TaskRabbit, but getting out in the field and trying to do the work himself. Though he was unable to do the latter [“I realized I’d be in people’s houses, say, to hang up a TV, and they’d be going, ‘You’re Aziz – are you not doing any more ‘Master of None’ – you’re now hanging TVs??’” he notes], he could go essentially unseen delivering food. “I did a ride-along with a guy, and then did four deliveries myself. You’re just constantly driving around L.A., trying to find parking, and that’s all you’re doing. I actually had to double-park – like we have in the film – to run in and get the food, and it’s not ready, everybody’s honking. All of this for some measly $1 tip. I just realized, ‘This is horrible.’”
He even ran across food delivery robots, ubiquitous in places like West Hollywood. “They’re so funny, because they have names on them, like ‘Hampton.’ I remember seeing that, and thinking, ‘That’s got to take Jeff’s job!’” an idea he ran by actor Seth Rogen, who would play the wealthy Jeff, who loved it. And, in case you don’t recognize him, that’s Ansari himself, doing the robot’s voice!
Once he had the idea for the two characters, Arj and Jeff, the challenge became how to have them cross paths – “What brings these guys together, and how does the story take off?” the director pondered. He ran the idea by his two favourite creative partners, producer Alan Yang and his brother, executive producer Aniz Adam Ansari. “We wanted these characters to learn more about each other’s lives,” says Yang. “But that was just the jumping off point. From there, we wanted to do a deeper dive into the system that causes the haves and the have-nots to exist.”
Aziz Ansari’s inspiration for Good Fortune stemmed from a blend of personal setbacks, creative ambition, and a desire to reflect the quirks of modern life.
After his previous film Being Mortal was shelved, Ansari sought a theatrical comeback—one that would revive the bold spirit of R-rated comedies and prove they could still pack a punch at the box office.
He conducted interviews with gig workers to capture the lived experience of economic uncertainty, which shaped his lead character, Arj, as a reflection of everyday hustle and burnout.
The concept of life-swapping wasn’t just a comedic device; it was Ansari’s way of confronting the illusion that money can solve emotional and existential woes.
Collaborating with longtime friend Seth Rogen added layers of irreverent humor, while his surprising bond with Keanu Reeves deepened the film’s emotional heart—Reeves plays Gabriel, an angel who loses his wings after meddling in human affairs.
By blending classic body-swap tropes with social satire, Ansari created a film that’s both hilarious and thought-provoking, touching on privilege, identity, and what it truly means to be lucky.
Aziz Ansari is an American actor, comedian, writer, and filmmaker born on February 23, 1983, in Columbia, South Carolina, to Tamil Muslim immigrants from Tamil Nadu, India. Raised in Bennettsville, South Carolina, he attended the South Carolina Governor’s School for Science and Mathematics before earning a marketing degree from NYU’s Stern School of Business. Ansari began performing stand-up comedy while still in college, eventually gaining national attention through the MTV sketch show Human Giant. His breakout role came as Tom Haverford on NBC’s Parks and Recreation, where his quirky charm and comedic timing won over audiences. He later created and starred in the critically acclaimed Netflix series Master of None, which earned him multiple awards, including two Emmys and a Golden Globe—making him the first Asian American actor to win a Golden Globe for television acting. Ansari is also the author of Modern Romance, a sociological exploration of dating in the digital age. Known for blending observational humor with social commentary, he continues to push boundaries in comedy and storytelling. In 2022, he married Serena Skov Campbell, a Danish physicist, and remains a prominent voice in entertainment and cultural discourse.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Creation, Regret, Redemption: Del Toro’s Frankenstein Reimagined
Guillermo del Toro’s Frankenstein isinspired by Mary Shelley’s seminal 1818 novel of the same name. “I’ve lived with Mary Shelley’s creation all my life,” says del Toro. “For me, it’s the Bible. But I wanted to make it my own, to sing it back in a different key with a different emotion.”
Published anonymously on January 1, 1818, the first edition of Mary Shelley’s novel Frankenstein chronicled the saga of Victor Frankenstein, a man driven by hubris to play God only to suffer unimaginable consequences. The gifted scientist bestows life on a nameless Creature made from scavenged body parts, then turns away from his creation in horror, leaving the being to wander alone in the world. Rejected by all, the lonely, wounded Creature turns violent, determined that his maker should never again know comfort or peace.
Now, more than two centuries after Frankenstein was published, Academy Award®-winning filmmaker Guillermo del Toro brings to the screen a definitive new version of the timeless classic. A true passion project that was a lifetime in the making, del Toro’s epic revisits the story to explore what it means to be human, and what it means to be profoundly misunderstood as both a creator and a creature — a father and a son.
“Mary Shelley’s masterpiece is rife with questions that burn brightly in my soul: existential, tender, savage, doomed questions that only burn in a young mind and only adults and institutions believe they can answer,” del Toro explains. “For me, only monsters hold the secrets I long for.”
The sprawling epic follows Victor, a brilliant, ego-driven scientist (Oscar Isaac), as he embarks on a quest to bring new life into this world. The Creature (Jacob Elordi) is the result; his very existence provokes questions about what it means to be a human, a creator, a creature — a father and a son — to crave love and seek understanding. Both Victor and the Creature aim to answer those mysteries and search for meaning in a world that can seem quite mad.
“The book has a lot of anxiety — the anxiety that you get when you’re an adolescent, and you don’t understand why everybody lies about the world,” del Toro says. He aimed to capture that anxiety by translating “the rhythms of Mary Shelley” for the screen. “When English is your second language, you are trained very acutely to the melody and the rhythms of a language,” he continues. “It has a particular rhythm, the dialogue in the book. I tried to make the dialogue be like that without sounding archaic.”
In fact, del Toro was passionate about maintaining the modernism of Frankenstein in all aspects of the movie, which is set in 19th-century Europe. “When [Shelley] wrote Frankenstein, it was not a period piece. It was a modern book, so I didn’t want you to see a pastel-colored period piece,” he explains. Instead, the director favored swaggering fashions for Victor and styles that are “luscious and full of color.”
Del Toro hopes his Frankenstein stays with viewers as long as the Creature has resided in his own heart. “May monsters inhabit your dreams and give you as much solace as they have given me, for we are all creatures lost and found,” he says.
Del Toro has been working on a Frankenstein film for more than a decade. “My favourite novel in the world is Frankenstein. I’m going to misquote it horribly, but the monster says, ‘I have such love in me, more than you can imagine. But, if I cannot provoke it, I will provoke fear.’ ” It’s an idea that inspired del Toro’s career-spanning love for the monsters inside and outside all of us. Now he’s finally returning to the source.
Guillermo del Toro’s Frankenstein is inspired by personal trauma, spiritual inquiry, and a lifelong reverence for Mary Shelley’s novel.
Its significance lies in its intimate reimagining of creation, regret, and forgiveness through a father-son lens.
Guillermo del Toro’s adaptation of Frankenstein is not merely a retelling of Mary Shelley’s 1818 gothic classic—it’s a deeply personal and spiritual excavation. Del Toro has long called Frankenstein his “favorite novel in the world,” a story that has haunted and inspired him since childhood. For decades, he envisioned adapting it, but only recently felt emotionally ready. The catalyst? A profound conversation with his father, Federico del Toro, who was kidnapped in 1998. That traumatic event—and the silence that followed—shaped del Toro’s understanding of pain, regret, and ultimately, forgiveness.
This emotional reckoning became the third pillar of his film’s thematic structure. Del Toro describes Frankenstein as a story about “pain, regret, and forgiveness,” with the latter only emerging after reconciling with his father’s experience. “A grudge takes two prisoners,” he said. “Forgiveness liberates two people”. This insight transformed the film into a meditation not just on monstrous creation, but on the human need to forgive and be forgiven.
Del Toro’s Frankenstein also reclaims the dual narrative of creator and creature. He originally considered making two films—one from Victor Frankenstein’s perspective, the other from the creature’s—but ultimately merged them into a single, operatic tale. This duality allows the film to explore the emotional and moral consequences of creation from both sides. Oscar Isaac plays Victor Frankenstein, while Jacob Elordi embodies the creature, each reflecting the other’s longing, rage, and isolation.
Stylistically, del Toro’s version is both epic and intimate. He envisioned it as a “Catholic retelling” of Shelley’s novel, steeped in spiritual symbolism and familial tension. The father-son dynamic—between Victor and his creation, and mirrored in del Toro’s own life—becomes the emotional core. The film doesn’t just ask what it means to create life; it asks what it means to be responsible for it, to abandon it, and to seek redemption.
The significance of this adaptation lies in its refusal to treat Frankenstein as mere horror. Instead, del Toro elevates it to a mythic parable about broken relationships, inherited pain, and the possibility of healing. In a cinematic landscape saturated with spectacle, his Frankenstein offers something rare: a monster story that is also a spiritual reckoning. It speaks to anyone who has felt abandoned, misunderstood, or trapped in grief—and to those who seek release through compassion.
By weaving personal history into Shelley’s timeless narrative, del Toro transforms Frankenstein into a vessel for emotional truth. It’s not just a film—it’s a ritual of reconciliation, a gothic hymn to the wounded and the forgiven.
Mary Shelley was a pioneering English novelist who wrote Frankenstein at just 18 years old
Inspired by personal loss, intellectual upbringing, and a legendary storytelling challenge during a stormy summer in Switzerland.
Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley was born on 30 August 1797 in London to two radical thinkers: William Godwin, a political philosopher, and Mary Wollstonecraft, a trailblazing advocate for women’s rights. Tragically, her mother died shortly after childbirth, leaving Mary to be raised by her father in a household frequented by poets, philosophers, and reformers. Though she received little formal education, Mary absorbed the intellectual atmosphere around her, reading widely and writing from a young age.
Her life took a dramatic turn in 1814 when she began a relationship with Percy Bysshe Shelley, one of her father’s admirers and a married Romantic poet. They eloped to Europe with Mary’s stepsister Claire Clairmont, enduring scandal, poverty, and the loss of their first child. In 1816, the trio joined Lord Byron and physician John Polidori at Lake Geneva. That summer, marked by relentless storms and philosophical debate, became the crucible for Frankenstein.
One evening, Byron proposed a ghost story contest. Mary, then 18, struggled to find inspiration until a conversation about galvanism and the reanimation of corpses sparked a vivid waking dream. She later described it: “I saw the pale student of unhallowed arts kneeling beside the thing he had put together.” This vision became the seed of Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus, published anonymously in 1818.
The novel fused Gothic horror with Enlightenment anxieties, exploring themes of creation, isolation, and moral responsibility. It was groundbreaking—not only as a work of fiction but as one of the earliest examples of science fiction. Mary’s own experiences of grief, exile, and intellectual struggle deeply informed the emotional landscape of the book.
After Percy Shelley’s death in 1822, Mary returned to England and supported herself through writing and editing. She championed her late husband’s work while continuing her own literary career. Despite personal tragedies—including the deaths of three of her four children—she remained a resilient and prolific figure until her death in 1851 at age 53.
Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein endures as a foundational text in literature and culture, not just for its chilling narrative but for its philosophical depth. It asks timeless questions: What does it mean to create life? What are the consequences of unchecked ambition? And how do we reckon with the monsters we make?
Guillermo del Toro is a visionary Mexican filmmaker, author, and artist known for blending fairy tale aesthetics with gothic horror and emotional depth.
Born in Guadalajara in 1964, he has become one of the most influential voices in modern cinema. Del Toro’s creative journey began in childhood, nurtured by a Catholic grandmother and a fascination with monsters. He saw them not as threats but as metaphors for power, pain, and misunderstood beauty. This perspective shaped his signature style: dark fantasy infused with poetic visuals, Catholic symbolism, and themes of imperfection and redemption.
He studied filmmaking at the University of Guadalajara and learned special effects makeup from Dick Smith, the legendary artist behind The Exorcist. In the 1980s, del Toro worked as a makeup artist and co-founded Necropia, a special-effects company. His debut feature, Cronos (1993), won nine Ariel Awards and the Critics’ Week prize at Cannes, launching his international career.
Del Toro’s filmography spans Spanish-language masterpieces like The Devil’s Backbone (2001) and Pan’s Labyrinth (2006), as well as Hollywood hits including Blade II (2002), Hellboy (2004), Pacific Rim (2013), and Crimson Peak (2015). His 2017 film The Shape of Water won four Academy Awards, including Best Picture and Best Director.
Beyond directing, del Toro is a prolific producer and writer. He co-authored The Strain trilogy, created the animated Tales of Arcadia franchise, and curated the Netflix horror anthology Cabinet of Curiosities. His work often explores underworld motifs, amber lighting, insectile imagery, and the emotional lives of outsiders.
Del Toro is part of “The Three Amigos of Mexican Cinema” alongside Alfonso Cuarón and Alejandro G. Iñárritu. He’s received numerous accolades, including BAFTAs, Golden Globes, and a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. In 2018, Time named him one of the 100 most influential people in the world.
His latest projects, including Frankenstein, reflect a deepening of his spiritual and emotional themes—exploring pain, regret, and forgiveness through mythic storytelling. Del Toro continues to champion stop-motion animation, genre storytelling, and the emotional power of monsters.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Marching Toward Identity: The Heart Behind Netflix’s Boots
Boots is a bold and emotionally resonant military dramedy inspired by Greg Cope White’s memoir The Pink Marine, dramatising White’s experience as a closeted gay recruit in the U.S. Marine Corps, offering a layered exploration of identity, resilience, and camaraderie.
Boots was created by Andy Parker and White, who served as executive producer and contributed to the writing, blending humour, grit, and vulnerability. Boots dramatises White’s real-life experiences with a fresh ensemble approach, offering a rare and powerful lens on military culture, queer resilience, and the transformative crucible of belonging.
Through its layered storytelling and diverse creative team, the Netflix series challenges stereotypes and invites viewers into a world where courage is measured not just by physical endurance, but by the quiet strength to be oneself.
Miles Heizer as Cameron Cope (Photo courtesy of Netflix)
Boots follows Cameron Cope, played by Miles Heizer, a fictionalised version of White, as he enlists in the Marines in 1990—four years before the “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” policy was enacted. The series is based on White’s 2015 memoir The Pink Marine, which recounts his real-life journey through boot camp at Parris Island in 1979, a time when being gay in the military was not only taboo but illegal.
White’s decision to enlist alongside his best friend Dale, under the Buddy Program, sets the stage for a story that is both deeply personal and socially resonant. The show adapts this narrative with dramatic liberties, shifting the timeline to 1990 to reflect a moment of cultural transition and to allow for broader ensemble storytelling.
White, who served as executive producer and contributed to the writing, was mentored by legendary television producer Norman Lear.
Lear’s advice—“Write the story you want to tell”—became the guiding principle behind both the memoir and the series. White’s goal was to create a narrative that could offer validation and visibility to LGBTQ+ youth, especially those struggling with identity in environments of exclusion. In interviews, White has spoken about the emotional toll of boot camp, the fear of being outed, and the strength he found in perseverance. These themes are central to Boots, which balances humor, grit, and vulnerability across its eight episodes.
Directed by a team that includes Parker and Cecil, Boots blends ensemble storytelling with intimate character arcs. Each episode highlights different recruits in Cameron’s platoon, exploring their backgrounds, fears, and evolving relationships. The series culminates in “The Crucible,” the final test of physical and emotional endurance, symbolizing the transformation from civilian to Marine. The ensemble cast, including Liam Oh as Ray (Cameron’s best friend), brings depth and diversity to the narrative, reflecting the varied experiences of young people entering military service.
What inspired Boots was not just White’s personal journey but a broader cultural need to revisit the military’s history of LGBTQ+ exclusion.
The series is set in a time when being gay in the military was punishable by discharge or worse. White’s memoir was born from a desire to offer hope to those who felt invisible. He recalled searching for books and shows that might affirm his identity and finding none. Writing The Pink Marine was his way of putting something on the shelf for others to find. The adaptation into Boots expands that mission, turning a singular story into a communal one.
Max Parker (right) stars as Sergeant Robert “Bobby” Sullivan in “Boots.” Pictured with Liam Oh as Ray (Photo courtesy of Netflix)
The significance of Boots lies in its ability to humanise and complicate the military experience.
It challenges the stereotype of the Marine as hyper-masculine and emotionally closed, showing instead a group of young people grappling with fear, identity, and belonging. Cameron’s journey is not just about surviving boot camp—it’s about learning to trust, to lead, and to be seen. The series also explores the tension between conformity and authenticity, as Cameron must navigate a system designed to suppress difference while trying to hold onto his sense of self.
Boots also serves as a cultural critique of military policies and societal attitudes.
By setting the story just before “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell,” the show captures a moment of ambiguity—when change was on the horizon but not yet realized. This allows for nuanced portrayals of characters like Sergeant Sullivan (played by Max Parker), who embodies both the rigidity of the institution and the possibility of empathy. The series doesn’t offer easy answers but instead invites viewers to sit with the discomfort of contradiction: the pride of service alongside the pain of exclusion.
Visually and tonally, Boots balances the harshness of boot camp with moments of levity and tenderness
The writing is sharp, often laced with humor that emerges from the absurdity of military rituals and the awkwardness of adolescence. Yet beneath the laughs is a steady pulse of emotional truth. Cameron’s internal monologue, his silent fears, and his small acts of resistance are portrayed with sensitivity and depth.
The series avoids melodrama, opting instead for quiet revelations and earned catharsis.
Critically, Boots has been praised for its authenticity and emotional resonance. Viewers and reviewers have highlighted its ability to tell a queer story within a traditionally conservative setting without resorting to clichés. The show’s ensemble format allows for multiple entry points, making it accessible to a wide audience. Whether one connects with the military aspect, the coming-of-age arc, or the LGBTQ+ themes, Boots offers a narrative that is both specific and universal.
In the broader landscape of television, Boots stands out as a rare blend of memoir, advocacy, and ensemble drama. It joins a growing canon of queer storytelling that seeks not just to entertain but to affirm and challenge. By drawing from real-life experiences and adapting them with care, the series honours the complexity of its source material while expanding its reach. It is a testament to the power of storytelling to transform pain into connection, silence into voice, and isolation into community.
Max Parker as Sergeant Robert “Bobby” Sullivan in “Boots.” (Photo courtesy of Netflix)
The series brings together a diverse and accomplished team of directors and screenwriters to tell its emotionally resonant story of a closeted gay teenager navigating U.S. Marine Corps boot camp in the early 1990s.
The directorial team includes Peter Hoar, who helmed the premiere episode “The Pink Marine,” setting the tone for the series with a blend of vulnerability and grit. Phil Abraham directed episodes two and three, “The Buddy System” and “The Confidence Course,” bringing his cinematic sensibility to the physical and emotional trials of early training. Silas Howard, known for his work on inclusive and character-driven narratives, directed episodes four and five, “Sink or Swim” and “Bullseye,” which delve into the evolving dynamics among the recruits. Kyle Patrick Alvarez directed episodes six and eight, including the finale “The Crucible,” capturing the transformation and reckoning that define the series’ emotional climax. Tanya Hamilton directed episode seven, “Love is a Battlefield,” adding depth to the interpersonal tensions and moments of unexpected tenderness.
The writing team is equally rich and varied: Andy Parker penned the first and final episodes, anchoring the arc of protagonist Cameron Cope. Greg Cope White wrote episode four, drawing directly from his lived experience. Other writers include Jonathan Caren (episode two), Andrea Ciannavei (episodes three and eight), Megan Ferrell Burke (episode five), Nick Jones Jr. (episode six), and Dominic Colón (episode seven). Together, this creative ensemble shaped Boots into a layered, heartfelt series that honours both the specificity of White’s journey and the broader themes of identity, resilience, and belonging.
Greg Cope White is a screenwriter, producer, author, and former U.S. Marine Corps sergeant whose life and work bridge military discipline with creative storytelling and LGBTQ+ advocacy.
White served six years in the Marine Corps, earning the rank of sergeant before transitioning into the entertainment industry. After his honorable discharge, he moved to New York City to study acting and writing, eventually relocating to Los Angeles where he got his first break working with legendary television producer Norman Lear. This mentorship deeply influenced his voice as a writer—one that blends humor, heart, and social insight.
He is best known for his memoir The Pink Marine, which recounts his experience as a closeted gay teenager who joins the Marines under the Buddy Program. The book was adapted into the Netflix series Boots, where White serves as both writer and executive producer. The series dramatizes his journey through boot camp in the early 1990s, offering a rare and resonant portrayal of LGBTQ+ identity within the rigid confines of military culture.
Beyond Boots, White has written for major networks and studios including HBO, CBS, NBC, Disney, Fox, and Sony.
His screenwriting credits include three Netflix original films, and he’s known for crafting stories that combine comedy with emotional depth. He’s also contributed essays to outlets like The Huffington Post and hosted a cooking show on the Food Network, showcasing his passion for food and storytelling. White’s advocacy extends beyond the screen. He is a vocal supporter of LGBTQ+ and veteran rights and was featured in the PBS docuseries American Veteran. A sixth-generation Texan and self-described “bon vivant,” White brings a unique blend of Southern charm, resilience, and wit to all his creative endeavours.
Andy Parker is a television writer, producer, and showrunner
Best known for creating the Netflix series Boots, a military dramedy inspired by Greg Cope White’s memoir The Pink Marine, his personal history and creative vision deeply shaped the show’s emotional and cultural resonance.
Parker grew up in Glendale, Arizona, and as a closeted gay teen in the 1990s, once invited a Marine Corps recruiter to his home to convince his conservative, evangelical parents to let him enlist. Though he ultimately chose not to join the military, the experience left a lasting impression. Years later, reading White’s memoir felt like exploring “the road not taken,” and Parker spent five years developing his adaptation into what would become Boots.
As the series creator and co-showrunner (alongside Jennifer Cecil), Parker wrote the pilot episode “The Pink Marine” and co-wrote the finale “The Crucible.” He also served as executive producer alongside Norman Lear, Brent Miller, Rachel Davidson, and Scott Hornbacher. Parker described his vision for Boots as “Full Metal Jacket told by David Sedaris,” blending the intensity of military transformation with humor and emotional vulnerability.
His approach to storytelling emphasises universality through specificity. While Boots centers on a gay recruit hiding his identity in boot camp, Parker insisted that every character undergoes a journey of transformation—making the series not just a queer coming-of-age story but a broader meditation on identity, resilience, and belonging.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Unmasking the Origins of Horror: Monster – The Ed Gein Story
Monster: The Ed Gein Story was created by Ryan Murphy and continues his Netflix anthology exploring infamous American crimes, drawing inspiration from real-life events and their cultural echoes. The series is significant for its chilling portrayal of Ed Gein’s psychological descent and its influence on horror cinema.
Written and co-directed by Murphy, the series continues his shift from stylised horror fiction to dramatised true crime, blending psychological depth with cultural critique.
Who’s the real monster in Monster:The Ed Gein Story? There are quite a few options — with both the viewers, and society at large, included. “The interesting thing about the show is the thesis statement of every season is: Are monsters born or are they made?” co-creator Ryan Murphy asks. “And I think in Ed’s case, it’s probably a little of both.”
Murphy, known for American Horror Story, brings his signature aesthetic to the real-life horrors of Ed Gein, a man whose crimes—grave robbing, murder, and body mutilation—shocked mid-century America and inspired some of the most iconic horror films in cinematic history. The series stars Charlie Hunnam as Ed Gein, delivering a haunting performance that captures both the eerie stillness and fractured psyche of a man shaped by isolation, trauma, and mental illness. Laurie Metcalf plays Augusta Gein, Ed’s domineering mother, whose religious fanaticism and emotional abuse form the crucible of his psychological unravelling.
Monster: The Ed Gein Story was created and written by Ryan Murphy and Ian Brennan, with Max Winkler serving as one of the key directors.
This third installment in Netflix’s Monster anthology continues Murphy and Brennan’s exploration of infamous American criminals through a stylized, psychological lens.
Ryan Murphy and Ian Brennan, longtime collaborators known for Glee, American Horror Story, and The Politician, co-created the Monster series to reframe notorious cases from the perspective of victims and society. Their writing in The Ed Gein Story blends historical fact with dramatised introspection, focusing on Gein’s psychological descent and the cultural ripple effects of his crimes. Murphy and Brennan were reportedly inspired by how Gein’s story influenced horror cinema, particularly films like Psycho, The Texas Chain Saw Massacre, and The Silence of the Lambs.
Director Max Winkler, known for his emotionally nuanced storytelling, helmed key episodes and shaped the series’ haunting tone. In interviews, Winkler emphasized the importance of portraying Gein’s inner world—his trauma, isolation, and distorted relationship with his mother Augusta. Winkler also crafted the series’ final scene, which ends with the chilling line “Only a mother could love you,” a moment he described as the emotional “Rosebud” of the narrative.
Together, Murphy, Brennan, and Winkler created a series that not only revisits Gein’s crimes but also interrogates the societal and psychological conditions that birthed them. Their collaborative vision turns Monster: The Ed Gein Story into a meditation on monstrosity, memory, and the blurred line between horror and history.
What inspired the series
The inspiration behind the series lies in the disturbing legacy of Ed Gein, whose crimes in 1950s Wisconsin became the blueprint for fictional killers like Norman Bates in Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho, Leatherface in The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, and Buffalo Bill in The Silence of the Lambs.
Murphy’s series doesn’t merely recount Gein’s crimes—it interrogates the roots of monstrosity, asking whether evil is born or made.
The show explores Gein’s childhood under Augusta’s oppressive rule, where he was taught that women were sinful and that intimacy was dangerous. This upbringing, steeped in religious extremism and emotional deprivation, laid the groundwork for Gein’s later obsession with the female form and his grotesque attempts to resurrect his mother through acts of body desecration.
The series dramatises key moments in Gein’s life: the suspicious death of his brother Henry, Augusta’s stroke and eventual death, and Gein’s descent into grave robbing and murder. These events are portrayed not just as plot points but as psychological ruptures, each deepening Gein’s dissociation and feeding his delusions.
What sets “Monster: The Ed Gein Story” apart is its refusal to sensationalise violence
Instead, it offers a slow, unnerving study of loneliness, mental illness, and the porous boundary between grief and madness. The series suggests that Gein’s crimes were less about sadism and more about a desperate, deluded attempt to preserve connection—to his mother, to identity, to meaning. This framing invites viewers to consider the societal failures that allowed Gein’s deterioration to go unnoticed: the inept police investigation into his brother’s death, the lack of mental health support, and the cultural silence around abuse and isolation. By humanizing Gein in his later institutionalized years—medicated, soft-spoken, and seemingly harmless—the series complicates the viewer’s understanding of monstrosity. It asks whether Gein was ever truly evil, or simply broken beyond repair.
The significance of the series also lies in its cultural resonance
By revisiting Gein’s story, Murphy not only reanimates a historical figure but also reflects on the enduring fascination with true crime and the horror genre’s roots in real trauma.
The show becomes a meta-commentary on how society processes fear and deviance through fiction. It reminds us that behind every horror icon is a real person, often shaped by suffering, and that our entertainment is often built on the bones of the forgotten and the vilified.
Monster: The Ed Gein Story thus serves as both a chilling narrative and a cultural mirror, reflecting our collective obsession with darkness and the stories we tell to make sense of it.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Inside the Mind of a Killer: Monster – The Jeffrey Dahmer Story
Monster: The Jeffrey Dahmer Story is a haunting dramatization of one of America’s most notorious serial killers, created by Ryan Murphy and Ian Brennan. The series not only revisits the chilling crimes of Jeffrey Dahmer but interrogates the systemic failures that allowed his atrocities to continue unchecked for over a decade.
Released on Netflix in September 2022, Monster: The Jeffrey Dahmer Story marked the beginning of Murphy’s true crime anthology, later followed by seasons on the Menéndez brothers and Ed Gein.
Murphy, known for his stylised horror and psychological dramas, teamed up with longtime collaborator Ian Brennan to write and produce the series. Directed by Carl Franklin, Paris Barclay, and Jennifer Lynch, the show stars Evan Peters in a career-defining role as Dahmer, with Niecy Nash as Glenda Cleveland, Richard Jenkins as Lionel Dahmer, and Molly Ringwald as Shari Dahmer. The series spans Dahmer’s life from childhood through his arrest in 1991, focusing not only on the gruesome details of his murders but also on the broader social and institutional contexts that enabled them.
The inspiration behind the series was not merely to recount Dahmer’s crimes but to reframe the narrative from the perspective of his victims and the community that tried to stop him.
Murphy stated that the goal was to center the voices of those who were silenced—particularly Black and brown victims whose disappearances were ignored by law enforcement. The series draws heavily from court records, police reports, and interviews, but it also dramatizes the emotional toll on families, neighbors, and survivors. Glenda Cleveland, Dahmer’s neighbor who repeatedly called the police to report suspicious behavior, becomes a central figure in the series. Her warnings were dismissed, and her story exemplifies the racial and systemic negligence that permeated the Milwaukee Police Department at the time.
The series is structured non-linearly, weaving between Dahmer’s childhood, his years of killing, and the aftermath of his arrest.
It explores his upbringing in a fractured home, his early signs of psychological disturbance, and his descent into necrophilia and cannibalism. But rather than glorifying the violence, the show lingers on the emotional devastation left behind. Each episode highlights a different victim, giving them names, faces, and stories—something often missing in true crime narratives. One of the most powerful episodes centers on Tony Hughes, a deaf Black man who was lured by Dahmer and later murdered. The episode is told largely from Tony’s point of view, using silence and visual storytelling to emphasize his humanity and the tragedy of his loss.
Evan Peters’ portrayal of Dahmer is chillingly restrained. He captures the killer’s awkwardness, emotional detachment, and manipulative charm without veering into caricature. Peters reportedly spent months preparing for the role, studying interviews and court footage to understand Dahmer’s psychology. His performance earned him a Golden Globe for Best Actor in a Limited Series and an Emmy nomination. Niecy Nash’s portrayal of Glenda Cleveland was equally lauded, earning her a Primetime Emmy for Outstanding Supporting Actress. Nash brings emotional depth and moral clarity to a woman who tried, unsuccessfully, to stop a monster next door.
The significance of Monster: The Jeffrey Dahmer Story lies in its cultural impact and its critique of institutional failure.
The series became one of Netflix’s most-watched shows, surpassing one billion hours viewed within 60 days of release. But its popularity also sparked controversy. Some viewers accused the show of retraumatizing victims’ families, while others praised it for shedding light on systemic racism and homophobia. The series walks a delicate line between dramatization and advocacy, using horror not for shock but for reflection. It asks hard questions: Why did the police ignore Glenda Cleveland’s calls? Why were Dahmer’s victims—mostly young men of color—so easily dismissed? What does it say about society that Dahmer was able to operate for so long without consequence?
Murphy’s decision to launch Monster as an anthology series reflects a broader ambition: to explore how American culture creates and sustains its monsters. Each season focuses on a different figure whose crimes reveal something about the era, the institutions, and the communities they affected. In Dahmer’s case, the series becomes a lens on 1980s and 1990s America—an era marked by fear of homosexuality, racial segregation, and distrust of marginalized voices. The show doesn’t excuse Dahmer’s actions, but it does contextualize them within a society that failed to protect its most vulnerable.
The series also critiques the media’s role in mythologizing serial killers. Dahmer became a household name, his crimes sensationalized in tabloids and documentaries. Monster resists this trend by focusing on the victims and the survivors. It shows the courtroom scenes, the impact on families, and the community protests that followed Dahmer’s arrest. It also explores the ethical dilemmas faced by Lionel Dahmer, Jeffrey’s father, who struggled to reconcile his love for his son with the horror of his actions. These moments add emotional complexity to a story often reduced to gore and spectacle.
In its final episodes, the series examines Dahmer’s time in prison, his conversion to Christianity, and his eventual murder by a fellow inmate. These scenes are not presented as redemption but as a continuation of the moral ambiguity that defines the series. Dahmer’s death is portrayed with restraint, emphasizing the unresolved pain of those he left behind. The show ends not with closure but with a call to remember—to honor the victims, to question the systems, and to confront the darkness within society.
Ultimately, Monster: The Jeffrey Dahmer Story is more than a true crime drama. It is a cultural reckoning, a meditation on grief, justice, and the human capacity for both cruelty and compassion.
By centering the voices of the silenced and challenging the institutions that failed them, the series transforms horror into advocacy. It reminds viewers that monsters are not born in isolation—they are shaped by neglect, prejudice, and silence. And if we are to prevent future tragedies, we must listen to those who are too often ignored.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Shell: A Seductive Descent into Beauty, Horror, and Identity
Shell is a provocative and stylised entry into the dark comedy horror genre, directed by Max Minghella and written by Jack Stanley.
Director’s Statement
From 1985 to 1994, my mother worked for the British Board of Film Classification. Each day, she would watch a film to determine its appropriate level of censorship and then at night, for my bedtime story, recite the plot to the movie she had seen that day. I would fall asleep, visualising these narratives, dreaming about the T-1000 or Nakatomi Plaza and then later I would get to see these characters and locations realised on celluloid. This practice spawned an inevitable lifelong obsession with cinema.
Shell is a love letter to those bedtime stories.
Shel exists in a different time, when character-driven, genre movies were thriving. When the industry relied on the talent and charisma of movie stars. When musical scores had recurring themes and heroines delivered one-liners. Shel is like a dinner party in which an eclectic array of ghosts are invited to eat together. Death Becomes Her can split a steak with Species, whilst Sliver and Soapdish share a cigarette.
However, this is not just a referential exercise in satire. There is a deep and earnest love for this period in film, and for the themes that this story explores, that drove al of the cast and crew to strive for something unique and thri ling. Hopefuly this sense of joy and mischief comes through and you wi l think of our movie the next time you order a Lobster Rol!
Max Minghela– Director, 2024
The screenplay, originally drafted in 2018, captivated Minghella with its surreal blend of body horror and psychological abstraction.
Though not typically drawn to horror, Minghella found the script’s emotional undercurrents and visual boldness deeply memorable. He collaborated with Stanley to reshape the narrative into a cinematic homage to the genre films he loved as a child, infusing it with a glossy, unsettling aesthetic that mirrors the film’s themes of vanity, identity, and transformation.
Shell is significant not only for its genre-bending tone but also for its commentary on the beauty industry and the commodification of youth. It explores how desperation and desire can warp perception, and how corporate glamour can mask grotesque realities.
Down on her luck actress Samantha Lake (Elizabeth Moss) is invited into the ultra glamorous world of Zoe Shannon (Kate Hudson), CEO of health & wellness company Shell. When their patients start to go missing, including starlet Chloe Benson (Kaia Gerber), Samantha realises Shell may be protecting a monstrous secret.
Director’s Q&A: Max Minghella
How did you find Shell and why did you want to make this film? I had been working on Teen Spirit, my first film, for close to a decade. It was a tremendously rewarding experience, but it was a long time to live with a story that was both deeply personal and quite melancholic in tone. I was yearning to make something less introspective for my own sanity.
I first read Jack’s original screenplay in 2018 and it realy stuck with me. Of course, I immediately thought of Death Becomes Her but there was also something deeply unique about its imagination that permeated my subconscious. It was a long and challenging journey to get the film made, but my excitement for it never dissipated. I fell in love with the characters and their ideas, but most of al, it was just a movie I wanted to see and share with an audience.
What was your approach to the film? It was imperative to focus the film on Samantha and to create a stable narrative framework around her that could alow the movie to be bold and personal. I always found the story inherently funny and didn’t want to shy away from that in the execution. We al took the work very seriously but it was important to me that Shel never took itself too seriously. It goes to some pretty campy places, and you don’t want that to feel incongruous with the rest of the movie.
There is a whole other layer to the approach which I recognize may be a little eccentric…
Certain moments are designed to reflect the imagined studio notes of the early 90’s which had a tendency to push for happy endings and underline exposition. Lydia, the role Este Haim plays in the film, is a nod to the best friend characters that would often serve exclusively as a soundboard for the protagonist. The henchman personifies the Cold War panic that spawned a dozen henchman with shoulder length blond hair. I could go on but essentialy there is an attempt to make something that is not just winking at it’s inspirations but hopefuly embodying them authenticaly.
What would you say are the main themes for the film? Al of us contemplate our age and mortality, so it’s a deeply relatable story. What feels like commentary around vanity and the beauty industry becomes more interesting, especialy as we examine the relationship between Sam and Zoe, Elisabeth Moss and Kate Hudson’s characters. Their dynamic is complex and I’ve always been drawn to vi lains who speak truths with relatable motivations. Zoe is a deeply cynical person, but her arguments can be dangerously persuasive and hopefuly that prevents the movie from ever feeling pious or simplistic.
How would you describe the film’s aesthetic? The film’s relationship to time wasn’t on the page but felt implicit in its tone. It takes place in a future that is not naturalistic but reflective of how we once imagined it on celuloid. Hopefuly this adds some humor to the technology and futurism. I started to identify al sorts of books, music, art, and film which seemed to share the DNA of Shel. Suddenly, we had various references that were so consistent with one another, in terms of set design, wardrobe, color palette… That I realized we weren’t aiming for something wholy abstract, but rather a world that exists with a rich wel to draw from.
When I met Susie Mancini, production designer, she realy bolstered my confidence in the approach and the excitement only grew once Mirren Gordon Crozier and Drew Daniels jumped on board.
Why is it important for people to see a film like this in a theater with an audience? I think every director wants people to see their movies in a theatre but this movie was definitely designed to be participatory for an audience. There’s something almost vaudeville-like about it, so I think it’s fun to see those kinds of movies with a crowd. Shel dips into a wide array of genre spaces but it’s primarily comedic and it’s always more fun to laugh with in a group than alone on a couch.
When people walk out of the theater, what do you hope they take away from this film? My hope is they had a fun time and are surprised by it in some way. And, of course, I hope it lingers with people. I think every time you make something, you hope that it wi l last and have a rewatchable quality to it and hopefuly this one is entertaining enough that you might want to throw it on again at Christmas and make your in-laws uncomfortable
Max Minghella is a British actor, screenwriter, and director known for his eclectic career spanning independent cinema, mainstream television, and genre filmmaking. Born on September 16, 1985, in Hampstead, London, he is the son of Oscar-winning director Anthony Minghella and choreographer Carolyn Choa. Raised amid the creative energy of film sets, Minghella initially resisted the pull of acting, aspiring instead to direct music videos. However, a formative experience watching This Is Our Youth in London’s West End shifted his trajectory. He studied history at Columbia University, balancing academics with summer film roles, and eventually emerged as a compelling screen presence in films like Syriana, Art School Confidential, and The Social Network. His television work, particularly as Nick Blaine in The Handmaid’s Tale, earned him critical acclaim and a Primetime Emmy nomination. Minghella made his directorial debut with Teen Spirit (2018), showcasing his flair for stylized storytelling and musical rhythm. In 2025, he directed Shell, a darkly satirical horror film that blends body horror with psychological unease, marking a bold evolution in his creative voice.
Jack Stanley is a rising screenwriter whose work is defined by psychological tension, genre subversion, and emotional depth. He gained industry attention with his original screenplay Possession: A Love Story, which landed on the Black List, a prestigious annual roundup of Hollywood’s best unproduced scripts. Stanley’s writing often explores themes of identity, transformation, and the uncanny, making him a natural fit for the horror-thriller space. His credits include Lou (2022), a gritty survival thriller, and The Passenger (2023), a taut psychological drama. In Shell (2025), Stanley’s screenplay offers a chilling critique of the beauty industry and the commodification of selfhood, wrapped in a sleek, unsettling narrative. His collaboration with Max Minghella on Shell reflects a shared interest in stylized genre storytelling that probes beneath the surface of desire and control. Stanley’s voice continues to evolve, positioning him as a screenwriter to watch in the realm of elevated horror and speculative drama.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Shelby Oaks – A twisting, tension-fuelled narrative
Shelby Oaks (2024) is a supernatural horror mystery film written and directed by Chris Stuckmann in his feature debut, co-written with his wife, Samantha Elizabeth.
A woman’s desperate search for her long-lost sister falls into obsession upon realising that the imaginary demon from their childhood may have been real.
Shelby Oaks offers a singular horror experience. The film seamlessly blends found footage, faux-documentary realism, and traditional narrative storytelling, defying genre conventions and delivering a uniquely immersive and terrifying journey. For a new generation of horror fans, it’s a theatrical event that feels both familiar and entirely new.
A twisting, tension-fuelled narrative, Shelby Oaks is a gripping mystery – one that unfolds with escalating dread and psychological intensity. As the truth unravels, audiences are taken on a haunting, emotionally resonant ride that lingers long after the credits roll.
Known previously as a prolific YouTube film critic, Stuckmann transitioned into filmmaking with a project that is both deeply personal and genre-savvy.
In his directorial debut, Stuckmann cements his place as a bold new force in horror. With assured visual storytelling, razor-sharp tension, and immersive world-building. Shelby Oaks marks the arrival of a confident and compelling new voice in genre cinema.
The significance of Shelby Oaks lies in its layered origin and emotional resonance. Inspired by Stuckmann’s own upbringing—particularly his experience growing up in a restrictive religious environment as a Jehovah’s Witness—the film explores themes of repression, identity, and belief.
Director’s Statement
It was 2016, and my wife and I were shooting our 4th Annual Halloween Special, a festive series of videos we published to YouTube each October to celebrate spooky season. That year, we adopted a theme ‘cabin in the woods’ horror movies, and we filmed the Special in a cabin deep in the backwoods of Tennessee. We also shot a wraparound segment that featured a mask-wearing, knife-wielding lunatic who documents their kills with a VHS camcorder. On the drive home, we were inspired and discussed adapting the segment into a feature that focused on paranormal researchers who disappear.
But what started as a tale about missing YouTubers eventually transformed into something with deeper, darker implications for its characters. The script was uncommonly structured and I was an untested filmmaker, so generating interest in the film was damn near impossible. Finally, after many months of failed financing attempts, and despite many folks warning against it, I launched a crowdfunding campaign, uncertain of its prospects. To my shock, Shelby Oaks became the highest-funded horror film in the history of Kickstarter, taking in nearly $1.4 million. Immensely grateful, and more than a little daunted by the sudden enormity of the project, we set out to make the film.
I didn’t realize it until post-production, but this became a much more personal project than I had initially conceived. We follow Mia, played by the immensely talented Camille Sullivan, as she searches for her sister, who’s been missing for twelve years. The world believes her sister is dead, yet Mia plows forward, convinced her search isn’t in vain. I was raised in a faith that practices shunning, and when I was twelve, my sister left that faith. I was forced to shun her, and as a result, I cut off all communication with her. I was told my sister was “spiritually dead,” and despite knowing she was alive and well, we didn’t reconnect until my early twenties, after I finally escaped that faith. So it only makes sense that I’d identify with a story about someone’s desperate yearning to find a lost loved one, as seemingly insurmountable forces keep them apart.
With Shelby Oaks, I looked to brilliant films like Joel Anderson’s Lake Mungo, a pseudo-documentary that expertly generates familial terror through the looming knowledge that something awful is going to happen, and there’s little that can be done about it. M. Night Shyamalan’s work on The Sixth Sense and Signs was also a great influence, his uncanny ability to generate tension out of thin air always on my mind. I studied found footage movies and true crime docs, and looked for ways to embrace what I love about both. All those failed financing attempts could be traced back to the fact that a movie like Shelby Oaks didn’t have a proven roadmap. I couldn’t say, “It’s this meets this.” Which is why I’m so grateful to those backers who made the film possible, and to NEON for all their incredible support.
Nine years ago, my wife and I shot a YouTube sketch that has now evolved into a feature film. Over the course of making it, I became a father to twins, and a pandemic shut down the globe. Most filmmakers say that every film they make changes them, and indeed, while making Shelby Oaks, the axis of my entire world shifted. And I couldn’t be happier.
Chris Stuckmann Writer, Director
Chris Stuckmann is an American filmmaker, author, and former YouTube film critic, born on April 15, 1988, in Boston Heights, Ohio. He rose to prominence through his YouTube channel, where his articulate and passionate reviews earned him over 2 million subscribers and a reputation as one of the platform’s most respected voices in film criticism. Deeply influenced by directors like Spielberg, Shyamalan, and Nolan, Stuckmann transitioned from reviewing films to making them, culminating in his feature directorial debut Shelby Oaks (2024), a psychological horror film rooted in personal trauma and supernatural dread. His creative journey has been shaped by a desire to move beyond critique and into storytelling, especially after publicly sharing his experience growing up in a restrictive religious environment. Stuckmann is also the author of two books—The Film Buff’s Bucket List and Anime Impact—and a certified critic on Rotten Tomatoes. His work reflects a deep reverence for cinema as both art and emotional excavation.
Samantha Elizabeth, also known as Samantha Stuckmann, is a writer and creative collaborator who co-wrote Shelby Oaks alongside her husband, Chris Stuckmann. While she maintains a low public profile, Samantha’s contributions to the film reflect a nuanced understanding of character psychology and emotional layering, helping shape the film’s themes of repression, belief, and familial loss. Married to Chris since 2014, she has supported his filmmaking journey both personally and professionally, often working behind the scenes to refine story elements and emotional beats. Her presence in the project adds a quiet but vital depth, grounding the horror narrative in lived experience and relational truth. Though not widely known in the public sphere, Samantha’s creative influence is felt in the film’s emotional core and its commitment to exploring trauma through genre storytelling.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on The Road Back to Pulse: How Reunion Travel Reawakens the Writer
Sometimes, the story doesn’t return through solitude or study—but through motion.
A road trip with a friend you haven’t seen in a decade to reconnect with friends you haven’t seen in years can jolt your narrative heart awake. Not because of the scenery, but because of the company: people who carry forgotten versions of you, who speak in cadences your writing once knew. As the kilometres stretch and the playlists loop, you begin to feel again—laughter, tension, silence, surprise. These textures, once dormant, start to pulse beneath your prose. The road becomes a ritual, the reunion a mirror, and suddenly, your story has breath again.
A road trip with friends can quietly, profoundly revive your story as a writer—not through grand epiphanies, but through the slow reactivation of emotional and narrative pulse.
These friends carry versions of you that time has blurred: fragments of laughter, tension, vulnerability, and shared silence that once shaped your voice. Reuniting with them is not just a social event—it’s a ritual of re-entry. As the road stretches ahead, so does your access to memory, rhythm, and resonance. The act of traveling together—of moving through shifting landscapes and unscripted moments—becomes a metaphor for narrative itself.
Each bend in the road, each roadside stop, each late-night confession offers a new lens for emotional architecture. You begin to feel again, not just in the abstract, but in the granular: the ache of nostalgia, the joy of rediscovery, the quiet weight of what was left unsaid.
These textures are the lifeblood of story
Dialogue sharpens. Banter with old friends tunes your ear to cadence, subtext, and emotional charge. You remember how people really talk—not how characters perform, but how they reveal, deflect, and connect.
This reawakens your instinct for scene, for tension, for the unscripted beats that make dialogue sing. Memory, too, becomes modular.
Recollections surface in fragments—some tender, some raw. These shards can be reassembled into motifs, emotional beats, or entire chapters.
You begin to write not from concept, but from pulse.
The unpredictability of travel—the missed turns, the spontaneous detours, the shared playlists—restores your instinct for narrative surprise. You stop overthinking structure and start trusting rhythm.
Most importantly, you are witnessed.
Friends who knew you before the accolades or the droughts remind you of your core. That clarity strips away performative prose.
You write not to impress, but to connect.
You remember why you began: not for perfection, but for communion—for the ache, the joy, the shared breath of story.
The road doesn’t just take you somewhere. With the right companions, it brings you back.
Back to the version of yourself that wrote with urgency, with curiosity, with emotional charge.
Back to the stories that mattered before you learned to doubt them.
In this way, a road trip becomes a kind of creative revival—not loud, not dramatic, but deeply restorative. It reintroduces you to your own voice, not as a product, but as a living thing. And when you return, you carry not just memories, but momentum.
You write with more pulse, more texture, more truth. Because you’ve remembered that story lives not in solitude, but in shared breath—in the spaces between silence and speech, between past and present, between who you were and who you’re becoming.
“Taking a break from working on my novel to go on a road trip with a close friend I hadn’t seen in 15 years, the journey reconnected us with others we’d both lost touch with—and led to revelations that not only sparked fresh inspiration for my novel, but also unearthed forgotten details that now enrich the story.” Daniel Dercksen
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on The Art of Evaluating Film: A Guide for Writers and Storytellers
Let’s look at how to evaluate films—not just as entertainment, but as crafted experiences shaped by intention, structure, and emotional resonance. Whether you’re a screenwriter, storyteller, or simply someone who wants to deepen their understanding of cinema, learning to watch critically is a powerful tool.
It allows you to move beyond personal taste and into the realm of mechanics: how scenes are built, how characters evolve, how music and pacing shape mood. Evaluating film is not about judgment, but about insight—about seeing the choices behind the curtain and understanding how they serve (or fail) the story.
This skill is not only useful if you’re pursuing a career as a film journalist or critic—it also gives you insight into what readers, producers, and publishers are looking for when they engage with your story.
If you write (or want to write) screenplays, one of the most important skills you can develop is the ability to watch and analyze movies or TV shows critically and objectively.
This doesn’t mean you need to don snobby critic spectacles and declare a film “utter garbage”—not at all. Being a critical viewer simply means understanding the mechanics behind the storytelling.
To become a master of cinematic observation, it’s essential to view films beyond your personal worldview and from a more objective perspective.
Now that you’ve explored visual dynamics and become aware of how filmmakers turn words into action, remember: a film’s story is not only about context, but also about content. Ultimately, it’s your characters who evoke emotional responses from the audience.
Always keep in mind that no matter how poorly a film may resonate with your own experience or taste, every film has a specific audience.
It’s essential to grasp this and learn to sit inside the audience’s zone—outside your comfort zone.
Avoid saying you liked or disliked a film. Instead, explain whether the film worked for you, and why. What emotional, structural, or thematic elements made it effective—or ineffective—for you?
Even if you dislike a particular genre, such as musicals, that shouldn’t prevent you from analyzing a film as a work of art and evaluating its artistic and dramatic merits.
A simple way to improve your critical skills as a movie or television viewer is to take notes:
Make a bullet-point list of moments or events that impacted you
Observe aspects of structure, production, and pacing
Pay attention to transitions, music usage, scene length, recurring motifs, and character interactions
Being a careful and attentive viewer will make you a more thoughtful writer when it’s time to put fingers to keyboard (or pen to paper)
How to Evaluate A Film
FIRST RULE: Remove yourself from the evaluation. It’s not about you, but about what the film, stage play, novel, or painting are saying. (Refer to The World of Film: The Language and Visual Dynamics of Film) SECOND RULE: Do not watch the trailer or read any reviews beforehand. THIRD RULE: Watch the film knowing as little as possible—ideally, nothing at all. FOURTH RULE: Choose a film you haven’t seen before. If possible, select one you wouldn’t usually watch—something outside your comfort zone. FIFTH RULE: After watching, let the film swim around in your head. Give it space to breathe before writing your report.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on The Spoiler Epidemic: How Movie Trailers Are Ruining the Surprise
In an age of instant gratification and algorithm-driven hype, movie trailers have morphed from tantalising glimpses into full-blown plot exposés.
What was once a craft of suggestion and restraint has become a marketing arms race—where studios, desperate to secure opening weekend numbers, reveal far too much, far too soon.
The result?
A cinematic experience that feels pre-chewed, pre-digested, and robbed of its emotional crescendo.
Trailers were originally designed to tease, not tell
A flash of mood, a hint of conflict, a taste of tone. But today’s trailers often function as miniature films, complete with act structures, character arcs, and climactic reveals. The twist you were meant to gasp at? It’s in the trailer. The death that should have shattered you? Already spoiled in a slow-motion montage.
Even genre-defining surprises—like a villain’s true identity or a protagonist’s fate—are routinely sacrificed for the sake of virality and buzz.
This shift is driven by a marketing logic that prioritises clicks over mystery
In a crowded media landscape, trailers must compete not just with other films, but with TikToks, memes, and trending controversies. To stand out, they lean on spectacle and revelation. But in doing so, they flatten the narrative arc. Viewers enter the cinema not with curiosity, but with a checklist—waiting for scenes they’ve already seen, moments they’ve already decoded.
The damage isn’t just emotional; it’s structural
Films are built on rhythm, tension, and release. A well-crafted story invites the audience to lean in, to wonder, to connect dots. But when trailers preempt the journey, they short-circuit that engagement. The audience becomes passive, watching not to discover, but to confirm. The film’s pacing suffers, its surprises land with a thud, and its emotional beats feel rehearsed.
Some filmmakers have pushed back. Directors like Christopher Nolan and Jordan Peele are known for cryptic, minimalist trailers that preserve mystery.
But even their work isn’t immune to studio pressure. Test screenings, marketing analytics, and distribution deals often override artistic intent. And in the age of YouTube breakdowns and Reddit speculation, even a restrained trailer can be dissected into spoilers within hours.
There’s also a deeper cultural cost
When trailers spoil films, they erode the communal magic of storytelling. That gasp in the theater, that shared silence after a twist—these are moments of collective wonder. They bind audiences together in real time. But when everyone already knows what’s coming, those moments dissolve into polite recognition.
The solution isn’t to eliminate trailers, but to reimagine them
To treat them as invitations, not summaries. To trust the audience’s curiosity, rather than manipulate it.
A trailer should whisper, not shout. It should leave space for mystery, for emotion, for the slow bloom of meaning.
Until then, the spoiler epidemic will continue—one overstuffed trailer at a time. And the true magic of cinema, the art of surprise, will remain buried beneath the noise.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on The Power of Restraint: Why Less Is More in Writing
In a world saturated with words—tweets, texts, emails, essays—the art of saying less has never been more vital. “Less is more” isn’t just a minimalist mantra; it’s a powerful writing philosophy that champions clarity, precision, and impact.
Whether crafting a novel, a news article, or a business memo, writers who embrace brevity discover that fewer words often carry greater weight. This feature explores how stripping away excess can sharpen your message, engage your audience, and elevate your prose to something truly memorable.
In the realm of writing, the adage “less is more” has long served as a guiding principle for clarity, elegance, and impact
It’s a philosophy that champions restraint over excess, precision over verbosity, and substance over embellishment. While the temptation to impress with elaborate prose or exhaustive detail can be strong, especially in academic, professional, or creative contexts, the most powerful writing often emerges from simplicity. This isn’t to say that minimalism is synonymous with blandness or lack of depth. On the contrary, when executed skillfully, concise writing can evoke emotion, provoke thought, and leave a lasting impression far more effectively than its verbose counterpart.
At its core, “less is more” in writing is about respect—for the reader’s time, attention, and intelligence. In an age of information overload, where readers are bombarded with content from every direction, brevity becomes a form of courtesy. Writers who embrace this ethos understand that every word must earn its place. They strip away the unnecessary, the redundant, and the convoluted, leaving behind only what truly matters. This discipline forces them to think more deeply about their message, to refine their ideas, and to communicate with purpose. The result is writing that is lean, focused, and resonant.
Consider the power of a well-crafted sentence. Ernest Hemingway, a master of minimalist prose, famously wrote, “For sale: baby shoes, never worn.” In just six words, he conjures a world of emotion, implication, and narrative. The sentence doesn’t explain—it suggests. It trusts the reader to fill in the gaps, to engage with the text actively rather than passively. This is one of the great strengths of concise writing: it invites interpretation. By leaving space for the reader’s imagination, it fosters a deeper connection between writer and audience.
Writing with restraint often leads to greater clarity
When ideas are buried under layers of jargon, qualifiers, and tangents, their essence becomes obscured. Readers must wade through the clutter to uncover the point, and many won’t bother. But when a writer pares down their language, the message shines through. George Orwell, in his essay “Politics and the English Language,” argued that good writing should be transparent, like a windowpane. He advocated for plain words and straightforward syntax, warning against the dangers of inflated language and meaningless clichés. His advice remains as relevant today as it was in 1946.
The “less is more” approach also enhances rhythm and pacing. In narrative writing, whether fiction or nonfiction, brevity can create tension, urgency, and momentum. Short sentences and paragraphs can mimic the beat of a racing heart, the snap of a decision, or the silence of a moment. They can punctuate a scene, highlight a revelation, or underscore a theme. When used strategically, they become tools of storytelling, shaping the reader’s experience in subtle but powerful ways. Writers like Raymond Carver and Lydia Davis have built entire careers on this principle, crafting stories that are spare yet profound.
In persuasive writing, conciseness is equally vital. Arguments lose their force when diluted by digressions or padded with fluff. A compelling thesis, supported by succinct evidence and articulated with precision, is far more convincing than one buried in verbosity. This is especially true in journalism, where space is limited and attention spans are short. Reporters must convey the who, what, when, where, why, and how in as few words as possible, without sacrificing accuracy or nuance. The best news writing is crisp, clear, and direct—qualities that stem from the “less is more” mindset.
Even in academic writing, where complexity is often mistaken for sophistication, brevity has its place. Scholars who can distill intricate theories into accessible language demonstrate not only mastery of their subject but also respect for their audience. They recognize that clarity is not the enemy of depth, but its companion. By eliminating unnecessary jargon and focusing on core ideas, they make their work more inclusive and impactful. The same applies to business writing, where clarity and efficiency are paramount. Whether drafting emails, reports, or proposals, professionals who write concisely save time, reduce misunderstandings, and foster better communication.
Of course, writing less doesn’t mean thinking less. On the contrary, it demands greater intellectual rigor. To express an idea in its simplest form, a writer must understand it thoroughly. They must sift through layers of complexity, identify the essence, and articulate it with precision. This process requires discipline, patience, and humility. It’s easier to write long than to write short. Cutting words means making choices—about what to include, what to omit, and how to say it best. It means confronting the fear that brevity might be mistaken for superficiality, and trusting that the strength of the idea will carry it through.
There’s also an aesthetic dimension to “less is more.”
Just as a minimalist painting can evoke emotion through a single brushstroke, minimalist writing can achieve beauty through restraint. The elegance of a well-placed word, the symmetry of a balanced sentence, the resonance of a quiet moment—all these are amplified when the noise is stripped away. Writers who embrace minimalism often find that their prose becomes more lyrical, more evocative, more alive. They learn to trust silence, to value suggestion, and to wield language with grace.
Yet, it’s important to note that “less is more” is not a universal rule. There are times when richness, detail, and elaboration are necessary—when the story demands it, the subject warrants it, or the audience expects it. The key is discernment. Writers must know when to pare down and when to expand, when to whisper and when to shout. “Less is more” is a tool, not a dogma. It’s a reminder to write with intention, to choose words deliberately, and to prioritize meaning over ornamentation.
In practice, adopting a “less is more” approach involves revision.
First drafts are often messy, filled with tangents, redundancies, and filler. The real work begins in editing, where the writer must become ruthless. Every sentence must be scrutinized, every word weighed. Does it serve the purpose? Does it add value? Can it be said more simply? This process can be painful, especially when it means cutting beloved phrases or reworking entire sections. But it’s also liberating. It forces the writer to confront their own habits, to refine their voice, and to elevate their craft.
Ultimately, “less is more” in writing is about trust—trust in the reader, trust in the idea, and trust in the power of language. It’s a commitment to clarity, a celebration of simplicity, and a pursuit of elegance. In a world that often equates quantity with quality, it’s a radical act of restraint. But for those who embrace it, the rewards are profound. Their writing becomes sharper, stronger, and more memorable. It speaks not just to the mind, but to the heart. And in doing so, it proves that sometimes, the most powerful words are the ones left unsaid.
Tips to help you master the “less is more” approach in writing:
Cut the clutter: Eliminate filler words like “really,” “just,” “very,” and “actually.” They rarely add meaning and often dilute your message.
Focus on one idea at a time: Each sentence should serve a clear purpose. Avoid cramming multiple thoughts into one—break them up and let each shine.
Trust your reader: You don’t need to explain everything. Suggest, imply, and let the reader connect the dots. This creates engagement and depth.
Use strong, specific words: Instead of saying “ran very fast,” say “sprinted.” One precise word beats a string of vague ones every time.
Revise ruthlessly: Your first draft is just the beginning. On revision, challenge every word: Is this necessary? Can I say it better with less?
Trim the fat—then trim again. After writing your first draft, go back and ruthlessly cut anything that doesn’t serve a clear purpose. Look for filler words (like “just,” “really,” “very”), redundant phrases (“each and every,” “basic fundamentals”), and over-explained ideas. Ask yourself: Does this sentence move the piece forward? Does it add clarity, emotion, or insight? If not, let it go. The goal is to make every word earn its place.
Bonus trick: Try rewriting a paragraph using half the number of words. You’ll be surprised how much stronger and sharper it becomes.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Bugonia – An explosive psychological thriller
From visionary director Yorgos Lanthimos comes “Bugonia,” an explosive psychological thriller that offers a pitch-black comic window into our modern age of madness.
Provocative and subversive, the film follows two conspiracy obsessed young men as they burst out of their online rabbit holes and kidnap Michelle, a high-powered CEO they believe to be an alien who has come to destroy us. After the pair chain her in a basement and come face-to-face with the enemy, the two sides — the tinfoil-hat basement dwellers and the steely, soulless corporate executive — soon find themselves pitched in a battle as viscerally unpredictable as it is unexpectedly moving.
Anchored by powerhouse performances from Jesse Plemons and Emma Stone and newcomer Aidan Delbis, along with a devilishly sharp script from Will Tracy, Lanthimos constructs an audaciously original portrait of what it means to laugh, cry, and recoil in the fate of humanity.
In “Bugonia,” our age of conspiracies and paranoia, of disconnect and dread has come home to roost in thrilling, riotously unpredictable fashion.
Convinced that Michelle (Emma Stone), the formidable and ruthless CEO of a pharmaceutical company, is an alien plotting to destroy Earth, two conspiracy-driven cousins kidnap her and chain her in their basement. Led by his seemingly erratic, dark-web ideas, Teddy (Jesse Plemons), the ringleader of the operation, has Don (Aidan Delbis) shave Michelle’s head and slather her in anti-alien lotion, before confronting her about a supposed plan for planetary armageddon that involves bee extinction (the film’s title refers to an ancient Greek belief in the birth of bees from dead cows) and a lunar eclipse.
As an ostensible doomsday clock ticks on, Stone and Plemons go toe-to-toe in raw, unyielding performances suited for what increasingly feels like a cosmic battle for the fate of the world — or at least for the fate of our shared sense of reality. Exploring the fringes of human behavior on lush VistaVision, the film offers an immersive and viscerally charged capsule of contemporary life, plunging us into that familiar, maddening sense of what it feels like to be alive today.
“In the world that we live in now, people live in certain bubbles that have been enhanced by technology,” Lanthimos says. “Having certain ideas about people is reinforced depending on which bubble you live in, creating this big chasm between people. I wanted to challenge the viewer about the things that we’re very certain about, the judgment calls that you make about certain kinds of people. It’s a very interesting reflection of our society and the conflict in our contemporary world.”
Even as Michelle tries to expose Teddy and Don’s harebrained logic, our preconceived ideas about either side slowly morph into thornier revelations as much about ourselves as the trio in the basement.
“It has that sort of microcosmic quality,” says Stone, who produced the film with Lanthimos in their fifth project together. “There’s a sort of insanity and a commentary in the midst of a really small environment, which I think Yorgos tends to be drawn to. We’re in a basement, and it’s really just people talking to each other a lot of the time, having perspectives that feel maybe incorrect or twisted. But they reveal these different versions of humanity and what can happen in a downward spiral of convincing yourself of something.”
That downward spiral might be about us all as much as it is about Teddy and Don, but the film is far too irreverent and unpredictable, Plemons notes, to start preaching to its audience. “The tone of it is so wild and varying — it’s so funny and so tragic, and the way into these very big conversations is so left-field and unexpected,” says Plemons. “It’s a really strange but honest portrait of the times we’re living in, how confusing and absurd it all is.”
Stone agrees, noting the singularly surreal sense of humor nestled within the film’s often “deeply sad elements.” “Bugonia” is, in other words, the kind of horrifically funny — or hilariously horrific — film about our global doom times that only Lanthimos could make.
“While the film is in many ways a comedy, it’s much more layered and textured than that and goes to all these places that you don’t expect it to go, and that’s Yorgos’s happy place,” says producer Ed Guiney. “He’s a master of tonal dexterity: he can pivot from high comedy to tragedy in one nanosecond.”
The film’s origin story, though, can be traced to CJ ENM, who saw the potential for an English adaptation of “Save the Green Planet”.
“We began assembling the ideal team—inviting, one by one, Ari Aster and Lars Knusden, who deeply understood and admired the essence of the original as a devoted fan; Will Tracy, who could infuse the story with the zeitgeist of our times; and Yorgos Lanthimos, one of the rare filmmakers capable of pushing such a daring concept to its limits with his singular vision. We were fortunate to bring together this remarkable combination of talents,” says producer Jerry Kyoungboum Ko of CJ ENM.
When Aster — who produced the film alongside Knudsen, Guiney, Andrew Lowe, Stone, Lanthimos and CJ ENM — told Will Tracy to watch “Save the Green Planet” a few years back, he gave the veteran screenwriter little context. Tracy had never heard of the obscure Korean sci-fi comedy and could barely even track down a faithfully translated copy. But, Aster indicated, there was the seed of another story in there — one about us, now.
“Within twenty minutes of watching it, I knew what he was talking about,” Tracy recalls. “I knew that there was something in this Korean film from 2003 that could be adapted in a very exciting way for a contemporary Anglo-American context.”
Amid the apocalyptic dread of the pandemic’s early days, Tracy wrote a boldly explosive reimagining of the story in a frenzied quarantine haze.
“We were locked-down, and I was probably losing my mind a little bit in this little apartment in Brooklyn,” he says. “I wrote it in about three weeks, and I’ve tried not to analyze it too much, but I’m sure something in that atmosphere made its way into the script – that claustrophobic feeling that I don’t think I would have been able to write if not in those circumstances.”
“It was one of the best scripts I’ve ever read: darkly funny, but with great pathos, drama, story, and fantastic characters,” says Lowe.
That script ended up in the hands of Lanthimos, a filmmaker whose singularly ambitious vision Aster knew could bring Tracy’s new story to life. “Yorgos has such a personal, idiosyncratic style, I knew he would find a new visual and tonal language for the story,” Aster recalls. “It would be a totally new interpretation, as Will’s script had already become in the development process.” Miky Lee, who also developed and produced the film through CJ ENM explains, “Rooted in the DNA of Korean cinema, it has been transformed into something daring and imaginative through the vision of Yorgos Lanthimos and Will Tracy, and vividly brought to life by the brilliance of Emma Stone, Jesse Plemons, and the entire ‘Bugonia’ team. It serves as a reminder that authentic stories can evolve into new forms and find resonance with audiences in profound and unexpected ways.”
When Lanthimos read the script, the acclaimed auteur could immediately see in it a vision for a darkly comic provocation: a new kind of psychological thriller built for the big screen — and for the absurdism of our modern moment. “It was such a quick read,” Lanthimos says of Tracy’s script. “It was entertaining. It was complex. It felt very relevant. It was contemporary.”
That idiosyncratic sensibility is perhaps never more poignant than here, in what might be considered Lanthimos’s most anarchic and profoundly humanistic work yet. It is also one that begs to be experienced in theaters: to laugh, cry, groan, and recoil, among one another.
“Most films should be enjoyed like that, in a cinema with other people. It’s a communal experience, but especially this film, the way it’s filmed on VistaVision, a beautiful format, and the sound design that Johnnie Burn has done, along with Jerskin Fendrix’s score,” Lanthimos says. “It’s just a very full and dramatic experience, both in its hilarity and its horror, that can only be experienced fully in a cinema.”
The Basement
Teddy’s basement in “Bugonia,” says Lanthimos, is a contained environment that operates almost like a twisted science experiment, throwing lab rats into a pool containing all of the anxieties, fears, and farcical realities of modern life. But that experiment soon becomes a kind of fun-house mirror reflection, not only of Teddy, Don, and Michelle — i.e. the lab rats in question — but also us as viewers.
“By limiting the environment in which this conflict takes place, we enhance the focus on the characters and what they represent, but also reveal that what appears obvious in the beginning might not be true,” Lanthimos says. “The film slowly reveals layers and layers of complexity in all of the characters, making whoever is watching the film rethink the biases they might have.”
That might be most apparent in our understanding of someone like Teddy. In preparation for his role, Jesse Plemons went down his own rabbit holes, reading about our age of conspiracy paranoia in books like Naomi Klein’s “Doppelgänger.”
“One thing that Klein said that really makes sense is, with a lot of people that migrate towards some conspiracy theory, the seed of that fear is correct,” Plemons says. “The idea that we are being manipulated, our data is being mined, these forces of evil and this sort of capitalist machine are trying to control our lives — if you have all these valid feelings, where can you go? Really the only people that are really talking about it are these fringe conspiracy theorist podcasters. But the seed of the feeling is correct.”
This complex dynamic strikes at the heart of the prickly complexity of “Bugonia.” Forceful in his beliefs and methods, Teddy may appear to be tinfoil-hat lunatic, but the anger and fear that he is motivated by — capitalist exploitation, ecological disaster, and a sense that, as he puts it, “nobody gives a fuck about us” — is starkly real.
His motivations are only complicated by a darker history that gradually, and terrifyingly, boils to the surface. “He’s been dealt a pretty shitty hand in life,” says Plemons. “He’s got a mother that was a part of this trial opioid drug treatment that left her in a coma, and he just desperately wants to help, but he’s gotten a little lost along the way.”
In his mother’s house in the American heartland — where, Stone notes, things have been suspended in time since Teddy’s mother left — Teddy’s time outside of his factory job are spent beekeeping, researching the true order of the universe, and training with Don to prevent a takeover from an alien species. He has cycled through every fringe political and conspiracy subgroup out there before leeching onto this theory about Andromedan control. But all of his deep dives into rabbit holes has perhaps been a defense against the tide of grief and a deep sense of futility in a society that seems to have used his family and cast them aside.
“He was just left to try to sort through all these feelings of absolute powerlessness and hopelessness,” Plemons says. “All this bubbling inside him — where do I put this? How do I take control over this awful circumstance that I’ve been left with? This belief that he’s landed on has given him a sense of power and purpose and a way to sort these things, even in an indirect sort of way. Anytime the past is brought up, he always takes it back to this mission.”
Plemons sees in Teddy what is, if a more extreme version, a similarly tragic reality that exists for many in an era of division and disconnect. “So many people feel in the world today that they’re just completely overlooked and forgotten,” he notes. “They’re just sort of being blown around by the powers that be.”
In “Bugonia,” Michelle appears to be the soulless manifestation of those powers. The powerful CEO of a pharmaceutical bioengineering company, she is ruthlessly in control of everything and everyone in her orbit. “Michelle’s natural way is in being a CEO and being in charge,” Stone says. “She tries instantly to become that even in the midst of an insane situation with Teddy and Don after she’s kidnapped.”
Whether she is indeed an alien overlord or a billionaire executive, she is “a kind of life-sucking force that’s trying to take something from the Earth,” says Stavros Halkios, who plays a local cop who becomes embroiled in Teddy’s scheme.
At least, that’s the initial impression one might project onto her. “Then, scene by scene, you start to understand her more,” says Lanthimos. “You watch her reveal — or try to conceal — all these other layers.”
The more we get a sense of Michelle as an actual person — rather than what she simply represents as a figure of power — who feels pain and has her own thoughts, the more Don comes to squirm at what he and Teddy are doing. If his theory and the mission at-hand have offered Teddy a kind of control in his life, he only wants to pass that sense of empowerment onto Don, his younger cousin who has also lost his family.
“He’s a kind of a shy and awkward person, but also at the same time shows himself to be, in spite of that, really brave and strong,” Delbis says of Don.
In a way, he notes, Don is almost unwittingly roped into this whole situation, a sensitive soul who is thrust into violent extremes simply out of a love for the only person he has left. “Teddy is kind of the last person in the whole world that Don really feels like he can count on, that cares about him,” he says. “And Teddy sees Don arguably in the same way.”
Plemons concurs. “It’s really tragic and really beautiful, their relationship — they’re all each other has,” he says. But eventually, as the mission reaches its extremes, Don chafes against Teddy’s beliefs and what they’re willing to do to Michelle to get the truth out of her. Ultimately, his ambivalence becomes a placeholder for us.
“Don is the soul of the film and the moral compass,” Lanthimos says. “He represents the audience: He’s always conflicted. He always questions things, but he’s also very loyal to Teddy, and he doesn’t want to go against him. But there’s something inside him that tells him what they’re doing might not be the right thing.”
YORGOS LANTHIMOS – Director / Producer: Yorgos Lanthimos is an internationally renowned, six-time Academy Award®-nominated director, producer and screenwriter, and the winner of numerous accolades including a BAFTA Award, a Golden Globe Award, and the Golden Lion at Venice.
He most recently directed the contemporary anthology feature film, KINDS OF KINDNESS, which he co-wrote with frequent collaborator Efthymis Filippou. The film—a triptych of distinct stories featuring the same actors portraying different characters in each instalment—stars Jesse Plemons, Emma Stone, Willem Dafoe, Margaret Qualley, Hong Chau, Joe Alwyn, Mamoudou Athie and Hunter Schafer. It will be released in theatres by Searchlight Pictures on June 21, 2024.
His most recent feature film, POOR THINGS, written by Tony McNamara and adapted from Alasdair Gray’s novel, grossed over $100 million at the worldwide box office and won the Golden Lion for Best Film at the 2023 Venice International Film Festival, where it world premiered. The film was nominated for 11 Academy Awards, including nominations for Lanthimos in Best Picture and Best Director, and winning four Oscars including Best Actress for Emma Stone. It was also nominated for 11 BAFTA Awards, winning five; and won two Golden Globes including Best Motion Picture, Musical or Comedy, among countless prizes. The Searchlight Pictures film marked another in his ongoing artistic partnership with Emma Stone, who also produced the film alongside Lanthimos. POOR THINGS also stars Mark Ruffalo, Willem Dafoe, Ramy Youseff, Jerrod Carmichael, Margaret Qualley, and Christopher Abbott.
He also recently premiered his black-and-white, silent short film, BLEAT, co-produced by the Greek National Opera and conceived to only ever be screened accompanied by a live classical orchestra, just as it was presented in its world premiere in Athens, Greece and U.S. premiere at the 2023 New York Film Festival. Shot on a remote Greek island during the pandemic, BLEAT stars Emma Stone as a young widow who embarks on a singularly unclassifiable journey through sex, death, and resurrection.
Lanthimos’s film, THE FAVOURITE, written by Deborah Davis and Tony McNamara and starring Olivia Colman, Rachel Weisz and Emma Stone, premiered at the 75th Venice Film Festival where it won the Grand Jury Prize and the Copa Volpi for Best Actress for Olivia Colman’s performance, which also won the Academy Award. A critically-acclaimed and box office hit, the film received a leading 10 Academy Award nominations including Best Picture and Best Director for Lanthimos as producer and director; 12 BAFTA nominations and seven wins, including Outstanding British Film; plus five Golden Globe nominations and winner of a record 10 British Independent Film Awards.
He launched to international attention in 2009 with his second feature film, DOGTOOTH, winner of the Un Certain Regard Prize at the 62nd Cannes Film Festival and nominated for the Academy Award® for Best Foreign Language Film. His first English language feature film THE LOBSTER, starring Colin Farrell and Rachel Weisz, was presented in competition at the 68th Cannes Film Festival where it won the Jury Prize. It earned Lanthimos and co-writer Efthymis Filippou an Academy Award® nomination for Best Original Screenplay. His next film, THE KILLING OF A SACRED DEER, also starring Colin Farrell plus Nicole Kidman and Barry Keoghan in his breakthrough role, premiered in competition at the 70th Cannes Film Festival where it was nominated for the Palme d’Or and won Best Screenplay. He directed, produced and co-wrote the film, which received multiple Independent Spirit and European Film Award nominations.
Born in Athens, Greece, Lanthimos began his career directing several dance videos in collaborations with Greek choreographers, in addition to TV commercials, music videos, short films, and theater plays. His first feature film, KINETTA, premiered at the 2005 Toronto and Berlin Film Festivals to critical acclaim; and ALPS, won the Best Screenplay prize at the 2011 Venice Film Festival, and Best Film at the Sydney Film Festival in 2012.
WILL TRACY – Writer: Will Tracy was a writer and executive producer on the HBO series SUCCESSION, where he won three Emmy awards, as well as a WGA award for writing the episode “Tern Haven.” He was part of the inaugural writing staff of LAST WEEK TONIGHT WITH JOHN OLIVER, winning three Emmys, and created the HBO limited series THE REGIME. Will is also the former Editor in Chief of The Onion.
In features, he co-wrote and executive produced THE MENU for Searchlight Pictures and was a producer on HBO Films’ MOUNTAINHEAD. More recently, Will wrote BUGONIA for Focus & CJ Entertainment which stars Emma Stone and Jesse Plemons with Yorgos Lanthimos directing.
Jang Joon-hwan is a South Korean director and screenwriter born on January 18, 1970, in Jeonju. A graduate of Sungkyunkwan University, Jang made his directorial debut with the short film 2001 Imagine (1994), but rose to prominence with Save the Green Planet! (2003), a wildly original sci-fi thriller that became a cult classic. Known for his bold storytelling and genre fusion, Jang followed with Hwayi: A Monster Boy (2013), a revenge thriller, and 1987: When the Day Comes (2017), a critically acclaimed political drama about South Korea’s pro-democracy movement. The latter won Best Director and Best Film at the Blue Dragon and KOFRA Awards. Jang’s work often explores trauma, justice, and societal transformation. He is married to actress Moon So-ri and continues to influence Korean cinema with his visionary approach.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on TRON: Ares – What it means to be human when the digital and real world collide
TRON: Ares, the electrifying next chapter of Disney’s seminal TRON” franchise, expands upon the enduring legacy of its groundbreaking predecessors TRON (1982) and TRON: Legacy (2010).
The explosive action-adventure is directed by Joachim Rønning from a screenplay is by Jesse Wigutow, with story by David DiGilio and Wigutow, based on characters created by Steven Lisberger and Bonnie MacBird.
For Norwegian-born director Joachim Rønning (Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Men Tell No Tales, Maleficent: Mistress of Evil, Young Woman and the Sea) and the filmmaking team, the key to approaching “TRON: Ares” was to uphold the cherished legacy already celebrated by generations of dedicated fans around the world, and introduce new audiences to the timely, technological spectacle that embodies “TRON.”
“The bar was really high,” Rønning explains. “I wanted to design something new, but familiar. What drew me to the project was the mix of the digital and real worlds. Having a Program exist in the real world was interesting for me – I hadn’t seen that before. And the idea of Ares finding out what it means to be human, what it takes to be human, was fascinating.”
It was also critical that the story have a strong emotional core. Rønning says, “It needs to resonate with me on an emotional level, needs heart. I need to get that right to be interested in these characters, I need to connect with them. Although it’s about an AI program that goes rogue, I’m not so interested in the AI aspect of this story. For me, it’s about Ares’ journey and discovering what it means and what it takes to be human. That’s what it’s all about, trying to answer those questions.”
“The themes of ‘TRON’ are so contemporary,” producer Justin Springer (“TRON: Legacy,” “Oblivion”) adds with a hint of optimism. “Ares shows more humanity than the human who created him. That is Ares’ journey. The story between him and Eve is one of companionship and understanding. It suggests there is a way in which humans and artificial intelligence can learn from one another, hopefully coexist.”
Springer points to the scene when Eve first discovers that Ares is a Program and reacts with compassion as an example. “This is the moment when Eve first realises that a Program as sophisticated as a human can exist in our world,” he says. “She reaches out; she doesn’t recoil. It’s a sign of optimism in our relationship with technology. The technology is here, it’s happening, and it’s rapidly growing; it’s not something we can put back in the box. We have to figure out how to create a better future for ourselves.”
It was clear to producer Sean Bailey (“TRON: Legacy,” “Gone Baby Gone”) that Joachim Rønning was the perfect fit to direct. “Joachim is a really thrilling director,” he says. “He has the ability to make films that have incredible scope, scale and energy, but which also focus on human elements, whether that be the joy of interaction and human rapport or really deep, fundamental emotions. If you look at his body of work, it really evidences that.”
“Joachim Rønning was such a great choice for this movie,” agrees executive producer Russell Allen (“The Lion King,” “The Little Mermaid”), “because he’s a perfectionist when it comes to visuals and shot composition, which are hallmarks of the ‘TRON’ franchise. And he also brought a sensitivity, a sense of drama, and a sense of comedy to it, which rounded out the movie. He found a great balance between honouring the original films and bringing the franchise into the current day. He was a great collaborator; it was just really satisfying to be in the room with him.”
In “TRON: Ares,” a highly sophisticated digital Program, Ares (Jared Leto), is sent into the real world on a dangerous mission, marking humankind’s first face-to-face encounter with artificial intelligence. As Ares experiences his surroundings and has his first brush with humanity, his consciousness – and conscience – start to evolve. He finds an unexpected ally in the brilliant technologist, computer programmer and current ENCOM CEO Eve Kim (Greta Lee), who is on her own journey to discover a critical code written by Kevin Flynn (Je Bridges). Betraying orders and relentlessly pursued, the two fight not only for their survival but for a future where technology and humanity can intersect.
Tron: Ares draws inspiration from a surprising source—Disney’s Pinocchio
According to producer Je rey Silver (“The Lion King,” “The Little Mermaid”), “‘TRON’ is a Pinocchio story. It’s the tale of a flawed character and how he evolves to become a person, learning the intangible ways of the heart and the ephemeral nature of life. And there’s a curiosity we have about what a mind is, and the closest metaphor we have for it in the modern world is the computer. Whether we view the world of computing as intrinsically physical – a brain – or metaphysical – a mind – the computer offers analogous meaning. Ultimately, ‘TRON’ explores what it means to be human, to have empathy, to be finite.”
The undeniable impact of the original “TRON” films is in part thanks to the pioneering filmmaking technology used and an edgy, innovative connection back to the zeitgeist. That meant there were key elements filmmakers needed to keep top of mind for “TRON: Ares.” The stakes needed to feel heightened, the technology needed to be groundbreaking, and the story needed to feel relevant.
As producer Sean Bailey puts it, “the fascination with these films is the ambition of the ideas, both from the perspective of the plot and of the filmmaking. The technology Steven Lisberger and his team pioneered changed how films could be made. They changed everything that came after.”
Bailey adds, “With ‘TRON,’ you’re obligated to do a few things: you have to say something about the future, you have to technologically innovate, and you have to explore our relationship with technology. Whenever I would say to people in the early days of this film, ‘Imagine the light cycles but at a 130-mph chase on a freeway,’ everybody’s eyes would get big. From a visual perspective, we are saying something very new. And the ideas this movie is exploring in terms of technology and our relationship with it is also very exciting.”
That “TRON: Ares” has something new to say is upheld by the franchise’s creator. “You know,” says Steven Lisberger (“TRON,” “TRON: Legacy”), “today’s audience often complains that movies are no longer radical enough or experimental enough or creative enough. I don’t want to hear that about this movie. This is a highly experimental film! Sure, its lore goes back to 1982, but ‘TRON: Ares’ goes so far past that.”
Director Joachim Rønning revealed that Jared Leto’s character, Ares, was conceived with the idea of a digital being yearning to become “real,” much like Pinocchio’s desire to be a real boy. This emotional core adds depth to the story, as Ares, a sophisticated AI program, enters the human world for the first time and begins to experience life through fresh, childlike eyes.
Beyond the fairy tale parallel, the film also reflects modern anxieties and hopes surrounding artificial intelligence. It flips the original Tron narrative—where humans entered the digital Grid—by sending a digital entity into reality. This inversion allows the story to explore themes of identity, empathy, and what it truly means to be human in an age of rapidly advancing technology.
A Closer Look at the Production
Practical Sets and Shooting In-Camera: Each Grid had its own unique practical set. Production recreated Kevin Flynn’s original office in painstaking detail. Scenes set at Dillinger Corporation were filmed in huge hangars, and the action sequences were shot over the course of six-weeks of night shoots throughout the streets of Vancouver. “For a film that is so much about technology,” says producer Emma Ludbrook, “and which used technology so much to create it, we had these giant practical sets that were so vast you couldn’t believe they existed in real life. Having a practical set versus a digital set is very different.”
Designing Three Distinct Grids: Unlike the first two films, “TRON: Ares” takes place on three unique Grids: the ENCOM Grid, the Dillinger Grid and Flynn’s Grid. Spearheaded by graphic designer Ellen Lampl, whom production designer Darren Gilford calls, “a graphics powerhouse,” each Grid was made distinct from the other so as not to confuse the audience.
Light Cycles: “What the light cycle has always represented,” says “TRON” creator Steven Lisberger, “is our relationship with technology: we got on it, it’s beautiful, it’s scary fast, and we’ve been hanging on ever since. I think that’s one of the reasons the light cycle is so successful without blatantly declaring its meaning; it’s a silent symbol for how we feel: that we’re just moving so fast!” “The light cycles are the crown jewel of the ‘TRON’ design legacy,” says production designer Darren Gilford. “They have earned a place in movie vehicle lore that, like the Batmobile, are almost religious in nature. Syd Mead designed the original one, and when I began updating it, it felt like I was working on a religious artifact. There are certain things that make a light cycle, unwritten rules as to its visual cues, and you have to stay within those boundaries.”
Light Disks: Perhaps as iconic as the light cycles and light suits are the light discs: keepers of personal data and lethal weapons. As with the Grid, the discs change colour and shape depending on who possesses them and the Program’s position. “A lot of thought went into that,” says property master Dean Eilertson. “Hexagonal shapes were really big in ‘TRON: Legacy,’ and I tend to use them. There’s no rhyme or reason to this; I like the angles.” When Ares, and later Athena, are made Master Control Program, they graduate to a rounded triangular black disk, illuminated with red lights. “We thought it would still feel like ‘TRON’ even if the MCP disc is a di erent shape. We decided that adding a special disc that wasn’t round would tell the audience who is Master Control.” And, Eilertson admits, “We thought it was cool.”
Production Design: While “TRON: Ares” forges its own path, the world of “TRON,” “has a very distinct visual style,” says producer Sean Bailey. “People say, ‘That looks like “TRON,”’ or ‘That sounds like “TRON.”’ You can’t say that about many franchises out there.” And key to developing that continuity was hiring production designer Darren Gilford and his team, who also designed “TRON: Legacy.” “Darren Gilford is an immense talent,” says Bailey. “He did ‘TRON: Legacy’ and JJ Abrams’ ‘Star Wars,’ and he worked on ‘Ascension’ before it was shelved. I love Darren’s ability to dream of and build the most massive environments but simultaneously pay attention to the smallest, most granular detail. When you see his worlds on screen, you feel the magnitude, but it also feels incredibly real and tactile.”
Cinematography and Filming for IMAX: “‘ TRON’ is all about light,” says executive producer Russell Allen. “So the choice of DP was really, really important. We were super lucky and very excited that Je [Cronenweth] was available and said yes. Je ’s use of light, and his use of darkness, were really great additions to the ‘TRON’ aesthetic. Frankly I couldn’t really imagine doing this movie with any other DP.”
Joachim Rønning (born May 30, 1972) is a Norwegian film director, producer, and writer celebrated for his visually ambitious storytelling and international success. Raised in Sandefjord, Norway, Rønning began making short films as a teenager and later studied at Stockholm Film School. He gained prominence co-directing Kon-Tiki, which earned both Academy Award and Golden Globe nominations for Best Foreign Language Film. His Hollywood breakthrough came with Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Men Tell No Tales and Maleficent: Mistress of Evil, both major box office hits. Known for his adventurous spirit and cinematic scale, Rønning directed Young Woman and the Sea (2024) and is helming Tron: Ares (2025), a bold new chapter in Disney’s sci-fi franchise. Married to philanthropist Amanda Hearst, he is a father of three and continues to shape blockbuster storytelling with a distinctly European flair.
Jesse Wigutow (born May 25, 1973) is an American screenwriter and producer known for his work on both original films and major franchise reboots. He began his career in the early 2000s with Sweet Friggin’ Daisies and It Runs in the Family, and has since contributed uncredited writing to high-profile projects like 8 Mile, Eragon, Tron: Legacy, and Warcraft. Wigutow is the credited screenwriter and story creator for Tron: Ares (2025), and also serves as a writer and producer on Marvel’s Daredevil: Born Again. His career reflects a deep engagement with genre storytelling, often blending psychological depth with blockbuster spectacle.
David DiGilio is an American writer, producer, and showrunner known for crafting emotionally resonant thrillers with military and psychological themes. He created and executive produced Amazon Prime’s The Terminal List, based on Jack Carr’s novel, which explores the mindset of a Navy SEAL grappling with trauma and conspiracy. DiGilio’s earlier work includes the family adventure film Eight Below (2006) and the historical drama series Strange Angel. A psychology major, he brings a cerebral edge to his storytelling, often examining the cost of heroism and the complexity of truth. His upcoming projects include The Terminal List: Dark Wolf, continuing his commitment to authentic, character-driven narratives.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Hen showcases original Afrikaans storytelling with a stark, atmospheric tone
Hen, directed by South African filmmaker Nico Scheepers, is a psychological horror film set on a remote farm where a small family confronts isolation, trauma, and an encroaching darkness.
Produced by Nagvlug Films and Nostalgia Productions, the film is part of the kykNET Silwerskermfees 2025 lineup and showcases original Afrikaans storytelling with a stark, atmospheric tone.
Hen was the winner of the following Silwerskerm Awards in the feature film categories:
Best screenplay and best direction for Nico, best sound design for Tim Pringle, best cinematography for Chris Lotz, best editing for Regardt Botha, best makeup and hairstyling for Jolene Cilliers, best costume design for Sulet Meintjes and best actor for Stian Bam.
Scheepers, known for his emotionally resonant dramas like Nêrens, Noord-Kaap and Donkerbos, brings his signature depth and authenticity to Hen as writer and director, blending rural landscapes with haunting psychological tension.
Nico has received several awards for his work in theatre. In 2017, he won the Silwerskerm Award for best director of a short film for Die maan val bewusteloos.
“I find the silence of isolation far more frightening than a jump scare,” Nico said in an interview with Herman Eloff of Terloops. “There is a big difference between a cheap physiological fright, and something that slowly bores into your head like a maggot.”
The film explores themes of survival, grief, and the fragile boundary between life and death, using minimalism and silence to amplify dread. With its eerie setting and intimate character focus, Hen marks a bold shift into genre filmmaking for Scheepers, while retaining the emotional gravity that defines his work.
Hen is a psychological horror film about a man and woman who live alone in an almost derelict house. On a hunting trip, the man comes across a horrific scene where he finds a boy locked in a chest. He takes pity on the child and brings him home, but who is this boy who behaves so strangely?
The film is a sharp reflection on survival in the middle of nowhere, the fine line between life and death, and the eternal struggle between good and evil and hope and despair.
“The suspense thriller Hen by writer-director Nico Scheepers is probably the darkest film made in Afrikaans to date. This is not an exaggerated statement for effect. Scheepers’ debut feature film plays out on a godforsaken farm in a barren, desolate region. The physical landscape is just as bleak as the characters’ psychological interior. Religion is a sole but meagre comfort, as it appears that God and the gods are silent and have turned their backs on humanity,” writes Laetitia Pople on Netwerk24
“With its oppressive atmosphere, compelling narrative and masterful filmmaking, Hen is a cut above. It’s a powerful film that holds its own on an international level and more than earns its place alongside the work of contemporary horror filmmakers,” says Stephen Aspeling of Splingmovies.com.
The film was inspired by his deep connection to rural South African landscapes and his fascination with the emotional weight of silence, isolation, and survival
While Scheepers hasn’t publicly detailed a single source of inspiration for Hen, his previous works—like Donkerbos and Nêrens, Noord-Kaap—reveal a consistent interest in exploring trauma, family dynamics, and the psychological toll of grief. His storytelling often draws from real-life emotional experiences and the stark beauty of the South African countryside, which serves as both a setting and a character in his films.
Scheepers is known for crafting narratives that reflect the fragility of human relationships and the haunting echoes of loss. With Hen, he shifts into psychological horror, using minimalism and atmosphere to evoke dread while maintaining the emotional authenticity that defines his work. The film’s eerie tone and intimate setting suggest a desire to explore how isolation can distort reality—and how even the most ordinary environments can become sites of emotional reckoning.
Nico Scheepers is a South African screenwriter, director, and playwright known for his emotionally resonant storytelling and deep connection to rural landscapes. He rose to prominence with the critically acclaimed television series Nêrens, Noord-Kaap and the crime thriller Donkerbos, both of which showcase his talent for blending psychological depth with atmospheric tension. Donkerbos earned him the SAFTA award for Best Director in 2023 and was featured in the Berlinale Series Select. Scheepers also won the Fleur du Cap Award for Best New Director in 2018 and has received multiple Fiësta Theatre Awards for his work in stage productions. His short film Die Maan Val Bewusteloos won Best Director at the Silwerskerm Festival in 2017. As a playwright, his works have been performed at prestigious venues like the Fugard Theatre in Cape Town and The Market Theatre in Johannesburg. With Hen (2025), Scheepers ventures into psychological horror, continuing his tradition of crafting intimate, character-driven narratives rooted in South African identity and emotional truth.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Black Phone 2 – True evil transcends death
When The Black Phone arrived in 2022, it struck like lightning: a horror film both intimate and terrifying, rooted in the raw vulnerability of childhood.
Adapted from Joe Hill’s short story, the film drew on writer-producer-director Scott Derrickson’s memories of growing up in Colorado, grounding its supernatural terror in unsettling realism. Audiences embraced it not only for its scares but for its honesty. The film earned more than $160 million worldwide, introduced the Grabber (Ethan Hawke) as a chilling new figure in the genre’s canon and established The Black Phone as one of the decade’s most distinctive original horror films.
For Derrickson, the success was personal. “It was extremely rewarding to see audiences embrace the film the way they did, specifically because so much of it came directly from my own childhood,” Derrickson says. “As an artist, seeing those personal feelings and memories connect with so many people—especially young people—added a sense of purpose to the darker memories of my childhood. It made me feel like it was all somehow meant to be.”
For writer-producer C. Robert Cargill, Derrickson’s longtime writing partner and co-founder of their production company Crooked Highway, the sequel gave them an opportunity to once again draw from their own lives. “With Black Phone 2, we were able to keep building on characters rooted in our own childhoods and what it was like growing up in the ’70s and ‘80s,” Cargill says.
Writer-producer-director Scott Derrickson and writer-producer C. Robert Cargill.
“A lot of our real experiences are buried in these stories. That emotional grounding lets us balance the horror with heart. And it is part of why the first film kept growing after its release. When The Black Phone hit Peacock, it took off even more. Teenagers were watching it, making memes and TikToks, remixing scenes. For a lot of them, it was their first horror movie, and they fell in love with the genre. That is when Scott and I started getting messages every day from people asking, ‘When is the sequel? Is there a prequel? Are you making Black Phone 2?’”
Though Derrickson’s career has included genre touchstones such as Sinister, The Exorcism of Emily Rose and Marvel’s Doctor Strange, Black Phone 2 marks the first sequel he has directed. His decision to return came not from expectation but inspiration.
“It certainly did not feel unfinished,” Derrickson says. “I did not feel obligated to make a sequel. What started me down the path of considering the idea was getting an email from Joe Hill with a basic sequel concept. I did not use all of what he pitched, but there was a central notion that I thought was fantastic. And then I realized that if I waited a few years until the kids from the first film were older, I could make a sequel with high school characters. I felt that Finn and Gwen’s story would be worth continuing at that stage of life.”
Cargill adds: “The instinct was to move fast, but we decided to let them grow up a little. We had always talked about doing a high school movie, so we set this one four years later, with the kids now in high school.”
That seed quickly grew into a story with wider scope and deeper stakes.
“When Joe shared his idea with us, he said, ‘I don’t know how or where it happens, but the phone rings, Finn answers, and hears: ‘Hello, Finn. It’s the Grabber, calling from hell,’” Cargill says. “The moment we heard it, we knew that was the movie. From there, it was about building around that idea, and that is what became Black Phone 2.”
The new chapter begins four years after Finn’s (Mason Thames) harrowing escape from the Grabber’s basement. Though the Grabber is gone, Finn is still scarred by the trauma of what happened. His younger sister Gwen (Madeleine McGraw), whose visions once helped save him, now finds herself plagued by disturbing dreams again. In them, she sees images of three boys hunted at a remote winter camp called Alpine Lake. The haunting draws Gwen to the center of a new mystery, with the bond between brother and sister once again defining the fight for survival.
“One of the core themes of The Black Phone was the idea of children carrying the sins of their father, and that continues here,” Cargill says. “In this film, Finn is coping in the same ways his father once did. When we meet him again, he’s numbing himself from the past, falling into the same patterns. We wanted to explore how trauma echoes through families and whether that cycle can be broken.”
Adolescence gave the sequel both its tone and scale. “Picking up with these characters four years later to see how they had changed—and how they had not—was creatively very interesting,” Derrickson says. “As a teenager in Colorado, I went to several Christian winter youth camps, and that became the primary setting for the film. When you are 15, 16 or 17 years old, the emotions you feel are some of the most powerful you will feel during your lifetime. It seemed to me that those bigger and more volatile feelings merited a bigger and more violent movie.”
The influences are rooted in Derrickson’s own history yet also nod to the genre’s lineage
“I am less interested in drawing from other people’s work than in expanding on what elements from my own work seem unique to me,” Derrickson says. “In this case, it was the use of Super 8 footage in very specific ways, drawing on my own memories at Colorado high school winter camps in the early ‘80s and channeling some of the bigger feelings I had when I was a teenager at that time. But I do think all the horror films I saw in the ‘80s still had a kind of invasive, inevitable influence. All the horror camp films—Friday the 13th and A Nightmare on Elm Street being the biggest most obvious ones—and of course, some key imagery from the much more obscure 1983 film Curtains. If you know that film, the homage is clear and unabashed.”
Cargill adds: “And of course, you cannot escape Stephen King’s influence. Scott and I have always been deeply influenced by King, and we built on that in the first film.” King also happens to have deeply influenced author Joe Hill, too. King is his father. “In this film, Gwen is embracing and developing her abilities, while Finn is rejecting his,” Cargill continues. “That duality really echoes those early King stories, especially Firestarter, which made a huge impact on me.”
The creative partnership between Derrickson and Cargill remains the film’s backbone
“Scott is a visionary storyteller with an incredible sense of what works on screen,” Cargill says. “We have a shorthand when we write, which lets us move quickly and take risks. On set, Scott’s superpower is knowing exactly when something is not working. Watching him solve problems in real time is remarkable. He is confident, collaborative and completely locked into the story he wants to tell.”
Derrickson adds: “Cargill started as my writing partner and ended up as Best Man at my wedding. We have been through a lot together and are as close personally as we are professionally. What keeps it creatively fulfilling is the material, of course. It is always about telling a good story. That drives everything.”
For producer Jason Blum, the film reaffirmed what first drew him to the project. “The script for Black Phone 2 reminded me what an incredible foundation Joe Hill’s story gave us, and how brilliantly Scott and Cargill have built on it,” Blum says. “They’ve deepened the mythology while keeping the intimacy of the first film, balancing horror, emotion and character in a way that feels real. That’s what makes great horror—it has to matter, it has to connect—and they’ve delivered that again here.”
Four years after escaping his abductor, Finney (Mason Thames) is now 17 and grappling with trauma and fame as the sole survivor. Four years ago, 13-year-old Finn killed his abductor and escaped, becoming the sole survivor of the Grabber. But true evil transcends death … and the phone is ringing again.
Ethan Hawke returns to the most sinister role of his career as the Grabber seeks vengeance on Finn (Mason Thames) from beyond the grave by menacing Finn’s younger sister, Gwen (Madeleine McGraw).
As Finn, now 17, struggles with life after his captivity, the headstrong 15-year-old Gwen begins receiving calls in her dreams from the black phone and seeing disturbing visions of three boys being stalked at a winter camp known as Alpine Lake.
Determined to solve the mystery and end the torment for both her and her brother, Gwen persuades Finn to visit the camp during a winter storm. There, she uncovers a shattering intersection between the Grabber and her own family’s history. Together, she and Finn must confront a killer who has grown more powerful in death and more significant to them than either could imagine.
Black Phone 2 was inspired by a blend of personal memories, iconic horror imagery, and a desire to evolve the emotional depth of the original film.
Director Scott Derrickson drew heavily from his own experiences attending winter camps in the Rocky Mountains, which shaped the eerie new setting of Alpine Lake Youth Camp—a stark departure from the urban backdrop of the first film.
The isolation, snowstorms, and haunting quiet of the mountains offered a fresh canvas for fear, reminiscent of The Shining, which directly influenced the film’s atmosphere.
Author Joe Hill, whose short story inspired the original, pitched the sequel’s concept, driven by the enduring power of The Grabber’s mask—an image he likened to horror icons like Freddy Krueger and Michael Myers.
Derrickson was initially hesitant to return but was captivated by Hill’s idea and the opportunity to explore Finney and Gwen’s trauma as teenagers, shifting the narrative into a high school coming-of-age horror story.
The result is a sequel that deepens the mythology while embracing a more graphic, emotionally charged tone.
Scott Derrickson is an American filmmaker born on July 16, 1966, in Denver, Colorado. He is best known for his work in the horror genre, directing acclaimed films such as The Exorcism of Emily Rose (2005), Sinister (2012), and The Black Phone (2021), as well as the Marvel blockbuster Doctor Strange (2016). Derrickson studied humanities, philosophy, literature, and theology at Biola University before earning his MFA in film production from USC’s School of Cinematic Arts. His storytelling often blends supernatural elements with emotional depth, and he’s praised for his atmospheric direction and character-driven narratives. Derrickson’s career has spanned over two decades, marked by both indie horror hits and major studio successes. He lives in Austin, Texas, and is married to filmmaker Maggie Levin.
C. Robert Cargill, born September 8, 1975, in San Antonio, Texas, is a screenwriter, novelist, and former film critic. He began his career writing under the pseudonyms Massawyrm (for Ain’t It Cool News) and Carlyle (for Spill.com), before transitioning into screenwriting. Cargill co-wrote Sinister, Doctor Strange, and The Black Phone with frequent collaborator Scott Derrickson. He’s also a published author, known for novels like Dreams and Shadows, Sea of Rust, and Day Zero, which explore themes of mythology, artificial intelligence, and dystopia. Cargill’s writing is characterized by its emotional resonance and genre-blending style. He lives in Austin with his wife and two dogs, and is known for his love of greasy spoon diners and late-night writing sessions.
Joe Hill, born Joseph Hillström King on June 4, 1972, in Bangor, Maine, is a celebrated American author known for his gripping works in horror, dark fantasy, and science fiction. The son of literary giants Stephen King and Tabitha King, Hill chose to write under a pseudonym to establish his own identity in the publishing world, distancing himself from his father’s fame until his breakout success. He graduated from Vassar College in 1995 and began publishing short stories in various magazines and anthologies before releasing his award-winning debut collection, 20th Century Ghosts, in 2005. Hill’s first novel, Heart-Shaped Box (2007), became a bestseller and cemented his reputation as a master of modern horror. He followed it with Horns (2010), later adapted into a film starring Daniel Radcliffe, and NOS4A2 (2013), which inspired a television series on AMC. His fourth novel, The Fireman (2016), debuted at number one on the New York Times bestseller list. Hill is also the co-creator of the acclaimed comic book series Locke & Key, which was adapted into a Netflix series and earned him an Eisner Award for Best Writer. Beyond novels and comics, Hill’s short stories have appeared in numerous anthologies, and his work has won Bram Stoker, British Fantasy, and World Fantasy Awards. He continues to write from New England. His storytelling is marked by emotional depth, inventive horror, and a voice that’s distinctly his own—proving he’s far more than just Stephen King’s son.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Springsteen: Deliver Me from Nowhere – A powerful biographical drama
Springsteen: Deliver Me from Nowhere showcases a young musician on the cusp of global superstardom, struggling to reconcile the pressures of success with the ghosts of his past.
Springsteen: Deliver Me from Nowhere is a powerful biographical drama directed and written by Scott Cooper, based on the book “Deliver Me from Nowhere” by Warren Zanes.
“Beginning production on this film is an incredibly humbling and thrilling journey,” said Cooper. “Bruce Springsteen’s ‘Nebraska’ has profoundly shaped my artistic vision. The album’s raw, unvarnished portrayal of life’s trials and resilience resonates deeply with me. Our film aims to capture that same spirit, bringing Warren Zanes’ compelling narrative of Bruce’s life to the screen with authenticity and hope, honouring Bruce’s legacy in a transformative cinematic experience. It has been a great pleasure to collaborate with Bruce and Jon [Landau] as I tell their story, and their creative energy fuels every part of this journey. As well, I’m excited to reunite with my friend, David Greenbaum [president, Disney Live Action and 20th Century Studios], as he embarks on his new role at Disney, adding another layer of inspiration to this project.”
It chronicles the haunting, intimate creation of Springsteen’s 1982 Nebraska album when he was a young musician on the cusp of global superstardom, struggling to reconcile the pressures of success with the ghosts of his past. Recorded on a 4-track recorder in Springsteen’s New Jersey bedroom, the album marked a pivotal time in his life and is considered one of his most enduring works—a raw, haunted acoustic record populated by lost souls searching for a reason to believe.
Rather than focusing on stadium anthems, the film dives into Springsteen’s internal battles, exploring themes of isolation, artistic vulnerability, and the ghosts of his past. It’s based on Warren Zanes’ 2023 book, Deliver Me from Nowhere: The Making of Bruce Springsteen’s Nebraska.
The film stars Jeremy Allen White as Bruce Springsteen and performs many of the songs live, adding emotional authenticity to the role. White has won consecutive Golden Globe®, SAG, Critics’ Choice and Emmy® Awards in the past two years for his performance in FX’s hit series “The Bear.”
Springsteen: Deliver Me from Nowhere was inspired by Bruce Springsteen’s deeply personal 1982 album Nebraska and the compelling story behind its creation.
The album was born during a period of isolation and introspection, when Springsteen was grappling with fame and personal demons. He later described those days as “some of the most painful” of his life.
Unlike his stadium-filling rock anthems, Nebraska was stripped down and haunting, telling stories of working-class despair and moral ambiguity.
Springsteen initially intended the songs as demos for the E Street Band, but after failed studio attempts, he released the cassette recordings as-is—a bold move that redefined his artistry.
The book’s intimate interviews and behind-the-scenes revelations offered a cinematic blueprint, prompting director Scott Cooper to adapt it for the screen.
The creative partnership between Scott Cooper and Warren Zanes on Springsteen: Deliver Me from Nowhere is a fusion of cinematic grit and musical soul. Cooper, known for his emotionally resonant films like Crazy Heart, was drawn to Zanes’ book for its raw portrayal of Bruce Springsteen’s internal struggles during the making of Nebraska. Zanes, a former rock musician turned cultural historian, brought a deeply personal lens to Springsteen’s story—one that resonated with Cooper’s own artistic sensibilities.
Their collaboration began when producers Ellen Goldsmith-Vein and Eric Robinson optioned Zanes’ book and approached Cooper to adapt it. Cooper immediately connected with the material, citing Nebraska as a formative influence on his own work. Zanes joined the project as an executive producer, ensuring the film stayed true to the emotional and historical nuances of Springsteen’s journey.
Together, they crafted a film that doesn’t just dramatize the making of an album—it explores the emotional terrain of an artist at a crossroads. Cooper’s screenplay channels Zanes’ insights while adding cinematic tension and visual poetry, creating a portrait of Springsteen that’s both intimate and mythic.
Springsteen himself was involved in the project and gave his blessing, though he admitted some scenes were too emotional for him to witness on set. He visited the set occasionally, but deliberately stayed away during scenes that were especially personal. He explained that he didn’t want to interfere with the actors’ performances, saying, “If there was a scene coming up that was sometimes really deeply personal, I wanted the actors to feel completely free, and I didn’t want to get in the way, and so I would just stay at home”.
He praised Jeremy Allen White’s portrayal, calling him “a terrific actor” and noting that White’s interpretation of him would be deeply recognizable to fans. In fact, Springsteen was reportedly stunned by White’s singing—he “couldn’t believe that what he was hearing wasn’t his own voice”.
Jeremy Allen White stars as Springsteen, capturing the artist in a raw, vulnerable state as he wrestles with fame, creative isolation, and haunting memories of his New Jersey upbringing. The story unfolds almost entirely during the brief but intense period when Springsteen recorded Nebraska alone on a four-track cassette recorder in his bedroom. Jeremy Strong portrays Jon Landau, Springsteen’s trusted manager, who pushes him to confront his inner turmoil while championing the unconventional acoustic direction. Stephen Graham delivers a powerful turn as Douglas Springsteen, Bruce’s emotionally distant father, while Gaby Hoffmann plays Adele Springsteen, his quietly resilient mother. Odessa Young joins as a fictional muse, a composite character that represents the emotional void Springsteen grapples with through his music. The film doesn’t seek to glorify—it reveals a man stepping away from stadium lights into a dim room where silence speaks louder than applause. The creative tension, family trauma, and stark honesty that defined Nebraska form the heart of this intimate cinematic journey.
Scott Cooper is an American filmmaker, screenwriter, and former actor born on April 20, 1970, in Abingdon, Virginia. He began his career in front of the camera, training at the Lee Strasberg Theatre & Film Institute before transitioning to directing with the critically acclaimed Crazy Heart (2009), which earned Jeff Bridges an Academy Award. Cooper’s signature style blends emotional depth with gritty realism, evident in films like Out of the Furnace (2013), Black Mass (2015), Hostiles (2017), and The Pale Blue Eye (2022). His work often explores themes of redemption, trauma, and moral ambiguity, drawing inspiration from literary giants like Faulkner and Wolfe. Cooper is married to Jocelyne Cooper and lives in Los Angeles with their three children.
Warren Zanes is a multifaceted American musician, writer, and cultural historian born in 1965 in Exeter, New Hampshire. He first gained recognition as the teenage guitarist for The Del Fuegos, touring with legends like Tom Petty and ZZ Top. After leaving the band, Zanes earned a Ph.D. in Visual and Cultural Studies from the University of Rochester and went on to teach at institutions including NYU. He’s the author of several acclaimed books, including Petty: The Biography and Deliver Me from Nowhere, which inspired the upcoming Springsteen biopic. Zanes has also worked as a Grammy-nominated documentary producer and served as VP of Education at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. His writing and music reflect a deep reverence for American roots culture and the emotional power of storytelling.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Writer-director Benny Safdie talks about The Smashing Machine
From writer-director Benny Safdie (Uncut Gems, Good Time), comes a new film about pioneering UFC Hall of Fame fighter Mark Kerr, at once a high-pressure sports biography and high octane emotional spectacle, transporting viewers to the dawn of a new era as it follows the strongest fighter the sport had ever seen from the heights of fame to rock bottom and back again.
Benny Safdie is a director, writer and actor based in New York. His projects include The Smashing Machine; Showtime/A24’s The Curse, for which he was nominated for an Independent Spirit Award and a WGA Award for writing; Oppenheimer; Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret; The Stars at Noon; Licorice Pizza; Good Time, which he also co-directed and received an Independent Spirit Award nomination for Best Supporting Actor; Uncut Gems; Heaven Knows What; Daddy Longlegs; Telemarketers; Pee-wee as Himself; Thank You Very Much; and Lenny Cooke. He will next be seen in Netflix’s Happy Gilmore 2 and recently wrapped production on Christopher Nolan’s The Odyssey for Universal.
What was it about Mark Kerr’s story that captured your imagination?
It was Dwayne who brought it to me. He approached me in, I think, 2019, to possibly do this movie. I watched the documentary about Mark and instantly fell in love with him, because I couldn’t believe that he existed. There was something about him that I felt like I understood.
What was that?
I think it was the fact that he was dealing with so much, and he had to pretend like he wasn’t, because of the kind of work he was doing. His emotions and complexities and intellectual nature seemed to be at odds with what he was in the ring, which was this kind of enormous, physical, incredible specimen. The two things seemed so contradictory. I wondered, how do you bridge those? It was almost as if, when Mark was outside of the ring, he was covering up that part of him that you saw in the ring. There was something like a disconnect. He was so sweet and so kind, and the way he spoke was so musical and beautiful. There was something interesting to me about what he was hiding and how he was able to smile and pretend like everything was okay until he couldn’t, you know?
Nobody knows what you’ve gone through in your life until you tell them.
Dwayne gets that, too. I knew Dwayne saw exactly what I saw in Mark. That doesn’t happen a lot, where you instantly know that the other person is thinking exactly what you’re thinking. That in itself made me think, There’s something that can happen here, between us. Dwayne and I could do something with this.
When you first got into Ultimate Fighting Championships and Mixed Martial Arts back in the ‘90s, it wasn’t too well-known, was it?
It was very new. And when it was first starting, specifically, there was something intense about it. People were trying to figure this thing out—like, “What is it?” Today you get all of these kinds of fights popping up in your feed. The quality of the imagery is insane. It’s an incredible thing to see. The matches are endless.
I was talking to [former Mixed Martial Arts champion] Bas [Rutten] about it, and he said, “I won all my fights in the first round because the first round was 30 minutes long!” There’s this kind of gladiatorial quality to it.
You have these [fighters] going to Japan and Brazil, and they have such an affection there for this kind of new form of fighting, and yet it has never really been accepted here in the US. Early on, it was kind of neglected. These fighters who are in the movie were not necessarily forgotten, but they weren’t lauded in the same way as boxers, you know?
(L-R) Benny Safdie, Dwayne Johnson Credit: Eric Zachanowich
What happened after Dwayne approached you with the idea for the movie?
There was something really complicated about Mark that I wanted to explore. And there was something about Dwayne, too. He has this image of himself out in the public, but as he spoke to me about Mark, and as he talked about this movie, oh my God! I realised there was a whole other side to him that we could explore together.
There’s a gentleness to Dwayne. I remember when we were talking about his character in the movie, I told him that one of the inspirations for the movie was It’s A Wonderful Life, because if you think about it, what changes in that movie is George Bailey’s perspective on life. Frank Capra does that. He shows you people, and he gets you to understand what they’re going through, their struggle.
Was there any reading material that helped you?
There was an amazing book called Losers. It’s all about different people in various different sports who have lost. And there’s an essay by Gay Talese, who interviewed Floyd Patterson after he lost to Muhammad Ali. And it’s one of the greatest things I’d ever read. Patterson specifically mentioned that when he got knocked out, there were two things that he felt. One was that the whole place wanted to give him a hug, that he felt everybody feel for him in that moment when he went down. The other thing he said was, “I wish there was a trap door in the middle of the ring that led straight to my locker room, because the longest walk I ever had to take was from the ring to my locker room.”
I wanted to show that. I wanted you to feel that walk from the ring all the way back in the elevator so you could experience that vulnerability, in that moment, because you don’t really look at the person who loses. You’re looking at the person who wins and celebrates.
How would you describe your relationship with the real Mark Kerr?
It was strange, because — again, just like with Dwayne — there was something that I felt was unspoken with myself and Mark. Like, Wow, we get each other in a really strange way. I didn’t know how to explain it, but I felt it, and I really did feel like I could trust him, and he could trust me. It was the same way with Mark and Dwayne. Mark would start remembering fights that his mother and father had when he was younger, and that kind of got pulled into his performance with Dawn, because it was an element that everybody can relate to.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on The Smashing Machine – The story of legendary mixed martial arts & UFC fighter Mark Kerr
From writer-director Benny Safdie (Uncut Gems, Good Time), comes a new film about pioneering UFC Hall of Fame fighter Mark Kerr, at once high-pressure sports biography and high octane emotional spectacle, transporting viewers to the dawn of a new era as it follows the strongest fighter the sport had ever seen from the heights of fame to rock bottom and back again.
The journey began with star Johnson watching a 2002 HBO documentary titled The Smashing Machine: The Life and Times of Extreme Fighter Mark Kerr.
“I first saw the documentary in 2008 or 2009,” Johnson says, “and found myself deeply moved.” Adamant about developing the project himself, the actor-producer purchased the rights to the documentary through his company Seven Bucks Production, founded in 2012, before reaching out to Mark Kerr himself.
The details of Kerr’s athletic career alone were fascinating enough to make a compelling sports film. Born and raised in Toledo, Ohio, to an Irish father and a Puerto Rican mother, Kerr became an NCAA Division 1 champion, winning Gold and Silver medals at the World Cup and a Silver medal at the Pan American games — all before he became an ADCC World Champion wrestler.
Johnson wanted to portray every important aspect of Kerr’s journey, including his addiction and recovery, the couple’s brutal arguments during their dark years, and the rich atmosphere and vivid details that define extreme fighting culture —an outlaw sport that was initially considered too uncouth, and violent even for countries that had been sending boxers and wrestlers to the Olympics for more than a century.
All of these elements, Johnson felt, would present an invigorating new challenge after years of focusing his acting career on action-adventure projects, including San Andreas, Rampage, Black Adam; the Jumanji series; the Fast and Furious franchise (and its spinoff Hobbes & Shaw, opposite F&F regular Jason Statham); and Jungle Cruise, the first movie project to pair Johnson with Emily Blunt.
(L-R) Emily Blunt, Dwayne Johnson, Benny Safdie Credit: Eric Zachanowich
Dwayne Johnson — fully inhabiting the man and the machine at Kerr’s fighting peak — shows how the UFC legend dominated opponents inside of the octagonal ring while battling a dependence on painkillers that nearly destroyed what he’d achieved as an athlete. The man who was born to fight is brought to the brink in his operatic, intensely devoted relationship with the love of his life, Dawn Staples-Kerr (Emily Blunt), as their arguments escalate into the kinds of fights that can be heard two houses away.
Johnson, whose own wrestling career as The Rock began after his father became one of the first Black champions in WWE history, obtained the rights to Kerr’s story and was determined to bring it to the screen. When he brought the idea for the film to Safdie, the filmmaker quickly understood that Johnson was the only living actor who could undergo the intense physical transformation required and bring to the role an intimate, lived understanding of the public highs and private lows of life in the ring.
Around this singular performance, Safdie brings to rollicking life the early, disreputable years of extreme fighting, from the small, sparsely attended venues in the American South, where Kerr first competed, to the Pride Fighting Championships in Japan, where tens of thousands of fans gathered to see their heroes face off under the bright lights.
Drawing upon a 2002 documentary about Kerr as well as interviews with other real-life fighting legends, past and present, The Smashing Machine is a devoted portrait of an individual whose strength and fame threatened to eclipse the person inside — as he fought his way to the heights of greatness and tried to keep the foundations from cracking under its weight.
(L-R) Emily Blunt, Dwayne Johnson. Credit: Ken Hirama
The Smashing Machine is also an unconventional love story about two ferociously strong-willed individuals — Mark Kerr and Dawn Staples-Kerr — whose passion and pugnacity erupt and boil over: volcanic yet inseparable. Safdie shoots their showdowns as a verbal version of fighters in the octagon, complete with psych-outs, tactical shifts, and low blows. But, against all odds, the couple’s love for each other endures. In a viciously competitive world, the only thing they can really depend on is each other.
“When I got the call about this project it was disbelief that they were actually going to make a movie,” says Mark Kerr. “Then to add all the star power in it with Dwayne and Emily, and Benny directing it, with A24’s involvement, it was this incredible feeling of pride, gratitude and humility. This amazing cast of people were willing to take on this difficult topic, which was me at the time. In the process a movie was made, but we also made a family,”
When Safdie was completing the first draft of the screenplay the writer-director asked Emily Blunt to help him develop the Dawn Staples-Kerr character, which had not received much attention in the documentary project that inspired the film.
“People are kaleidoscopic — they’re not just one thing,” says Blunt. “Dawn was always going to be at risk of turning into ‘the athlete’s wife,’ which is an occupational hazard for actresses in sports biopics.”
(L-R) Benny Safdie, Emily Blunt, Dwayne Johnson Credit: Eric Zachanowich
Safdie and Blunt felt the documentary lacked context for why Staples-Kerr exhibited certain characteristics. “It became important to both of us that I spoke to Dawn herself, because I knew there was another version of what went down in her relationship with Mark,” says Blunt. “I felt like she deserved a voice, so I called her and told her that I wanted to know her side and become her advocate. A lot of what happened to Dawn isn’t for the faint of heart, but I absorbed everything she told me and made sure we wove it into the film.”
Adds Koplan: “Emily brings so many layers and is so three dimensional in everything she does, in another life she could have been a detective. She had this relentless investigative energy in researching her character’s backstory and building her relationship with Mark Kerr. She helped bring a depth and gravitas to Dawn — you can see her humanity and understand where she’s coming from.”
Benny Safdie (born February 24, 1986) is an American filmmaker, actor, and editor known for his emotionally intense, anxiety-laced storytelling and collaborations with his brother, Josh Safdie. Raised in New York City, Benny studied at Boston University’s College of Communication before co-founding Red Bucket Films. The Safdie brothers gained acclaim for directing Daddy Longlegs, Heaven Knows What, Good Time, and Uncut Gems, the latter earning them the Independent Spirit Award for Best Director. Benny also co-edited their films with Ronald Bronstein and transitioned into acting with standout roles in Licorice Pizza, Oppenheimer, and the Showtime series The Curse, which he co-created with Nathan Fielder. In 2025, Benny made his solo directorial debut with The Smashing Machine, a biopic starring Dwayne Johnson as MMA fighter Mark Kerr. Married to Ava Rawski since 2013, Benny is a father of two and continues to push boundaries in both independent and mainstream cinema.
Mark Kerr (born December 21, 1968) is a retired American wrestler and mixed martial artist whose dominance in the ring earned him the nickname “The Smashing Machine.” A native of Toledo, Ohio, Kerr was an NCAA Division I wrestling champion at Syracuse University, defeating Randy Couture in the 1992 finals. He went on to win gold and silver medals in freestyle wrestling at the World Cup and Pan American Games before transitioning to MMA. Kerr became a two-time UFC Heavyweight Tournament Champion and a PRIDE FC competitor, known for his brutal ground-and-pound style and emotional vulnerability. His struggles with addiction and identity were captured in the 2002 HBO documentary The Smashing Machine, which inspired the 2025 biopic of the same name. Outside the ring, Kerr has worked as a mentor and advocate for mental health awareness in sports, and was inducted into the ADCC Hall of Fame in 2022 for his achievements in submission wrestling.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Roofman – An unbelievable true story
Bringing The True Story To The Big Screen
Filmmaker Derek Cianfrance began his career in indie filmmaking, gaining recognition with emotionally raw and acclaimed dramas like Blue Valentine (2010) and The Place Beyond the Pines (2012). Known for his intimate, character-driven storytelling, he built a reputation for capturing human vulnerability with gritty realism. After making the HBO miniseries I Know This Much Is True (2020), Cianfrance decided to turn his lens to a new kind of story, blending his signature emotional depth with the suspense of a true-crime narrative and a touch of light-hearted, nostalgic fun.
“I felt like I had finished saying what I needed to say about things like ancestry, inheritance, and generational trauma, so I was searching for a way not to repeat myself,” he states. “I had always been attracted to kind of dark stories – I wanted to have some fun making a movie, like the movies I loved growing up,” with real people in real life. “I wanted to explore a new tone, where the line between the tragic and the comic was blurred. I didn’t look at the darkness with more darkness.”
Hunting Lane Films producer and longtime friend, Jamie Patricof had known Cianfrance since their days working in New York at RadicalMedia in the early 2000s and first collaborated in 2010 on Blue Valentine. “His style was unorthodox – you couldn’t contain or control him,” the producer laughs. “That started my understanding of his creative vision being so unique and his unique style.”
In 2021, Limelight producer Dylan Sellers, who found and owned rights to the “Roofman” story, reached out to Patricof to share with Cianfrance, whom he knew was the perfect person to tell the tale of Jeffrey Manchester. “I told Jamie, ‘This is a remarkable TRUE story with the kind of bent character Derek might love,” Sellers shares.
As Sellers predicted, Cianfrance loved the idea, under one condition: He wanted to start from scratch. Patricof recalls, “And when I heard about it, I instantly knew it was something Derek was going to love. He jumped in, and went headfirst, like he always does. Once he gets his claws into something creatively, he’s passionate about it and won’t stop.”
“I heard about it, this guy who had robbed 45 McDonald’s®, had been sentenced to 45 years in prison, had broken out of prison and then lived hidden inside a Toys “R” Us® for six months, while getting involved in a church,” Cianfrance says. “And I thought to myself, ‘Well, that sounds like a fun movie.’ It took place in the suburbs, like the Denver suburbs I grew up in. I understood big box stores. So, I wanted to make a throwback movie to that kind of life,” he says. “But I didn’t know if there was a story there or not.”
So, he asked to speak with Jeffrey, who, in a maximum-security prison in Raleigh, North Carolina, could only respond to a call request himself. “Eventually, I got a phone call from Jeff, which lasted 15 minutes, and was recorded by the prison system,” Cianfrance notes of the maximum a call could be with a prisoner. “I was very intrigued by his story. So, he started calling me, about four times a week for the next four years, telling me his story,” adding, “He started calling me ‘Dr. Derek’ – I think the process was good for him.”
“Derek is a very unique filmmaker, the way he approaches things,” says producer Alex Orlovsky. “He has an incredible emotional intelligence, and he will uncover the truth in any moment. He’s very selective about the movies he makes, and when he finds one that hits him, he will not let go. He’s tenacious and won’t stop until he’s found what’s really at the core of that idea. Not many filmmakers work with that level of integrity.”
“I approached this movie as an investigator, to find out what the truth was of this story,” the director notes. “But the truth here is subjective. I know when I speak to Jeff Manchester, his truth is his own.”
About two years into talking with Jeffrey, he realized he needed to expand his perspective, asking his subject who else he could speak with from his life, like his family, “But then there were people from the real story that we went out and found, too,” such as Leigh Wainscott, Pastor Ron Smith, Sgt. Kathleen Scheimreif, and prison guards, among others. Unlike a historical figure, he notes, “No one has a reference for who Jeff Manchester was. So, I wanted those people to be part of this storytelling.”
“As Derek went into this, both the writing of the script and then also the shooting of the movie, the idea was: How do you tell it honestly? How do you be fair to both Jeff and also the victims? How do you bring the real people into the story – if they want to come to terms with or revisit the story in some ways?” says Patricof.
“I told Derek, I had one request – any way I can publicize the amazing abilities of my detectives, I’m all for it,” says Charlotte-Mecklenburg Sgt. Katherine Scheimreif, who was brought onboard to find Jeffrey after he escaped prison in 2004. After that, her detectives were also all in. “I told them, ‘Y’all need to step up, because this guy is sincere. He wants to do the right thing.’”
During one of his talks with Ron Smith, the director adds, “Pastor Ron told me he looks at the Old Testament as the book of judgement and the New Testament as the book of grace, and he always errs on the side of grace. I felt like that was such a beautiful way to approach Jeff’s story. I tried to look at Jeff with grace as opposed to judgement.”
That commitment to empathy and human complexity has long shaped Cianfrance’s collaborations as well. Back in 2003, advertising exec Kirt Gunn was looking for a filmmaker to put together a series of short films on a limited budget. He queried Jon Kamen at RadicalMedia, who, Gunn recalls, said, “‘I’ve got a guy in the back. You don’t know him, but he’s great – and he’s the only guy you can afford.’ He brought Derek out, wearing camouflage pants and a raggedy black T- shirt with a hole in it.” He explained his story, and Cianfrance explained his approach, and the two have been friends ever since. “He’s always been my mentor,” the director says. “Every project I’ve made I would send the script to Kirt for guidance.”
The two had, for years, hoped for a project they could write together. Interestingly, when he approached his old friend in 2021 about the idea of Roofman, the story of a guy holed up in a Toys “R” Us® for six months, Gunn told him, “When I was in high school, I had a hidden room in the attic behind the theater there,” a secret apartment that became his safe place. “He and Jeffrey even have the same birthday,” Cianfrance says. “So, I thought, ‘This is synchronicity.’”
Gunn made one call to Jeffrey, and became completely intrigued by the strange, quirky character on the other end. As Patricof recalls, “That started a three-year journey writing together. And I think they crafted a beautiful script, one that’s very true to Jeff’s story, but is still an entertaining movie.”
The two found that they had very different, but complementary processes. “I come from theater, and have a real reverence for language and dialogue, the rhythms and musicality of the way people speak,” Gunn notes. “And Derek loves emotional honesty, and probing that, with an inquisitive nature for pulling scenes and dialogue apart, getting to the core of what the emotional truth is. It took us a while, but by the end of it, we got to a point where he could say, ‘I think the thing this scene is about is this emotional moment,’ and then I could go off and write the scene and come back, and it would be exactly the way he had seen it.”
Both writers continued interviewing Jeffrey, with Gunn doing 40 or 50 of the above- mentioned 15-minute calls, and Cianfrance well over 100, calling each other following their calls to discuss what they had learned. “We just first took the pieces from Jeff, the chronological order of how things happened, trying to get to the core of why he did the things he did and the relationships he had, and the regrets he had and the damage he caused. And, the adventures he had,” says Gunn.
“Jeffrey’s actions and ideas are big and explosive, and so they create room and opportunity for real life humor and comedy. It’s delicious for a writer to be able to take that and put it into a screenplay,” says producer Lynette Howell Taylor. “What makes the movie unique are the specifics of his character and how he has these big, outrageous, and often ridiculous ideas that, when you’re a filmmaker, you can take and shoot in a way that really shows you the absurdity of his life. And that’s where the comic genius comes into play.”
The pair’s research, as mentioned earlier, also included interviews with other members of the Jeffrey inner circle, something that had a remarkable effect on their approach. “The turning point for us was when we spoke to Pastor Ron and Leigh Wainscott,” says Gunn. “Each of them had a really unique – and optimistic – view of the experience. They were actually very thankful to have met Jeff, and thankful for the adventure. And that gave Derek and me a real view on optimism, redemption and forgiveness,” themes seen throughout Roofman. “He was a real Peter Pan character, who took people on an adventure. And in the end, even though they had some sadness and some regrets, they also had the most amazing adventure of their lives,” he says, adding, “Even on the phone calls, it’s easy to go with Jeff on a ride.”
As for many of the story details, Cianfrance’s conversations with Wainscott were invaluable. “Derek had many conversations with Leigh. And it was really informative. She gave a lot of specifics that were really helpful for the movie,” says Howell Taylor. “At the center of this movie is the core relationship between Jeffrey and Leigh. And so, for Derek, being able to get Leigh’s perspective and Jeff’s perspective and then bring that information to the actors was really valuable. That creates the dynamic that you see on screen.”
Though she could have been, Leigh does not hold contempt for Jeffrey. “I wasn’t angry with him, I was just upset about the whole situation – and that I had to hurt him. But I did the right thing,” she notes. “There was something different about his mind.” Adds Scheimreif, “He was a mastermind – very intelligent. More than the average person. That was his gift. And his ability to manipulate.”
Though they encountered many perspectives along the way, Cianfrance explains, “We chose to tell the movie from Jeff’s perspective. This isn’t an omniscient point of view film. It’s first person, and it’s from Jeff’s point of view.” Those countless phone calls with him played a crucial role. “Jeff’s voice was in our head. And so he is in many ways, telling the story.” In fact, Jeffrey’s voice is woven throughout the film’s narration. “A lot of the voice over in the film came from Jeff. Much of those lines are things he actually told us. They’re the events that happened in Jeff’s reality of what he created.”
As outlandish as some of the events in Manchester’s life were, filmmakers knew that audiences would still find his character relatable. “Jeff is somebody who I think, in many ways, people can connect to. He was in the military. He was unable to make ends meet and he got to a place of sort of desperation to provide for his family and be a father,” says Patricof. “That led him down a path of crime, which obviously is never acceptable. But I think people, especially today, can understand where – if you can’t put food on the table or you can’t have a roof over your head – what that can lead to. So, on the one hand, I hope people can see that in Jeff. The other thing I hope people can see is that there are consequences for your actions.”
There was actually so much great material that the writing duo had to figure out what to leave out. “There were too many great stories to fit in one film,” says Gunn. “So, it became about curating and deciding which puzzle pieces fit together to tell this story.”
While making tough choices about what stories to include in the film, filmmakers found the most challenging thing about the movie to nail was the tone. “It’s many genres. It is a crime movie. It is a love story. It is a comedy. It has all of these different elements and it flows in and out of these different genres as the movie unfolds,” says Howell Taylor. “Derek is masterful at bringing all of that together, and the production design, the costume design, the hair and makeup are all a part of it. Everything feeds into that delicate balance between those genres of moviemaking.”
There were also many things that were almost beyond belief, though in a movie about Jeffrey Manchester, they sort of made sense. Cianfrance notes that, “There were times we looked at it and said, ‘this is a nonfiction piece, but it feels unbelievable as fiction.’” Like blowing up his dentist’s office to get rid of the X-rays that might point to him as the culprit in the robberies. “Jeff is the smartest dumb guy you’ll ever meet,” says Gunn. “In many ways, he is a mastermind at understanding how things work, people and architecture, and how those are vulnerable and where the weak parts are. But when it comes to just the basic common sense of fitting into a situation with other people, he doesn’t have that common sense. He makes big, broad mistakes that hurt people he loves.” It became a matter of walking the tightrope “of sharing a complicated, flawed, lovable quirky person, and how he created joyful moments, as well as caused damage and created happiness, and was funny, amazing, terrible and quirky – just like we all are.”
Based on an unbelievable true story, Roofman follows Jeffrey Manchester (Channing Tatum), an Army veteran and struggling father who turns to robbing McDonald’s restaurants by cutting holes in their roofs, earning him the nickname: Roofman. After escaping prison, he secretly lives inside a Toys “R” Us for six months, surviving undetected while planning his next move. But when he falls for Leigh (Kirsten Dunst), a divorced mom drawn to his undeniable charm, his double life begins to unravel, setting off a compelling and suspenseful game of cat and mouse as his past closes in.
From Page To Screen
David Stephens and Peter Petrucci wrote and sold the original Roofman script, which was then rewritten by Kurt Gunn and Derek.Cianfrance. Stephens is a filmmaker from Western Australia and has been conversing with the Roofman (Jeff Manchester) for the past 6 years, and also served as an Executive Producer on the film and has directed music videos and shorts, Trigger screening at multiple festivals. Peter is also from Western Australia, graduating from film school at Curtin University. He currently teaches English and creative writing in high school. Peter came across Jeffrey Manchester’s story in the old Canadian TV show, Masterminds and also served as an EP.
Derek Cianfrance was a longtime fan of actor Channing Tatum
In late 2006, after seeing his performance alongside Robert Downey Jr. in Dito Montiel’s A Guide to Recognizing Your Saints, met with him. The director was, at the time, still trying to get Blue Valentine off the ground. “I gave him my script, he read it and met with me, and he said, ‘I love your script, but I just don’t think I’m this guy.’ We shook hands and I said, ‘Maybe down the road. I’ll see you later.’” Back then, Tatum wasn’t yet a father, so didn’t feel he could properly portray the character.
17 years later, in 2023, while in the midst of writing Roofman, Cianfrance had begun thinking of actors to portray Jeffrey Manchester, and, once again, reached out to Tatum, and the two met for a nice, long walk in Prospect Park – a four or five hour walk. “We just went for a long walk through the park, just vibed and hung out,” Tatum recalls. “We didn’t even talk about any movies or projects – just about life.” Cianfrance notes, “I didn’t tell Channing anything about Jeffrey Manchester or what I was working on. But I had this sense from him that he had to be the guy. But I didn’t want to pitch it to him. So I just went back to writing my script, and spent another year, thinking of every word that would come out of Jeff’s mouth was going to be Channing, and started to visualize him as the person in the role. And gradually, and pretty effortlessly, Jeff’s voice became Channing’s voice in my head. From there, the script really started to write itself.
Channing Tatum stars in Paramount Pictures’ “ROOFMAN.”
A year later, in early-2024, he sent Tatum the script and asked if he would do it. “Derek said, ‘So I wrote this thing, and I wrote it for you. It’s a thing I’ve been thinking about. I hope you like it and want to do it,’” the actor remembers. “Can you imagine how scary that is – ‘What do you mean you wrote something for me?’ But I read it and loved it. I love Derek’s movies. He has a very specific tone that’s his… He’s a deeply sensitive soul, but always curious about what is going on beneath the surface.”
His background as a dancer also gives him a certain grace for moving through spaces of the Toys “R” Us® and escaping prison. There’s an elegance in the way he moves through those places,” notes the actress. “There’s nothing like Channing Tatum in a toy store,” adds Cianfrance. “He’s like the saddest dad clown possible. It’s a balancing act, between sad and tragic comedy, which Channing handles so well.”
DEREK CIANFRANCE (Directed by, Screenplay by, Executive Producer) is a director, cinematographer, screenwriter, and editor, who has received critical recognition for Blue Valentine which starred Ryan Gosling and Michelle Williams, and The Place Beyond the Pines which also starred Gosling in addition to Bradley Cooper and Eva Mendes. Cianfrance adapted M.L. Steadman’s multi-year New York Times bestseller, The Light Between the Oceans for DreamWorks, starring Michael Fassbender, Alicia Vikander, and Rachel Weisz. Cianfrance wrote and directed every episode for the 2020 HBO miniseries, “I Know This Much is True,” adapted from the novel of the same name by Wally Lamb and starring Mark Ruffalo. Ruffalo earned a Primetime Emmy for his performance in the series. In 2021, Cianfrance received an Academy Award nomination for Best Original Screenplay with Darius Marder and Abraham Marder for the Sound of Metal, which garnered 6 nominations that year including Best Picture. In addition to his notable feature work, Cianfrance is recognized for his commercials and high-profile branded content including Meta, Chase, the Nike Golf ad for which he was awarded the DGA’s Outstanding Directorial Achievement in Commercials in 2016.
KIRT GUNN (Screenplay by) is an award-winning producer, writer and director. His credits include Executive Producer on Best Picture nominee, Sound of Metal, one of many collaborations with filmmaker Derek Cianfrance. Gunn also wrote and directed the award-winning film Lovely by Surprise, starring Carrie Preston and Michael Chernus. The film won the Special Jury Prize at its premiere at the Seattle Film Festival and made its international premiere at The Edinburgh Film Festival. Of the film, Filmmaker Magazine said— “Lovely By Surprise is a playful and profound literary confection – a brilliantly original debut by Kirt Gunn, one of the most exciting prospects working in American indie cinema.” Critic Godfrey Cheshire observed, “Recalling 70s dark comedies such as Altman’s Brewster McCloud as well as the post-modern reflexiveness of Adaptation, the film’s double-helix tale ingeniously interweaves pathos and hilarity, grief and imagination, entrapment and escape. In his remarkably assured debut, writer-director Kirt Gunn proves himself both a highly distinctive wordsmith and an accomplished visual stylist. Few recent first-time comedies have impressed me more.”
As an owner, creator and Executive Producer at NYC-based Dandelion, Gunn’s episodic narratives were featured in the New York Times and Wall Street Journal and featured on CNN, ABC and NBC. These projects included performances by Ellie Kemper, Anjelica Huston and Jason Mantzoukas. The series “Meet the Lucky Ones” (written by Gunn and directed by Derek Cianfrance) was featured at the Sundance Film Festival. In earlier life, Gunn was a playwright, stage director and actor and served as Artistic Director of The River City Shakespeare Festival, which he founded. Additionally, he was a musician and frontman of Memphis-based The Delta Queens, a band Timeout’s Stephin Merrit noted as “The best live performance I’ve seen in years.” As a harmonica player, Gunn shared the stage with BB King, Albert King, Albert Collins, Buddy Guy and the legendary Fieldstones.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on HIM – A chilling journey into the inner sanctum of fame, idolatry and the pursuit of excellence
HIM lures audiences into the darkest recesses of professional athletics and designs a sinister fantasy version of that world, where the sacrifices required to become the greatest of all time are not just metaphorical but literal.
HIM (2025) is a psychological sports horror film directed by Justin Tipping, co-written with Zack Akers and Skip Bronkie, and produced by Jordan Peele’s Monkeypaw Productions.
“Football happens to be my favourite sport, and the idea of horror set in that world was something that blew my mind from the outset because it seemed difficult to achieve,” Jordan Peele says. “But the screenwriters had done something special. They had taken what I did not realise was creepy about sports and revealed it one notch at a time.”
“It is a perfect Monkeypaw film because of the mischief involved in the idea,” Peele says. “It’s taking something that you are not supposed to touch, something culturally sacred, and figuring out how to cross that boundary in a way that brings everybody along.”
Although set in a twisted version of modern professional football, the film delves into the ancient roots of our 21st century entertainment obsession. In medieval England, as far back as the 9th century, the pre-Lent period known as Shrovetide would feature “mob football” games that would pit one team of men against another in a brutal battle for a ball. “You have to ask yourself, ‘why do we do this?’” Peele says. “Why do we line up people and have them pretend to go to war? Something about seeing the best male specimens fight to the death is a very human sort of horror. And the crazy thing about it is, it’s fun!”
The film taps into other subterranean layers as well. Even the film’s title evokes a sense of meaning and history lying beneath it. For the uninitiated, referring to someone as “Him” is a linguistic evolution of referring to someone as “The Man,” “The Guy,” or more recently, “The G.O.A.T.” (aka The Greatest of All Time). “The term ‘Him’ has become part of the American zeitgeist now,” says producer Win Rosenfeld says. “It is the idea that someone is so transcendent, so undeniable, that we do not even need to use their name. So much of our culture now is centered on heroes, athletes and celebrities, who become that one person, that singular entity that becomes ‘Him.’ But the term has interesting Biblical and mythological allusions, too.” Indeed, HIM is intentionally tugging at the strands of those allusions. “In some ways, football has become a kind of American spirituality.”
Director Justin Tipping saw HIM as a razor-sharp critique of the entire mass-market sports culture and the multiple pounds of flesh we demand from our heroes. “Football is body horror,” Tipping says. “For me, this is a story about what happens when the athlete becomes the commodity and suddenly you are just a warm body being moved around by institutions that are there to drive profit.”
Former college wide receiver Tyriq Withers plays Cameron Cade, a rising-star quarterback who has devoted his life and identity to football. As the professional football league’s annual scouting Combine approaches, Cam is attacked by an unhinged fan and suffers a potentially career-ending brain trauma. Just when all seems lost, Cam receives a lifeline when his hero, Isaiah White (Marlon Wayans), a legendary eight-time Championship quarterback and cultural megastar, offers to train Cam at Isaiah’s isolated compound that he shares with his celebrity influencer wife, Elsie White (Julia Fox; Uncut Gems, No Sudden Move). But as Cam’s training accelerates, Isaiah’s charisma begins to curdle into something darker, sending his protégé down a disorienting rabbit hole that may cost him more than he ever bargained for.
The film’s path to the screen involved building upon the widely praised initial script by Bronkie and Akers
“Skip and Zack had crafted a very clean-line thriller,” producer Ian Cooper says. When Jordan Peele read it, Cooper says, he immediately saw an opportunity to “get even deeper into the intricacies of some of the more insidious aspects of sports.”
The script’s evolution presented Monkeypaw with the opportunity to work with a director who’d been on the company’s radar for years. Tipping, a Filipino American filmmaker from Oakland, California, had made an independent film in 2016, Kicks, that had left a lasting impression with several people at the company, Peele himself among them.
Tipping’s Kicks “perfectly captured, in a beautiful impressionistic way, the obsession with and culture around sneakers,” Cooper says. “It has so much overlap with contemporary culture—style, sports, fashion, luxury, desire, wish fulfillment.” At the time, Peele had just won an Academy Award® for Get Out, and he invited Tipping over for a meeting at Monkeypaw. “It was a pretty surreal experience,” Tipping says. “We talked about my tiny, tiny movie, and to have your peers, especially someone that talented, curious about your own work—my jaw was on the floor the whole time.”
Over the years, Monkeypaw kept Tipping in mind, looking for the ideal project for him to direct, and found it with HIM. From the opening pages of the script, Tipping says, “I was like, ‘Whoa, I know how to do this.’” At the heart of this story, Tipping says, is football—bone-crunching, brain-rattling, multi-billion-dollar pro football—and the two modern gladiators facing off in a secluded coliseum, with only the gods watching.
The relationship between Cam and Isaiah in the film pushes both men to ever-more-grueling lengths, and their chemistry throughout rides on a knife edge of trust, fear, envy and worship. “Cam idolizes Isaiah,” producer Jamal Watson says, “but of course, if you spend enough time around your heroes, they become human—and then you will try to best them. And over the course of the film, we see that beast awaken inside Cam.”
Tipping’s film explores themes that are primal and ancient—experience versus youth, father versus son, darkness versus light, gods versus men, eternal life versus mortality—but the vibe of the film feels electrifyingly new. “Justin is an incredible visionary,” Peele says. “There is so much striking imagery in HIM that you will never see in another film, and to that, Justin and his team have added all these cinematic layers, from the music to the cinematography to the editing. Above anything else, Justin is cool, and he has this ability to capture that over-the-top polish of pro football, while also allowing this creepy sense of humor to sneak in underneath it. He is a one-of-a-kind filmmaker, and this film is like nothing I have ever seen.”
Justin Tipping is an American director, screenwriter, and executive producer known for blending social realism with stylised genre. He launched his feature career with Kicks (2016), a lyrical coming-of-age film that premiered at Tribeca, and has since directed episodes of Flatbush Misdemeanors, Dear White People, and Joe vs. Carole. A graduate of UC Santa Barbara, Tipping’s cinematic awakening came during a semester in Rome, where Italian cinema reshaped his path. His work often interrogates masculinity, identity, and myth through a visceral lens, culminating in HIM, his psychological sports horror debut for Monkeypaw Productions.
Zack Akers is a writer, director, and producer best known as the co-creator of Limetown, the haunting podcast-turned-TV series that redefined audio fiction. A graduate of NYU’s Tisch School of the Arts, Akers began his career producing sports documentaries before pivoting to narrative storytelling. With a penchant for eerie mysteries and psychological depth, he co-founded Two-Up Productions with Skip Bronkie, crafting acclaimed projects like 36 Questions and The Wilderness. HIM marks his leap into feature film, continuing his exploration of identity, obsession, and narrative immersion.
Skip Bronkie, also a Tisch alum, brings a hybrid background in tech and storytelling. After working as a creative director at Facebook and Pinterest, he co-founded Two-Up Productions with Akers, where he helped shape Limetown into a global phenomenon. Bronkie’s work spans fiction podcasts, musicals, and political documentaries, all marked by high production values and emotional resonance. He lives in Brooklyn, often found wandering Prospect Park, and remains committed to crafting stories that linger—HIM being his latest cinematic venture.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Stitch Head – A gothic-inspired animated film
Stitch Head is directed by Steve Hudson and is based on the beloved children’s book series by Guy Bass.
The screenplay was crafted by Hudson, blkending spooky charm with heartfelt themes of identity, loyalty, and belonging. It’s a tale of a misfit hero stepping out of the shadows to protect his monstrous family and discover his own worth.
The story follows Stitch Head, a small, stitched-together creature who was the first creation of the eccentric Mad Professor Erasmus in the eerie Castle Grotteskew. Long forgotten among the professor’s monstrous experiments, Stitch Head quietly keeps order behind the scenes—until a traveling circus ringmaster named Fulbert Freakfinder arrives, promising fame and adventure.
Director’s Statement
As soon as we read Guy Bass’ wonderful children’s book, we knew we had to make Stitch Head into a film.
As a fresh take on the Frankenstein legend, Stitch Head required precious little exposition. Young or old, we recognise the story immediately: we see a towering castle silhouetted by lightning, a mad professor in his laboratory, his poor creation on the slab – and we know that as soon as the fearful townsfolk reach for their pitchforks, TROUBLE is on its way – in the form of the Angry Mob.
In this sense, the genre gave us clear dramatic and visual references. More than that, it allowed us to have a lot of fun with the schlocky theatrics of the Frankenstein story, bringing them crashing back down to earth with the logic of the everyday: If the mad Professor creates Monster after Monster – who looks after them all? Where do they live? And – most pressingly – how on earth can their monstrousness be kept in check to prevent the Angry Mob from burning down the Castle?
As such, Stitch Head is definitely not a horror movie, but rather a comedy adventure that plays with horror as a genre. We tip our hat to all the classic tropes stretching back to 1950s B-Movies, Film Noir, James Whale, all the way to German Expressionism. But these are only ever the raisins in the cake: they are not the dough itself. In order to create the necessary comic distance, in order to be able to laugh at these devices, it was vital the film was grounded in a visual language where the fundamental key is not horror, but humour.
For us, this comic visual language was rooted in another rich cinematic tradition: silent film, with its fixed proscenium of the full frontal camera. Depth is dramatic, flat is funny. In depth, moving objects change size alarmingly and dangerously. In a flat plane, movement is easiest to read – and least threatening to the viewer.
With a locked off, centred camera, the frame takes on huge significance – a comic place of mystery from which all manner of people or props may appear or disappear at any time.
Without an obliging camera poking nosily around the corners on our behalf, our intelligence is constantly engaged and stimulated – looking out for the next surprise, and (now that we have sound) listening intently for the noises off, where lots of laconic gags can play out.
For all its conscious formality, this visual style puts all the focus on the performer. Buster Keaton’s glorious deadpan only comes to life in the face of a camera equally deadpan, equally unblinking, equally still, looking straight back at him. Indeed, Keaton was a prime inspiration for our protagonist Stitch Head, for whom a castle full of monsters is not a place of wonder or terror, but rather a dead-end job of tedium and frustration whose frame he cannot escape.
With this centred, framed visual language as our backbone, we could then help ourselves to all sorts of genre delights with a clear comic distance – having fun with them without being sucked into genre completely. Dollies, cranes, dutch angles, dramatic perspectives, zip pans or crash zooms then become clear choices, quotes even, done with relish – and hopefully a whole extra level of engagement for movie lovers in the audience.
Design
The original Stitch Head children’s books are illustrated by Pete Williamson. Pete’s black and white ink drawings are creative, funny, and deeply empathetic – an essential and organic part of the source material.
A 3D animation family entertainment film needed a different aesthetic, however. The darkness and macabre feel of Pete’s pictures needs to be filled with light and colour. We keep the shadows, the precarious angles of the castle, the bizarre and goofy creativity of the monsters – but we filled it with fun, making the genre a space in which our imaginations can run free in delight.
As such, we’ve had lots of fun adding punky primary colours to the existing drawings, making them pop with a funny, individual style in which every character, every prop, every set is one-off, unique, handmade – just like Stitch Head himself.
Theme – and heart
We loved the comedy, the crazy castle – all the Frankenstein genre fun of the ridiculously frightened monsters and the even more ridiculously frightened townsfolk. But more than that, Guy Bass’ characters had genuine heart and soul. Whether Stitch Head, his bestest best friend Creature or their fellow monsters, this was a story about children growing up without adults – one of the most powerful themes going all the way back to the animation.
Whatever our age – it combines the ultimate freedom with the deepest fear.
Film gives all of us – children and adults – the space to explore such fears in a controlled environment. This exploration is the vital function of storytelling. Our parents can’t do it for us: we have to face our fears alone. Film gives us the chance to walk a mile in someone else’s shoes – to share their struggle, to overcome their wounds, to become more human.
Stitch Head is more wounded than most – and our hearts go out to him for it. Forgotten and ignored by his father-like creator, the Professor, he has isolated himself from his fellow creatures and from his own feelings. Lured away by Freakfinder’s superficial promises of the ‘love’ of show business and celebrity, he eventually leaves the castle. But in doing so, he fails to realise that he is already loved: loved by the Monsters of Grotteskew for whom he has cared for so many years, and most especially, loved by his Bestest Best Friend: Creature.
Stitch Head is the vehicle of the story – an aching negative. Creature is its beating heart: the unconditional positive.
By the end of the film, Stitch Head is ready to lay down his life to save his friends. But more than that – he has learnt the greatest lessons of all: to accept his own monstrousness, and accept and reciprocate the love that is all around him, overcoming his own isolation to become part of his community.
In the nihilistic world of today’s social media, love is increasingly a metric to be quantified, maximised: however much you have, it’s never enough. Our kids deserve a better story than this.
Steve Hudson, Writer/Director
Stitch Head was inspired by Guy Bass’s award-winning children’s book series, which blends gothic whimsy with heartfelt storytelling.
The original books follow Stitch Head, a forgotten creation of the eccentric Mad Professor Erasmus, who secretly keeps the professor’s monstrous experiments from wreaking havoc in Castle Grotteskew.
Bass crafted the character as a metaphor for feeling overlooked and yearning for purpose—something many children (and adults) can relate to.
The story balances eerie, Tim Burton-esque vibes with themes of loyalty, identity, and self-worth.
Stitch Head’s quiet heroism and longing to be seen resonated with filmmakers looking to tell a story about finding courage in unexpected places.
The castle, creatures, and circus elements offered rich material for animation, allowing for a stylized world that’s both creepy and charming.
Though aimed at younger viewers, the story’s emotional core and quirky humor make it appealing across generations.
The collaboration between Steve Hudson and Guy Bass on Stitch Head was a fusion of literary imagination and cinematic vision.
Guy Bass, the original author of the Stitch Head book series, laid the emotional and thematic foundation with his quirky, gothic storytelling. Steve Hudson, drawn to the underdog charm and rich visual potential of Bass’s world, adapted the books into a screenplay that won the German Animation Screenplay Award in 2020.
Bass’s books provided the heart of the story—Stitch Head’s quiet heroism, the eerie Castle Grotteskew, and the circus intrigue of Fulbert Freakfinder.
Hudson wrote the script, preserving Bass’s tone while expanding the narrative for a feature-length animated film. He added cinematic structure and emotional arcs that deepened the characters’ journeys.
Both artists share a love for misfit protagonists and dark whimsy. Hudson’s visual storytelling complemented Bass’s offbeat humor and monster mythology.
Bass was credited as co-writer, ensuring the adaptation stayed true to the spirit of the books. Hudson directed the film, guiding the animation team to bring Bass’s world to life with texture and flair.
Their collaboration resulted in a film that’s both faithful to its source and fresh in its execution—a monster tale with heart, humor, and a stitched-up soul.
Steve Hudson is a British director and screenwriter born on August 6, 1969, in London, England. He began his career as an actor, appearing in films like Full Metal Jacket (1987), before transitioning to directing and writing. Hudson gained recognition for his debut feature True North (2006), a gritty drama about human trafficking that premiered at the Toronto International Film Festival. His work often explores themes of moral complexity and emotional isolation, blending realism with stylized storytelling. In addition to directing, Hudson has written screenplays for both live-action and animated projects, including Stitch Head, which won the German Animation Screenplay Award in 2020. His creative approach is marked by a strong visual sensibility and a focus on character-driven narratives.
Guy Bass is an award-winning British author, playwright, and former theatre producer born on March 6, 1975, in the United Kingdom. He’s best known for his imaginative children’s book series, including Stitch Head, Skeleton Keys, Spynosaur, and Dinkin Dings. Bass’s writing combines gothic charm with quirky humor, often featuring misfit heroes and themes of identity, bravery, and belonging. Before becoming a full-time writer, he worked in theatre and television, which helped shape his dynamic storytelling style. His debut book, Dinkin Dings and the Frightening Things, won the Blue Peter Book Award for Most Fun Book with Pictures in 2010. Bass lives in London with his wife and a vivid cast of imaginary friends, continuing to inspire young readers with his offbeat tales and monster-filled adventures.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Language as Ritual: Rediscovering Roget’s Thesaurus
In an age of algorithmic precision and instant synonym generators, Roget’s Thesaurus offers a quiet rebellion—a return to language as landscape rather than tool.
Its conceptual architecture invites writers to wander, to dwell, to discover meaning not through replacement but through resonance. Unlike digital thesauri that deliver quick fixes, Roget’s unfolds slowly, thematically, like a conversation with the soul of a word. It fosters an organic writing process rooted in intuition, emotional texture, and the nonlinear rhythm of thought. For those who seek not just clarity but cadence, not just accuracy but atmosphere, Roget’s becomes more than a reference—it becomes a ritual.
Using Roget’s Thesaurus in its physical form differs profoundly from using a computer-based thesaurus or digital writing aid, not just in mechanics but in the kind of mental and emotional engagement it invites.
The tactile experience of flipping through pages, tracing thematic threads with your fingers, and stumbling upon unexpected clusters of meaning fosters a slower, more contemplative rhythm.
It resists the instant gratification of search bars and autocomplete suggestions, encouraging instead a kind of analogue wandering—where discovery is shaped by serendipity, not algorithm.
This slowness is generative
It allows the writer to dwell in the space between words, to feel the weight of nuance, and to be surprised by the proximity of ideas that might never surface in a keyword-driven search.
On a computer, the process tends to be more transactional. You input a word, receive a list of synonyms, and often choose the one that fits best by definition or frequency. It’s efficient, but it can flatten the emotional and conceptual terrain.
Digital tools often prioritise precision and speed, which can be helpful for editing or technical writing, but they rarely invite the kind of associative drift that leads to poetic or unexpected language. Roget’s, by contrast, is organised by idea—not by word—which means that even your entry point is conceptual.
You begin with a feeling, a theme, a notion, and from there, you’re led through a constellation of related expressions. This mirrors the way stories and metaphors unfold—organically, recursively, with detours and echoes.
Using Roget’s Thesaurus as a companion in the writing process can foster a deeply organic and intuitive rhythm, one that mirrors the way thought and emotion naturally unfold. Unlike alphabetical dictionaries that isolate words by definition, Roget’s arranges language by concept—grouping synonyms, antonyms, and related ideas into thematic clusters. This structure invites writers to move laterally through meaning rather than vertically through precision, allowing for a kind of associative wandering that mirrors the way the mind actually works when searching for expression.
It’s about finding the right word
Not just the “correct” word, but the one that hums with the emotional and conceptual frequency you’re chasing.
Roget’s doesn’t hand you a synonym; it opens a corridor.
You start with a notion—say, “loss”—and instead of a neat list, you’re offered a constellation: absence, deprivation, bereavement, eclipse, vanishing. Each carries a different weight, a different shadow.
The right word isn’t just accurate—it’s resonant.
It fits the sentence like breath fits a body.
The physical thesaurus resists distraction.
On a computer, the writing process is often interrupted by notifications, tabs, and the temptation to multitask. Roget’s offers a kind of sanctuary—a quiet, focused space where language is the only terrain. It invites immersion, not fragmentation. And because it’s not optimised for speed, it encourages the writer to listen more deeply to their own voice, to question not just what they’re trying to say but how they want it to feel.
In essence, using Roget’s Thesaurus is less about finding the perfect word and more about entering a dialogue with language. It’s a ritual, a slowing down, a way of letting meaning emerge rather than be selected.
For a writer who values resonance over provocation, this analogue process can be a grounding force. It aligns with your ethos of turning absence into story, of crafting language that breathes and remembers.
Roget’s doesn’t just offer words; it offers pathways. And in those pathways, the organic writing process finds its pulse.
Roget’s fosters a dialogue between intention and intuition, allowing the writer to listen to the echo of a word before committing to its surface meaning.
This is especially powerful in poetic or narrative work, where the cadence and connotation of a word can shape the emotional architecture of a sentence or scene. By engaging with Roget’s, writers are invited to slow down, to dwell in the space between words, and to consider not just what they mean but what they evoke.
This cultivates a writing process that is less about control and more about communion—between language, thought, and feeling.
Moreover, Roget’s encourages risk and play; its conceptual groupings often include unexpected or archaic terms that can jolt a writer out of cliché and into originality.
In this way, the thesaurus becomes a generative force, not just a corrective one. It supports the organic unfolding of voice, allowing writers to discover not just what they want to say, but how they want to say it.
The act of browsing Roget’s can also mirror the way stories or essays evolve—through detours, revisions, and sudden illuminations.
It honors the nonlinear, recursive nature of creativity, where meaning is often found in the margins, in the words we didn’t know we were looking for.
Ultimately, using Roget’s Thesaurus fosters a writing process that is alive, responsive, and rooted in the pulse of language itself. It transforms the search for words into a search for resonance, and in doing so, it helps writers craft work that feels not just polished, but lived-in—language that breathes, that listens, that remembers.
📚 Where to Find Roget’s Thesaurus
South Africa-Based Options
Bob Shop (Cape Town-based seller) Offers The Everyman Roget’s Thesaurus of English Words & Phrases (Hardcover) for around R125. View listing here Shipping available nationwide with standard courier options.
PriceCheck Aggregates deals across South African retailers. You can find various editions, including updated versions with thematic panels and quotation boxes. Explore options
International Options
Amazon Offers a wide range—from the 8th Edition Roget’s International Thesaurus to more niche versions like Roget’s Thesaurus of Words for Writers. Browse selections
If you’re drawn to the ritual of secondhand discovery, local bookstores or library sales might yield a vintage edition with its own patina of use. Want help choosing between editions—say, one with more conceptual clustering versus dictionary-style layout? I’d be glad to guide.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Verdi’s Aida bursts onto the big screen with Cape Town Opera’s spectacular all-South African production
Cape Town Opera is proud to announce that the filmed version of its world-class production of Verdi’s Aida, staged earlier this year at Artscape Theatre in Cape Town, will be released exclusively at select Ster-Kinekor cinemas nationwide from 27 – 30 September. This marks the first time that a locally-produced opera is filmed for the big screen.
Cape Town Opera’s spectacular all-South African production is set in a world of African futurism, and reimagines the classic tale of love, loyalty and betrayal combined with epic storytelling and cutting-edge design, video and animation.
Set against a backdrop of war, forbidden love and cultural conflict, this timeless opera follows Aida, an enslaved Ethiopian princess, and Radamès, an Egyptian military commander, as they navigate love amidst loyalty, betrayal and the clash between two civilizations. This innovative production redefines grand opera within an African context.
Lynne Wylie, chief marketing officer at Ster-Kinekor, said the cinema chain was excited to share this local production with opera lovers on the big screen. “Screening alternative content such as opera, theatre and ballet, resonates strongly with our audiences. This is a wonderful opportunity as we believe in the power of cinema to connect audiences with powerful stories, and we are sure our audiences are going to enjoy the experience.”
Under artistic director Magdalene Minnaar’s direction, Aida’s 153-year-old story is told in a unique, indigenous and thoughtful way. Using extensive video and animation alongside vibrant costumes, this futuristic world is vividly brought to life with the help of renowned South African choreographer Gregory Maqoma. By manipulating light, shadow and form, the set unfolds in layers, creating a dynamic space that evolves with the story. The design is both minimalistic and monumental, combining geometric forms with futuristic lighting to evoke grandeur and mystery. The aim for this unique interpretation is to feel unexpected yet deeply resonant, leaving the audience captivated by this new artistic interpretation.
Aida is a fusion of grand opera and African artistry. This production features a chorus of 56 singers and dancers, with U.S.-based conductor Kamal Khan leading the Cape Town Philharmonic Orchestra and has been dubbed a cultural highlight for South Africa in 2025.
Captured live on stage, this cinema release gives audiences around the country the chance to experience some of South Africa’s finest singers, dancers and musicians in a production that is bold, resonant and unforgettable.
The concert film will be screened on 27, 28 and 30 September at the following Ster-Kinekor sites: Eastgate, Cresta and Rosebank Nouveau in Johannesburg; Brooklyn in Tshwane; MooiRivier in Potchefstroom; Mimosa in Bloemfontein; Watercrest in Hillcrest, KZN; Baywest in Gqeberha; Garden Route in George; Somerset Mall in Somerset West; and Blue Route, V&A Waterfront, and Tygervalley in Cape Town.
Bookings for this exclusive concert film are now open on the new-look Ster-Kinekor website at www.sterkinekor.com or download the new SK App on your smartphone. For news and updates, go to Facebook: Ster-Kinekor Theatres | and follow Ster-Kinekor on Twitter: @Ster-Kinekor. For all queries, call Ticketline on 0861-Movies (668 437). Loyalty cards do apply where applicable, including Ster-Kinekor’s half-price Tuesdays on all ticket prices.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on The Strangers: Chapter 2 – More brutal and relentless than ever
The Strangers ― Chapter 2 is the second chapter in rebooted horror trilogy. that follows a separate universe from the 2008 cult classic The Strangers (and its sequel, The Strangers: Prey at Night). It picks up directly from The Strangers – Chapter 1, based on characters created by Bryan Bertino and a screenplay by Alan R. Cohen & Alan Freedland. It will be followed by The Strangers: Chapter 3 in 2026.
Renny Harlin was inspired to make The Strangers: Chapter 2 by a desire to expand the original film’s concept into something more ambitious and emotionally resonant. He saw the trilogy as a chance to evolve the story from a claustrophobic home invasion into a broader, more terrifying “town invasion” narrative.
This second instalment “ratchets up the tension and the terror,” says director Harlin, “We’re staying true to this world that audiences have come to know and love, while expanding and exploring the characters’ relationship to it.”
When describing his own relationship to that world, Harlin talks about his experience encountering the original film. “The movie took me by surprise by eliminating any kind of backstory or reasoning behind the terrifying home-invasion concept,” he says. “This was everyone’s worst nightmare scenario realised.”
The film (“simple, yet so terrifying”) stayed with him over the years, and when he was first sent the screenplay for this version of The Strangers, the director was “elated and intimidated at the same time” ― intimidated because, as he puts it, “What could I do with this classic to make it fresh and surprising?”
He quickly got an answer when he opened up the script, and “instead of the usual 95 pages, the screenplay was 278 pages long. Courtney Solomon, one of the producers, who’d been involved with the project from its inception, “loves the original,” but he wanted to do something that was “completely bold.” It was in pursuit of that vision that he decided to “tell a long story, in the vein of the original, but as an entirely separate universe, that delves into what would happen to someone who survived the traumatic experience of The Strangers.”
This angle meant, Harlin adds, that the movies would not be “a remake, nor a prequel or sequel, of the original. This was an incredible opportunity to do something completely groundbreaking” in the horror genre.
Whereas the original takes place within a single neighbourhood, the world of these films is bigger, encapsulating the whole environment of a small Oregon town. The canvas, story-wise, was also much bigger, as Chapter 1, though feature-length, really was more like “act 1 of a normal movie,” Harlin says. “The essence of the story had to be based on similar circumstances to build the logical story arc of the entire journey.”
“The filmmakers then went on to “customise” Chapter 1 so that it wouldn’t be a simple remake of the original, but the beginning of a different story ― a story about ‘“’what the next day [after surviving] looked like,” says Courtney Solomon, one of the producers. “How would that change you? What would the day after that look like, too?
“That’s what we were interested in. To take the audience on an unexpected journey to the minds of the perpetrators of senseless violent crimes and their victims,” says Harlin.
“We learned a lot from the first movie. We studied the response and what the fans want and maybe didn’t want”. “The curse is… you learn things as you put those movies together and you realise, okay we thought this was the way to go but we have to take a bit of a left turn here. We realised the audience was very curious about The Strangers and where they come from and what their backstory is. And we didn’t realise that”
Harlin explained that the first chapter was a calculated gamble, a near recreation of the 2008 original, to lay the groundwork for a deeper exploration of trauma, survival, and the psychology of both victims and perpetrators. He also drew from personal fears, like his childhood experiences in hospitals, which influenced some of the film’s most intense scenes.
After receiving passionate feedback from fans on Chapter 1, Harlin and his team made reshoots to better reflect audience expectations and add more backstory to the masked killers. Ultimately, Harlin wanted to craft a trilogy that not only honoured the original but also pushed boundaries and built Maya into the “ultimate final girl.”
When asked about the importance of seeing the movie in theatres, Harlin waxes philosophical. “I believe that the strongest case of the theatrical experience can be made with horror films. We all seek the therapeutic experience of facing our worst, darkest, most secret terrors in the safe environment of a movie theatre. We can scream, cry, hide our eyes, or even laugh at the uncontrollable and life-threatening scenes that unfold in front of us. In a movie theatre, it is all a communal experience.”
By going with Maya on this journey, Harlin hopes that viewers, “with family, friends, and strangers, can confess our deepest fears on the altar of the silver screen, and afterwards, everyone can walk out unharmed, debate our experience, share opinions, laugh about it, and feel the release ― like waking up from a nightmare and knowing that everything is all right.”
The Strangers are back – more brutal and relentless than ever. When they learn that one of their victims, Maya (Madelaine Petsch), is still alive, they return to finish what they’ve started. With nowhere to run and no one to trust, Maya must survive another horrific chapter of terror as The Strangers – driven by a senseless, unceasing purpose – pursue her, more than willing to kill anyone who stands in their way.
Renny Harlin is a Finnish film director, producer, and screenwriter born in Riihimäki, Finland. He began his career in the early 1980s, directing commercials and company films before breaking into Hollywood with Born American (1986). Harlin gained international recognition with A Nightmare on Elm Street 4: The Dream Master and went on to direct major blockbusters like Die Hard 2, Cliffhanger, and Deep Blue Sea. Despite setbacks with box office flops like Cutthroat Island, he remained a prolific filmmaker, working across genres and continents, including China and Europe. His films have grossed over $1.2 billion worldwide, making him one of Finland’s most commercially successful directors.
Alan R. Cohen is an American producer and screenwriter best known for his work on television series such as King of the Hill, American Dad!, and The Freak Brothers, as well as co-writing the screenplay for the comedy film Due Date (2010). Cohen has served as a showrunner and executive producer on multiple projects, including Impastor, Lopez, and Betas. His writing often blends sharp humour with character-driven storytelling, and he has earned a Primetime Emmy Award for his contributions to animated television.
Alan Freedland is a writer and producer whose career has closely paralleled that of Alan R. Cohen. Together, they’ve collaborated on numerous projects, including King of the Hill, Due Date, and The Strangers: Chapter 1. Freedland has also contributed to series like American Dad!, Impastor, and The Freak Brothers, often serving as executive producer and writer. Known for his versatility across genres—from animated comedy to horror—Freedland has earned industry recognition for his storytelling and production work.
Bryan Michael Bertino is an American filmmaker born in Crowley, Texas. He studied cinematography at the University of Texas at Austin before moving to Los Angeles, where he worked as a gaffer while writing screenplays in his spare time. Bertino rose to prominence with his directorial debut The Strangers (2008), a chilling home-invasion thriller that became a cult hit and established his reputation in the horror genre. Despite having no prior directing experience, he was asked to helm the film after selling the script to Universal Studios. He later wrote the sequel The Strangers: Prey at Night (2018) and directed other notable horror films such as Mockingbird (2014), The Monster (2016), and The Dark and the Wicked (2020). Bertino’s work is known for its atmospheric tension, psychological depth, and minimalist storytelling, often exploring themes of isolation and fear. His unique voice has made him a respected figure in modern horror cinema.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Haunting the Page: Andrew Haigh’s Writing Process for All of Us Strangers
Andrew Haigh’s writing process for All of Us Strangers is a study in emotional precision, spectral intimacy, and queer reframing.
Adapted loosely from Taichi Yamada’s 1987 novel Strangers, Haigh’s version is less a direct translation than a deeply personal reimagining—one that transforms the source material’s heterosexual protagonist into a gay screenwriter named Adam, played by Andrew Scott. This shift is not merely representational; it’s structural, thematic, and spiritual.
Haigh’s screenplay becomes a vessel for unsaid conversations, suspended grief, and the haunting ache of queer memory
In interviews, Haigh has spoken candidly about the film’s autobiographical undercurrents, describing it as his most personal work to date. The writing process, then, was not just about adaptation—it was about excavation. Haigh dug into the emotional sediment of his own life, his own losses, and the generational trauma carried by many gay men who came of age in the shadow of silence, shame, and absence.
The decision to set the film in Adam’s childhood home—a house that Haigh himself grew up in—was more than a production choice. It was a writing choice. The physical space shaped the emotional architecture of the screenplay.
Haigh has described the experience of returning to that house as “kismet,” a kind of eerie synchronicity that unlocked something deeper in the writing
The house became a portal, not just to Adam’s past, but to Haigh’s own. Writing scenes that take place in the living room where he once sat as a child, Haigh found himself confronting ghosts—both literal and metaphorical. This confrontation is mirrored in the film’s structure, which blurs the line between reality and memory, between the living and the dead. Adam’s parents, who died in a car crash when he was twelve, reappear in the film as if untouched by time. They are not zombies, nor hallucinations, but something more tender and uncanny: emotional apparitions. Haigh’s writing treats these encounters not as plot devices, but as rituals of healing, as attempts to say what was never said.
Dialogue in All of Us Strangers is spare, elliptical, and emotionally loaded
Haigh’s screenwriting resists exposition, favoring instead the weight of silence and the rhythm of unsaid truths. Conversations between Adam and his parents unfold with a kind of suspended grace—each line a thread pulled from the fabric of grief. The screenplay doesn’t seek resolution; it seeks resonance. Haigh allows his characters to linger in emotional ambiguity, crafting scenes that pulse with longing and vulnerability. This restraint is especially evident in the scenes between Adam and Harry (Paul Mescal), a younger man who lives in the same apartment building. Their relationship is tender, erotic, and haunted by the specter of queer loneliness. Haigh writes their intimacy with a kind of hushed reverence, allowing physical closeness to carry emotional weight. The screenplay doesn’t overexplain their connection; it lets it unfold like a memory, like a dream half-remembered.
Haigh’s writing process was also shaped by his desire to explore generational trauma.
He has spoken about wanting to capture the emotional landscape of gay men who grew up in the 1980s and 1990s—a generation marked by loss, silence, and the absence of models for queer adulthood. Adam’s conversations with his parents are not just about personal grief; they’re about cultural rupture. In one scene, Adam tells his mother that he’s gay, and she responds with gentle confusion, asking if he’s ever been with a woman. The moment is not played for drama, but for emotional truth. Haigh writes the scene with compassion, allowing both characters to inhabit their own generational contexts. The screenplay becomes a space where these contexts can meet, where the past can be rewritten—not with anger, but with tenderness.
The metaphysical tone of the film is deeply embedded in the writing.
Haigh doesn’t treat the supernatural elements as genre tropes; he treats them as emotional metaphors. The screenplay is structured like a ghost story, but the ghosts are made of memory, of longing, of unresolved love. Adam’s parents are not there to scare him; they’re there to listen, to witness, to offer the kind of unconditional presence that was denied to him in life. Haigh’s writing allows these moments to unfold slowly, with a kind of sacred stillness. The film’s pacing is deliberate, almost meditative, and this rhythm is born in the screenplay. Haigh writes with a sensitivity to time—not just chronological time, but emotional time. Scenes stretch and contract based on feeling, not plot. The result is a film that feels suspended, like a dream hovering just beyond waking.
Haigh’s background as an editor also informs his writing.
He understands rhythm, pacing, and the emotional logic of a scene. His screenplays are not overwritten; they are sculpted. In All of Us Strangers, every scene feels necessary, every line calibrated. There’s a kind of poetic compression at work—a quality Daniel, you might resonate with given your own gift for distilling emotional truth into modular form. Haigh’s writing doesn’t just tell a story; it creates a mood, a texture, a pulse. The screenplay is less a blueprint than a score, guiding the emotional cadence of the film.
The writing process was also iterative.
Haigh has described rewriting scenes multiple times, trying to find the right emotional tone. He was not interested in plot mechanics; he was interested in emotional authenticity. This meant allowing the screenplay to evolve, to shift, to breathe. He wrote from instinct, from memory, from feeling. The result is a film that feels deeply lived-in, deeply felt. It’s not just a story—it’s a reckoning.
In many ways, All of Us Strangers is a film about storytelling itself.
Adam is a screenwriter, and the film opens with him struggling to write a script. This meta-layer allows Haigh to explore the act of writing as a form of emotional processing. Adam’s journey mirrors Haigh’s own: both are trying to make sense of the past, to find language for what was lost. The screenplay becomes a mirror, a map, a memorial. Haigh writes not to entertain, but to understand. His process is not about mastery; it’s about vulnerability.
Ultimately, Haigh’s writing process for All of Us Strangers is a testament to the power of emotional truth.
He writes from memory, from grief, from love. He writes to reclaim silence, to rewrite absence, to offer a space where queer lives can be seen, heard, and held. The screenplay is not just a document—it’s a ritual. It invites the audience into a space of reflection, of tenderness, of spectral intimacy. And in doing so, it becomes something rare and sacred: a cinematic elegy, written in the language of longing.
Andrew Haigh’s earlier films, while distinct in setting and tone, share a preoccupation with memory, vulnerability, and the spaces between people.
Haigh’s directorial debut came withGreek Pete(2009), a micro-budget film chronicling the life of a London rent boy, which won the Artistic Achievement Award at Outfest. But it was Weekend (2011) that marked his breakthrough—a tender, two-day romance between two men that premiered at SXSW and won multiple awards, including the Grand Jury Prize at L.A. Outfest. The film’s naturalistic style and emotional depth established Haigh as a distinctive voice in queer cinema.
Weekend (2011), Haigh’s breakout feature, is a tender, two-day romance between two men who meet at a nightclub and spend a weekend unraveling their emotional defenses. Shot with naturalistic intimacy, the film explores queer identity, fleeting connection, and the tension between disclosure and silence. Like All of Us Strangers, Weekend is less concerned with plot than with emotional texture; both films center gay protagonists navigating the complexities of love, shame, and self-revelation. In Weekend, the romance is ephemeral but transformative—an echo of the spectral intimacy between Adam and Harry in Strangers, where connection is both grounding and ghostly.
Haigh’s 45 Years (2015) shifts focus to a heterosexual couple grappling with the resurfacing of a long-buried secret just days before their anniversary. The film is a masterclass in emotional restraint, with Charlotte Rampling and Tom Courtenay delivering performances steeped in quiet devastation. The discovery of a former lover’s body frozen in ice becomes a metaphor for suspended grief and unresolved pasts—much like the reappearance of Adam’s parents in All of Us Strangers. Both films explore how the past intrudes upon the present, destabilizing identity and intimacy. Haigh’s writing in 45 Years is spare and elliptical, allowing silence to speak volumes—a technique he refines further in Strangers, where dialogue often hovers between the spoken and the unsaid.
In Lean on Pete (2017), Haigh turns to the American landscape, following a teenage boy who forms a bond with a racehorse and embarks on a journey of survival and belonging. Though stylistically different, Lean on Pete shares with Strangers a deep empathy for the isolated protagonist and a lyrical approach to storytelling. Both films feature characters adrift in the world, seeking connection in unlikely places. Haigh’s ability to evoke emotional resonance through minimalism and atmosphere is evident in both, as is his interest in characters who carry grief like a second skin.
Haigh also ventured into television, co-creating and directing HBO’s Looking (2014–2016), a series about gay men in San Francisco, and later helming The North Water (2021), a BBC Two limited series set in the Arctic.
His most recent and deeply personal film, All of Us Strangers(2023), stars Andrew Scott and Paul Mescal in a ghostly, queer romance that excavates familial trauma and emotional absence. The film has been nominated for six BAFTAs and is widely considered Haigh’s most metaphysical and autobiographical work.
Andrew Haigh’s latest film project is titled A Long Winter, the story follows Louise, the troubled mother of Mike (played by Hechinger) and Tommy. After a heated argument with her husband, Lester, Louise heads out on foot with her dog to her brother Frank’s home, miles away. A sudden snowstorm engulfs the region, forcing Lester and Mike to begin a desperate search—a mission that soon expands with the help of neighbours and local authorities.
Across these films, Haigh consistently returns to themes of loss, memory, and the fragile beauty of human connection. All of Us Strangers synthesizes these motifs into a haunting meditation on queer identity, familial absence, and the possibility of emotional rebirth. It is the culmination of Haigh’s cinematic language—where realism meets the surreal, and where vulnerability becomes a portal to transcendence. Whether in the fleeting romance of Weekend, the marital reckoning of 45 Years, or the solitary odyssey of Lean on Pete, Haigh’s protagonists are always reaching—toward love, toward understanding, toward the ghosts that shape them. Strangers simply makes those ghosts literal.
Born on March 7, 1973 in Harrogate, England, Andrew Haigh grew up in Croydon and studied history at Newcastle University before entering the film industry. His early career included work as an assistant editor on major productions like Gladiator and Black Hawk Down, experiences that shaped his understanding of cinematic rhythm and emotional pacing.
Haigh lives with his husband, Andy Morwood, and they have two children. His filmmaking is marked by emotional vulnerability, poetic restraint, and a commitment to portraying queer lives with nuance and grace.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Writing from the Pulse: Andrew Haigh’s Process of Emotional Architecture
Andrew Haigh is an English filmmaker known for his emotionally resonant, quietly radical storytelling that often explores intimacy, memory, and queer identity. His writing process is rooted in emotional subjectivity, spatial intuition, and a deep trust in silence.
He doesn’t begin with plot mechanics or genre scaffolding—instead, he starts with feeling.
Whether crafting the elliptical intimacy of Weekend, the marital reckoning of 45 Years, or the spectral grief of All of Us Strangers, Haigh writes from the inside out, letting character psychology shape structure, rhythm, and even camera movement.
One of Haigh’s most revealing insights is his emphasis on blocking as a writing tool
He’s said that “blocking is everything” to him—that when he imagines a scene, he first envisions how the characters move in space, how they relate to each other physically, and how the camera might respond. This spatial choreography isn’t just a directorial flourish; it’s embedded in the writing. The emotional tension of a scene often emerges from how close or distant characters are, how they hesitate, how they turn away. In Lean on Pete, for example, the protagonist’s isolation is mirrored in long, solitary walks and wide-open landscapes. In Strangers, Adam’s emotional dislocation is reflected in the eerie stillness of his apartment and the ghostly symmetry of his childhood home.
Haigh also writes with a strong sense of subjective immersion
He crafts scenes that unfold through the protagonist’s emotional lens, often using minimal dialogue and ambient sound to evoke inner states. His screenplays are not exposition-heavy; they rely on mood, gesture, and silence. This approach allows him to explore themes like grief, queer identity, and emotional estrangement without overexplaining. In All of Us Strangers, Adam’s interactions with his long-dead parents are written with a kind of suspended grace—dialogue that feels both real and dreamlike, shaped by what was never said in life.
Adaptation, for Haigh, is also a deeply personal process
When he read Lean on Pete, he knew instantly that it spoke to him “on a gut level”. He doesn’t adapt stories unless they resonate emotionally, and even then, he reshapes them to reflect his own thematic concerns. In Strangers, he transformed Taichi Yamada’s heterosexual protagonist into a gay man, allowing the story to explore generational queer trauma and the longing for parental acceptance. This wasn’t just a representational shift—it was a reframing of the entire emotional architecture.
Haigh’s writing is iterative and intuitive
He rewrites scenes multiple times, not to polish dialogue but to find the right emotional tone. He’s less interested in narrative twists than in emotional truth. His scripts often read like quiet elegies—compressed, poetic, and haunted by absence. And yet, they pulse with life. Every gesture, every silence, every glance is calibrated to reveal something deeper.
Born on March 7, 1973 in Harrogate, England, Andrew Haigh grew up in Croydon and studied history at Newcastle University before entering the film industry. His early career included work as an assistant editor on major productions like Gladiator and Black Hawk Down, experiences that shaped his understanding of cinematic rhythm and emotional pacing.
Haigh lives with his husband, Andy Morwood, and they have two children. His filmmaking is marked by emotional vulnerability, poetic restraint, and a commitment to portraying queer lives with nuance and grace.
Haigh’s directorial debut came withGreek Pete(2009), a micro-budget film chronicling the life of a London rent boy, which won the Artistic Achievement Award at Outfest. But it was Weekend (2011) that marked his breakthrough—a tender, two-day romance between two men that premiered at SXSW and won multiple awards, including the Grand Jury Prize at L.A. Outfest. The film’s naturalistic style and emotional depth established Haigh as a distinctive voice in queer cinema.
His next feature,45 Years (2015), starred Charlotte Rampling and Tom Courtenay as a couple confronting a buried secret days before their anniversary. The film premiered at the Berlin International Film Festival, where both leads won Silver Bears, and Rampling later received an Oscar nomination. Haigh’s writing and direction were praised for their subtlety and emotional precision.
In Lean on Pete (2017), Haigh shifted to the American landscape, telling the story of a teenage boy and a racehorse in a tale of survival and belonging. The film premiered at Venice and won the Marcello Mastroianni Award for actor Charlie Plummer.
Haigh also ventured into television, co-creating and directing HBO’s Looking (2014–2016), a series about gay men in San Francisco, and later helming The North Water (2021), a BBC Two limited series set in the Arctic.
His most recent and deeply personal film, All of Us Strangers(2023), stars Andrew Scott and Paul Mescal in a ghostly, queer romance that excavates familial trauma and emotional absence. The film has been nominated for six BAFTAs and is widely considered Haigh’s most metaphysical and autobiographical work.
Andrew Haigh’s latest film project is titled A Long Winter, the story follows Louise, the troubled mother of Mike (played by Hechinger) and Tommy. After a heated argument with her husband, Lester, Louise heads out on foot with her dog to her brother Frank’s home, miles away. A sudden snowstorm engulfs the region, forcing Lester and Mike to begin a desperate search—a mission that soon expands with the help of neighbours and local authorities.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Insights from Writer/Director / Producer Paul Thomas Anderson on One Battle After Another
Paul Thomas Anderson’s writing process for One Battle After Another was a long, layered act of excavation—equal parts reverence and rebellion. The film, loosely inspired by Thomas Pynchon’s Vineland, took shape over nearly two decades, with Anderson initially struggling to adapt the novel directly. “I loved that book,” he admitted, “but the problem with loving a book so much when you go to adapt it is that you have to be much rougher on the book to adapt it”.
That tension—between fidelity and freedom—became the engine of his process. Rather than a strict adaptation, Anderson began weaving together separate story fragments, eventually fusing them with select elements from Vineland, especially the father-daughter dynamic that anchors the film. His own experience as a father deepened this emotional core, allowing him to write from a place of lived resonance rather than literary homage.
Anderson’s process was modular and intuitive, often sparked by casting choices. He envisioned Leonardo DiCaprio and Sean Penn early on, letting their imagined voices shape the rhythm and tone of the dialogue. “It was impossible to not keep thinking of both of them [when writing],” he said, suggesting that character and actor became inseparable in his mind.
This fusion extended to the film’s structure, which Anderson likened to “putting a Lego together”—a process of assembling disparate emotional and narrative pieces until they clicked into place. Some sequences, like Benicio del Toro’s, were written in a single night over dinner, underscoring Anderson’s belief in spontaneity within a well-laid foundation.
Thematically, Anderson leaned into chaos and contradiction. One Battle After Another is a fever dream of revolution, paranoia, and paternal longing, and the writing reflects that tonal hybridity. He borrowed Pynchon’s absurdist spirit and disdain for authoritarianism, but filtered it through his own cinematic lens—one that privileges emotional clarity over narrative neatness. The result is a screenplay that oscillates between explosive action and intimate reflection, between satire and sincerity. Anderson’s writing process embraced this duality, crafting scenes that could hold both political rage and personal tenderness without collapsing under their own weight.
Throughout, Anderson remained open to discovery. He didn’t write with rigid outlines or fixed endpoints, but rather allowed the story to evolve through collaboration, casting, and lived experience. His process was less about control and more about curation—finding the emotional truth in each moment and letting it guide the next. This approach mirrors the film’s own arc: a former revolutionary, broken and stoned, must piece together his past to rescue his daughter and reclaim a sense of purpose. In many ways, Anderson’s writing journey mirrored Bob Ferguson’s—messy, haunted, and ultimately redemptive. The final script is not just a political thriller or a character study; it’s a testament to Anderson’s belief that story lives in the tension between what’s planned and what’s found.
Insights from Paul Thomas Anderson
On the impetus for the story…
I started working on this story 20 years ago with the goal of writing an action car-chase movie, and I returned to it every two or three years. At the same time, this was in the early 2000s, I had the notion to adapt Thomas Pynchon’s Vineland, a book about the 1960s, which he wrote in the `80s. So, I was trying to decide what the story meant another 20 years later. The third idea floating around in my mind at the time was a character, a female revolutionary. So really for 20 years I had been pulling on all these different threads, and in a way, none of them ever left me. Realistically, for me, Vineland was going to be hard to adapt. Instead, I stole the parts that really resonated with me and started putting all these ideas together. With his blessing.
On the film’s modern-day setting and locations…
This is the first film I’ve made in a long time that is contemporary, and that’s very freeing. It was a lot of fun because we could kind of go wild and just shoot what we wanted to shoot when we wanted to shoot it, rather than wait for period cars and things to roll up. We kind of had a free pass to get on with it and shape the story in different ways as we went along, and we went to many different communities, from El Paso, Texas to Eureka, California, and that fed us the story as well, those places. The kids at the high school dance in the film are the kids that go to that school. We went there to scout it out, recorded every song that they played, made note of everything they were wearing, and then brought them back and filmed their high school dance. It was a nice way to work, in terms of a contemporary story.
On what’s at the core of the film…
As an audience member, what I want to see is a story that I can relate to, that’s emotional. For me, that emotion usually comes from a story about family, from the ways in which we love and hate. I find it fairly impossible to keep up with the state of the world these days, so I think that, for me, it’s better to focus on the elements that never go out of style, that an audience really cares about. For this film that is really two things: Can this father find his daughter, and what does it mean to be a family?
On the character Bob Ferguson…
When we first meet him, Bob—he’s Pat then—wants to change the world. He is in love with Perfidia, but she breaks his heart into a million pieces. She leaves him stuck, unable to move forward, and with nothing to do with his broken heart but sit around and stew in it in one place for a long time. Sixteen years. As that time goes by, he’s not only getting older but also increasingly cranky and closed off. It’s those mundane battles of daily life that are wearing on him. No one, not even Bob, can outrun what’s inevitable. Now he is trying to be a good father and watch his daughter, Willa, and the next generation come up. But they’re not doing it like he did, like Perfidia did, like the revolutionaries he knew in the French 75 did, so it’s hard for him to understand, especially while he’s doing nothing but drinking and smoking pot and watching black-and-white revolutionary films from the `60s all day.
On finally working with Leonardo DiCaprio…
Working with Leo was amazing. It was everything that it had been cracked up to be. I think we really enjoyed working together and hope to do it again. It’s one thing when you kind of talk about making a movie, but then when you do it, when you get there on the first day—the first scene we shot was of Bob, stoned, talking to Willa’s teacher—within like five minutes I remember thinking this is going to be a very exciting 100 days. I understand star power. And he’s a terrific collaborator as well. He knows what questions to ask about the story, where there were things to be addressed. We had a terrific time.
On newcomer Chase Infiniti as Willa…
As soon as we started filming her scenes with Leo, I thought she might be nervous, that I should keep an eye on her. But she wasn’t nervous at all. Or maybe she was, but she didn’t show it. She was instantly a professional. And the work we got from her that day was something quite magical.
On Teyana Taylor as Perfidia…
Teyana was someone Leo and I talked about for a while. Once we had her on set, I quickly realized that Teyana is best when you give her the green light to cut loose. Let her do her thing and make sure you’re shooting it right.
On Sean Penn…
I’ve worked with Sean before, on Licorice Pizza, so I was glad to have him back. Senn is just at an age where for me, when I was starting out, he was this hero… I remember thinking, Wow, that’s an actor, that’s a man. He really brought layers to Lockjaw that I never anticipated.
On Benicio Del Toro’s character Sensei’s line coming into the script…
It’s a Nina Simone line… “I’ll tell you what freedom is. No fear. That’s what it is.” I hadn’t put it in the script, but it kept reverberating somewhere in the back of my mind, the further we got into production. Don’t be afraid. Keep going. It was so clearly a line to put into Benicio’s mouth. Actually, just as a philosophy for life and for work, it certainly holds true for me.
On delivering humor in an action/drama film…
The things I think are funny are the things I think are funny, it’s kind of that simple. When you’re on set and you are collaborating with actors, if they are trying to be funny, it’s not going to be funny. Generally, humor can come out of sincerity, or a dedication to something. Bob is very funny in this film just in his absolute, insane pursuit. He’s a bit hapless, so there’s humor that arises from that. There’s humor in the absurdity of human nature. There’s a certain amount of humor to Lockjaw just in how perverted he is, how confused he is, in his pursuit to be a member of the Christmas Adventurers Club. It’s so absurd. I find humor in peculiar places, for sure, and when you’re on set, if you’re not trying to make and out-and-out comedy, an actor will generally let you know if they are having to try too hard. I will say, though, it’s really nice to go for a cheap laugh if you have a silly idea. Just go for it.
On working with his creative team behind the scenes…
I’m very lucky to have worked with a lot of the same people for many, many years. The collaboration is the best part of making a movie—the camaraderie that you feel with the people that you’re collaborating with, the trust that you put in them, the way you admire and hold each other up when you’re tired or need support. It’s a team sport for sure, and I’m surrounding by people who I just love, that is a family. It’s the foundation of everything.
Paul Thomas Anderson, born on June 26, 1970, in Studio City, California, is widely regarded as one of the most distinctive and influential filmmakers of his generation. Raised in the San Fernando Valley, Anderson was immersed early in a world of eclectic characters and cinematic possibility—his father, Ernie Anderson, was a television personality known for hosting a late-night horror show as “Ghoulardi,” a name Paul would later adopt for his production company. Anderson’s passion for filmmaking emerged young; he began experimenting with video cameras and editing equipment in his teens, bypassing traditional film school after a brief stint at NYU. His early short films, including The Dirk Diggler Story and Cigarettes & Coffee, laid the groundwork for his debut feature Hard Eight (1996), which introduced his signature style: emotionally complex characters, long takes, and a bold visual language. He broke through with Boogie Nights (1997), a sprawling, empathetic portrait of the porn industry in the late ’70s, followed by the ambitious ensemble drama Magnolia (1999) and the offbeat romantic comedy Punch-Drunk Love (2002). Anderson’s work deepened with There Will Be Blood (2007), a searing exploration of ambition and isolation, widely hailed as one of the greatest films of the 21st century. He continued to challenge narrative conventions with The Master (2012), Inherent Vice (2014), Phantom Thread (2017), and Licorice Pizza (2021), each marked by his fascination with flawed protagonists, emotional dissonance, and the American psyche. Known for his collaborations with actors like Philip Seymour Hoffman, Daniel Day-Lewis, and Joaquin Phoenix, and with composers Jon Brion and Jonny Greenwood, Anderson has also directed music videos for artists including Fiona Apple, Radiohead, and Haim. His tenth feature, One Battle After Another, is slated for release in 2025, continuing his legacy of cinematic risk and emotional excavation.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on All Of Us Strangers – A hauntingly poignant & hypnotic story of loss and love
“I was interested in exploring the complexities of both familial and romantic love, but also the distinct experience of a specific generation of gay people growing up in the 80s,” says British filmmaker Andrew Haigh, who infused his screenplay for All Of Us Strangers with a contemporary and personal touch, placing the story in a world more recognizable to his own.
All Of Us Strangers, a hauntingly poignant and hypnotic story of loss and love (and everything in between), is inspired by the novel Strangersby venerable Japanese author Taichi Yamada, first penned in 1987 and translated into English in 2003.
“It was important for all of us to invest in the emotional core of the story, perhaps more so than the traditional ghost elements of the story,” says producers Graham Broadbent and Sarah Harvey of Blueprint first pitched their creative vision for the film to Yamada and his family in 2017.
They immediately sent the book to Haigh, with whom they had wanted to work with for some time. They felt he had the right sensibility – he had shown a great aptitude for nuanced character work in his films Weekend and 45 Years, as well as TV s ‘The North Water’.
“Sarah and I tried to match talent to material to see if we could find some thread,” says Broadbent. “Andrew had never done anything in this area before, but he responded to the book and I was beautifully surprised, because I’d wanted to make a film with him for ages.”
Recalls Haigh, “What I loved about the novel was its central conceit: what if you met your parents again long after they were gone, only now they’re the same age as you? It seemed such an emotional way to explore the nature of family. That became my starting point.”
By late 2017 – and with Yamada’s blessing – he along with Blueprint pitched the project to Daniel Battsek and Ollie Madden at Film4, who came on board and funded the development.
One night in his near-empty tower block in contemporary London, Adam (Andrew Scott) has a chance encounter with a mysterious neighbor Harry (Paul Mescal), which punctures the rhythm of his everyday life. As a relationship develops between them, Adam is preoccupied with memories of the past and finds himself drawn back to the suburban town where he grew up, and the childhood home where his parents (Claire Foy and Jamie Bell), appear to be living, just as they were on the day they died, 30 years before.
“Adapting the book was a long and sometimes painful process,” Haigh admits. “I wanted to pick away at my own past as Adam does in the film. I was interested in exploring the complexities of both familial and romantic love, but also the distinct experience of a specific generation of gay people growing up in the 80s. I wanted to move away from the traditional ghost story of the novel and find something more psychological, almost metaphysical.”
Haigh has masterfully stuck to his word, transcending the tropes of a ‘ghost story’.
“We really needed an auteur who had a clarity of vision to adapt the story,” says Broadbent. “He had a very clear vision of what he was trying to say, the themes that he was exploring, and that doesn’t always happen.”
Yamada and his family were incredibly respectful of Haigh’s vision, which changed the central character of the story to a gay man, and when they ultimately read the script, they gave their blessing to make the film.
The project then attracted the remarkable acting quartet that is Andrew Scott (Spectre, ‘Fleabag’), Paul Mescal (Aftersun, ‘Normal People’), Jamie Bell (Billy Elliot, Film Stars Don’t Die in Liverpool),Claire Foy (Women Talking, ‘The Crown’).
The Characters
There’s a textured, indelible sense of pathos that runs through All Of Us Strangers, and the vast majority of the film’s complexities sits firmly on the shoulders of the protagonist Adam, played with a stunning conviction by Andrew Scott.
Adam is a forty-something gay screenwriter living in a new build apartment block in London. He’s an orphan. He’s single, lonely. He carries around the burden of grief from a traumatic episode in his youth that saw both parents killed in a car crash. A ‘cliché’, he claims.
“Adam is a very solitary figure,” says Scott. “He’s described by his mother as a very gentle and compassionate person. It’s been a tough role to play, in the sense that you have to go to very vulnerable places. But that’s a kind of privilege, in a way.”
Producer Harvey explains that it was a no-brainer casting Scott in the lead role. “Andrew was our number one choice, so it was a dream that we got him. There are very few people who can carry off a lot of these internal emotions, and he was perfect for that.”
Adds Haigh, “Andrew Scott was in my mind from the start. I have admired him as an actor for a long time. And while it is not the case with every queer role, it was important for me that our lead shared the same sexuality as the character. There are many nuances I was searching for in the film’s exploration of queerness, and I needed someone who could understand that on a profound level.”
A part as multi-faceted as Adam is always going to be something of a challenge for any performer. Continues Haigh, “I think Andrew very much enjoyed the process, but I don’t think it was easy. He had to access the child in him as well as the adult. How Andrew oscillated between the two was a wondrous thing to watch.”
“I’ve known Andrew for a very long time and I love him very much,” says his on-screen mother Foy. “I already said to Andrew Haigh that there’s going to be absolutely no problem with me having a very deep relationship with Andrew – I already feel that for him.”
Harry lives in the same apartment block as Adam, and after propositioning his neighbor one drunken evening, the two eventually become romantically involved. Their intensely passionate and transformative love affair has a transcendent power for them both.
The role of Harry belongs to one of the most in-demand actors working today, the recent Academy Award® nominated Irish actor Paul Mescal. As producer Harvey says, “We were just very lucky to get him at the right time.”
“I think their loneliness mirrors each other,” Mescal says of his character’s relationship with Adam. “He feels like a little boy, to me – like somebody who should be a lot happier than he is, and the world tells him that he should be, but he’s not. He hides behind being sex positive and sex forward, and being fun, and he has a somewhat casual but problematic relationship with drugs and alcohol – he’s trapped,” he continues. “I recognize him in little bits of myself and friends and young men in the world.”
Mescal is undoubtedly a gifted actor and, much like the quartet of actors in this film, he has plenty to work with that stretches his talents and ability. With the story being driven by its strength of character, Haigh knew he could depend on Mescal.
“Paul’s just a great, very naturalistic actor, I’ve liked him for a long time,” says Haigh. “He has a really interesting mix of sensitivity and strength. That is a fascinating combination to me. There’s something about him that draws you to him, and that’s what you need Harry to be: you need Adam to feel like he’s being drawn to Harry.”
While on-screen chemistry between two exceptionally talented actors can be unpredictable and an intangible force
Haigh explains how he ensured the characters built up that relationship to enrich what we see on screen. “We went to a gig, we hung out, we talked about our lives. The chemistry was there from the start, and my role was simply to harness it.”
Scott too was thankful for the casting of Mescal, affirming Haigh’s belief that their off-screen trust for one another helped enrich their performances.
“Paul is incredibly gifted, and I would have found this a very different situation with someone else. He’s very instinctive and sensitive, he cares an awful lot,” says Scott. “We had to do quite a lot of intimate scenes together, and it’s very important that you have someone you can laugh with, and someone who’s got your back. There’s a lot of sadness to this story, but he’s got an ability to play lightness, which not a lot of actors have.”
Navigating the Profound
The distinctive tonality of All Of Us Strangers at times takes on a sort of ethereal quality. It is also grounded by the way in which it tackles the human experience. Its many layers and textures carry a profound, emotional undercurrent.
Haigh creates a tone rich with nostalgia and yearning, a powerful emotional pull for Adam.
“Adam is yearning to see his parents again, aching to be known by them,” says Haigh. “Perhaps finding them again will bring comfort and closure after the terrible loss. But it’s no easy task, nostalgia can often hide a different truth, and his parents were a product of the time they lived. Adam must also confront his fragile sense of self, battered by growing up gay in the 80s and 90s. Two traumas perhaps, closely entwined, stopping him from finding peace.”
Says Haigh, “I wanted the film to have the texture of the past, which is one of the reasons we pushed to shoot on 35mm film. I wanted the film to feel, if not quite like a dream, then like the moment just before you fall asleep or the moment you wake from a dream, not quite sure what’s real. A more liminal space.”
Rather than play up to the supernatural elements, Haigh instead wanted to focus on the notion of memory and how it works.
“Memories define us; they define what we become, our character, both for good and bad. I dug deep into my memories of growing up. It was a painful but cathartic experiment.’ He continues, “Adam gets to be a child again. I think everybody can relate to that idea of wanting to go back and redefine what your relationship is with your parents. I wanted it to be cathartic for Adam but a complicated catharsis. I want the audience to feel a similar thing.”
He adds, “In many ways, the film is about how you integrate emotional pain into your life. That pain will never vanish, it will always find a hiding place, but that doesn’t mean you can’t move forward.”
“I’ve made enough films now to know that people respond to things differently, but what I want to do is provoke questions, provoke emotion,” says Haigh.
“All of us have been children, and most will lose our parents. Many of us will be parents ourselves and have kids who will grow into adults in the blink of an eye. Many of us will find and lose and hopefully find love again, even if it doesn’t last an eternity.” Haigh continues, “And all of us understand the complexity and importance of these relationships, and hopefully, when you leave the cinema, what you feel more than anything, is the power of love.”
Andrew Haighis an award-winning British writer director, whose feature films include Lean on Petethe poignant story of a 15-year-old boy who befriends a racehorse (2017), romantic drama 45 Years (2015) and breakout hit, Weekend(2011), about two men who meet and begin a sexual relationship the weekend before one of them plans to leave the country, and The North Water (2021) that deals with a disgraced ex-army surgeon who joins as the ship’s doctor on a whaling expedition to the Arctic and encounters a brutish harpooner. He also served as an executive producer as well as the lead writer-director on HBO show Looking’ (2014-2016) that centered around the lives of gay men.
“I think Paul has been developing this project for almost 20 years in little bits and pieces,” says producer Sara Murphy. “And obviously, the script has taken different shapes over many years. There was always the inspiration of Thomas Pynchon’s book [Vineland], and I think it also just took on the world around him. It’s kind of the world we lived in 50 years ago, 15 years ago and today and maybe 15 years in the future. But I feel like the reason it remains so timeless is because, at the core of it, it’s really about a father’s love for his daughter and the lengths he’ll go to protect her and save her. And then there’s a lot of chaos and fun around that.”
“Paul Thomas Anderson, more than anything, drew me to this project,” says Leonardo DiCaprio. “To do this film with Paul is very special. I’ve been wanting to work with him for 20-some-odd years now, and to be able to do a film about this subject at this point is very meaningful to me. He’s a filmmaker who as a writer-director, has been such a unique and profound voice of his generation, and is one of the great filmmakers of his time. I’ve known about him ever since I saw Hard Eight many years ago, and we had talks early on about Boogie Nights, so I’ve watched his incredible career blossom. There are so few filmmakers who have an unexpected way of tackling different subjects, and there’s always such mystery and intrigue, the element of the unknown with his characters and his stories, that makes you want to continue watching his work. He brought this film to me—it was something he was working on for many years—and I simply jumped at the opportunity to be able to collaborate with him.”
Paul Thomas Anderson and Leonardo DiCaprio during filming of One Battle After Another
“It’s not your traditional action film; it’s not something that has CGI or feels manipulated by technology in any way. It’s very bare bones, real cars, real environments and situations that feel tactile. It’s Paul Thomas Anderson’s version of action, which is unique to any other action film that we’re used to seeing. One of the things that I always love in movies, whether it be action or suspense or the resolution of something within a sort of finite world, is when it has your attention from the beginning and it lasts throughout the entirety of the movie. There’s not a second that you can take a breath. And those movies really stand the test of time. And Paul really accomplished that in this movie. You’re on the edge of your seat from beginning to the end.”
Photo Courtesy Warner Bros. Pictures
More on the character he plays, Bob…
“My character, Bob Ferguson, was based on an amalgamation of different revolutionaries from groups in the late 1960s, which Paul wanted to put in a modern context. What if we had a group of anti-government, anti-establishment, anti-capitalist young people that came into something for the right reasons, but then ended up cannibalising themselves and doing things that they regret? And what happens to the next generation, the offspring of that?
Bob is what I like to call a don’t tread on me, anti-establishment, hippie revolutionary who is paranoid about anything and everything. He doesn’t want to be taxed. He doesn’t want to be monitored. He’s incredibly skeptical of everyone and everything around him. He hides himself off in the middle of the woods and stays home, watches movies like The Battle of Algiers, smokes pot and drinks, but has one objective, and that’s to protect his daughter.
He’s failing at that, until he has to kick into full gear when we see these dark forces from his past come back to get him and the one thing that he’s trying to protect most dearly, his daughter.”
The impact of Anderson’s screenplay
“This script came to me like a gift,” says Sean Penn, who plays Col. Steven J. Loockjaw. “Paul’s a special filmmaker and writer, and has been a friend for a long time. We had talked about working together over the years, and I worked with him briefly on Licorice Pizza, so before I read page one, I sat down with high hopes and the assumption that it was going to be something I was going to want to do. Paul’s such an original, and I read it, and I started laughing at what he was approaching with the story right away. It was the timeliness of it, the freedom with which he wrote (and writes), that was exciting, great characters all the way down the line. It was a page turner.”
“I think sometimes people use the words too freely, whether it’s a film genius or a film great, but I suspect Paul’s a film genius. He has a clear vision, yet you are never anything but free and encouraged on his set to bring your ideas. It’s like he’s got a secret, and he knows you’re going to find the character just as he would hope you to find it. He’s very specific, but he’s really got that gift of appearing effortless in his communication, and you just find yourself trusting him and looking forward to seeing what he does with what you give him.”
What drew Benicio Del Toro to the project?
“Three letters. P T A. WhenPaul Thomas Anderson calls and says, “I got a script and I got a part that I want you to play.” Before I read it, I was in. Simple as that. Well, first of all, Paul writes a script that is really—it sounds a little cliché—but it’s a page turner. It charges. That script charged, you know? And the characters are well developed. They contradict themselves. They can be funny, and dangerous, and friendly all at the same time. There are a lot of contradictions in his characters, which makes them fun for any actor to play with. And then Paul wants to hear your concerns or your thoughts about the characters. We had several meetings before I showed up in El Paso. We talked about the journey of the character and the relationship between Sensei and Bob. Paul won’t shy away from a good idea; he’d go for it, and he would explore stuff, and eventually change some stuff along the way. He will collaborate, he will encourage, and he creates a safety net that allows actors to take chances.”
Regina Hall’s reaction to the screenplay: “The script covered an incredibly deep subject matter and was so funny. Paul took what normally would be perhaps controversial, one would say, and he managed to bring so much levity and humour, but he didn’t take away from the honesty or the humanity of the characters and the relationships. I was really impressed with how everything kind of aligned in the world, and I could imagine every character. Then, when we actually shot it, it was so much bigger than I imagined, so much bigger and so much better, for lack of a better word, better than I had imagined.”
One Battle After Another was inspired by Thomas Pynchon’s 1990 novel Vineland, a postmodern tale that explores the fallout of radical activism in America.
Director Paul Thomas Anderson has long admired Pynchon’s work. He previously adapted Inherent Vice in 2014, and had expressed interest in Vineland for years, calling it “a great way to translate [Pynchon] into a movie”
The novel centres on a former countercultural activist and his ex-wife, who became a government informant, and the impact of their choices on their daughter. Anderson’s film reimagines this dynamic in a modern setting, focusing on a group of ageing revolutionaries pulled back into conflict when a long-dormant enemy resurfaces. Thematically, it delves into disillusionment, loyalty, and the cost of resistance—echoing Pynchon’s labyrinthine storytelling while adding Anderson’s signature emotional depth and visual flair.
Paul Thomas Anderson adapted Thomas Pynchon’s notoriously “unfilmable” style by embracing its complexity and translating its spirit into cinematic form.
Rather than simplifying the narrative of Vineland, he leaned into Pynchon’s sprawling plotlines, surreal humour, and paranoid energy, crafting a richly atmospheric experience that mirrors the density of the novel.
Anderson prioritised tone over linear storytelling, using ambient sound, hazy visuals, and dreamlike pacing to evoke the novel’s hallucinatory vibe.
He also preserved the chaotic structure and incorporated voiceovers that echo Pynchon’s language, often pulling lines directly from the book.
Casting emotionally resonant actors like Leonardo DiCaprio helped anchor the eccentric characters in human vulnerability, while stylised cinematography and the use of 35mm VistaVision allowed Anderson to match Pynchon’s layered prose with equally rich and textured visuals.
The result is less a literal adaptation and more a cinematic interpretation of Pynchon’s ethos—chaotic, satirical, and deeply reflective.
With political satire woven into high-octane action, the film explores themes of redemption, legacy, and resistance. Shot on 35mm VistaVision and marking Anderson’s IMAX debut, it promises to be his most ambitious and emotionally charged project yet.
Paul Thomas Anderson, born on June 26, 1970, in Studio City, California, is an acclaimed American filmmaker known for his richly textured, character-driven dramas. Raised in the San Fernando Valley, Anderson began making films at a young age and never considered an alternative career. He made his directorial debut with Hard Eight (1996), but gained widespread recognition with Boogie Nights (1997), a vibrant exploration of the adult film industry. His subsequent films—Magnolia, Punch-Drunk Love, There Will Be Blood, The Master, Inherent Vice, Phantom Thread, and Licorice Pizza—have earned him numerous accolades, including multiple Academy Award nominations. Anderson is celebrated for his bold visual style, long takes, and collaborations with actors like Philip Seymour Hoffman, Daniel Day-Lewis, and Joaquin Phoenix. His work often explores themes of alienation, dysfunctional families, and redemption, and he is widely regarded as one of the most influential directors of his generation.
Thomas Pynchon, born May 8, 1937, in Glen Cove, New York, is a legendary American novelist known for his dense, postmodern works that blend history, science, and satire. After serving in the U.S. Navy, he earned a degree in English from Cornell University, where he befriended fellow writer Richard Fariña. Pynchon began his career as a technical writer at Boeing before publishing his debut novel V. in 1963. He followed with The Crying of Lot 49, Gravity’s Rainbow, Vineland, Mason & Dixon, Against the Day, Inherent Vice, and Bleeding Edge. His writing is marked by labyrinthine plots, paranoia, and dark humour, often challenging conventional narrative structures. Despite his literary fame, Pynchon is famously reclusive, avoiding public appearances and interviews. His influence on American literature is profound, and his works continue to inspire debate, admiration, and scholarly analysis.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Carissa explores questions of identity, belonging and purpose
The South African feature film Carissa, directed by Jason Jacobs and Devon Delmar in their feature debut, had its world premiere at the Venice Film Festival in 2024 in the prestigious Orizzonti section. It went on to screen at the Santa Barbara International Film Festival in California, the BlackStar Film Festival in Philadelphia, and other screenings abroad.
Set in the remote village of Wupperthal in the Cederberg mountains, Carissa tells the story of an ordinary young woman who finds herself at a crossroads. Her grandmother pressures her to sign up for the new golf estate company promising community training and employment. But she gets into trouble and escapes to the mountain where her estranged grandfather is one of the sole rooibos farmers left. Will she sign up for training and employment or risk losing access to parts of herself she only knew existed up until now?
The film was made over six years in close collaboration with local residents, many of whom appear alongside professional actors. Its focus on language, culture, and identity places it in a wider movement in the Western and Northern Cape, where Indigenous and First Peoples – including Khoe and San descendants – are reclaiming their heritage, language, and land after centuries of erasure.
The setting is central to the film. Wupperthal and the broader Cederberge are home to a distinct cultural identity shaped by language and tradition. The Afrikaans spoken in the region is celebrated and is seldom heard on screen.Rooibos, which grows only in the Cederberg and parts of the Northern Cape, is another defining feature of the area. Known internationally as South Africa’s red bush tea, it remains central to local identity and livelihoods, and in Carissa it forms part of the story of land and communities under pressure.
The landscape has also influenced South African literature and art. Wupperthal is home to the oldest shoe factory and takes pride in making shoes for legendary historical figures like Nelson Mandela. The community leaders from Wupperthal, like Barend Salomo and Edgar Valentyn, are leaders in the rooibos manufacturing which reaches the world over. The mountain rocks and caves in the region carry rich art of the indigenous peoples who wrote their own stories as rock art. These ancient voices, both human and non-human, resonate throughout Carissa’s journey. Overseas critics have praised Carissa for its measured emotions and sense of place. Variety called the film “simultaneously still and transporting…rich with feeling for the callused hands and hearts of an overlooked but industrious countryside population.”
Loud and Clear Reviews lauded it as “stunning, thematically and visually, and authentically embraces the place and the people it centres.”
Hendrik Kriel and Gretchen Ramsden who play Hendrik and Carissa respectively.
Magical realism as worldview
The film is shot through with elements of magical realism and layered symbolism, playing with boundaries, where interior and exterior overlap.
“Magical realism is part of my identity,” Jacobs says. “It’s how I make sense of the world, of the things that are not always seen. It’s finding magic in moments not usually called magic, like a bird flying into your dream and trusting the truth of the message.” For him, it links storytelling to healing and continues a legacy in African storytelling where the ordinary and the spiritual are connected.
The film includes a scene set in a mountain cave with centuries old rock art – among the oldest cultural records in southern Africa – covering the walls. Jacobs describes these encounters as “portals into discovering parts of yourself you didn’t know were lost.”
Both directors describe the process of making Carissa as one of healing – for themselves, for the community, and for audiences. “Storytelling is my practice as a natural healer,” Jacobs says. “My role is to make stories that give local and international audiences opportunities to reflect on the threats to native people around the world, to perhaps leave the cinema with a different perspective.”
Although Carissa becomes cognisant of other ways of being, Delmar says the narrative is never detached from the real world. “Is Carissa held back by responsibility? There’s no easy answer. It’s that complex conflict between aspiration and constraint that makes the story authentic. The choice she makes in the end speaks of her self-discovery and growth as a character and is powerful in its own right.”
“One of the most powerful moments for me was screening Carissa in Wupperthal,” says producer Annemarie du Plessis. “People saw themselves, their way of life on screen and there was an enormous sense of pride and joy. That reaction was as meaningful as any festival showing, because it confirmed the film belongs to the community first.”
“What matters most to me is that our stories and our history are as powerful and relevant as those from anywhere else,” adds producer Deidré Jantjies. “Throughout the making of the film, we worked as a team to create spaces for people to express themselves freely. Everyone had a voice. For me it has been about empowerment, not just through this film but for other projects that will come after it.”
For Jantjies, the film’s achievement is showing that local films can resonate far beyond their immediate setting. “It was beautiful to see people who didn’t know us, didn’t know our world, respond with appreciation,” she says. “It shows the value of South African stories. They are not only ours – they can speak to the world.”
The film was shot on location in Wupperthal with a cast that combines professional actors and local community members as part of the ensemble. Gretchen Ramsden (Toorbos, Bergie) enchants audiences in the title role of Carissa, alongside Wilhelmiena Hesselman and Hendrik Kriel, as her grandparents. Elton Landrew, a veteran of South African stage and screen, appears as Carissa’s father, while newcomer Gladwin van Niekerk carries a strong supporting role as her only friend. “We wanted to tell a story that was authentic to the place and people we were working with,” said co-director Jason Jacobs. “Making Carissa was a collaborative process with the Wupperthal community whose experiences and perspectives are central to its narrative. Now we’re looking forward to seeing how South African audiences respond.”
“The film explores questions of identity, belonging and purpose,” Delmar added. “These are not just rural themes. They speak to young South Africans everywhere who are trying to find their way.”
Carissa’s visual style has been widely praised, with cinematographer Gray Kotzé capturing both the vast landscapes of the Cederberg and the intimate details of village life. The score, composed by Frazer Barry, Mikhaila Alyssa Smith and Delmar, blends traditional influences with contemporary sound.
The film was developed over six years, supported by programmes such as the Durban FilmMart and Oxbelly Screenwriters & Directors Lab in Greece. An early version of the project was presented at the Venice International Film Festival’s “Final Cut” workshop, where it won several awards, including the Venice Biennale Prize for post-production.
At the 2025 Silwerskerm Awards in Cape Town, Carissa received nominations for Best Actress (Ramsden), Best Supporting Actress (Hesselman), Best Supporting Actor (Landrew), Best Cinematography, Best Editing, and Best Original Score.
“Carissa proves that South African cinema can hold its own internationally,” said producer Deidré Jantjies. “Our stories are just as powerful and relevant as those from anywhere else. They speak to universal themes, while also showing the richness of our own history and culture.”
The film is distributed locally by Indigenous Film Distribution and Development.
Jason Jacobs is a multi-award-winning South African writer-director whose work spans theatre, film, and poetry, often rooted in his Namaqua heritage. He emerged as a distinctive voice in the performing arts with a trilogy of debut works that earned him the Klein Karoo National Arts Festival New Voices Award in 2017. Jacobs co-founded the Khardoeksies youth drama group in his hometown of Kharkams, nurturing local storytelling talent. His creative practice blends cultural preservation with contemporary narrative forms, as seen in his translation of Womb of Fire into Brandbaar and his production of Maroon at the Iziko Slave Lodge. During the pandemic, he developed an online writing course with SWEAT, which evolved into the live play COVID Waarheid. His short film Nama Swaan premiered at Silwerskermfees and now streams on Showmax. Jacobs is currently completing a master’s degree in Theatre and Performance at UCT, where his research explores somatic approaches to shame and memory in Afrikaans theatre.
Devon Delmar is a South African filmmaker, writer, and composer whose work often explores consciousness, tradition, and the non-human through a deeply local lens. He co-directs projects under the KRAAL collective alongside Jason Jacobs, with whom he shares a commitment to community-rooted storytelling. Delmar’s filmography includes Under the Static (2016), Glasya’s Heresy – Dispel (2020), and the acclaimed feature Carissa (2024), which premiered in the Orizzonti section at the Venice Film Festival. His work has been showcased at Durban FilmMart, Gotham Film Week, IFFR CineMart, and the Final Cut lab in Venice, where Carissa won multiple awards. Delmar’s creative ethos centres on representing underseen communities and challenging conventional narratives, often integrating themes of modernity versus tradition. He is also a fellow of the Oxbelly Screenwriters & Directors Lab and has contributed to theatre and animation projects that reflect his multidisciplinary approach.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Forging Middle-earth: Inside Tolkien’s Creative Crucible
J.R.R. Tolkien’s writing process for The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings was a slow, recursive, and deeply immersive journey—more akin to myth-making than conventional storytelling.
It unfolded over decades, shaped by bursts of inspiration, long pauses, and an obsessive attention to detail. Tolkien did not begin with a clear plot or ending in mind. Instead, he wrote as a sub-creator, building a world from the inside out—starting with language, geography, and history, and allowing the narrative to emerge organically from the soil of Middle-earth.
The spark for The Hobbit came unexpectedly
While grading student papers one day in the early 1930s, Tolkien found a blank page and idly wrote, “In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit.” That single line, whimsical and mysterious, opened the door to a story he hadn’t planned. He began crafting a tale for his children, drawing on his love of fairy tales, Norse mythology, and the English countryside. The writing was informal at first, shaped by bedtime storytelling and personal amusement. Yet even in its early form, The Hobbit was rooted in the deeper mythic framework Tolkien had been developing for years through The Silmarillion, a sprawling collection of legends and histories that would remain unpublished during his lifetime.
What started as a whimsical children’s tale evolved over two to three years into a fully formed manuscript, published in 1937. Its success prompted Tolkien’s publisher to request a sequel, but what followed was far more ambitious. The success of The Hobbit in 1937 prompted his publisher to request a sequel, and Tolkien reluctantly began what would become The Lord of the Rings—a project that would consume him for over a decade.
Tolkien’s writing process was nonlinear and often agonizingly slow
He began The Lord of the Rings with little sense of where the story would go. He made several false starts, changed character names repeatedly, and paused the project for months or even years at a time. The outbreak of World War II and his academic responsibilities at Oxford further delayed progress. Yet he remained committed, often writing late into the night, sending serialized chapters to his son Christopher, who was serving in South Africa with the Royal Air Force. These exchanges gave the writing a personal urgency, transforming the story into a lifeline between father and son.
He began writing The Lord of the Rings later that same year, and the process stretched across twelve long, meticulous years. By 1949, the core narrative was complete, but Tolkien continued refining the text, crafting appendices, and wrestling with the logistics of publication. The trilogy was finally released in three volumes between 1954 and 1955. Throughout this time, Tolkien was also a full-time professor, father, and mythmaker—building not just stories, but entire languages, histories, and cosmologies. His work wasn’t just written; it was excavated, layered, and lived into being.
One of Tolkien’s most distinctive methods was his use of maps
He began by sketching fragments of Middle-earth, adjusting terrain to match the characters’ journeys, and ensuring that travel times and topography aligned with the narrative’s logic. The map was not merely a backdrop—it was a living document that shaped the story’s development. He revised it repeatedly, accounting for mountain slopes, river paths, and the speed of Frodo and Sam’s travels. This geographical precision grounded the fantasy in a tactile reality, allowing readers to feel the weight of the journey and the texture of the land.
Language was another cornerstone of Tolkien’s process
As a philologist, he was obsessed with the structure, history, and aesthetic of language. He created entire tongues—Quenya, Sindarin, Khuzdul—complete with grammar, etymology, and cultural context. These languages were not decorative; they were the foundation of civilizations, shaping names, customs, and mythologies. Tolkien often began with a word or name and built a culture around it. This linguistic depth gave Middle-earth its unique resonance, making it feel ancient, layered, and alive.
Tolkien’s writing was also deeply influenced by his academic background and personal beliefs
He drew on Anglo-Saxon poetry, medieval romance, and Norse sagas, weaving their rhythms and themes into his prose. His Catholic faith informed the moral architecture of the story, though he resisted allegory. Instead, he embedded spiritual truths in the fabric of the narrative—through themes of sacrifice, providence, and redemption. Frodo’s burden, Gandalf’s resurrection, and Aragorn’s humility all echo theological motifs, yet remain grounded in character and plot.
The process of revision was relentless
Tolkien rewrote chapters multiple times, often revisiting earlier sections to accommodate new developments. He was meticulous about internal consistency, ensuring that timelines, character motivations, and historical references aligned across the sprawling narrative. The appendices alone took years to compile, as he sought to provide historical depth and linguistic coherence to the world he had built. He illustrated places described in the text, updating drawings and prose together until they felt correct. This iterative approach reflected his belief that storytelling was a form of discovery, not dictation.
Tolkien’s relationship with the Inklings, a literary group that included C.S. Lewis, was another vital part of his process
Their weekly meetings at Oxford provided a space for critique, encouragement, and philosophical debate. Lewis’s enthusiasm for Tolkien’s work helped sustain him through moments of doubt and fatigue. The Inklings treated storytelling as a sacred craft, and their conversations shaped the emotional and thematic contours of The Lord of the Rings.
Despite the epic scale of the story, Tolkien remained focused on emotional truth
He wrote not to dazzle, but to evoke—to make readers feel the weight of loss, the joy of reunion, the terror of temptation. His characters are not archetypes but individuals shaped by history, culture, and personal struggle. Frodo’s weariness, Sam’s loyalty, Boromir’s fall—all reflect the complexity of human emotion. Tolkien’s prose, though often formal, pulses with feeling. He believed that fantasy could reveal truths that realism could not—that myth could illuminate the soul.
The final stages of writing were marked by exhaustion and uncertainty
Tolkien worried that the story was too long, too complex, too strange. His publisher feared financial loss and considered cutting the appendices. Yet when The Lord of the Rings was published in three volumes between 1954 and 1955, it quickly captured the public imagination. Readers responded not just to the adventure, but to the depth—the sense that Middle-earth was a real place, shaped by centuries of history and myth.
Tolkien wrote like a mythmaker
His process was not driven by plot outlines or market trends, but by a desire to recover and reimagine the lost mythologies of Northern Europe.
He saw storytelling as an act of sub-creation—a way for humans to reflect divine creativity by building secondary worlds.
Through maps, languages, sketches, and endless revisions, he crafted a mythology that felt both timeless and deeply personal.
The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings are not just books; they are acts of remembrance, resistance, and renewal. They invite us to journey not only through Middle-earth, but through the landscapes of our own hearts, where courage, loss, and hope still stir.
J.R.R. Tolkien was an English writer, philologist, and academic whose mythic imagination reshaped the landscape of modern fantasy. Born in Bloemfontein, South Africa, in 1892, and raised in England after the early death of his parents, Tolkien developed a lifelong fascination with language, mythology, and medieval literature. He served in World War I, an experience that deeply influenced the emotional tone of his later work. As a professor at Oxford, he specialized in Old and Middle English, and his scholarly background infused his fiction with linguistic depth and historical resonance. Tolkien’s creation of Middle-earth began as a private mythology, rooted in invented languages and epic histories, and blossomed into The Hobbit (1937) and The Lord of the Rings (1954–55), which together formed a vast, morally complex universe. His work pioneered the genre of high fantasy, blending philological precision with spiritual and mythic themes. Tolkien remained a devout Catholic throughout his life, and his stories reflect a quiet but profound moral architecture. He passed away in 1973, leaving behind a legacy that continues to inspire readers, scholars, and storytellers across the globe.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Tolkien’s Epic Birth of The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings
J.R.R. Tolkien’s creation of The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings was not the product of a single spark, but rather a slow-burning fire fed by language, war, myth, faith, and personal longing.
His legendarium—vast, intricate, and emotionally resonant—emerged from a confluence of scholarly obsession and lived experience, shaped by the ruins of history and the rhythms of storytelling. At its heart, Tolkien’s work is a response to absence: the loss of ancient languages, the devastation of war, and the fading of mythic imagination in the modern world. He wrote not merely to entertain, but to restore—to re-enchant the landscape of literature with a mythology that felt both timeless and deeply personal.
Tolkien’s academic life as a philologist was foundational
He was obsessed with language—not just its structure, but its soul. He studied Old English, Norse, Finnish, Welsh, and Gothic, and from these linguistic roots he began to craft entire tongues of his own: Quenya, Sindarin, Khuzdul. These weren’t ornamental; they were the seeds from which cultures, histories, and characters grew. Tolkien once said that The Lord of the Rings was “fundamentally linguistic in inspiration,” and that the stories existed to give his invented languages a world to live in. This reversal of the usual creative process—building a world to house a language—reveals the depth of his commitment to philology as a myth-making tool. The name “Middle-earth” itself is drawn from the Old English “middangeard,” the world of men in ancient cosmology, and it’s no accident that the cadence of his prose often echoes the rhythms of Anglo-Saxon poetry.
Tolkien’s imagination was not confined to the library
His experiences in World War I left indelible marks on his psyche and his fiction. He served as a second lieutenant in the Lancashire Fusiliers and fought in the Battle of the Somme, one of the bloodiest conflicts in human history. The horror of mechanized warfare—the mud, the gas, the senseless death—haunted him. He lost close friends in the trenches, members of his beloved Tea Club and Barrovian Society, a fellowship of young artists and dreamers. That grief echoes in Frodo’s weary journey, in Sam’s loyalty, and in the sense of fading innocence that permeates The Lord of the Rings. Mordor, with its blasted landscape and industrial desolation, is not just a fantasy realm—it’s a memory of the Western Front. Yet Tolkien resisted allegory; he insisted that his stories were not direct commentaries on war or politics. Instead, they were mythic responses to the emotional truths of those experiences: courage, loss, endurance, and the hope of healing.
The genesis of The Hobbit was more whimsical
One evening, while grading papers, Tolkien scribbled the now-famous line: “In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit.” That sentence, born of boredom and playfulness, opened the door to a world that had been quietly forming in his mind for years. The story of Bilbo Baggins was initially written for his children, a lighter tale than the epic that would follow. Yet even The Hobbit is steeped in deeper mythic currents. The dragon Smaug, the dwarves’ quest, the riddles in the dark—all draw from Norse and Anglo-Saxon traditions. Tolkien’s love of fairy tales and medieval romance shaped the tone and structure of the book, blending whimsy with ancient echoes. The success of The Hobbit led his publisher to request a sequel, and Tolkien obliged—but what emerged was far more than a continuation. The Lord of the Rings became a vast, layered epic, a mythology for England, as he once described it.
Tolkien’s Catholic faith also played a quiet but profound role
Though he rejected overt allegory, his worldview was deeply theological. The themes of free will, redemption, sacrifice, and providence are woven throughout his work. Frodo’s burden, Aragorn’s humility, Gandalf’s resurrection—all resonate with spiritual undertones. The concept of evil in Tolkien’s world is not simplistic; it is seductive, corrupting, and often born from pride. Sauron, Morgoth, Saruman—all fall not because they are inherently monstrous, but because they seek power without wisdom. Conversely, the heroes of Middle-earth are often reluctant, humble, and guided by love. Tolkien’s belief in a moral universe—one where light and darkness are in constant tension—gives his stories their emotional gravity.
Nature, too, was a source of inspiration
Tolkien grew up in the English countryside of Warwickshire, and his love for trees, hills, and quiet lanes permeates his writing. The Shire is a tribute to pastoral England, a place of comfort and simplicity. The Ents, ancient tree-herders, reflect his reverence for the natural world and his disdain for industrialization. He lamented the urban sprawl of Birmingham and the destruction of green spaces, and this ecological grief finds voice in the scouring of the Shire, where Saruman’s machines defile the land. In Middle-earth, nature is not a backdrop—it is a character, a memory, and amoral compass.
Tolkien’s friendships also shaped his creative journey
His bond with C.S. Lewis, fellow Oxford don and member of the Inklings, was particularly influential. They challenged and encouraged each other, debating theology, myth, and the purpose of fantasy. Lewis’s Chronicles of Narnia and Tolkien’s legendarium emerged from these conversations, each reflecting different theological and narrative sensibilities. While Lewis embraced allegory, Tolkien preferred mythic resonance. Their shared belief in the power of story to reveal truth—what Tolkien called “sub-creation”—was a cornerstone of their literary philosophy.
Tolkien and C.S. Lewis
Tolkien wrote to recover something he felt the modern world had lost: a sense of wonder, rooted in tradition but open to transformation
He believed that myth could reveal truths that reason alone could not grasp. His stories are not escapist fantasies but acts of recovery—restoring vision, rekindling hope, and reawakening the imagination. In crafting Middle-earth, he gave readers a mirror to their own world, refracted through the lens of myth. The courage of hobbits, the wisdom of elves, the fallibility of men—all speak to the human condition with startling clarity.
When we ask what inspired Tolkien, we are really asking what he longed to preserve
Language, memory, friendship, faith, nature, myth—these were his treasures, and he guarded them with the fierce devotion of a storyteller who knew that stories could save. The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings are not just books; they are acts of remembrance, resistance, and renewal. They invite us to journey not only through Middle-earth, but through the landscapes of our own hearts, where dragons still sleep and hope still stirs.
J.R.R. Tolkien was an English writer, philologist, and academic whose mythic imagination reshaped the landscape of modern fantasy. Born in Bloemfontein, South Africa, in 1892, and raised in England after the early death of his parents, Tolkien developed a lifelong fascination with language, mythology, and medieval literature. He served in World War I, an experience that deeply influenced the emotional tone of his later work. As a professor at Oxford, he specialised in Old and Middle English, and his scholarly background lent his fiction a linguistic depth and historical resonance. Tolkien’s creation of Middle-earth began as a private mythology, rooted in invented languages and epic histories, and blossomed into The Hobbit (1937) and The Lord of the Rings (1954–55), which together formed a vast, morally complex universe. His work pioneered the genre of high fantasy, blending philological precision with spiritual and mythic themes. Tolkien remained a devout Catholic throughout his life, and his stories reflect a quiet but profound moral architecture. He passed away in 1973, leaving behind a legacy that continues to inspire readers, scholars, and storytellers across the globe.
London Calling is a 2025 action comedy directed by Allan Ungar, a stylish, snark-filled buddy film that blends bullets, banter, and unexpected bonding.
Filmed in Cape Town, it blends gritty action with odd-couple comedy, offering a fresh take on redemption, mentorship, and the messy art of growing up.
After a botched job in the UK, hitman Tommy Ward (Josh Duhamel) escapes to Los Angeles, desperate to return to his estranged son in London. To earn safe passage, he strikes a deal with his new crime boss Benson(Rick Hoffman): mentor Benson’s socially awkward teenage son Julian (Jeremy Ray Taylor) and teach him how to “be a man.” What begins as a reluctant babysitting gig spirals into a chaotic journey of shootouts, car chases, and unexpected emotional depth. Along the way, Tommy must confront his past—including the wrath of London’s most feared crime lord Freddy Darby (Aidan Gillen).
Director’s Statement
I love movies. I adore them. But there’s nothing I love more than a movie that sets out to deliver pure fun.
As a kid growing up in the 80s and 90s, the buddy cop genre and road movies were more popular than ever before, and they had a major influence on me when it came to the kind of films I wanted to make. Like a lot of people, I was charmed by the idea of taking two individuals from different walks of life and forcing them together; MIDNIGHT RUN, 48 HRS, LETHAL WEAPON, LAST BOY SCOUT etc.
The comedy that would stem from these pairings was always a joy to watch, and if you got really lucky the films would have some real depth to them. I’ve made it no secret over the years that it’s incredibly important for me to find as much heart as possible in the stories I want to tell, and it’s part of the reason why I’m picky when it comes to the films I choose to make. I strive to find the right balance of action, comedy, character, and heart.
Enter LONDON CALLING. As soon as my agents sent me this script, I was all in. It took the best elements of the buddy genre, stuffed it into a road movie, and encompassed themes of family, aging, and identity.
But more than anything, it was about fathers and sons. Tommy Ward has hit a point in his life where he has to accept what all of us do someday – that age catches up and we have an expiration date. He also needs to accept that his son doesn’t think much of him. Julian is a teenager who’s trying to figure out where he belongs in this world, and is desperate for his father’s approval. Both of these characters are at a crossroads. So the idea that Tommy has to take Julian on a journey to show him how to become a man is not only poignant, but it’s relatable. Sprinkle in the fact that the purpose of this journey is for Tommy and Julian to whack a renown hitman… well, now you have a recipe for some fun.
And speaking of fun: We shot this film in beautiful Cape Town, South Africa where we had the pleasure of trying to find a way to double it for both London and Los Angeles. While that was challenging on its own, we had to do it during peak season which happens to be when summer coincides with Christmas. This essentially meant that we weren’t allowed to shoot anywhere we wanted to. Each film comes with a unique set of obstacles and challenges, and while this one was no different, I have to say that it was still the most incredible filmmaking experience I’ve had to date. I was blessed with an incredible cast, an amazing crew, and we made what I believe is a truly special film in a special place.
Getting the chance to reunite with Josh Duhamel after the success of BANDIT was enough of a reason for me to be excited about this film, but everything else truly fell into place. So I’m incredibly excited for audiences to experience a fun film that will not only excite, but will make them laugh, clench, and maybe even cry. Hope everyone enjoys the ride.
Allan Ungar
The inspiration behind London Calling stemmed from director Allan Ungar’s fascination with genre mashups and flawed masculinity
While specific interviews detailing his creative spark are limited, the film’s DNA suggests a deliberate homage to classic buddy action comedies—think Midnight Run or The Hitman’s Bodyguard—infused with emotional grit and redemption arcs.
Ungar reportedly wanted to explore what happens when a hardened hitman is forced into surrogate fatherhood, using chaos and comedy to peel back layers of guilt, regret, and reluctant tenderness.
The decision to shoot in South Africa, doubling for both London and Los Angeles, also shaped the film’s visual tone and thematic duality—two cities, two lives, one fractured man trying to make amends.
The screenplay was written by Omer Levin Menekse, Quinn Wolfe, and Allan Ungar.
Their collaboration blends sharp dialogue, genre-savvy structure, and emotional undercurrents, crafting a story that’s equal parts explosive and tender.
Allan Ungar is a Canadian director, producer, and screenwriter celebrated for his stylish genre work and kinetic storytelling. Ungar made his feature debut at 23 with Tapped Out, followed by the Netflix-acquired Gridlocked. He gained viral acclaim for his Uncharted fan film starring Nathan Fillion, praised for its wit and fidelity to the source material. Ungar’s true-crime drama Bandit (2022) was a streaming hit, and he’s now attached as executive producer on the upcoming Death Stranding adaptation. With London Calling, Ungar continues his exploration of flawed masculinity, redemption, and genre subversion.
Omer Levin Menekse is a Turkish-American screenwriter and producer whose work often explores identity, absurdity, and emotional dislocation. Born in Istanbul to a Muslim mother and Jewish father, Menekse channels his bicultural upbringing into stories that straddle humour and heartbreak. A graduate of USC’s School of Cinematic Arts and an Annenberg Fellow, he’s served as a story consultant and script analyst across the industry. His co-written short Please Hold won a Special Jury Award at Sundance and earned an Oscar nomination, cementing his reputation for sharp, socially conscious storytelling.
Quinn Wolfe is a writer and composer known for his understated, character-driven work. His early short films, including Pillow Talk (2009) and Love Story (2012), blend quiet intimacy with lyrical structure. Though Wolfe maintains a low public profile, his contribution to London Calling reflects a knack for tonal layering—balancing action and emotional grit with subtle, humanising beats.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on A Big Bold Beautiful Journey
A Big Bold Beautiful Journey is a 2025 romantic fantasy film directed by Kogonada and written by Seth Reiss.
It stars Margot Robbie as Sarah and Colin Farrell as David—two strangers who meet at a wedding and, through a mysterious GPS in David’s ageing Volkswagen Passat, embark on a surreal road trip that allows them to revisit defining moments from their pasts.
As their journey unfolds, they explore whimsical locations like a lighthouse-museum and a painted version of Paris, confront heartbreak, and even glimpse a possible future together.
The film blends emotional introspection with fantastical elements, offering a meditation on memory, regret, and second chances. The story is both intimate and sweeping in scope.
Farrell was eager to reunite with Kogonada, with whom he had collaborated on the acclaimed independent film After Yang. And, like Robbie, he was drawn to Seth Reiss’s screenplay. “It was one of the most beautiful scripts I’ve read,” says Farrell. “It has such an enormous heart and a singular and relatable story. Everyone, to some degree, struggles with finding contentment and love.”
For Kogonada, reuniting with Farrell was one of the project’s many highlights. “Colin has such a rich interior life, which is always present in his eyes,” says the filmmaker. “There’s something inherently romantic about him, as well. And I love that Colin got to use his native Irish accent” – which Robbie, as Sarah, pokes fun at in the story – “because he’s really a poet at heart.”
David and Sarah are each other’s equals and opposites and are always engaging. “I think people can see themselves in both David and Sarah,” says Robbie. “She’s terrified of being hurt and making herself vulnerable, especially when it comes to relationships. For years, Sarah has built up this emotional armor and has done such a good job at avoiding being hurt, she’s now someone who hurts other people. Sarah doesn’t like the person she’s become.
“I think we all look back at the way we handled certain things and wish we had done those things better,” Robbie continues. “Sarah and David have the chance to walk through a magical door and confront some actions of their past, and in some cases, even right some wrongs and eventually find romance.”
David, too, is a little lost when we meet him. “And he’s fine with being lost,” says Farrell. “David has yet to find real joy or even contentment and is just drifting through life. Then, he and Sarah embark on a transformative journey that prompts self-reflection on key moments in their lives. That leads to a kind of reawakening of love.”
David and Sarah are immediately drawn to one another. “They just can’t help it,” says Farrell, with Robbie adding, “Sarah initially thinks that he’s the love of her life or the person who absolutely destroys her. Probably both.”
Robbie and Farrell’s chemistry in depicting the characters’ burgeoning love story was apparent from the start, Kogonada points out. “It was palpable from rehearsals. Margot and Colin were so attuned and in sync with one another that they could improvise at will. It felt kinetic and alive from the beginning to the end. I think they engage the world in similar ways. And they share the same sense of humor. Their connection is deep and soulful.”
Some doors bring you to your past. Some doors lead you to your future. And some doors change everything. Sarah (Margot Robbie) and David (Colin Farrell) are single strangers who meet at a mutual friend’s wedding and soon, through a surprising twist of fate, find themselves on A Big Bold Beautiful Journey – an original, funny, fantastical, sweeping adventure together where they get to re-live important moments from their respective pasts, illuminating how they got to where they are in the present…and possibly getting a chance to alter their futures.
A Big Bold Beautiful Journey was inspired by the idea of exploring human connection through whimsical, surreal storytelling.
Writer Seth Reiss—known for his sharp, emotionally layered work on The Menu—crafted the screenplay to reflect how chance encounters and unexpected detours can reshape our lives. The film’s central motif, a mysterious GPS guiding two strangers through time and memory, was designed to symbolize the unpredictable paths of love and self-discovery.
Director Kogonada, celebrated for his contemplative visual style in films like Columbus and After Yang, was drawn to the project’s emotional depth and fantastical premise. His interest in memory, identity, and the poetry of everyday life shaped the film’s tone, blending grounded emotion with surreal imagery.
The collaboration between Reiss and Kogonada aimed to create a cinematic experience that feels both intimate and expansive—a journey not just across landscapes, but through the inner worlds of its characters.
A Big Bold Beautiful Journey is inventive, bold, and imaginative filmmaking, paired with immersive, breathtaking visuals.
Robbie and Farrell showcase their remarkable chemistry as Sarah and David, two unmarried strangers who meet at a wedding and find themselves swept into a magical journey. Through a series of doors that act as portals to their pasts, they revisit defining moments of their individual lives. As Sarah and David experience each other’s memories, they gain a deeper understanding of who they are in the present and open the door to the possibility of love in their future.
Indeed, doors, of all kinds, are a critical element of A Big Bold Beautiful Journey. The film’s director, Kogonada notes, “I love the theatre of doors. When I see a door on a theatrical stage, it always sparks the imagination. That door has the potential to lead us anywhere – into the mundane or the magical. Doors represent possibilities. They are inherently mysterious. Opening a door, literally and figuratively, means entering a new space, a new experience, a new moment in your life.”
Kogonada’s use of magical realism seamlessly blends fantastical elements, like the life-changing doors, with practical, everyday settings, creating a grounded, yet whimsical experience crafted for the big screen.
“It’s the kind of film I would want to watch in a packed theater,” the filmmaker states. “It’s surprising and original with two compelling actors – Margot and Colin – at the peak of their craft. They light up the screen together. “Like many movie lovers, I’m hungry for new worlds, new characters, and a new way of thinking about the human experience,” he continues. “But I also want something that feels relatable to my everyday life.”
The characters’ big bold beautiful journey uncovers a world where every door unlocks a memory, reminding us that wherever you are in life, you have the opportunity to open yourself up and change your future.
Seth Reiss is an American writer, actor, and director known for his sharp wit and emotionally layered storytelling. A graduate of Boston University, Reiss began his career as a head writer for The Onion, where he honed his satirical voice. He later became a writing supervisor for Late Night with Seth Meyers, contributing to over 700 episodes. Reiss has written for acclaimed projects like The Menu (2022), co-authored with Will Tracy, and A Big Bold Beautiful Journey (2025), showcasing his ability to blend dark comedy with heartfelt themes. His work spans television, film, and sketch comedy, including directing shorts for UCB Comedy Originals. As an actor, he’s appeared in series like Girls and Comedy Bang! Bang!, often portraying quirky, understated characters. Reiss’s multifaceted career reflects a deep commitment to storytelling across genres and platforms.
Kogonada is a South Korean-born American filmmaker celebrated for his contemplative visual style and philosophical approach to cinema. Originally a video essayist, he gained recognition through essays for The Criterion Collection and Sight & Sound, exploring the aesthetics of directors like Ozu, Kubrick, and Kore-eda. His pseudonym pays tribute to Kogo Noda, screenwriter for Yasujirō Ozu, reflecting his reverence for cinematic tradition. Kogonada made his feature debut with Columbus (2017), followed by After Yang (2021), both praised for their emotional depth and meticulous composition. He has also directed episodes of Pachinko and Star Wars: The Acolyte, expanding his reach into television. His latest film, A Big Bold Beautiful Journey (2025), continues his exploration of memory, identity, and human connection. Known for blending poetic visuals with quiet introspection, Kogonada remains a singular voice in contemporary cinema.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on The Origin of Algorithms: From Ancient Insight to Digital Pulse
Long before algorithms became the silent architects of our digital lives—curating feeds, guiding GPS routes, and shaping online searches—they were tools of ancient reasoning, born from the human need to solve, sort, and structure.
The word “algorithm” itself traces back to the 9th-century Persian polymath Muhammad ibn Musa al-Khwarizmi, whose work in mathematics and astronomy laid the foundation for algebra and computational logic. His treatise on Hindu-Arabic numerals, translated into Latin as Algoritmi de numero Indorum, gave rise to the term “algorithm”—a linguistic echo of his name and legacy.
Yet the concept of algorithms predates al-Khwarizmi by centuries. Ancient Babylonian tablets from around 1600 BCE reveal step-by-step procedures for solving mathematical problems—early algorithmic thinking etched in clay. Greek mathematicians like Euclid formalized algorithms for tasks such as finding the greatest common divisor, while Indian scholars like Brahmagupta and Bhaskara developed cyclic methods for solving complex equations. These were not just mathematical curiosities; they were practical tools for astronomy, architecture, and trade—proof that algorithms have always been about more than numbers. They are about process, pattern, and prediction.
The evolution of algorithms accelerated dramatically in the modern era. In the 19th century, Charles Babbage and Ada Lovelace envisioned mechanical computation, laying the groundwork for programmable machines. Lovelace’s notes on the Analytical Engine are often considered the first published algorithm intended for implementation on a machine. Then came George Boole’s symbolic logic in 1847, which fused mathematics with reasoning and became the backbone of digital computation. By the 1930s, Alan Turing formalised the concept of a universal machine—a theoretical construct capable of executing any algorithm. His work not only defined what an algorithm could be but also what it could never do, introducing the limits of computability.
In the 20th century, algorithms moved from theory to infrastructure. They powered early computers, optimized logistics, and eventually became embedded in software, search engines, and social media platforms. Today, algorithms are no longer just mathematical recipes—they are decision-makers, predictors, and gatekeepers. They shape everything from medical diagnoses to music recommendations, often invisibly. And while they promise efficiency and personalization, they also raise ethical questions about bias, surveillance, and autonomy.
Understanding the origin of algorithms is not just a historical exercise—it’s a way of reclaiming agency. These systems began as human inventions, crafted to extend our reasoning and solve our problems. As they evolve into increasingly autonomous entities, we must remember their roots: not in code, but in curiosity. From clay tablets to quantum computing, algorithms have always been reflections of how we think, what we value, and how we imagine the future.
Why Algorithms Matter to Writers: Rhythm, Resonance, and Reach
In today’s creative landscape, algorithms are no longer confined to the realm of coders and engineers—they’ve become quiet collaborators in the writing process. For writers, algorithms offer both structure and possibility, shaping how we draft, refine, and share our work. At their core, algorithms are sequences of logic—step-by-step instructions designed to solve problems or generate outcomes. In writing, this translates into everything from predictive text and grammar suggestions to AI-powered story generation and editorial analysis. These tools don’t replace the writer’s voice; they amplify it, offering scaffolding where intuition meets pattern.
One of the most immediate ways algorithms support writers is through efficiency and clarity. Autocomplete and grammar-checking systems use algorithmic models to anticipate phrasing, flag inconsistencies, and streamline sentence construction. This can be especially powerful for writers working under tight deadlines or navigating complex ideas—allowing them to focus on meaning while the machine handles mechanics. Algorithms also help with structural planning. Outlining tools, content analyzers, and even genre-specific templates use algorithmic logic to guide pacing, tension, and thematic development. For writers who teach or facilitate, these systems can be adapted into modular frameworks that support group learning and introspection.
Beyond the page, algorithms shape how writing is discovered and engaged with. Search engine optimization (SEO), social media algorithms, and recommendation engines determine which stories surface and which remain unseen. Writers who understand these systems can craft titles, tags, and formats that align with algorithmic preferences—without compromising emotional truth.
This is especially vital for self-published authors, bloggers, and digital curators who rely on visibility to build community and legacy. In this sense, algorithms become not just tools of composition, but gateways to connection.
Yet the relationship between writers and algorithms is not purely technical—it’s philosophical. Algorithms mirror our patterns, preferences, and biases. They learn from us, echo us, and sometimes challenge us. For writers, this invites reflection: What rhythms do we repeat? What truths do we compress? What silences do we encode? When used thoughtfully, algorithms can help us interrogate our own creative habits, offering new ways to break form, resist cliché, and deepen resonance.
Ultimately, algorithms matter to writers because they offer a new kind of dialogue—between structure and soul, pattern and pulse. They are not the authors of meaning, but they are its scaffolding, its echo chamber, its amplifier. In the hands of a writer, an algorithm is not a constraint—it’s a rhythm waiting to be shaped. Whether you’re composing a poem, curating a homepage, or designing a teaching module, understanding the logic behind the machine allows you to bend it toward your own emotional architecture. And that, in itself, is a kind of authorship.
How to Befriend Algorithms: From Resistance to Resonance
In a world increasingly shaped by invisible systems, befriending algorithms isn’t just a technical skill—it’s a philosophical shift. Algorithms curate our news, guide our job searches, shape our writing, and even influence our emotional rhythms. To resist them entirely is to fight the tide. But to befriend them? That’s where agency begins. It’s not about surrendering to machine logic—it’s about learning its language, understanding its patterns, and bending its rhythm toward human resonance.
At their core, algorithms are sequences of decisions—structured logic designed to solve problems or predict behavior. They’re not sentient, but they are reactive. They learn from us, echo us, and sometimes amplify our worst habits. To befriend an algorithm is to become conscious of that feedback loop. It means asking: What am I teaching this system about myself? What patterns am I reinforcing? What silences am I encoding?
Start with curiosity. Algorithms thrive on data, and every click, pause, or scroll is a signal. By observing your own digital behavior—what you engage with, what you ignore—you begin to see the contours of your algorithmic self. This isn’t about paranoia; it’s about pattern awareness. If your feed feels shallow or repetitive, it’s likely because the algorithm thinks that’s what you want. Shift your behavior, and the system will follow. Search differently. Linger on nuance. Feed the machine your complexity.
Next, embrace collaboration. Algorithms can be powerful creative partners. Writers use them to outline stories, refine tone, and generate prompts. Designers use them to test layouts, optimize flow, and personalize user experience. Even in teaching and facilitation, algorithms can help structure modular guides, track engagement, and adapt content to group needs. The key is to treat the algorithm not as a dictator, but as a mirror—one that reflects your choices and invites refinement.
But befriending algorithms also means setting boundaries. Not every suggestion is wise. Not every pattern is healthy. Learn when to override, when to pause, when to reassert your own rhythm. This is especially vital in emotionally charged spaces—social media, news feeds, recommendation engines—where algorithms often prioritize engagement over truth. Befriending doesn’t mean blind trust; it means conscious dialogue.
Ultimately, to befriend an algorithm is to reclaim authorship. These systems are not neutral—they’re shaped by human values, biases, and histories. By engaging them with intention, we can reshape their outputs, reframe their logic, and reassert our own emotional architecture. Whether you’re curating a homepage, composing a poem, or navigating a job search, the algorithm is already in the room. Invite it to the table. Teach it your rhythm. And let the collaboration begin.
Life Without Algorithms: A World Unfiltered, Unsorted, Unseen
magine waking up in a world where your phone doesn’t unlock with your face, your GPS can’t reroute traffic, and your social media feed is a chaotic scroll of irrelevant updates from people you barely remember. In this alternate reality, algorithms—the silent conductors of our digital symphony—have vanished. What remains is a life stripped of personalization, prediction, and pattern. It’s not dystopian, but it is disorienting.
Without algorithms, our digital experiences would become static and manual. Every search would yield the same results for everyone, regardless of context or intent. You’d have to sift through pages of content to find what matters to you. There would be no curated playlists, no tailored news, no “you might also like” suggestions. The internet would feel like a vast, unindexed library—rich with possibility, but exhausting to navigate. Discovery would slow to a crawl, and serendipity would be replaced by sheer effort.
In daily life, the absence of algorithms would ripple outward. Traffic apps like Waze or Google Maps wouldn’t adapt to real-time conditions. Fraud detection systems wouldn’t flag suspicious transactions. Online shopping would lose its intuitive flow, forcing users to browse entire inventories without filters or recommendations. Even healthcare would feel the shift—AI-driven diagnostics and personalized treatment plans rely heavily on algorithmic analysis. Without it, medicine would revert to slower, less precise methods.
For creatives and educators, the loss would be equally profound. Writers would no longer benefit from predictive text or grammar suggestions. Designers would lose access to generative layouts and adaptive interfaces. Teachers and facilitators would have to manually track engagement, learning styles, and content pacing. Algorithms don’t replace intuition, but they do extend it—offering scaffolding, rhythm, and insight that help us shape more resonant experiences.
Emotionally, life without algorithms might feel quieter—but also lonelier. These systems, for better or worse, reflect our patterns. They learn what we linger on, what we ignore, what we crave. Without them, digital spaces would lose their sense of intimacy. You’d no longer receive birthday reminders, memory recaps, or curated tributes. The algorithmic pulse that mirrors your emotional rhythm would be gone, leaving behind a flat, unresponsive interface.
Yet there’s a paradox here. While algorithms offer convenience and connection, they also raise questions about autonomy, bias, and privacy concerns related to surveillance. Without them, we’d reclaim certain freedoms—freedom from manipulation, from echo chambers, from predictive nudges. But we’d also lose the scaffolding that helps us navigate complexity. The challenge, then, is not to erase algorithms, but to engage them consciously—to shape them with intention, critique them with care, and bend their logic toward human resonance.
In a world without algorithms, life would be slower, less curated, and more labor-intensive. But it would also be a mirror—revealing how deeply these systems have entwined themselves with our choices, our emotions, and our sense of self. To imagine their absence is to understand their presence. And that, perhaps, is the first step toward befriending them.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on European Film Festival in South Africa 2025
The 12th European Film Festival in South Africa is a cinematic journey in search of love, identity, family, and belonging. Ten contemporary European films reflect on the realities of Europe and its place in the world now. Their strong characters in unusual situations, carefully crafted stories, and breathtaking landscapes make these films a road trip for the heart and mind.
Participating countries are Belgium/Flanders, Denmark, France, Germany, Italy, The Netherlands, Poland, Portugal, Spain and the United Kingdom.
Live screenings take place at The Labia in Cape Town and The Bioscope and Nu Metro Hyde Park in Johannesburg. A curated selection of films will be streamed online in Southern Africa at www.eurofilmfest.co.za.
The Festival takes place from 9 to 19 October, 2025, with a smaller curated programme online in Southern Africa.
A Perfectly Normal Family (Denmark)
In urban Denmark, A Perfectly Normal Family redefines love and understanding when Emma’s father Thomas announces that he wants to become Agnetha. Father and daughter struggle to hold on to what they had while coming to terms with the fact that everything has changed. Emma’s life flips when her father, Thomas, comes out and transitions to Agnete. Through Emma’s perspective, the film explores identity, acceptance, and how a “perfectly normal” family redefines love and understanding.
Real Faces (Flanders, Belgium)
In Real Faces, Julia an ambitious casting agent, relocates to Brussels after a breakup. Struggling to build a new life, she masks her insecurities behind a façade of success and happiness. She meets reclusive microbiologist Eliott and forms an unexpected, authentic friendship that inspires her to break free from societal expectations. Julia, a 29‑year‑old casting agent in Brussels coping with post-breakup loneliness, meets Eliott, a reclusive microbiologist. Their authentic friendship spurs Julia’s journey toward self-discovery and escaping societal expectations. Directed by Leni Huyghe, the film premiered at SXSW 2025.
Le Mohican (France)
In Le Mohican, an unlikely hero, supported by his Corsican community, is on the run from the mafia and ruthless property developers who threaten to take his land. His resistance transforms him into a legend. Shepherd Joseph resists selling his coastal land to shady developers. After accidentally killing one aggressor, he becomes a fugitive traversing Corsica, evolving into a symbol of resilience—amplified through his niece Vannina’s tales.
Miroirs No. 3 (Germany)
From German filmmaker Christian Petzold comes Miroirs #.3, a haunting, character-driven exploration of loss, memory, and unexpected recovery when an accident survivor is taken in by a good Samaritan family. Laura, a pianist, survives a car crash that kills her boyfriend. She’s taken in by accident as a witness to Betty’s family—but what starts as refuge turns ominous as hidden motives bubble to the surface, forcing Laura to face unsettling truths.
Fuori (Italy)
Fuori, meaning “outside,” is written and directed by Mario Martone, about the controversial feminist writer Goliarda Sapienza. Set in the summer of the 1980s, the story takes place when the writer was jailed for a crazy and unforeseen incident. In prison, she forms an unusual and lasting bond with other inmates. Set in 1980, this biographical drama follows Italian writer Goliarda Sapienza during her imprisonment for theft. There, she forms a powerful bond with fellow female inmates, forging a transformative sisterhood and reclaiming her voice.
The North (Netherlands)
The North has been called “the best hiking movie to date” and the power of its energy – feel the wind, touch the water and endure the frustration of setting up a tent in a storm – underlies the journey of “humans who need to reconnect with nature, themselves and grow through friendships.” Set in the breathtaking mountains of the Scottish Highlands. Two longtime friends, Chris and Lluis, reunite after a decade for a 600 km hike through the Scottish Highlands—along the West Highland Way and Cape Wrath Trail. As they trek through breathtaking, unforgiving landscapes, they grapple with rekindled friendship, inner truths, and the restorative power of nature.
Under the Volcano (Poland)
In Under the Volcano, a summer vacation in Tenerife turns to chaos when a Ukrainian family learns about the invasion of their country. A Ukrainian family’s vacation in Tenerife turns to chaos when war breaks out. With their flight cancelled, they’re thrust from carefree tourists into refugees overnight—confronting fear, displacement, and shifting identities.
Great Yarmouth (Portugal/UK)
The film Great Yarmouth: Provisional Figures deals with travelling of a different kind – economic migrants and the fantasy of escaping one’s situation – it has been described as “a chilling exploration of modern servitude.” As Brexit approaches, Portuguese workers are flocking to Great Yarmouth. Tânia dreams of transforming her husband’s shabby hotel into elderly housing—but when a worker dies under murky circumstances and his brother arrives, her vision—and her loyalties—are challenged.
Sirât (Spain)
The brothers, Pedro and Agustín Almodóvar, are part of the producing team of Sirat, an unusual journey of a father accompanied by his son, searching for his daughter through the remote southern Moroccan desert; with the soundtrack leading the way in this ”odyssey between life and death.” In southern Morocco, Luis and his son Esteban search for their missing daughter Mar amid ravers and desert rites. Their journey turns surreal and spiritual, unravelling through music, sand, and existential longing—an odyssey between life and death.
Unicorns (United Kingdom)
In Unicorns, rising star Ben Hardy plays a mechanic and a single father who falls in love with a South Asian drag queen; a film which reminds us of what it takes to transform and cross borders, whether physical, mental, or spiritual. The directors are Sally El Hosaini and James Krishna Floyd. Luke meets Aysha (Jason Patel) in an underground nightclub and shares a spark-filled kiss—only to learn Aysha is a femme drag queen. As their bond deepens, both confront societal labels, domestic complications, and whether love can transcend traditional identities.
Live screenings take place at The Labia in Cape Town and The Bioscope and Nu Metro Hyde Park in Johannesburg. A curated selection of films will be streamed online in Southern Africa at www.eurofilmfest.co.za.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on The Threesome – Romance with sophistication, consequence, and realism
The Threesome (2025), directed by Chad Hartigan and written by Ethan Ogilby, is a romantic comedy-drama that explores the messy, tender terrain of desire and emotional accountability.
The film was inspired by writer Ethan Ogilby’s desire to explore romantic comedy through a more grounded, emotionally messy lens—one that reflects the complexities of modern relationships rather than idealised fantasy.
In interviews, director Chad Hartigan described the project as a response to the “rom-com renaissance,” noting that while many recent films lean into wish-fulfilment, The Threesome aims to depict romance with sophistication, consequence, and realism.
The script presented an opportunity to examine how intimacy, insecurity, and emotional maturity collide when fantasy meets fallout. Ogilby, known for his work on The Simpsons, infused the story with sharp wit and character-driven vulnerability, while Hartigan—whose previous films like Little Fish and Morris from America blend heart with nuance—was drawn to the challenge of portraying a threesome not as titillation, but as a catalyst for growth.
Together, they crafted a film that turns a provocative premise into a meditation on connection, accountability, and the awkward beauty of becoming.
The story follows Connor, a kind and unassuming young man, whose long-held crush on Olivia finally blossoms, only to be complicated by the unexpected presence of Jenny, a sweet and alluring stranger. What begins as a fantasy encounter quickly unravels into a journey of consequence, as all three characters must navigate the emotional fallout and confront the realities of adulthood.
With standout performances from Zoey Deutch, Jonah Hauer-King, and Ruby Cruz, the film balances screwball charm with introspective depth, offering a modern twist on romantic entanglement.
DIRECTOR’S STATEMENT
The romantic comedy is finally back! God, we were really sweating it there for a while, weren’t we? Absolutely crazy that we could ever turn our back on watching charming actors spar and fall in love with each other. That’s what the movie business was built on from day one! It’s been so heartening to see the renaissance in both the theatrical and streaming worlds for these films, but I can’t help but feel there’s still something missing. Romcoms tend to deal in wish fulfilment, skirting the edge of fantasy to show us an idealised version of love or romance, but back in the 1980s and 90s, iconic directors were finding ways to play in the genre in more grounded and elevated ways. I’m thinking of Mike Nichols (Working Girl), Cameron Crowe (Say Anything, Jerry Maguire) and James L. Brooks (Broadcast News and As Good As It Gets) just to name a few.
What’s the modern-day equivalent of those? Films that are genuinely romantic and funny, but populated with messy characters and complicated dynamics, dealing with grown-up issues and situations. A touch of melancholy to go with the sentimental. Now I’m not saying I’m anywhere in the same league as those greats, but when I first read Ethan Ogilby’s script for The Threesome, I saw my opportunity to attempt that type of romcom. Something that can tip its hat to the wholesome golden age while adding a distinctly contemporary sense of humour and point of view. It also didn’t hurt that I got the script in summer 2020, a few months deep into a global lockdown that had me retreating to all of my favourite comfort movies to get me through the uncertain days and nights. Then I was convinced that there may be nothing more noble in cinema than giving an audience an enjoyable 90 minutes to forget their problems (I still might be convinced of this).
Over the course of my career, I’ve tried to bounce around different genres and stories, but they always seem to retain one common denominator – characters that are simply trying their best to do the right thing. I find there to be such a beautiful dignity to it and always feels refreshing amongst a sea of films building conflict around bad faith actors. It’s a testament to Ethan that he’s able to mine so much friction from these characters while never judging any of them, and offering genuine surprises where others might have opted for standard beats. I felt like I had an idea of what I was going to be getting from a movie called The Threesome and then was given something much more sophisticated, tender and nuanced.
I hope to have translated that experience to the audience. I hope they are as enamored with the limitless talent of Zoey Deutch, Jonah Hauer-King and Ruby Cruz as I am. I hope they are as hungry for this type of film as I am. And I hope that maybe just one person throws it on for a rewatch twenty years from now when times are tough for them.
– Chad Hartigan
Chad Hartigan | Director
Chad Hartigan was born in Nicosia, Cyprus and attended the North Carolina School of the Arts, School of Filmmaking. His first feature as writer/director, LUKE AND BRIE ARE ON A FIRST DATE premiered at the Hamptons International Film Festival in 2008 and was remade for Latin American audiences in 2013 as LUNA EN LEO, which earned a Best Adapted Screenplay nomination at the Argentinian Oscars. His second feature, THIS IS MARTIN BONNER premiered at the 2013 Sundance Film Festival where it won the Audience Award for Best of NEXT and went on to also win the John Cassavetes Award at the 2014 Film Independent Spirit Awards. His third feature, MORRIS FROM AMERICA premiered at the 2016 Sundance Film Festival where it won the Waldo Salt Screenwriting Award and a Special Jury Prize for Acting. It was released by A24, garnering nominations at the Film Independent Spirit Awards, the Gotham Awards and a special citation by the National Board of Review. His fourth feature, LITTLE FISH, a romance set during a fictional pandemic, was ironically delayed due to a very real pandemic and released by IFC Films in 2021 to critical acclaim. THE THREESOME is his fifth feature.
Ethan Ogilby | Writer
THE THREESOME is Ethan Ogilby’s first produced screenplay. And, no, it is not based on a true story. He also sold a pilot to ABC Studios that he co-wrote with his wife, who works as a labor & delivery nurse, and the script is inspired by her experiences on that job. Despite Ruben Fleischer being attached to direct and Dave Bernard producing, that show has yet to reach the promised land. Ethan is also a onetime Emmy winner and three-time nominee for his producing work on the Netflix docuseries REMASTERED. Technically it’s a News & Documentary Emmy, but plenty of people like Ethan’s mom know that’s “actually the best kind.” He hails from small town Maine, studied writing at Johns Hopkins University in Baltimore, and is a father to twin toddlers. He is represented by CAA and Lichter, Grossman.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Worlds Apart, Woven Together: The Hidden Kinship of Dissonant Films
At first glance, cinema appears to be a constellation of isolated worlds—Victorian manors, dystopian wastelands, suburban kitchens, alien planets.
Genres divide, aesthetics clash, and tones diverge.
Yet beneath the surface, films that seem to speak in different tongues often pulse with shared thematic rhythms. The costume drama and the horror thriller, the sci-fi epic and the kitchen-sink realist piece—they may wear different skins, but they often wrestle with the same ghosts.
One is steeped in aristocratic ritual, the other in brutal futurism. Yet both interrogate systems of control: the former through inherited class structures, the latter through state-imposed spectacle. In each, characters navigate obedience, legacy, and the quiet rebellion of emotional truth. The drawing room and the death march become parallel arenas for existential negotiation.
This thematic echoing is no accident
Thematic echoing is a quiet architecture beneath the surface of great writing—a resonance that deepens meaning, binds disparate scenes, and invites readers into a layered emotional experience.
For writers, it’s not just a stylistic flourish but a structural and spiritual compass.
When a motif, question, or emotional truth recurs across chapters, characters, or genres, it creates a sense of cohesion that transcends plot.
A broken mirror in chapter one might reappear as a metaphor for fractured identity in chapter ten.
A whispered phrase in a love story might resurface in a moment of grief, reframing its meaning.
These echoes allow writers to compress complexity, to say more with less, and to guide readers toward insight without overt instruction.
They also honour the cyclical nature of human experience—how themes like belonging, loss, or transformation ripple through different lives and moments.
In a world of fragmented attention, thematic echoing offers continuity, a pulse beneath the prose that reminds us: this story is not just a sequence of events, but a meditation on something deeper.
Filmmakers, consciously or not, tap into archetypal tensions—freedom vs. duty, identity vs. conformity, memory vs. erasure. These tensions transcend genre.
A romantic comedy may explore the same longing for authenticity as a psychological thriller. A war film and a family drama may both hinge on the trauma of silence and the weight of unspoken history.
Visual language often disguises these connections. A pastel palette may soften the blow of grief; handheld camerawork may amplify intimacy in both horror and documentary. But when stripped to their narrative bones, films often ask: Who am I within this system? What does it cost to belong? What does it mean to resist?
Pairing unlikely films —say, Moonlight and Blade Runner 2049, or Parasite and The Remains of the Day—can illuminate shared emotional architecture. Both Moonlight and Blade Runner 2049 explore constructed identity and the ache of memory. Both Parasite and Remains dissect class performance and the violence of politeness.
For educators, curators, and cinephiles, this cross-genre threading is a tool of transformation.
It invites viewers to look beyond surface and style, to excavate the soul beneath the spectacle. It also democratizes taste—reminding us that meaning is not confined to prestige or pulp, but emerges wherever human truth is compressed into story.
In a fractured world, this cinematic kinship offers a quiet kind of hope. That even across genre, culture, and tone, we are wrestling with the same questions.
That every film, no matter how dissonant, might be part of a larger conversation about what it means to live, to choose, to remember.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Emily – The imagined life of one of the world’s most famous authors, Emily Brontë
“Emily Brontë is fierce, rebellious, sensitive, creative, and magical,” says writer-director Frances O’Connor, who makes her directorial debut with Emily from her own original screenplay, a project she has been developing the past decade. “I think she’s the most neglected sister. There’s a core group of hardcore fans who love Emily because she’s a bit of a rebel and a misfit and she’d probably be a goth or something these days, I think.”
“I’ve always loved the Brontë’s”, says Frances O’Connor, an Australian-English actress living in London. “I’ve always loved ‘Wuthering Heights’ and ‘Jane Eyre’ particularly. When I was doing my first international film, (starring in Jane Austen’s ‘Mansfield Park’), after we wrapped, I took the opportunity to go up to Yorkshire for the first time and visit Haworth and it was so evocative. I walked out on the moors and thought ‘Oh, I’d love to write something one day’ and then I just forgot about it for ages and followed my path as an actress. Eventually, I really wanted to start telling my own stories, so I went back to the idea of this.”
“There were certain things in Emily’s life that I identified with in mine,” says O’Connor, “Certain things that I think thematically are part of ‘Wuthering Heights’ and her life that I also relate to, and I think a lot of women would relate to, so the idea came from that.”
Emily tells the imagined life of one of the world’s most famous authors, Emily Brontë. The film stars Emma Mackey (Sex Education, Death on the Nile) as Emily, a rebel and misfit, as she finds her voice and writes the literary classic ‘Wuthering Heights’. EMILY explores the relationships that inspired her – her raw, passionate sisterhood with Charlotte (Alexandra Dowling – The Musketeers) and Anne (Amelia Gething – The Spanish Princess); her first aching, forbidden love for Weightman (Oliver Jackson-Cohen – The Lost Daughter, The Haunting of Bly Manor) and her care for her maverick brother Branwell (Fionn Whitehead – The Duke, Dunkirk), whom she idolises.
You can watch the film Emily on several platforms depending on your region:
🌍 Internationally: Emily is available to stream on Netflix, where it’s listed under drama and period pieces.
🇬🇧 United Kingdom: It’s available for digital rental or purchase on platforms like Amazon Prime Video, Apple TV, and YouTube.
📚 Library Access: If you have access to Kanopy, [Hoopla], or [VUDU], the film may be available for free streaming through participating libraries.
Crafting the Screenplay for Emily
In writing the script for Emily, O’Connor has blended historical accuracy about the Brontë’s lives with Emily Brontë’s imagined world, so the story becomes “half her life, half ‘Wuthering Heights’ – and a little bit of things from my life,” she says. “I could’ve told a story that was a straight biography, but I felt like that’s been done. I was more interested in finding a way to celebrate who Emily is, that’s connected to ‘Wuthering Heights’ and is more strongly narrative in a way that is a little like a fairytale.”
Bringing Emily Brontë to life on screen is Emma Mackey (Sex Education, Death on the Nile) who notes that, “Emily was intuitive, inquisitive, observant, imaginative, bold, creative, and quietly intelligent”.
“What struck me about this script”, notes producer Piers Tempest, “Is that it really imagined and captured the spirit and the essence of how Emily could’ve been, because it was such a surprise that a book of such intensity and passion (‘Wuthering Heights’) was written by her.” Tempest read the script for Emily in September 2019 on the plane home from the Toronto Film Festival and was instantly impressed with the world Frances O’Connor had created. “Emily is such an interesting character, there must have been so much going on in her mind and I think Frances has brilliantly and expertly woven the facts that we know about Emily and the Brontë’s, with her imagined process and inspirations for writing the book.”
Emily begins with a newcomer arriving in Haworth, clergyman William Weightman (who incidentally was a real person and is played here by Oliver Jackson-Cohen), who not only immediately disrupts proceedings but causes emotional ripples that gather momentum as the story unfolds. He brings with him this “very exciting, quite modern energy” says Jackson-Cohen of Weightman. “The way he approaches sermons is different to how it’s been done in the past, and there hasn’t been a young clergyman in the parish for a very long time. He comes into Haworth and changes the dynamic there entirely.” This is especially true when it comes to the Brontë sisters, who seem enraptured – though not Emily, initially. “She sees through his bullshit,” smiles Jackson-Cohen. But the ground shifts again when Weightman is tasked with giving Emily French lessons. “There’s this incredible tension (between Weightman and Emily) that Frances plays with,” he explains, “that eventually blossoms into a relationship, ultimately at great cost to both of them.”
“More broadly Emily is about a woman, a coming-of-age story”, says Alexandra Dowling who plays Charlotte Brontë. “It’s about a woman finding herself and her authentic voice and power in the world.”
The way the film humanises the Brontës so well and shows their faults was a strong draw for Fionn Whitehead, who plays Branwell Brontë. “It’s unflinching in their portrayals and it’s based in fact, but also partly fiction and that gives it a lot of room to play with different things and craft these engaging stories about these people’s lives,” he suggests.
“I knew about the Brontës of course, I’d read ‘Wuthering Heights’ and ‘Jane Eyre’ years ago,” says Emma Mackey, who plays the eponymous lead, “but I didn’t know that much about Emily. She is almost the lesser known of the three, because she wasn’t very public and there’s not an awful lot of information about her, so people like to conjure up and fabricate and imagine the life that she might have had. This film is a version of that, from Frances’s mind.”
“Often, these tellings of Emily Brontë and the sisters’ lives are just about the books that they’ve written,” says Amelia Gething, who plays Anne Brontë. “This film is showing their actual, day to day lives and obviously it’s an imagined life, because we don’t know exactly what they went through and what they did, but it covers their life at the parsonage and what they did on the moors – it shows that they can just be fun and silly too, instead of only being seen as serious writers.”
“There is inevitably pressure when you’re playing a person who existed,” adds Emma Mackey, “but as it’s not a completely factual biopic or a biography of Emily Brontë, it’s a story, so the pressure is taken off in that regard.”
Blending the real and the imagined of Emily Brontë’s life has precedent; when she died, her sister Charlotte famously retold Emily’s life as seen through her own perspective. “I think Charlotte did actually re-write her (Emily’s) narrative when she was alive and when she (Emily) was dead,” explains Frances O’Connor, “and I just wanted to make a film that re-dressed the balance and really put Emily at the middle of it, looking at who she was in a way that was very full and celebratory.”
As the actor playing Charlotte Brontë, Alexandra Dowling says she was intrigued by “the idea of Charlotte being controlling; she (Charlotte) definitely re-edited a lot of Emily’s letters after she died. There’s still a lot of mystery around the relationship but I think Frances’s script really held the complexity of that sibling rivalry and mistrust but also the deep love, adoration and affection they had, too.”
“The Brontë family are shrouded in mystery!” continues Emma Mackey, “They’re sort of the untouchable sisters, especially Emily. She’s called ‘the Sphinx of English literature’, this mysterious figure, and what I do like is that we’re fleshing her out and giving her a character, a personality and a voice and making her a living, breathing woman, as opposed to this figure from history.”
Aside from taking on the mantle of the Brontë legacy with her script, Frances O’Connor wanted to be the one to visualise her story, by directing Emily as well. Turns out timing can be everything.
“I knew I wanted to write, and I’ve always wanted to try directing,” says O’Connor, “In the last five years, I’ve felt this yearning to expand beyond being an actor and tell my whole story. It coincided with my asking if I could direct it and the producers were into it. It also coincided with the #MeToo movement happening and a lot of women getting the opportunity to have their voices heard, whereas maybe five years ago I wouldn’t have had that opportunity.”
“You have to let the actors have freedom but you also have to guide them”, says O’Connor of developing her directing style. “I found it was really helpful being an actor as well as a director, because you understand very deeply what it’s like to be inside the process, so there are moments where you let your actors have space to be in the moment and there are times where you come in and help steer it. I felt like I learned a lot during the process of directing – at times I thought I’d just let them go and see what happened. Sometimes, I’d have the thought ‘oh it’d be nice if the actor did this’ and then they would do it on the next take; I just needed to give them time to get there, so it was a really interesting process.”
As for the logistics of filming amidst Coronavirus, producer Piers Tempest says the whole cast and crew found their way. “The pandemic of 2020 / 2021 has affected all films, it’s changed the way we work and the systems in place, and it’s really had an impact on the creative process. Luckily with Emily, a lot of the film takes place outside, which is good and we were filming in quite remote locations, so that takes the risk down a little bit when shooting during Coronavirus. This is actually the fourth film that I’ve made during the pandemic, so we know what we’re doing now in terms of our testing processes. It’s really about trying to give as much creative freedom to the director as possible, whilst keeping everyone safe and following the guidelines.”
The second youngest of the Brontë children, Emily was born in 1818, and lived with her family at Haworth in Yorkshire, with the moors on their doorstep. The family suffered a great tragedy with the death of Emily’s mother in 1821, followed by the deaths of the two eldest Brontë siblings, Maria and Elizabeth in 1825, who both died from tuberculosis after becoming ill while away at boarding school in Wakefield. Maria lived to be just 11 years old and Elizabeth was 10 years-old when she died.
Charlotte and brother Branwell, along with Anne (the youngest in the family) would all join Emily as writers, having all created stories practically as soon as they learned to read. The surviving three Brontë sisters would all publish their first novels in the same year, 1847; Charlotte with ‘Jane Eyre’, Emily with ‘Wuthering Heights’, and Anne with ‘Agnes Grey’.
WRITER/DIRECTOR – FRANCES O’CONNOR EMILY is the directorial debut for Frances O’Connor. She is an Australian-English actress living in London who is best known for her roles of ‘Fanny Price’ & ‘Gwendolen Fairfax’ in the films MANSFIELD PARK alongside Hugh Bonneville and Harold Pinter, & THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING EARNEST alongside Judi Dench & Colin Firth and the TV series’, Madame Bovary and The Missing.
Her performance in both shows earned her a Golden Globe nomination for Best Actress.
Following her critically acclaimed film debut in Emma-Kate Croghan’s LOVE & OTHER CATASTROPHES and award-winning performance in Bill Bennett’s KISS OR KILL, O’Connor’s film credits include THANK GOD HE MET LIZZIE alongside Cate Blanchett, Harold Ramis’s BEDAZZLED and the leading role of ‘Monica Swinton’ in Steven SPIELBERG’S A.I. ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE. Further film credits include her AACTA award-winning performance in Ana Kokinnos’s BLESSED, THE HUNTER opposite Willem Defoe, and WINDTALKERS opposite Nicolas Cage, and James Wan’s THE CONJURING 2.
O’Connor will next be seen in the upcoming ten-part Sky Drama The End created by Samantha Strauss alongside Harriet Walter. Her TV credits also include ITV’s Mr Selfridge, Troy: Fall of A City for BBC, Cleverman for ABC and Sundance, Iron Jawed Angels opposite Hillary Swank for HBO. Her work on stage includes the West End production of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof with Brendan Fraser, Ned Beaty, by Tennesse Williams, Tom and Viv at the Almeida theatre by Michael Hastings and the West End production of Florian Zeller’s The Truth.
Why did you want to bring Downton Abbey back for a third film?
At the end of the second film, we said goodbye to the beloved Violet. We wanted to make the point that this may be the end of a family member, but it wasn’t the end of the family. I also wanted to show that families like the Crawleys who survived into the modern world, had to redefine themselves, get used to the new way of things and see if they could live with it. Some rather spectacularly could not, but I would like to feel that the Crawleys are one of the surviving families who have come to terms with the modern world.
Where do we find the Crawley family and the staff at the start of the film?
The Crawleys are doing pretty well. Despite the changing times, they are still a great family living in a great house. There is an air of change in their relationships with their servants and with ordinary people living in the village. The two world wars brought about a narrowing of the gap in the human experience and the aristocratic families were facing the wrong way in history after both wars. The film touches upon these changing times. One of the storylines in the film is Mary getting a divorce, and what I hope will surprise audiences is the extent to which divorce was not accepted until much later.
How does Mary’s divorce affect the household?
A divorce was a rather dramatic way of showing a household or a family that they were living in a different world and that things had changed. It just wasn’t acceptable. They would present to the outside world that everyone was frightfully happy and the reality of what was going on behind that façade was concealed. Divorce makes all that very public because before the age of divorce, no one would know anything about the upper classes and that was how they liked it. They didn’t mind being envied, what they didn’t want was to be pitied.
There’s a real sense of the handing over of roles to the next generation in the film. Will they be able to fill the shoes of their predecessors?
Every generation reinvents how these great houses are lived in, and so Andy, who takes over from Carson, will find a different way of being the butler. He will not have a footman to help, and they won’t be coming back. Likewise, the kitchen maids are gone, and Daisy will take over from Mrs Patmore without the help of an army of maids behind her. That whole way of life had to be reinvented. When I was a young man, the ‘London Season’ still existed with debutante balls, and I took part in it all. I loved it, but when it was abolished, it was gone for good. That’s just life. We invent things, we enjoy them for a time, and then they’re over, or we do them differently, and that’s what we’re trying to say about Downton. It will go on, but not in the same way we saw it in 1912. That way of life has gone now, and something different will replace it.
What impact did American sensibilities have in England at that time?
I’ve always believed that the Americans from the 1890s had a big influence on the privileged classes in Britain. Most of the ‘dollar princesses’ came after the Civil War in America when great fortunes had been gained and to have a daughter who was married into the English aristocracy was considered very smart. American women were not taught as the British young women were, which was to sit in silence waiting to be talked to, keeping your opinions to yourself. The Americans didn’t believe in that at all. They had opinions and expressed them in a way that English women didn’t, and so they loosened up society in a way.
Why did you choose to include Noel Coward in the story and what does the character bring to the film?
I discovered that Noel Coward’s play, BITTER SWEET, opened in London in 1930. He captured the mood of the period he was living in perfectly in his plays. He understood who his audience was and knew exactly what they wanted. I felt he was a good expression of the direction the world was heading in. He understood what entertained his audiences, what frightened them and the changes that were coming. I liked his wit and felt he would bring a benevolent modernity to the Crawleys that didn’t threaten them. Coward liked these great houses and the families that lived in them, but it didn’t change the fact that they weren’t modern, and he was. I liked that sense of commentary.
Why was it important to include a social event like Ascot in the film?
When I was in my 20s and 30s Ascot was such a fashionable event in the social calendar, and everyone attended. It was a final expression of the class-layered society where there was a group at the top who were high society. Then, the group underneath wanted to be part of the layer above but never could. Then there was a bottom layer who didn’t much care where they were in society but still attended. What was unusual about Ascot was there was a place for all these different layers of society at this one event. It was an expression of class-led Britain and fun to include in the film because it was the start of society beginning to disintegrate. It also allowed us to show that Lady Mary couldn’t enter the Royal Enclosure because divorce kept her at bay. I wanted to show that as a moment when the upper classes, as a social group, had to accept that it was time to move on from these antiquated behaviours. Mary and Edith, as younger members of the family, have much less trouble addressing this and accepting it than their father.
What first inspired you to create Downton Abbey?
I’d written a film called Gosford Park, which was set around a shooting party in 1932. It included the servants of the house, plus the guests and their servants. The producer, Gareth Neame, asked me if I’d consider writing about that territory for television. Gosford Park is quite a dark film and most of the characters are not happy, but it did very well, and I’m pleased to say I won the Oscar for writing it. However, initially, I didn’t think people would come back once a week to be depressed. I realised that we had to live in a different version of that same world and wanted a group of people who had been born to varied circumstances, more varied below-stairs than above. That allowed me to exercise my prejudices, which are that most people are trying to do their best. I think that gave the series a kind of upward energy as opposed to a downward energy, which served us well.
Did you have any idea that Downton would run for so long and that it would resonate with so many people around the world?
The short answer to that is, of course not. We were making a show at a time when most people thought period drama was dead and there was no real audience for it anymore. Happily, the head of drama at ITV, Peter Fincham, didn’t believe that. He ordered a pilot straight away, and then he commissioned it. We started to assemble the cast, and I think, looking back, the fact that we got our first choices on all of the cast should have been an indicator that we were onto something because it was extraordinary. Maggie Smith had never been in an ongoing series, but once we got Maggie, Hugh Bonneville and Jim Carter, it was clear that we were going to attract a great cast. That was very important to us because it meant that our guest stars were going to be first-class as well. We had one or two early hints that we had made something special when normally the second episode dips in terms of its audience numbers, but we grew ours by a million. From then on, the numbers kept going up and up, and I knew we’d made a jolly good show. The great surprise came four months later when it was shown in America in huge numbers, and they adored it. The American audience changed everything, and suddenly, we were showing all over the world. Now, it feels quite complete. I’m not saying we’ll never see Downton Abbey in any other form – one should never say never, but I think it feels natural and right that we have made the journey with the original concept and the original cast, so I’m rather pleased about that.
Julian Alexander Kitchener-Fellowes, Baron Fellowes of West Stafford, is a British writer, actor, director, and peer whose career spans literature, film, television, and theatre. Born on August 17, 1949, in Cairo, Egypt, where his father served as a diplomat, Fellowes was educated at Ampleforth College and Magdalene College, Cambridge, before training at the Webber Douglas Academy of Dramatic Art.
He began his career as a character actor, appearing in numerous British television series and films throughout the 1970s and 1980s, but it was his pivot to screenwriting that brought him international acclaim. His breakthrough came with Gosford Park (2001), for which he won the Academy Award for Best Original Screenplay.
Fellowes is best known as the creator and writer of Downton Abbey (2010–2015), the globally celebrated period drama that earned him multiple Emmy Awards and cemented his reputation as a master of class-conscious storytelling.
He has also written and directed films such as Separate Lies (2005) and penned screenplays for The Young Victoria (2009) and The Chaperone (2018). In addition to his screen work, Fellowes has authored novels including Snobs and Past Imperfect, and contributed to stage musicals like Mary Poppins and School of Rock. Elevated to the House of Lords in 2011, he continues to blend aristocratic insight with dramatic flair, crafting narratives that explore the tensions between tradition and transformation.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Feed the Flame: Why Research is the Writer’s Deepest Ritual
Before a writer can shape truth into a story, they must first gather the fragments that make truth visible. Research is not a chore—it is the sacred act of feeding your talent, of stimulating intuition with fact, and imagination with idea.
The hardest part of writing is not the sentence itself, but knowing what the sentence must convey. Research gives you that weight. It equips you with knowledge, context, and choice. Whether you’re crafting fiction, teaching, or curating communal memory, the effort to acquire information is what transforms impulse into intention.
This feature explores why research is not just preparation—it is the writer’s deepest ritual of responsibility, resonance, and renewal
To write with clarity, conviction, and resonance, one must first feed the talent that fuels the page. Talent alone is not enough—it must be nourished, provoked, and sharpened by facts, ideas, and lived textures.
Research is the act of gathering that nourishment. It is the quiet, deliberate process of collecting fragments—data, stories, images, histories—that will later form the scaffolding of meaning. Whether you’re writing fiction, memoir, criticism, or curriculum, the hardest part is often knowing what to write.
Research doesn’t just provide answers; it reveals the questions worth asking. It transforms vague impulse into focused intention.
By immersing yourself in the world—through books, interviews, archives, observation—you begin to acquire the raw material that gives shape to your voice. This is not passive absorption; it is active excavation.
You must take time and effort to acquire knowledge, not just for accuracy, but for depth. The writer who researches writes from a position of choice rather than default, of responsibility rather than assumption.
Every detail gathered becomes a tool of precision, every fact a potential metaphor. Research allows you to move beyond cliché and generalisation, to write with specificity and soul. It is the difference between gesturing at truth and actually touching it.
What matters is the hunger to know more, to see more, to feel more.
Because when you gather material with intention, you begin to write not just from talent, but from knowledge. And knowledge, unlike inspiration, is renewable. It allows you to return to the page with new angles, new rhythms, new authority.
Research is not a detour from creativity—it is its engine. It gives you the power to compress complexity into clarity, to transform silence into story.
In the end, the writer who researches is not just informed—they are empowered. They write with the weight of understanding and the freedom of choice. They write not just to express, but to illuminate.
The Write Journey course places research at the heart of its creative philosophy, treating it not as a preliminary step but as a generative force. Writers are guided to see research as a form of deep listening—an invitation to engage with the world’s textures, histories, and emotional truths before shaping their own. Whether exploring personal narrative, character development, or thematic resonance, the course encourages writers to gather material from diverse sources: interviews, archives, sensory observation, and cultural inquiry. This process not only equips them with factual grounding but also expands their imaginative range. By rooting creative choices in research, The Write Journey empowers writers to operate from a place of intentionality and responsibility—where every sentence is informed, every story is accountable, and every voice is enriched by the voices that came before.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on The SpongeBob Movie: Search for SquarePants
The SpongeBob Movie: Search for SquarePants is an upcoming animated adventure comedy directed by Derek Drymon and written by Pam Brady and Matt Lieberman, with a story developed by Brady alongside longtime SpongeBob SquarePants creatives Marc Ceccarelli and Kaz.
The film marks the fourth instalment in the SpongeBob movie franchise and continues the legacy of the beloved television series created by Stephen Hillenburg. Drymon, a veteran of the series who has worked closely with Hillenburg since its inception, brings decades of experience and deep familiarity with the underwater world of Bikini Bottom to the director’s chair. His previous work includes directing Hotel Transylvania 4: Transformania, and his return to the SpongeBob universe is both a homecoming and a creative evolution.
The inspiration for Search for SquarePants stems from the enduring popularity of the SpongeBob franchise and its ability to reinvent itself while staying true to its quirky, heartfelt roots. This instalment takes SpongeBob on a journey to the deepest depths of the ocean to confront the ghostly Flying Dutchman, voiced by Mark Hamill, in a storyline that blends classic nautical folklore with the show’s signature absurdist humour.
The creative team aimed to explore new emotional and visual territory while honoring the series’ long-standing traditions. In interviews, Drymon has emphasized the importance of maintaining the “26-year-old rules” of animating SpongeBob, preserving the character’s timeless appeal while pushing the boundaries of storytelling and animation.
The significance of Search for SquarePants lies in its role as both a nostalgic tribute and a bold step forward for the franchise. As streaming platforms reshape how audiences engage with animated content, this film reaffirms SpongeBob’s place on the big screen, offering a cinematic experience that appeals to longtime fans and new viewers alike. The inclusion of high-profile voice talent such as George Lopez, Ice Spice, Regina Hall, and Arturo Castro alongside the original cast adds a fresh dynamic to the ensemble, expanding the cultural reach of the film. Moreover, the narrative’s deeper themes—identity, courage, and the search for meaning—resonate beyond the slapstick, giving the film emotional weight without sacrificing its playful tone.
Drymon’s direction ensures that the film remains visually inventive and emotionally grounded, while Brady and Lieberman’s screenplay balances humor with heart. Their collaboration reflects a broader trend in animation toward more sophisticated storytelling that doesn’t talk down to its audience. By revisiting the Flying Dutchman, a fan-favorite character, and placing SpongeBob in a high-stakes quest, the film taps into the mythic structure of hero’s journey tales, reimagined through the lens of Bikini Bottom’s surreal charm.
Ultimately, The SpongeBob Movie: Search for SquarePants stands as a testament to the franchise’s longevity and creative vitality. It celebrates the absurd, the sincere, and the sponge at the center of it all—reminding audiences why SpongeBob continues to be one of the most beloved animated characters of all time.
Derek Drymon is an American animator, writer, director, and producer best known for his foundational work on SpongeBob SquarePants. Born on November 19, 1968, in Morristown, New Jersey, Drymon studied illustration at the School of Visual Arts in New York before launching his animation career with Nickelodeon in the early 1990s. He contributed to Rocko’s Modern Life before teaming up with Stephen Hillenburg to help develop SpongeBob, serving as creative director and supervising producer during its early seasons. Drymon’s influence shaped the show’s visual style and comedic tone, and he later expanded his portfolio with work on Adventure Time, Hotel Transylvania: Transformania, and several DreamWorks animated features. In 2025, he returned to helm The SpongeBob Movie: Search for SquarePants, reaffirming his legacy as one of the franchise’s key creative architects.
Pam Brady is a prolific American screenwriter and producer known for her sharp wit and genre-defying projects. She rose to prominence through her collaborations with Trey Parker and Matt Stone, contributing to South Park and co-writing South Park: Bigger, Longer & Uncut and Team America: World Police. Brady’s career spans television and film, with credits including Hot Rod, Hamlet 2, and the Netflix comedy Lady Dynamite, which she co-created with Mitch Hurwitz. Her writing blends absurdist humour with emotional nuance, often pushing boundaries in both animated and live-action formats. In 2025, she co-wrote The SpongeBob Movie: Search for SquarePants, bringing her irreverent sensibility to the beloved underwater universe. Brady continues to be a driving force in comedy, known for her fearless storytelling and inventive voice.
Matt Lieberman is an American screenwriter whose work bridges family entertainment and high-concept comedy. A graduate of NYU’s Tisch School of the Arts, Lieberman began his career in the Walt Disney Feature Writer’s Program and quickly made a name for himself with spec scripts that landed on the Black List, including Free Guy, which became a hit starring Ryan Reynolds. His other credits include The Christmas Chronicles, Scoob!, and The Addams Family (2019), showcasing his knack for crafting imaginative, accessible stories with broad appeal. Lieberman’s writing often features inventive premises and heartfelt character arcs, making him a sought-after voice in contemporary screenwriting. His collaboration with Pam Brady on The SpongeBob Movie: Search for SquarePants adds another layer of creative energy to the franchise’s latest installment.
Marc Ceccarelli is an Emmy and BAFTA-winning animator, writer, and producer who has played a central role in shaping the modern era of SpongeBob SquarePants. Born on January 4, 1968, in Bakersfield, California, Ceccarelli joined the show in 2011 and quickly rose through the ranks, becoming showrunner and executive producer. His work has extended to spin-offs like Kamp Koral and The Patrick Star Show, where he served as developer and producer. Ceccarelli’s storytelling is marked by its surreal humor, visual inventiveness, and deep understanding of the SpongeBob universe. His leadership has helped maintain the show’s cultural relevance while expanding its reach across platforms and generations.
Kaz, born Kazimieras Gediminas Prapuolenis on July 31, 1959, is an American cartoonist, illustrator, and television writer known for his edgy, underground comic sensibility and contributions to mainstream animation. A graduate of the School of Visual Arts in New York, Kaz gained early recognition through comic anthologies like RAW and Weirdo, and his long-running strip Underworld. He transitioned into television with writing and storyboard work on shows like Camp Lazlo, Phineas and Ferb, and SpongeBob SquarePants, where his offbeat humour and visual style found a perfect match. Kaz’s work is distinguished by its anarchic energy and satirical bite, making him a unique voice in both alternative comics and animated television.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Song Sung Blue: The Real-Life Love Story Behind the Music
From writer and director Craig Brewer comes a sweeping epic about the profound romantic and creative partnership between two down-on-their-luck musicians who prove that it’s never too late to find love and chase your dreams.
Based on a true story, Song Sung Blue follows Mike and Claire as they become Lightning and Thunder, a joyous Neil Diamond tribute band that takes them from a small garage to dive bar glory to an unlikely Milwaukee stardom defined by their moving devotion to one another and the raucous power of “Sweet Caroline.” But when tragedy strikes and plunges them to the bottom, it’s the revelatory power of their love — for music and for each other — that binds the pair, provides a way forward, and ultimately helps them remember one another.
When Mike Sardina (Hugh Jackman) meets Claire Stengl (Kate Hudson), he’s a small-time musician on the gigging circuit. A recovering alcoholic and Vietnam vet, Mike moonlights as a mechanic to support what he really loves most: to play music and perform, no matter how big the crowd, no matter how empty the dive bar. When he sees Claire up on stage in her Patsy Cline act, he spots the same passion in her, and they discover a cosmic kinship that begins a love story found both on and off a shared stage.
The Origin Story
When Craig Brewer first watched Song Sung Blue, the 2008 documentary directed by Greg Kohs, at the Indie Memphis Film Festival, he had been entirely unfamiliar with the subjects at its heart. The story it told, about the moving, unpredictable joys and sorrows that come to rock a real-life Milwaukee couple who form a Neil Diamond tribute band, would stick with him for the next 15 years. But at the time, he had simply stepped into the theater out of blind curiosity.
“I remember so clearly thinking that this is the kind of story that, if ever I were given a chance, I would understand how to make into a movie for a mass audience,” the filmmaker recalls. “Because as much as I know that there’s plenty of moments in the movie that one could call tragic, I still felt very inspired by their love story. I felt a connection not only to the characters, but to the filmmaker who made the movie.”
He was struck by the story extending beyond the documentary’s subjects and that was deeply familiar to himself as an indie filmmaker: a small movie at a small festival about small-time musicians who believed in bigger dreams — and would continue on in that relentless pursuit.
“On so many levels I just felt like it was for me,” Brewer says. “I understood where the filmmaker probably was, dedicating so much of his life to trying to tell this story. It was a comparable connection to Mike and Claire’s story because they too put all their time and energy into this band. And it’s not the story where suddenly they get the big record contract. That’s not usually the tale that is told about a majority of artists.”
It was instead the kind of trajectory whose big-screen potential was entirely legible to Brewer, whose films have often revolved around the working class. What he saw in Mike and Claire was, in short, a version of the kind of story that the director has often gravitated toward: specific people from specific places, striving for something bigger.
But it wasn’t until years later that Brewer would return to the idea, after 2019’s Dolemite Is My Name. Following that film’s success, its producer, John Davis, wanted to team back up with Brewer and asked him for ideas.
“He sits down with me and he goes, ‘You’re not going to want to do it, but I have a movie I want to do.’ And he pitches me this story,” Davis recalls. “I said, ‘Let’s go do it.’”
Davis immediately bought into Brewer’s story of this couple who found and defined their own version of the American Dream, against all odds. “It’s a story of these two people that wanted to do something, and they did it on their own terms, they did it in their own community, they did it in their own way. It was really beautiful,” Davis says. “It’s about ordinary people finding their big dreams and being able to live them out in whatever fishbowl they get to live them out in.”
That spirit of wild dreamers spoke personally to Brewer. “I’m always fascinated with mad men, especially mad men in music,” Brewer says. “And I saw that in Mike: a little bit of madness in his eyes, thinking, ‘I’m going to be the biggest Neil Diamond impersonator, I’m going to be a star with this.’ I was envious of it. I’ve always admired people who can really silence not only the doubters in their life, but the biggest of all doubters — ourselves — and just blindly go after something with everything that they’ve got.”
In Song Sung Blue, the narrative feature adaptation that Brewer would ultimately come to write and direct, Mike (Hugh Jackman) and Claire Sardina (Kate Hudson) are driven most of all by their pure passion for music, as they come to form the Neil Diamond tribute band known as Lightning and Thunder. An epic love story fueled by triumph, tragedy, and the songs of an American legend, the film follows the pair as they find each other late in life and take their act from a small garage to the biggest stages in Milwaukee.
“It’s a working-class fairytale,” says Jackman, who, in arguably his most ambitious performance yet, plays Mike. “You’ve got two working-class people trying to get by, working two or three jobs, all the while harboring this dream to be up there on stage, where they feel most alive. It’s a fairytale because they hold their dream so tightly and with so much faith and hope and confidence that it comes true. But it’s not a straight line to fame and success.”
Indeed Mike and Claire’s underdog successes are defined as much by stumbles to the bottom, a sprawlingly affecting journey that Brewer traced after talking to the real-life Claire Sardina, along with her daughter Rachel (Ella Anderson) and son Dayna (Hudson Henley).
“I would do these Zoom calls with them, and I got a lot of story that was not in the documentary, little teeny things that became bigger scenes and bigger moments,” Brewer recalls.
Through these memories, he wrote a script that he explained would not be an exacting account of their lives, but instead the kind of big-screen adaptation that spoke to the soul and inspiration of their story. “I told them, it’s like I’m writing a song and I would love your help in making sure that I at least have the heart,” Brewer says. “They were all very supportive of that. And when they read the script, they felt it.”
The heart of that song is in Mike and Claire’s steadfast love for each other, a dedication that ultimately comes to carry them through sudden tragedy.
It’s from there, in their darkest hour, that Song Sung Blue turns hardship into the larger-than-life story of Lightning and Thunder.
Amid heartbreak and life’s unexpected turns, Song Sung Blue is ultimately a story powered by love and the joy of chasing after dreams hand in hand with the ones you love most. From the spark of Neil Diamond’s songs sung in the bars and clubs of Milwaukee, to Mike and Claire’s devotion that carries them through the highs and lows, the film celebrates the bonds that turn music, struggle, and loss into something larger than life.
“Then it really becomes a story about love and dedication to each other,” Hudson says.
But perhaps most of all, there is the power, passion, and pleasure of the stage that Lightning and Thunder come back to again and again.
“This movie is a love letter to musicians around the world who dedicate their lives to the music, who are not booking out Madison Square Garden, who are playing at the local pub, who are doing karaoke night, who are singing at the state fair with nine people watching in the rain and having the time of their life,” Jackman says. “And within that is a great love story, where one plus one equals three — where two people coming together and being there for each other sparks magic.”
The magic is no truer to anybody than the real-life Claire Stengl herself. “It has been the most fulfilling, exciting dream from which I don’t want to wake up,” says Stengl. “The word is, of course, what a lot of people use: surreal.”
If Mike were still here, what would he have thought of something this surreal, of an extravagant and moving big screen portrait of the highs and lows of Lightning and Thunder and the storied life that he shared with Claire?
“I’ve talked to everybody in his surviving family, and they all are unanimous in one thing: that Mike would love this,” Brewer says. “That the biggest star on the planet is playing him, that the movie’s coming out on Christmas Day so everybody can go see it, that there’s a movie about him. Of course there’s a movie about his life because damn it, what a life it’s been.”
I live in Memphis, Tennessee. And to live in Memphis is to be surrounded by music. Elvis Presley, Al Green, B.B. King, Johnny Cash, Isaac Hayes, Justin Timberlake, GloRilla — they all came from here and made their mark on the global stage.
But to live in Memphis is also to know the ones who never made it. The barroom heroes. The unsung voices who never got their shot. They sing in dive bars, county fairs, car dealerships, birthday parties, and bar mitzvahs. When the gig is over, the bar tab paid, the tip jar emptied, and the lights gone dark, they pack up their gear and head home to little or no applause. They live paycheck to paycheck, picking up odd jobs, often without insurance or a retirement plan.
I’ve seen a man tear the roof off a bar on a Saturday night singing “Hound Dog,” and that same man hand me a cup of coffee at a diner the next morning.
Every city has these performers. Years ago, if you came to Hollywood, people would say, “Go to the Dresden and see Marty and Elayne!” They were an older married couple who sang jazz covers with lounge-style flair. Were they stars known around the world? No. But in Los Feliz, they were legends. You rooted for them. They made you smile.
When I first saw Greg Kohs’ documentary Song Sung Blue in 2009, it shook me to my core. How did I not know about this Milwaukee duo who formed a Neil Diamond tribute band? The film introduced me to a working-class couple who had both experienced pain and loss in their lives but somehow found love and salvation performing together in bars and carnivals. Both came from failed marriages, yet they still took a chance on starting a family together. Lightning was a Vietnam vet who struggled with alcohol. Thunder was a single mom who battled mental health challenges. The hardships and tragedies these two faced were relentless — even unbelievable. I remember thinking: How can this all be real? How can one family take so many hard knocks and still hold on to each other and to their dreams?
We root for underdogs because their struggle is our song. We need to see real people triumph over adversity — not just superheroes in capes. I need to believe, with all the problems we face in this country, that the American Dream is still possible.
I need to believe in Lightning & Thunder. I hope you do, too.
Building the musical elements to Song Sung Blue was arguably the most daunting and crucial endeavor to the film, a nuanced process that involved selecting and crafting renditions from Neil Diamond’s prolific discography that were true to the spirit of both the singer’s work and to Mike and Claire’s journey.
“We want it to feel real and to also hit the correct emotional note and energy for the story,” says Scott Bomar, the executive music producer on the film who has collaborated on all of Brewer’s films since 2005’s Hustle & Flow. “Each song in the film has a thematic purpose both lyrically and how it is filmed.”
Brewer had already been a longtime fan of Diamond’s work. As he wrote the script, he returned to the songs he knew so well and began curating a playlist of songs that worked with specific scenes or might channel moments he could imagine in a trailer for the film.
“I felt like there needed to be a very clear path of Neil Diamond’s music,” Brewer says. “I didn’t want to start with ‘Sweet Caroline’ right at the top. Instead, I thought: how do we get into this story and musically anchor it in these set pieces where you would get that fix, but it would be part of the narrative and their growth?”
Choosing the right songs at times felt like being struck by lightning, discovering their spiritual and musical connection to the Sardina love story. “I’ll never forget listening to the song ‘Play Me,’ and thinking, this is where they fall in love,” he recalls. “In the third verse, it has these lyrics: So it was that I came to travel upon a road that was thorned and narrow, another place, another grace would save me. I thought, oh my God, lyrically it’s so much what they’re both going through in this moment.”
Indeed, the song appears early on in the film in Claire’s living room as she begins to riff with Mike, finding the spark of an almost cosmic kinship, as musicians and as two people who just might find a real, late-in-life connection. Bringing it to life in the film meant conferring with Bomar and turning it into a moment that felt like both a natural discovery and a big-screen moment.
“It starts with this beautiful acoustic guitar riff, but then strings come in, and I asked Scott, if I had a Casio keyboard, could I play some of the string elements in this and make it seem like she’s slowly putting a beat together?” Brewer recalls. “It needed to be about not only just love towards each other, but it needed to be about love of musicianship.”
Indeed, together, the two suddenly find a rhythm together, becoming partners in song and, as the arrangement swells beyond the room, possibly in life.
“Originally the song was only Neil singing but we arranged it for a duet between Mike and Claire,” Bomar says. “She also provides the drum beat on her Casio style keyboard as well as the string parts. As we go into a montage, we have real strings that blend in with the ones she is playing on her keyboard, and it becomes bigger than life.”
Other songs were inspired by real-life moments from Mike and Claire’s journey. “Forever in Blue Jeans,” for instance, is sung on stage with Eddie Vedder (the lead singer of Pearl Jam who took a liking to Lightning and Thunder) in the film, just like it happened in real life.
Brewer remembers trying to find the kind of Neil Diamond song that might be appropriate to inspiring Mike to see himself on stage as the legend himself — the kind of song that would kick off this unlikely dream.
“I would watch footage of Mike Sardina performing for these old ladies at some sort of 50-plus club, and, with his crotch almost in their face, he’d sing, ‘You make me sing like a guitar hummin’ , and these ladies would just be screaming their heads off,” Brewer says. “And I thought, ‘Oh, that’s got to be the thing that he’s singing when he’s in his underwear at home.’”
“Sweet Caroline,” the Neil Diamond song to top them all, is ultimately more often referenced than actually sung in the film itself. Rather than lead with the hit that everyone knows, Brewer wanted to treat it the way one should with such a legendary piece: “How do I tease the very song that everybody basically came to see? How do I keep you waiting for ‘Sweet Caroline,’ and then finally, when it hits, really pay it off? ”
Before any filming began, Brewer and Bomar oversaw the pre-recording of all the music in the movie in Memphis. That process involved looping in a crowd of world-class musicians and even those who worked directly with Diamond himself, including Richard Bennett, who not only toured with the musician for decades but also co-wrote and was the guitarist on “Forever in Blue Jeans.”
“We wanted the music to be true to both the original Neil versions and how Lightning and Thunder would have performed them,” Bomar says. “I saw the 2008 documentary our film is based on at the same time Craig had, so I was familiar with the story and feel of the act. I rewatched the documentary a few times and did some research on them on my own.”
After recording the instrumentals, Jackman and Hudson recorded their vocals, a process that was a fruitful act of discovery for them not only as Lightning and Thunder, but also as Mike and Claire.
“We didn’t really have any time to rehearse before filming — we would do some read-throughs of the script, but really it was the time where Kate and Hugh were recording together that they began to figure each other and their characters out,” Brewer says. “The time that they spent singing together just really contributed to the chemistry between the two of them on camera. They already just had such trust and felt like they’d known each other for decades.”
Craig Brewer — Writer, Director, Producer
Craig Breweris renowned for his gritty, music-driven storytelling, beginning with his breakout hit Hustle & Flow, which was produced and financed by his late mentor, John Singleton. The film premiered at Sundance and earned an Academy Award for Three 6 Mafia’s “It’s Hard Out Here for a Pimp,” making them the first hip-hop group to win in that category. Brewer followed Hustle & Flow with his Southern blues fable Black Snake Moan, starring Samuel L. Jackson, Christina Ricci, and Justin Timberlake. His Netflix feature, Dolemite Is My Name, marked the return of megastar Eddie Murphy, winning the Critics’ Choice Award for Best Comedy and earning Murphy a Golden Globe nomination for his portrayal of Rudy Ray Moore. Brewer and Murphy continued their collaboration with the long-anticipated sequel Coming 2 America, a major streaming hit for Amazon. Brewer recently directed and executive produced Fight Night: The Million Dollar Heist for Peacock, starring Kevin Hart, Don Cheadle, and reuniting Brewer with Samuel L. Jackson, Terrence Howard, and Taraji P. Henson.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Christmas Karma: A Bollywood Carol for Modern Britain
Christmas Karma is an upcoming British musical drama written and directed by Gurinder Chadha, known for her vibrant, socially conscious storytelling in films like Bend It Like Beckham and Blinded by the Light.
The film reimagines Charles Dickens’s A Christmas Carol through a contemporary, multicultural lens, blending Bollywood musical traditions with the emotional arc of Dickens’s timeless tale. Chadha’s version centres on Mr. Sood, an Indian Tory who despises refugees and is forced to confront his past, present, and future through the visitations of three ghosts—played by Eva Longoria, Billy Porter, and Boy George. The cast also includes Kunal Nayyar in the lead role, alongside Hugh Bonneville, Charithra Chandran, and a diverse ensemble of British and international talent. With music from Gary Barlow, Shaznay Lewis, and Nitin Sawhney, the film promises a rich sonic palette that fuses gospel, bhangra, carols, and pop into a festive, emotionally charged experience.
Director’s Statement
For me Christmas begins with my annual family tradition, where I take my children to watch It’s A Wonderful Life at the Prince Charles Cinema in London. Every year, I cry buckets at the end while being moved by its life-affirming message. A few years ago, after watching the movie for the 50th time, I decided I want to make a movie that makes me feel like Frank Capra’s masterpiece (which of course is heavily influenced by Charles Dickens’ ‘A Christmas Carol). Dickens wrote his plea for a kinder, more tolerant Britain, ‘A Christmas Carol’, in 1843. He was writing at a time of great disparity between the rich and poor in wealth as he explored the essence of humane riches that are priceless. CHRISTMAS KARMA is my ode to Dickens and Capra with a contemporary twist. Our Scrooge, called SOOD, is a rich British Indian, who despises poor people and refugees in particular. Sounds familiar to some of our current British Indian politicians? It is also inspired by a family member who came to Britain around Christmas time having lost his home in Uganda as a child and arriving to a hostile welcome as a refugee. For years he didn’t feel Christmas was for him and the hardships he faced as a child left him despising it.
In my film, SOOD has decided that immense wealth brings him status and standing, so to hell with the poor, unemployed and disenfranchised who didn’t work as hard as him to get where he is. Whilst a musical, my adaptation is very true to the original text and sentiment. Through the songs and revelations from THE GHOSTS OF CHRISTMAS PAST, PRESENT and FUTURE – SOOD and the audience will learn the urgent lesson of how prejudice, poverty and division in all its forms shapes SOOD and our society today. 182 years later, Dickens’ novella still resonates globally in today’s sometimes harsh world. Despite SOOD seeking refuge from racism with money, I aim to show how he and the audience may have colluded in creating SOOD. The audience will, I hope, be invested to beg him to move on, transform, be part of a society that doesn’t allow Scrooges, twisted and shaped by prejudice, to grow. So as in Dickens’ masterpiece, SOOD learns from the GHOSTS and the innocent, sick TINY TIM CRATCHIT that life is only worth living if you can bring joy to others. And by exorcising the demons of the past, we can help create a wonderful, humane, caring society for all – just in time for a big Christmas musical finale. ‘Living is Giving’ is part of the teaching of Guru Nanak and Sikhism. Being a Sikh, the core message of ‘Ek On Khar’ (We are all one) resonates heavily for me in the making of my film – a universally appealing film about the nature of personal pain and struggle when you can’t see past it to appreciate what you really have. No Gurinder Chadha film is complete without a banging soundtrack that includes UK hip-hop, Soul, Bhangra, African rhythms, reimagined Christmas songs and traditional Carols. It is an affectionate, hopeful, musical celebration of the Britain of today and the future for our kids. For me, CHRISTMAS KARMA is a legacy film with a humane message that will live on long after I do. Gurinder Chadha OBE
GURINDER CHADHA is one of the U.K.’s most proven and respected filmmakers with an illustrious body of work over 30 years. Her award-winning films as a Writer, Director and Producer have earned over $300 million at the international box office. The British Film Institute’s recent filmography study on British Cinema history named Chadha as the U.K’s most prolific female director working today. She began her career as a broadcast journalist for BBC News and moved into directing with her first documentary I’M BRITISH BUT… for Channel 4 and the BFI in 1989 and subsequently made several award-winning documentaries for BFI, BBC and Channel 4. Chadha directed her first short film, NICE ARRANGEMENT, in 1990. Her first feature, the landmark comedy-drama BHAJI ON THE BEACH, which centred on the experiences of a group of Asian women from three generations on a day trip to Blackpool, received a BAFTA Award nomination for Best British Film and the Evening Standard British Film Award for Best Newcomer to British Cinema. Chadha’s next feature, WHAT’S COOKING?, a comedy-drama that tells the story of four different families (Latino, Vietnamese, African-American and Jewish) all preparing for Thanksgiving Dinner, was the Opening Night Film of the 2000 Sundance Film Festival and was the first British script to be invited to the Sundance Institute’s Writer’s Lab. The film was voted joint Audience Award winner in the New York Film Critics’ 2000 season (with Billy Elliott). Her next film, BEND IT LIKE BECKHAM, was the highest-grossing British-financed, British-distributed film ever at the UK box office (at time of release) and topped box office charts internationally. The film received a Golden Globe nomination for Best Picture (Musical or Comedy), a BAFTA Award nomination for Best British Film, a European Film Academy nomination for Best Film, and a Writers Guild of America nomination for Best Original Screenplay. Chadha’s other hit films include BRIDE & PREJUDICE – a film that marries Jane Austen with Indian and Western musicals – which was the first film ever to open at #1 in the UK and India on the same day; ANGUS, THONGS AND PERFECT SNOGGING, based on the international bestseller which was released worldwide by Paramount in 2008/2009; IT’S A WONDERFUL AFTERLIFE, which premiered at the Sundance Film Festival before releasing internationally in 2010; and VICEROY’S HOUSE, an epic drama on Indian Independence and Partition, starring Hugh Bonneville, Gillian Anderson, Manish Dayal and Huma Qureshi. The film, which made its world premiere at the 2017 Berlin Film Festival, received critical acclaim and achieved global box-office success. In 2015, Chadha and Paul Mayeda Berges mounted the stage musical version of BEND IT LIKE BECKHAM in London’s West End to five-star reviews and critics’ awards. Chadha’s BLINDED BY THE LIGHT broke sales records at the 2019 Sundance Film Festival and was released internationally by Warner Bros to great acclaim. Chadha also creates diverse scripted and unscripted global TV content. Her BAFTA-Nominated drama series, BEECHAM HOUSE, launched on ITV and Masterpiece / PBS in 2019/2020. Chadha’s new film CHRISTMAS KARMA – a contemporary musical take on Charles Dickens’ Classic ‘A CHRISTMAS CAROL’ – features Kunal Nayyar, Eva Longoria, Billy Porter, Hugh Bonneville and Boy George. Chadha has received several Honorary Doctorates from British Universities and was awarded an O.B.E. in the 2006 Queen’s Birthday Honours List for her services to the British Film Industry.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on I Wish You All the Best – A Film of Quiet Becoming
I Wish You All the Best is a quietly radical film written and directed by Tommy Dorfman, adapted from Mason Deaver’s bestselling young adult novel of the same name.
In this refreshingly modern coming-of-age story based on the best-selling book by Mason Deaver, a high school junior (Corey Fogelmanis) comes out as nonbinary and is thrown out of their family’s home. With nowhere else to turn, they move in with their estranged older sister (Alexandra Daddario) and her husband (Cole Sprouse). After enrolling in a new school, they find support from an eccentric art teacher (Lena Dunham) and form an unexpected bond with a kindhearted student (Miles Gutierrez-Riley). With the help of their new relationships, they navigate the awkward hurdles of young adulthood in this sweetly funny journey of self-discovery that celebrates the power of being true to yourself.
Director’s Statement
Before transitioning in 2020, I spent 27 years in a state of gender limbo. Despite how others saw me, I always felt at odds with myself, and each step of my gender and sexuality evolution required a new coming out, filled with anxiety and emotional exhaustion. Thankfully, I had a support system to help me through it all: when I was five, in Atlanta, where I grew up, my best friend Lauren tirelessly defended my choice to dress up like Baby Spice to bullies on the playground. At 14, my friends Sadie and Kalli were there for me when I came out as gay and got my heart broken by a boy for the first time. At 21, my boyfriend, Peter, told me he loved that he was the first person I told I was nonbinary. At 27, my therapist, Steven, helped me navigate the tricky terrain of advocating for my use of she/her pronouns with family after beginning my medical, and subsequently very public, transition.
By the time I made I Wish You All the Best, I was 30 and proudly a trans woman, perhaps my final form in this lifetime. I had never been more comfortable in my skin, more confident in my body, and finally, I could breathe a sigh of relief. Back then, in 2023, I couldn’t foresee the complete and utter devastation and violence trans and queer people are facing today en masse, on a public stage. But, here we are, in the fall of 2025, and my film opens theatrically at the most terrifying tipping point for trans rights, not to mention a vehement resurgence of media censorship, in Trump’s America.
I Wish You All the Best was never intended to be a political film, beyond the fact that I, a trans woman, wrote, directed, and produced a commercial coming-of-age drama explicitly about a nonbinary teenager coming of age, which inherently is political or at least politicized. My approach was grounded in celebrating queerness, not highlighting all the constraints queer people face. This still feels viable, even if the landscape has shifted.
When I first read Mason’s book, I knew that I had the unique ability to adapt and bring this story to life on screen, being trans and from the South, so much of the world Mason created felt familiar. The book also stood out as the first of its kind with a nonbinary protagonist, Benjamin DeBacker[CG3] , as its heroine—a book I desperately needed as a kid and the movie I had to make no matter what, a movie that didn’t exist yet in the canon and needed to.
My goal in expanding on Mason Deaver’s novel into a cinematic universe was to examine how acts of love, compassion, and service towards family—chosen and blood—could either endanger a child or embolden them to flourish, to offer audiences a contained and simple character study on becoming.
It was important for me to tell this story authentically and not fall into the trap of dramatizing Ben’s gender or coming out too much. Viewing anybody solely through the lens of their gender or sexuality diminishes their vast and complex humanity. Although Ben’s coming-out experience is crucial and worth exploring, we’re offered three different generational responses to it in this film after all, and it is the obvious jumping-off point. What happens for them in the aftermath inspired me more.
I explored onward into more universal experiences: the discomfort of being seventeen, falling in love with a classmate, forming friendships, finding a voice through painting and self-expression, learning to love and be loved, navigating anxiety and depression, and coping with the pressures of growing up, Ben thrives beyond the limits of gender identity and representation.
It may be a portrait of a typical teenager in America, but we cannot overlook the harsh realities confronting queer youth in our world today and it would be a disservice to the community to disregard the limited and violent beliefs of the protagonist’s parents that led to the utter destruction of Ben’s life as they knew it before coming out.
With a focus on humanizing these characters, I made a conscious effort to anchor the positive and negative choices in love, offering audiences a chance to anchor themselves in both realities. Even when the characters are at their worst, it’s crucial to showcase their best traits, and graciously wish them well. Maybe it’s a southern tradition to passive-aggressively pray for someone you resent, but universally, this film serves as a tool for building empathy in our daily lives. Supporting this film and seeing it, sharing it with family and friends who are transphobic, is an act of love to the LGBTQ+ community right now and an act of resistance against the milieu of anti-trans legislation moving through our political systems today. So, while I wish the world was more evolved by now, I am grateful to offer Ben’s story to audiences who need it more than they might’ve just a few seasons ago.
Tommy Dorfman is an accomplished actress, writer, director, and producer whose work spans film, television, and theater. Best known for her breakout role in the hit Netflix series “13 Reasons Why,” Dorfman has since gone on to build a dynamic career, while consistently shining a light on her experiences as a trans woman in Hollywood.
Dorfman recently launched her company Good Girl Productions, which produces new works across film, television, and theater while inspiring, investing in, and incubating stories that challenge, shift, and deepen the understanding of the human experience.
In May 2025, Dorfman released her debut memoir, MAYBE THIS WILL SAVE ME, with Hanover Square Press, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers. Structured through the cards of a tarot pull and touching on themes of self-discovery and resilience, Dorfman expertly traverses her journey through art, addiction, and ultimately, transformation. The book received critical praise and became an instant National Bestseller.
Last fall, Dorfman made her Broadway debut in Sam Gold’s adaptation of Romeo + Juliet, starring alongside Kit Conner and Rachel Zegler. The production marked Dorfman’s return to the New York stage and her first acting role since publicly coming out as transgender. In this fresh take on the classic, Dorfman took on dual roles as the Nurse and Tybalt.
Quickly following, Dorfman starred in Becoming Eve, a New York Theatre Workshop production based on Abby Chava Stein’s memoir. The production opened April 7 to critical acclaim, with The New York Times praising it as “a welcome tonic, served in a Kiddush cup.” For her turn as the titular character, Chava, Dorfman earned her first nomination for a Drama League Award in the category of “Distinguished Performance.” The show received two additional nominations in the categories of “Outstanding Production of a Play” and “Outstanding Direction of a Play.”
Mason Deaver is a bestselling and award-nominated author born and raised in a small town in North Carolina, now based in Charlotte. Identifying as non-binary and using they/them pronouns, Deaver is best known for their debut novel I Wish You All the Best, which became a landmark in young adult literature for its tender portrayal of a non-binary protagonist. The book was named a Junior Library Guild Selection and an NPR Concierge Book, and later adapted into a film directed by Tommy Dorfman. Deaver’s writing is rooted in emotional honesty and a desire to fill the gaps in queer representation they experienced growing up. Outside of writing, they are an avid fan of horror films and video games, and continue to shape the literary landscape with works that center queer identity, vulnerability, and resilience.
In Keeper, director Osgood Perkins and writer Nick Lepard conjure a horror film that is as emotionally raw as it is atmospherically unsettling. Set in a remote cabin and anchored by a two-character dynamic, the film stars Tatiana Maslany and Rossif Sutherland as Liz and Malcolm—a couple whose romantic retreat spirals into psychological terror.
What begins as a quiet anniversary getaway soon fractures into a surreal confrontation with isolation, mistrust, and the uncanny. As Malcolm departs unexpectedly, Liz is left alone to face a sinister force tied to the cabin’s dark history, and perhaps to the emotional fault lines of their relationship itself.
Perkins, known for Longlegs and The Blackcoat’s Daughter, has long been drawn to horror that pulses beneath the surface—where dread is not just external but internal, where silence is weaponised, and where characters unravel in tandem with the world around them. Keeper emerged during a creative lull caused by industry strikes, when Perkins, eager to keep working, assembled a small team and crafted a film from scratch. “We did it for no money and no time,” he told Inverse, “and we just did it for the love of it, which turned out to be the best medicine”. That urgency and intimacy permeate the film’s DNA, making it feel both stripped-down and emotionally saturated.
Tatiana Maslany, celebrated for her transformative work in Orphan Black, brings a mercurial intensity to Liz. Her collaboration with Perkins—following their work on The Monkey—was marked by creative freedom and instinctual risk-taking. “All of the weird instincts and impulses I have are the stuff we’re making this film with,” Maslany said, describing the process as liberating. That sense of raw, intuitive performance is central to Keeper’s power. The film doesn’t rely on jump scares or gore; instead, it builds unease through emotional dissonance, fragmented memory, and the creeping suspicion that love itself may be haunted.
The title Keeper carries layered significance. On the surface, it refers to the romantic notion of finding “a keeper”—someone worth holding onto. But as the film unfolds, that phrase curdles. Is Liz being kept by Malcolm, by the cabin, or by something more metaphysical? The ambiguity is deliberate. The film toys with perspective, suggesting that either character could be the true villain—or the true victim. The cabin becomes a crucible for projection, possession, and revelation, where the boundaries between love and control, memory and manipulation, begin to blur.
In a genre often dominated by spectacle, Keeper stands out for its restraint and resonance.
It’s a horror film that doesn’t scream—it whispers, scratches, and waits. Its significance lies not just in its scares but in its emotional excavation. Perkins and Lepard have crafted a story where the real terror is intimacy itself: the fear of being truly seen, truly known, and perhaps, truly lost. In that sense, Keeper is not just a film—it’s a mirror held up to the quiet horrors we carry into love, and the ghosts we leave behind.
Osgood Perkins most recently wrote and directed The Monkey, adapted from the Stephen King short story of the same name. It premiered to critical acclaim and marked NEON’s second-highest opening of all time. Perkins’ previous film, Long Legs, was also released by NEON to rave reviews and earned an 86% Fresh rating on Rotten Tomatoes. It grossed over $126 million worldwide, making it the highest-grossing independent film of 2024, the most successful indie horror release of the past 25 years, and NEON’s top-performing title to date, surpassing Parasite and I, Tonya. His upcoming film Keeper, marks his third collaboration with NEON. Perkins made his directorial debut with The Blackcoat’s Daughter, which premiered at the 2015 Toronto International Film Festival to critical praise and was released by A24. He went on to direct Gretel & Hansel for MGM/Orion, and I Am the Pretty Thing That Lives in the House, which premiered at Tl FF in 2016 and is now streaming as a Netflix original. In television, Perkins made his debut directing and writing a standalone episode of CBS All Access’s The Twilight Zone reboot. Supported by Jordan Peele and Monkeypaw Productions, the episode allowed him to craft an original story within the anthology format-an uncommon opportunity that showcased his distinctive voice in genre storytelling.
Nick Lepard, the screenwriter behind Keeper (2025), is a Canadian artist and writer whose creative roots lie in visual storytelling and emotional abstraction. Born in 1983, Lepard first gained recognition as a painter, known for his expressive use of color, gesture, and scale. His transition into screenwriting brought that same physicality and intuition to narrative form. While Keeper marks a major cinematic collaboration with Osgood Perkins, Lepard’s background in contemporary art informs the film’s surreal and psychological tone. His writing explores the porous boundaries between perception and reality, often using sparse dialogue and evocative imagery to build tension. Lepard’s approach to horror is less about spectacle and more about emotional dissonance—how relationships, memory, and space can become sites of quiet terror. With Keeper, he crafts a narrative that is both intimate and metaphysical, inviting viewers to confront the ghosts that linger in love, silence, and solitude.
Q: Is there a moment you can trace where the idea that would become Weapons began?
ZACH CREGGER: One of my best friends unexpectedly died. I think there are times when screenwriters can write from a place of ambition, and that’s maybe not the most creatively healthy way to go about it. But I was in such a severe, painful place that I was able to write just out of pure need, without any idea of what it was going to be.
When I’m writing, I have a rule for myself—I don’t want to know what’s going to happen at all. I always just start. So, I sat down to write what would become this movie, and the first thing I type is this little girl telling a story and these kids who go running out of the house. And I’m thinking as I’m writing, “This is cool. I hope I figure this out.” And I didn’t really figure it out until it was time in the script to answer that question. Basically, I’m writing on a tightrope, hoping that it is revealed to me. Luckily, in this case, it was.
But I was just writing to get this feeling out, and it ended up turning into Weapons. I think when I wrote Barbarian, it was kind of a similar thing. I sat down and started writing for the fun of it, without any idea of what it was going to be. I was able to have that exact same process for this, where I didn’t know what the movie was going to be until I typed “the end.” Now, in all honesty, I wrote a first draft that was really bad. Then, Barbarian came out. And then, I took that first draft and got it into healthy enough shape that it could be a movie.
Q: Barbarian is a really tough act to follow.
ZACH CREGGER: Well, after Barbarian, I really wanted the next thing to be something that would challenge me to be bigger, be better. I wanted to make something that felt a lot more ambitious—not just in terms of size and scale, but a lot more moving parts and a much more challenging structure. I wanted it to be riskier, but just as crazy. Sometimes, when the film is bigger, you might want to play it safe, but I wanted to really go the other way and get as weird as I could be. So, I’m very proud to say that this is a bigger movie and a weirder movie than Barbarian is, and that’s kind of what I was thinking when I started writing it.
Q: What did you bring with you as a filmmaker from that film?
ZACH CREGGER: I think primarily, I got a lot more confident. During the whole process, I was like, “Do I know what I’m doing? Am I up to the task of making and directing a movie?” And I feel with Barbarian, I proved to myself, “Yes, I can do this.” So, I definitely went in with a bit more confidence. The biggest lesson was for me to try to tune out the noise around me and focus in on that small creative voice that is so easy to ignore. It’s so quiet and so small. And with the chaos of production, that little voice will nag with, “Hey, start over. This is not right and maybe we should pivot.” I think during Barbarian I would sometimes override that voice, because of the pressure, the money, the time at stake. But shooting Weapons, I was able to say, “Everybody, pause. This isn’t right. But I know what we need to do.” I think that was a valuable thing, and I doubt I would have been able to do that had I not made Barbarian.
Q: So, what really is Weapons?
ZACH CREGGER: The central question that this movie asks on page one is, “Why? Why did one classroom of kids decide, on the same night at 2:17 in the morning, to get out of bed, walk downstairs, open the front door, and walk out into the dark and never come back? What is it about this classroom? Why not the other third grade classroom? Was it a plan? Is it some sort of alien mind control? Is it a government thing? Is it a prank? What could be doing this?” Not knowing the answer to that question when I started writing, I thought that was pretty compelling. It was easy for me to lock-in to the mindset of a parent who is demanding answers or the teacher who has no idea. Or does she? I don’t know. I’m not going to say. But there was just already all of these juicy perspectives of people who are tasked with solving this case or who have a lot of stakes in getting this thing solved. So, it was easy to hit the ground running with that question.
This is a movie that starts weird and I think it ends way weirder, but it also stays both feet on the ground as much as it can. It’s a movie that obeys the rules of its own universe so it’s not going to spiral into some bizarre, hallucinogenic nightmare or anything like that. But it is a twisty, turn-y movie. I mean, it’s a movie that reinvents itself about every 20 minutes while still staying true to the central engine. But it’s also a fun movie. It’s funny, it’s scary, it’s inviting. It’s not a big, grim, morose slog, and yet, the story it tells is really f***ed up.
Q: This movie truly and constantly surprises. That is a feat in and of itself.
ZACH CREGGER: As someone who’s watched millions of movies over the course of my life and just loves them so deeply, it’s hard to have a story that is surprising and that you’re not going to see coming from the moment you watch the trailer… or at least once you’re 10 minutes in. I feel like I usually know 10 minutes into a movie where it’s going to go. I feel confident in saying that that’s not the case with Weapons and it’s really important that that is preserved for the people who are going to watch it after the first round of audiences. I think it’s really important to protect that. So, I guess this is a way of me saying, “Please don’t spoil this movie for your friends. Don’t go online and be a troll. Let people have their pure experience with it.”
Q: And as with Barbarian, you again kind of shatter the expected structure of the narrative, and have a brilliant cast that makes the most of it…
ZACH CREGGER:Weapons is an interesting movie, because there’s really seven leads of this movie. Everyone gets to be the star of Weapons for their little 12-minute chunk. And so, every person I cast, I’m casting the star of the show.
The two most forward facing ones at the beginning of the movie are Julia Garner and Josh Brolin. I think it’s easy to mistake Julia as a little bit of a delicate person. She’s got a very slight frame and this really wild, blonde shock of hair. And she’s very funny. But she has this really, really powerful core. I think her magic is that she’s able to access both of these parts of herself with a lot of compelling expertise. And so, it’s fun to see someone who you would at first think is kind of a prey animal turn into… not a predator, but into something formidable. And that’s something that’s rare to find, someone who can authentically be both. It’s easy to cast a badass, but could that badass play a compelling third grade teacher whose main problem is that she loves her class so much, but still needs to be able to bring it? It’s a short list of people who can do that, and Julia can. Josh is one of my favorite actors. I mean, he’s been in so many movies that I just adore and he’s just so… He’s so good. He’s so talented. He’s able to do so much with so little. He’s gruff, but he’s incredibly vulnerable and he’s just compelling. He’s a movie star. It’s one of the gifts of my life to be able to have Josh Brolin be in this movie. I don’t know what else to say. It’s obvious how great he is.
Alden Ehrenreich to me is just one of the great actors of our generation, if I may say that. And I think it’s time for people to recognize how spectacular he is. I fell in love with him as an actor when I saw Hail, Caesar! I thought he stole that movie just outright. Sorry, Josh. He did. Josh would agree by the way—Josh would say the same thing. When he’s in the right place at the right time, there’s nothing like it. He’s a total star and he’s so smart. And he’s a writer and a director, too. Talking to him was so easy, because he just understood the code of what we were trying to do in a scene. And he’s never fake. He’s never boring. And he’s mesmerizing. I love him. I really am just smitten with him.
I also am just over the moon with Austin Abrams, who I feel like is just this young actor who has not had his moment yet. But I really want to be part of it when that moment happens, because he’s like Willem Dafoe, John Cazale, Gary Oldman, ready to explode. He’s a character actor who is just weird and compelling always. He’s incapable of a false note. And I fell in love with him. I’ve always kept an eye out for the kid from Brad’s Status. It’s a two-hander, and Austin was probably 17 and he is working not at all. He’s got this totally calm, immovable energy and he’s just owning the movie. And for someone to be able to do that as a teenager is bizarre. And then he did Euphoria and he’s able to kind of chameleon his way into all these different things. And I was like, “I got to work with this kid.” And so yeah, when it was time to cast this movie and I needed a junkie who was in their 20s, I was like, “I know exactly who the f*** we’re getting for this movie.” I mean, he is just so committed. He’s so giving.
Benedict Wong was someone I wasn’t really familiar with prior to this movie. And I had a lot of ideas about what I needed out of this character. I knew I needed a gentle giant. I knew I needed somebody who, first of all, obviously had the acting chops, but I needed someone who I could totally believe would be an elementary school principal and could also be terrifying if they were to attack me. And Benny, he just came along at the 11th hour. I was kind of in a despair moment where I just was not able to get that part cast. And then one of my producers was like, “You really should check out Benny.” And I went down a rabbit hole and then we did a Zoom—I think he had just woken up and was like, “What do you want for this?” And he kind of ad-libbed his way through the scene. And on that Zoom, I was like, “You have this job. Come to America.” And he’s great, man. Benny’s the best. He’s so good. I love him.
Cary Christopher is one of the leads of this movie and he’s 10. I didn’t even think of Cary as a child actor. I just thought of Cary as an actor. He’s an incredibly smart person, and he asks thoughtful questions on set. He’s dialed in; he listens. Here’s what makes Cary so special. I feel like most child actors, they pre-shape—when an actor decides in advance how they’re going to deliver a line, that’s pre-shaping and it sucks. And children pre-shape, almost all of them do. And Cary doesn’t. Cary is just allowing himself to be in the scene and to listen and to react. And so right there, what else can you ask for? And he’s great. His instincts are always to play it real. He doesn’t ham it up. I loved him and he’s like a good energy on set. He was my little buddy, and I’m eternally grateful to Cary for bringing it in this movie, because he really brought it.
And then there’s Amy Madigan, who is just as good as it gets for an actor. You watch her in Field of Dreams, and you get the pep and spirit. You watch her in Gone Baby Gone, and you get the precision. And I had lunch with her at this Greek restaurant, and we were talking about the character, and right there across from me at the table, she just did it. And I promised myself when I went to this lunch that I was not going to offer her the role. And then when she did that, I was like, “This part is yours. You have the part.”
Q: What is it about this genre that continues to appeal, not only to filmmakers, but to the fans who will turn out for the theatrical experience?
ZACH CREGGER: Horror is really interesting right now, because it’s one of the few areas of modern film where you’re able to get a theatrical release and a decent budget while making something challenging, weird and new. I’m sorry to say it, but I don’t think you’re going to get a lot of that from these big budget giant action extravaganzas. It is more likely you’re going to get that from horror. And I’m fortunate, because my creative tuning fork tends to vibrate the most with it—I resonate with horror, and if I was writing just for me, I’d write horror. So, I’m lucky in that way. The stars have aligned right now in 2025 where horror is in vogue and people are paying attention to it, and so thank God. I’m in the sweet spot, because I love it. It’s my favorite thing. I never get scared in movies, but that one out of a hundred where I do, there’s nothing like it.
There’s something you get when you go see a horror movie or a comedy—come on, comedy, come back!—in a movie theater, where you are tapping into the vibration of the room… When you are coming together in a crowd, and you’re forfeiting your attention in unison to this experience, and you find the same wavelength, it’s more fun. It’s more engaging. We’re all kind of at a church. We’re not looking at our phone, we’re not talking about other s**t hopefully, unless you’re an asshole, and we’re dialed in and the experience is richer. That’s why it’s worth getting in your car and spending 40 bucks on popcorn and soda and getting a babysitter. It’s because you get something from the energy of the room. And when you get that in a horror movie, and you’re on this roller coaster together, it’s a thrill and an adrenaline and laughter release. That is more enjoyable when you do it en masse. I will always go see them in theaters; it’s just more fun.
Q: So, how do you feel about what you set out to do with Weapons?
ZACH CREGGER: My mission as a filmmaker is to stay completely clear and loyal to the vision that I have when I’m writing. When I’m writing the movie, I’m watching the movie and my only job is to make sure that that stays pure. That’s the hardest thing in the world to do, because there are a million problems that come your way every day when you’re making a movie where you could just start chipping away at that vision and, inevitably, you sometimes have to.
But I feel like when I’m watching it on the monitor on set, I’m seeing what I had in my head. And when I’m in the cutting room, most importantly, I’m watching the movie that I was watching a year ago and that I watched every night when I fell asleep, because I’m that obsessive. Every night when I fell asleep, I watched this movie in my mind. And I’m the proudest that when I watched it in the color grade, which is the last step of the edit, I was watching the same movie. And to me, it’s like, “Okay. Now, I’m kind of bulletproof. People can love this movie. People can hate this movie. It could perform well or it couldn’t, but I won the movie, because I made what I had in my head.” That’s the biggest victory I could ask for.
ZACH CREGGER’s (Writer / Director / Producer / Music by) feature writing and directorial debut, BARBARIAN, premiered in theaters in 2022 and stars Bill Skarsgård, Georgina Campbell and Justin Long. He just wrapped on his highly anticipated follow-up film, WEAPONS (also written and directed by Cregger), which is set to release in 2025. Zach was a founding member and writer for the New York comedy troupe, THE WHITEST KIDS U’KNOW, which he started while attending The School of Visual Arts. The group’s reputation for unpolished hit-or-miss hilarity precedes them around the New York comedy circuit, and they won the award for Best Sketch Group at Aspen’s U.S. Comedy Arts Festival 2006. The group’s self-titled sketch comedy show ran for five seasons on IFC TV and Fuse. As an actor, he has appeared alongside Anthony Anderson, Jesse Bradford, Gary Cole, Megan Mullally and Krysten Ritter, and starred in TBS’s hit series WRECKED.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Superman: In conversation with writer/director/producer James Gunn
Director/Writer/Producer James Gunn is the prolific filmmaker behind some of today’s most notable pop culture content and the Co-Chairman and Chief Executive Officer of DC Studios alongside Peter Safran.
Gunn’s film and television credits include the Warner Bros. feature “The Suicide Squad,” Marvel’s entire “Guardians of the Galaxy” franchise, the Emmy-nominated HBO Max television series “The Peacemaker,” cult classic features “Slither,” “Super,” and many more. Most recently, Gunn wrote and directed the third and final “Guardians” feature, “Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3,” which was released on May 5, 2023. At the end of its opening weekend, the film exceeded its global expectations and had earned a whopping total of $289.3 million from international and domestic audiences and just recently passed $835 million worldwide ahead of its digital release. In 2019, Gunn produced the drama/thriller, “Brightburn” starring Elizabeth Banks for Sony and produced the horror feature “The Belko Expirement” starring John Gallager Jr. and Tony Goldwyn for Orion Pictures.
Why did you opt to debut DC Studios’ feature film slate with a Superman film? I think that was a really practical thing. Number one, I’m sitting here not because of my dreams, I’m sitting here because of Peter Safran’s dreams. It has been his dream his entire life to make a Superman movie. And so, I have to acknowledge the importance that played in him gently goading and manipulating me into writing, directing and making this film. But I also think that Superman is the start of it all. He’s the first superhero. He’s an incredibly important character to DC. There’s a trinity, and it’s Batman, Superman and Wonder Woman. But we’ve seen a lot more of Wonder Woman and Batman over the past few years than we have of Superman, so I felt like it was important to really put our best foot forward with DC Studios, and that was to start with Superman.
What was the moment like when you cracked the case, so to speak, of how to approach a Superman story? It was the first few pages. I had played with a lot of different things, but it really was the moment with Superman beaten in the ground in the middle of what looks like the Arctic. And then seeing Krypto coming—who’s just a little jerk, coming and trying to play with him, but beating him up and hurting him—and then going into the Fortress of Solitude with the Superman robots. Then intercutting that with Lex and this scheme that he has, masterminding all these different people that are working for him. I think that’s when I really knew where it went after I had been trying to crack it for years and years and years.
You had a vision to do something unusual in the genre today: to create a story about doing good. Being good. Where did that come from? When I took on Guardians of the Galaxy, I knew that we had had 25 years of sort of dark and dreary science fiction movies, where everything was supposed to be real because it was dark, and I felt like there was a place for color. Kind of like the old school look of fiction that had been missing from movies. Superman is a character who’s really about as good as a human being could be. He’s good natured, but just being purely good doesn’t mean he always does the right thing, logically. The movie is about a character who is purely good in a world that isn’t good, and I think that’s something we don’t really see. Everybody’s an anti-hero, and I think that when characters seem good, there is a tendency to kind of make fun of them and see them as goofy. But this character is noble and he’s beautiful, and he’s not always right and he makes mistakes. I get emotional because I what this movie is about is—why do we love Superman so much? Is it because he can punch planets or pick up skyscrapers? I don’t think it is. I think it’s because of his innate goodness and, and his humanity, even though he’s an alien, and the fact that he is okay with being pollyannaish, it’s okay that he’s being optimistic, it’s okay that he’s vulnerable.
When did you first fall in love with the character Superman? The comics? Previous films? I’ve always liked Superman. I think as a kid I was really attracted to the Superman family comics, with Superman and Supergirl and Krypto and the whole gang. And I was a huge fan of the Richard Donner film as a child—the score and everything about it just kind of blew my mind. It was at a time when I was starting to become more aware of how important films were to me in my life, and that was different from how important films were to other people in their lives.
How do you think the character has changed over the years and what were your main influences for your version of Superman? Superman’s powers have changed drastically throughout the years, kind of up and down, not really just in one direction. When he started out, he was just a really strong guy that could leap a tall building in a single bound, but not fly. He could punch people, but he wasn’t invincible. Bullets would bounce off of him, but that was kind of the limit. And then he kept getting more and more powerful until in the 1970s, before the John Byrne era, he was reshaping planets with a punch. Or even in the first movie, making the world go backwards in time. There were times when he was so powerful that it was hard for me to imagine him being as interesting as I would want him to be, or it was hard for me to imagine relating to him, but then a couple of things happened. Number one was Grant Morrison’s All-Star Superman, which was incredibly influential to me. I fell in love with the character in All-Star Superman, and I wasn’t a child when that book came out. To me, All-Star Superman showed how Superman’s power is actually part of his appeal. He was this good-natured, jaw forward, always doing-the-right-thing, gung-ho guy who’s incredibly pure, and that was an interesting character to me. Grant really gave him something that I just loved and his goodness was a big inspiration. It’s that side of his personality that became the foundation of the Superman in this movie. In our movie, I’ve made Superman less powerful. He’s not making the world go backwards in time. He’s not punching planets. He’s very strong, he can lift a skyscraper, but he’s not completely invulnerable. In the beginning of the movie we see a Superman who’s bleeding. To me, when I imagined that happening, I thought, “How, how did we get here?”
This may sound strange, but the main thing the character was to me was the thing that made me the happiest: when strangers or friends would call me it. I didn’t grow up watching the Donner movies, the Chris Reeve movies. I knew who Christopher Reeve was and I knew that he played Superman, but we didn’t grow up watching the films. I didn’t grow up reading the comic books. I knew who Superman was as a character, but never was particularly connected to him. So, I think my first connection to the character was when somebody would say I was like him. I have a weird story. It was in college. I was living with two close friends and classmates, and the smoke alarm went off. I ran out of my room, grabbed a chair, stood on the chair, and reached up and silenced the smoke alarm. And one of my roommates said, you literally are Superman, you just showed up and saved the day. And I think anybody’s lucky to be somebody who people feel can be there in the nick of time, keep calm and positive in a difficult situation. Not that I ever felt like, or thought that I was like Superman, but I really loved when I could do even a little thing to make somebody else feel that. The upshot of that is that the character for me is bigger than any one iteration or interpretation, it’s a sort of a sense, a feeling that somebody is looking out for you and somebody knows what to do. Or if they don’t know what to do, at least they can not know what to do with a smile on their face, and they don’t panic. So that, I think, at its core, is Superman. DAVID CORENSWET – SUPERMAN / CLARK KENT –
To introduce the world to your vision for Superman, you cast David Corenswet—what made him your ideal Superman and Clark Kent? I think anybody that sees the movie knows why David Corenswet is Superman. David is somebody who I saw in my friend Ti West’s film Pearl, and thought that guy should audition for Superman. It was very interesting because people start auditioning usually with self-tapes that they send in to John Papsidera, our casting director. I got the first round of self-tapes and it was a lot of actors, maybe 30 Supermans and 30 Loises. But within that, in that first day, were both Rachel Brosnahan reading for Lois and David Corenswet reading for Superman. Now, Lois I thought I would find, because Lois is not as physically restrictive, where Superman is very specific. And I was afraid of not being able to find the right Superman. Luckily, I saw David reading on the first day, and he was amazing. One of the main scenes that the actors were reading from was a scene where Superman is arguing with Lois about his place in the world. David was great, when you see him in that scene in the movie, you realize this guy’s just a fantastic actor, and he also happens to look and sound a lot like Superman. He’s also a square in real life, like Superman. He listens to old jazz standards and swing music.
The dynamic between Superman/Clark and Lois is key to the story you’ve crafted—what do we need to know about your version of Lois? I think Lois has a much more tumultuous past than Superman, which is saying a lot because Superman’s planet exploded and he was sent here as a baby. But other than that one fact, Superman had this tremendously supportive upbringing with these two wonderful people who loved him dearly and he was the apple of their eyes. Whereas I think Lois’s past was a little crazier than that. She’s tough. I love Margot Kidder in Donner’s Superman, but she is on the back foot. She is in love with Superman, and he’s Superman. In this movie, you see that Lois is more than a match for Superman, and you see why somebody as cool and as powerful and as good as he is, would fall in love with her. She’s idealistic and she has integrity, but she doesn’t necessarily believe in goodness. And through this relationship, with the wisdom of Lois and the purity of Superman, they come together in this really great way.
It’s at a rare point of vulnerability in the opening of the film that you introduce a character who has long been a favorite in the comics, Krypto—what prompted you to include him? Krypto the Superdog! An often frivolous character from DC Comics who I’ve always liked. That beginning of the movie was the beginning of the story for me, that was me finding out how Superman got to that place and what happened. Having Krypto come to his rescue at the beginning of the movie was adding the whole spin to what this Superman movie was. It wasn’t the Donner Superman. It wasn’t Zack [Snyder]’s Superman. It is a different Superman, where there’s a superdog that flies around and also can shoot beams out of his eyes, where there are other superheroes. It’s a world where metahumans have existed for years and Superman just happens to be the greatest of them, although we’re meeting him at a time before he’s quite reached that stature.
Can you share a little about the origin of Krypto—your version of Krypto? Krypto was inspired by my dog, Ozu. He’s named after the great Japanese director Yasujirō Ozu. We got him from a rescue with all these dogs, and he was the one dog that was terrified of me. He was very scrawny and skinny, but he had one ear sticking up and it was like a beacon to me. So, for some reason, I was attracted to this silly dog, and I brought him home. And he didn’t know people. He was about a year old, he had never really been touched or interacted with human beings, so he didn’t have much use for me whatsoever. And he loved my other dog, instantly followed her around everywhere really bothering her. He also proceeded to destroy my house. He tore up all our furniture. He destroyed every shoe he could get his paws on. He ate my laptop. For real. Destroyed my laptop. And every time anything vaguely resembling an animal came on screen, he would attack the television screen and attack the furniture around the television screen. He was the worst dog you’ve ever seen in your life. He was biting my feet constantly and so I had to wear shoes around the house when I normally like to be barefoot in my house. He would bite my feet when I was on the phone, so I couldn’t scream at him and also I couldn’t scream in pain. Instead I would sit on top of my kitchen counter and cross my legs and try to get over in a corner, and then all of a sudden, he would jump up onto the counter and start biting my feet anyway. And for some reason, I thought, “Oh, what if this awful, terrible, maniac dog had superpowers? We’d be in real trouble.” And then I thought, maybe Krypto is terrible, and that was the start of the movie, adding this unexpected element, this terrible dog. So, Krypto is Ozu. We literally brought Ozu in and scanned him, because Ozu could never be a stand in.
Along with metahumans, you chose to include a lot of other elements from the Superman universe… I thought this movie could be different in that it could have all those sort of magical realism elements of the fantasy of Superman—flying dogs and giant kaiju and robot helpers and all of these fun things— while keeping the character himself more grounded. Superman is real and rooted in his personality and his relationship to the other characters, in a plot that was dictated by his choices, not by some external forces. The script was so fun to write because of that. It was also very different from anything I had ever written before. Sure, it has some science fiction elements, but I think in some ways, Superman is more grounded than the Guardians films because at its essence, it’s not a comedy. But it’s also more fantastical in certain strange ways. It’s more like a comic book. Really going there with all these big things like the Grant Morrison All-Star Superman does.
You’ve got an incredible partnership with your HODs, why is that so important to you? My department heads have pretty much stayed the same for the past however many films, from Beth Mickle, my production designer, to Judianna Makovsky, my costume designer, to Henry Braham, my cinematographer and Lars Winthers, who started as my AD on Guardians Volume II, as our head of production for DC Studios. I work with the same people again and again and we have a way of communicating that is intimate because we know each other, we know what each other needs and what each other wants. They know my peculiarities. They know what I focus on, and they know my strengths and weaknesses. Basically we’re a family, and having that family there around you makes the very difficult act of shooting a film more fun.
Let’s talk about some of the environments you’ve created, starting with the Fortress of Solitude, which you filmed in Svalbard, Norway. The Fortress of Solitude first came about in a time when you could have had a fortress in the middle of the Antarctic and nobody would know. That’s not the case today with technology. So what the fortress is in our movie is actually something that sinks into the ground and comes up when Superman gets close to it, because of his DNA. The design needed to be a part of that, and we took a lot of inspiration from the original Donner movie, we took a lot of inspiration from designs in the comics over the years, and we just created our own thing. Again, we have the high tech Superman stuff with the Superman robots, very much like All-Star Superman. And Beth designed a really wonderful cathedral of crystals and we shot in Svalbard because I wanted to use the natural light and use the natural topography. You need to get things out of nature that you just can’t necessarily get out of the human imagination alone—not to mention the breath that you’ll see because it’s actually that cold. I wanted to make it look as beautiful as possible and to make sure that this is a beautiful piece of photography throughout the whole movie.
You shot in Cleveland, Ohio, birthplace of Superman—what was that like for you? Ohio was one of my favorite parts of shooting this movie—shooting in Cleveland, the birthplace of Superman. That’s where Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster came up with the idea for Superman, so that’s where he was created. But we didn’t go and shoot there because Superman was created there. We went and shot there because it has all this beautiful art deco architecture that is what we wanted the look of Metropolis to be. It just so happened to fit what we were looking for in a city, and also happened to be the birthplace of Superman. And the people were wonderful, the PAs and crew members that we used were fantastic. The Film Commission was really great to work with. We had a great time shooting in Cleveland, and in Cincinnati which is where we shot the Justice Gang’s headquarters, based on the old train station in Cincinnati. Both those cities were fantastic.
How did you approach flight differently in this film? The way we chose to shoot the flying was very complicated. It had David in a lot of different rigs. We’re very lucky that David is a very athletic guy, so he was able to do all of that well. But we worked with Wayne Dalglish, who’s our stunt coordinator, to create a type of flying that was as real as we could possibly make it, to feel it viscerally. I took a lot from watching footage of jet fighters and what it would be like for a human being to actually fly through the air. You realize there are certain things that you’ve never seen in a Superman movie. For instance, somebody will be speeding through the air at supersonic speed and their hair is just doing a little bit of a wiggle from the wind. We wanted to be able to show his hair really moving in the way it would be if you’re moving beyond the speed of sound. And so it was a really complicated but fun thing to figure out. From the very beginning, I wrote about four pages on the theory of the action and how we were going to shoot it and what we were going to do, because we also wanted to treat the cameras as if they were generally being held by other flying people. The cameras needed to have some movement to them, as if we were actually trying to track these guys that were flying throughout space. It was a lot of fun to do that, fun stuff for me to shoot.
DC Studios Presents a Troll Court Entertainment/The Safran Company Production, A James Gunn Film, Superman, which will be in theaters and IMAX® nationwide on July 11, 2025, and internationally beginning 9 July 2025, distributed by Warner Bros. Pictures.
MICHAEL CHAVES: I love the ‘80s—I was born in the ‘80s, and The Conjuring: Last Rites is right smack dab mid-‘80s. It’s 1986. And we really dug into the period with the design, music, costumes and things like a Ghostbusters reference. It’s also really interesting to see the Warrens in this phase of their lives. We’ve been on a journey with these characters—we’ve seen them in the ‘60s and the ‘70s. But now, the world has changed. And in many ways, the world’s moved beyond them. I think that’s very powerful—the idea that they’ve retired and now, what they’re doing has become a joke. People have forgotten the impact that they’ve had. I think that’s a really interesting and kind of tense place to start from. And on top of that, they’re struggling with the idea of their daughter all grown up and starting to move on. So, also letting go of her.
The Smurl case…
MICHAEL CHAVES: The Smurl case was a real haunting in West Pittston, Pennsylvania, and it went on from the mid-‘80s into the ‘90s. The Warrens were involved. The Smurls lived in a duplex, with the family living next door to their parents, so three generations. They started experiencing supernatural activity on the day of their daughter’s confirmation—a light fell on them, which is seemingly innocuous. But it escalated over the years to levels that could not be disregarded.
And while the Smurls were going through their haunting, with their family beginning to fall apart—the Warrens are basically retired, they’re out of the game and in a safe spot. We know something is going on with Judy and there’s this dark inevitability that’s hanging over them. That’s a really striking place to start. Your heroes have hung it up. But there’s a sense of unease, because even though it seems like they’re happy, that they’ve dodged a bullet and are no longer taking cases, we know they’re going to get pulled back in. Moreover, we know that that one last job also has every possibility of destroying them.
Diving into the research…
MICHAEL CHAVES: In my movies, if there’s a real case, I’m going to do a deep dive into it, and meet and talk to as many people involved as I can. There’s also obviously research into the period—in The Nun II, I went through all kinds of great 1950s photography that we leaned into as we were making the film. So, we looked at the period, but I also did a lot of Zoom interviews with the four Smurl sisters. Talking to them about their experience was really powerful.
The interesting thing is, over the course of working on these movies—and I’ve heard Peter [Safran] echoing this—I’ve become a believer. And a big part of that is just hearing these experiences. I think it was really hard on the Smurls—it’s not something they wanted to do. They didn’t ask to be haunted, and their friends and neighbors turned against them. They didn’t believe them. They thought they were crackpots. And you come to realize the weight that that put on them. How easy it would have been to say, “We’re making it up.” But it really did weigh on them, and it weighs on them to this day. The other thing I took from speaking to them—something which I’ve always known—is what an impact the real Warrens had on them. It’s easy to fall in love with Patrick and Vera, their versions of Ed and Lorraine, but we have to remember these were real people who went around to these places and tried to help countless people who had nowhere else to turn to. What an impact they had.
The new generation…
MICHAEL CHAVES: Judy is the Warren’s daughter in all the Conjuring movies and in real life. She’s kind of been a secondary character, but in this movie, we wanted to reorient that and really show that their child is the most important thing in their life. We could also start going into a perspective that we hadn’t really thought of, which is, “What is it like to grow up as a Warren? What is it like to grow up in the shadow of your parents? And what is it like to grow up with the power that you’ve inherited from your mother?” This has always been an issue that Judy and Lorraine have struggled with, and we really ran with that. This power has given Judy the ability to see things, and sometimes those things are terrible. Not quite sure how to deal with it, Lorraine gave her the advice to just shut it out. It seemed like a good solution at the time, but it really was just wallpapering over the bigger issue—something that will have to be reckoned with, something that is going to come back and possibly get her. That gave us a resounding opportunity to really explore.
Finding Judy and Tony…
MICHAEL CHAVES: Mia Tomlinson was such a find, such an amazing actress. She came in and originally I had her read for young Lorraine—and she did an incredible job. I was really trying to sell her on it. But she was really polite and respectful, and she said, “I really want to go for Judy—it’s the part that really speaks to me.” She was honestly the first Judy that we had seen. She read for Judy, and she was incredible—even better than she had done with young Lorraine. Everyone was so impressed by her. To be honest, I was a little bit heartbroken that she wasn’t going to play young Lorraine, but I realized that without a doubt, there was no one else who could play Judy. She brought so much to the part, including this fragility. Judy hasn’t been able to be able to stand on her own because she’s been sheltered by her mom. And I think that she really got that. She also had such a great connection with Vera, and the two of them really built this layered, beautiful relationship together. There are these moments between mothers and daughters—the whispering, the coded language—that we dads find ourselves outside of. In the scene in the restaurant, they both play that so wonderfully. It’s instantly recognizable and transmits how palpably close this mother and daughter are. They nailed it.
And Ben Hardy just rocked the part of Tony. I’ve always been a fan of his. He brought so much more to the part—he was disarming and funny, and kind of a klutz when he needed to be. He also gives Tony this quiet depth. He has a scene with Patrick and tells this story of a key moment in his life when everything changed. And you realize that this is a guy who’s lived a life and has come away with this great shift in his perspective. Patrick and he just charged that scene. Up until then, in the beginning, he’s just this guy that Judy’s brought into their lives. They barely know this guy. And you can feel all of this comedic tension. And Ed is like, “Hey, why the rush with my daughter?” Then he tells this story, and how the experience has given him a new view on life. To take advantage of every moment in every day. And it’s a really “stop and listen” reveal. Ben handled it so beautifully. And in that moment, the door opens, and he is on his way to becoming a Warren.
An honest-to-goodness haunting…
MICHAEL CHAVES: When talking about making these movies, the question that always comes up is “Did anything spooky ever happen on set?” And my answer now is “Yes.” My experiences on The Conjuring: Last Rites have made me a believer. That is because of two things, the first having talked extensively with the Smurls and the conviction they had in telling their story. They’re totally honest, reasonable, smart people, and this was something that was really a wound that they dealt with. It was a jarring, traumatic event. It resonated with me incredibly.
And while shooting in England, I swear to God I was living in a haunted house. It was called The Old Vicarage—one of those places that doesn’t even have an address, just a name. It was in this lovely neighborhood. And though I usually would go for a small place, I had my family with me, so we wound up at The Old Vicarage. It was called that because vicars, when they came to town and were working at the church, would reside there. The place was probably a couple hundred years old.
Over the course of living there, my daughter thought she saw something, and she took a picture of it with her iPad—it’s pretty dark and fuzzy, as you would imagine. Being somewhat of a natural skeptic, I was like “There’s nothing there. Sweetie, I don’t see anything.” She was insistent. “Can’t you see it? There’s someone standing there and it looks like a priest. It looks like he has that collar around his neck.” I don’t know if she was spooked because I had just finished The Nun II, but she was convinced about it.
Now, word was going around in this neighborhood about a rash of burglaries. Everyone was on high alert. My family had gone into London one night, and I was home alone doing what I do late at night and playing video games. And I hear voices coming from around the house. I turn off the lights to try and see what’s outside. Then I realize the voices are not outside—they’re coming from upstairs. I don’t even know what their 911 number is, so I grab a fireplace tool and start upstairs. I can clearly hear two male voices, two guys talking to each other. Now, I’m scared, but I keep going. I search from one room to the next. It’s this really interesting three-story house, and everything is at sort of weird Harry Potter English angles. And I continue into every single room on both upper floors. And there is no one in that house—and the voices suddenly stop. And at first, I’m relieved, I think, “Well, at least I’m not getting robbed,” because I’d have no clue how to deal with that. Then I realized that, I swear to God, those voices were there, and I was convinced it was a haunting. I know that something was there. I’m a total believer, and I apologize for any other interview where I might have been dismissive or just tossed off an answer. It happened to me.
Honoring the Warrens and passing it on…
MICHAEL CHAVES: The real Warrens touched so many lives. There were so many people who were in need, dealing with hauntings or unexplained behavior. And the Warrens were there—they traveled across the country to listen to people whom no one believed. The real truth of that is so important. It was real. I also think about how many lives that this series has touched, the fans who have grown up watching it, along with everybody who’s had the pleasure of working on it. It’s been such an amazing ride and experience, and something I’m extremely lucky to have been a part of.
MICHAEL CHAVES (Director / Executive Producer) made his feature directorial debut in 2019 with THE CURSE OF LA LLORONA for New Line Cinema, which earned more than $123 million at the global box office. Chaves went on to direct THE CONJURING: THE DEVIL MADE ME DO IT and THE NUN II, with Atomic Monster and The Safran Company producing. THE CONJURING: THE DEVIL MADE ME DO IT and THE NUN II are the eighth and ninth films in the CONJURING Universe, which has generated more than $2.3 billion worldwide and is the largest horror franchise in history. Chaves also directed the award-winning short THE MAIDEN. An accomplished commercial director, Chaves has directed spots for such clients as Microsoft, Samsung, Audi and Ford. He also directed Billie Eilish’s acclaimed “Bury a Friend” music video.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on The Quiet Craft of Polishing Prose
Once your novel has been rewritten, revised, and edited, there remains one final, often overlooked ritual: paragraph polishing. This is not a mechanical sweep for typos or grammar slips—it’s a deeper, more intuitive process. It’s where prose is coaxed into rhythm and resonance, where each paragraph is tuned to breathe with the life of the story.
Begin by reading aloud. Let the words meet air. Listen for breath and cadence. Does the language dance, drag, or drift? The ear catches what the eye misses—awkward phrasing, unintended repetition, or flat rhythm. Vary sentence lengths to create musicality: short bursts can punctuate tension, while longer lines cradle reflection. A paragraph should feel like a piece of music, its tempo rising and falling with emotional intent.
Next, interrogate the paragraph’s purpose. Is it building tension, offering exposition, or releasing emotion? Each paragraph should carry its own mini arc—beginning with intention, ending with impact. A paragraph that meanders without direction weakens the spine of the story. Ask: what does this paragraph do? What does it feel like? What does it leave behind?
Then, trim the excess. Cut filler words unless they serve voice. Replace abstractions with concrete imagery that pulses with meaning. Instead of “he felt sad,” try “his chest hollowed like a gutted room.” Texture matters. Infuse the paragraph with sensory detail—sounds, smells, emotional temperature. Let the reader feel the space, not just understand it.
Transitions matter too. Paragraphs should flow into each other with emotional logic. Check for echoes—subtle repetitions of rhythm, image, or theme that create resonance across the page. These echoes are the connective tissue of your narrative, the quiet threads that bind chapters into a whole.
Polishing isn’t just about clarity. It’s about honouring the pulse beneath the prose. It’s about ensuring every paragraph carries weight, breath, and rhythm. It’s the difference between a story that reads and a story that lives.
In this final stage, you become less editor and more composer. You’re not just fixing; you’re listening. You’re not just refining; you’re attuning. Paragraph polishing is where the novel exhales, where silence meets sentence, and where the reader’s heartbeat begins to sync with your own.
So take your time. Read slowly. Listen deeply. And let every paragraph pulse.
If you have completed the draft of a screenplay, stageplay, or manuscript for a novel, it is vital to find out whether or not your story works. It could mean the end of all your hard work and your career as a writer if you hand poorly written and undeveloped projects over to producers, directors, publishers or potential investors.
Dear Sis Dolly is a South African comedy-drama film currently in development, inspired by the iconic advice column from Drum Magazine.
The story centers on Mmabotsana, a brilliant but struggling psychologist in her late 30s who applies for the role of agony aunt—“Sis Dolly”—as a last-ditch effort to save her floundering practice in Mamelodi. Mmabotsana must compete against two younger, equally ambitious candidates—Rameetsa and Paseka—during a three-month probation period. The winner will be chosen by the enigmatic Editor-in-Chief, Melody “MM” Makaringe, to become the next Sis Dolly, a national figure known for heartfelt and honest advice.
As Mmabotsana navigates the cutthroat world of media, she’s forced to redefine her identity, learning that being “real” is just as important as being “clever.”
The film promises to blend humor, emotional depth, and cultural insight—much like the column itself. It’s a celebration of vulnerability, wisdom, and the power of storytelling.
Dear Sis Dolly is a beloved advice column featured in Drum Magazine, where readers write in with deeply personal questions about love, relationships, family, and life’s toughest dilemmas. Sis Dolly responds with heartfelt, no-nonsense guidance that blends empathy, cultural insight, and a touch of tough love. Her responses often tackle issues like betrayal, self-worth, parenting struggles, and romantic confusion—always with the goal of helping readers find clarity and confidence. The column has become a trusted space for South Africans seeking advice that feels both real and relatable. Whether someone’s asking “Does he want me or just sex?” or “How do I forgive her for infecting me?”, Sis Dolly offers wisdom that’s rooted in lived experience and emotional honesty.
It flips the script by making the Predator a young outcast named Dek, seeking redemption, played by Dimitrius Schuster-Koloamatangi. On a hostile alien world, Dek is cast out by his clan for being weak. After a brutal confrontation with his father and the death of his brother, Dek escapes to a planet where even Predators are prey. There, he forms an uneasy alliance with Thia, a synthetic android created by Weyland-Yutani, played by Elle Fanning. Together, they face a terrifying apex creature known only as the Kalisk.
The Screenplay was crafted by Dan Trachtenberg and Patrick Aison. Trachtenberg cites influences from Conan the Barbarian, Mad Max 2, Shadow of the Colossus, and even Shakespearean drama. The film is described as operatic, emotional, and visually bombastic, with every shot involving VFX work.
Predator: Badlands weaves itself into the Alien universe in some pretty intriguing ways—without going full Xenomorph (yet).
The most direct connection is through Thia, the synthetic android played by Elle Fanning. She’s a product of Weyland-Yutani, the infamous corporation from the Alien franchise known for its obsession with bio-weapons and synthetic life. The film hints at systems like Mother, the onboard AI from Alien. Dek’s ship includes skulls that resemble creatures from Alien and even Independence Day, suggesting a broader sci-fi multiverse.
Dan Trachtenberg has said he didn’t just toss in Weyland-Yutani for fan service. He wanted to explore deeper crossover themes—pairing a Predator with a robot was his way in. He’s teased that this could lay the groundwork for a more meaningful Alien vs. Predator film down the line.
Many believe Badlands is secretly laying the groundwork for a full-blown Alien vs. Predator reboot.
Dan Trachtenberg and Patrick Aison reimagined the Predator mythos by stripping it down to its primal essence and rebuilding it with cultural depth, emotional resonance, and historical authenticity. Their collaboration on Prey (2022) marked a radical departure from the franchise’s usual futuristic settings, instead placing the alien hunter in 1719 among the Comanche Nation, where survival and tradition collide.
The Predator was redesigned to be more primal and less technologically advanced, emphasizing brute strength and instinct over gadgets. This version of the Predator is younger, more reckless, and driven by a competitive nature, not just survival.
They worked closely with Comanche experts to ensure respectful and accurate representation, even releasing a Comanche-language dub of the film. The setting and characters reflect Comanche folklore, survival rituals, and the tribe’s relationship with nature and monsters.
Aison’s script focused on character-driven tension, crafting Naru’s arc as a metaphorical rite of passage and a David vs. Goliathshowdown. The film’s title, Prey, mirrors Predator in its double meaning—both hunter and hunted—reinforcing the thematic inversion.
The Predator’s moral code—only hunting worthy opponents—is contrasted with colonial violence, like the French fur trappers who slaughter buffalo for sport.
The film subtly connects to Predator 2 through a flintlock pistol Easter egg, hinting at deeper lore without being heavy-handed.
Together, Trachtenberg and Aison didn’t just reboot the franchise—they reinvigorated it with soul, grit, and a fresh perspective.
Dan Trachtenberg is an American filmmaker and podcast host born on May 11, 1981, in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. He gained widespread recognition with his feature debut 10 Cloverfield Lane (2016), which earned him a Directors Guild of America nomination and established his reputation for suspenseful, character-driven storytelling. Trachtenberg has since directed acclaimed projects like Prey (2022), Predator: Killer of Killers (2025), and Predator: Badlands (2025), bringing fresh vision to the sci-fi genre. His television work includes directing pilot episodes for The Boys, The Lost Symbol, and Stranger Things (2025). A former co-host of The Totally Rad Show and Geekdrome, Trachtenberg also created viral short films like Portal: No Escape. He graduated from Temple University in 2003 and is married to Priscilla Hernandez, with whom he has one daughter.
Patrick Aison is an American screenwriter and producer known for crafting intense, character-driven narratives across television and film. He began his career writing for series like Wayward Pines, Kingdom, and Tom Clancy’s Jack Ryan, where he honed his skills in suspense and action. Aison broke into feature films with Prey (2022), co-writing the story with Dan Trachtenberg and earning an Emmy nomination for Outstanding Writing. His work redefined the Predator franchise by blending historical authenticity with sci-fi horror. Aison continues to shape the universe with Predator: Badlands (2025), and has also contributed to Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes (2024). Known for his collaborative spirit and genre versatility, Aison is a rising voice in modern screenwriting.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Time Hoppers: The Silk Road
The 2025 film Time Hoppers: The Silk Road is a vibrant 3D animated adventure created by Milo Productions Inc., designed to entertain and educate children and families.
Set in the year 2050, the story follows a group of gifted students from the futuristic Aqli Academy who travel back in time to protect history’s greatest scientists from the villainous Dr. Fasid, a rogue alchemist trying to rewrite the past.
Directed and written by Flordeliza Dayrit, the film showcases legendary figures like Ibn Al-Haytham, Al-Khawarizmi, Maryam Astrolabi, and Mansa Musa, highlighting their contributions to science and culture along the Silk Road. With a mix of action, humor, and historical insight, the movie aims to celebrate the diverse civilizations that shaped modern science.
Flordeliza Dayrit’s creative philosophy centers on empowering children—especially Muslim youth—through storytelling that is visually engaging, spiritually uplifting, and culturally authentic.
She believes media has the power not just to entertain, but to shape identity, challenge stereotypes, and spark curiosity about one’s heritage and values. Her work often combines adventurous narratives with deep moral lessons, drawing from both Islamic tradition and universal themes of kindness, courage, and wisdom.
Dayrit is passionate about using animation and interactive media to bridge cultural gaps. She emphasizes the importance of creating content where Muslim children can see themselves as heroes, scientists, and explorers—not just side characters. Her leadership at Milo Productions Inc. and Muslim Kids TV reflects a dedication to building a global ecosystem of creatives who share her vision for inclusive storytelling.
Time Hoppers: The Silk Road stands out from other educational adventures by blending high-quality animation, historical storytelling, and cultural representation in a way that’s both engaging and meaningful.
Most educational shows (like Magic School Bus or Dora the Explorer) focus on general science or language skills. Time Hoppers dives deep into Islamic history and scientific contributions, spotlighting figures like Al-Khwarizmi and Fatima al-Fihri.
It’s rooted in historical accuracy, guided by researchers from institutions like Bayan Islamic Graduate School and Yaqeen Institute.
Time Hoppers isn’t just educational—it’s empowering, visually rich, and culturally resonant.
Flordeliza Dayrit is a Canadian media artist, writer, and producer known for her pioneering work in faith-based children’s entertainment. Originally from the Philippines, she immigrated to Canada at age 15 and later embraced Islam, channeling her creative talents into projects that celebrate Muslim identity and culture. She began her career in 2004 as co-producer of the documentary series A New Life in a New Land, which explored the Muslim experience in Canada and was broadcast internationally. In 2006, she worked as an art director in Cairo before launching her own children’s series, Hurray for Baba Ali, which garnered over 17 million views on YouTube. In 2014, Dayrit co-founded Muslim Kids TV, a streaming platform dubbed the “Netflix for Muslim children,” offering thousands of educational videos, games, and eBooks across 60+ countries. As Director of Creative Production at Milo Productions Inc., she leads a global team in producing animated series, live-action shows, and interactive media—including the 2025 animated film Time Hoppers: The Silk Road, which she wrote and directed.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Chainsaw Man – The Movie: Reze Arc
Chainsaw Man – The Movie: Reze Arc is a Japanese animated film that adapts the fan-favorite Bomb Girl arc from Tatsuki Fujimoto’s manga.
It was inspired by the Bomb Girl arc from Tatsuki Fujimoto’s original manga—a fan-favorite storyline known for its emotional intensity and explosive action. According to MAPPA president Manabu Otsuka, the decision to adapt this arc as a movie rather than part of a second season was intentional: the story’s cinematic pacing, emotional depth, and visual spectacle made it better suited for the big screen.
The Reze arc is widely loved for its tragic romance and philosophical undertones, making it one of the most anticipated parts of the manga to be animated. The arc has a self-contained emotional journey that fits the format of a feature film better than episodic storytelling.
The explosive battles and surreal imagery lend themselves to high-budget cinematic animation, allowing MAPPA to push the boundaries of style and action.
The arc explores identity, agency, and the human condition through Denji and Reze’s hybrid existence, elevating it beyond typical shonen fare.
The Reze arc wasn’t just chosen for its popularity—it was selected because it’s cinematically powerful, emotionally resonant, and thematically rich.
MAPPA’s visual style supercharges Chainsaw Man – The Movie: Reze Arc by amplifying both its emotional depth and explosive action.
MAPPA is renowned for fluid, high-impact animation, and the Reze arc’s battles—especially Denji vs. Bomb Devil—are choreographed with cinematic precision. The studio uses dynamic camera angles and intense motion blur to heighten the chaos and urgency of each fight, making the viewer feel every explosion and chainsaw rev.
Composer Kensuke Ushio’s haunting score is tightly synced with MAPPA’s visuals, creating a visceral atmosphere that shifts from romantic to terrifying in seconds. The theme song “IRIS OUT” by Kenshi Yonezu complements the visual tone, adding lyrical weight to Reze’s tragic arc.
MAPPA doesn’t just animate the story—they amplify its soul.
The movie continues the story from Season 1 of the anime and dives deeper into Denji’s emotional and explosive encounter with Reze—a mysterious girl with deadly secrets.
Denji, now part of Special Division 4, meets Reze, a charming café worker who quickly becomes a romantic interest. But Reze is no ordinary girl—she’s tied to a Soviet devil program and harbors explosive powers as the Bomb Devil. Their relationship spirals into a brutal conflict, testing Denji’s heart and humanity in ways he’s never faced before.
Tatsuya Yoshihara is a prolific Japanese animator and director born on December 9, 1988. He began his career at age 20 after training at Actas’ internal animation school, quickly rising through the ranks to become an episode director by 21 and a full-fledged director by 23 with Arve Rezzle, part of the Young Animator Training Project. Influenced by Kanada-style animators like Seiya Numata and Hironori Tanaka, Yoshihara is known for his dynamic action sequences and emotionally resonant storytelling. His directorial credits span popular titles such as Black Clover, Monster Musume, and Chainsaw Man, where he served as action director and storyboard artist. In 2025, he takes the reins as director of Chainsaw Man – The Movie: Reze Arc, continuing his collaboration with Studio MAPPA. He is married to fellow animator Kikuko Sadakata.
Hiroshi Seko is a celebrated Japanese screenwriter born in Nagoya, Japan, with a career spanning over a decade in anime storytelling. He began as an episode writer for Panty & Stocking with Garterbelt and Attack on Titan, eventually becoming the head writer for Seraph of the End. Seko’s signature style blends psychological depth with high-stakes drama, evident in his work on acclaimed series like Mob Psycho 100, Vinland Saga, Jujutsu Kaisen, and Chainsaw Man. He frequently collaborates with studios like MAPPA and Wit Studio, and his screenplays have earned multiple awards, including Crunchyroll’s Anime of the Year. In addition to anime, Seko has written novels such as Attack on Titan: Lost Girls, and his film credits include Jujutsu Kaisen 0 and Chainsaw Man – The Movie: Reze Arc (2025), where he continues to shape the emotional core of Fujimoto’s explosive universe
Mortal Kombat II is the blood-soaked sequel to the 2021 reboot. Directed by Simon McQuoid and written by Jeremy Slater, the film dives headfirst into the legendary tournament that fans felt was missing from the first installment.
Mortal Kombat II draws its inspiration from a mix of fan demand, video game lore, and lessons learned from the 2021 reboot.
The film is based on the iconic Mortal Kombat video game series created by Ed Boon and John Tobias. The sequel leans heavily into the tournament format central to the games, which was notably absent from the 2021 movie.
The filmmakers wanted to stay true to the absurdity and brutality of the games, rather than grounding the story in realism. This includes over-the-top fatalities, magical realms, and mythological characters like Raiden and Shao Kahn.
Jeremy Slater, the screenwriter, emphasized making the sequel “bigger, funnier, and more intense” than the first film. The movie was designed to feel like a true Mortal Kombat experience, with emotional stakes, dynamic fights, and fan-service moments that mirror the excitement of playing the game.
Earthrealm’s champions—now joined by cocky Hollywood star Johnny Cage (played by Karl Urban)—must face off against the brutal forces of Outworld, led by the tyrannical Shao Kahn (Martyn Ford). The stakes? The survival of Earth itself. Expect intense martial arts battles, graphic fatalities, and a storyline that finally embraces the tournament format central to the video game lore.
Filming took place in Australia, with epic fight choreography and game-accurate costumes. This sequel promises to deliver everything fans craved: more fatalities, deeper lore, and a tournament that could decide the fate of realms.
Simon McQuoid is an Australian film director and producer born in Perth, Western Australia. He began his career in the advertising world, directing award-winning commercials for global brands like Xbox, PlayStation, and Samsung. His cinematic eye and flair for immersive storytelling led him to helm the 2021 reboot of Mortal Kombat, marking his feature film debut. Known for his meticulous approach to action choreography and visual world-building, McQuoid returned to direct Mortal Kombat II (2025), further cementing his role as a key creative force behind the franchise’s modern revival.
Jeremy Slater, born October 12, 1978, is an American screenwriter and producer celebrated for his genre-spanning work in film and television. A graduate of the University of Notre Dame, Slater created The Exorcist TV series and developed The Umbrella Academy for Netflix. He’s also known for writing Moon Knight for Marvel Studios and co-writing Godzilla x Kong: The New Empire. Slater’s screenwriting blends emotional depth with blockbuster spectacle, making him a natural fit for Mortal Kombat II, which he scripted to be bigger, bloodier, and more faithful to the game’s lore.
Ed Boon, born February 22, 1964, in Chicago, Illinois, is a legendary video game programmer, voice actor, and creative director. He co-created the Mortal Kombat franchise with John Tobias while working at Midway Games, and has remained its guiding force through its evolution under NetherRealm Studios. Boon is the iconic voice behind Scorpion’s “Get over here!” and holds the Guinness World Record for longest-running voice actor in video games. With a background in mathematics and computer science, Boon’s influence on fighting games is profound, blending brutal gameplay with cinematic storytelling.
John Tobias, born August 24, 1969, in Chicago, is a comic book artist, graphic designer, and video game writer best known as the co-creator of Mortal Kombat. Inspired by comic books from a young age, Tobias studied at the Art Institute of Chicago and began his career illustrating The Real Ghostbusters comics. At Midway Games, he crafted the original Mortal Kombat storyline, designed its iconic characters, and built the mythos of realms like Outworld and Netherrealm. After leaving Midway in 1999, he co-founded Studio Gigante and later worked as a consultant and creative director in the gaming industry.
Lioness (2025) is a high-octane action thriller directed by James Nunn and written by Dominic Burns.
Lioness (2025) was inspired by a deep exploration of maternal strength, emotional vulnerability, and the high-stakes world of covert operations. It delivers a pulse-pounding narrative that explores the lengths a mother will go to protect her child, even when the mission threatens to destroy everything she’s fought to rebuild
Screenwriter Dominic Burns envisioned a character who could embody both the tactical prowess of a former black ops leader and the raw emotional intensity of a mother fighting for her child.
The narrative grew from this duality, crafting a storyline that is as much about personal redemption as it is about explosive action.
Director James Nunn wanted to elevate the genre by infusing it with grounded, human tension rather than relying solely on spectacle.
The London setting adds a gritty realism, while the ensemble cast, led by Kate Beckinsale, enhances the film’s emotional weight and dramatic urgency.
At its heart, Lioness is a tale of courage and survival, spotlighting how far someone will go to protect the ones they love—even when their own past is as dangerous as the mission ahead.
In Lioness Kate Beckinsale stars as the formidable leader of a disbanded black ops team who must reunite her squad for one final mission: a daring heist to rescue her kidnapped eight-year-old daughter. Set against the gritty backdrop of London, the film blends emotional intensity with explosive action as Beckinsale’s character navigates betrayal, loyalty, and the ghosts of her past. Joining her are Lewis Tan, bringing martial arts prowess to the team; Alice Krige, adding gravitas and mystery; Rasmus Hardiker and Bailey Patrick, who round out the crew with sharp wit and tactical skill; and Matt Willis and Tom Bennett, whose roles add tension and depth to the unfolding drama.
James Nunn is a British film director born on October 24, 1985, in Sutton, Surrey, England. Known for his dynamic and kinetic style, Nunn has carved a niche in the action-thriller genre with films like One Shot (2021), One More Shot (2024), and Tower Block (2012). Standing at 6 feet tall, he began his career as an assistant director before transitioning to directing, where his flair for high-intensity storytelling and tightly choreographed sequences earned him recognition. His work often features single-location setups and real-time pacing, showcasing his ability to build tension and deliver visceral cinematic experiences. With Lioness (2025), Nunn continues to push boundaries, blending emotional depth with explosive action.
Dominic Burns, born in 1983 in Derby, England, is a multifaceted filmmaker—writer, director, producer, and actor—whose career spans independent horror, sci-fi, and action films. He gained early attention with CUT (2010), the world’s first single continuous-shot horror film, which he wrote, directed, produced, and starred in. Burns is known for his signature “long shot” technique and for shooting many of his films in his home county of Derbyshire. His credits include Airborne (2012), UFO (also known as Alien Uprising), and Allies (2014), and he’s collaborated with cult icons like Jason Mewes and Kevin Smith. As the screenwriter of Lioness, Burns brings his trademark blend of gritty realism and emotional stakes to the story, reinforcing his reputation as a bold voice in British indie cinema.
Anemone is a 2025 drama film marking the highly anticipated return of Daniel Day-Lewis to acting after his 2017 retirement. Directed by his son, Ronan Day-Lewis, the film explores the intricate emotional bonds between fathers, sons, and brothers, unfolding through personal journeys and generational conflict.
Anemone is a meditation on legacy, reconciliation, and the beauty that can emerge from emotional vulnerability.
Set in northern England, the film follows a family fractured by past choices and unresolved tensions. Daniel Day-Lewis stars as a father confronting the ghosts of his decisions. Sean Bean plays his estranged brother, whose reappearance stirs long-buried resentments. Samantha Morton anchors the story as a maternal figure offering quiet strength and perspective. Samuel Bottomley portrays the son caught between generations, searching for identity and understanding, while Safia Oakley-Green plays a close friend whose insight helps bridge emotional divides.
Daniel co-wrote the screenplay with Ronan, making this a deeply personal collaboration.
The title Anemone draws symbolic weight from the flower’s mythological and emotional associations. In Greek mythology, the anemone is linked to the tragic love story of Adonis and Aphrodite, where the flower is said to have sprung from Adonis’s blood after his death. It’s often seen as a symbol of fragility, loss, and fleeting beauty.
Given the film’s focus on family bonds, emotional wounds, and generational conflict, the title likely reflects the delicate, transient nature of relationships—how love and pain intertwine across time. It’s also a nod to the idea that beauty can emerge from heartbreak, much like the flower itself.
Want to explore how this symbolism plays out in the characters or visual design of the film? I’d love to unpack that with you.
Ronan Day-Lewis (born 1998) is a New York City-based painter and filmmaker known for his emotionally charged visual art and emerging voice in cinema. Raised in rural Ireland, he graduated from Yale University in 2020 with a BA in Art. His paintings, often described as “punk Romantic,” blend haunting landscapes with mythic figures and have been featured in exhibitions across New York, Los Angeles, and Hong Kong. Ronan’s work has appeared in Artnet, Cultured Magazine, Hyperallergic, and Vogue, and he’s directed short films including The Sheep and the Wolf, which won Best Independent Short at the IFS Film Festival. In 2025, he made his feature directorial debut with Anemone, a drama co-written with his father, Daniel Day-Lewis, marking a deeply personal collaboration that explores generational conflict and emotional legacy.
Daniel Day-Lewis (born April 29, 1957) is a legendary English-Irish actor widely regarded as one of the greatest performers in cinematic history. Known for his immersive method acting, Daniel has won three Academy Awards for Best Actor—for My Left Foot (1989), There Will Be Blood (2007), and Lincoln (2012)—making him the only male actor to achieve this feat. He trained at the Bristol Old Vic Theatre School and began his career on stage before transitioning to film, where he became known for his transformative roles and intense character preparation. Daniel famously retired from acting twice, first in the late 1990s to pursue shoemaking in Italy, and again in 2017 after Phantom Thread. His return in Anemone marks a rare and intimate re-entry into film, shaped by his collaboration with Ronan. Daniel is married to filmmaker Rebecca Miller, daughter of playwright Arthur Miller, and together they have two sons, including Ronan.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on The Dead of Winter – A merciless kidnap thriller
In The Dead of Winter, directed by Brian Kirk, a widowed fisherwoman, travelling alone through snowbound northern Minnesota, interrupts the kidnapping of a teenage girl. Hours from the nearest town and with no phone service, she realises that she is the young girl’s only hope.
DIRECTOR STATEMENT by Brian Kirk
The Dead Of Winter is a merciless kidnap thriller, set in an epic wilderness, with a beautiful love story at its heart. It’s bursting with emotion and tension, delivers explosive set pieces and wrestles with the timeless question of how we make sense of life in the face of death.
It takes us on an incredible journey into the bleak isolation of Northern Minnesota, where Barb Sorenson, the recently widowed owner of a small fishing tackle store, risks everything to save a stranger. Barb is hopelessly out of her depth, but she’s kept afloat by the memory of her husband. And it’s not in her nature to quit. That’s why we are telling her story.
Emma Thompson, a double Academy Award winner and five-time nominee, brings stature, intelligence and humanity to every role, but we’ve never seen her give a performance like this. Though Barb’s grief is profound, she has no time for self-pity. This moment requires a hero.
Kidnap stories are usually motivated by sex or money, but all our characters are driven by the primal urge to survive. Purple Lady (Judy Greer) is ready to kill to save her own life, and her husband, Camo Jacket (Marc Menchaca) has no choice but to help. Their intended victim (Laurel Madsen) is a suicidal teenager, who discovers what her life is worth when faced with losing it. Everyone is entangled in a dance with death.
The other outstanding character is the natural world, in all its beauty, scale and indifference. This endless landscape of snowbound forests and frozen lakes was a transformative experience to film and creates an enormous canvas for the story.
Alone out here, it’s impossible to avoid a reckoning with your own mortality, or to forget that life is a cycle. Barb knows better than anyone that no-one lives forever, but she is not afraid to die because she has truly known love. That’s why she never gives up and that’s why her story will endure.
BARB (Emma Thompson), the widowed owner of a small fishing tackle store, sets off on a pilgrimage to Lake Hilda, in remotest northern Minnesota. This is where she took her first vacation with her recently deceased husband and this is where she has promised to scatter his ashes. Hit by a blizzard, she gets lost among backroads near the lake and stops for help at an isolated cabin in the woods. Here she discovers a young woman, LEAH (Laurel Marsden), is being held captive by a desperate armed couple. The kidnappers, known only as PURPLE LADY (Judy Greer) and CAMO JACKET (Marc Menchaca) are armed and intent on murder. Spurred on by the memory of her husband, but hours from the nearest town and without any cell phone service, Barb realises she is the young woman’s only hope of survival. What follows is a merciless thriller that plays out in an epic wilderness, with a beautiful love story at its heart.
The film was inspired by a blend of survival thrillers, real-world isolation, and the emotional resilience of women in extreme circumstances.
The story was conceived by writers Nicholas Jacobson-Larson and Dalton Leeb as a character-driven thriller set in the unforgiving wilderness of northern Minnesota. They drew from true accounts of rural isolation and the dangers of winter terrain, crafting a narrative where nature itself becomes a formidable antagonist.
The screenwriter’s approach to the screenplay focused on crafting a character-driven thriller that balances emotional depth with relentless suspense.
Drawing inspiration from real accounts of rural isolation and survival, they built the narrative around a widowed fisherwoman who becomes an unlikely protector in a snowbound wilderness.
The writers emphasised minimalism in dialogue and setting, allowing the stark environment and the characters’ actions to drive the tension.
The screenplay’s lean structure and intense pacing reflect the writers’ intent to create a visceral experience—one where silence, snow, and solitude become as threatening as any villain.
Emma Thompson’s character—a widowed fisherwoman—was written to reflect strength, vulnerability, and the instinct to protect, inspired by stories of women who’ve faced danger alone and persevered. The film’s stark setting and themes of survival, sacrifice, and unexpected heroism were also shaped by Kirk’s interest in exploring how ordinary people respond to extraordinary threats.
Brian Kirk is an Irish film and television director born in 1968 in Armagh, Northern Ireland. He is best known for his work on high-profile series such as Game of Thrones, Luther, Boardwalk Empire, and Dexter, as well as directing the feature films 21 Bridges and The Dead of Winter (2025). Kirk’s career spans both UK and US productions, with a reputation for crafting tense, character-driven narratives across genres. He studied English at Edinburgh University and later earned a postgraduate diploma in Film & Television from Bristol University. His directing style often blends atmospheric tension with emotional nuance, making him a sought-after talent for both television and film.
Nicholas Jacobson-Larson is a Los Angeles-based composer, conductor, and screenwriter. He serves as musical director and arranger for Michael Bublé and has collaborated with artists like Paul McCartney and Jon Batiste. As a film composer, he’s scored numerous acclaimed documentaries, including the Oscar-winning The Queen of Basketball. In screenwriting, he partners with Dalton Leeb, co-authoring projects like Endurance (Netflix), Hot Wheels (Warner Bros), and The Dead of Winter. Their script Strongman earned a spot on the 2017 Black List. Jacobson-Larson’s creative range spans concert compositions, film scores, and narrative storytelling, reflecting a deep versatility across disciplines.
Dalton Leeb is an American actor and screenwriter known for his roles in indie films such as Feeding Mr. Baldwin and One Day Like Rain, as well as appearances in TV series like Greek. As a writer, he collaborates with Nicholas Jacobson-Larson on screenplays that blend emotional depth with genre storytelling. Their work includes The Dead of Winter, Hot Wheels, and Endurance, with Strongman earning critical acclaim on the Black List. Leeb’s background in performance informs his writing, bringing a grounded, character-focused sensibility to his scripts. He maintains a dual career in acting and writing, with multiple projects in development across film and television.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Gabby’s Dollhouse: The Movie
Gabby’s Dollhouse: The Movie is a whimsical, live-action/CGI hybrid adventure from DreamWorks Animation.
The film was inspired by the massive success and heartfelt charm of the original Gabby’s Dollhouse preschool series, created by Traci Paige Johnson and Jennifer Twomey. The show’s unique blend of live-action and animation, surprise unboxing, and whimsical cat-themed adventures resonated with kids and families worldwide, becoming one of Netflix’s top preschool hits.
Based on the beloved preschool series, the film follows Gabby (played by Laila Lockhart Kraner) and her Grandma Gigi (Gloria Estefan) on a road trip to the urban wonderland of Cat Francisco. But things take a magical detour when Gabby’s prized dollhouse ends up in the hands of eccentric cat lady Vera (Kristen Wiig), sparking a real-world quest to reunite the Gabby Cats and save the dollhouse before it’s too late.
Gabby’s Dollhouse: The Movie was directed by Ryan Crego, known for his work on Arlo the Alligator Boy and Home: Adventures with Tip & Oh.
Crego also co-wrote the screenplay alongside Melanie Wilson LaBracio, Adam Wilson, Faryn Pearl, Kirk DeMicco, and Elisa Bell.
The film was produced by Steven Schweickart, with series creators Traci Paige Johnson and Jennifer Twomey serving as executive producers. Their combined storytelling experience helped bring the whimsical world of Gabby and her magical dollhouse to life on the big screen.
Ryan Crego is a writer, director, producer, and voice actor born and raised in Northern California. He’s best known for creating and directing Arlo the Alligator Boy and its companion series I ♥ Arlo for Netflix. With a background in animation and music, Crego has contributed to major titles like Kung Fu Panda 2, Puss in Boots, and Shrek Forever After. His storytelling often blends heartfelt optimism with quirky humor, and he brings that same spirit to Gabby’s Dollhouse: The Movie as its director and co-writer.
Melanie Wilson LaBracio is an accomplished writer and producer specializing in children’s entertainment. Alongside her brother Adam Wilson, she’s co-written for beloved series like Muppet Babies, If You Give a Mouse a Cookie, Treehouse Detectives, and Tumble Leaf. She’s also the creator of The Adventures of Knickerbock Teetertop. Known for her lyrical storytelling and knack for whimsical worlds, Melanie helped shape the screenplay for Gabby’s Dollhouse: The Movie.
Adam Wilson, Melanie’s writing partner and brother, is a seasoned screenwriter with a focus on preschool and family content. Together, the Wilson siblings have built a reputation for crafting imaginative, character-driven stories across television and stage. Their collaborative work includes Disney on Ice, Marvel Universe Live, and multiple streaming series. Adam’s contributions to Gabby’s Dollhouse: The Movie reflect his playful narrative style and deep understanding of young audiences.
Faryn Pearl is a director, writer, and storyboard artist whose career spans both television and feature animation. Raised in New Jersey, she discovered her passion for storytelling through drawing and acting, eventually co-directing Ruby Gillman: Teenage Kraken for DreamWorks. Pearl’s work is known for its humor, emotional clarity, and vibrant character design. Her role as co-writer on Gabby’s Dollhouse: The Movie adds a fresh, expressive voice to the film’s creative team.
Kirk DeMicco is an acclaimed filmmaker with a rich history in animated storytelling. He co-wrote and directed The Croods, earning an Academy Award nomination, and later directed Vivo and Ruby Gillman: Teenage Kraken. A graduate of USC, DeMicco began his career as a journalist in Italy before transitioning to screenwriting and directing. His work often explores themes of family, adventure, and self-discovery, making him a natural fit for the whimsical world of Gabby.
Elisa Bell is a veteran screenwriter whose career spans over two decades in Hollywood. She’s known for writing Vegas Vacation, Sleepover, and Little Black Book, and has worked with industry icons like Steven Spielberg and Diane Keaton. Bell’s writing blends comedy, mystery, and heartfelt drama, and her contribution to Gabby’s Dollhouse: The Movie brings a seasoned perspective to the film’s playful narrative.
Traci Paige Johnson, co-creator of Gabby’s Dollhouse, is an animator, writer, and voice actress best known for creating Blue’s Clues and voicing the iconic pup Blue. A Northwestern University alumna, she pioneered a signature cutout animation style using construction paper and textures. Her work emphasizes creativity, emotional intelligence, and interactivity, which she continues to champion through Gabby’s world.
Jennifer Twomey, also a co-creator of Gabby’s Dollhouse, is a producer and writer with a long history in children’s television. She was a supervising producer on Blue’s Clues and co-created Team Umizoomi. Twomey’s storytelling is known for its educational depth and imaginative flair, and she plays a key role in shaping the heart and humor of Gabby’s adventures.
Loved Out is a quirky indie romantic comedy that delves into chaos, charm, and a touch of criminal intrigue, inspired by the creators’ own chaotic, vibrant lives, particularly the messy intersections of family, identity, and survival in a world that doesn’t always make room for softness.
This South African rom-com draws from real-life experiences and conversations that spilt over into a podcast and social media content, forming a whole creative universe around the story.
Loved Out is a vibrant indie romantic comedy that follows an insecure, brand-obsessed socialite who unexpectedly inherits her missing mother’s restaurant. Her plans for reinvention are derailed when she receives a ransom video demanding repayment of a fortune her mother allegedly stole from a shady preacher—money that was meant to be laundered for the city’s most dangerous gangsters. As she scrambles to uncover the truth and navigate the chaos, she’s forced to confront her own identity and the legacy of secrets left behind.
The film stars Jane de Wet as the lead socialite, with support from Shamilla Miller, Louw Venter, and Rob van Vuuren, each bringing quirky charm and emotional depth to the tangled web of relationships and revelations. It blends comedy, suspense, and heartfelt moments into a uniquely South African cinematic experience.
It was directed by Louw Venter, a South African filmmaker known for his sharp eye for performance and instinct for comedy. The screenplay was written by the team behind the Loved Out universe, blending personal anecdotes with a flair for dramatic storytelling.
The Loved Out universeis a multi-platform creative world built around the themes of identity, chaos, and connection. It was launched with the indie romantic comedy Loved Out, which tells the story of a socialite caught in a whirlwind of family secrets and criminal entanglements. But the creators didn’t stop there.
They expanded the narrative through podcasts, where real-life experiences and behind-the-scenes stories are shared, adding depth and authenticity to the fictional world.
On social media, they continue the conversation with fans, offering exclusive content, character insights, and interactive storytelling.
Thesoundtrack also plays a key role, reflecting the emotional highs and lows of the characters and setting the tone for the universe’s quirky, heartfelt vibe.
It’s a layered, immersive experience that invites audiences to engage with the story beyond the screen.
Louw Venter is a South African actor, writer, director, and comedian who began his career in the early 2000s, gaining recognition for his sharp comedic timing and creative storytelling. Venter is best known for his work in both film and television, including standout roles in Kalushi: The Story of Solomon Mahlangu, Konfetti, and the TV series Swartwater. He co-created and starred in the cult comedy The Most Amazing Show alongside Rob van Vuuren, forming the beloved duo Corné and Twakkie. Beyond acting, Venter has written and directed several acclaimed projects, such as the award-winning feature film Stam, which premiered at the Durban International Film Festival. His work often blends humour with poignant social commentary, and he’s been recognised with multiple awards, including SAFTA nominations and festival honours. With a background in visual arts and a passion for storytelling, Venter continues to be a dynamic force in South African entertainment.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Chickenhare and the Secret of the Groundhog
Chickenhare and the Secret of the Groundhog (2025) is a vibrant animated adventure directed by Benjamin Mousquet, and serves as a sequel to Chickenhare and the Hamster of Darkness (2022).
Produced by nWave Studios, Octopolis, and Sony Pictures International, the film continues the whimsical saga of Chickenhare—a half-chicken, half-hare hero—on a quest that’s as heartwarming as it is high-stakes.
This time, Chickenhare sets out to find a mysterious groundhog said to possess the power to reverse time, a mythical ability that may be the only hope to save his species. Alongside his loyal companions Abe and Meg, he journeys through treacherous landscapes, facing rival factions and ancient obstacles. But they’re not the only ones chasing the legend, and the race against time becomes a test of courage, friendship, and self-discovery.
Chickenhare and the Secret of the Groundhog draws inspiration from a blend of mythic storytelling, ecological urgency, and the emotional resonance of hybrid identity. Rooted in the graphic novels by Chris Grine, the film expands the whimsical world of Chickenhare—a creature born of two species—into a deeper quest for belonging and restoration.
The idea of a groundhog with the power to reverse time taps into folklore and the universal longing to undo loss, making the story both playful and profound.
The sequel builds on themes introduced in Chickenhare and the Hamster of Darkness, but this time with higher stakes: extinction, ancestral memory, and the death of the Tree of Life. The creators seem to channel classic adventure tropes—hidden mountains, rival factions, ancient powers—through a lens of emotional growth and ecological metaphor. It’s a tale where time isn’t just a plot device, but a symbol of healing, legacy, and the courage to rewrite one’s fate.
Chickenhare and the Secret of the Groundhog carries a whimsical yet resonant significance beneath its animated surface.
At its heart, the film is a fable about identity, legacy, and the courage to rewrite fate. Chickenhare—a creature born of two worlds—embarks on a quest not just to save his species, but to reclaim agency over time itself. The mythical groundhog, said to possess the power to reverse time, becomes a symbol of second chances and ancestral healing. As Chickenhare and his companions navigate rival factions and ancient landscapes, the story unfolds as a metaphor for embracing difference, confronting extinction, and daring to believe that the past need not define the future.
The film’s significance also lies in its layered storytelling: it’s a family-friendly adventure that gently introduces themes of ecological loss, personal transformation, and mythic responsibility. By blending humor, action, and emotional depth, it invites viewers—young and old—to consider what it means to belong, to remember, and to act before it’s too late.
Benjamin Mousquet is a Belgian animation director known for his work on visually rich, emotionally resonant family films. He began his career as a layout artist and animator on titles like A Turtle’s Tale and Bigfoot Family, gradually honing a style that blends kinetic adventure with heartfelt storytelling. His directorial debut, Chickenhare and the Hamster of Darkness (2022), introduced audiences to the quirky hybrid hero Chickenhare, and its success paved the way for the sequel, Chickenhare and the Secret of the Groundhog (2025). Mousquet’s direction is marked by playful worldbuilding, mythic undertones, and a deep affection for outsider protagonists navigating epic quests.
Chris Grine, the original creator of the Chickenhare graphic novels published by Dark Horse Comics, brings a whimsical yet emotionally grounded sensibility to the screen. His storytelling often centers on hybrid identities, ecological themes, and mythic adventure, making him a natural fit for the film’s narrative expansion. Grine’s visual imagination and character-driven humor infuse the screenplay with heart and depth, bridging comic origins with cinematic flair.
Dave Collard, co-screenwriter of the film, is known for his work in animated storytelling that balances comedy, action, and emotional resonance. While his full biography remains under wraps, his contribution to Chickenhare and the Secret of the Groundhog reflects a talent for crafting high-stakes, family-friendly narratives that pulse with urgency and warmth. Together with Grine, Collard helps shape a tale that’s both mythic and intimate—where time travel, extinction, and belonging converge in a vibrant animated world.
Chris Grine is an American comic book artist and writer celebrated for his quirky, emotionally resonant storytelling. He’s best known as the creator of Chickenhare, a graphic novel series first published by Dark Horse Comics in 2006, which earned an Eisner Award nomination for “Best Publication for a Younger Audience” in 2007. Grine’s work often blends humor, adventure, and mythic undertones, with a particular focus on hybrid identities and outsider protagonists. Beyond Chickenhare, his portfolio includes titles like Time Shifters, The Secrets of Camp Whatever, and graphic novel adaptations of Animorphs, showcasing his versatility across genres and age groups. Grine currently works at Hallmark, where his creative flair extends to projects like “165 Bots with Stuff” featured on the Shoebox blog. His storytelling is marked by visual inventiveness and emotional depth, making him a natural fit for animated adaptations like Chickenhare and the Secret of the Groundhog (2025), where his original characters leap from page to screen.
The Heart Is a Muscle (2025) is a South African drama-thriller written and directed by Imran Hamdulay, marking his debut feature.
Set in Cape Town’s Cape Flats, the film follows Ryan (Keenan Arrison), a young father whose five-year-old son briefly goes missing during a birthday barbecue. Ryan’s violent reaction to the scare sets off a chain of events that unearth buried secrets, disrupt friendships, and force a reckoning with his past. What begins as panic spirals into a journey of masculinity, transgenerational trauma, and forgiveness.
The Heart Is a Muscle was inspired by a real-life moment that unfolded at a friend’s barbecue—much like the inciting incident in the film.
Director Imran Hamdulay witnessed a brief scare when a child went missing, and although the child was quickly found, the emotional ripple of that moment lingered. It sparked deeper questions about adulthood, masculinity, and the inherited patterns we carry into parenthood. Hamdulay, reflecting on his own transition into fatherhood and the complexities of male identity, began writing the film as a way to explore how men confront guilt, shame, and the desire to be better than the past that shaped them.
Rather than offering easy answers, the film wrestles with difficult questions: What does it mean to be a good father? Can we truly forgive ourselves? How do we break cycles of violence without losing our sense of self?
Hamdulay intended to examine these themes with compassion, not judgment, deconstructing masculinity while honouring the emotional nuance of flawed characters trying to heal.
Imran Hamdulay is a Cape Town–based writer, director, and producer whose work blends emotional nuance with sharp social insight. A Berlinale Talents alumnus and recipient of the Robert Bosch Stiftung award, Hamdulay has emerged as one of Africa’s most compelling cinematic voices. His short films have screened at international festivals including Guam, Goa, Luxor, Durban, and Moscow, where he earned accolades for Best Director, Cinematography, and Film. Raised in a family of writers and activists, he brings a deep sense of empathy and political awareness to his storytelling, often exploring themes of memory, masculinity, and generational reckoning. His screenplays have been featured in prestigious labs and markets such as EAVE, IFFR Cinemart, and Gotham Film Week, and he currently serves as a jury member for the South African Film & Television Awards. Hamdulay co-wrote and produced the award-winning thriller Sons of the Sea, and his directorial debut feature The Heart Is a Muscle premiered at Berlinale 2025, marking a bold new chapter in his career.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on The Long Walk: A journey of nonstop intensity and high emotion
Adapted from Stephen King’s first masterwork,The Long Walk is about stepping into your greatest humanity when there’s nothing else left to give.
Set in a post-war America where money is short and military despots rule, a chilling annual contest rivets a rattled nation. Fifty boys picked by lottery enter a televised marathon of pure will. The boys must walk, and keep walking, until they drop. If, for any reason, or for even a few moments, they fall below a pace of 3MPH they receive a warning. Three warnings and they’re out. Only one contestant can survive. But the winner is granted the ultimate prize: riches beyond belief and any wish he desires.
Overseen by a merciless Major, the contest is the ultimate expression of every man for himself. When local kid Ray Garraty arrives at the starting line, he knows this soul-crushing reality as well as anyone. But as Ray and the other boys enter the unremitting peril of the walk, each for his own reasons, they discover a starkly moving camaraderie. With every nerve-wracking step, the walkers confront questions about what makes life worth living, what turns a stranger into a brother, and where strength comes from as they forge bonds that can be shattered but never forgotten. Torn between his fierce drive to win and to keep his friends safe, Ray realizes their greatest defiance may be caring about one another.
Fueled by an urgency that doesn’t quit, and a total immersion into the life-or-death contest’s ceaseless flow, director Francis Lawrence has envisioned a one-of-a-kind perpetual motion movie. Along with a vibrant young ensemble and inventive crew he brings to life a world of relentless endurance and last-ditch hope that is a confounding mirror to our own.
With total commitment to the real, Lawrence developed a strategy of shooting in strict linear order. This way, the actors would evolve with the characters, and the audience could clock them changing before their eyes, their bodies deteriorating from walking tens of miles per day, their thoughts unraveling, yet their spirits toughening.
Says Lawrence, “It was baked in from the beginning that we could not pull any punches in telling this intense story. And we knew this movie needed to be made very differently from any we’ve ever made before. Because, when that gun goes off and the boys start walking, we needed to be moving at 3MPH with them until the final step.”
The Long Walk confronts the haunting question: how far would you go to survive when the finish line is death itself?
Set in a totalitarian America, the story follows 100 teenage boys forced into a deadly endurance contest: walk continuously at a pace above three miles per hour, or be executed.
The film centres on Ray Garraty (Cooper Hoffman), a 16-year-old from Maine, as he joins the annual Long Walk alongside fellow competitors Peter McVries (David Jonsson), Stebbins (Garrett Wareing), and others. As the miles stretch on, friendships form, rivalries intensify, and the psychological toll deepens. Presiding over the event is the Major (Mark Hamill), a chilling authority figure who delivers death sentences with cold detachment. With a score by Jeremiah Fraites of The Lumineers and a cast that includes Judy Greer, Charlie Plummer, Roman Griffin Davis, and Ben Wang, the film blends existential dread with emotional intimacy.
Statement from Director Francis Lawrence
When I first read Stephen King’s The Long Walk over twenty years ago, there was something about its simplicity — a group of young men walking — that struck me as both horrifying and deeply human. Over the years, I kept coming back to it in my mind, thinking about what it would mean to bring this story to the screen. And one day, as fate would have it, I walked past the book sitting on a shelf in my home and wondered what was happening with the adaptation. Hours later, Roy Lee called me out of the blue and asked me if I would be interested in directing.
More so than the thrilling walk-or-die concept, what really stuck with me over the years is the camaraderie that develops among the walkers. Even though they’re technically competitors, they can’t help but bond, forming friendships that feel raw and authentic. The relationship between Garraty and McVries, in particular, is what gives the story its emotional center. It’s a connection that reveals who these characters are beneath the pressure, and it’s what I believe will make audiences care deeply about them.
Another aspect I adore most about The Long Walk is the intimacy of the story set against this larger-than-life contest. We’re right there with the boys every step of the way, sharing their exhaustion, fear, and fleeting moments of hope. It’s a rare opportunity to make a film that feels both epic and personal, where the tension comes not just from the stakes of the walk, but from the relationships that develop along the way.
But beyond the conceit of the story, the emotion, and the characters, what I hope makes THE LONG WALK resonate is its deeper meaning as a metaphor for the erosion of the American dream. Stagnating wages, inflation, cost of living and other financial pressures have made so many feel like their goals have become unattainable and their earnings pointless. This sense of financial and existential nihilism can be seen across America and throughout the world. The Long Walk takes this idea to the furthest extreme, depicting an America where people have been left with no better choice than to risk their lives to try and secure a better future, to pay for a roof over their heads, or to put food on the table. Originally written in 1967 as an allegory for the Vietnam War, somehow King’s novel feels just as relevant and timely in 2025.
My goal with this film is to honour what makes King’s novel such a powerful experience: the unforgettable characters, the relentless pace, and the uncomfortable questions it asks about who we are and what we value. I want audiences to leave the theatre thinking not just about what they’ve seen, but about the world they’re part of.
Director Francis Lawrence, Cooper Hoffman as Garraty, and David Jonsson as McVries in The Long Walk. Photo Credit: Murray Close/Lionsgate
Brotherhood from the ruins
Stephen King is one of the most beloved writers of all time, the boundless imagination behind international bestsellers that have haunted and seared the global psyche. Yet perhaps the most provocative and acclaimed movie adaptations of his works have ventured far beyond his famed mastery of horror. These include Stand By Me, a powerful remembrance of boyhood friendship, The Shawshank Redemption, an inspirational tale of prison survival, and Misery, a psychological thriller about obsession.
Now comes the long-anticipated adaptation of the very first novel King wrote. Intriguingly, there was nothing supernatural about it. Instead, it was a feverishly suspenseful exploration of human nature at its worst and its best. Written with a point-blank directness, the thriller had mythic elements. The story’s walk-or-die contest, with each entrant vying not to “buy his ticket,” evoked life’s precariousness, but also the random violence of war, the brutality of authoritarianism, the desperation of financial insecurity, and a pop culture that, in an age of Reality TV, would come to thrive on carnage and division.
But at its core was a theme that soon became one of King’s most celebrated: the power of friendship to shine a light in the darkness. In this pitiless competition where a momentary leg cramp, a bad stomach, or a hole in your shoe could mean lights out, a shared laugh or story could sustain one’s soul.
Started when King was just an 18-year-old Freshman in college, The Long Walk was later published in 1979 under his pen name Richard Bachman, five years after King debuted with the instant horror classic Carrie. Over time, the novel built up a devoted following of readers who carried the paperback, and especially the friendship of Ray Garraty and Pete McVries, in their hearts. In 2000, it was named one of the 100 best books for teenagers by the American Library Association.
As early as the 1980s there was chatter about a feature film. The crackling dialogue, sky-high mortal stakes, and mix of shattering and stirring imagery were magnets. But scaling the novel’s pace and first-hand storytelling to the screen proved daunting. Still, there remained a hope the project might one day meet its creative match. That happened when Francis Lawrence, renowned for the elaborately imaginative world-building of The Hunger Games: Catching Fire and the subsequent MockingjayPart I and Part II, came aboard, joined by producers Roy Lee, Steven Schneider, and Cameron MacConomy.
Lawrence took off with an unprecedented idea: to craft a 100% in-motion picture built upon a forward thrust that only ceases at the final frame. He envisioned a relentlessly roving camera tracking a cast actually walking the miles in real-time, as the audience directly experiences their most wrenching and inspiring moments. This world would be profoundly stripped down, bared to life’s most primal sights, sounds, and feelings.
Years before, Lawrence discovered the novel while directing the epic I Am Legend and fell in love with its darkness and light. Alas, the film rights were not then available. He handed the book to one of his sons, for whom it became a favorite. Then, out of the blue, the book came circling back into his life.
“One day, about 2 years ago, I was walking down the hall of my house and saw the book sitting on my son’s shelf. I thought to myself, ‘I haven’t heard about The Long Walk in a long time.’ And that very same day I got a call from producer Roy Lee saying, ‘hey, would you be interested in doing The Long Walk?’ It was this weird thing of it having been in my life for so long, loving the book so much, and then, having this strange, magical day of seeing it again, thinking about it, and Roy calling me.”
Lee, producer and founder of Vertigo Entertainment, is best known for adapting popular Asian horror films for American audiences. A huge fan of King’s entire body of work, he was a producer on 2017’s It and is producing the forthcoming adaptation of Cujo. But he’d long held a special place for King’s novel in his heart. “I had read the book in high school,” Lee says, “and loved it. Then I got a call from Stephen ‘s agent about adapting The Long Walk. I knew it had been attempted several times in the past couple decades but of course, I wanted to give it a shot.”
Lee instantly thought of Lawrence, with whom he’d been working on a film version of the videogame “Bioshock.” “I’ve been so impressed by his whole body of work,” says Lee. “And then we got talking and he told me about how this novel was his son’s favorite book and how much he wanted to do it. From there, everything came together organically.”
Soon after, the filmmakers tapped screenwriter JT Mollner (Strange Darling) to tackle the adaptation. They came to Mollner with a big ask: could he maintain absolute fidelity to the book’s unflinching spirit while reenvisioning it for the screen? Could he render a long, lethal walk down a desolate road into a visually mesmerizing variation on a chase lit up by moments of inner transformation and true bonds?
For Mollner, the connection to Stephen King’s work went back decades. “I was, I think, seven when I read my first grown up novel all the way through. I think it was–I think I was in second grade and it took me like, you know, six months to read a 200-page novel. That novel was Carrie. That book was my gateway to becoming a constant reader. I’ve read almost everything he’s ever written.”
That early passion for King shaped the very way Mollner writes. “I’ve written prose, and most of my living is made as a screenwriter,” he explains. “So much of my voice was influenced by Stephen King growing up—not just when I’m adapting something by him.”
When the project came to him, Mollner was just stepping out of one creative season and into another. “I had just finished directing Strange Darling and knew I needed to recharge,” he says. “I told Roy I wanted to write something next for somebody else. A few days later, he asked if I wanted to write THE LONG WALK.”
“JT is a huge Stephen King fan, and he’d read The Long Walk many times before we even approached him. But even more importantly, JT is not just a writer. He’s a director in his own right, and we knew this screenplay needed a highly visual approach,” explains MacConomy. “When you have a story in which people are walking the entire time, the danger is it could feel repetitive, but JT had the visual knowledge to create dynamic tension through every moment.”
Lee conveyed to Mollner Stephen King’s one proviso. “The unusual condition that Stephen had was that this movie had to be R-rated and it had to be as honestly brutal as the book,” explains the producer.
Mollner says, “I’m one of those guys who usually loves the book and hates the movie—so with this we have to find a way to be really, really loyal to the DNA of the story. What makes it special is this hint of nihilism, but then a tiny bit of hope—this weird amalgamation of things that Stephen King was obviously feeling as a young man. This disillusionment with America, and him creating this sort of hyperbolic version of it.”
Working closely with Lawrence, Mollner compacted the characters and made a few surprising narrative shifts. But he kept King’s grittiness front and center, leaning into what the contestants experience, what they fear, how they ache, and the shocking ways each buys his ticket. By refusing any escape or comfort to the boys, the script only made the love, brotherhood, and passion for life that emerge that much more a revelation. “It was a great collaboration,” says Lawrence. “JT and I got really interested in the problem of how you turn a story that is mainly dialogue into something truly cinematic.”
Mollner echoes that sentiment, praising his director: “It was a great experience because Francis Lawrence is a director with all kinds of knowledge, skill and talent but no ego.”
“Francis really wanted to make a character-driven film, and that was important to me too,” says Mollner. Lawrence and Mollner also uprooted the story from time, setting it an unspecified period 19 years after a war that changed everything, merging a Depression Era dinginess with flashes of modern technology. It is an America chillingly familiar, even nostalgic, in its outlines, but where the dream has clearly faded—not gone, but out of reach for all but a wealthy…or extremely lucky…few. In this context, some have come to believe that any price, even life itself, is worth a shot at a better future.
“You can’t quite peg what period the story takes place, but there’s an American Gothic quality that is timeless,” Lawrence says. “It’s two decades after a terrible war, maybe a Civil War, and the country is now in a severe financial depression. People are desperate and that’s the reason so many are willing to take part in this game. That said, we didn’t want to get too bogged down in details of the government because our focus is entirely these young men, their relationships, and their emotional journey.”
Perceptive casting proved essential to the concept. Says Lee, “Francis made the most amazing choice. He saw things in each of these actors no one else might have seen until they were in character.”
Perceptive casting proved essential to the concept. The filmmakers hand-picked a youthful ensemble buzzing with energy and stamina, but also with the drive to dive deep. Lawrence sought out actors with the courage of their convictions, willing to follow their instincts. He asked each to develop his own personal ideas about his character’s beliefs and blind spots, about how they dress, talk, walk, dream, and plan to survive. Early on, a live-wire table read with the entire cast set the tone. Like the walk’s contestants, they started the day as wary, nervous strangers, blooming into closer comrades.
Reflects MacConomy, “When you throw a dozen guys in their early twenties together, they are going to be bantering, joking, pushing each other, and that was all there. But that became something Francis utilized to make the relationships in the film even more authentic. During the table read, we were able to key into different dynamics between the actors and say, now wouldn’t it be interesting if we did this or that with these two? It added new layers even before the intensity of production.”
Once on set, it was trial-by-fire. Walking up to 10 miles every day, facing their own doubts, and forging their own bonds, the cast found themselves merging into the struggles and ties of their characters. MacConomy continues, “The whole way, the atmosphere on set mirrored the story. We shot entirely in chronological order which meant we started with 50 guys in this lively, fun atmosphere all getting to know each other but soon they had to start saying goodbye to each other.”
Stephen King’s The Long Walk was born from a deeply personal and historical unease: the Vietnam War and the looming specter of the U.S. military draft.
King began writing the novel as a teenager and finished it in college, during a time when young men were being sent to war in staggering numbers. Though he didn’t set out to write a political allegory, the parallels are unmistakable—boys forced into a deadly contest by a faceless authority, with survival hinging on endurance and obedience.
King described the novel as “hopeless” and “merciless,” reflecting the cynicism and dread of being 19 and staring down a future that might include war, trauma, or death. The Long Walk’s dystopian premise—where 100 boys must walk until only one remains alive—echoes the arbitrary cruelty of conscription and the emotional toll of watching peers vanish into conflict. The Major, who oversees the walk with cold detachment, is a chilling stand-in for the systems that send youth to die without remorse.
Director Francis Lawrence, known for The Hunger Games films, was drawn to this brutal emotional terrain. His adaptation leans into the existential horror and psychological unraveling that made King’s early work so haunting. The film doesn’t just ask how far someone can walk—it asks how far a society will go to normalize sacrifice.
The screenplay for The Long Walk was written by JT Mollner. Known for his gritty, character-driven storytelling, Mollner approached the adaptation with deep reverence for Stephen King’s original novel, one he’s cherished since childhood. His lifelong connection to King’s work, especially the darker, more existential themes, made him a fitting choice to translate the merciless tone of the book into a cinematic experience’
FRANCIS LAWRENCE (DIRECTOR, PRODUCER)
Francis Lawrence has built a distinctive career across music videos, commercials, television, and film over the past two decades. Whether directing Lady Gaga’s GRAMMY®-winning “Bad Romance” music video or helming four films in The Hunger Games franchise that grossed $2.6 billion worldwide, Lawrence continues to prove himself as a visionary director and producer with creative storytelling that transcends traditional demographics — conveying artistry on par with some of the world’s most influential artists.
With an eye for discovering emerging talent, Lawrence has assembled a strong ensemble cast — Cooper Hoffman, David Jonsson, Garrett Wareing, Charlie Plummer, and Roman Griffin Davis — with established actors Mark Hamill and Judy Greer. The film will be released exclusively in theaters on September 12, 2025.
Upcoming, Lawrence returns to his fifth film in the Hunger Games franchise with The Hunger Games: Sunrise on the Reaping, scheduled for release on November 20, 2026. In 2024, Lawrence and producer Cameron MacConomy’s production company, about:blank, inked a first-look picture deal with Lionsgate, continuing their long-standing collaboration with the studio. Through about:blank, Lawrence continues to develop projects that balance commercial appeal with creative ambition.
Lawrence made his filmmaking debut in 2005 with Constantine, starring Keanu Reeves and Rachel Weisz, followed by the 2007 post-apocalyptic I Am Legend with Will Smith. His filmography spans genres from the romantic-drama Water for Elephants, released in 2011 and starring Academy Award®-winning actress Reese Witherspoon and Robert Pattinson; to the 2018 spy-thriller Red Sparrow with Jennifer Lawrence; to Netflix’s family adventure Slumberland with Jason Momoa.
The thread connecting Lawrence’s work is his clear ability to find humanity in the spectacular.
His television work includes executive producing and directing AppleTV+’s “See” and STARZ’s ”The Serpent Queen” along with two earlier series, “Kings” and FOX’s “Touch,” starring Kiefer Sutherland.
Prior to his work in film and television, Lawrence established himself directing music videos for well-known artists including Beyoncé, Jay-Z, Britney Spears, and Janet Jackson, and earned GRAMMY® and Latin GRAMMY® awards for his work with Lady Gaga and Shakira. As for Lawrence’s commercial portfolio, it includes campaigns for Gap, Calvin Klein, Coca-Cola, L’Oréal, and others.
JT MOLLNER (SCREENWRITER)
With his distinct approach to bold storytelling and psychological tension, writer and director JT Mollner is quickly making a name for himself as one of the most sought-after filmmakers in the industry. Most recently, Mollner wrote and directed the critically acclaimed film, Strange Darling, starring Willa Fitzgerald and Kyle Gallner. Released theatrically in August 2024, Strange Darling debuted to rave reviews from audiences and critics alike, with Indiewire pronouncing that it “is not only the best American film so far this year, it’s one of the best horror movies of all time.” The film received the Academy of Science Fiction, Fantasy and Horror Films Best Thriller award in 2025 as well as the STIGES Film Festival Grand People’s Choice Award, and Mollner received the Bucheon International Fantastic Film Festival Best Director award.
Mollner first garnered industry attention with his debut feature, Outlaws and Angels, a revisionist Western that premiered at the Sundance Film Festival in 2016. The film, notable for being shot on 35mm despite its ultra-low budget, established him as a unique voice in indie cinema.
In addition to his feature work, Mollner has directed multiple award-winning short films, music videos, and commercials, including spots for Monster Energy Drink and Lincoln.
Mollner is also set to direct Academy Award winner Brie Larson in the creature feature adaptation of Philip Fracassi’s Fail-Safe, written by Brian Dufffield (No One Will Save You), and produced by JJ Abrams.
STEPHEN KING (NOVELIST, EXECUTIVE PRODUCER)
Stephen King was born in Portland, Maine, in 1947, the second son of Donald and Nellie Ruth Pillsbury King. He made his first professional short story sale in 1967 to Startling Mystery Stories. In the fall of 1971, he began teaching high school English classes at Hampden Academy, the public high school in Hampden, Maine. Writing in the evenings and on the weekends, he continued to produce short stories and to work on novels. In the spring of 1973, Doubleday & Co. accepted the novel Carrie for publication, providing him the means to leave teaching and write full-time. He has since published over 50 books and has become one of the world’s most successful writers. King is the recipient of the 2003 National Book Foundation Medal for Distinguished Contribution to the American Letters and the 2014 National Medal of Arts.
Stephen lives in Maine and Florida with his wife, novelist Tabitha King. They are regular contributors to a number of charities including many libraries and have been honored locally for their philanthropic activities.
Code 3 (2025) is a high-energy action comedy directed by Christopher Leone.
The film follows Randy (Rainn Wilson), a burnt-out paramedic on the verge of quitting, who must endure one final 24-hour shift to train his replacement, Jessica (Lil Rel Howery). What begins as a routine day spirals into a chaotic, emotionally charged ride through the extremes of emergency response—complete with absurd calls, unexpected heroics, and moments of raw humanity.
Code 3 was inspired by the lived experiences of Patrick Pianezza, a former paramedic who co-wrote the script with director Christopher Leone.
“I’ve known Cris for about 15 years. Even in early drafts, he could pinpoint a problem and break it down so I could improve it. Part of that was helping me grow as a writer, and part was his outsider perspective — he’d never been in an ambulance. Everything we wrote was filtered through: Does this move the story forward? Does it make sense for the characters? On set, our collaboration was friendly and collegial. Anything artistic was Chris’s domain, anything medical was mine,” says Pianezza.
Pianezza’s firsthand knowledge of the chaos, camaraderie, and emotional toll of emergency medical work shaped the film’s tone and authenticity.
Patrick Pianezza’s years as a paramedic serve as the emotional and narrative engine of Code 3.
His shift stories, chaotic, humorous, and sometimes soul-wrenching, were the film’s first sparks, written down initially as a short story in college.
The central conceit of a burnt-out medic training his replacement during one final 24-hour shift emerged from witnessing the cycles of burnout and renewal within emergency medical services, where mentorship often happens in the trenches.
Pianezza infused the screenplay with nuanced emotional truths: the gallows humour, the adrenaline fatigue, the brief and tender connections with strangers on the worst day of their lives. He remained involved throughout filming, guiding the crew and cast to ensure the pulse of real EMS work—its language, its rhythm, its weight—beat beneath every scene.
What results is a comedy steeped not just in laughs, but in lived grit, honouring those who show up again and again when the sirens call.
Rather than glamorising heroics, the story leans into the burnout, absurdity, and quiet dignity of paramedics on the edge.
It’s a buddy comedy, yes—but one that pulses with real-world grit. The filmmakers collaborated closely with EMS professionals to ensure the dialogue, scenarios, and emotional beats felt true to life.
Advice for screenwriters just starting out
“I’d say: just keep writing. Be determined, but also understand that luck plays a huge role in this business. Talent gets you in the door, but luck often decides what happens next. In my case, the ‘luck’ was having my brother. There is no world where this film exists without him. He was the one who pushed me to write the first draft, brought Chris into the project, and worked relentlessly to see it cross the finish line.
The only way to get good is to practice. Even though I hadn’t done much screenwriting, I’d written for multiple publications — writing in general keeps the craft alive. You can’t just sit down one day and suddenly write Ben-Hur. It’s iterative: you get better, you learn to recognize what isn’t working, and you develop the discipline to “murder your darlings.”
Most importantly: don’t give up. There are amazing writers out there who never got their break. I don’t claim to be Mario Puzo or Francis Ford Coppola — I got lucky. But once you get your shot, dogged determination and giving your best are everything.”
Patrick Pianezza is a writer, actor, and former paramedic whose storytelling roots trace back to central Illinois, where he was raised by immigrant parents who surrounded him with tales that sparked a vivid imagination. After earning an associate degree in Biology and completing his paramedic certification, he served as a volunteer fireman and EMT before advancing to a B.A. in Public Relations and a Master’s in Healthcare Administration. His career in emergency medical services included time as a Paramedic Crew Chief and work with Johns Hopkins Hospital’s Lifeline transport team. Since 2010, he’s held leadership roles in hospital operations and patient experience across major healthcare systems. Pianezza’s creative pivot came with Code 3, a screenplay born from his own shift stories, co-written with his mentor Christopher Leone. Fluent in Italian and humorously self-aware about his Spanish and French, he now lives in Long Beach, California, where he continues to write, podcast, and celebrate family.
Christopher Leone, is a Los Angeles–based filmmaker with a background in visual effects and CG animation. His career spans directing, writing, and producing across film, television, and digital platforms. Leone co-created and co-executive produced The Lost Room, a Syfy mini-series that earned a Writers Guild Award nomination, and directed the sci-fi feature Parallels for Fox Digital Studio. His short film K-7 screened at over 60 festivals and won multiple awards, showcasing his knack for genre storytelling with emotional depth. Leone has also directed digital series like Suit Up and Wolfpack of Reseda, and co-authored the comic We Kill Monsters. With Code 3, he brings his genre-savvy lens to a grounded buddy comedy, shaped by Pianezza’s lived EMS experience. Leone is married to Pamela Wimberly and continues to direct commercials and develop projects that blend heart, humour, and high concept.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Demon Slayer: Infinity Castle
Demon Slayer: Infinity Castle is the first film in a climactic trilogy that adapts the final arc of Kimetsu no Yaiba. It plunges the Demon Slayer Corps into Muzan Kibutsuji’s dimensional fortress for an all-out war.
Demon Slayer: Infinity Castle marks the penultimate arc of the acclaimed anime and manga series Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba, firmly rooted in the shōnen genre—a blend of action, emotion, and coming-of-age intensity. Set within Muzan Kibutsuji’s surreal, dimension-warping fortress, the arc plunges the Demon Slayer Corps into a labyrinth of shifting rooms and gravity-defying battles. Its significance lies in its emotional crescendo: long-awaited showdowns, personal vengeance, and the unraveling of legacy threads converge in a space that feels both mythic and claustrophobic. As the stage for the series’ final reckoning, Infinity Castle transforms from mere setting into a crucible of fate.
Demon Slayer: Infinity Castle plunges the Demon Slayer Corps into Muzan Kibutsuji’s extradimensional fortress—a labyrinth of shifting rooms and perilous duels. After the death of their leader, Kagaya Ubuyashiki, Muzan traps the Corps inside the Infinity Castle, scattering them across its warped architecture. Each warrior faces a personal reckoning: Zenitsu confronts Kaigaku, his fallen former peer, unleashing a self-forged seventh form of Thunder Breathing; Shinobu sacrifices herself in a poisoned battle against Doma, the demon who killed her sister; and Tanjiro, alongside Giyu, battles Akaza, ultimately awakening the Transparent World and Selfless State to defeat him. Akaza, haunted by memories of his human life, chooses self-destruction in a moment of grace. As the castle pulses with grief and resolve, Kanao steps into Shinobu’s place, Kokushibo looms, and Muzan prepares his final assault. The film ends not with closure, but with the promise of deeper battles to come—a mythic descent into memory, vengeance, and the fading light of humanity.
Demon Slayer: Infinity Castle was inspired by a convergence of artistic reverence, narrative necessity, and fan devotion
At its core, the film adapts the climactic Infinity Castle Arc from Koyoharu Gotouge’s manga—a sprawling, emotionally charged sequence that demanded cinematic scale. Director Haruo Sotozaki and the team at Ufotable approached the project with almost ritualistic care, drawing visual inspiration from ancient Japanese ukiyo-e woodblock prints to preserve the manga’s linework and elemental techniques. Sotozaki even experimented with the thickness of animated lines to echo the original art’s emotional weight.
The castle itself—an ever-shifting, gravity-defying fortress—was reportedly inspired by the tiered architecture of Ookawaso Ryokan in Fukushima, a real-world inn whose eerie elegance mirrors Muzan’s lair. This architectural muse helped ground the surreal in something tactile, enhancing the film’s mythic atmosphere.
Emotionally, the film was driven by the need to honor character arcs and deepen the stakes. Voice actors and crew spoke at Comic-Con 2025 about the emotional evolution of characters like Zenitsu and Tanjiro, hinting that this installment would reveal sides of them “nobody’s prepared for”. The trilogy format itself reflects the creators’ desire to give each battle and farewell its due weight—transforming the final arc into a cinematic ritual of reckoning.
Directed by Haruo Sotozaki and produced by Ufotable, the film runs 155 minutes and features music by Yuki Kajiura and Go Shiina. It broke multiple box office records in Japan, surpassing even Mugen Train in opening day earnings.
This is just Part 1: Akaza Returns—the beginning of the end. Parts 2 and 3 are expected in 2027 and 2029, giving the studio time to craft each chapter with care.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Downton Abbey: The Grand Finale
Downton Abbey: The Grand Finale, the cinematic return of the global phenomenon, follows the Crawley family and their staff as they enter the 1930s. When Mary finds herself at the center of a public scandal and the family faces financial trouble, the entire household grapples with the threat of social disgrace. The Crawleys must embrace change as the staff prepares for a new chapter with the next generation leading Downton Abbey into the future.
“This film is a loving portrait of the characters as they enter the 1930s, and we really dig into the characters’ emotions at the end of the story we’re telling,” says director Simon Curtis. “The central storyline is that Lady Mary is getting divorced, which is a massive issue in 1930, especially for a family of this social standing. The family and Mary are dealing with the aftermath of the news of her divorce going public in addition to the family’s ongoing financial worries and the realisation for Robert that maybe the time has come for him to hand the reins of Downton over to his daughter. I think Mary is a very impressive businesswoman and is more than ready to take it on.”
“There was something satisfying about making a third film; a trilogy to complete it all. We knew the audience wanted another film because they told us, but our challenge was to make it without the beloved Violet, played so beautifully by the late Maggie Smith. However, we do love a challenge and felt there were lots of story arcs left open so it felt right to round those out. Maggie was irreplaceable and the film will be dedicated to her memory,” says Producer Liz Trubridge.
“It’s been the most extraordinary journey. I had no idea when I first pitched this idea in 2008, that 15 years later we would still be involved in producing not only six seasons and five Christmas specials of the TV show, but a fantastically successful transfer from the small screen to the big screen, and now the third of the feature films. It really has been a remarkable journey,” says Producer Gareth Neame.
“The core creative team has been myself, Liz and Julian Fellowes from beginning to end. It’s also the most important project any of us have worked on and the biggest success for all of us. Liz is a very hard worker; she’s unflappable and incredibly loyal to Carnival as a production house. When Julian and I started working together nothing existed at that point. By the time Liz came on board we had a few scripts, but we hadn’t begun any of the casting. Over these many years we’ve been through every twist and turn of the story, and every life change that’s happened to the cast and crew along the way. We’ve been great collaborators and have gone on to make other shows together.”
Though the second Downton Abbey film, Downton Abbey: A New Era, largely provided a fun romp through the early 20th-century movie business – except for Violet’s death, of course – The Grand Finale will instead supply a bittersweet, heartwarming, lovely ending, and that’s all we can truly ask for.
Downton Abbey: The Grand Finale was born from a deep desire to bring emotional closure to one of television’s most cherished families
After years of storytelling—across six seasons and two films—creator Julian Fellowes felt the arc of the Crawleys had reached its natural end.
The death of the Dowager Countess in the previous film left a poignant gap, making space for themes of generational transition, grief, and quiet resilience to take center stage. With Lady Mary embroiled in scandal and Lord Grantham stepping back, the estate stands at a threshold between tradition and change. Cast members, too, expressed a visceral connection to the project—Joanne Froggatt described sobbing after seeing the final cut, not from performance but from the sheer weight of the goodbye. Fan devotion played a crucial role, as the franchise’s continued popularity begged for one last, resonant chapter. This film is less a finale than a ritual of parting—an elegy to legacy, loss, and the slow, noble passage of time.
Across six seasons, Downton Abbey charts the sweeping transformation of an aristocratic estate and the lives entwined within it—from the sinking of the Titanic in 1912 to the eve of 1926.
The series begins with the Crawley family grappling with the loss of their heir and the arrival of Matthew, a middle-class lawyer thrust into nobility. As war breaks out, Downton becomes a convalescent home, reshaping roles and relationships both upstairs and down. Lady Mary and Matthew’s romance anchors the early seasons, while Lady Edith’s journey from overlooked sister to independent editor unfolds slowly and poignantly. Tragedy strikes with Sybil’s death and later Matthew’s, leaving emotional and structural voids. The downstairs staff navigate love, scandal, and shifting social tides—Anna and Bates endure wrongful imprisonment, while Thomas Barrow wrestles with identity and isolation. As the estate faces financial strain and modernity encroaches, Lady Mary steps into leadership, Tom Branson finds purpose beyond grief, and Violet, the indomitable Dowager Countess, delivers wisdom and wit until the end. The final season offers resolution: marriages, reconciliations, and new beginnings, as the Crawleys and their staff embrace change while honouring tradition.
The first Downton Abbey film (2019) picks up in 1927, two years after the series finale, as the Crawley family prepares for a royal visit from King George V and Queen Mary. The estate buzzes with excitement and tension as the royal entourage arrives, bringing both pomp and disruption. Lady Mary steps into a leadership role, Carson returns from retirement, and an attempted assassination plot adds unexpected drama. Meanwhile, romantic sparks fly between Tom Branson and Lucy Smith, and Violet Crawley confronts old family wounds with Maud Bagshaw, revealing a hidden heir. The film celebrates loyalty, legacy, and the enduring grace of Downton’s staff and family.
The sequel, Downton Abbey: A New Era (2022), shifts to 1928 and splits the narrative between two locations. While half the family travels to the French Riviera to uncover the mystery behind Violet’s unexpected inheritance of a villa, the other half remains at Downton, hosting a film crew shooting a silent movie. The clash between tradition and modernity deepens as Lady Mary navigates the chaos of filmmaking, and Thomas Barrow finds unexpected love and opportunity in Hollywood. Violet’s health declines, and her death casts a long shadow, but her final gift—a villa for Sybbie Branson—symbolises hope and continuity. The film is a meditation on change, legacy, and the quiet courage of moving forward.
Julian Alexander Kitchener-Fellowes, Baron Fellowes of West Stafford, is a British writer, actor, director, and peer whose career spans literature, film, television, and theatre. Born on August 17, 1949, in Cairo, Egypt, where his father served as a diplomat, Fellowes was educated at Ampleforth College and Magdalene College, Cambridge, before training at the Webber Douglas Academy of Dramatic Art. He began his career as a character actor, appearing in numerous British television series and films throughout the 1970s and 1980s, but it was his pivot to screenwriting that brought him international acclaim. His breakthrough came with Gosford Park (2001), for which he won the Academy Award for Best Original Screenplay. Fellowes is best known as the creator and writer of Downton Abbey (2010–2015), the globally celebrated period drama that earned him multiple Emmy Awards and cemented his reputation as a master of class-conscious storytelling. He has also written and directed films such as Separate Lies (2005) and penned screenplays for The Young Victoria (2009) and The Chaperone (2018). In addition to his screen work, Fellowes has authored novels including Snobs and Past Imperfect, and contributed to stage musicals like Mary Poppins and School of Rock. Elevated to the House of Lords in 2011, he continues to blend aristocratic insight with dramatic flair, crafting narratives that explore the tensions between tradition and transformation.
Simon Curtis is a British film director and producer known for his elegant, emotionally resonant storytelling and his deep engagement with historical and literary subjects. Born in London in March 1960, Curtis began his career in the theatre, working as an assistant director at the Royal Court Theatre before transitioning into television and film. He gained early recognition for directing acclaimed BBC dramas such as David Copperfield (1999) and Cranford (2007), showcasing his talent for period detail and character-driven narratives. His feature film debut came with My Week with Marilyn (2011), a biographical drama starring Michelle Williams and Kenneth Branagh, which earned multiple Academy Award nominations and established Curtis as a director with a refined touch and a gift for intimate storytelling. He continued this trajectory with films like Woman in Gold (2015), which explored art restitution and Holocaust memory, and Goodbye Christopher Robin (2017), a poignant look at the origins of Winnie-the-Pooh. In 2022, Curtis directed Downton Abbey: A New Era, further cementing his connection to British heritage cinema. Married to actress Elizabeth McGovern, Curtis often collaborates with actors and writers who share his passion for nuanced, emotionally layered narratives. His work is marked by its sensitivity, historical awareness, and a quiet reverence for the complexities of human relationships.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on The Conjuring: Last Rites delivers another thrilling chapter of the iconic Conjuring cinematic Universe
The question was, “How can we land this with as much emotional impact as possible, while delivering all the scares you’ve come to expect?” We wanted something that had gravitas, more emotional weight, that would serve as a fitting conclusion for these characters. We knew we wanted to go for something… bigger,” says director Michael Chaves of The Conjuring: Last Rites, the ninth entry in the more than $2 billion theatrical Conjuring Universe.
In The Conjuring: Last Rites, the veil between sanctity and terror grows thin. Set against the unravelling quiet of 1980s Pennsylvania and the cloistered echoes of a Vatican vault, the film marks a chilling culmination of the Warrens’ legacy.
Drawing from the real-life Smurl haunting and whispers of a suppressed relic scandal, director Michael Chaves crafts a final chapter pulsing with theological dread, familial fracture, and the price of bearing witness to evil. It’s less an exorcism than an elegy—a requiem for belief in the face of possession, memory, and the haunting persistence of secrecy.
In its ninth and final instalment, The Conjuring: Last Rites functions as both a spiritual reckoning and a narrative crescendo, weaving threads from across the franchise into a tapestry of legacy, loss, and faith.
Rather than relying solely on familiar spectacle, the film favors emotional weight and thematic resonance, drawing deeply from past cases: Annabelle’s cursed innocence, The Nun’s ecclesiastical dread, and The Devil Made Me Do It’s courtroom possession.
Directed by Michael Chaves and produced by James Wan and Peter Safran, the film reunites Vera Farmiga and Patrick Wilson as the famed paranormal investigators, alongside Mia Tomlinson and Ben Hardy as their daughter Judy and her boyfriend Tony Spera.
“I feel very blessed and very honoured that the Conjuring has caught on and been as big as it has been,” says Producer James Wan. “It’s such a large part of so many people’s lives. I have fans that will chat to me all the time, telling me how much these films mean to them and how much they want them to continue. That just tells me that I must have done something right, especially with the first movie and the subsequent films that we made after that. People want to keep coming back to visit these characters and be in this world. As any filmmaker might tell you, we’re on this planet for a short amount of time and the legacy you’ll get to leave behind is your films—your art, so to speak. It’s very gratifying for me to know that when I’m eventually gone, these films will live on for as long as there are films.”
Set in the late 1980s, the Warrens investigate the infamous Smurl haunting in Pennsylvania—a case involving demonic infestation, spectral violence, and a family on the brink. As the Warrens confront malevolent forces that blur the line between possession and psychological torment, the film explores themes of faith, legacy, and the cost of bearing witness to evil.
Judy Warren’s emergence as a psychic heir connects generations of spiritual trauma, while Ed and Lorraine’s final investigation tests not only their resolve but their belief system itself. The climax doesn’t offer clean triumph; it offers endurance, with love flickering against the backdrop of evil. Their haunted artifacts become not trophies of terror, but monuments to memory—each whispering the cost of bearing witness. In this way, Last Rites isn’t just an ending—it’s an echo chamber where faith, fear, and history collide.
The Conjuring: Last Rites delivers another thrilling chapter of the iconic Conjuring cinematic Universe, based on real events. Directed by franchise veteran Michael Chaves from a screenplay by Ian Goldberg & Richard Naing and David Leslie Johnson-McGoldrick, story by David Leslie Johnson-McGoldrick & James Wan, based on characters created by Chad Hayes & Carey W. Hayes, and produced by franchise architects James Wan and Peter Safran.
Director Michael Chaves is an American filmmaker known for his atmospheric contributions to modern horror, particularly within The Conjuring Universe. Chaves began his career directing short films like The Maiden, which won Best Super Short Horror Film at Shriekfest 2016. He later created the Nickelodeon web series Chase Champion, showcasing his early flair for genre storytelling. His breakout into feature films came with The Curse of La Llorona (2019), followed by The Conjuring: The Devil Made Me Do It (2021) and The Nun II (2023), all produced by James Wan. Chaves is celebrated for his ability to blend visual tension with emotional depth, often exploring themes of faith, trauma, and the supernatural. His direction of The Conjuring: Last Rites (2025) marks the franchise’s spiritual finale, cementing his role as a key architect of its cinematic legacy.
Ian Goldberg is an American screenwriter and producer best known for his work in genre television and horror cinema. He rose to prominence as a showrunner and writer for Fear the Walking Dead, where his storytelling often explored moral ambiguity and post-apocalyptic psychology. Goldberg has also contributed to series like Dead of Summer and Once Upon a Time, showcasing his range across fantasy and thriller formats. In film, he co-wrote The Autopsy of Jane Doe (2016), a critically acclaimed horror piece noted for its claustrophobic dread and narrative precision. His collaboration with Richard Naing has become a hallmark of modern horror writing, culminating in their work on The Nun II and The Conjuring: Last Rites (2025), where theological unease meets domestic terror.
Richard Naing is an American screenwriter and producer who has carved a distinct niche in the horror genre through his ability to craft suspenseful, emotionally charged narratives. He co-wrote The Autopsy of Jane Doe, a breakout film praised for its atmospheric tension and minimalist horror. Naing continued to explore themes of isolation and hidden truths in Eli (2019), and later expanded The Conjuring Universe with The Nun II and Last Rites. His television credits include Dead of Summer and Fear the Walking Dead, where he demonstrated a knack for serialized dread and character-driven storytelling. Naing’s work often blends psychological unease with supernatural elements, creating horror that lingers beyond the screen.
David Leslie Johnson-McGoldrick is an American screenwriter and producer whose career spans horror, fantasy, and blockbuster cinema. He began as a production assistant on The Shawshank Redemption, filmed in his hometown of Mansfield, Ohio, and later became a longtime collaborator of Frank Darabont. Johnson-McGoldrick wrote Orphan (2009), Wrath of the Titans (2012), and several entries in The Conjuring Universe, including The Conjuring 2, The Devil Made Me Do It, and Last Rites. He also penned Aquaman and its sequel Aquaman and the Lost Kingdom, blending mythic spectacle with emotional stakes. His writing often explores the intersection of belief, trauma, and myth, making him a versatile voice in both horror and fantasy storytelling.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Stolen Girl is a visceral, redemptive story about the lengths a mother will go to rescue her child
“Stolen Girl is a riveting true-life thriller that exposes the heartbreak and determination of a single mother as she fights to recover just one of the 1100 children abducted from America every year,” says director James Kent. “It is full of the most profound and universal emotions: fear, vulnerability, determination, betrayal and astonishing courage.”
In Stolen Girl, director James Kent and screenwriters Rebecca Pollock and Kas Graham retrace a mother’s long search for her stolen daughter, not as a procedural, but as a meditation on maternal silence, fractured systems, and the contours of hope stretched thin.
Inspired by the harrowing true story of Maureen Dabbagh, an American mother whose daughter was abducted by her ex-husband in 1993 and taken to the Middle East, the film transcends thriller tropes, offering a portrait of grief that drifts between continents and courtrooms, between the moment of loss and the ache of memory. Every frame pulses with absence, every scene asks what identity remains when the bond of motherhood is ripped and stitched across borders.
Maureen’s daughter, Nadia, was taken overseas during a court-approved visitation. With no extradition treaty between Syria and the U.S., Maureen faced a legal dead end. Her journey spanned 17 years, involving private investigators, media outreach, and eventually training as a child recovery agent herself.
The film doesn’t just chronicle the search—it explores the psychological toll, the moral ambiguity of rescue missions, and the resilience required to navigate international systems.
The screenplay, written by Rebecca Pollock and Kas Graham, channels this real-life ordeal into a suspenseful yet emotionally grounded narrative.
Rebecca Pollock and Kas Graham approached the screenplay for Stolen Girl with a blend of emotional fidelity and thriller pacing, drawing directly from the true story of Maureen Dabbagh’s 17-year search for her abducted daughter. Their writing process was shaped by several key choices:
Dual Perspective: By introducing Robeson, a former Marine and child recovery agent, they created a moral counterpoint to Maureen. His tactical pragmatism contrasts with her emotional drive, allowing the script to explore ethical ambiguity.
Global Scope, Intimate Stakes: The screenplay moves across continents—Ohio, Beirut, Italy—but always returns to Maureen’s internal landscape. The tension is both geopolitical and deeply personal.
Realism with Compression: While inspired by real events, they compressed timelines and dramatized certain elements to maintain cinematic momentum. The result is a story that feels authentic without being documentary-like.
Collaborative Refinement: Pollock and Graham are long-time writing partners, known for their ability to balance character depth with genre structure. Their previous work (Last Passenger, Expecting Love) shows a similar blend of emotional stakes and narrative propulsion.
Rebecca Pollock and Kas Graham’s collaboration with director James Kent on Stolen Girl was built on a shared commitment to emotional authenticity and narrative precision. While direct quotes from the trio haven’t surfaced yet, their creative partnership has been well-documented across multiple projects:
For Stolen Girl, Kent directed from their screenplay, which dramatises Maureen Dabbagh’s real-life search for her abducted daughter. The film’s tone, equal parts thriller and emotional odyssey, reflects Kent’s sensitivity to psychological nuance and Pollock & Graham’s layered writing.
All three are known for balancing genre with emotional depth: Kent’s work on Testament of Youth and The Aftermath shows his affinity for trauma and resilience, while Pollock & Graham’s scripts often explore moral ambiguity and maternal strength.
Their collaboration seems to hinge on a mutual respect for emotional truth over spectacle, crafting stories that resonate beyond plot mechanics
James Kent is a British director known for his emotionally resonant storytelling and elegant visual style. Originally a documentary filmmaker, Kent transitioned into drama with a keen sensitivity to character and historical nuance. His breakout feature, Testament of Youth (2014), adapted from Vera Brittain’s memoir, showcased his ability to blend intimate emotion with sweeping period detail. He followed this with The Aftermath (2019), a postwar drama starring Keira Knightley, which further cemented his reputation for crafting layered, atmospheric narratives. In 2025, Kent directed Stolen Girl, a thriller inspired by the true story of Maureen Dabbagh’s search for her abducted daughter. Collaborating with screenwriters Rebecca Pollock and Kas Graham, Kent brought a restrained intensity to the film, focusing on maternal silence, moral ambiguity, and the emotional toll of international justice. His work often explores trauma, resilience, and the quiet spaces between dialogue—where meaning lingers. Kent’s background in both documentary and drama allows him to navigate fact and feeling with equal precision, making him one of the UK’s most quietly compelling directors.
Rebecca Pollock is a British screenwriter and theatre artist whose work spans emotionally charged dramas, biopics, and genre thrillers. A founding member of the Shady Dolls Theatre Company, Pollock has written and directed plays performed across the UK and Europe, including the sci-fi piece 252AM (After Man), which premiered at VAULT Festival with support from Arts Council England. Her screenwriting career includes projects for Netflix, NBCUniversal, and EOne, with her feature Stolen Girl (2025)—co-written with longtime collaborator Kas Graham—drawing acclaim for its blend of suspense and emotional depth. Pollock’s screenplay for Betty Ford was featured on the Black List, with Ryan Murphy and Sarah Paulson attached, while Book of Ruth and May Savidge continue her exploration of complex female protagonists. Known for her poetic sensibility and narrative precision, Pollock crafts stories that pulse with psychological truth and social resonance, often navigating themes of identity, resilience, and systemic failure.
Kas Graham is a UK-based screenwriter, editor, and visual storyteller whose work often explores emotional complexity through genre frameworks. Born in Norfolk, Graham studied at Chelsea College of Art and Design in London, where his early interest in visual composition evolved into a multidisciplinary career. He began in development at New Line under Illeen Maisel and was later mentored by South African screenwriter Shawn Slovo through the Guiding Lights scheme. Graham has written screenplays for Oscar-nominated Polish director Łukasz Karwowski and frequently collaborates with Rebecca Pollock, with whom he co-wrote Stolen Girl (2025). His writing blends psychological depth with narrative propulsion, often focusing on maternal resilience, moral ambiguity, and systemic failure. Beyond screenwriting, Graham is an award-winning video director and photographer, and he teaches film editing at Central Film School London. His projects span biopics (Betty Ford), historical dramas (The Book of Ruth), and emotionally charged thrillers, reflecting a commitment to stories that pulse with truth beneath the surface.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Neo-Noir, Narcissism, and the Black Body: Inside Elijah Bynum’s Magazine Dreams
“I wanted to paint a portrait of a life, specifically, a Black life that’s not often depicted on-screen,” said Elijah Bynum, writer and director of Magazine Dreams, a haunting psychological drama that follows a socially isolated amateur bodybuilder whose obsessive pursuit of greatness spirals into emotional and physical collapse.
Elijah Bynum was inspired to write Magazine Dreams after observing a man at his gym whose presence lingered with him long after their brief encounters. “He seemed to be in quite a bit of pain—physical, spiritual, emotional—but something kept him coming back every day,” Bynum shared in an interview. This man, intensely devoted to his workouts, struck Bynum as both intimidating and invisible—someone others avoided eye contact with, yet couldn’t ignore.
That paradox became the emotional seed for Killian Maddox: a character both feared and forgotten, armored in muscle but fragile at the core. Bynum was fascinated by the idea of a person who builds their body as a shield against the world, yet remains deeply vulnerable inside. “I thought there was something very interesting about a human who moves through the world that’s both feared and ignored at the same time,” he said.
The film isn’t based on a true story, but it’s rooted in this real-life observation—an emotional truth that Bynum sculpted into a haunting narrative about ambition, isolation, and the violence of being unseen.
Set in the gritty urban landscape of Los Angeles. The story centres on Killian Maddox, a troubled Black bodybuilder, and explores themes of ambition, isolation, and mental health. Jonathan Majors delivers a raw, physically intense portrayal of Killian, earning praise for embodying both vulnerability and volatility. His transformation involved eating 6,100 calories a day and training six hours daily to achieve the role’s extreme physique.
Mental Health & Masculinity
Killian’s dream of becoming a Mr. Olympia champion consumes him, pushing him into steroid abuse, violent outbursts, and emotional breakdowns. The film explores toxic ambition, suppressed trauma, and the fragile line between aspiration and destruction. As a Black man navigating systemic neglect and personal grief, Killian’s story echoes the alienated antiheroes of Taxi Driver and The Wrestler, but with a distinct racial and emotional lens.
Killian Maddox is not just a bodybuilder chasing fame; he’s a figure carved by grief, racial trauma, and the aching need to be remembered.
Bynum’s screenplay doesn’t offer easy answers—it invites us into the fractured psyche of a man whose pursuit of greatness is both mythic and tragic. In this opening, the film sets its tone: raw, intimate, and unflinching in its portrayal of a life shaped by longing and isolation.
His dual role as writer-director gives the story its tightly wound emotional core and haunting visual rhythm.
Magazine Dreams is a piercing cinematic portrait of a man consumed by the desire to be seen, sculpted both physically and emotionally by the forces around him. The film’s power lies in its intimacy and fury, echoing the haunted isolation of Taxi Driver while offering a distinctly Black lens through which ambition becomes a site of both resilience and decay. Killian’s world is framed by food deserts, economic hardship, and systemic erasure, rendering his unravelling as a consequence of society’s neglect rather than a mere character flaw. Jonathan Majors’ astonishing performance blurs the line between myth and man, channelling both brute strength and aching vulnerability. The film’s expressionist visuals and internal rhythm conjure a fractured dreamscape where reality bends to emotional truth.
And yet, beyond the craft and controversy, Magazine Dreams asks a harrowing question: what becomes of a man when the world refuses to love him, yet fears what he’s become?
Elijah Bynum is an American filmmaker and screenwriter known for crafting emotionally intense, character-driven stories that explore identity, obsession, and the ache of invisibility. Born in Northampton, Massachusetts, and raised in nearby Pelham and Amherst, Bynum graduated from the University of Massachusetts Amherst in 2009 with a degree in marketing and economics—while also playing on the university’s football team. His breakout came with Hot Summer Nights (2017), a stylized coming-of-age crime drama starring Timothée Chalamet, which premiered at South by Southwest and marked his directorial debut. Bynum’s follow-up, Magazine Dreams (2023), cemented his reputation for psychological depth and social critique, earning acclaim at Sundance for its raw portrayal of a troubled bodybuilder. Beyond directing, he’s contributed as a screenwriter to projects like The Deliverance (2024) and the sci-fi drama Capsule. Bynum’s work often blurs the line between myth and realism, inviting audiences into fractured psyches and emotionally charged landscapes.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Crafting Fear: The Art and Anatomy of Horror Filmmaking
Horror stories are not written, they’re unearthed. Beneath the cinematic scream and scripted dread lies something quieter, older: a ritual of revelation, a reckoning dressed in shadow. In crafting horror, the writer becomes an archaeologist of silence, pulling memory, trauma, and cultural fracture into distorted light. This is not a genre of cheap tricks—it is a language of atmosphere, metaphor, and rupture.
Whether through blood-soaked imagery or the slow decay of the familiar, horror exposes what polite narratives hide: the ache that does not speak, the fear that forms a second skin. To write and create horror is to step into that ache and shape it into a story, a mirror of what we most resist, and perhaps, what we most need to confront.
The origins of horror films date back to the late 19th century, when cinema was still in its infancy. French filmmaker Georges Méliès is often credited with creating the first horror film, Le Manoir du Diable (1896), a short silent film filled with supernatural imagery, including skeletons, ghosts, and the Devil himself. Though intended more as spectacle than fright, it laid the groundwork for horror’s visual language.
As the medium evolved, early filmmakers drew heavily from Gothic literature—works like Frankenstein, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, and Dracula—adapting their themes of monstrosity, duality, and the uncanny into silent films and later, talkies.
German Expressionism in the 1920s, with titles like Nosferatu and The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, introduced distorted visuals and psychological unease, shaping horror’s aesthetic and emotional tone. By the 1930s, Hollywood embraced the genre with Universal’s monster movies, solidifying horror as a cinematic tradition. From folklore and religious dread to psychological rupture and societal fear, horror films have always mirrored the anxieties of their time—making the genre not just a source of fright, but a reflection of cultural and emotional truth.
Horror films have undergone a striking evolution by 2025, transforming from simple fright machines into emotionally layered, socially reflective, and technologically daring works of art. What began with Gothic shadows and silent screams has now become a genre that mirrors our deepest anxieties—personal, political, and existential.
In recent years, horror has embraced hybrid storytelling, blending with genres like sci-fi, romance, and satire. Films like Bring Her Back and Sinnersexplore grief, racial trauma, and cultural memory through supernatural lenses.
Technological horror surged in response to AI, surveillance, and digital identity fears. Titles like Skillhouseweaponize social media fame, turning likes and shares into deadly currency.
The genre also saw a resurgence of folk and cosmic horror, with filmmakers drawing on myth, ritual, and environmental collapse to explore humanity’s insignificance and guilt. Climate change, misinformation, and social division became thematic fuel, pushing horror into new philosophical terrain.
Stylistically, 2025 horror films lean into atmosphere and ambiguity. Jump scares gave way to slow-burn dread, immersive sound design, and emotionally resonant pacing. Streaming platforms and VR expanded how horror is consumed, while indie filmmakers used minimal budgets to maximum effect.
In short, horror in 2025 is no longer just about what scares us—it’s about what shapes us, what haunts us, and what we refuse to face. It’s a genre reborn as ritual, mirror, and reckoning.
What makes a great horror story?
A great horror story is not simply one that terrifies; it transforms.
At its core, it must tap into a primal emotion: fear as memory, shame, loss, hunger, or revelation. The horror must feel earned, rooted not in spectacle but in emotional truth. What lingers is not the monster, but what the monster mirrors.
Tone and atmosphere become vital tools: every detail must conspire to unsettle, not just through grotesque image, but through what’s withheld, what’s repeated, what’s distorted.
The characters must bleed with tension, their choices echoing deeper fractures.
Structure, too, plays its role: the slow descent, the moment of rupture, the ambiguous aftermath. But perhaps most importantly, a great horror story invites complicity. It makes the reader or viewer lean forward, despite dread, to see what cannot be unseen.
The process of writing a horror story
Writing a horror story begins not with plot, but with pulse, with a deep, unnerving question that resists easy answers.
At its core is the emotional seed: a fear you carry, a silence that haunts, a truth too jagged for daylight. From this seed grows a world slightly off-kilter, where the texture of walls, the absence of sound, and the repetition of mundane gestures begin to unravel reality.
The setting is not just a backdrop; it’s a psychic echo chamber, designed to unsettle. The protagonist must carry their own fracture—haunted not simply by what’s out there, but by what festers within. Their arc becomes a mirror to the horror, with each step drawing them closer to a reckoning they cannot articulate.
As the narrative descends, the pacing fractures—images appear out of place, sounds refuse to resolve, and the reader is held in a state of liminal dread.
The horror itself should not merely shock, but reflect a twisted embodiment of guilt, grief, shame, or cultural rupture. It must force confrontation, not just escalation. And when the final scene arrives, it must leave behind an echo, not answers, but aftermath. Horror lives in what remains: the unanswered question, the irreversible change, the feeling that something has followed you home.
This process, at its most potent, is ritualistic. You are not just telling a story. You are summoning something.
The top ten horror films ever made
William Friedkin’s The Exorcist (1973) plunged audiences into supernatural terror with visceral intensity. Possession, faith, and primal fear remain unmatched in intensity.
Ari Aster’s Hereditary (2018) revived psychological horror with grief-soaked dread. Grief as horror: emotionally devastating and viscerally terrifying.
Stanley Kubrick’s The Shining (1980) remains a masterclass in atmospheric dread, its descent into madness both operatic and intimate. Madness in isolation: Kubrick’s icy descent into psychological horror
Tobe Hooper’s The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1974) assaults the senses with brutal realism, dragging viewers into a sun-scorched nightmare. Raw, grimy terror: an unrelenting nightmare of realism and brutality
Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho (1960) rewrote the rules, splitting identity and genre with a single slash. The birth of modern horror: shock, suspense, and fractured identity.
Roman Polanski’s Rosemary’s Baby (1968) smoulders with domestic paranoia, its horror slow, intimate, and insidious. Paranoia and betrayal: Satanic horror with slow-burning dread.
In Ridley Scott’s Alien (1979), silence and shadow turned deep space into a claustrophobic tomb, where the body itself becomes a battleground. Claustrophobic sci-fi horror: where no one can hear you scream.
John Carpenter’s Halloween (1978) distils fear to its essence, presence, simplicity, and silence. The slasher blueprint: minimalism, menace, and iconic score.
Gore Verbinski’s The Ring (2002) modernises myth, stitching spectral unease into the fabric of technology. Cursed media and eerie atmosphere: East meets West in spectral terror.
Jennifer Kent’s The Babadook (2014) surfaces trauma as a monster, blending motherhood and mourning into symbolic terror. Grief as a monster: psychological horror with emotional depth.
A timeline of horror’s cinematic evolution
Horror cinema began in flickering shadow, with Georges Méliès’s Le Manoir du Diable (1896) conjuring devils and skeletons like phantoms of folklore on silent celluloid.
As the 1920s dawned, German Expressionism steeped horror in distorted architecture and psychological fracture—Nosferatu and The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari bending reality to reflect the madness beneath.
By the 1930s and ’40s, Universal’s monsters—Dracula, Frankenstein, The Mummy—emerged not just as creatures, but as cultural icons, channeling fears of science, otherness, and mortality.
The postwar era of the 1950s saw horror films mutate into allegories of atomic dread and scientific hubris. As the mushroom cloud loomed over public consciousness, cinema responded with irradiated beasts and mutated monstrosities that embodied the fear of nuclear fallout. Them! (1954) unleashed giant ants born from atomic testing in the New Mexico desert, The Beast from 20,000 Fathoms (1953) awakened a prehistoric creature from Arctic slumber with a nuclear blast. Godzilla (1954), became a towering metaphor for atomic devastation. Films like The Fly (1958) and It Came from Beneath the Sea (1955) warned of the dangers of unchecked scientific ambition, blending horror with speculative fiction. Even alien invasion narratives—Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1956), The Thing from Another World (1951)—reflected Cold War paranoia and the loss of individuality. These films didn’t just entertain; they mirrored a world grappling with invisible threats, technological anxiety, and the monstrous consequences of human curiosity.
The 1960s introduced a more cerebral dread: Hitchcock’s Psycho split identity with a scream, and Rosemary’s Baby draped paranoia in velvet.
The 1970s turned horror inward and unholy—The Exorcist, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, and Halloween made fear visceral, personal, and unrelenting.
The 1980s lit the genre in neon and gore—A Nightmare on Elm Street, The Thing, and Hellraiser blending fantasy with bodily horror and surreal spectacle.
As the 1990s arrived, horror grew self-aware—Scream cut through its own tropes, while The Blair Witch Project whispered new fears with lo-fi dread.
Post-9/11, horror darkened further—films like Saw, The Descent, and Martyrs spiraled into trauma, torture, and existential collapse.
By 2010, a new pulse emerged: elevated horror. The Babadook, Get Out, and Hereditary fused genres with grief, identity, and metaphor, redefining what horror could confront.
In 2025, the genre stands as ritual and reckoning, threading technology, myth, and personal hauntings into films like Bring Her Back, Sinners, and Nosferatu, where the camera doesn’t just watch—it remembers.
Horror has evolved from spectacle to soul, from monster to mirror, each era sharpening its blade on what we most fear, and what we most refuse to face.
If you are considering crafting a horror film, our The Write Journey course will guide you from inspiration to writing your first pages
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on Midnight Cowboy: The Broken Dreams Behind the American Myth
When Midnight Cowboy first appeared on screens in 1969, it shattered Hollywood conventions and dared audiences to confront a side of America often left in the shadows
With its haunting portrayal of two lost souls struggling to survive in the unforgiving streets of New York, the film became more than just a cinematic milestone—it became a mirror to a nation caught between hope and disillusionment. At a time when cultural upheaval and social shifts were rewriting the rules, this gritty masterpiece exposed the loneliness beneath the cowboy swagger and the tender humanity buried inside urban decay.
The screenplay for Midnight Cowboy was written by Waldo Salt, adapted from the 1965 novel by James Leo Herlihy. The film was directed by John Schlesinger, a British filmmaker known for his emotionally rich and socially conscious storytelling.
Salt’s script won the Academy Award for Best Adapted Screenplay, and Schlesinger took home Best Director—both contributing to the film’s historic win as Best Picture. Their collaboration helped shape one of the most daring and influential films of the New Hollywood era.
Midnight Cowboy follows Joe Buck (Jon Voight), a naive Texan who arrives in New York City dressed as a cowboy, hoping to make it big as a male prostitute. Instead, he’s met with harsh realities and urban indifference. Struggling to survive, he forms an unlikely bond with Ratso Rizzo (Dustin Hoffman), a sickly con man with dreams of escaping to Florida. As their friendship deepens, the film explores themes of loneliness, identity, and the collapse of the American Dream—culminating in a heartbreaking journey that redefines both men’s understanding of connection and survival.
Through its haunting depiction of post-60s urban alienation, it exposes the harsh realities that crush idealism. It carved out a bold new path for cinematic storytelling.
Selected for preservation in the National Film Registry, it stands as a turning point in New Hollywood: a movement that championed director-driven vision and experimentation.
Its avant-garde editing, dreamlike sequences, and raw performances offered a new emotional intensity in film, influencing future classics like Taxi Driver.
At its core, Midnight Cowboy remains a poignant study of identity, masculinity, and connection, culminating in one of cinema’s most unforgettable endings.
by Daniel Dercksen·Comments Off on How Internal Logic Shapes Storytelling
Creativity thrives not in chaos, but in the quiet direction of internal logic — a compass that doesn’t confine your path, but makes sure it leads somewhere. It empowers writers to craft stories that resonate, endure, and transform.
Internal logic is the silent scaffolding behind every compelling narrative that gives a story its pulse and coherence. It’s not just about making sense—it’s about making meaning.
At its core, internal logic is the consistency of cause and effect within a story’s world. It governs the cause-and-effect consistency across character behavior, worldbuilding, and narrative progression, ensuring that every plot twist, emotional shift, or magical rule feels earned rather than arbitrary.
It’s the difference between a twist that thrills and one that confuses.
Internal logic is the heartbeat beneath the prose. It’s what allows dragons to feel real, time travel to make sense, and heartbreak to echo long after the final page. Writers who master it don’t just tell stories—they build worlds readers believe in.
When writers embed repeatable internal logic—whether through emotional rhythms like tension, revelation, reflection, or structural patterns like the three-act arc—they create a narrative ecosystem that holds its shape no matter how wild or intimate the story becomes.
Characters evolve believably, worlds feel lived-in, and readers remain immersed because the story honors its own rules. This kind of logic doesn’t restrict creativity—it scaffolds it, offering boundaries within which resonance and risk can flourish. Writers who master it don’t just tell stories that make sense—they tell stories that mean something.
Why Writers Need To Master Internal Logic
Narrative coherence
Narrative coherence is the thread that binds a story’s elements into a unified, emotionally resonant whole. It refers to the logical flow and internal consistency of a narrative—how characters, events, and themes align to create a sense of progression and meaning. When coherence is strong, readers feel immersed; they trust the story’s rhythm, understand its stakes, and intuitively grasp its emotional arc.
At its core, coherence is built on three dimensions: context (clear time and place), chronology (a discernible sequence of events), and theme (a central idea that evolves and resolves). These elements work together to ensure that each part of the story contributes meaningfully to the whole. Even in non-linear or experimental narratives, coherence can be maintained through emotional logic, recurring motifs, or thematic echoes.
For writers, mastering narrative coherence means crafting stories that not only make sense but also feel inevitable in retrospect.
Character Integrity
Character integrity is the fusion of who a person is and how consistently they live by their values. In storytelling, it’s the glue that holds a character’s arc together—ensuring that their choices, flaws, and growth feel authentic and earned. A character with integrity doesn’t mean they’re perfect; it means their actions align with their internal compass, even when tested by conflict or temptation.
When writers honor character integrity, they create protagonists who evolve without betraying their essence. A coward may become brave, but only through believable steps. A morally gray figure may make noble choices, but those choices must echo something already seeded in their soul. Integrity gives readers a sense of emotional truth—it’s what makes us say, “Yes, that felt right,” even if the outcome is unexpected.
Worldbuilding Stability
Worldbuilding Stability is the backbone of immersive storytelling—it’s what makes a fictional world feel lived-in, believable, and emotionally resonant. Whether your setting spans galaxies or a single village, stability ensures that the world operates on consistent principles that readers can intuitively grasp and trust.
Worldbuilding stability refers to the internal consistency of your setting’s rules, systems, and logic. It’s not about making everything static—it’s about making everything coherent.
Political structures must behave in ways that reflect their history and culture.
Geography and climate should influence trade, travel, and conflict.
Cultural norms should evolve logically from environment, history, and belief.
Reader Trust
Reader trust is the silent contract between author and audience—the belief that the story will deliver on its emotional, thematic, and narrative promises. It’s earned not through perfection, but through consistency, clarity, and emotional honesty. When readers trust a writer, they surrender to the journey, knowing the path will be worth it—even if it’s winding.
Trust begins with the opening lines: the tone, voice, and premise signal what kind of experience lies ahead. If the story sets up humor, readers expect laughter. If it hints at heartbreak, they brace for ache. Breaking that tonal promise without intention can feel like betrayal. Likewise, characters must behave in ways that reflect their established truths. A sudden shift without emotional groundwork fractures trust.
But trust isn’t just about what’s said—it’s about what’s left unsaid. Writers who trust their readers allow space for interpretation, implication, and discovery. They resist over-explaining, letting subtext breathe. This mutual respect deepens engagement, turning passive readers into active participants.