Right now, we’re working toward a lean production target of $36,000, with early development already underway. Every dollar we raise goes directly into putting the film on screen—paying cast and crew, securing locations, handling post-production, and making sure the final product can stand alongside the films that inspired it. And those ambitions are real. The goal is to take Odie through the festival circuit, starting with discovery-driven festivals like SXSW and Austin F

As Odie continues coming together here in Austin, we’re excited to announce several new additions to the cast: Matt Harmatuk as Mr. Anderson, Ben Jumper as Doug, Daniel Freeberg as Moose, Kristen Prince as Trixie, and Mirtha Martinez as Miss Vaughn. This group adds a real layer of texture to the world of the film. Odie has always depended on character more than plot mechanics. The people our protagonist meets over the course of his day are not background color. They are the s

We’re excited to officially welcome several new cast members to ODIE as the film continues to come together here in Austin. Each of these performers brings something distinct to the project, and we’re grateful to have them joining the production. Leading this round of cast announcements is Syd Goin, who joins ODIE as Blu. A gifted stand-up comedian and a sharp sketch and improv performer, Syd has trained at Upright Citizens Brigade in New York and also studied at The Hideout,

Angela is not an easy part to pull off. She has lived hard, adapted hard, and learned to move through the world with a level of toughness that can read as control, self-protection, or calculation depending on the moment. She is independent in the purest sense of the word, not because life rewarded her for it, but because it left her with little choice. The role needs someone who can carry that history without flattening her into a type, and Edwina has the weight and instinct

He joins Odie with an impressive body of work across some of the most respected films of the past decade. His credits include editorial work on One Battle After Another, Dune: Part Two, Oppenheimer, Licorice Pizza, and Her, a run of projects that reflects both technical precision and strong storytelling instincts.

Casting the title role in Odie was always going to matter. This is a film that depends on the humanity of its central performance. The story asks an audience to stay close to one man’s experience, to walk beside him through exhaustion, isolation, quiet absurdity, and the stubborn dignity required to keep moving. That kind of role cannot be carried by surface-level charm or performance tricks. It needs truth. It needs presence. It needs someone who can make a character feel li

I’ve been location scouting for Odie, and lately I’ve found myself thinking a lot about opening images. This happens to me a lot in prep. You head out to solve one practical problem and end up circling a creative one. You’re looking at streets, buildings, empty lots, light, distance, texture, and suddenly you’re not just asking where a scene should happen. You’re asking what the film should feel like from its very first moment. That question has been sitting with me. There ar

Before we cast Odie, we built him. Not as a symbol. Not as a statistic. As a man. Owen “Odie” Harper is a handyman. That detail matters. He knows how to fix things. He understands tools. He sees what’s broken and instinctively starts thinking about how to repair it. There’s pride in that. Competence. Skill. What he cannot fix is the moment that broke his life. Odie carries grief quietly. He carries stubbornness loudly. He carries humor as a shield. He is not a saint, and he i

ODIE started with a simple question: what does it actually take to get off the street? Not in theory. Not in policy. In a single day. The film follows Owen “Odie” Harper, an unhoused handyman in Austin who has waited nearly a year for a long-term shelter bed. On the morning he’s finally supposed to check in, the rules shift. The shelter relocates. He needs updated ID. He needs medical clearance. He has until 9 p.m. curfew. Miss it, and the opportunity disappears. That’s the s