The Long Road of Outsiders
When I first sat down in a Los Feliz coffee shop in 2014, the Californian sun warming my laptop, I thought I was just starting another screenplay. In reality, I was beginning a journey that would consume years of my life and test every ounce of my determination. Outsiders wasn’t just a film idea—it was my fear, my fascination with isolation, my paranoia written into a story about two people lost in the woods with nothing but themselves and the shadows watching them.
It started as something completely different—an alien invasion concept. But with each rewrite, each false start, the script kept pulling me toward something more human, more psychological. By the time I finished a version I liked, it was only sixty pages long. “Not enough for a feature,” they said. But I didn’t care. I wasn’t chasing page counts—I was chasing a dream. And my inner voice told me that my fear of camping alone in the middle of nowhere was far scarier than any spaceship could ever be.
In Los Angeles, I thought opportunity would knock as soon as I finished writing. I imagined producers lining up, waiting for my script. Instead, I found myself broke, writing late at night in a noisy apartment by the 101 freeway, working shifts just to keep myself afloat.
A year went by, and my film still wasn’t moving forward. I had meetings that led nowhere and heard plenty of false promises that only seemed to slow me down. For some reason, it felt almost impossible to get this project off the ground. Eventually, I realized I needed to go to Europe to make it happen. So, I packed my bags, hopped on a plane to London, and took a job in a restaurant to support myself while dedicating every free moment I had to the film. Casting rooms were borrowed, locations were scouted on long train rides, and sound gear was reduced to a taped-on microphone. It was madness. But it was also pure cinema—the kind where passion substitutes for resources, and every mistake becomes a story you’ll tell later with a smile. There were playful moments too. You can check out my full production notes here.
There were also moments of heartbreak. Cancelled auditions with eighty actors waiting outside because the studio lost my reservation. Long nights wondering if I’d ever finish the film. And then the biggest heartbreak of all: returning to Los Angeles, opening the hard drives, and realizing two-thirds of the footage was gone. Just like that, the feature I had fought for became a ghost. I cut what I had into a short film, but it wasn’t Outsiders. Not the way I saw it, not the way it lived in my head.
A Film That Refuses to Die
Some projects let you move on. Outsiders never did. For years, it haunted me. Every time I wrapped another film, every time I thought I’d buried it, it whispered back: you owe me. I carried that weight until finally, almost a decade later, I decided to face it again. This time not as a rookie filmmaker scrambling to survive, but as a director who had scars, experience, and the perspective to do it right.
And so I reshot the film. The same heart, the same fears, the same intimacy—but sharper, bolder, stronger. I finally had the cast, the vision, and the control to capture what Outsiders was always meant to be: a psychological thriller about fear, paranoia and trust, reality and delusion.
This time, there were no missing files, no excuses, no “maybe next time.” This time, it was done.
The Finished Film
Today, I can say the film that once broke me is alive. Starring: Natasha Perry, William Wilson. Outsiders is complete. It’s a story that started with fear, survived failure, and now stands as a reminder of why we do this in the first place. Because cinema isn’t about how much money you raise or how big your crew is—it’s about refusing to give up when everything tells you to.
And if there’s one thing I hope you take from this story, it’s this: no failure is final. If a film refuses to die, maybe it’s because it’s waiting for you to be ready.
You can now watch the completed film here: Outsiders – Official Page