We Maxed Out Credit Cards, Drained a Settlement, and Finished a Feature Film

There is a romanticized version of independent filmmaking that people often imagine — a passionate artist with a great script, a group of believers, and a dream that somehow finds its way to the screen. Filmmaker D.J. Hale writes for IndieWire why that wasn't his story in making “Rescued.”

D.J. Hale is a first-time feature filmmaker whose debut film, “Rescued,” will premiere at this year’s Dances with Films: Los Angeles film festival. Hale serves as the writer, producer, director, editor and lead actor in the film, co-staring Lindsey Shaw, David DeLuise, and Elissa Kapneck. Ahead, Hale recounts how a project that ran out of money, stalled in production, and seemed destined to fail ultimately found a way forward through risk, sacrifice, and the extraordinary loyalty of one friend.

There is a romanticized version of independent filmmaking that people often imagine — a passionate artist with a great script, a group of believers, and a dream that somehow finds its way to the screen.

That wasn’t our story.

“Rescued” was funded the way a lot of truly independent films are funded: through sacrifice, risk, and a stubborn refusal to quit.

I have no shame in saying I come from a background of poverty. My mother, my little sister, and myself have essentially been vagabonds most of my life until I moved to Los Angeles at age 21. No home of our own, we bounced from friend to friend, family to family, the three of us and our dog confined to a room of whomever would take us in.

All that is to say: financial backing of any kind was non-existent. If I needed money, I had to get it. Plain and simple. By the time I finished writing “Rescued” in 2022, I knew there was no studio waiting for me, no wealthy investor, and no safety net. If this film was going to exist, I was going to have to find a way to make it myself.

At the time, I was surviving as an Uber and Lyft driver, often working ten-hour days just to cover basic living expenses. To finance the film, I took out a loan I had no plans of repaying any time soon, maxed out my credit cards, launched crowdfunding campaigns, and took on debt that I knew would follow me for years. Piece by piece, dollar by dollar, I assembled what I believed was enough money to make a feature film.

It wasn’t.

We began production on a 26-day shooting schedule. For a while, everything was moving forward. Then reality caught up with us.

By day 18, the money was gone.

I had eight shooting days left, tens of thousands of dollars’ worth of production expenses still ahead of me, rent approaching, and more debt than I had ever carried in my life. I remember looking at my bank account and realizing I had just a couple hundred dollars left to my name. My entire world stopped.

The film was unfinished.

For awhile, the dream felt finished too.

Maybe I had foolishly ruined my life, chasing some sort of fairy tale that a person like me could never actually obtain. 

But independent filmmaking has a funny way of forcing you to answer one question: How badly do you want it?

So I went back to work.

I took a full-time job. I continued driving Uber whenever I wasn’t working, literally giving myself no breaks. Weeks turned into months. Every dollar earned went toward paying down production debt and keeping the project alive. The cast and crew showed incredible patience and understanding, but the reality was that at the pace I was moving, it could have taken years to finish the film.

Then something happened that changed everything.

Years earlier, while acting in a short film in Reno, I met someone who would become my closest friend and creative partner, Dominique Smith. We had spent years collaborating on projects, encouraging each other through setbacks, and trying to build careers in an industry that rarely makes success easy.

During the production shutdown, Dominique was dealing with struggles of his own, becoming homeless in the process. He was living with me at the time and waiting on the resolution of a work-injury settlement that had been tied up for years.

When the settlement finally arrived, we never had a dramatic conversation about the film. I never asked him for money. In truth, I expected him to use it to build a more secure life for himself — and he would have been completely justified in doing so.

Instead, he asked a simple question: “How much do we need to finish?”

Over the following months, Dominique committed a significant portion of that settlement to helping eliminate production debt and restart filming. Eventually, those funds ran out as well, and he found himself grinding beside me — working long hours, driving Uber, and doing whatever was necessary to keep moving forward.

“Rescued” was never his burden to carry.

But he carried it anyway.

Together, we finished the film.

Today, we’re both still rebuilding from the financial impact of making “Rescued.” Independent filmmaking often leaves scars that audiences never see. What appears on screen as a finished feature is often the result of years of uncertainty, sleepless nights, second jobs, and people betting on each other when logic says they shouldn’t. When people ask how “Rescued” was funded, the truthful answer isn’t loans, credit cards, crowdfunding campaigns, or side hustles.

It was funded by belief.

Belief in a story worth telling.

Belief in perseverance when every sign pointed toward quitting.

Belief in shooting for the stars. 

And above all, belief from one extraordinary friend.

If “Rescued” exists today, it is because Dominique Smith stepped up when the project was on life support and helped carry it across the finish line. He is my producing partner, my confidant, and my best friend.

The title of the film is “Rescued.”

In many ways, so was the production itself.