It all started with a few simple questions:

Could we make a film without asking for permission? Could we write and shoot from the hip and capture our lived reality? Could we steal

Hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of production value?

These questions became both a challenge and a guiding principle for GIVE IT UP. From the outset, I wanted to make a movie that captured the authentic energy of stand-up comedy, the thrill of a packed room, and the gut-wrenching reality of a true bomb.

To achieve that, we made the decision to film GIVE IT UP on the road. Lucky for us, my co-writer and lead actor Gareth Reynolds is an internationally touring comedian. Instead of renting locations or staging crowds, we hit the road with him, turning his real tour into the film’s production. We greenlit ourselves. In the most organic of ways, we wrote the story about what we had access to. We stole every major location, using actual comedy clubs as our sets, and recruited nearly a thousand real audience members to act in the production. This was not just about saving money (although it was definitely about saving money); it was also about capturing reality. We wanted audiences to feel the intimate, sometimes brutal relationship between a headliner and their audience.

Filming on tour came with its own logistical madness. Gareth would often have to pause a show about eighty percent of the way through to address the crowd. He would say, “This is about to be really weird, but trust me, it’s for something we’re making and you're gonna love it.” Audiences, for the most part, were thrilled to be part of the experiment. In the age of social media, multiple camera operators at comedy shows hardly raise an eyebrow.

A central element of the story is Gareth’s character, Mortimer, chasing viral fame while on tour. That drive reflects a reality many artists face today, trying to please some faceless equation that judges art and effort. Mortimer’s obsession with online attention and fleeting internet validation mirrors the pressures that come with creating in the digital age, where success can feel arbitrarily measured and deeply impersonal.

The heart of the film, however, emerges through Maggie Maye’s character, Susie. Her friendship with Mortimer becomes the emotional anchor of the story and ultimately reframes what success means. Through that relationship, Mortimer begins to understand that fulfillment does not come from chasing virality or appeasing an algorithm. It comes from making work with the people that you love, the people who make you laugh, challenge you, and remind you why you started creating in the first place.

The further we drift from that truth, the more disconnected and unhappy we become as artists.

We relied on luck, serendipity, and the generosity of strangers who welcomed cameras into their spaces. We did not aim for perfection. We aimed for truth. “it’s funny ‘cause it’s true,” so they say.

As studios merge, shrink, or disappear entirely, I genuinely believe we are on the cusp of a new boom in independent filmmaking. I believe the future of indie film is radically smaller, built around close groups of friends making work together and taking it directly to the people who want it. GIVE IT UP only exists because a group of friends decided to make something.

That is what this film ultimately stands for. Making things with your friends. Building something honest together. And remembering that the real point of art is not to chase the loudest possible reaction, but to connect, laugh, and create with the people beside you.

-Kyle Anderson

Director/Co-Writer