Philosophy

Life is a precarious dance on the edge of absurdity, a truth crystallized during my Ph.D. in Philosophy at Sussex. Steeped in existentialism and moral philosophy, I see existence as a fragile act of meaning-making amid chaos. We are all actors in a cosmic farce, wrestling with moral dilemmas, societal masks, and the specter of our own impermanence, yet finding fleeting moments of humor, love, and transcendence. This duality fuels my storytelling.

 

In The Trouble with Jessica, a British comedy of manners veils a darker meditation on guilt and privilege, exposing the absurdity of our social pretensions. Like the characters in The Hoarder, we cling to desires, fears, and identities, hoarding fragments of self in a world that defies coherence. To live authentically is to embrace this tension—to ask unanswerable questions and find meaning in the asking. My films are not resolutions but invitations to dwell in life’s contradictions, where the ridiculous and the profound collide.

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Characters are the fractured mirrors of our humanity, each a paradox shaped by the philosophical lens of Sartre and Nietzsche. They are not archetypes but dynamic selves, capable of heroism and pettiness, love and betrayal. In Kink, characters navigate desire and power, their moral boundaries stretched to breaking. In Piñata, supernatural horror amplifies inner demons, making the external a reflection of the internal.

 

My process begins with a question: What does this character crave, and what are they willing to sacrifice? This ethical inquiry drives their arcs, as seen in The Trouble with Jessica, where a disastrous dinner party unmasks vanity and desperation. I craft characters who feel real because they are contradictory—flawed, complex, and caught in the raw act of existing. They are not meant to be merely relatable but to challenge audiences to confront their own fragmented selves, to see the beauty and terror of being human.

Film is philosophy in motion, a medium uniquely suited to probe the depths of existence. It subverts, provokes, and holds a mirror to our souls.

 

The Last Horror Movie blurs the line between viewer and voyeur, implicating audiences in the violence they consume, while The Good Life uses satire to question our pursuit of happiness. Genres like comedy, horror, and sci-fi—evident in The God in the Machine—are my tools to explore absurdity, fear, and potential.

 

Film distills life’s chaos into visceral moments: a glance, a line, a haunting score. It makes the abstract tangible, turning questions of identity, morality, and existence into lived experiences. My work aims to unsettle and illuminate, inviting audiences to wrestle with what it means to be human in a world that often feels inhumane, to find truth not in answers but in the courage to question.       - JH