Meet Michael Huntington

We caught up with the brilliant and insightful Michael Huntington a few weeks ago and have shared our conversation below.

Alright, so we’re so thrilled to have Michael with us today – welcome and maybe we can jump right into it with a question about one of your qualities that we most admire. How did you develop your work ethic? Where do you think you get it from?

I was born in Enid, Oklahoma, in 1996 to my parents, Brenda and Mark Huntington. Though I have many siblings—a story for another time—I grew up alongside two: Shawn and Krista.

Krista, a few years my senior, felt like a little sister to me. She faced challenges due to a learning disability that affected her development. Despite this, we formed a close bond at a young age, becoming best friends and spending countless hours immersed in movies together.

Shawn, my older brother, embodied a coolness that was hard to ignore. With his stylish attire, laid-back demeanor, and an entourage of equally cool friends, he was someone I looked up to. Growing up, I aspired to be just like him, and even now, 28 years later, I still find myself wanting to emulate his self-confidence and characteristics.

My father still remains a mystery to me. Although he was physically present during my childhood, he often felt distant. It wasn’t until later in life that I learned he struggled with a drug addiction—a truth he worked hard to conceal from me. I remained unaware of that aspect of his life until he passed away when I was 13.

Ultimately, it was drugs that claimed my father’s life. Throughout my childhood, he was frequently in and out of hospitals, or bedridden at home. During those difficult times, I took on the role of caregiver; when he needed food, I was there. When he wanted a friend, I was there. Whenever he needed anything, I was there.

My dad couldn’t play catch or teach me how to work on cars, but I know he deeply yearned to be the father he never had. While he couldn’t fulfill the roles that I saw my friends’ dads embody, he became someone I could confide in completely. He was a great conversationalist and highly educated, and I often think that, had he been around longer, he would have made an excellent therapist.

My daily routine with Dad began with waking up before school to check on him and see if he needed anything. After school, I would prepare him a bowl of ramen and sit on his bed, sharing stories about my day. Later in the evening, we would watch a movie together.

Those nights spent watching films with my dad were the highlights of my childhood. Without those moments, I wouldn’t be where I am today. He introduced me to the world of cinema, teaching me what movies were, what a director did, and why films held such significance. For those two hours of each film, we escaped reality; in those moments, my dad wasn’t sick or bedridden. Those hours meant everything to me, and if I could have just two more hours with my old man to watch another movie, it would mean the world.

Then there was my mother—the hardest-working, most selfless person I have ever known. Throughout my childhood, she worked around the clock, leaving it to my brother to care for me while my dad struggled with his addiction.

As a waitress, her days were long, and her mornings early. While many would come home and unwind after work, my mother did the opposite. She always made sure we had dinner, stepping in to take care of us, before taking care of herself. Once my mother got home, I clocked out of taking care of Dad, and she clocked in.

My mother’s remarkable ability to adhere to a routine, persevere through life’s challenges, and never give up is truly inspiring. She is undoubtedly the source of my work ethic. Now, at the age of 64, she continues to work full-time, taking on 12-hour shifts to care for others. There is no quit in her, no settling for “good enough.”

My mother is not just my inspiration; she is my hero. I couldn’t be more grateful to be her son. When life gets tough, I think of her unwavering spirit and the way she never gave up on anything.

Great, so let’s take a few minutes and cover your story. What should folks know about you and what you do?

As a kid, I thought simply saying, “I want to be a filmmaker” would be enough to get me where I needed to be. But as life has a way of showing you, the road to your dreams is never that straightforward.

I’ve always felt fortunate to know from a young age exactly what I wanted: to make movies. So many people spend their early adult years searching for that purpose, some never find it. But for me, from the moment I was swept up in a fictional world, I knew. There’s a certain magic in those few hours of escaping reality, of creating an experience that pulls someone into another world. Movies were my drug, and I was constantly hooked.

My taste in films was all over the place, from Happy Gilmore to The Facility. I loved comedies that made me laugh until I cried and thrillers that kept me awake at night, wondering if I was living in that world too. Life growing up was always changing, but movies were my constant. They were reliable, my safe haven, a place where I had control over the chaos.

I’ll never forget the moment the illusion shattered for me—the moment I realized people actually made movies. As a kid, I naively believed people were just living these experiences, and a camera crew just happened to be there to capture it. I know, it sounds silly now, but back then, that’s how I saw it.

One night, my older cousin was staying over at our house. While I was upstairs, I kept hearing the looping music from a DVD menu. Annoyed, I went downstairs and found her asleep. Curious, I hit play and sat down. The film started, and I saw it was in black and white. My first instinct was to turn it off, but just as I reached for the remote, something happened. A man rolled up some metal shutters, and a fire burst out inside the Quick Stop store. Suddenly, this wasn’t just some black-and-white movie—the flames were vivid, the colors glowing brighter. The music picked up, and I was introduced to two characters: Dante and Randall.

These two fools became my best friends. After school, we’d hang out, and at night, we’d hang out again. Dante and Randall were such a huge part of my adolescence that I knew Clerks II like the back of my hand. I even challenged myself to recite the entire dialogue as the movie played—if I messed up, I’d start over from the beginning.

One of the last movies I watched with my dad was Zack and Miri Make a Porno. I probably wasn’t supposed to be watching it, but, as I mentioned before, my dad wasn’t like other dads. If it had comedy, we were watching it. He knew how obsessed I was with Clerks II, so I like to think he made a point of watching Zack and Miri with me on purpose. Halfway through, he casually mentioned that the guy who made this movie also made Clerks II. I was confused—I didn’t really understand what directors did or how they could make multiple movies. Or how writers crafted stories. But once my dad shared that little nugget of information, I was hooked. I had to see everything this director made.

From the original Clerks to Chasing Amy and Dogma, I was completely obsessed—not just with the films, but with the man behind them. Watching the Evening with Kevin Smith DVDs, I got a real sense of his passion for filmmaking and his unapologetic attitude toward it. He told the stories he wanted to tell, without waiting for permission or seeking approval. That fearless mindset was exactly what I wanted to channel. I wanted to be like Kevin Smith and make my own movies.

That passion burned bright for a long time. I made movies with my friends, burning them to DVDs, and every single time, I’d race upstairs, full of excitement, to show my dad. It didn’t matter if it was a horror film or a simple slideshow of cars—I always wanted to share it with him first. His pride in me was obvious, and his reactions were something I craved. There was nothing like seeing him light up at something I created. He was always my first audience, my biggest fan.

But not long after I discovered my love for filmmaking, my dad passed away. It was like the spark inside me went out. Suddenly, there was no one to run upstairs to, no one to share that rush of excitement with. Without him, I lost my motivation to create. The joy I once felt making movies disappeared, and for a long time, that passion just faded into the background, waiting for a reason to come back.

Throughout my childhood and into high school, I always struggled. I didn’t want to be at school, didn’t care to learn what they were teaching, and lacked motivation. In 10th grade, I finally stopped going altogether. At the time, I didn’t care about my future or having a career. I just didn’t want to be in that building anymore, so I left.

Years went by, and what should have been my graduation year came and went without me. I watched my friends walk across the stage, their faces beaming with joy as they hugged their proud parents and threw their caps into the air. The weight of failure hit me hard, and I realized I didn’t want to be a high school dropout anymore.

When the next school year began, I called the school to see if I could come back. I was 19, had never earned enough credits, and was now two years behind. The principal told me that it would be better to pursue a GED instead. He was right—it was the most logical option—but at the time, it felt like a slap in the face. I hung up, unsure of what to do next.

As an adult, I knew I had to do the practical thing and get a job. So, that’s what I did. After spending six months as a cashier at McDonald’s, I quit, wanting something different, and applied to Dollar Tree. What I didn’t realize at the time was how life-changing that decision would be.

That job gave me everything, in ways I never expected. It’s where I met my partner, Brittany Benedict, who was the new assistant manager for the summer. We quickly became great co-workers, then close friends, and, a year later, we started dating. Brittany was finishing her last year of college, which meant she would need to move two hours away. She asked if I wanted to come with her, and I did.

Moving to a new city was challenging, especially since I had only ever known small-town life. But it turned out to be the push I needed to pursue filmmaking again. Together, Brittany and I found a supportive community and started making films. We began by entering the annual 48-hour film competitions, creating our own short films, and now we’re working on feature-length projects. Since 2018, Brittany and I have been making movies—and we have no plans to stop.

If you had to pick three qualities that are most important to develop, which three would you say matter most?

Community: Without finding your people—or as my friend Jake Daniels calls it, your “soul tribe”—your journey will be much harder. I’ve learned throughout my career that you can’t do everything on your own. While working solo might seem like the easiest option, especially when communication feels difficult, the value of finding people who share your creative vision is immeasurable. Keep those people close; they’ll be your greatest asset.

Consistency: The only way to get better is to keep doing the work. You should always be practicing what you want to pursue. There will be times when it feels impossible, or when you doubt yourself compared to others in your field. But listening to that inner critic leads nowhere. You’ll only regret not continuing. I accepted long ago that it might take years to reach my goals, and I embrace that journey. I encourage you to do the same.

Criticism—the right kind: When you’re starting out, you’ll face criticism, and the internet can be a harsh place for creatives. You’ll encounter not just trolls but also people who genuinely want to critique your work. Constructive criticism is invaluable, but I’ve learned not to listen to everyone. It’s a losing battle. My favorite quote to remember is: “Never take criticism from someone you wouldn’t take advice from.”

Looking back over the past 12 months or so, what do you think has been your biggest area of improvement or growth?

Without a doubt, it’s the people I’ve surrounded myself with—or more accurately, the people who have allowed me into their circle—that have made the difference. I’ve been pursuing filmmaking for nearly ten years, and only now am I finding myself in rooms with the people I’ve admired from the very beginning. While I’d like to credit hard work for that, and I do believe it plays a part, I think timing has been just as crucial. Whenever I saw an opportunity to advance my career, I seized it.

Coming from a background of intense anxiety, new experiences have always terrified me. As cliché as it sounds, it’s like that line from Eminem: “One shot, one opportunity.” I was able to get in the room because someone believed in me, and now that I’ve been given that opportunity, I plan to stay here for as long as I can—because I love it

After the whirlwind of 2024, I’ve come to realize just how much I’ve learned—not just about my craft, but about myself. My peers, my partners at Mediaverse, and the experiences we’ve shared have all been invaluable teachers. They’ve shown me the power of collaboration, resilience, and the importance of never losing sight of your passion. Most importantly, I’ve discovered that the fire inside me still burns brighter than ever, fueled by an insatiable desire for growth. The journey is far from over, and I’m more committed than ever to pushing the boundaries of what I can achieve!

Contact Info:

• Website: https://michaelhuntington.com/
• Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/michaelhuntington_/
• Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/CINTREEFILMS
• Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@MediaverseStudios

Image Credits

Main Picture: Nick Ford
BTS: Jacob Daniels