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I really enjoyed The Debt Collector films (2018–2020) starring Scott Adkins and Louis Mandylor. What was the most difficult scene to shoot?
Thank you — they were very difficult films to make, but I’m incredibly proud of them.
Making low-budget independent films in Los Angeles today is no small feat. It’s ironic, really — Hollywood was once the mecca for indie filmmaking, and now it can be one of the most restrictive and expensive places to shoot. Every day felt like a logistical puzzle.
For example, the permit for the interior nightclub scenes in DEBT COLLECTORS required three police cars, six officers, and a fire marshal — for an interior shoot where they weren’t contributing creatively or practically. After ten hours, they all went into overtime. We paid a significant amount to shoot until midnight, only to be told at 9:55 p.m. that 10 p.m. was actually our hard stop. That kind of unpredictability is brutal on an independent production.
I ended up going back months later with a splinter unit to finish those scenes. In true indie-film fashion, a special effect accidentally triggered the sprinkler system — which turned into a full-blown disaster. The water sitting in those pipes for decades landed me in the hospital with a fairly exotic infection and three bags of saline intravenously. It wasn’t glamorous.
But that’s independent filmmaking — resilience, problem-solving, and a little bit of madness. You survive it, you adapt, and somehow you get the movie finished. And when you see it on screen, you remember why you put yourself through it in the first place.
What changed in your approach for the sequel?
The biggest difference from the first film was that we already knew these two characters so intimately. There was no need to sit around discussing who they were or what their motivations might be — that groundwork had been laid. Louis and Scott understood them inside and out. Between takes, they could workshop moments instinctively, refine beats, and adjust tone without overthinking it. That familiarity made the shoot far more efficient and creatively fluid.
I originally created these characters based on two real debt collectors I knew back in the ’90s. It was a script I optioned three different times over the years — it actually paid my rent at certain points. So it’s been with me for a long time.
But what Louis and Scott did was transformative. They took those early sketches and gave them flesh and bone. They made the characters fully dimensional and carried the emotional and physical weight of the story. They really did the heavy lifting, and the films are better because of that.
Your collaboration with Scott Adkins began with Savage Dog in 2017, and you have now worked together on six films. How did you first connect?
Isaac Florentine introduced us. Scott was in his twenties at the time — very quiet, very focused, and absolutely dedicated to becoming a force to be reckoned with. I liked him immediately. There was something very clear and disciplined about him.
But if I’m being honest, I also felt we were at the tail end of the golden martial arts era. In my view, it was already over. The days when independent martial arts films were being made for $5 million a picture and financed off foreign pre-sales were done. Companies like Cannon and PM Entertainment had built a whole ecosystem around that model — theatrical overseas, VHS, DVD — and they could reliably turn a profit. That machinery had largely disappeared.
So while I admired Scott’s drive, I remember thinking that trying to break through as a martial arts star at that moment was almost crazy. The industry had shifted. It felt like chasing something from the past.
What I underestimated was timing and tenacity. Genres cycle. Audiences rediscover things. And Scott wasn’t chasing nostalgia — he was building himself brick by brick. That kind of focus tends to outlast trends.
Avengement (2019) stands out in Scott Adkins’ career. From the start, did you intend for it to be that raw and distinctly British in tone?
Yes — I wrote the script after long conversations with an ex-gangster friend of mine while I was working as a stuntman on THOR. The original version was a lot grittier, grimier, and frankly nastier. It was uncompromisingly bleak. The working title was RUNT — like the smallest pig in a litter. That metaphor felt right at the time.
It was optioned several times over the years, but it sort of languished. I loved it, but it was dark in a way that made it a hard sell. There wasn’t much oxygen in it.
After working with Scott on ACCIDENT MAN, I kept seeing him as Runt. He had that quiet intensity, that coiled presence. So I sent it to him. He responded to it immediately and brought in some dark humor and a few clever twists that opened the story up. I added the “cuckoo-con” thread to give the film some heart — something human to offset the brutality.
The film had already been green-lit when I was flying to the UK to shoot it. I couldn’t sleep on the plane, so I turned on the light — I think I was the only person in the cabin with a reading lamp on — and wrote that entire sub-story in one sitting. Ten straight hours. By the time we landed, it was done.
It’s not necessarily life-changing cinema, but it gives Cain a purpose beyond pure revenge, and that mattered to me. Without that, it would have just been another descent into darkness. With it, there’s at least a flicker of redemption — and that changes everything.
Triple Threat (2019) brought together Scott Adkins, Michael Jai White, Iko Uwais, Tony Jaa, Michael Bisping, and Ron Smoorenburg. What was the biggest challenge in balancing so many strong action performers and showcasing their strengths?
There was no script when we began. Mike Selby and I built it from scratch during prep. He has this incredibly exotic riverside house just outside Bangkok, which made for a pretty idyllic writing room. We worked from 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. every day with a very clear mandate: every character needed a strong dramatic motivation for a physical confrontation. The martial arts couldn’t just exist for spectacle — each fight had to grow organically from character and circumstance.
On top of that, we also had to engineer gunplay and larger stunt action sequences beyond the martial arts. It was a structural puzzle, but we solved it. By the end of prep, we had something that functioned both dramatically and physically.
That said, ensemble martial arts films come with their own challenges. Some actors understandably wanted to showcase their physicality, and when they had to wait their turn, tensions occasionally flared. The producers eventually reminded everyone that none of the names were individually financing the film and that everyone was, in blunt terms, replaceable. That tends to recalibrate expectations fairly quickly.
Where things became more difficult was in post-production. The distributor significantly reworked the edit and shot additional scenes in China that, in my opinion, didn’t align tonally or narratively with what we had built. It was frustrating, because we had invested so much time in carefully structuring the script. I’ve asked a few times about the possibility of a director’s or editor’s cut being released — I genuinely believe it’s a much stronger film in that form — but we’ll see what happens.
At this point, I’ve made peace with it. The fights are strong. Tim Man did terrific choreography that allowed each martial artist to shine in a distinct way, which was always the goal. Audiences seem to enjoy it despite the narrative bumps. And in this business, sometimes you take the wins where you can and move forward. Onwards, as they say.
You have also worked twice with Aaron Eckhart on Chief of Station (2024) and Thieves Highway (2025). What sets him apart from other action leads?
Aaron is an extraordinary actor — incredibly dedicated, disciplined, and operating at the very top of his craft. He’s worked alongside true legends and icons, and he’s earned every bit of the respect he has in this industry. It’s genuinely a pleasure to work with someone at that level of experience who still shows up hungry and prepared.
Physically, he’s a machine. He takes the craft seriously — martial arts, firearms training, driving — the full tool kit of an action lead. He doesn’t just “get through” the physical side of it; he masters it. Whether it’s precision driving or a tightly choreographed fight sequence, he approaches it with the mindset of a professional athlete.
In my opinion, he’s one breakout action film away from being right back at the very top of the game. The ability, the discipline, the screen presence — it’s all there. Sometimes it just takes the right project at the right moment.
You recently directed an episode of The Pendragon Cycle: Rise of Merlin. How did directing television differ from directing feature films?
On that project, I wasn’t the writer or the showrunner, and in television the director isn’t the final word on set. That was actually something I found refreshing. It required me to check my ego at the door and really understand the collaborative hierarchy of TV storytelling.
I trusted the people I was working with. The showrunners had absorbed the entire book series and knew those characters inside and out. In television, you’re building a long-form narrative — so if I decided to improvise a moment in episode three to “improve” a scene, it could inadvertently undermine a minor plot point that becomes critical by episode eight. That level of structural precision was fascinating to me.
I genuinely enjoyed working within those parameters. It sharpened my discipline as a director.
And the cast were fantastic — young, focused, incredibly well-trained actors who truly lived for the work. There was a real energy and commitment on set that made the experience special. I loved it.
You have written 17 screenplays so far. Which one or two mean the most to you?
The one I’m working on at the moment is always the priority. Once a film is finished, it belongs to the past. You carry the lessons forward, but creatively you have to move on. Otherwise you’re living in yesterday.
That said, Boudica was special to me. My mother told me the story of Boudica of the Iceni when I was young, and we visited the statue together in London. It stayed with me — this image of a warrior queen who refused to submit. There was something powerful and mythic about her, but also deeply human.
So bringing that story to the screen wasn’t just another project. It had a personal resonance. It felt like closing a circle in a way — taking something that sparked my imagination as a child and reinterpreting it through the lens of everything I’ve learned since.
Your recent script Mexicali has drawn attention. How did you develop the concept and characters?
I’d seen a documentary about a small town in rural Mexico that decided to arm itself and stand up to the cartel. They were avocado farmers — and avocados, as strange as it sounds, are heavily controlled by the cartels as a major source of revenue.
These villagers and farmers chose to fight back. They organized, they armed themselves, and they took a stand. I found it incredibly moving. There was something raw and courageous about ordinary people refusing to surrender their livelihood and their dignity.
That was the seed. I wrote from that place.
Originally, it wasn’t conceived as a martial arts film, and it certainly wasn’t designed as a vehicle for a leading man. It was more grounded, more community-driven. But films evolve — financing realities, casting opportunities, the marketplace — and it gradually shifted shape. It became something slightly different from the original impulse, but that core idea of resistance and self-determination is still in there.
Luke LaFontaine directed Mexicali. What was it like watching another director bring your script to life?
Luke has directed so many second units for me over the years — we go back almost thirty years — and over that time we’ve developed a deep sense of trust. On this project, it really wasn’t any different. He’s even directed dialogue for me when the films have required it.
Actors love working with him. He’s larger than life — almost a character himself — and he brings that energy to every set. He’s been through the full stunt grind, from the old-school days of hard impacts and broken bones to today’s CG-assisted wires and green screens.
Beyond that, his knowledge is astonishing. He knows more about ancient warfare, blades, and combat history than most museum curators. For this film, he wasn’t just a second-unit director — he was the right man for the job in every sense.
Mexicali features Bren Foster, Kris Van Damme, and Louis Mandylor. When writing the script, did you picture these actors in those roles?
I didn’t have any of those wonderful names in mind initially — not at all. About five years ago, I had actually approached Bren to play the lead in a project I was going to direct. At that time, I had adjusted the script to accommodate an Australian character, and that draft became the foundation we returned to for this film.
When we polished it up and saw how it read with the final cast in mind, I thought they were absolutely wonderful. Everything just clicked in a way that felt right for the story and the characters.
What we can expect from Mexicali movie?
I’m very proud of what the team achieved with the dramatic story elements — the moments between the action. The gentle love story between two adults, the arc of the gangster who turns good, the redemptive threads — these are the elements that give the film heart. I think that’s what sets it apart from so many other indie action movies, which can often feel grim, nasty, and gritty, rarely offering genuine emotional stakes or a believable male/female relationship.
The action in Mexicali is kinetic and intense, but it’s always motivated by the story. It’s violent when it needs to be, not gratuitous, which I think further distinguishes the film. The fights and stunts serve the characters and the drama, rather than existing purely for spectacle, and that balance is something I’m really proud of.
Thanks must go to Ehud and Ariel Bleiberg who produced the film and allowed all of this to happen.
What are your three favorite martial arts films of all time?
Sanshiro Sugata (1943) by Akira Kurosawa, Enter the Dragon, Ong Bak.
What are your two favorite fight scenes in film history?
Sword fight the end of Sanjuro (1962) and the fist fight in The Quiet Man (1952).
Which three recent action movies would you recommend watching?
The Man from Nowhere, A Bittersweet Life, Predator Badlands.
