Welcome back to Plumb News, where the thrill of genre storytelling meets the truth of faith. For those of you who know my background as a stunt coordinator, action designer, and filmmaker, you know my heart is to create value-aligned, high-intensity films. As my friend always reminds me: “Be the job-creator, not the job-seeker.” That’s why much of my energy is now focused on generating features—films that not only entertain but also make people think.

This week, we’re spotlighting our own project, the anti-drug thriller Prey for Mason, and exploring how the Christian worldview is uniquely equipped to understand and explore the roots of cinematic fear.

M. Night Shyamalan's slow-burn thriller is less about aliens and more about a former priest wrestling with loss and renewed belief. The tension is atmospheric, not gory, and the plot hinges on a profound moment of serendipitous faith. A great watch for the family, with a simple yet deep message.

Directed by Wes Craven, this fast-paced mid-air thriller proves you don’t need blood to raise the stakes. It's a tight cat-and-mouse game focused on moral clarity and resilience, as a young woman must choose between cooperating with a terrorist plot and saving her father. All the edge, none of the excess.

The horror genre is often misunderstood, but at its best, it can serve as a powerful cautionary tale. I’m deep in development on a feature film called Prey for Mason. It’s a teen horror/thriller centered around the drug Flakka, but its core is a subtle, anti-drug, cautionary tale. The goal isn't to shock, but to explore the true horror of addiction and its consequences.

One of Plumb News’ goals will be to empower you the audience to participate in the stories you want to see made.

The Christian worldview grants us a unique lens for understanding films like Prey for Mason—stories that explore destructive choices.

When a character chooses a path of addiction, greed, or violence in a thriller, they are acting out the core premise of the Gospel: Free will has real and terrifying consequences. Horror doesn't just scare us; it shows us the moral chasm—the true "terror" that results from separation from God's wisdom and goodness.

We watch these films not to be traumatized, but to experience a safe rehearsal for confronting evil. It reminds us that true horror is self-inflicted—the moral compromise, the loss of agency, the broken spirit. When the character turns toward the light, or finds redemption (like the theme in Signs), the fear is not just resolved; it's redeemed. That is the theological power of the genre.

Until next time,

THE PLUMB NEWS TEAM