What was the moment when you knew The Butchers had to be your first project as a writer and director, not just as an actor?
I had multiple other scripts that I was deciding between, that potentially had more poignant timely messages about life and society, but I ultimately chose The Butchers, because I wanted to present my team with a blank canvas to create boldly. As a first time director, I felt that my strongest offering was a project where my more experienced team could really play and try new things with their work. The Butchers felt the most like me, a culmination of my favourite inspirations in film, an original story that no one was asking for, juxtaposition between extreme violence and comedy, but most of all, fun. Movies are meant to entertain, to be an exhilarating break from reality, and that’s what I wanted to create. That’s why I knew I had to make The Butchers.
After more than a decade working on major productions, how did stepping behind the camera change the way you understand performance and storytelling?
It really taught me that performance is just a cog in a much greater machine. It simplified the role of a performance and made me realize that the weight of the film doesn’t rest on the actor, even though we can sometimes be so self consumed to think so. It’s taken the pressure off of performance, and allowed me to appreciate the bubble of simply living the life in the moments between action and cut, and decluttering the thoughts of everything else happening around me. Very little actually has to do with me when I’m acting.
The film balances extreme violence with dark humor and emotional sincerity. How did you find the right tonal line so the comedy never undercut the humanity of the characters?
I think I achieved this through allowing my characters to be honest in their emotions, regardless of the immediacy of their situation. The stakes are high the whole film and we’re dealing with monstrous violent people, but they still have feelings. I let them express themselves the way any normal person might in a stressful situation, and coddle each other the way a healthy loving relationship would. I treated them like regular people with a stressful job, and let the comedy naturally come out of the absurdity of normalizing psychopaths.
Steve and Morgan share a bond that feels both disturbing and strangely intimate. What interested you in exploring loyalty and connection between characters who are morally monstrous?
I believe it’s interesting to explore the idea that monsters could be so much more like the rest of us than we think. It’s scary and a little funny in the context of a fiction, to examine their feelings of inadequacy, their fears of being alone, or the genuine joy they get from violence. I wanted to create character relationships that felt relatable and even loveable, and my hope is that by the end of the film, the audience forgets they’re rooting for the bad guys.
You play Steve, a tightly wound strategist, while also directing the entire film. How challenging was it to switch between acting and directing in such an intense story?
It was challenging for sure, but luckily I had an amazing team that I whole heartedly trusted my vision with. I think the thing that worked best was that I made sure someone was in place, my AD or DP, but mostly my producing partner, Conni Miu, that knew exactly what I wanted and was watching the frame when I couldn’t. I trusted that if they felt I needed to watch a take, we’d pause and I’d watch, but if they said we’re good to move on, then we moved on. It was important to me that everyone on my set felt like they had a voice, and could filter their opinions through me, especially because my mind was in so many different places. Because of that kind of environment, I felt confident to commit fully to the scene when I was acting, knowing that my team would take care of the rest.
The idea of forgetting the body is absurd but terrifying at the same time. Why did that single mistake feel like the perfect engine to drive the entire narrative?
It felt like the simplest and dumbest thing to go wrong, with the largest impact to their lives completely unravelling. It also has this implication that if they’re the ones with the butchery meats, who has the box of body parts? This one little mistake traps them into thinking that even if they get out of this situation, it doesn’t matter, because they’ve let themselves get exposed for their crimes. It was also important to then physically trap them in an apartment in the middle of the city, far from home and solutions, because now they find themselves in what feels like a prison with no escape. Because of this mistake, the film is able to find a unique form of justice for these psychos.
You have cited filmmakers like Martin McDonagh, Edgar Wright, and Quentin Tarantino as influences. How did you absorb their sensibilities while still protecting your own voice?
I think in the same way anyone would absorb anything in the natural world. There’s things that we see that give meaning to our lives, and we begin to adopt them or reflect on them subconsciously. I was introduced to these filmmakers when I was younger, watching their movies for the love of them. I wasn’t thinking about replicating anything, I just loved what I was looking at, it made me happy. I think over time, that’s influenced the way I see the world and what I like to see in movies. I don’t feel like I have to grip onto it so tight and try to recreate anything, like all my influences, they’re just a part of who I am now.
Winning the Outstanding Cast Award at the Sherman Oaks Film Festival was an early recognition. What did that validation mean to you at this stage of your filmmaking journey?
First and foremost, it validated all of the work that I’ve done to train as an actor. Going into this project, I told myself that if I was to get one thing right, it better be the acting, so to win an Outstanding Cast Award tells me that I achieved one of my biggest goals and reaffirms the strength in my work as an actor. As a filmmaker, I’m so grateful to the Sherman Oaks Film Festival for this recognition. To premiere in LA and win an award in the home of movies, feels like another inspirational sign that I’m meant work in the film industry, and that there’s a place for me in Hollywood.
The film raises uncomfortable questions about morality and empathy. What do you hope audiences sit with after the credits roll?
My hope is that even though this film is a fun ride, that in the end, the audience is reminded in a very real way that living a life like Steve and Morgan ends in the gutter. These characters do not win and they are not rewarded for their actions. I hope that the final image is a sobering one, and that it feels more grounded in reality compared to the absurd heightened reality that precedes it.
With The Butchers opening the door to your future behind the camera and a feature film already in development, how do you see this short redefining your creative path going forward?
I feel a stronger ownership of what I am as an actor and filmmaker. This short has inspired me to be more vulnerable in my work, and to take what’s in my head and be fearless in putting it on screen. I’m a multi-hyphenate artist now, and I’ll continue to make my own movies, while pursuing success as an actor. My next film, ‘By Design’, is a sci-fi thriller that takes place in a near future decimated by a toxic event, where natural birth has been outlawed, women face total sterilization, and the only way to have a child is through an ectogenetic machine, controlled by the government through a rigorous interview process. Stay tuned!
