The work between the work.
Between client decks and case studies, I write screenplays, shoot film, draw comic books, and occasionally make things no one asked for. This is where that lives.
Theater kid turned creative director. Still can't pick just one medium.
At 762 W. 67th Street, the characters are not in short supply, but community and understanding are clearly lacking.
When a new landlord purchases this small prewar building, the tenants must decide what matters most. This is a story about healing through chosen family, about how even the most isolated among us deserve compassion and love.
In an aging Upper West Side apartment building, a diverse group of tenants facing their own struggles are forced to confront their differences when a new landlord arrives, discovering the power of empathy to bridge their misunderstandings and create a chosen family.
Red hair, workaholic. Just discovered she has cancer but won't face it. Moved in to assess renovations but barely talks to anyone.
Jerry, 87. Widower. Retired engineer with a model train set that fills his days. Worried the new landlord will tear it all down.
Felicity, 50s. NYU psychology professor. Husband always in Tokyo. Having an affair with Jared downstairs. Pretends not to care about anything.
56. Former sitcom star living off 90s residuals. Cynical, unkempt. Won't admit he's falling for Mrs. Realings.
Pregnant. 10 years in the building. She works from home, he works two jobs after IVF drained savings. Terrified of raising a newborn in a construction zone.
Married. Run an activewear company from their apartment. 4 cats. Want to start a family but can't afford another round of IVF.
A crisp fall morning. The camera pans down 67th Street, catching vignettes of life before settling on 762, a prewar brownstone two doors from a construction site. We meet our characters through their habits, their spaces, their silences.
Walls come down, the introductory ones. Affairs surface. Nora hides a cancer diagnosis. Everyone has an opinion on what should happen to the building, what they'd do with buyout money. The cracks show.
The tenant meeting erupts. Nora doesn't show. Secrets explode, affairs exposed, Edgar walks in mid-fight from Tokyo. Then someone asks: Where's Mr. Shaner? No one has seen him in days. They break down his door.
Hospital waiting room. Apologies. Real conversations. Wendy carries guilt for forgetting to check on Mr. Shaner. Edgar offers Alice a job. Mrs. Realings sits with Mr. Shaner and remembers how he and Laura helped raise her kids.
Jared finds Nora alone in a hospital bed down the hall. They talk about cancer, about his dad, about that one movie she loved him in. No major construction. Just repairs. The final image: three tables pushed together in Alice and Wendy's apartment. A newborn. A new door. The old address numbers, polished and rehung.
The Front Door
The heavy front door of 762 connects every character. They all deal with different keys, the stubborn weight of it, how it falls back on them, the sound it makes when someone slams it.
It symbolizes connection when someone holds it for a neighbor, or disconnection when they rush through to avoid conversation. In the end, the landlord replaces it. Jared rehangs the polished old address numbers.
