BRITTNEY:

How was the journey of The Ace of Fadez — especially with the pandemic. How did that season impact the film?

 

J. MITCHELL:

Honestly, the pandemic hit The Ace of Fadez hard. We had already started shooting toward the end of 2019, and the original plan was to release it in 2020 — that’s actually where the 2020 Filmz name came from. But once everything shut down, the film had to change — and so did I.

 

Crew shifted. Cast changed. Resources disappeared. The script got rewritten so many times that eventually… I threw it out completely. I stopped trying to control the story and just let the Universe rewrite it. I leaned into what I did have instead of what I lost, and I built from the resources I was enlightened to use in each moment.

 

At that point, budget didn’t matter. Time didn’t matter. Pressure didn’t matter. What mattered was staying present and staying faithful.

 

BRITTNEY:

That takes a lot of trust — letting go of the script entirely.

 

J. MITCHELL:

It really does. But once I surrendered, everything flowed. The title 2020 Filmz took on a double meaning. It wasn’t just about the year anymore — it became about vision. About seeing clearly even when the world felt upside down.

 

2020 challenged everybody. Fear, uncertainty, isolation — it was all magnified. But that’s what made this project more profound. It taught me that what’s meant to be will be — no matter how many obstacles show up. You just have to have faith and keep it choppin’. That became my mantra while making the film, and eventually it became a theme woven into the story itself.

 

BRITTNEY:

We talked before and you described the film as overlooked, even counted out. How did you navigate that?

 

J. MITCHELL:

The Ace of Fadez was definitely counted out. Overlooked. Misunderstood. And honestly, I was okay with that. The only festival I ever really envisioned was Sundance. That was the one. I later found out they had been trying to reach me for weeks before I even responded.

 

But when I sat with it, I realized something — this film wasn’t aligned with Sundance. No disrespect at all. Sundance is incredible. I’ll probably make something one day that fits that world. But The Ace of Fadez is raw. It’s edgy. It’s rough around the edges. It doesn’t ask for permission.

 

And being my first film, of course I made mistakes. Plenty of them. But that’s how you learn. That’s how you grow. That’s how you sharpen the blade. You don’t stop because it’s imperfect — you keep it choppin’.

 

BRITTNEY:

So what does The Ace of Fadez ultimately represent to you now?

 

J. MITCHELL:

It represents faith in motion. Creation without guarantees. Trust without applause. It’s proof that you don’t need perfect conditions to make something meaningful — you just need purpose, patience, and the courage to keep going when the vision doesn’t make sense yet.

 

That’s what this film is. And that’s what I lived by while making it.

​

Brittney:

In The Ace of Fadez, there’s a line where Ace says, “God has a wicked sense of humor.” What did you mean by that?

 

J. Mitchell:

That line comes from a very real place. It’s not meant to be disrespectful — it’s observational. Sometimes the lessons God teaches you aren’t loud or dramatic. They’re ironic. They make you pause and say, “Okay… I see what You did there.”

 

In the film, Ace parks in a handicap parking spot without thinking twice. Almost immediately, his car gets towed. Ironically, to get his car back, he now has to walk — a lot. That moment isn’t about punishment as much as awareness. As he’s walking, he starts reflecting. He realizes he temporarily took something meant for someone less fortunate, and now he’s experiencing inconvenience himself. It’s an out-of-alignment moment — one that carries a message without needing a sermon.

 

That’s where the humor comes in. It’s subtle. It’s satirical. It’s corrective, but still loving.

 

I believe God teaches like that sometimes.

 

What makes that line even more layered is that I was living that same irony while making the film.

 

Here I was calling myself The Ace of Fadez — while my cuts were probably at their weakest point ever. I had taken a long break from cutting hair and was deeply immersed in filmmaking. Cutting hair is a skill you never fully lose, kind of like riding a bike — but if you’re not putting in the reps, it shows. Your blends aren’t as clean. Your fades aren’t as crisp. Precision fades when practice fades.

 

And I wasn’t practicing.

 

I had even purchased a barbershop and wasn’t cutting in it at all. I was the owner, collecting booth rent. At one point, I was so detached that the woman I was with at the time was picking up the rent for me. I rarely stepped foot in the shop unless there was a problem that needed handling.

 

So here I am — making a movie about the barber I used to be… while no longer fully being that barber.

 

That was the satire.

That was the humor.

 

God had me creating a film about craftsmanship, discipline, and identity — while gently showing me where I had drifted from those same principles. It wasn’t mocking. It was revealing.

 

That’s what Ace means when he says God has a wicked sense of humor. It’s not cruel. It’s clarifying. It’s the kind of humor that humbles you, recenters you, and invites you back into alignment — if you’re willing to see it.

 

And that’s really what The Ace of Fadez is about underneath it all:

Not perfection — but awareness.

Not ego — but honesty.

And not losing your gift — but remembering that it sharpens when you honor it.