the things we left unsaid

a series of personal letters that remain unsent

The Things We Left Unsaid is a short film I made in which a series of isolated characters are interwoven in an edit and deliver heartfelt monologues.

I took a series of letters I had written over my life—whether handwritten or in the draft folder of my e-mail—that I had never sent and converted them into monologues to perform. What compelled me to write the letters in the first place and stop when I intended to send them is still unknown to me. Fear and second thoughts— that it was information only meant for me to know—whatever the reason, I did not send them. And so I thought deeply about what would have happened, where my life would have gone if I had said what was truly in my heart. Would those people still be in my life? Would it have made a difference? Now, I ask myself, were the letters indeed for them, or were they for me?

I made the film during the pandemic after we [in NY] were allowed to interact socially, granted that we were under very specific circumstances and took a few necessary steps. We were a small crew to ensure safety. My good friend Geoff Taylor, the DP, was kind enough to provide his talent and equipment, and we worked directly with a singular talent in each scene. Another good friend of mine, Ella Loudon, also acted in it, encouraging and supporting us emotionally and in production. As well, as other phenomenal actors that donated their time and their artistry. It was truly a labor of love.

We intended to keep it small, not just due to the circumstances but also because we had spent years on bigger sets and lost touch with the beauty and simplicity of our crafts. I wanted the purity of an exchange with an actor, without any distractions, to push them and myself as far as we could go—something that we don't often get on bigger sets with more money. Logistically and mentally, having a lot of money on the line, especially money that isn't my own, inevitably prioritizes making my day. Too many eyes, too many opinions, and too much pressure can take you out of it, and it can become anything other than the art. So, the intent was to return to square one and prove to ourselves that we didn't need all that to create. Maybe that environment was getting in the way of the work and our happiness. I say we, but I mean me.

Though there wasn't much to shoot, safety, scheduling, and the discovery process extended the timeline to six months. And truthfully, I didn't know exactly what it was going to be. I assumed at the time it would be a series of stand-alone monologues, but it became one short film cut together. I'd like to say it was intended the whole time, but the truth was, I found it tedious to have an audience listen to someone in a room by themselves for a good six minutes at a minimum. The monologues were very long once performed. I can never gauge what's on the page in terms of timing unless I time it out on a stopwatch. A lot about this process was not timed out. It was loose, which was its intent. So, I cut them together because the monologues alone failed. Because of this, a good amount of the text within each monologue got lost.

The short premiered on Directors Notes. I am incredibly grateful they gave me the platform to release this film because it was denied at every other platform/festival I submitted to, and it was a lot. I like to believe it's because I submitted it under the narrative submission instead of experimental, but I know that is something I told myself to protect my ego. Some things just don't take, and that is okay. It had its release, and over time, I have gotten a few kind notes from people who felt the writing was their own words. That, and the process alone, made it worth everything and more.

This leads me to the point of this series on Substack. I have but a few of these monologues done and made into a film. As mentioned before, much of the monologues' text got lost in the film's edit, and I'd like to share them in their entirety over time. It is also my hope that I will continue to convert letters into monologues as they come out and share, but also that it may be something that someone else finds and decides to do the same. Whether for catharsis or to connect.

One thing this project has made me feel is that, underneath it all, underneath the specifics of one's own experience, there is a shared human experience. I hope we share our letters, maybe not with the person they were intended for, but when it feels right, with others. To connect and, in turn, feel less alone.