"There are decades where nothing happens; and there are weeks where decades happen." -Vladimir Ilyich Lenin
Becoming a successful filmmaker has felt like an absurdly unimportant goal for the past six months. The George Floyd Uprisings, a global pandemic, the terror and open corruption of the Trump administration- it's all come to a head. The world has been slowly burning down for the past four years but now, it feels like a full-fledged blaze. I've seen comparisons to the late 60's in America. While that's probably a close comparison, I still find it hard to imagine that many people thought they'd reach a point in our lifespans where the phrase "chaos reigns" would feel accurate. Simply surviving this period of history feels like it would be an achievement. The experiences many of us have this year will ripple out over the coming decades, for better and for worse.
In the context of all of this, my work feels small and unimportant. I want to make small movies about people learning to handle their emotions and becoming apart of a community. The kind of movie that gives you a nice cathartic ending you can cry over and feel good about before going about your daily life. That's a tough thing to think about when there's barely even a daily life to be enjoyed. I've always valued the theatrical experience and hoped that one day my films might play on those screens, but I'm beginning to have serious doubts as to whether theaters will even exist in five years. Which, on top of everything else, feels like the absolute least of our worries. We're approaching 200,000 dead, our elections are threatened, and the feds are literally snatching protestors off the street. The world feels, for lack of a better term, completely fucked. Having dreams is hard when you're wondering if your weekly trip to the grocery store means risking your health and the health of everyone in your immediate vicinity.
As I write this, I am preparing to return home to Seattle. It's a decision I've contemplated for a long time. I have lived in Los Angeles for three mostly-excellent years. It's a wonderful city with endless possibilities and a spirit of hustle and entrepreneurship that I admire a great deal. I will always count moving here as one of the best decisions I've ever made. It's taught me a great deal about myself, my dreams, my work ethic, and my work as a writer and filmmaker. It's a city that never lets you forget your place in the grand scheme of the film industry, but by virtue of its endless appetite for new voices, always allows you to make your case. It is unforgiving in the way that people in old movies describe cities to be, yet inspiring in how it often exists in confusingly-zoned, remarkably resilient pockets of humanity. I have met some of my closest friends and collaborators here. I have learned more about film as an art form and a business than I ever would have expected. Los Angeles contains a proximity and an immediacy that is unmatched by anywhere else I have been. Like all experiences, it is what you make of it. I have nothing but kind things to say about living here. I will miss it.
Seattle is home, though, and I am excited to continue my journey there. I realize "no-name filmmaker moves home" isn't exactly a great headline, but it is a genuine thrill for me to know I will be returning to the city I hold so dear in my heart. I recognize that all is not normal- I will be returning to a city much different from the one I left. But it is hard to disentangle the many strains of my personal identity that are rooted there. There are so many stories I want to tell there too. The Seattle film scene consists of so many skilled, exceptional artists and I couldn't be more thrilled to rejoin them. Whenever the time comes when we are able to safely, comfortably return to making films, television, and art for public consumption, I will be ready with scripts in hand.
I recognize how fortunate I am to be able to make a decision like this, especially right now. The world is a mess right now. The old world is gone and it is not coming back. This is a new normal for better and for worse. Recovering and adjusting, whenever that process is allowed to begin, will take a long time. But just because the world is off its axis does not mean the dream is over. The dream pauses as everything does right now. We hover in place and wait for the time in which we are able to move forward. And whenever that time is, I will be ready.
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