When Chris Stuckmann first started reviewing films on YouTube, it was a means of finding others who shared his passion for films and filmmaking. He never truly believed it'd lead to anything substantial, but he enjoyed it. So, he kept reviewing, discussing and analyzing film. As the years went by, the language he utilized to discuss the medium became evermore varied, complex and exact. In the same way he never thought anything would come of his YouTube channel, he similarly didn't think Shelby Oaks -- his feature directorial debut -- would garner much attention when he launched its Kickstarter campaign back in March 2022. However, by the campaign's end, not only had Shelby Oaks met its funding goal, but it nearly quintupled it as it garnered a staggering $1.39 million.
Not only is Shelby Oaks the most funded horror film on Kickstarter, but it's one of the top ten most funded film projects on the entire site. By any metric, Shelby Oaks' campaign was a phenomenal success, with nearly 15,000 total backers contributing to its ultimate total. From a cursory glance, it's easy to point to Stuckmann's notable following on YouTube as credence for this substantial support. At the time of writing, he's about to hit two million subscribers, so it makes logical sense. However, a more apt reason extends to not only his progression as a creative but as a human being as well.
In the last few years, Stuckmann's content has displayed a notable growth and maturity pertaining to criticism that's differentiated his channel from other movie reviewers on YouTube. For example, on the site, most movie reviewers do a "Top 10 Worst" and "Top 10 Best" list at the end of each year. Not wanting to contribute to a culture of overtly bagging on art, he ceased doing "Top 10 Worst" lists in 2018, deciding to solely focus on the films he loved that year. In doing this, Stuckmann sought to evolve how he thought of, discussed and treated film. After all, no artist wants to read a review where someone tears apart the thing they spent years of their life crafting.
From certain viewers' perspectives, this might be odd. Hate, rage, anger -- these emotions draw eyeballs. Succinctly, hate makes money. When viewers see a film that doesn't work for them, there's a desire to find others who feel the same way, and there's nothing wrong with that. It's totally natural. Anger isn't a bad thing; hatred isn't a bad thing. They're feelings, and feelings must be felt. However, there is constructively critiquing a film and there is tearing a film apart from the inside out. Prior to 2017, Stuckmann sometimes tore into films he greatly disliked, and there's no shame in that. However, wanting to cultivate a community of film lovers, he distanced himself from "rage-for-views" reviews.
Instead of getting upset when a film didn't compliment his tastes, Stuckmann either didn't review it or found satisfaction in what the experience gave him. No review of his more accurately represents this phenomenon than his review of 2019's Playing With Fire. In the review, Stuckmann ironically speaks of the film and how it's one of the greatest pieces of cinema ever put to celluloid. This review's quite entertaining on the surface. However, a deeper sincerity blossoms out of this mostly ironic review, and that is: Everything's enjoyed by someone. Some things just aren't made for certain people, and that's all right. However, every earnest film has worth, and every earnest film deserves respect. No one ever sets out to make something deficient.
Beyond his progression as a student of film, Stuckmann began sharing greatly intimate stories and experiences with his audience. Most notably, he revealed in an hour-long 2021 video that he was once a Jehovah's Witness (JW). In sharing this, he delineated a myriad of traumatic experiences that adversely affected his life. Primarily, he communicated that being a JW meant he couldn't review films or be a filmmaker. In essence, two parts core to his being were at war with one another. As he entered his 20s, the understanding that he couldn't pursue his dreams or discuss film due to the dogma of the religion he was born into caused a deep depression.
Once he realized the JW doctrine was slowly erasing his identity, Stuckmann left the faith at great personal cost. When a JW leaves the faith, they're greatly shamed and shunned by their former community. All members of that faith are instructed not to interact with the excommunicated, and that includes the former JW's immediate family. As he's sharing these truths, viewers can almost visually see the alleviation of weight on Stuckmann's shoulders, and it's genuinely moving. Everyone has skeletons, horrors they've experienced that most people will never know. Thus, viewers can greatly empathize with Stuckmann's conveyance of trauma.
In tandem with his growth as a critic, this veritable "coming out" video cemented viewers' further admiration of Stuckmann. Though he used to tear into films, he no longer does. Though he used to hide his truth, he no longer does. Seeing someone confidently and directly discuss their previous behavior and make a conscious choice to evolve is admirable. Witnessing someone relive what's no doubt a series of extremely upsetting memories is, likewise, commendable. Each of these laudable occurrences exemplified a singular concept: Vulnerability. Stuckmann's secret weapon isn't just his tact or charisma but his ability to be true.
Being vulnerable doesn't come easy to most people. Almost everyone has trauma, old tapes that play in their head that tell them they need to hide their parts. Everyone wants to fit in, and if they don't know, they can't judge. When Stuckmann tells of awful childhood experiences, he's certainly more than a little worried this won't be accepted by his audience. After all, he's the "movie reviewer guy," so why would anyone care? The thing is, especially given the overwhelmingly supportive response to his JW video, people legitimately care. Sharing something painful enables someone you've never met from somewhere you've never been to find emotional recognition in your lived experience. Pain is a universal language.
Suffering is an unavoidable aspect of the human experience. To see Stuckmann share such intimate suffering with hundreds of thousands of people is not only courageous, but it fills out the edges of his humanity. Of course, he's a person regardless of his choice to reveal such information. However, to viewers, he's more recognizable as someone they can relate to through his disclosing of previously experienced pain. Complex people are inherently attractive and relatable because they reflect a ubiquitous complexity present in everyone. That's why people showed up to support Stuckmann and his vision for Shelby Oaks.
Ultimately, a notable portion of Shelby Oaks' success on Kickstarter is a direct result of Stuckmann's willingness to be wholly, valiantly authentic. His evolution as a critic and as a person is both inspiring and motivating. Generally speaking, people have a desire to support those they deem honest -- both emotionally and otherwise. When Stuckmann launched the Shelby Oaks Kickstarter campaign, it was as if an old friend was asking for help in achieving their dreams. Through the years of tactful reviews and forthright disclosures, Stuckmann and his passion gained a reputation of virtuous honor.
In conjunction with the captivating concept of Shelby Oaks, many fans found supporting Stuckmann's dream to be an absolute no-brainer. As principal photography on Shelby Oaks has officially wrapped, backers and fans alike are eager to see what Stuckmann and Aaron B. Koontz of Paper Street Pictures have in store. No matter how the film ultimately turns out, it's certain to be unique, met with glee and an uncompromising consilience of Stuckmann's eclectic imagination.
Though the Kickstarter's concluded, the production is still accepting backers. Fans can still support Stuckmann, Shelby Oaks and gain access to some excellent rewards on Kickstarter.