Slate vs. Stack: Why I’m Developing Future Feature Lengths Like a Label

Signal Flare is my FilmStack experiment—part theory, part evolving practice.

And just like that, it hit me.

Film slate vs. FilmStack—what’s the difference?

A slate is a lineup. A plan. A list of projects you hope to get made.

But a stack? A stack is alive. One release deepens the next. It’s not a staircase—it’s a signal chain. Built like a record label: each drop shaping the next, each project holding a piece of the whole. It can be a short, a feature or a series. A game or even on stage.

That’s what I’m building: The Signal Flare FilmStack.

These aren’t hypothetical films. They’ve been imagined, sketched, and tested with a core team I’ve shaped through years of guerrilla filmmaking—and more recently, through Actors Tank my actor-driven lab where I build films with others from the ground up. We move fast, iterate hard, and generate real momentum.

The Tank gave me the chance to work with a stripped-down toolkit—and a new way of thinking that wasn’t reliant on the so-called “must-haves” to make a film from soup to nuts. It showed me how the barriers to filmmaking can (and should) be lowered. For creatives. For curious newcomers. For actors who don’t want to spend years chasing opportunities that rarely come. Actors Tank is about showing up and making films here, now and watching them together, the day after.

Signal Flare is the extension of that idea—a beta test and intentional experiment in building sustainable storyworlds, launching feature films, and creating space for others to participate. It’s not just a stack of films; it’s a proving ground for how to build and release cinematic works that are engaged with differently than what you find on global streaming platforms. It’s a step toward creative retaining autonomy, a point of view, and a more social, real-life way of making and experiencing film together.

---

If you're a fellow Brass Knuckle Warrior, let me know in the comment box below, follow me - so I can follow you.

Everyone else: Tell your friends about my label http://Filmstack.xyz

---

The Stack

These films are distinct—stylistically, structurally—but they run parallel. They aren’t a traditional trilogy. They’re independent threads within the same clear and present near-future: a storyworld where automation has outpaced accountability, and where the scaffolding of meaning—faith, work, family— that values that give each of our lives shape and meaning begin crumbling.

Intrustless
In the wake of a massive tech collapse—after a billion-dollar AI model is stolen and leaked onto the dark web—a team of trust designer is scapegoated and cast out by the very systems they helped build. Our leading character, made obsolete and forced into survival mode, she turns to sex work in Portland, OR—until the death of her estranged father leads her to an unexpected inheritance: ancestral Indigenous land, scarred by erasure long before the algorithms arrived.

Intrustless (Margin Call meets Nomadland) is an original story. It’s a haunting meditation on trust, displacement, and the quiet refusal to do—or not do—what everyone else is doing. Crafted with scrappy ingenuity and lean production tactics, the film is the kind of bold, resourceful project that, if Jason Blum is the only person who recognizes it, that’ll be good enough for me. He says, “With horror films, you just need a concept. The best horror comes from low budgets.” I’m not aiming to make a traditional horror film—but maybe a surreal version of one.

And by surreal, I don’t mean fantasy. I mean a kind of realism that’s slightly off. The world looks familiar, but something’s shifted. Emotions are sharper. Time feels loose. Silence carries weight. It’s grounded, but strange—just enough to make you question what’s real and what’s breaking. The horror here isn’t monsters or jump scares—it’s what’s quietly eroding beneath the surface. Blum also says: “What can you do for a little bit of money that has broad appeal?” Challenge excepted!

Drop Kill
A one-night survival thriller set in Portland. Five strangers endure a sudden drone assault that abducts and drops civilians to their deaths. The next morning, they wake to find the city emptied. No bodies. No broadcasts. Just heat, silence, and the echo of something much larger.

Culprits
A 120-page action drama I completed in January 2023. A former Army medic, scarred by war and personal loss, infiltrates a white supremacist militia after her fiancé is killed in a mass shooting. Her mission begins as vengeance—but evolves into a confrontation with systemic violence, media spectacle, and the dark machinery of hate.

Some characters may cross over. Most won’t. What connects these films isn’t plot—it’s pressure. The pressure of a world fraying at the seams. The tension of people trying to hold onto what makes them human as systems push them toward erasure.

That’s what Signal Flare is: a cinematic label grounded in resistance, myth, and genre.
A FilmStack built on resonance, not hierarchy.

---

Facing the Future, One Innovation at a Time.

I don’t have this fully fleshed out yet, but here’s a gut instinct I keep circling:

Filmmakers shouldn’t treat AI—or tools like Sora that generate video—as only a shortcut to crank out scripts or entire films. The opportunity is in how these tools can augment the process: fast-tracking development, pressure-testing ideas, expanding our visual grammar, or even just helping clarify what not to do. We’re still the storytellers. But with the exponential pace of AI, we’ve got to stay curious. It’s no-doubt, the tool of the century.

Being a Luddite about AI? That’s cool—do you - cause, we need you too. I’ll be the first to admit: nobody knows anything about what’s actually going to happen in the AI space, or what’s going to stick around from one day to the next. One scenario I’m willing to wager bucks on, there will be an Oscar nominated film made by Gen Alphas out of garage in less than 10 years.

One direction where mainstream could be heading? AI-powered face-swapping. Personalized generative video.

Five years ago, I tested a tool that dropped my face into the middle of an action sequence. Suddenly, I wasn’t watching Indiana Jones—I was Harrison Ford in the role. It was clunky, but also kind of mind-blowing. It pointed toward a future where audiences don’t just observe the story—they appear in it.

Now imagine that same tech applied to the next Tom Cruise film. You sit down in a theater, put on what look like basic 3D glasses—but they’re smart. Instantly, you’re in the lead role. Your date? Supporting character. The movie plays out, but it’s you up there. A personalized blockbuster.

How is that not going to be a massive market? It’s a new way to reboot legacy properties, sell tokens, offer collectibles, even keepsakes tied to your unique version of the story. A fan-driven remix economy—cinematic experience is rebooted and we can finally do away with the damn food menu.

Another direction? Hyper-local filmworks that feel so damn familiar the viewer recognizes the diner, the thrift shop, the neighborhood character everyone knows by name. Films that belong to a place—and to the people in it. Personal in an entirely different way. It’s equivalence of setting the next Grand Thief Auto experience right in your hood. Who wouldn’t pick that over Liberty City? More importantly, it enables hyper-local product and service placement that reflects—and resonates with—your actual community.

And another? Community-owned equity models. What happens when your biggest fans don’t just support your work—they own a piece of it? Imagine offering fair, smart equity splits on your film to the people who actually care about it and completely bypassing the middlemen. This isn’t theory, this is happening right now. I’m a Warrior in Robert Rodriguez’s Brass Knuckle Films.

Nope - most of this is not some far-off dream. It’s one more way to democratize the making of movies—by turning passive audiences into active partners. That’s already happening in Web3 spaces. It’s happening right on this very platform you’re reading this post on. Which reminds me:

Hardware Maniacs aren’t usually storytellers—but they’re essential to the team. Let’s be real: with nearly any product DJI makes today—drones, mics, pocket cameras—the gear playing field has been leveled. You can create near-professional-grade filmworks using consumer tools. The tech is there. The stories are ready.

Oi!—there’s nothing in your way. You can make any damn film you want, tell it in a way no one else can, and beam it out to the world. It’s an incredible time to be a filmmaker. The problem is, you’re not the only one who can do this.

All these AI innovations I mentioned—I’m not necessarily using any/all of them in my filmworks planning process at this time. I’m just keeping those strategies in play, running quietly in the back of my mind as I pound away in a corner, building my stack of films.

The only questions for you are:
Do you have the idea? Is it better to do it alone or with a team?
And do you know the incremental steps to turn that idea into something some of us have ever seen before?

Because if you do, then you don’t need permission. You just need to start stacking.

---

If you are curious about being part of a community already organized, consider joining a future Actors Tank session. DM for more details: superdreamindie@gmail.com

---

What It Means to Build Films in a Non-Dependent Way

Adapted from some of the thoughts and writings of

Ted Hope

• Don’t wait for permission.
  Make films with the resources you can access now—not the fantasy budget someone might greenlight someday.

• Design for sustainability.
  Create a body of work that strengthens your team, deepens your audience, and sharpens your process with every project.

• Make systems, not one-offs.
  Each film should leave behind tools, relationships, insights, and emotional equity that help build the next.

• Audience is part of the stack.
  Films aren’t just made for viewers—they’re made with them in mind. Each project builds a deeper loop of engagement.

• Build with community, not dependence.
  A resilient creative ecosystem doesn’t rely on gatekeepers. It runs on relationships, trust, and shared stakes.

• Know the difference between growth and escalation.
  Scaling up doesn’t mean bloating. Let your films grow in depth and clarity—not just in budget.

• Use constraints as accelerants.
  Limitations aren’t setbacks—they’re creative parameters. They force cohesion, clarity, and innovation.

• Focus on ownership.
  Retain creative and economic control where possible. Revenue, rights, and reuse should benefit the makers, not middlemen.

• Stay agile.
  A nimble team can pivot, evolve, and respond faster than any industrial machine. That’s your edge—protect it.