Christopher Shank

Screenwriter / writer-director · Atlanta

I want to break you.

I have spent most of my adult life writing things nobody asked me to write. That sounds romantic until you do it for twenty years. Most of the time there is no applause, no check, and no reason to believe the thing will ever leave the room. You make it anyway. Then you make it better.

The movies I keep writing begin when somebody can no longer live inside the explanation they built their life around. The marriage is fine. The grief is handled. The rules are real. Tomorrow will be different. Then something happens and the lie stops holding.

Sometimes I get there with two people in a room. Sometimes I need a ghost, a war, a pit bull, an AI wife, a black hole, or a man committing felonies because admitting his movie is dead would mean admitting something worse.

I want the movie to follow you home.

Poster for THE BATTLES OF BIRDTOWN

Featured screenplay · Current priority

The Battles of Birdtown

After his mother's death, a Philadelphia musician returns to the Missouri town he escaped, where his estranged father, old friends and soldier brother's absence force him to confront how little he knows about the people he left behind.

This is the one.

Birdtown started as my MFA thesis and has spent the years since being made less convenient.

It has been through festivals, outside readers, notes I agreed with, notes I ignored, notes I fought, and notes that turned out to be right. Every serious pass has found another place where I protected a scene, simplified somebody or let Craig understand himself better than an actual person would.

I keep coming back because the movie keeps getting closer to what I meant before I knew how to write it.

If you want one script to know what I do, read this one.

  • Semifinalist — Atlanta Film Festival
  • Finalist — Richmond International Film Festival

The rest of the shelf.

Birdtown is the cleanest place to start. It is not the only place I go.

There are soldiers, ghosts, bad marriages, dead friends, a pit bull who wants no part of what people bred him for, technology that gives a grieving man exactly what he asked for, and a filmmaker who commits felonies because admitting the movie is dead would require admitting something worse.

Pick the problem that interests you.

See all the work
Poster for THE RESERVIST

THE RESERVIST

A punk Army Reservist facing deployment to Iraq turns to his active-duty younger brother, but after his brother is killed in action he considers vanishing rather than reporting—and must decide whom his refusal would leave behind.

Feature · Military family drama / war-era character drama

  • Finalist — Richmond International Film Festival
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Poster for KING OF THE DEAD

KING OF THE DEAD

A lonely repairman discovers a door that returns the dead at the cost of twenty-five years of his life per hour, then devotes decades to undoing the one loss no bargain can repair.

Feature · Southern gothic fantasy / family drama

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Poster for SOULECHO

SOULECHO

A grieving husband reconstructs his dead wife with an AI service, but when the replica reveals a marriage he never knew, he must choose between preserving a version that agrees with him and accepting the real woman he lost.

Feature · Near-future science-fiction / psychological relationship drama

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Poster for KEEP DRIVING

Making now

KEEP DRIVING

I spent enough years waiting for somebody else to decide whether I was allowed to make a movie.

This one is small enough that I can stop pretending permission is the problem.

One car. One night. Two people who need the other person to stay alive for reasons neither one wants to admit.

I intend to make it.

Script locked / production development and planning.

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Christopher Shank seated at a table beside a large window.

Selected Journal

The scripts are where I lie on purpose.

This is where I try not to.

Family. Death. Movies. Books. Religion. Politics. Work. Failure. Taste. Ambition. Getting older. Trying to become somebody I can live with.

Occasionally I get several hundred words in and discover the asshole I was arguing with was me.

Read the Journal

Recognition.

Other people have read the work.

That matters, but it is not why the work exists.

Every result below is listed at the exact level the awarding organization published. A quarterfinalist is a quarterfinalist. A finalist is a finalist. Nobody gets promoted because the better word looks nicer in a bio.

Know what to do with the work?

Represent it. Finance it. Develop it. Produce it. Publish it. Hire me to write something else.

Or tell me I got something wrong and bring evidence.

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