Some tales unfold not with a bang, however with the echo of a bowling ball rolling down a waxed lane—regular, unpredictable, and brimming with hidden intention. On at the moment’s episode, we welcome a filmmaker whose journey is stitched along with sweat-soaked name sheets, cussed artistic grit, and a romance with storytelling that stretches again to a Sunglass Hut in Cincinnati. Jamie Buckner is a author, director, and manufacturing coordinator who took a easy concept—a romantic comedy set in a bowling alley—and reworked it right into a heartfelt indie movie with an uncanny twin identify.
What unfolds on this dialog is not only the story of a movie known as Split, however the soul of a storyteller who refused to let his artistic voice be muffled by the chaos of working behind the scenes on large Hollywood productions. Jamie shares how he stitched collectively moments between 14-hour workdays, late-night workplace hours, and limitless units to maintain rewriting, remodeling, and resurrecting the script for Split. “The creative muscle will atrophy if you don’t exercise it,” he says. In that second, you perceive that that is no unusual visitor; that is somebody for whom storytelling is oxygen.
His story reads like a contemporary parable for artists. From early days bouncing between goals of music, structure, and comedian books, Jamie landed on movie—not by plan, however by epiphany. He describes it superbly, realizing that each one his pursuits merged in filmmaking, the proper cocktail of drawing, sound, emotion, and motion. And thus started the pilgrimage: further work on Seabiscuit, gigs on War of the Worlds, and a life that saved knocking till the door opened simply sufficient to let the artist by.
But the magic, because it usually does, lived within the in-between. While others went to completely happy hour, Jamie stayed late within the workplace to put in writing. While his friends chased safety in crew roles, he wrestled with Kickstarter campaigns, coordinated sizzle reels (or “proof of concept” items, as he prefers), and requested himself the questions that each artistic should ask: “Will I do this until I’m sixty and just look back, or will I carve out the time now?” He selected the latter—and Split was born.
There’s one thing charming about how he talks of constructing “a cute little bowling movie,” whereas casually referencing that its quick movie starred future tv stars. It’s clear he walks each worlds with ease: the man who’s labored on John Wick 2, and the indie soul who nonetheless geeks out about native comedian outlets. He’s conscious of the absurdity too: that his movie shares its identify with M. Night Shyamalan’s thriller. He laughs about mistaken identities, mistaken downloads, and viewers confusion, however stands agency. “We were here first,” he says. And in that defiant simplicity lies the center of a creator.
Jamie’s strategy to artwork is like that of a Zen archer—disciplined however free, all the time aiming, by no means inflexible. He presents a quiet however potent form of knowledge, the sort that doesn’t shout however sticks with you. “If you’re not doing this because you love it, then you’re legitimately a crazy person,” he jokes. And but, one feels the profound fact in these phrases. In a world spinning quicker every day, the place even scripts get locked down like authorities secrets and techniques, Jamie reminds us that what issues is ending what you begin—and doing it with coronary heart.
Like an excellent movie, Jamie Buckner’s journey doesn’t resolve in neat traces. It’s ongoing, crammed with initiatives nonetheless to be written, scenes but to be shot, and audiences nonetheless to find the little film that might. But what stays with you shouldn’t be the resume or the identify confusion. It’s the voice behind the phrases, the love behind the lens. He’s not simply telling a narrative—he’s reminding you why tales matter.
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