To this day, Jaws remains the best example of Steven Spielberg‘s genius as a filmmaker. He somehow took a middling pulp novel about a killer shark and turned it into a thrilling adventure about masculinity and economic desperation. And to the surprise of no one, the massive success of Jaws spawned a lot of knockoffs, a glut of movies about animals terrorizing communities. None of these reach the majesty of Jaws, of course. But here’s the thing—none of them had to be Jaws. Sure, it’s nice that Spielberg’s film has impeccably designed set pieces and compelling characters, but that’s not the main reason people go to animal attack movies. We really just want to watch people get attacked. And eaten. With such standards duly lowered, let’s take a look at the best animal attack movies that came out in the past half-century since Jaws first scared us out of the water. Of course this list doesn’t cover every movie inspired by Jaws ( for example Godzilla Minus One, which devotes its middle act to a wonderful Jaws riff), and some can argue that these movies were less inspired by Jaws than other nature revolts features, such as Alfred Hitchcock‘s The Birds. But every one of these flicks owes a debt to Jaws, either in inspiration or simply getting people interested in movies about animals eating people. Those warning aside, lets make like drunken revelers on Amity Island and dive right in! 20. Sharknado (2013) Sharknado almost doesn’t belong on this list because it’s less a movie and more of a meme, a precursor to Vines and TikTok trends. Yes, many fantastic movies have been made off of an incredibly high concept and a painfully low budget. Heck, that approach made Roger Corman’s career. But Sharknado‘s high concept—a tornado sweeps over the ocean and launches ravenous sharks into the mainland—comes with a self-satisfied smirk. Somehow, Sharknado managed to capture the imagination of the public, making it popular enough to launch five sequels. At the time, viewers defended it as a so bad it’s good-style movie like The Room. But today Sharknado‘s obvious attempts to be wacky are just bad, making the franchise one more embarrassing trend, ready to be forgotten. 19. Orca (1977) For a long time, Orca had a reputation for being the most obvious Jaws ripoff, and with good reason—Italian producer Dino De Laurentiis, who would go on to support Flash Gordon, Manhunter, and truly launch David Lynch‘s career with Blue Velvet, wanted his own version of the Spielberg hit. On paper he had all the right ingredients, including a great cast with Richard Harris and Charlotte Rampling, and another oceanic threat, this time a killer whale. Orca boasts some impressive underwater cinematography, something that even Jaws largely lacks. But that’s the one thing Orca does better than Jaws. Everything else—character-building, suspense and scare scenes, basic plotting and storytelling—is done in such a haphazard manner that Orca plays more like an early mockbuster from the Asylum production company (makers of Sharknado) than it does a product from a future Hollywood player. 18. Tentacles (1977) Another Italian cheapie riding off the success of Jaws, Tentacles at least manages to be fun in its ineptitude. A giant octopus feature, Tentacles is directed by Ovidio G. Assonitis, a man whose greatest claim to fame is that he annoyed first-time director James Cameron so much on Piranha II: The Spawning that he activated the future legend’s infamous refusal to compromise with studios and producers. Tentacles somehow has a pretty impressive cast, including John Huston, Shelly Winters, and Henry Fonda all picking up paychecks. None of them really do any hard work in Tentacles, but there’s something fun about watching these greats shake the the octopus limbs that are supposed to be attacking them, as if they’re in an Ed Wood picture. 17. Kingdom of the Spiders (1977) Spielberg famously couldn’t get his mechanical shark to work, a happy accident that he overcame with incredibly tense scenes that merely suggested the monster’s presence. For his arachnids on the forgotten movie Kingdom of the Spiders, director John “Bud” Cardos has an even more formative tool to make up for the lack of effects magic: William Shatner. Shatner plays Rack Hansen, a veterinarian who discovers that the overuse of pesticides has killed off smaller insects and forced the tarantula population to seek larger prey, including humans. These types of ecological messages are common among creature features of the late ’70s, and they usually clang with hollow self-righteousness. But in Kingdom of the Spiders, Shatner delivers his lines with such blown out conviction that we enjoy his bluster, even if we don’t quite buy it. 16. The Meg (2018) The idea of Jason Statham fighting a giant prehistoric shark is an idea so awesome, it’s shocking that his character from Spy didn’t already pitch it. And The Meg certainly does deliver when Statham’s character does commit to battle with the creature in the movie’s climax. The problem is that moment of absurd heroism comes only after a lot of long sappy nonsense. Join our mailing list Get the best of Den of Geek delivered right to your inbox! It’s hard to figure out who is to blame for The Meg‘s failure. Director Jon Turteltaub hails from well-remembered Disney classics Cool Runnings and National Treasure. But too often he forgets how to pace an adventure film and gives into his most saccharine instincts here. One of the many Chinese/Hollywood co-produced blockbusters of the 2010s, The Meg also suffers from trying to innocuously please too wide an audience. Whatever the source, The Meg only fleetingly delivers on the promise of big time peril, wasting too much time on thin character beats. 15. Lake Placid (1999) I know already some people reading this are taking exception to Lake Placid‘s low ranking, complaining that this list isn’t showing enough respect to what they consider a zippy, irreverent take on a creature feature, one written by Ally McBeal creator David E. Kelley and co-starring Betty White. To those people, I can only say, “Please rewatch Lake Placid and then consider its ranking.” Lake Placid certainly has its fun moments, helped along by White as a kindly grandmother who keeps feeding a giant croc, Bill Pullman as a dumbfounded simple sheriff, and Oliver Platt as a rich adventurer. Their various one-liners are a pleasure to remember. But within the context of a movie stuffed with late ’90s irony, the constant snark gets tiresome, sapping out all the fun of a killer crocodile film. 14. Open Water (2003) Like Sharknado, Open Water had its fans for a few years but has fallen in most moviegoers’ esteem. Unlike Sharknado, Open Water is a real movie, just one that can’t sustain its premise for its entire runtime. Writer and director Chris Kentis draws inspiration from a real-life story about a husband and wife who were accidentally abandoned in the middle of the ocean by their scuba excursion group. The same thing happens to the movie’s Susan Watkins (Blanchard Ryan) and Daniel Travis (Daniel Kintner), who respond to their predicament by airing out their relationship grievances, even as sharks start to surround them. Kentis commits to the reality of the couple’s bleak situation, which sets Open Water apart from the thrill-a-minute movies that mostly make up this list. But even with some shocking set pieces, Open Water feels too much like being stuck in car with a couple who hates each other and not enough like a shark attack thriller. 13. Eaten Alive (1976) Spielberg’s artful execution of Jaws led many of the filmmakers who followed to attempt some semblance of character development and prestige, even if done without enthusiasm (see: Orca). Not so with Tobe Hooper, who followed up the genre-defining The Texas Chainsaw Massacre with Eaten Alive. Then again, Hooper draws just as much from Psycho as he does Jaws. Neville Brand plays Judd, the proprietor of a sleazy hotel on the bayou where slimy yokels do horrible things to one another. Amity Island, this is not. But when one of the visitors annoy Judd, he feeds them to the pet croc kept in the back. Eaten Alive is a nasty bit of work, but like most of Hooper’s oeuvre, it’s a lot of fun. 12. Prophecy (1979) Directed by John Frankenheimer of The Manchurian Candidate and Grand Prix fame, Prophecy is easily the best of the more high-minded animal attack movies that followed Jaws. This landlocked film, written by David Seltzer, stars Robert Foxworth as Dr. Robert Verne, a veterinarian hired by the EPA to investigate bear attacks against loggers on a mountain in Maine. Along with his wife Maggie (Talia Shire), Verne finds himself thrown into a conflict between the mining company and the local Indigenous population who resist them. Prophecy drips with an American hippy mentality that reads as pretty conservative today (“your body, your choice” one of Maggie’s friends tells her… to urge her against getting an abortion), making its depictions of Native people, including the leader played by Italian American actor Armand Assante, pretty embarrassing. But there is a mutant bear on the loose and Frankenheimer knows how to stage an exciting sequence, which makes Prophecy a worthwhile watch. 11. Piranha 3D (2010) Piranha 3D begins with a denim-wearing fisherman named Matt, played by Richard Dreyfuss no less, falling into the water and immediately getting devoured by the titular flesh-eaters. This weird nod to Matt Hooper and Jaws instead of Joe Dante’s Piranha, the movie Piranha 3D is supposed to be remaking, is just one of the many oddities at play yhere. Screenwriters Pete Goldfinger and Josh Stolberg have some of the wacky energy and social satire of the original film, but director Alexandre Aja, a veteran of the French Extreme movement, includes so much nastiness in Piranha 3D that we’re not sure if we want to laugh or throw up. Still, there’s no denying the power of Piranha 3D‘s set pieces, including a shocking sequence in which the titular beasties attack an MTV/Girls Gone Wild Spring Break party and chaos ensues. Furthermore, Piranha 3D benefits from a strong cast, which includes Elizabeth Shue, Adam Scott, and Ving Rhames. 10. Anaconda (1997) With its many scenes involving an animal attacking a ragtag group on a boat, Anaconda clearly owes a debt to Jaws. However, with its corny characters and shoddy late ’90s CGI, Anaconda feels today less like a Jaws knockoff and more like a forerunner to Sharknado and the boom of lazy Syfy and Redbox horror movies that followed. Whatever its influences and legacy, there’s no denying that Anaconda is, itself, a pretty fun movie. Giant snakes make for good movie monsters, and the special effects have become dated in a way that feels charming. Moreover, Anaconda boasts a enjoyably unlikely cast, including Eric Stoltz as a scientist, Owen Wilson and Ice Cube as members of a documentary crew, and Jon Voight as what might be the most unhinged character of his career, second only to his crossbow enthusiast from Megalopolis. 9. The Shallows (2016) The Shallows isn’t the highest-ranking shark attack movie on this list but it’s definitely the most frightening shark attack thriller since Jaws. That’s high praise, indeed, but The Shallows benefits from a lean and mean premise and clear direction by Jaume Collet-Serra, who has made some solid modern thrillers. The Shallows focuses almost entirely on med student Nancy Adams (Blake Lively), who gets caught far from shore after the tide comes in and is hunted by a shark. A lot of the pleasure of The Shallows comes from seeing how Collet-Serra and screenwriter Anthony Jaswinski avoid the problems that plague many of the movies on this list. Adams is an incredibly competent character, and we pull for her even after the mistake that leaves her stranded. Moreover, The Shallows perfectly balances thrill sequences with character moments, making for one of the more well-rounded creature features of the past decade. 8. Razorback (1984) Jaws, of course, has a fantastic opening scene, a thrilling sequence in which the shark kills a drunken skinny dipper. Of the movies on this list, only Razorback comes close to matching the original’s power, and it does so because director Russell Mulcahy, who would make Highlander next, goes for glossy absurdity. In the Razorback‘s first three minutes, a hulking wild boar smashes through the rural home of an elderly man in the Australian outback, carrying away his young grandson. Over the sounds of a synth score, the old man stumbles away from his now-burning house, screaming up into the sky. Sadly, the rest of Razorback cannot top that moment. Mulcahy directs the picture with lots of glossy style, while retaining the grit of the Australian New Wave movement. But budget restrictions keep the titular beast from really looking as cool as one would hope, and the movie’s loud, crazy tone can’t rely on Jaws-like power of suggestion. 7. Crawl (2019) Alexandre Aja’s second movie on this list earns its high rank precisely because it does away with the tonal inconsistencies that plagued Piranha 3D and leans into what the French filmmaker does so well: slicked down and mean horror. Set in the middle of a Florida hurricane, Crawl stars Kaya Scodelario as competitive swimmer Haley and always-welcome character actor Barry Pepper as her father Dave, who get trapped in a flooding basement that’s menaced by alligators. Yet as grimy as Crawl can get, Aja also executes the strong character work in the script by Michael Rasmussen and Shawn Rasmussen. Dave and Haley are real people, not just gator-bait, making their peril feel all the more real, and their triumphs all the sweeter. 6. Piranha (1978) Piranha is the only entry on this list to get a seal of approval from Stephen Spielberg himself, who not only praised the movie, even as Universal Pictures planned to sue the production, but also got director Joe Dante to later helm Gremlins. It’s not hard to see why Piranha charmed Spielberg, a man who loves wacky comedy. Dante’s Looney Tunes approach is on full display in some of the movie’s best set pieces. But Piranha is special because it also comes from legendary screenwriter John Sayles, who infuses the story with social satire and cynicism that somehow blends with Dante’s approach. The result is a film about piranha developed by the U.S. military to kill the Vietnamese getting unleashed into an American river and making their way to a children’s summer camp, a horrifying idea that Dante turns into good clean fun. 5. Slugs (1988) If we’re talking about well-made movies, then Slugs belongs way below any of the movies on this list, somewhere around the killer earthworm picture Squirm. But if we’re thinking about pure enjoyable spectacle, it’s hard to top Slugs, a movie about, yes, flesh-eating slugs. Yes, it’s very funny to think about people getting terrorized by creatures that are famous for moving very, very slowly. But Spanish director Juan Piquer Simón, perhaps best known for his equally bugnuts giallo Pieces (1982), pays as little attention to realism as he does to good taste. Slugs is filled with insane and ghastly sequences of killer slugs ending up in unlikely places, swarming the floor of someone’s bedroom or inside a fancy restaurant, and then devouring people, one methodical bite at a time. 4. Deep Blue Sea (1999) When it comes to goofy ’90s CGI action, it’s hard to top Deep Blue Sea, directed by Renny Harlin and featuring sharks with genetically enhanced brains. Deep Blue Sea doesn’t have a strong sense of pacing, it lacks any sort of believable character development, and the effects looked terrible even in 1999. But it’s also the only movie on this list that features LL Cool J as a cool chef who recites a violent version of the 23rd Psalm and almost gets cooked alive in an oven by a genius-level shark. It’s scenes like the oven sequence that makes Deep Blue Sea such a delight, despite its many, many flaws. The movie tries to do the most at every turn, whether that’s clearly reediting the movie in postproduction so that LL Cool J’s chef becomes a central character, stealing the spotlight form intended star Saffron Burrows, or a ridiculous Samuel L. Jackson monologue with a delightfully unexpected climax. 3. Alligator (1980) In many ways, Alligator feels like screenwriter John Sayles’ rejoinder to Piranha. If Joe Dante sanded down Piranha‘s sharp edges with his goofy humor, then Alligator is so filled with mean-spiritedness that no director could dilute it. Not that Lewis Teague, a solid action helmer who we’ll talk about again shortly, would do that. Alligator transports the old adage about gators in the sewers from New York to Chicago where the titular beast, the subject of experiments to increase its size, begins preying on the innocent. And on the not so innocent. Alligator shows no respect for the good or the bad, and the film is filled with scenes of people getting devoured, whether it’s a young boy who becomes a snack during a birthday party prank or an elderly mafioso who tries to abandon his family during the gator’s rampage. 2. Grizzly (1976) Grizzly stands as the greatest of the movies obviously ripping off Jaws precisely because it understands its limitations. It takes what it can from Spielberg’s masterpiece, including the general premise of an animal hunting in a tourist location, and ignores what it can’t pull off, namely three-dimensional characters. This clear-eyed understanding of everyone’s abilities makes Grizzly a lean, mean, and satisfying thriller. Directed by blaxploitation vet William Girdler and written by Harvey Flaxman and David Sheldon, Grizzly stars ’70s low-budget king Christopher George as a park ranger investigating unusually vicious bear attacks on campers. That’s not the richest concept in the world, but Girdler and co. execute their ideas with such precision, and George plays his character with just the right amount of machismo, that Grizzly manages to deliver on everything you want from an animal attack. 1. Cujo (1983) To some modern readers, it might seem absurd to put Cujo on a list of Jaws knockoffs. After all, Stephen King is a franchise unto himself and he certainly doesn’t need another movie’s success to get a greenlight for any of his projects. But you have to remember that Cujo came out in 1983 and was just the third of his works to get adapted theatrically, which makes its Jaws connection more valid. After all, the main section of the film—in which mom (Dee Wallace) and her son Tad (Danny Pintauro) are trapped in their car and menaced by the titular St. Bernard—replicates the isolation on Quint’s fishing vessel, the Orca, better than any other film on this list. However, it’s not just director Lewis Teague’s ability to create tension that puts Cujo at the top. Writers Don Carlos Dunaway and Lauren Currier key into the complicated familial dynamics of King’s story, giving the characters surprising depth. It’s no wonder that Spielberg would cast Wallace as another overwhelmed mom for E.T. The Extraterrestrial the very next year, proving that he still has a soft spot for animal attack movies—even if none of them came close to matching the power of Jaws.

Until last October, Argentinian musical duo Ca7riel & Paco Amoroso were more or less a regional act. Known for their experimental blend of Latin trap, pop, and rap, the pair had a fanbase, but still weren’t cracking more than 3,000 daily streams across services like Spotify, Apple Music, and YouTube. Within a week, they shot up 4,700%—hitting 222,000 daily streams—according to exclusive data firm Luminate, which powers the Billboard charts. Suddenly Ca7riel & Paco Amoroso were global pop stars.  What changed? On Oct. 4, the pair were featured in a Tiny Desk Concert, part of NPR’s 17-year-old video series featuring musicians performing stripped-down sets behind an office desk in the cramped Washington, D.C. headquarters of the public broadcaster.  In the concert video, the artists play five songs from their debut album Baño Maria, which came out last April. Paco’s raspy voice emerges from underneath a puffy blue trapper hat while Ca7riel sports an over-the-top pout and a vest made of stitched-together heart-shaped plush toys. The pair sing entirely in Spanish, backed by their Argentinian bandmates (sporting shirts screenprinted with their visas) and an American horn section. The duo’s performance quickly took off across the internet. Within five days, it had racked up more than 1.5 million views on YouTube, and hit 11 million in little more than a month. It also reverberated across social media: the NPR Music Instagram post garnering nearly 900,000 likes, and TikToks clips garnered hundreds of thousands of views.  In a year that featured Tiny Desk performances from buzzy stars like Chappell Roan and Sabrina Carpenter, as well as established acts like Chaka Khan and Nelly Furtado, Ca7riel & Paco Amoroso’s concert was the most-watched of 2024. It currently sits at 36 million views.  That virality translated to an influx of bookings for the duo, including a performance at Coachella in April, and upcoming slots at Glastonbury in June, FujiRock Japan in July, and Lollapalooza and Outside Lands in August. Ca7riel & Paco Amoroso’s global tour includes sold-out dates at Mexico’s 20,000-capacity Palacio de los Deportes and Chile’s 14,000-seat Movistar Areana—and was previewed by an appearance on The Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon in April.  “Through Tiny Desk, we’ve noticed media approaching us, promoters being very interested in offering their spaces and festivals, and many media outlets opening doors to show us to the world,” says Jonathan Izquierdo, the band’s Spain-based tour manager who began working with the duo shortly after the Tiny Desk Concert debuted. “We’ve managed to sell out summer arena shows in record time and we’re constantly adding new concerts. Promoters are knocking on our doors to get the Tiny Desk effect.” Bobby Carter [Photo: Fenn Paider/courtesy NPR] Tiny Desk, Big Influence The Tiny Desk effect is something Bobby Carter, NPR Tiny Desk host and series producer, has seen firsthand. Carter has been at NPR for 25 years, including the past 11 on the Tiny Desk team. He took the reins when Bob Boilen, the longtime All Songs Considered host who launched Tiny Desk in 2008, retired in 2023.  The series—which now has more than 1,200 videos—began as an internet-first way for Boilen to showcase performances from musicians that were more intimate than what happens in bigger concert venues. The first installment, featuring folk artist Laura Gibson, went up on YouTube. Today, the concerts are posted on the NPR site with a writeup and credits, as well as YouTube, where NPR Music has 11 million followers. NPR Music also clips installments on Instagram, where it has 3 million followers.  In the early days, NPR staff reached out to touring bands to secure bookings. Acts coming through DC could often be cajoled into filming an installment before heading out to their venues for that night’s sound check. Now, musicians come to DC just for the chance to record in NPR’s offices.  “We don’t have to worry about tours anymore,” Carter says. “Labels and artists are willing to come in solely for a Tiny Desk performance. They understand the impact that a really good Tiny Desk concert can have on an artist’s career.” Early on, the stripped-down nature of the Tiny Desk—artists can’t use any audio processing or voice modulation—lent itself to rock, folk, and indie acts. But a 2014 concert with T-Pain, in which the famously autotune-heavy singer unveiled an impressive set of pipes, showed how artists from a broader array of genres could shine behind the Tiny Desk.  “Everyone knows at this point that they’re going to have to do something different in our space,” Carter says. “It’s a bigger ask for hip-hop acts and electronic acts, but most artists now understand how important it can be if they nail it.” Carter highlights rapper Doechii as an artist who overhauled her sound for her Tiny Desk concert in December. Doechii’s all-female backing band used trumpet, saxophone, guitar, and bass to transform songs from her mixtape Alligator Bites Never Heal for the live setting. “If you listen to the recorded version of her music, it’s nothing like what you saw in that Tiny Desk,” Carter says.  Clips of Doechii’s Tiny Desk virtuosity lit up social media, introducing the ‘swamp princess’ to new fans. The concert even inspired a viral parody, with writer-director-comedian Gus Heagary pretending to be an NPR staffer watching the performance.    Reimagining Old Favorites It isn’t just emerging acts that totally revamp their sound for a Tiny Desk opportunity. Established artists like Usher, Justin Timberlake, and Cypress Hill have followed T-Pain’s lead and used NPR’s offices to showcase reimagined versions of some of their most popular songs. When Juvenile recorded his installment in June 2023, he was backed by horns and saxophones, a violin and cello, and John Batiste on melodica. The New Orleans rapper played an acoustic version of “Back That Azz Up” twice at the audience’s request—the first encore in the series’ history.  “I love what has happened with hip hop [on Tiny Desk],” Carter says. He explains that artists now approach the concert with the mindset: ‘I have to really rethink what I’ve been doing for however long I’ve been doing it, and present it in a whole new way.”  Tiny Desk has also helped musicians like Juvenile, gospel artist Marvin Sapp, and percussionist Sheila E to reach new audiences while reminding listeners they’re still making music. “We’re helping artists to re-emerge,” Carter says, “tapping into legacy acts and evergreen artists [to help] breathe new life into their careers.” In many ways, Tiny Desk now occupies a niche once filled by MTV Unplugged—but for the generation that has replaced cable with YouTube and streaming.   “Maybe 10, 15, 20 years ago, all of our favorite artists had this watershed moment in terms of a live performance,” Carter says. “Back in the day it was MTV Unplugged. SNL is still doing their thing. But when you think about the generation now that lives on YouTube, some of these Tiny Desk performances are going to be the milestone that people point to when it comes to live performances.” Building a Diverse Audience When Carter talks about Tiny Desk concerts reaching a new generation of listeners, it’s not conjecture. He notes that the NPR Music YouTube channel’s 11 million subscribers are “as young and diverse as it gets. It’s almost half people of color [and] much younger than the audience that listens to NPR on air, which is an audience NPR has been trying to tap for a long time,” he says.  That diversity informs some of the special series that Tiny Desk produces. The Juvenile video was part of Carter’s second run of concerts recorded for Black Music Month, in June. Ca7riel & Paco Amoroso’s video was tied to El Tiny, a Latin-focused series that debuts during Latin Heritage Month (from mid September to mid October) and is programmed by Tiny Desk producer and Alt.Latino host AnaMaria Sayer.  Ca7riel & Paco Amoroso’s tour manager, Izquierdo, has worked with artists featured in the series before. He says Tiny Desk is crucial for Latin American artists trying to break through. “I’ve realized that for U.S. radio, Latin music benefits from Tiny Desk,” he says. The Tiny Desk audience’s broad demographics are also increasingly reflected in its broader programming. Bad Bunny’s April installment took his reggaeton-inspired songs from recent album Debi Tirar Mas Fotos to their acoustic roots, using an array of traditional Puerto Rican, Latin American, and Caribbean instruments, such as the cuatro puertorriqueño, tiple, güicharo, and bongos.  “[Our] audience informs a whole lot of what we do,” Carter says. I get so many pointers from YouTube comments like ‘Have you heard of this artist?’ We’re watching all that stuff because it helps us stay sharp.” Tiny Desk heard round the world With a strong global audience, Tiny Desk has been expanding into Asia. In 2023, NPR struck a licensing deal with South Korean Telecom LG U+ and production company Something Special to produce Tiny Desk Korea for television. Last year, NPR inked a deal with the Japan Broadcasting Corporation (NHK) to launch Tiny Desk Concerts Japan. “We’re really expanding in terms of global reach,” Carter says.  Here in the States, Carter and Sayer recently launched Tiny Desk Radio, a series that will revisit some of the series’ notable installments, sharing behind-the-scenes stories from their productions and playing the audio from the concerts “Our engineers put a lot of time and effort into making sure that we sound great,” Carter says. “I hear it a lot—people tell me they prefer an artist’s Tiny Desk over anything.” That’s something Ca7riel & Paco Amoroso clearly have on their mind as they navigate the Tiny Desk effect and a new level of recognition (their daily streams haven’t dipped below 50,000 a day since the beginning of the year). The duo released an EP in February, Papota, which features four new songs, plus the recorded versions of their pared-down Tiny Desk performances. They also released a short film that recreates their Tiny Desk performance—this time in a Buenos Aires diner. One of the themes of the EP is the pair wrestling with the implications of their viral success. On the song Impostor, Ca7riel asks “¿Y ahora que vamos hacer?/El tiny desk me jodio” (What do we do now? Tiny Desk fucked me up.) It’s an overstatement, but an acknowledgment that the path they’re now on ran directly through the NPR offices. 

The US is less than 250 years old, but some of its most important archaeological sites are older than the Viking seafarers, the Roman Empire, and the pyramids.Many help tell the story of how the first humans came to North America. It's still a mystery exactly how and when people arrived, though it's widely believed they crossed the Bering Strait at least 15,000 years ago."As we get further back in time, as we get populations that are smaller and smaller, finding these places and interpreting them becomes increasingly difficult," archaeologist Kenneth Feder told Business Insider. He's the author of "Ancient America: Fifty Archaeological Sites to See for Yourself."Some sites, like White Sands and Cooper's Ferry, have skeptics about the accuracy of their age. Still, they contribute to our understanding of some of the earliest Americans.Others are more recent and highlight the different cultures that were spreading around the country, with complex buildings and illuminating pictographs.Many of these places are open to the public, so you can see the US' ancient history for yourself. White Sands National Park, New Mexico Footprints at White Sands. National Park Service Prehistoric camels, mammoths, and giant sloths once roamed what's now New Mexico, when it was greener and damper.As the climate warmed around 11,000 years ago, the water of Lake Otero receded, revealing footprints of humans who lived among these extinct animals. Some even seemed to be following a sloth, offering a rare glimpse into ancient hunters' behavior.Recent research puts some of these fossilized footprints at between 21,000 and 23,000 years old. If the dates are accurate, the prints would predate other archaeological sites in the US, raising intriguing questions about who these people were and how they arrived in the Southwestern state."Where are they coming from?" Feder said. "They're not parachute dropping in New Mexico. They must have come from somewhere else, which means there are even older sites." Archaeologists simply haven't found them yet.While visitors can soak in the sight of the eponymous white sands, the footprints are currently off-limits. Meadowcroft Rockshelter, Pennsylvania The archeological dig at the Meadowcroft National Historic Site in 2013. AP Photo/Keith Srakocic In the 1970s, archaeologist James M. Adovasio sparked a controversy when he and his colleagues suggested stone tools and other artifacts found in southwestern Pennsylvania belonged to humans who had lived in the area 16,000 years ago.For decades, scientists had been finding evidence of human habitation that all seemed to be around 12,000 to 13,000 years old, belonging to the Clovis culture. They were long believed to have been the first to cross the Bering land bridge. Humans who arrived in North America before this group are often referred to as pre-Clovis.At the time, skeptics said that the radiocarbon dating evidence was flawed, AP News reported in 2016. In the years since, more sites that appear older than 13,000 years have been found across the US.Feder said Adovasio meticulously excavated the site, but there's still no clear consensus about the age of the oldest artifacts. Still, he said, "that site is absolutely a major, important, significant site." It helped archaeologists realize humans started arriving on the continent before the Clovis people.The dig itself is on display at the Heinz History Center, allowing visitors to see an excavation in person. Cooper's Ferry, Idaho Excavators at Cooper's Ferry in 2013. Loren Davis/Oregon State University One site that's added intriguing evidence to the pre-Clovis theory is located in western Idaho. Humans living there left stone tools and charred bones in a hearth between 14,000 and 16,000 years ago, according to radiocarbon dating. Other researchers put the dates closer to 11,500 years ago.These stemmed tools are different from the Clovis fluted projectiles, researchers wrote in a 2019 Science Advances paper.Some scientists think humans may have been traveling along the West Coast at this time, when huge ice sheets covered Alaska and Canada. "People using boats, using canoes could hop along that coast and end up in North America long before those glacial ice bodies decoupled," Feder said.Cooper's Ferry is located on traditional Nez Perce land, which the Bureau of Land Management holds in public ownership. Page-Ladson, Florida Divers search in the sediment at the Page-Ladson site. Texas A&M University via Getty Images In the early 1980s, former Navy SEAL Buddy Page alerted paleontologists and archaeologists to a sinkhole nicknamed "Booger Hole" in the Aucilla River. There, the researchers found mammoth and mastodon bones and stone tools.They also discovered a mastodon tusk with what appeared to be cut marks believed to be made by a tool. Other scientists have returned to the site more recently, bringing up more bones and tools. They used radiocarbon dating, which established the site as pre-Clovis."The stone tools and faunal remains at the site show that at 14,550 years ago, people knew how to find game, fresh water and material for making tools," Michael Waters, one of the researchers, said in a statement in 2016. "These people were well-adapted to this environment."Since the site is both underwater and on private property, it's not open to visitors. Paisley Caves, Oregon One of the Paisley Caves near Paisley, Oregon. AP Photo/Jeff Barnard Scientists study coprolites, or fossilized poop, to learn about the diets of long-dead animals. Mineralized waste can also reveal much more. In 2020, archaeologist Dennis Jenkins published a paper on coprolites from an Oregon cave that were over 14,000 years old.Radiocarbon dating gave the trace fossils' age, and genetic tests suggested they belonged to humans. Further analysis of coprolites added additional evidence that a group had been on the West Coast 1,000 years before the Clovis people arrived.Located in southcentral Oregon, the caves appear to be a piece of the puzzle indicating how humans spread throughout the continent thousands of years ago.The federal Bureau of Land Management owns the land where the caves are found, and they are listed on the National Register of Historic Places. Swan Point, Alaska Excavators working at the Swan Point site in June 2016. Charles Holmes/University of Alaska, Fairbanks Whenever people arrived in the Americas, they crossed from Siberia into Beringia, an area of land and sea between Russia and Canada and Alaska. Now it's covered in water, but there was once a land bridge connecting them.The site in Alaska with the oldest evidence of human habitation is Swan Point, in the state's eastern-central region. In addition to tools and hearths dating back 14,000 years, mammoth bones have been found there.Researchers think this area was a kind of seasonal hunting camp. As mammoths returned during certain times of the years, humans would track them and kill them, providing plentiful food for the hunter-gatherers.While Alaska may have a wealth of archaeological evidence of early Americans, it's also a difficult place to excavate. "Your digging season is very narrow, and it's expensive," Feder said. Some require a helicopter to reach, for example. Blackwater Draw, New Mexico A palaeontologist excavating a mammoth in Portales, New Mexico, circa 1960. Dick Kent/FPG/Archive Photos/Getty Images In 1929, 19-year-old James Ridgley Whiteman found mammoth bones along with fluted projectile points near Clovis, New Mexico. The Clovis people who made these tools were named for this site.Researchers studying the site began to realize the artifacts found at the site belonged to different cultures. Clovis points are typically larger than Folsom flutes, which were first found at another archaeological site in New Mexico.For decades after Whiteman's discovery, experts thought the Clovis people were the first to cross the Bering land bridge from Asia around 13,000 years ago. Estimates for humans' arrival is now thought to be at least 15,000 years ago.Eastern New Mexico University's Blackwater Draw Museum grants access to the archaeological site between April and October. Upper Sun River, Alaska Excavations at the Upward Sun River, Alaska. Ben Potter/University of Alaska, Fairbanks One reason the dates of human occupation in North America is so contentious is that very few ancient remains have been found. Among the oldest is a child from Upward Sun River, or Xaasaa Na', in Central Alaska.Archaeologists found the bones of the child in 2013. Local indigenous groups refer to her as Xach'itee'aanenh t'eede gay, or Sunrise Girl-Child. Genetic testing revealed the 11,300-year-old infant belonged to a previously unknown Native American population, the Ancient Beringians.Based on the child's genetic information, researchers learned that she was related to modern Native Americans but not directly. Their common ancestors started becoming genetically isolated 25,000 years ago before dividing into two groups after a few thousand years: the Ancient Berignians and the ancestors of modern Native Americans.According to this research, it's possible humans reached Alaska roughly 20,000 years ago. Poverty Point National Monument, Louisiana Poverty Point in Louisiana. National Park Service Stretching over 80 feet long and 5 feet tall, the rows of curved mounds of Poverty Point are a marvel when viewed from above. Over 3,000 years ago, hunter-gatherers constructed them out of tons of soil. Scientists aren't sure exactly why people built them, whether they were ceremonial or a display of status.The artifacts various groups left behind indicate the site was used off and on for hundreds of years and was a meeting point for trading. People brought tools and rocks from as far as 800 miles away. Remains of deer, fish, frogs, alligators, nuts, grapes, and other food have given archaeologists insights into their diets and daily lives.You can see the World Heritage Site for yourself year-round. Horseshoe Canyon, Utah The Great Gallery in Horseshoe Canyon. Neal Herbert/National Park Service Though remote, the multicolored walls of Horseshoe Canyon have long attracted visitors. Some of its artifacts date back to between 9,000 and 7,000 BCE, but its pictographs are more recent. Some tests date certain sections to around 2,000 to 900 years ago.The four galleries contain life-sized images of anthropomorphic figures and animals in what's known as the Barrier Canyon style. Much of this art is found in Utah, produced by the Desert Archaic culture.The pictographs may have spiritual and practical significance but also help capture a time when groups were meeting and mixing, according to the Natural History Museum of Utah.It's a difficult trek to get to the pictographs (and the NPS warns it can be dangerously hot in summer) but are amazing to view in person, Feder said. "These are creative geniuses," he said of the artists. Canyon de Chelly, Arizona The Antelope House at Canyon de Chelly National Monument. Michael Denson/National Park Service Situated in the Navajo Nation, Canyon de Chelly has gorgeous desert views and thousands of years of human history. Centuries ago, Ancestral Pueblo and Hopi groups planted crops, created pictographs, and built cliff dwellings.Over 900 years ago, Puebloan people constructed the White House, named for the hue of its clay. Its upper floors sit on a sandstone cliff, with a sheer drop outside the windows.Navajo people, also known as Diné, still live in Canyon de Chelly. Diné journalist Alastair Lee Bitsóí recently wrote about visiting some of the sacred and taboo areas. They include Tsé Yaa Kin, where archaeologists found human remains.In the 1860s, the US government forced 8,000 Navajo to relocate to Fort Sumner in New Mexico. The deadly journey is known as the "Long Walk." Eventually, they were able to return, though their homes and crops were destroyed.A hike to the White House is the only one open to the public without a Navajo guide or NPS ranger. Mesa Verde National Park, Colorado Visitors line up at Mesa Verde National Park. Shutterstock/Don Mammoser In the early 1900s, two women formed the Colorado Cliff Dwelling Association, hoping to preserve the ruins in the state's southwestern region. A few years later, President Theodore Roosevelt signed a bill designating Mesa Verde as the first national park meant to "preserve the works of man."Mesa Verde National Park holds hundreds of dwellings, including the sprawling Cliff Palace. It has over 100 rooms and nearly two dozen kivas, or ceremonial spaces.Using dendrochronology, or tree-ring dating, archaeologists learned when Ancestral Pueblo people built some of these structures and that they migrated out of the area by the 1300s.Feder said it's his favorite archaeological site he's visited. "You don't want to leave because you can't believe it's real," he said.Tourists can view many of these dwellings from the road, but some are also accessible after a bit of a hike. Some require extra tickets and can get crowded, Feder said. Cahokia, Illinois A mound at Cahokia in Illinois. Matt Gush/Shutterstock Cahokia has been called one of North America's first cities. Not far from present-day St. Louis, an estimated 10,000 to 20,000 people lived in dense settlements roughly 1,000 years ago. Important buildings sat atop large mounds, which the Mississippians built by hand, The Guardian reported.At the time, it was thriving with hunters, farmers, and artisans. "It's an agricultural civilization," Feder said. "It's a place where raw materials from a thousand miles away are coming in." Researchers have also found mass graves, potentially from human sacrifices.The inhabitants built circles of posts, which one archaeologist later referred to as "woodhenges," as a kind of calendar. At the solstices, the sun would rise or set aligned with different mounds.After a few hundred years, Cahokia's population declined and disappeared by 1350. Its largest mound remains, and some aspects have been reconstructed.While Cahokia is typically open to the public, parts are currently closed for renovations. Montezuma Castle, Arizona Montezuma Castle, a cliff dwelling, in Arizona. MyLoupe/Universal Images Group via Getty Images Perched on a limestone cliff in Camp Verde, Arizona, this site is an apartment, not a castle, and is unrelated to the Aztec ruler Montezuma.The Sinagua people engineered the five-story, 20-room building around 1100. It curves to follow the natural line of the cliff, which would have been more difficult than simply making a straight building, Feder said."These people were architects," he said. "They had a sense of beauty."The inhabitants were also practical, figuring out irrigation systems and construction techniques, like thick walls and shady spots, to help them survive the hot, dry climate.Feder said the dwelling is fairly accessible, with a short walk along a trail to view it, though visitors can't go inside the building itself.

I don't mean to be alarmist, but I do think it's time to start assuming everything you see online is fake. The internet is full of content produced by real people, of course (this article included). But AI-generated media is getting so realistic, that it almost puts you at a disadvantage to presume the content you're scrolling past on your feeds is legitimate. Don't skip this article because you know what AI content looks like—the current stuff your algorithm delivers to your social media feeds is easy to spot if you know what you're looking for. But even if you can identify AI slop the second it hits your eyeballs, you need to know you're not ready for the next wave of AI-generated videos. That wave isn't just on its way—it's already here. AI content is already fooling peopleMost of us are acutely aware of the "AI video" look: This "tragic" video of a cat parent saving their kitten by throwing it out of a burning airplane is obvious AI slop to most who watch it. You probably know Trump isn't working this construction site, and you most assuredly can understand this family of cat farmers is, in fact, AI-generated.But there are the videos that aren't so obvious, especially to those of us not quite so in tune with AI, or technology in general. You might know this video of babies dancing in a circle is AI, but plenty of the people in the comments didn't (assuming they aren't bots, either). You might also be able to tell that this family of pets isn't really watching a bird investigate a toy alligator, but, again, plenty can't. And there is no end to the America's Got Talent videos that feature "realistic" yet impossible visuals—that still capture the hearts of hundreds of thousands, if not millions of people. (I weep.)But I'm not writing this piece today because I'm concerned about how many of these "believable" AI videos are tricking way too many people into thinking they're real. I am worried about that, but those worries pale in comparison to my new fears.So far, most of the AI videos taking over social media feeds rely mainly on their visuals and background sounds to sell their alleged authenticity. You'll notice none of the characters in any of these videos actually speak. If they do, it's immediately off-putting, with out of sync lip movements and, typically, robotic voices. It's been easier for AI creators to put the emphasis on the realism of the people and animals in their videos, and hope you're wowed enough by a baby dancing with a lion to not think, "this is bullshit, right?"Even OpenAI's Sora video model, which shocked me with its quality in February of last year, was working off of its realistic visuals. A video of woman "filming" her reflection through a train window too real for comfort, but Sora wasn't spitting out fully-rendered conversations. If you see such a scene on your feeds, you probably assume, of course, it's a real video—or at least one generated by humans.AI video is about to change completelySomething happened this week that only made me more pessimistic about the future of truth on the internet. During this week's Google I/O event, Google unveiled Veo 3, its latest AI video model. Like other competitive models out there, Veo 3 can generate highly realistic sequences, which Google showed off throughout the presentation. Sure, not great, but also, nothing really new there. But Veo 3 isn't just capable of generating video that might trick your eye into thinking its real: Veo 3 can also generate audio to go alongside the video. That includes sound effects, but also dialogue—lip-synced dialogue. In order to demonstrate Veo 3's audio/video capabilities, Google showed off a clip of an old sailor at sea. The video quality is sharp and realistic, and the words the man speaks are synced to his lip movements. Of course, knowing the video is AI, you notice quirks that give away the game (to my eye, this looks like a high quality animation more than a live action shot) but I am quite confident this video would fool a lot of fans of fake AGT videos. But even this clip wasn't what inspired my newfound fears—it was the videos that users started making once they got their hands on Veo 3. PetaPixel has a great roundup of some of the "best" Veo 3 videos people have made so far, but I'll highlight some of the ones that should scare you most. This clip shows a streamer playing Fortnite. Everything, including the game footage, was generated with Google's AI: This Tweet is currently unavailable. It might be loading or has been removed. This clip shows three concerts that never happened, featuring musicians and crowds that do not exist. The music isn't good, but that's not the point. The music, from the vocals to the instrumentals, was generated entirely by the AI, and then synced to lips, drums, guitars, and strings: This Tweet is currently unavailable. It might be loading or has been removed. But this clip is, without a doubt, the one that should sound the alarm for each and every one of us. Someone generated a fake video of a fake car show, featuring fake interviews with fake attendees. It's far from perfect, but any AI quirks are totally overshadowed by the surface-level realism here. Not only would the AI's Got Talent fans buy this, I would buy this, especially if I wasn't looking out for it: This Tweet is currently unavailable. It might be loading or has been removed. It's the visuals; it's the dialogue; it's the crowds; it's the lighting; it's the candid laughter at "mistakes;" it's the sound of the mic being "bumped" into. Congratulations on noticing the dialogue often doesn't make sense, or that the people in the background defy the laws of physics—you won't notice it when it hits mid-scroll on TikTok or Instagram. Even Veo 2, which isn't as powerful as Veo 3, now offers tools for realism, like the ability to dictate how you want the camera to move. And both models are available in Flow, Google's AI video editor of sorts. Creators now have the ability to generate highly realistic AI content that feels like it was filmed in-person, and the tech is only getting better. This Tweet is currently unavailable. It might be loading or has been removed. Google's best AI video generator tools cost $250 a month through its new AI Ultra subscription plan. That's expensive, but not out of reach for plenty of people interested in making AI-generated content. But the $20 per month plan, AI Pro, still comes with Veo 2 and Flow access. The rate limits are lower, but I wouldn't be shocked to see some realistic slop come out of those limitations, too. It's time to be a full-time skepticNone of this tech is perfect. I'm not here to tell you that everything Veo 3 spits out is indistinguishable from real content, or that the videos are absent any of the usual AI tells. In fact, there's clearly something up with Veo 3's training data: As 404 Media reports, the model continuously generates the same weird "dad joke" whenever you ask for a generation of a comedian performing standup. What I'm saying is, it's time to turn on your bullshit detectors and keep them active full time. When engaging with videos on the internet—especially short-form algorithmic clips—you might be safer operating under the assumption the content is fake from the jump, and require proof beyond a reasonable doubt that what you're seeing wasn't generated with a simple prompt and a $250 budget. That feels extreme, but after what I've seen this week, I don't really see another way to engage with this content going forward.We're in scary territory now. Today, it's demos of musicians and streamers. Tomorrow, it's a politician saying something they didn't; a suspect committing the crime they're accused of; a "reporter" feeding you lies through the "news."I hope this is as good as the technology gets. I hope AI companies run out of training data to improve their models, and that governments take some action to regulate this technology. But seeing as the Republicans in the United States passed a bill that included a ban on state-enforced AI regulations for ten years, I'm pretty pessimistic on that latter point. In all likelihood, this tech is going to get better, with zero guardrails to ensure it advances safely. I'm left wondering how many of those politicians who voted yes on that bill watched an AI-generated video on their phone this week and thought nothing of it.

Morris, the Movie Star Alligator Who Appeared in ‘Happy Gilmore,’ Dies of Old Age Based on his growth rate and tooth loss, the 640-pound gator was estimated to be at least 80. He starred in movies and TV shows between 1975 and 2006 After starring in numerous movies and television shows, Morris retired in 2006 and lived out his final days at the Colorado Gator Farm. RJ Sangosti / MediaNews Group / The Denver Post via Getty Images Morris, the alligator who starred in Happy Gilmore and numerous other movies and TV shows, has died. In an announcement from the Colorado Gator Farm, where the beloved 640-pound reptile had lived for the last two decades, caretakers say the cause of death was “old age.” “He started acting strange about a week ago. Wasn’t lunging at us and wasn’t taking food,” says Jay Young, the farm’s owner and operator, while tearfully petting Morris’ head in a video posted on Facebook. Morris was nearly 11 feet long at the time of his death, according to another post the Colorado Gator Farm shared on Facebook. Based on his growth rate and tooth loss, Young estimates the gator was at least 80 years old. “While we knew this was inevitable, we are very saddened by his passing,” the Colorado Gator Farm writes. Morris was rescued from a Los Angeles backyard, where he was being kept as an illegal pet. He began his prolific career in 1975 and kept working until his retirement in 2006. His TV and film credits include Interview With the Vampire, Dr. Dolittle 2, Blues Brothers 2000, “Coach,” “Night Court” and “The Tonight Show with Jay Leno,” reports Thomas Peipert of the Associated Press. But he’s perhaps best known for Happy Gilmore, the 1996 comedy starring Adam Sandler as a down-on-his-luck hockey player who discovers his powerful golf swing. After Gilmore hits a shot in a tournament, Morris grabs his golf ball with his mouth. Gilmore confronts the alligator. “Give me my ball! Give it here!” he shouts, while waving his golf club in the alligator’s face. Morris responds by snapping his jaws a few times. After Gilmore tries unsuccessfully to grab the ball from the alligator’s gaping mouth, he sees the creature is missing one eye. Gilmore realizes it’s the same gator that bit off the hand of his mentor, Derick “Chubbs” Peterson (Carl Weathers). When Morris sprints into a nearby pond, Gilmore follows. After a brief tussle, Gilmore retrieves his ball from the gator’s mouth and holds it above his head as the crowd cheers. Later, he presents the alligator’s head to Chubbs, who is so shocked he falls backward through an open window to his death. On May 14, Sandler posted a tribute to Morris on Instagram.“You could be hard on directors, make-up artists, costumers—really anyone with arms or legs—but I know you did it for the ultimate good of the film,” the actor wrote in a caption accompanying a still from the movie. “The day you wouldn’t come out of your trailer unless we sent in 40 heads of lettuce taught me a powerful lesson: Never compromise your art.” He added: “I will miss the sound of your tail sliding through the tall grass, your cold, bumpy skin, but, most of all, I will miss your infectious laugh.” Sandler is working on a sequel to the film, called Happy Gilmore 2, which will be released on Netflix in July. Morris does not appear in the new film, since he died in the first movie. But his memory will live on. “We have decided to get Morris taxidermied so that he can continue to scare children for years to come,” the Colorado Gator Farm writes on Facebook. “It’s what he would have wanted.” The farm is located in Mosca, a small town roughly 200 miles southwest of Denver. Situated in the San Luis Valley, the farm is home to roughly 300 alligators, as well as snakes, lizards, crocodiles and tortoises, per CBS News Colorado’s Logan Smith. Young’s parents, Erwin and Lynne, started the operation as a tilapia farm in the late 1970s. They brought in baby alligators to clean up the dead fish, but as the reptiles grew, visitors began showing up to see them. Today, the farm serves as a refuge for unwanted, illegal and abused reptiles. Get the latest stories in your inbox every weekday.

I started writing my own film scripts when I was ten, and I basically wanted to be Indiana Jones. Well, I wanted to be Indy, the director and the guy who did the stunts and the storyboards after seeing Temple of Doom with my dad at the Harrogate Odeon. He'd bought me the Official Souvenir Magazine – I knew it was important – which was full of colourful costume sketches, storyboards detailing some of the action I'd just seen, and glossy pictures of cast and crew in glamorous locations. I think that was the first time I had an inkling of what I wanted to do with my life, but growing up in a small Yorkshire town wasn't exactly conducive to being Indiana Jones: the most useful film locations there were my buddy Richard's back garden and the local woods, but we endeavoured and made a three-minute epic where I, as Indy, swung across imagined alligator-infested swamps and ran through not-so-dense forests pursued by invisible tribesmen. Growing up in the Eighties was a fertile time for the imagination of anyone, particularly anyone who wanted to follow in the footsteps of Lucas and Spielberg. By the time I'd left school prematurely at sixteen and worked as a film assistant (when TV used to be shot on film) before returning to higher education, my friend Derek had already worked on the new Star Wars film, rubbed shoulders with Robert Altman and Tim Burton, and slept on a lot of mates' sofas. That, I thought, was my next goal. Not the sofas part – the working on big movies part. World History Archive / Alamy Stock Photo But again, there's this persistent myth that one has to "break into" the film industry, as Spielberg himself did; all one has to do is occupy an empty office at a film studio and pretend one works there until one does. The sad truth is that the film industry doesn't want you. I mean, it might do – but it just doesn't know it yet. Either way, you hear all kinds of motivational and anti-motivational stories in the press: everything from "Just pick up a phone and make a film" to "You can't just pick up a phone and make a film." Or "don't ask permission: be a rebel and just do what you want" but then also "make friends with producers and nurture working relationships" to get your films made. So which is it? I'm here to tell you it's both. I had years of making my own feature films (four to date) where I didn't ask permission to do so, just found private investors and gathered a cast and crew each time, to different levels of ambition and difficulty. There's a Spielberg quote in the Official Souvenir Magazine of Temple of Doom that I always remember, and it's something like: "You look at the script and think, how are we going to do all this? But somehow or other, it gets done." That's been the driving force of every movie I've made to date: we found the money, we gathered the crew, we did everything. Sure, some of them played in cinemas and then didn't do anything else (my first was deemed "too cheap" for a home release), but some won awards, and one even made it to Blu-ray. Score! But then came the pandemic, and I'd be lying if I didn't say it punctured the ambitions of just about everyone. It was not just the personal crises, loss, and fear it faced us with, but also the seemingly insurmountable heights to scale to get films made – which was already a challenge. In 2020, you might have thought things were picking up speed: we released our latest lo-fi feature film – the zombie comedy Zomblogalypse, which ended up on the aforementioned Blu-ray – in cinemas and film festivals, and I met with producers to sign a script deal for my ambitious action-horror. And then came about two years of "the market is dead" and "no one's making anything at the moment" and a hundred times the usual cliched setback talk of "it's not a good time right now…" except it was painfully, abundantly clear that this was in fact true. Zomblogalypse So during this time, all the while trying in earnest to get any movie off the ground (and we're talking baby budgets here), somewhere during the process, I decided to stop thinking of myself as a producer and director and just be a writer for a while. This was partly due to the amount of times I was told in producer meetings – both in TV and film – that they'd find a director for my script. And a co-writer. And a development executive. Now, I knew who all these people were because I'd read my Indiana Jones Official Souvenir Magazine, but the key point was that I needed to stop trying to do everything and focus on the scripts. A director, unless they're Mr Spielberg, can only direct every few years, while a writer can always write on a notepad by the bed, on the Notes app on their phone (which is how I'm writing this), on their laptop with half an hour to spare, and so forth. And yes, you're saying, but what if a writer doesn't have half an hour to spare because of their job or their family? And to that, I say yes, noted, but… you have to write. Find the time. In every minimum wage job I ever had, I wrote scripts. Sorry, former employers: you were all funding my screenwriting habit. I actually left secure and (under)paid employment fifteen years ago this very week and haven't looked back – but that's another story... Steven Spielberg (around 1995) – Pictorial Press Ltd / Alamy Stock Photo The point (finally) is that I decided to double down as a writer and pen a movie trilogy. Why, you ask? As if it isn't hard enough getting one screenplay written and submitted to a producer. And it is hard: I submitted my action-horror to my producer five years ago, after five years of scribbling and re-drafting and working with a co-writer and trying to get the damn thing self-financed and finally getting an industry producer to read it… why would I now, while I wait for that one to bear fruit – through strikes and fires and other Hollywood nonsense – go and do something stupid like write a trilogy? It comes down to that rebellious notion of not asking permission. I've got a trilogy in me (after years of working out several individual scripts and realising they're all linked thematically), so why not go for broke and write all three? Advice from my peers so far is a mix of "just write one and sell that first" because that's hard enough, and "f^&k yeah, go for it! No one else is writing a trilogy!" So, having written what has now evidently become the middle chapter, I've set to work on writing the first and drafting out the third. They're a mix of genres, but each one does stand alone, just in case I'm only able to get one into production (they're action thriller, sci-fi romcom, and action horror, in case you wondered). I don't know how wise it's going to prove to write three films at once, but so far, I'm enjoying the challenge. Pictorial Press Ltd / Alamy Stock Photo I'm a huge fan of the Back to the Future trilogy (who isn't) and how Bobs Zemeckis and Gale wrote the second and third as back-to-back projects, so I'm inspired by that and other well-made trilogies like Ginger Snaps and the more recent Fear Street. I like the format, and I've never written this way before. But after five years of stalled production and juggling one-off ideas (there are currently about twenty in my In Development folder), I'm doubling down for what, at age fifty, is my most ambitious project to date: writing a trilogy that may never get made, but which I'll do everything to try and get made. I'd rather make up for lost time than not make anything again. And as a writer, it's the ultimate project. Who doesn't love a trilogy? Hopefully, one day, a producer will agree with me that being this insanely ambitious is the way forward. Because I've been hiding in the shadows for too long as a struggling director, it's time to be a writer!