Interviews & Reviews

Ariel (Ari) Turobiner is an award-winning dynamic multi-hyphenate artist—an actor, filmmaker, and musician—who shapes narrative landscapes through the lens of community, telling human stories and a deep-seated love for vintage aesthetics. Grounded in a profound appreciation for artistic history, his work serves as a soulful bridge where collaborative independent spirit meets polished commercial execution.

What was your very first audition or project like? 

My first audition started as far back as elementary school, when I first started getting into acting due to having a stutter and my parents, speech therapist, and other close family. For a period of time, I did child modeling and was on the cover of a toy box! Years later, I found film auditions to be great ‘practices’ and tests to try and grow as an actor. My first real project was BTTF Project 85. I was the co-director, organizer, and one of the lead actors playing Marty McFly. Both as a filmmaker, actor, and musician. Getting able to make and be in my favorite movie was a dream come true, and acting alongside original cast members. The hardest part was that this took place during COVID, so everyone had to film scenes remotely, and organizing a large group taught me so much about leadership and its importance in film. While not done in a standard way, I learned the basics, and then some, which led me to study film properly at college, where I gained the skills I have today. 

Have you ever doubted your talent?

Answer: Yes, of course! I’m always looking for ways to grow, adapt, and learn.  I think art has a way of evolving with you as a person. To this day, I still have so much to learn and can’t wait to tell new stories, try new things, and explore a diverse range. I believe that if there is doubt of some kind, it means the reward must be greater to cause it. 

What keeps you going during difficult times in your career? 

Answer: The relentless belief in myself, my world, and others with the same belief who are there to walk and learn beside you. Knowing myself, flaws and all, allows for meaningful growth. I’m someone who always loves working and is just happy to be a part of a project. I don’t stop, and when I do, I’m thinking about how to start my next thing as best as possible. I recognize what I can and can not achieve at this moment and allow life and art to have overlap. Limitations breed creativity. That, and an insane amount of optimism! 

Is there a role or script you regret not choosing? 

 No, every project I have done and made led to where I am, and for that I’m grateful, especially in the case of Orion. The idea with Orion that pushed me to fully believe I can really do this is a lot thanks to my producer, Liam Harrington. From the moment I brought up the idea, characters, and story I wrote, he really was able to see a way to make this something special. He’s incredible and deserves so much. Orion is my dream 80s movie. What I mean by that is that I had wanted to make the movie that I myself would’ve loved to see. I grew up loving video games and have had a deep connection to the 80s for a long time. My parents are from that generation, and growing up watching 80s coming-of-age, playing retro games, and becoming more knowledgeable about the culture, aesthetic, and way of life became a safe haven for me to return to and still is. 

Lizzy is named after a person who shares the same name; we met in college. She met me when I was struggling very heavily but saw parts of myself I hadn’t seen through a time when I really needed a friend. We helped raise money for Parkinson’s on campus, and while we did have something deeper, it never fully got out of the ground. I have a soft spot for her, and she reminded me of Ellen Reed from Family Ties, one of the biggest inspirations for Lizzy. Lea and I both connected on this when we first met, and that’s when I knew this was turning into something very special. Orion is deeply layered and personal to me in a lot of ways, especially when it comes to relationships, feeling lost in your 20s, and unspoken truths; the answer is always to say how you feel. In short, I don’t regret not choosing another idea since I know I’ll continue to grow with my art and ideas; age and time will reflect that. The people are what make the experience, and Orion brought together so many amazing people. Everything I’ve worked towards felt like a culmination of growth with Orion.

What’s the most challenging scene you’ve ever worked on? 

Great question, but this is a hard one! For Orion, to me, there were two key ones, and each builds off the last. In terms of difficulty, the opening tracking shot was challenging since it was shot first and we were all getting used to each other’s workflow. Griffin Powell, my fantastic Assistant Director, and I worked on the blocking and discussed our ideas in the car, at home, and late at night after set to prepare. Blocking conversations helped immensely. Secondly, the key scene for me is the heart-to-heart between Rob and Lizzy. The entire film builds up to it, but the emotional connection and beats are all credited to Lea Denim and Jack Thomas Dickson. Phenomenal actors and great friends. I’ll always be in their corner and hope to work with both again! The three of us had a lot of fun getting to that scene throughout the process of the film in order to make that emotional build-up land. The heart-to-heart scene took inspiration from one of the most influential films for me and one of my top ten favorite movies of all time, Before Sunrise. Jack and I had connected on this, and we had a lot of fun getting into the depths of how that moment would play out. Similarly, Lea and I also had separate conversations and moments about what this is like for Lizzy: micro-expressions. I personally love it when a lot is told with looks, facial expressions, pure emotion. It really was a ton of fun throughout the whole thing. Going from a standard difficult shot due to timing to another having a scene be difficult due to everything beforehand needing to work.

 Do you prefer working with experienced artists or discovering new talent? 

 I prefer working with a mix of both. Experienced artists always have something to teach that younger artists like myself and others can learn from. That being said I view filmmaking as a team sport, and my crew knows this. Newer artists and newer voices are especially important to nourish and tell stories that capture thoughts, feelings, and ideas for all of us to grow. There’s that relatability and understanding of human depth coming from both and I believe that there is constant growth for both. Younger artists deserve to be heard and experienced artists help boost this in the right creative environment.  

How do you deal with criticism? 

 I’m always searching for feedback and criticism. I once had a film professor tell me, “The second you take yourself out of it, everything begins to flow.” I really believe he was right. Ever since I’ve heard that, it’s changed everything. You have to be able to spend the grueling hours PA’ing at the bottom to fully understand what it’s like at the top. It’s important to hear where you went wrong, and it’s equally important to hear what you did right. I know Orion won’t work for everyone and has its flaws; there are things I myself would change. I take criticism as fuel for the next project and use it as a step forward to launch me into an even greater spot.

What’s the biggest sacrifice you’ve made for your art? 

Answer: Making Orion is the project I’m most proud of at this point in time. That and the upcoming feature film I was working on, doing both simultaneously. Feature during the day, short at night. I sacrificed time, money, comfort, energy, relationships, and did a lot of shadow work. Immediately following Orion, I was a Producer on two other projects and flew out to North Carolina, where I was a Producer and AD on that film. I over-extended myself, and it was a dream come true, but it also requires balance, something I’ve now achieved. I worked 12-14 hour days as a PA but was determined to get Orion made. If I was going to make my directorial debut, it had to be something that I myself wanted to tell. Given the scale, my story and characters, love for 80s films and retro gaming I needed to give it my all. I took any route necessary since I knew that this was bigger than myself. There are over 40 people, and you’re responsible for them. I learned so much about myself, and I’m so grateful for this experience in many ways.  Dylan Lee, one of my best friends since middle school, lives in New York and was one of those people who saw the same belief and sacrifices firsthand. Dylan was our Line Producer and created the fundraiser for us, ran our social media, and believed in it from the start. Without him, this wouldn’t exist the way it does, and having people who will help like that, especially when it’s not directly for him, is incredible. 

Is there a story you’ve been carrying inside you for years? 

There is, and Orion is that story. My life felt completely different before and after college, and after having moved back just like Rob, in the film I knew I had to continue my dream of filmmaking and the arts somehow. All of it ties back to experiences from my personal life integrated in some way. Lizzy is named after a person who shares the same name; we met in college. She met me when I was struggling very heavily but saw parts of myself I hadn’t seen, at a time when I really needed a friend. We helped raise money for Parkinson’s on campus, and while we did have something deeper, it never fully got out of the ground. I have a soft spot for her, and she reminded me of Ellen Reed from Family Ties, one of the biggest inspirations for Lizzy. Lea and I both connected on this when we first met, and that’s when I knew this was turning into something very special. Orion is deeply layered and personal to me in a lot of ways, especially when it comes to relationships, feeling lost in your 20s, and unspoken truths; the answer is always to say how you feel. In short, I don’t regret not choosing another idea since I know I’ll continue to grow with my art and ideas; age and time will reflect that. The people are what make the experience, and Orion brought together so many amazing people. Everything I’ve worked towards felt like a culmination of growth with Orion.

 Do you believe cinema can change society? 

Of course! Cinema, or any art for that matter, is a deeper reflection on one’s internal beliefs, philosophy, and feelings told with an individualistic touch. Cinema has something for everyone and value in both. For example, liking a blockbuster-style film or an indie drama can all speak a different version of the same language of film and give a message that changes and creates real-world impact. To me, that is important; art is something everyone should be able to express and enjoy. Whether it is to give a message, tell how you feel or simply just for self-creative fulfillment, either way there's a real shared experience. Music, literature, and film have all made their place as cultural touchstones, and I know that it will continue. 

What’s your relationship with fame? 

I wouldn’t consider myself famous, but gaining recognition and doing interviews like this always creates a sense of appreciation and is very fun! Fame is just a side-note in the real process of making the art. That’s why I always continue to dedicate time to my next project even when nothing is happening, because I share the belief that there is always something happening. Some of my greatest artistic moments are having an impromptu saxophone or guitar session with friends heading down by Studio City, stepping onto an independent short set and communicating with a group, being in front of the camera or in front of the mirror reciting scenes to practice acting or writing for my own enjoyment. Fame is just the icing on the cake; it is always nice to hear that you and your work are being appreciated. 

Have you ever felt misunderstood as an artist? 

Honestly, not really. Of course, it happens occasionally, but I know myself, and I know my style, so I don’t try to be something I’m not. This is why I think as an artist sometimes the best thing you can do is contribute to others to explore a new side of your own creative identity. I felt this way on the project I shot in North Carolina. Doing that style of film was something I had always wanted to do, but I knew I needed to help support that person’s vision and also saw it as a way of gaining a side to my growing catalog. The artistic identity grows and can evolve, but that requires an understanding of what you do and don’t do. It’s a cyclical process of thinking, doing, creating, growing, and then sharing. Walter Pierce, our Co-Producer and Composer who found the location for the film, brought a unique artistic resource to the film that makes it what it is. Working with him in North Carolina and having his touch and fantastic score brought Orion to life. 

 What motivates you more: passion or ambition? 

Answer: That’s a really hard question since, in truth, there is a mix of both, but if I had to choose one, I’m going with passion. I love PA’ing, and getting to PA on commercials is something I love, and I’m so grateful for because I’m just happy to be there. I have ambitions for myself, but I will always achieve them through passion and having the optimism, love, and belief that if I just keep doing what I’m doing, something will lead to another. During this whole process throughout the course of a little over a year, I started to see how my personal and artistic lives blend. Passion drives me to dive deep into the stories of my mind's creation, while the ambition for it helps push me to make it a reality. Especially if your dream is something you can see clearly, with a path leading to it through your current situation. I love the logistics just as much as the creative. It's solving a puzzle to create that circumstance in reality. 

Is there a dream project you haven’t told anyone about yet? 

There is, and the one I stated earlier is one of those that is kept close to the chest. For my other dream projects, I invite you on the journey and follow along. It’s going to be an amazing time. I love doing what I do at any level, and I encourage you to stay optimistic, keep creating, and I hope to work with anyone reading this! 

What’s something audiences would be surprised to know about your process? 

Audiences would be surprised to know just how much I write down in documents and get ahead of early logistics. Maybe that’s just my Producer brain, but I find everything much more efficient, easier, and better overall. Having my time as a PA on a feature film with big names like Ridley Scott, Mila Kunis, and Amazon Prime attached, seeing the ins and outs showed me just how important documents of every element are. Everything from concepts, safety protocols, step-by-step plans, updated call sheets, receipts, cost tracking, and more. I always like to have something to point to within a production that either is a written-down record of what is expected or planned for by the directors and team's vision or, more importantly, a document that can be looked at by someone new joining and having that mutual understanding.  

Do you feel more vulnerable on stage, on set, or while writing? 

I feel most vulnerable when I’m writing. Screenwriting isn’t my strongest suit but a skill I’m trying to develop. Beyond that, I find that writing in general, of any kind, requires a vulnerability that derives from pure thoughts based on life experiences. Writing is a very isolating process which requires proper care, and even when finished, it’s never really finished. Spielberg says the script is always breathing, and he’s right. The time to foster writing, for me, is that important ingredient and why feedback is important. Writing is also one of those things that can cause attachments when film is a delicate balance of detaching and balancing. There are things that can be written, but if it doesn’t fit the vision or needs to be changed, having that space is important. Liam and I had to rewrite the script before filming, and that’s just an example of having the ability to make that change. The funny thing is that as we had to cut and rewrite it all eventually landed closest to my original vision. Writing is a ton of fun and something I continue to practice, but when making a film it’s important to get the proper person for us; that was Trey Kochevar who delivered that tight 12-page screenplay.

 If you had to describe your artistic journey in one word, what would it be? 

It’s very hard to say, but if I had to describe my artistic journey in one word, I would say “Healing.” I came to this realization about five years ago, almost halfway into my first semester of college in freshman year. I had realized that when I’m not doing art of some kind, I find that my way of expressing myself and feelings of growth, comfort, and satisfaction just feel off. During this time, I auditioned for Elon University’s Jazz Ensemble and played jazz alto saxophone. That part of me that needed rhythm and reason was back. Prior to that point, I had been doing music consistently since sixth grade, and while I was navigating that phase of my life, growing in film and music became my way of genuine connection. The same is true with my film career. Being able to heal and live through a childhood fantasy, a world of your creation, an imagined story,  scenario, or a dream based on the version of what you see for yourself and can share within art is part of the magic of film. Being able to play Marty McFly in a recreation of Back to the Future, do a fantasy short film where I’m adventuring in the forest, or in a neon-soaked 80s arcade navigating a relationship. Each of these projects has pieces of me within them that continue to grow, evolve, and heal as a person, making everything exciting all over again. 

When do you feel most proud of yourself? 

I feel most proud of myself in two instances. One is when I’m in the process of doing what I love. Playing saxophone, acting, directing, writing, exploring moments where I can be let free to explore. The second is when I’m able to show the completion of that shadow work, quiet hours, as a tangible thing that lasts. To me, the back and forth between the flow brings me so much happiness. Always do what you love, always.

Daniel McEwan was born on December 10th, 2002. He is a writer/director and has made his first short horror, slasher film, The Welder. It premiered at his alma mater, UC Clermont, which had a modest crowd of seventy people. He is now shopping it around at various film festivals and got selected into Film Fest Fusion as well as received a nominee at Absurd Film Festival. Daniel is also writing a feature film called Anguish about a depressed alcoholic, Frank, who is dealing with a major loss in his life. He is currently submitting to screenwriting contests. Anguish has won the Outstanding Achievement Award at Better Earth International Film Festival.

When did you first feel truly seen as an artist?

Just recently when the New York Script Awards gave me the award for best drama screenplay. It’s the first big festival that has given one of my projects high praise. I also like that my script Anguish is doing so well because that story is very special to me.

Have you ever felt invisible in this industry?

Yes, I feel like I’m getting a lot of recognition on filmfreeway but since I haven't really talked to someone in real life it feels fake sometimes.

 What does failure mean to you?

A way to learn and get better. My goal everyday is just to be better than I was yesterday. That goes for everything in my life, not just film. Just trying to get better everyday is my goal.

Is there a moment in your career that still keeps you awake

at night?

No, I try not to live in the past. I also like where I am in my life so if I change something in the past then who knows where I’d be right now.

Do you create more from love or from conflict?

Definitely conflict. Anguish is a fictionalized version of my struggle with alcohol and You Next to Me is a fictionalized version of a past relationship I was in. I pull from my past pain to create my art. I think the best stories come from that.

What’s a risk you’re still afraid to take?

Maybe moving to LA. But also my priorities have changed in my life. I want different things now.

 Have you ever surprised yourself with your own courage?

Yeah, I guess. I’ve always worked really hard for my dreams and things like that so it makes sense that I would do whatever it takes to get where I want to be.

 What’s the hardest truth you’ve learned about this profession?

I can have all the talent in the world and have the best story ever but it still might not go anywhere. You have to be lucky and good.

 Do you believe art should comfort or disturb?

I think there is room for all types of stories. You should make what you want and don’t pay attention to people who don’t like it. It’s not for them, if you give it your all and put your heart into it then it will find its audience. I love all kinds of movies so I think art should be comforting and disturbing.

What part of your personality do you hide behind your work?

Nothing, I’m pretty open. Some things are hard to say but easy to write down and express through art.

 Is there a collaboration that changed the way you see cinema?

I really like Taxi Driver, De Niro, Scorsese and Schrader are great together. When you watch it you really feel how much those three men are at the top of their game. A fantastic script, great direction and a generational performance. It all comes together like magic! I also really like The Dark Knight with Christopher Nolan and Heath Ledger as well as There Will Be Blood with Paul Thomas Anderson and Daniel Day-Lewis. Two of the best writer-directors of all time paired with, in my opinion, the two best acting performances of all time! 

 When do you feel most exposed: during rehearsals, on set, or

at the premiere?

I would say on set. Everyone is looking to me for everything, which can be a lot sometimes. But I’m thinking about just being a screenwriter and not directing anymore so we’ll see how I feel.

Have you ever felt pressure to be someone you’re not?

No, I just do me.

What’s a compliment you’ll never forget?

The best compliments I have gotten are the ones I give myself. I’m very hard on myself so when I even think I did a good job then I know I’m headed in the right direction.

Do you think your younger self would be proud of you today?

Oh, yeah! I’m like doing the thing now and actually giving it my all so by just doing that my younger self would be very happy.

What do you chase more: perfection or authenticity?

Both I guess. I’m never going to be perfect but it’s a good thing to chase because I’ll never get it. It always leaves me with something to chase and I know I can always get a little better, which is a big win. I also like to be authentic in the feelings of the characters as well as make the story feel real.

 Have you ever created something that scared you?

i’ve had ideas that have scared me. I went through a phase where I was creating dark things. But everyone has dark thoughts sometimes.

 If your career were a film genre, which one would it be?

Kind of a boring answer but a drama. I’m just a normal guy, with ups and downs, struggles and triumphs, like a character in a drama film or story.

James G. Maynard is an award-winning writer, director, and founder of AI Creator House, an independent studio exploring the emerging language of generative cinema. Drawing on a background in science writing, history, education, and visual storytelling, he creates character-driven films that combine new technology with traditional cinematic craft. Since beginning his work in AI-powered filmmaking in 2024, Maynard has completed two feature films and several short-form projects, with his work receiving recognition from international festivals. His films often explore outsiders, hidden histories, institutional power, and the humanity of people overlooked by conventional narratives. He believes generative tools can democratize filmmaking by placing the means of cinematic expression within reach of storytellers everywhere.

When did you first feel truly confident in your craft?

Confidence did not arrive as a thunderbolt. It accumulated frame by frame. Finishing my first feature was the moment I realized I was not merely experimenting with a new technology. I was directing films. Completing my second feature confirmed it. At that point, confidence stopped meaning, “I know exactly what I am doing,” and began meaning, “I trust myself to solve whatever the film demands.”

Have you ever felt like an outsider in this industry?

Constantly. I entered filmmaking from science writing, education, history, and independent media rather than through a studio or film-school pipeline. Then I began making films with generative AI, which placed me outside another set of boundaries. Traditional filmmakers sometimes see the technology before they see the filmmaker, while technology-focused creators sometimes see spectacle before they see story. I tend to live somewhere between those worlds. That can be lonely, but it is also where the most interesting work happens. I eventually stopped treating “outsider” as a diagnosis and began treating it as a camera position.

What’s the hardest “no” you’ve ever received?

The hardest “no” was not one rejection letter. It was the broader assumption that filmmaking belongs only to people with enormous budgets, institutional access, large crews, or permission from an established gatekeeper. I absorbed that message for years. Generative filmmaking allowed me to answer it, not by arguing, but by making the films anyway. Films I used to dream about making for years are now becoming realities within months.

Do you follow your intuition or do you overthink your choices?

My first decision is usually intuitive, and everything after that is obsessive analysis. I know very quickly whether a moment belongs in the film, but then I may spend hours examining the rhythm of a glance, the length of a pause, or whether a character should cross the room three seconds earlier.

Intuition finds the destination. Overthinking packs seventeen suitcases for the journey.

What kind of legacy would you like to leave behind?

I would like to help democratize filmmaking. For most of cinema’s history, an extraordinary number of stories were never told because the storyteller lacked money, equipment, industry access, or a large crew.

I want my work to help prove that cinema can belong to people who were previously locked outside it. The legacy I care about is not simply a collection of my films. It is helping open the door for thousands of films

that could not otherwise exist.

 Is there a project that changed you as a person?

Inside the Madhouse (1887) is changing me as I make it. I am constantly adapting, questioning my assumptions, and growing alongside the film.

The project has forced me to confront the difference between portraying historical suffering and genuinely listening to the people inside that history. My own experience working in human services gave me an

uncomfortable awareness of how easily institutions can describe control as care. As the characters have become more real to me, the project has become less about recreating the past and more about asking how much of that past is still alive around us.

What’s your biggest insecurity as an artist?

My greatest insecurity is whether the emotional experience I see so clearly in my mind has survived the

journey onto the screen.

I can evaluate the framing, sound, pacing, and continuity, but the real question is always harder: Will another person feel what I felt? Technology can produce an image. It cannot guarantee that the image has a soul.

 Do you feel more pressure from yourself or from others?

From myself, without question. External expectations are relatively easy to ignore. The characters and stories often live in my imagination for months, revealed in small glimpses and played out in seemingly endless combinations in the private theatre of my mind. By the time I begin bringing them

to the screen, I have already seen fragments of who they might become and what the film might feel like. The pressure comes from trying to remain faithful to that inner world while still allowing the finished film to

surprise me. I am constantly negotiating between ambition and reality, trying not to let perfectionism strangle the thing it claims to protect.

Have you ever been surprised by your own performance or

writing?

Yes, although I think the surprise usually comes from learning more about the characters as they grow and develop.They may begin as an idea, a voice, or a few scattered images, but as I spend more time with them, their motives, fears, histories, and relationships become clearer. When those private visions finally take tangible form on the screen, they sometimes reveal connections or emotions I had not fully understood before.

Recently, a dialogue scene in Inside the Madhouse developed into an extended sequence told almost entirely through dance, glances, sleight of hand, and piano music. The sequence now runs nearly two and a half

minutes. It grew naturally from what I was discovering about the characters and the way they communicated with one another. 

Those moments do not make me feel that I have mastered the story. They remind me that I am still discovering it.

What’s the most unexpected opportunity you’ve ever had?

The most unexpected opportunity has been the opportunity to become a filmmaker at all. The success of the science show I hosted led me, bit by bit, into new forms of media and eventually into AI-powered filmmaking. 

I had spent years writing about science, history, and culture. I had studied directing and screenwriting and carried films around in my imagination, but the practical machinery of production remained out of reach.

Then the tools changed. Suddenly, a path appeared where no path had existed, and I had to decide whether I truly meant all those things I had said about wanting to make films.

Do you believe in luck in this profession?

Not so much in luck as in opportunity, combined with the willingness and ability to take chances. Opportunities appear, but they do not always announce themselves clearly. Sometimes they look unstable,

strange, or completely unlike the path you imagined. You have to be prepared to recognize them, risk failing, and follow them somewhere new.

Generative filmmaking became possible at exactly the right moment for me, but pursuing it still required the willingness to step into territory where there were no established maps.

Who was the first person who truly believed in you?

For the first half of my life, it was my father, Robert Maynard, who believed in me when almost no one else would. He taught me that a person did not have to choose between engineering and art, logic and imagination.

For this half of my life, it is my wonderful wife, Nicole Hennig. She believed that all the apparently disconnected parts of me could become one creative life, including during the years when the films existednmostly as impossible plans, unfinished sequences, and alarming numbers of files.

Genuine belief is not simply praise. It is taking someone’s vision seriously before all the evidence has arrived.

 What do you do when inspiration disappears?

That usually means a character has not yet told me some part of what she is doing, feeling, or has lived through. Sometimes it helps to explore another part of her life: her childhood, her teenage years, her greatest hope,

or her worst memory. I may never place that information directly into the film, but it helps me understand why she makes the choices she does.

For me, discovering the character is usually what unlocks the story.

Is there a dream role or film you still hope to create?

There are films I have been dreaming about since I was young, but where my storytelling truly lives is at the edge of human history, imagination, and the future. I love reimagining ancient legends and characters. My second feature film, Nobody Believes Cassandra, places the ancient prophetess whom no one believed into the near future as an AI developer whose

creation predicts a major disaster. Once again, no one believes her.

That territory, at the boundary between the distant past and the approaching future, leaves me with an endless supply of stories.

What’s the most emotional moment you’ve experienced on set?

My sets do not always resemble conventional sets. The most emotional moment often comes after months of work, when the performances, images, voices, music, and editing suddenly lock together.

For weeks or months, I am assembling fragments and trusting that they will eventually become something

alive. Then there is a moment when the film stops feeling like a project I am constructing and begins to feel like the realization of the vision I originally carried inside me. That is when the film tells me it has been born.

Do awards matter to you? Why or why not?

Awards matter, but not because they determine whether a film has value. Their real importance is recognition and connection.

Like all serious independent digital work, filmmaking can involve long periods of creating in relative isolation. When a jury in another country responds to the work, it tells you that something crossed the distance between your imagination and theirs. That is deeply meaningful.

Then, the following morning, you still have to return to the timeline and make the next scene work.

 What advice would you give to your younger self?

You are going to receive much more criticism than you expect. A lot more.

Do not let it break you. Learn from the criticism that contains something useful, discard the criticism that does not, and let all of it help drive you forward.

Stop waiting to feel authorized. Study everything, because none of it will be wasted. The science, history, music, theatre, strange jobs, failures, detours, and obsessions will eventually begin speaking to one

another. Your path will not resemble the path you imagined, but it may become far more interesting.

 If cinema didn’t exist, who would you be?

I am always exploring frontiers. I would probably be investigating new possibilities for what could exist and pushing toward whatever might come next.The things that interest me most are new forms of expression and communication that do not yet exist, andnnfinding ways to make them real. Cinema happens to be where science, history, performance, visual art,

music, and storytelling can all occupy the same space.nWithout cinema, I suspect I would spend my life trying to invent something very much like it.

Pamela Conley Ulich is just a girl who prays, writes, directs, and produces works that explore resilience, justice, and the sacredness of everyday life. A former in-house counsel for the Directors Guild of America and the Screen Actors Guild who is now a partner at her own firm. She is a former mayor of Malibu who now serves on the Arts Commission, and she brings a deep commitment to and love of community and storytelling to her projects, including the documentary project A Disaster Diary: Learn. Pray. Prepare. She teaches “Dealmaking in the Entertainment Industry”, is writing “Getting Gritty and Finding Flow: Your Go-To Power Playbook for Dealmaking in Life and the Entertainment Industry” and mentors emerging creatives, championing authentic voices and stories that heal, challenge, and inspire.

What's the necessary ingredient to be a good actor/director/screenwriter?

Three ingredients have helped me: radical empathy, compassion, and perseverance.

If you can truly step into another person’s skin and open your heart to feel their fear, hope, shame, and joy, then you can act truthfully, direct with integrity, and write characters who are fully human and are filled with soul and two entities who live on their shoulders, the Angel and the Rebel.  You also need to have perseverance and grit to never give up despite setbacks because projects can take years to complete. Without perseverance, you’ll never get your dreams and your projects done.

First and last cinematographic crush?

First: To Kill a Mockingbird. I fell deeply for the moral courage of Atticus Finch, and the story's quiet power made me fall in love with what film can do.

Last: Barbie That movie proved the power of one director with vision and a can do work ethic could make history filming during the pandemic.  She stayed true to her heart and created a box office hit from a small 11.5-inch doll named Barbie.  Director Greta Gerwig inspired the next generation of girls to see how small moments and the way we play as children can become epic and transformative.

How old were you when you decided you wanted to be an actor/director/screenwriter?

I didn’t “decide” once; I decided many times. As a kid, I loved stories. As a lawyer, I realized I was already telling stories—just in briefs I wrote for arbitrations.  I consciously chose directing and writing as my path in my 40s, when I understood that storytelling could hold all of me: the advocate, the mother, the seeker, the artist in a human experience.

For you a Film is…

A sacred mirror. It shows us who we are, who we’ve been, and who we might become, if we’re brave enough to really look and take chances.

What do you feel when you're acting/directing/writing?

When I’m directing or writing well, I feel both very small and very connected. Small, because the story is always bigger than me. Connected, because there are moments when it feels like the scene or sentence is coming through me, not just from me. Ultimately, like creating anything, you can experience a flow state where time ceases to exist and hours can feel like mere seconds.

You can go to the movies with an actor/director/screenwriter that you love. What kind of movie do you choose and with who are you going to watch it?

I’d go with Greta Gurwig to see a small, new filmmaker’s first feature at a local festival. I’d rather share that experience, discovering a fresh voice, than rewatch a classic. I think the conversation afterward would be about craft, courage, responsibility and how we can support and help the next generation of filmmakers.

Audrey Hepburn used to say “Nothing is impossible.” What do you think about it?

Amen! I think many things are possible, but often the most fulfilling things in life are never easy.  Dreams need discipline. Faith needs work. What we call “impossible” often just needs more time, more allies, and more stubborn love to transform your journey and your work into “I’m possible.”

Can you live just off your passion?

You can live for your passion, but not always off it, at least not right away.

I’ve worn many hats, lawyer, teacher, and public servant, while nurturing my creative work. There is no shame in having a day job; the shame is in abandoning the voice inside you because the path isn’t instantly profitable.

What's more important: talent or luck?

Character and Faith. Talent opens the first door. Luck opens some surprising ones. Character and Faith, showing up prepared, kind, and resilient, keep you in the room and build the relationships that outlast any one project.

You must go to a desert island but you can bring with you just one movie…

I’d bring Cast Away. It wrestles with grief, grace, family, and how to persevere when you are stranded and alone. 

Have you ever accepted a part / a movie to direct / a script to write even if you didn't like the project?

No. Thank God. 

What's the best compliment you have received about your job?

When someone says, “Your work made me feel less alone,” or, “I felt something sacred from your story.”

Are you satisfied about your career?

I’m grateful for how far I’ve come, but I’m not “satisfied” in the sense of done. Every role has taught me something, every failure has stripped away some ego. I’m grateful, but I still feel hungry—that tension between gratitude and ambition is what keeps the work honest.

Do you have a good luck charm?

I wear a Rosary for protection.  I also try to pray every day and remind myself: “You’re here to serve.” This grounds me more than any charm could.

Which is the worst moment on set?

The worst moments are when fear takes over and when you’re worried about being “good.”  Searching for approval never serves me on set or in life.

How do you feel when a job you’ve been part of is ending?

It feels like a part of your heart is now gone.  There’s grief, but also relief. 

Have you ever lied to get a part/job?

Not worth lying to get a job.  If you can find a way, you make your own way. 

If you should win an Oscar your first thought would go to…

I would thank God, my family and the version of me who almost gave up—the one was told she didn’t have talent and couldn’t direct, the one who collected hundreds of no's and rejections.  I’d thank that little girl who was told she couldn’t do X, Y or Z and did it anyway.  I’d say, “We made it here not because we were chosen, but because we refused to leave.  In my heart and soul, I believe God doesn’t choose the ones who are ready; He chooses the willing, then makes them ready."

Derek Frey is a filmmaker drawn to stories that exist between the surreal and the deeply human. A longtime collaborator of Tim Burton, he has worked on live-action and animated feature films such as Big Fish, Corpse Bride, Alice in Wonderland, and Dumbo, contributing to visually distinctive worlds that merge fantasy with emotional depth. 
In his own directorial work, Frey explores themes of identity, connection, and quiet dislocation through dark humor and heightened reality. His latest film The Current State of the Backyard Pool Industry embodies this sensibility, transforming the familiar into something strange, intimate, and unexpectedly lyrical. 
His films continue to move fluidly between large-scale productions and personal filmmaking, united by a curiosity for the emotional truths that lie beneath the surface.

What’s the loneliest part of your artistic journey?

The loneliest, or maybe the most hollow, moment comes right after you finish a project. During the process, especially in editing, you’re wrapped in it. There’s a kind of protective haze where the film is still yours, still evolving, still private. You’re shaping it, refining it, living inside it.

Then there’s a moment where it’s over.

You step out of that space, and the film no longer belongs just to you. It’s about to belong to everyone. That transition can feel strangely exposing. What was once this quiet, internal experience becomes something public, open to interpretation, to judgment, to connection.

I always feel both excited and a little emptied out at that point. There’s a kind of emotional security in the making of something, and once it’s finished, that disappears.

Have you ever felt addicted to the creative process?

I’m always addicted to the process. I really have been from the beginning. I’ve always loved every phase of it, from the earliest idea through production, but especially the editing. That’s where everything starts to come alive for me.

There’s a rhythm and a comfort to it that’s hard to step away from. Time kind of dissolves. You start chasing something intangible, a feeling, a moment of alignment between image, sound, and performance. On The Current State of the Backyard Pool Industry, the final sequence into the credits became that for me. It was about finding a kind of emotional release through structure, music, and movement.

I’ve felt that same pull working on larger films like Dumbo or Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children, but there’s something uniquely immersive about it when you’re closer to every decision, like directing the Pangea music video. It stops being about control and becomes more about discovery. Once you’re in that space, it’s very hard to leave.

What’s a belief you had at the beginning of your career that you no longer have?

Early on, I believed that once filmmakers reached a certain level, there was a sense of ease that came with it. That the uncertainty would fade and the process would become more predictable.

What I’ve come to realize is that uncertainty never really goes away. It just scales with you.

Making films is inherently difficult, and the business around it is constantly shifting. The same creative questions and doubts I felt making something with no budget like Verge of Darkness are still there when working on larger films like Dumbo or Dark Shadows. They are just amplified, with higher stakes and more moving parts.

At a certain point, you stop expecting it to get easier. You start recognizing that this is the process. In a strange way, that realization is freeing.

Do you think suffering makes better art?

I don’t think suffering necessarily equates to better art, but there is some truth to the idea that, at times, something meaningful can emerge from it. It can sharpen your perspective or push you to explore things more deeply, but it’s not a requirement.

For me, it’s really about honesty. Sometimes that honesty comes from difficult experiences, but it can just as easily come from observation, empathy, or even humor. The Current State of the Backyard Pool Industry touches on anxiety and disconnection, but it approaches those ideas through absurdity and playfulness. That felt more truthful than leaning into darkness alone.

Even in films like Sweeney Todd or Viaticum, which explore heavier emotional spaces, it’s not the suffering itself that resonates. It’s the clarity of emotion underneath it.

What’s the most personal story you’re still afraid to tell?

I wouldn’t say it’s the story I’m afraid to tell. It’s more the one that’s most challenging for me to fully immerse myself in. The concept is very personal to me, and it’s also quite psychological and dark. I think about it often, but putting myself into that headspace for a prolonged period to write it is something I’m not quite ready for yet.

As a filmmaker, you’re not just telling the story. You’re living inside it for a long stretch. Some emotional spaces are harder to inhabit than others. I’ve found that I often approach those ideas indirectly first, through surrealism or dark comedy, like in Motel Providence or Kill the Engine. It creates a bit of distance, a way of circling something difficult before stepping fully into it.

With the project I consider most personal, I know I’ll get there eventually. It’s just a matter of being ready to stay in that space long enough to do it honestly.

6. Have you ever compromised your vision?

Compromise is constantly at play for any filmmaker, and I don’t really view it as a negative. It’s part of the process. Film is collaborative by nature, and you’re always responding to new ideas, limitations, and discoveries along the way.

What I’ve found is that through compromise, you often arrive at something better than what you originally envisioned. It forces you to adapt, to rethink, and to stay open. Whether it’s producing on large-scale films like Charlie and the Chocolate Factory or Alice in Wonderland, or a more contained project, the goal is to protect the core of the story while allowing it to evolve. Adapting and moving forward is really at the heart of filmmaking.

What does “making it” really mean to you?

For me, “making it” comes down to whether the work resonates with people. Whether it makes an audience laugh, cry, feel uneasy, or even scared. Moving people in some way is what it’s about.

The films I’m proudest of, whether it’s something I’ve directed like The Current State of the Backyard Pool Industry, or earlier work like Captain Crabcakes, or films I’ve been part of like Big Fish, are the ones that stay with people. The ones that come up years later in conversation, where someone remembers how it made them feel. That kind of connection, that lasting impression, is what “making it” means to me.

Who do you create for when nobody is watching?

At the core, I’m always creating for myself. It starts as an expression of something I’m trying to understand, explore, or work through. That’s the initial spark, and it has to come from a place that feels personal and honest.

Early on, especially with my college films like Into Thin Air and Marooned In Our Room, the work was very raw. It was pure expression, almost just energy being put onto the screen without much consideration of how it would be received. It was instinctive. Over time, that’s evolved. You do start to think about the audience more. Not in a way that compromises the idea, but in how you shape it. How you craft something so that others can connect with it, feel something from it, and hopefully take something away from it.

So it always begins as something personal, but it’s built with the hope that it reaches beyond that.

What’s a failure that secretly helped you grow?

Early in my career, I put a lot of weight on how a project was received externally. Box office, reviews, that kind of immediate response. If something didn’t land the way I’d hoped, it could feel like a failure.

Over time, I’ve come to see that those initial reactions don’t always define a film’s life. Some projects find their audience later. They get rediscovered, reinterpreted, and embraced in ways you couldn’t have predicted.  Film is art.

That shift helped me focus more on the process and the work itself. What you learn, how you grow, and how each project informs the next.

Do you think competition is healthy in the film industry?

Competition can be healthy. It can push people to raise their game. But at the same time, we’re in a moment where many of the larger studios are folding into each other, and the playing field is actually getting smaller. That’s a real concern. Fewer platforms and fewer decision-makers can mean fewer opportunities for diverse voices and risk-taking. So while competition can be motivating creatively, structurally it’s important that the industry continues to support a wide range of filmmakers and perspectives.

For me, collaboration will always be more important than competition.

What’s the most human moment you’ve experienced on set?

There are moments when performance and reality blur slightly, and you can feel something genuine happening in front of the camera.

I remember that on Big Fish. There was a sincerity to the emotion that felt very pure. And on Sweeney Todd, particularly in Johnny Depp’s performance, there were moments of raw emotion that didn’t feel like acting so much as something deeply internal coming to the surface.

Those are the moments that stay with you. They remind you that beyond all the technical aspects, filmmaking is really about capturing something human.

Is there a role, film, or script that feels unfinished in your heart?

There are definitely films that, in hindsight, felt like they were cut a bit short in post-production due to looming release dates. Sometimes the schedule dictates the finish line, rather than the film itself telling you when it’s truly ready.

I’ve had experiences where, with more time to refine and shape things appropriately, I believe the final result could have been stronger. That’s part of the reality of working in both independent and studio environments. There are always constraints. But those experiences stay with you. They shape how you approach the next project and reinforce how valuable time is in the finishing process.

Do you separate your personal identity from your artistic one?

They’re connected, but not identical, and that’s something that’s evolved over time. Earlier in my career, there was very little separation between my personal identity and my artistic one. The work and my life were almost completely intertwined. But with time, responsibilities, and having a family, it’s only natural, and healthy, to create more of a distinction.

The work still reflects parts of who I am, but it doesn’t define me in the same all-encompassing way it once did. That separation has actually been beneficial. It allows for clearer perspective, both creatively and personally.

What’s the hardest goodbye you’ve had to say to a project?

They’re all difficult to say goodbye to in different ways, but Big Fish was a particularly hard one to part with. The entire experience of making that film was such a positive and creatively fulfilling one. There was a real sense of joy and collaboration, and I think that energy lives on in the film itself. It also led to meaningful relationships and friendships that I still carry with me.

On a more personal level, my own film Green Lake was also hard to let go of. It was a long journey from start to finish, with a particularly intensive post-production process. I spent a lot of time shaping it, so stepping away from it felt like leaving something behind.

There’s always a sense of loss when a project ends, but that’s also what pushes you toward the next one.

Have you ever felt creatively burned out?

Fortunately, I don’t think I’ve ever felt completely creatively burned out. There are moments, after a particularly demanding shoot or a long post, where I feel depleted. You’ve been so immersed that it takes time to reset.

But even then, my mind is already moving toward what’s next. I’ve never been someone who enjoys being idle for too long. There’s always another idea forming in the background. The creative impulse doesn’t really shut off. It just shifts gears.

 What inspires you more: chaos or structure?

Both are essential. Structure gives you a framework. It allows the story to function. But chaos is often where the most interesting ideas emerge.

Different projects require different balances. I like to be well prepared, but I also try to leave room for things to surprise and percolate during a shoot. Some of the best moments come from the unexpected.

It’s probably one of the reasons I enjoy creating music videos so much. The music provides the guardrails, sometimes even a loose narrative structure, but within that there’s a freedom to explore and embrace a bit of chaos.

That balance between control and openness is something I’m always chasing.

If you had to start over from zero, would you choose the same path?

Yes, without hesitation. I’ve genuinely enjoyed the path. The people I’ve met, the collaborations, and the projects and experiences along the way have all been incredible. I’ve also been fortunate to have the support of so many talented people throughout it all, and that’s made a huge difference in my evolution as a filmmaker.

At the end of the day, it still feels like a fun, unpredictable, sometimes chaotic ride through filmmaking, and one I’m grateful to still be on. And that’s a big part of why I’d choose it all over again.

When your career ends one day, what do you hope people will say about you?

I hope that when people look back at my work, they can see a consistent thread running through it. A storytelling voice that moves between the otherworldly and the deeply human, embracing the offbeat, the emotional, and the unexpected. I’ve always been drawn to stories that celebrate the unusual, the emotional, the strange. Whether it’s something I’ve directed like The Current State of the Backyard Pool Industry or Green Lake, or films I’ve been part of like Mars Attacks! or Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, there’s a part of me that’s always pushing toward something a little off-center.

And hopefully, they’d say I raised the freak flag high, embraced individuality, championed the outsider, and stayed true to that voice.

Born in Launceston, Tasmania, and raised in the coastal wilds of Papua New Guinea, Drew Kelly grew up surrounded by the sea, jungles, and wildlife encounters that shaped his earliest memories. His fascination with imagery was sparked by his father, an adventurous skier and photographer who captured the dramatic landscapes of New Zealand. That legacy of visual storytelling became the foundation for Drew’s lifelong creative path. Always drawing, painting, and crafting images with intent, Drew earned a studentship to the Tasmanian School of Art, where he discovered the technical and expressive power of photography and film. Hunting Secrets of the Tropical Whale is Drew’s first long-form documentary - an effort to bring global attention to a mysterious tropical whale whose story is still being written.

When did you realize this wasn’t just a passion, but your life’s path?

I find myself here after a long experience in the creative pursuit of life. The path has never been fixed - it meanders through the woods. What matters to me is remaining open and attentive. Filmmaking is the vehicle, not the motivation; it allows me to share a way of seeing that continues to unfold.

Who were you before cinema found you?

Before cinema, I was already searching. I was someone drawn to open horizons - to the ocean, to the sky, to questions without easy answers. I’ve always been attentive to patterns in nature and human behaviour. Film didn’t change that instinct; it gave it form. Cinema became a way to stay in conversation with the world.

Has success changed the way you see yourself?

Success has softened my urgency but sharpened my responsibility. Recognition doesn’t redefine me; it reminds me that the work carries weight beyond my own experience. It has made me more careful with truth, more patient with process.

What fear do you still carry onto every set?

The fear of missing the moment. In wildlife filmmaking, a breach, a glance, a shift in light - they don’t repeat. That awareness keeps me alert. It’s not anxiety; it’s reverence.

Is there a dream you’re still afraid to say out loud?

To create a body of work that quietly outlives me - films that remain relevant not because of spectacle, but because they invite people back into presence.

What part of the creative process feels almost sacred to you?

The first assembly - when the footage begins to reveal what it wants to become. There’s a moment when the narrative stops being imposed and starts emerging. That listening feels sacred.

Have you ever felt lost after finishing a project?

Always. Finishing a film is like leaving a landscape you’ve lived in for months or years. There’s a disorientation that follows - a silence where the characters and the whales no longer move beside you. But that emptiness is also fertile ground for the next question.

What does silence mean to you in your work?

Silence is where truth gathers. In nature, silence is never empty - it’s textured, alive. I use silence not as absence, but as invitation. It allows the audience to meet the image halfway.

Do you create more to express yourself or to be understood?

To explore. Expression and understanding are by-products. If I’m fully engaged in exploration, the work will resonate with those who are ready to meet it.

Have you ever felt overshadowed by someone you admire?

Of course. But admiration, when healthy, becomes direction rather than comparison. It shows you what’s possible. The key is not to imitate, but to refine your own voice.

What’s a belief about this industry that you no longer agree with?

That louder is better. I don’t believe impact requires noise. Subtle work can carry extraordinary power if it trusts its audience.

Do you think vulnerability is a strength in cinema?

Yes. Vulnerability is the bridge between filmmaker and audience. Without it, the work becomes technical rather than human. With it, even a whale breach can feel personal.

 If you could dedicate your career to one theme, what would it be?

IInterconnection - between humans and the natural world. Hunting Secrets of the Tropical Whale is an expression of that theme, but it’s something I return to again and again: the idea that we are not separate from what we observe.

What’s the most honest scene you’ve ever written or performed?

The moments where I admit uncertainty - where the narration doesn’t claim to know, but to witness. Honesty often lies in restraint.

Do you feel more free within limitations or without them?

Within them. Limitations focus perception. Working with weather, distance, regulations, or a single lens forces clarity. Constraint becomes discipline; discipline becomes freedom.

What’s the difference between who you are and who the audience sees?

The audience sees the distilled version - the voice shaped by editing. In reality, I’m still questioning, still revising, still learning. The films are more composed than I am.

When do you feel most alive during a project?

In the field - when the unexpected happens and instinct takes over. A sudden breach, a change in wind, a fleeting alignment of sound and image. Those seconds collapse time.

If this were your last film or performance, what would you want it to say?

Slow down. Pay attention. The world is speaking - not loudly, but continuously. Hunting Secrets of the Tropical Whale is part of that conversation. And we belong to it.

My interest in film is lifelong, rooted in my early years building stories with Legos and creating film shorts in high school. I have always felt a deep connection to the camera, whether I am behind the lens capturing a story or in front of it performing. I am fascinated by how simple cuts and angles can turn a series of shots into a compelling memory or narrative. My curiosity extends beyond traditional cinema; I am eager to explore how film techniques can be applied to marketing, commercials, and brand content, especially as the world becomes increasingly video based.

When did you realize you wanted to be a Filmmaker\Actor\Writer?

My passion began at age six. Armed with my parents' camera, I found joy in documenting the world through photos and videos.

Do you remember your first time at the Movies?



I have fond memories of seeing Spider-Man 2 with my uncle and cousins. We took a minivan and managed to get lost along the way, but the detour only added to the fun. It turned out to be a fantastic movie and a memorable day.

If you were to change countries, where would you like to work?



Given the opportunity to work internationally, I would be drawn to a tropical environment like Costa Rica.

Two films that have marked your life for better or for worse…

My life was shaped for the better by two very different films: The Silence of the Lambs and Big Hero 6.

What do you think about Acting/ filmmaking schools?

Filmmaking school has been an incredible experience. Even though I’m still a student, being around like minded creators and learning through hands on work has helped me pick up so many new skills.

Have you ever hated your ambition?



People tell me I have a god complex, but I’m really just a person who won't quit. We only get one life. Why wouldn't I try to do it all?

Francois Truffaut used to think that "Film Lovers are sick people”… was he right?



To enjoy watching or making films requires months of hyper focus and a massive time commitment. Perhaps others see that level of dedication as a 'sickness' because they aren't wired to push themselves that hard.

Close your eyes…if I say “Cinema” what do you see?



The room is filled with people collaborating, their faces bright with smiles as they work.

Who’s the Director\Actor\Writer that taught you the most?



Viola Davis is the person who has taught me the most.

About your job, tell us your biggest dream and your worst nightmare…



I dream of a life defined by the freedom to travel at a moment's notice. Because I see the world through a lens, my greatest fear is losing my sight , losing the ability to experience color and the stories captured in pictures.

How important is it to have a good Cinematographic Culture?



It’s important because it fosters empathy. We need to see how many different people see the world.

What would you like to improve as a Filmmaker\Actor\Writer?



I strive to improve every day because I consider myself a lifelong student.

A big producer give you the chance to direct\to play (in) the remake of one of your favorite black and white Movie (if you have one)… what film do you choose?



It would Dr. Strangelove

Film Industry it’s a tough place and sometimes is normal to feel lost and discouraged… who’s the person that keeps you motivated?

My mother is my greatest motivation. Even in the hardest times, she always finds a way to keep smiling.

Alfred Hitchcock said: "To make a good film you need 3 things: The script, the script and the script".  Do you agree with him?

What’s your most ambitious project for the future?

I totally agree , a great script is the foundation for everything. Without it, a director can't really bring the story to life. My big dream is to launch a film festival that funds students to make a movie in just one week, ending with a huge screening where people can vote for their favorites!


Do you think that sadness or at least melancholy let be more creative?

It’s important because it fosters empathy. We need to see how many different people see the world.

What do you wish to yourself as a Filmmaker\Actor \Writer?

My only wish is that I never stop writing or using a camera.

My name is Mekhi Harper, and I’m a filmmaker, writer, and director focused on character-driven storytelling and emotional realism. My work explores identity, inner conflict, and human vulnerability through a visually grounded cinematic style. With experience in short films and animation, I can craft intimate narratives that emphasize atmosphere, tension, and the power of quiet moments.

When did you realised you wanted to be a Filmmaker\Actor\Writer? 

I wanted to be a Writer ever since I was a kid.

Do you remember your first time at the Movies? 

No, but the genre that I watch when I was a kid is superheroes.

If you should change country where would you like to work? 

United States because I was born and raised here.



Two films that have marked your life for better or for worse… 

The two films that mark my life for the better is “The X Men” and “The Adventures of Sharkboy and “Lavagirl”.

What do you think about Acting/ filmmaking schools?

 I never went to those types of schools. I always wanted to be a writer, so I attended schools that have writing. That was until I was trying to get my bachelors degree for me to develop a liking in film.

Have you ever hated your ambition?

 

Never.

Francois Truffaut used to think that "Film Lovers are sick people”… was 

he right?

 

It depends on one’s perspective, no matter what people say or do, film lovers will always find love in films.

Close your eyes…if I say “Cinema” what do you see?

 

I see popcorn, Pepsi, clapperboard and black and white screen.

Who’s the Director\Actor\Writer that taught you the most?

 

Stan Lee due to him creating a whole bunch of Marvel Characters that I love.

About your job, tell us your biggest dream and your worst nightmare…

 

My biggest dream is to be a part of either Marvel studios or DC studios or have my own studio that rivals them. My worst nightmare is unable to achieve every dream that I want.

How important is to have a good Cinematographic Culture?



Extremely important because it shows you the raw emotions from the characters in one shot.

What would you like to improve as a Filmmaker\Actor\Writer?



I would like to know everything involving film as a filmmaker.

A big producer give you the chance to direct\to play (in) the remake of 

one of your favorite black and white Movie (if you have one)… what film do you choose?

 

I don’t have one.

Film Industry it’s a tough place and sometimes is normal to feel lost 

and discouraged… who’s the person that keeps you motivated? 

My parents.

Alfred Hitchcock said: "To make a good film you need 3 things: The 

script, the script and the script".  Do you agree with him?

Yes, because you must always have a plan.



What’s your most ambitious project for the future? 

Create a superhero universe that rivals marvel or dc.

Do you think that sadness or at least melancholy let be more creative? 

Unsure.

What do you wish to yourself as a Filmmaker\Actor \Writer? 

Keep meeting people with same interests, improve your skills, and keep creating.

Enrico is a London-based film director and composer working primarily in science fiction and music-driven cinema. His work is defined by a precise fusion of image, sound, and design, where narrative, rhythm, and atmosphere are conceived as a single system. Moving seamlessly between futuristic worlds and intimate human moments, he builds films that feel engineered in form yet deeply emotional in impact. With a background spanning cinema, music composition, and advanced production techniques, Enrico approaches filmmaking as a total language — sculpting light, space, movement, and sound to create immersive audiovisual experiences. His films and music videos are marked by strong visual identities, controlled palettes, and soundtracks that drive both structure and emotion. Whether working on speculative sci-fi narratives or performance-led pieces, his focus remains constant: creating cinema that feels timeless, visceral, and unmistakably authored.

The biggest challenge of being an actor\director\ screenplayer is…

The biggest challenge of being an actor, director, and screenwriter is staying true to your vision while remaining open to others. It’s a delicate balance between listening and deciding, between vulnerability and responsibility. Every project asks you to expose yourself, to doubt, and to start again, and it’s exactly in that tension that cinema finds its truth.

Choose an Actor, Choose an Actress...and now choose a story you would like to direct or play with both of them

I would choose Adam Driver and Tilda Swinton.

The story I’d love to direct with them is an intimate sci-fi drama about two people living in parallel timelines who can only meet through sound. They don’t see each other at first, they hear each other’s voices, footsteps, breathing, until the boundaries between worlds slowly collapse. It would be a film about connection, isolation, and the way memory and emotion travel beyond space and time, carried as much by silence and music as by dialogue.

Who’s the first Aritst that let you understand you wanted to be an Actor\ director\screenplayer?

The first artist who made me understand that I wanted to become a director and screenwriter was Federico Fellini.

His films showed me that cinema could be personal, emotional, and imaginative at the same time, not just a story, but a world shaped by memory, dreams, and intuition. Watching his work made me realize that filmmaking could be a deeply subjective act, and that was the moment I knew I wanted to express myself through cinema.

What really excites you artistically or emotionally?

What really excites me artistically and emotionally is the moment when emotion becomes visible,  when a look, a movement, or a silence says more than words. Because I’m also a composer, I’m deeply drawn to the intimacy between sound and visible emotion, to how music can reveal what an image is holding inside. It’s that alignment between what you see and what you hear that moves me the most.

Marlon Brando said “Never confuse the size of your Paycheck with the size of your talent”. Do you agree?

Yes, I totally agree. A paycheck often reflects timing, access, and the market, not the depth of someone’s talent. Talent is proven over time, through risk, consistency, and the ability to move people, even when the resources are small. Of course success matters and artists deserve to be paid well, but money is not a reliable measure of artistic value. The real measure is what remains when the hype is gone: the work.

Have you ever been discouraged by someone about your life\career choices?

Yes, I have. It happens to everyone at some point. When you choose a creative path, doubt often comes from outside before it comes from within. But over time I learned that discouragement usually says more about other people’s fears than about your own direction. It forced me to clarify why I was doing this in the first place, and in that sense it actually strengthened my commitment rather than weakening it

Do you think is harder for a woman being a Filmmaker?

Yes, I do think it’s harder. Not because of talent or vision, but because the industry still carries structural and cultural biases that women have to navigate every day. Women are often required to prove their authority, competence, and voice more than men, especially in leadership roles like directing. That said, I’m constantly inspired by women filmmakers who turn that pressure into strength, clarity, and originality. Their perspective is not just needed — it’s essential for cinema to truly reflect the world we live in.

Do you think that Fame and money could easily change your own Vision as a Filmmaker\actor\screenplay?

They can, if you let them. Fame and money bring comfort, expectations, and noise, and all of that can slowly pull you away from your original instinct. But they can also offer freedom, the freedom to protect your vision, choose your collaborators, and take creative risks. For me, the challenge is staying grounded and curious, remembering that the vision comes first. If that stays intact, success becomes a tool rather than a distraction.

Who’s the Movie star that made you dream for the first time?

I’d say Marcello Mastroianni and Roger Moore. As a child, Roger Moore represented pure cinematic fantasy — adventure, elegance, and the idea that cinema could be larger than life. He made movies feel like dreams you could step into.

Mastroianni came later and opened a different door: a more intimate, ironic, and human way of being on screen. Together, they shaped both sides of my imagination — the dream and the depth.

Make a wish about your career...

I wish to keep the freedom to choose stories that truly matter to me, and the courage to tell them in my own voice. To grow without losing sensitivity, and to keep building films where image, sound, and emotion remain deeply connected, no matter how the industry around me changes.

Talking about cinema\Showbusiness, how hard is to remain completly honest to yourself as an artist?

It’s very hard. Cinema and show business constantly ask you to adapt to trends, expectations, numbers, and visibility. The pressure isn’t always obvious, but it’s persistent. Remaining honest means learning when to listen and when to protect your inner voice. It’s a daily negotiation. For me, honesty isn’t a fixed state, it’s a choice you have to make again with every project.

The Film you have loved the most?

Cinema Paradiso

And now, don’t be shy….the one that annoyed you the most?

I’d say Transformers.

Not because of its scale or technical achievement, which are impressive, but because it represents a kind of cinema where spectacle overwhelms emotion. For me, when noise replaces intimacy and everything is pushed to excess, I lose the connection. It’s a reminder that bigger isn’t always deeper, and that cinema needs emotion as much as impact.

Your biggest artistic goal is…

My biggest artistic goal is to create films that feel timeless, works where image, sound, and emotion are inseparable, and where technology serves sensitivity rather than replacing it. I want to build a body of work that stays with people quietly, like a memory, and continues to resonate long after the film has ended.

What profession other than your own would you like to attempt?

If I weren’t a filmmaker, I’d want to focus entirely on music, specifically composing soundtracks. I’m fascinated by how sound can shape emotion, memory, and perception without being seen. Writing music for films, theatre, or even imagined worlds would still allow me to tell stories, just through rhythm, texture, and silence instead of images.

How important is to be rewarded as an Artist?

Being rewarded is meaningful, it’s a form of recognition and encouragement, a sign that the work has reached someone. But it’s not what defines an artist or the value of the work. Awards come and go; what matters more is staying honest to your vision and continuing to create, even when there’s no external validation. In the end, the most important reward is knowing the work is true to who you are.

Do you have regrets?

I sometimes wish I had started earlier. But at the same time, I know I wouldn’t have had the same depth, patience, or sensitivity. Everything I lived before cinema fed the way I see and feel stories today. So rather than a regret, it feels more like an awareness, that timing shapes the work as much as intention.

What’s the messagge you wanna express through your art?

The message I want to express is that emotion is a form of truth. That beneath noise, speed, and surface, there is something fragile and human that connects us all. Through my work, I try to remind people to slow down, to feel, and to listen — because in that space, we recognize ourselves in others.

Laura Beth Berry is an actor, dancer and educator living in Columbus, Mississippi. She studied English Literature at The University of the South, Sewanee. She has been a regular player in the Tennessee Williams Tribute Festival, held in his birthplace and her hometown. Her goal is that all her work would honor her Creator.

When did you decide you wanted to be an actor/director/ screenplayer?

My mother can tell you the exact day she realized she was raising a performer. I was two years old. I picked up one of those red mesh bags that had previously held super-market oranges and pulled it over my head. It was tight enough to push my nose and lips in and make my eyes squinty. Immediately, I was someone else, and I realized I had the freedom to behave differently. The delighted reaction I received from my family must have made a deep impression on me, as I have been seeking applause ever since. My own decision to act came much later. While I enjoyed acting in some high school and college plays, I doubted my abilities. It wasn’t until I was an adult, when I played M’Lynn in Steel Magnolias, that I knew I had a knack for acting. I realized that I had enough life experiences from which to pull the various emotions needed to become a character. The freedom that comes from wearing someone else’s skin was intoxicating to me.



How did your family react?

The first time my husband and most of the rest of my family saw me act on stage was during the run of Steel Magnolias.  A friend in the audience leaned over to my husband and said, “I didn’t know Laura Beth could act!” My husband’s eyes got wide as he considered all the implications and he replied, “I didn’t either!!”  We still laugh about that to this day. 

My family has been very supportive. And when they tell me that they didn’t see me in a role, but only saw the character, then I know I have succeeded.


Do you have a Muse or a Role Model?

I don’t have a particular muse, but I do admire the work of Meryl Streep, Debra Winger, and Renee Zellweger. I wish could be as funny as Steve Martin. 


Who's your biggest fan?

While I have to say my husband loves me the most, it’s my siblings and my aunt who get the most excited about my acting gigs. I’ve worked with a few other actors and directors who have been really encouraging, 

too.



What brings you inspiration the most?

I get most inspired by the characterization in a script or screenplay. I love people. I love humans and all the messiness that is humanity. When a writer is able to depict through dialogue a complete and believable person, that inspires me. Tennessee Williams was a master at this, and I have learned a lot about the emotions that motivate my own behavior by playing some of his characters. When I am in the process of becoming a character, I think a lot about her motivations. If no back story is given, I will create my own so that the character is a complete person with a history and goals.



Which actor or director would you like to work with?

Robin Williams is my all-time favorite actor and I would have loved to work with him. Steven Speilberg’s creativity is genius and I hear he is a nice guy too. Mostly, I just like to work!



Have you ever seen a film that was better than the book?

Is it even possible for a film to be better than a book? The films that play in my head when I read a novel are always pretty amazing! Nevertheless, there are many terrific adaptations out there. I was especially impressed with Like Water for Chocolate. I loved that book and I was amazed at how the film adaptation stayed true to the fantastical element without getting cheesy.



What's the movie that taught you the most?

This a difficult question to answer. Some films are timely and have spoken to my current personal situation. I am so grateful that I saw The War of the Roses at the perfect time in my life. I had been dating a guy for five years. When I saw how Kathleen Turner reacted to the news that her husband was dying, I saw my future. That film encouraged me to make a course correction that has greatly improved my life! I’m sure it saved me a great deal of heartache.

Some films teach timeless truths. Babe, Schindler’s List, Good Will Hunting, The Fisher King all had good lessons about perseverance and the conquering power of love. There’s even a line from one of the Star Wars that I say to myself sometimes. I’m paraphrasing, but Luke Skywalker says something like this: we don’t fight against what we hate, we fight for what we love. That idea can apply to many areas of our lives.



About your artistic career, have you ever had the desire to quit everything?

The focus of my artistic career has changed from time to time, as have my priorities, but I’m sure I will always be excited about the next opportunity.



On set what excites you the most?

I get most excited about becoming my character and interacting with the other actors and the drama that we create together. I love when everyone is really in sync with their roles and something amazing happens. I love to be able to depict real life in a way that is sometimes even more clear, more distilled, than real life.


And what scares you the most?

When the exact opposite happens. When there is no chemistry or the other actors are unprepared, and give me nothing to interact with.  I have to imagine what they should be giving me and work with that instead. 

To me, that is pretending instead of acting.



What's your next project?

I hope to work with Randy Skinner on a film about an impoverished track star who overcomes lots of obstacles on her way to success. I’m currently planning and choreographing a dance piece based on the book of Thessalonians.



You can steal the career of an artist you really admire, who do you choose?

If stealing someone’s career meant I am them and not myself, then forget it. But if I would love to have the breadth and depth of roles that Meryl Streep has had.



An actor/director/screenplayer is made of....

An actor is made of grit, patience, humor and self-awareness. Our job is to act as a microscope or a telescope, focusing our audience on some aspect of the human existence which might otherwise get lost in the busy-ness of life.


For you Cinema is....

For me, Cinema is storytelling. Storytelling has played an important role since the dawn of humanity. Stories help us define who we are and what we stand for. Stories are important for shared experiences within a community or people group. When you want to understand a culture, look to the folktales of that society. Even stories that are primarily meant to be entertaining have some level of instruction. Movies today not only reflect our culture, but also shape the direction in which we are going – which is a pretty heavy responsibility.



Do you think Black and white movies have a powerful impact?

Yes, color and the lack thereof can be an important tool for setting the tone in a movie. Black and white forces the viewer to see things differently. The director is able to better control the emphasis in a scene. Schindler’s List was masterfully done in black and white and I will never forget the impact of the one spot of color in that movie. Seeing the little red coat was heart-wrenching.



Have you ever dreamed of winning an Oscar?

Haven’t we all dreamed of winning an Oscar? Haven’t we all written an acceptance speech in our heads? I certainly did many years ago.



Do you think you're gonna win it?

At this point in my life I think it is highly unlikely, and I am very okay with that. 

I have made a positive difference in the lives of enough people in my world that I do not need a golden statue for validation. . . . .but I wouldn’t turn it down!!!

Patrick McNerney is a Houston-based filmmaker, director, producer, and editor with a creative background spanning music, radio, and film. He began his career as a lead guitarist in multiple signed bands, earning Top 40 and rock-format radio singles and nationwide CD distribution, and later produced music and voiceover for commercial radio. By age 20, McNerney had worked professionally in the radio and music industry. In 2012, he transitioned to film full-time, directing, producing, and editing multiple short films and web series. His latest short film, The Sanguine, is earning awards and laurels on the international film festival circuit.

Do you prefer Comedy or Drama?

I’m drawn to any genre that genuinely resonates with an audience. If the story is well written and emotionally honest, the format becomes secondary.

Life imitates Art or Art imitates Life?

Both feed each other. Life provides the raw material, but art distills it into something more focused—something that can be felt, remembered, and shared.

Which is the best Moment on set?

The best moments on set are the ones where you can feel the “lighting in the bottle.” You know the actors, choreography, lighting and camera work are all coming together perfectly to capture something magical.

Did anyone ever tell you weren't good enough?

I’m sure it’s happened, but I’ve never let outside opinions dictate my direction. I’m driven more by internal standards than external validation.

How can you stay focused on your goal?

Clear visualization and deliberate goal-setting. If you know what you’re building toward, distractions tend to fall away on their own.

Have you ever had a breakdown because of your Job?

No. Filmmaking is demanding, but losing perspective is counterproductive. Pressure is part of the process—you either learn to manage it or it manages you.

Talent is a blessing or a curse?

Talent is a blessing. The real curse is wasting it through complacency or fear.

What would you like to improve about yourself as an
actor/director/screenplayer?

Like most independent filmmakers, I’m always wishing for more time, more resources, and a larger crew. Learning how to maximize limitations while still elevating the work is an ongoing pursuit.

What's the worst critic you have received?

That something I wanted to create was not possible given the available resources. I think “The Sanguine” is a great example of a success in this category.

If you weren't an actor/director/screenplayer what would you like to be?

I’m already a business owner, and I genuinely enjoy it. Creativity isn’t limited to art—you can apply it to problem-solving, leadership, and building things that didn’t exist before.

If Cinema was a color what would it be?

Deep crimson—something rich, timeless, and capable of conveying both beauty and danger.

A day without a movie is...

Perfectly fine. But a day with a great movie can be unforgettable.

If someone offered you to play/direct/write in/a movie that you despice
but that for sure will make you rich and famous...would you accept the job?

No. If I’m not passionate about a project, I wouldn’t do it justice—and that wouldn’t be fair to the audience or the collaborators.

What's your greatest ambition?

To stay honest in my work and give my full effort to whatever I choose to create.

What's your biggest fear?

Knowing I could have done better and choosing not to. I strive to ensure that never happens.

Does music helps you to play/direct, write?

Absolutely. I was a full-time musician before film, and rhythm often comes first for me. Music usually shapes the emotional core of a project before the visuals are fully formed.

You have the chance to make a Silent movie, what's your message to the
audience?

That emotion doesn’t require dialogue. If the images are honest enough, the audience will understand everything that matters.

Share your speech if you should win an Oscar.....

I’d thank the collaborators who trusted me, the audience who gave the film their time, and the independent filmmakers who keep creating without permission. Stories survive because people refuse to stop telling them.

I directed short films produced in the late 1990s, some of which were broadcast in France and Great Britain (Channel 4). In the early 2000s, I worked for five years on a self-produced feature film, Odessa, which I unfortunately couldn't continue working on once it was finished. Subsequently, my work as a film professor and researcher took precedence over filmmaking, at least until the mid-2010s. Since 2016, I have directed three museum documentaries and four new short films: Lichen, The Great Nowhere, Metropole, and Under a Cloud, my most recent. The Great Nowhere and Metropole have received several awards at festivals and positive critical reception.

When did you decide you wanted to be an actor/director/screenwriter?

It's funny because I remember very well when and even where it happened. I was 17, in high school. I'd been a regular at the movies for several years. I kept the ticket from every film and wrote them all down in a notebook. One day, while we were in a history/geography class in a small lecture hall, I had this epiphany: I realized I loved cinema and that it would be my life.

How did your family react?

They weren't against it, but they wanted to rationalize my path. When I got my baccalaureate, I wasted two years studying hard sciences. It's worth noting that at that time, there weren't any film studies programs at the university level. After two years of failure, I made my mother understand that I needed to pursue an education that interested me in order to succeed. She understood perfectly, and everything fell into place after that.

Do you have a muse or a role model?

Today, without hesitation, David Lynch. For me, he is the greatest contemporary filmmaker. He is also a complete artist who practiced photography, painting, and music, and who managed to lead the life of an artist he had always dreamed of. I greatly admire his career, especially his early years when he never gave up. When you work for five years on a film (Eraserhead) in very precarious conditions without making the slightest compromise on your creative vision, I believe you deserve to make a living from your art.

Who is your biggest fan?

Confession: I'm my own biggest (secret) fan.

What inspires you the most?

In a way, everything is potentially a source of inspiration: everyday life, yourself, the world we live in. To be receptive to these vibes, all you have to do is put down your cell phone, lift your head and look around you, observe, listen, feel... Some ideas emerge "magically" without us understanding what triggered them, but we can also predispose ourselves to creation. You just have to avoid wanting to create at all costs.

Art is another source of inspiration.

Which actor or director would you like to work with?

Oh, there are too many, but let's say Scarlett Johansson and Ralph Fiennes for actors. I would also have loved to work with Gaspard Ulliel, who is sadly no longer with us… As for directors, Jonathan Glazer and Dario Argento, the maestro, for Italy. Or Antonioni, if he were still with us.

Have you ever seen a film better than the book?

The first one that comes to mind is Alfred Hitchcock's Rear Window, which is thematically much richer and far more compelling than the novella written by Cornell Woolrich.

Which film has taught you the most?

That's a difficult question because we're not always aware of what a film teaches us. I'll mention two, which are among my favorites and which helped sharpen my eye: Brian De Palma's Body Double and Paul Brickman's Risky Business, which continue to fascinate me.

Regarding your artistic career, have you ever wanted to give it all up?

It's crossed my mind sometimes, but never seriously, and perhaps not "all" in the sense that, whatever happens, I'll continue to create in one way or another.

On set, what excites you the most?

Working with the actors, when the final acting directions, the last exchanges shape and complete the performance. I love the quality of listening and the extreme concentration of that moment when the director and the actors become one.

And what scares you the most?

Insurmountable technical problems, particularly bad weather, missing a take for various reasons and not having the opportunity to improve it due to timing issues.

What is your next project?

I'd like to write and direct a feature film. I've started working on it.

You can steal the career of an artist you truly admire, but who would you choose?

I don't want to steal anything from anyone.

An actor/director/screenwriter is made of...

Doubts and moments of blissful optimism. You often swing between underestimating and overestimating your films. With time, you learn to see through both. The only key is hard work. You also need a bit of luck.

For you, cinema is…

…an alchemy of the arts, because it encompasses them all (literature, music, theater, decorative arts, sculpture, photography, painting…). Each filmmaker creates their own alchemy according to their natural inclination; some place more importance on the screenplay, others on the image, and so on. But we all work from the same heritage.

Do you think black and white films have a powerful impact?

I wish I could say yes because I love them, but I'm not so sure today. On the one hand, "heritage" cinema is becoming less and less visible (look at what's happening on streaming platforms), and on the other hand, I haven't yet seen a contemporary black and white film break box office records. But the aesthetics of black and white are sublime; it's important to preserve and promote them, just as it's vital to defend film stock. My second-to-last film was shot on Super 16 black and white. The image is simply incredible. Sometimes, digital technology just can't compete.

Have you ever dreamed of winning an Oscar?

Yes, but it's not the be-all and end-all. Besides, there are other awards (Palme d'Or, Golden Lion, etc.), and the greatest reward one can receive is being able to make a living from their work.

Do you think you'll win it?

Of course ;)