Before I wanted to make movies, I wanted to play first base for the St. Louis Cardinals.
Then one summer a friend brought over BILL & TED’S BOGUS JOURNEY and I started looking at movies differently.
I write about people who have built their lives around something they believe is true—about themselves, their families, the people they love, or the way the world works.
Then I put them in a situation where that belief can no longer survive.
Sometimes it’s funny. Sometimes it’s devastating. Usually there’s a little of both.
I want to make the kind of movie that follows you home.
A musician returns home to bury his mother and finds that his family’s grief has a history he barely knows. His brother died in the war. The people who stayed have been living with everything that happened afterward.
THE BATTLES OF BIRDTOWN comes from the Missouri towns I grew up in and the loss of my younger brother in Iraq. It’s about coming home certain you understand what happened to your family—and having to hear the parts that don’t belong to you.
I’m developing the film to direct and looking for a producing partner to help build a practical path to financing and production.
I don’t write one genre. But the people tend to have something in common: they’ve built their lives around an explanation that stops working when it matters most.
An aspiring director will do almost anything to save his first movie. When financing hits a snag, he starts forging documents, stealing money, and betraying the people keeping his dream alive. Every attempt to fix the problem makes it worse.
A filmmaker so afraid of failure that he becomes the biggest threat to his own movie.
After his wife’s death, a grieving husband uses AI to reconstruct her. But the more convincing she becomes, the more she reveals about a marriage he never fully understood—and the more tempted he is to edit her into the woman he remembers.
What happens when loving someone and controlling the memory of them become the same thing?
When a former infantryman dies by suicide, the men who served with him reunite to settle his affairs. They’ve always said they’d die for one another. Now they discover that helping a brother stay alive is something else entirely.
Brotherhood is easy to celebrate. Harder to practice.
A door lets you bring back the dead. The price is twenty-five years of your life for every hour you get with them. A grieving repairman takes the deal—and keeps coming back.
How much of the life you still have would you spend trying to reclaim the one you’ve lost?
A depressed rideshare driver realizes that his late-night fare intends to die at the destination, and finds that helping the stranger means finally admitting his own need for help.
A contained short. One car. One night. Two people who both need the other one to stay alive.
The point is not to wait for permission forever.
Script locked / production development and planning.