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Creating Postmortem with Postman

When the opportunity to move forward arrives at his doorstep, a mortician must decide whether to face the living, or replace the dead.

This story came to be when my partner and I were lying in bed one night, in 2019 listening to music. A Carpenters song came on. He said it was one of his favorites growing up. I instantly responded, “The Carpenters are haunting.” He pushed back, proceeding to play different tracks. I continued rattling off why each was unsettling. Finally, “Please, Mr. Postman” started. He said, “there’s no way this is horror.” At that moment, the story was clear in my head, and I began writing.

Just before COVID-19 shut down the world, the first working outline of Postman came to be. The more destruction the virus caused world-wide, the more I began to embrace my own relationship with death. I discovered that facing my own mortality was invigorating. We all have so much time on this earth, and I want to use all of my time as intentionally as possible. My fear of death has evolved into a complicated relationship which fuels my work ethic.

This story was important for me to create, as I needed to understand the science, the business, and the different coping mechanisms people use around the world to embrace loss.

What happens to a body after death is purely scientific, but the loss which loved ones suffer can cause even the most unassuming person to snap.

This is a story of holding onto what is no longer yours.

We are taught that if you love someone, you set them free and understand what’s yours will always return. That’s not an option postmortem.

In this tragic horror lullaby, we are met with Stephen, a reserved funeral home director, cursed by loss. Although he is lonely, he is not alone. Stephen keeps a select few embalmed corpses for company in his apartment above the parlor. One in particular, Thomas - his love.

Through a twist of fate, a postman, Peter, is assigned a new route, and he and Stephen begin their friendship.

When Thomas’s body begins to decay after years of preservation, Stephen must decide whether to face the living, or replace the dead.

Set to the music of The Carpenters in small town USA, we see the story of a man who’s love was lost, but kept, in this modern day Psycho.

Dark, suspenseful and richly character driven, Postman captures the fine line between benevolence and malevolence.

Anthony DiVastanzo (he/they) graduated from the Boston Conservatory in 2014 with a BFA in Theater.

After performing professionally for a number of years, DiVastanzo got on a plane in 2018 that almost went down in a wind storm. In that moment, it wasn’t his life that flashed before his eyes, but rather all of the things he had told himself he would do, but hadn’t - writing the films that were in their head. Everything started flowing. They had the vision, but needed to do the work. Since that moment, they’ve finished a number of projects and have had the privilege of workshopping a couple of them in New York with amazing actors from Broadway and TV, as well as up-and-coming producers.

When the pandemic hit, his hopes of becoming an accredited writer were paused, but after taking this year to hone in and refine each of the pieces in such a way that ties to his broader goals, he has won multiple awards for his work (Los Angeles Film Awards - Best Drama Screenplay, Best First Time Screenwriter, New York Film Awards - Best Screenplay Feature, Best First Time Screenwriter, Official Selection of the New York Independent Cinema Awards).

Through their work, they hope to push limits, set new boundaries and make queer art something that is embraced in the mainstream. We lost a generation of queer voices to the AIDS epidemic, and DiVastanzo feels so deeply that it is our generation who must work that much harder to ensure our stories are heard, told and celebrated.

Instagram: divastanzo


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1 Comment

Unknown member
Jun 12, 2021

I am very happy for you and very proud of all you have accomplished. I look forward to hearing about your future triumphs! Hugs from FrankenNun.

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