The film could seem a high-adrenaline story about Vaughn Shafer attempting a world record on a motorized skateboard but it evolves into something deeper about life, death, and meaning. How did you obtain this narrative?

When we began, the intention really was to document a high adrenaline pursuit. Vaughn chasing a world record on a motorized skateboard felt like a story about speed, danger, and defying age. But once we committed to following him over time, life started shaping the narrative for us. Setbacks at the track, near misses, and personal losses began stacking up. Instead of forcing a predefined arc, we let the camera stay on through those moments. That is when the film revealed what it actually wanted to be. It became less about the record itself and more about why people keep chasing something meaningful even when the risks are real and the outcome is uncertain.

Vaughn is a 62-year-old daredevil defying expectations. What drew you to him as a subject, and how did you capture both his physical feats and his emotional journey?

Vaughn first came onto my radar through Nicholas Costello, who brought the story to my attention and immediately recognized there was something deeper there than just speed or spectacle. What drew me in was that Vaughn is impossible to reduce to a stereotype. On the surface he is a daredevil, but underneath that is a deeply thoughtful and reflective person who has lived several lives already. I was fascinated by how someone in their sixties still carries unfinished business from their youth. Capturing that meant balancing the spectacle with intimacy. We filmed the speed and danger honestly, but we also stayed present for the raw human emotion and real drama that unfolded within the crew. Conversations after failed runs, long nights in the shop, moments of doubt, frustration, and vulnerability were all caught on film and became just as important as the physical feats.

The passing of Brett’s father, Louis Buescher, during production had a profound impact on the film. And death’s traumas are a strong point of connection with Vaughn Shafer in the film. How did your personal loss reshape the story and your approach as filmmakers?

Losing my father during production changed everything. He was not just a subject in the film, he was part of the team and a mentor to all of us. His passing forced us to confront grief while the cameras were still rolling. That experience shifted the lens of the film from achievement to meaning. Vaughn and I were both navigating loss in different ways, and that created a deeper connection between us. As filmmakers, we stopped chasing moments and instead allowed space for them. The story became about how people carry loss forward and keep moving, even when the road changes completely.

Documenting extreme sports often comes with technical and safety challenges. What were some of the most difficult sequences to film, and how did you ensure both safety and cinematic impact?

The most difficult sequences were the high speed runs themselves. We were dealing with real danger, limited windows, mechanical variables, and unpredictable conditions. Safety always came first because we were the crew standing in those positions. From a filmmaking standpoint, the challenge was staying close enough to feel the speed without putting ourselves in harm’s way. Some of the camera mounts we wanted to use would have delivered incredible shots, but they also carried real risk. If a mount failed at those speeds, it could have ended up in the path of the dragboard or resulted in a serious collision. We had to make difficult decisions to walk away from certain shots we really wanted in order to protect one another. We relied instead on long lenses, strategic camera placement, and a lot of trust within our team. The goal was to let the audience feel the tension and velocity while never compromising safety.

DRIVEN BY ANGELS balances adrenaline, tragedy, and reflection. How did you approach editing and pacing to maintain tension while allowing moments of introspection?

Editing was about intention and trust in the material. We wanted the adrenaline to hit hard, but the moments of reflection are what give the speed meaning. By allowing scenes to breathe and using silence and stillness alongside motion, we were able to maintain tension while giving the audience space to process what was really at stake. This has honestly been one of the more challenging parts for us. We have so much great footage left on the cutting room floor. This could easily be a 3-4 part docuseries with Vaughn’s history going all the way back to the 80’s.

Skateboarding and action sports culture are central to the film. How did your background in documenting underground skate crews influence the visual style and energy of the documentary?

My background filming skate videos definitely shaped the energy and visual language of the film. Skateboarding is very run and gun, and it trains you to stay light, react quickly, and catch raw moments you cannot plan for. We leaned into a raw, observational style to keep things grounded and honest rather than overproduced. Music was just as critical. In skate videos, music carries the emotion because there are very few talking heads, and that taught me how to capture feeling through rhythm and tone. We used a wide range of songs with different pacing so the film never feels stale, letting the music drive emotion, tension, and momentum in the same way it does in skate culture.

The film’s team dynamics, especially Vaughn’s crew, play a significant role. How did you capture authentic interactions under the pressure of setbacks and loss?

Authenticity came from the fact the film crew was also Vaughn’s pit crew. We were present long before anything went wrong, working alongside Vaughn through the long days, the setbacks, and the losses. Because of that, the cameras were never an intrusion, they were simply part of the environment. When emotions ran high, we did not ask anyone to perform or explain how they felt. We stayed close and listened. Under that kind of pressure, people reveal who they really are, and those unguarded moments became some of the most powerful parts of the film.

Working with co-directors, a cinematographer, and a secondary director can be complex. How did collaboration shape the storytelling and the way you portrayed Vaughn’s journey?

Collaboration was essential. Everyone brought a different perspective, and that helped prevent the story from becoming one dimensional. Having multiple directors and a strong cinematographer meant we could cover both the technical demands of the action and the emotional undercurrent happening off to the side. We challenged each other constantly, especially in the edit, to stay honest and not romanticize things unnecessarily. That collective push made the film stronger and more balanced.

DRIVEN BY ANGELS has been selected for 27 international festivals and won multiple awards. How has audience reaction varied across different countries and cultures, and what has surprised you most?

Audience reactions have been incredibly moving and surprisingly consistent across cultures. While the specifics of dragboarding are unfamiliar to many viewers, the themes of aging, loss, and unfinished purpose resonate everywhere. What surprised me most is how often people approach us to talk about their own grief or personal turning points. The film seems to open a door for those conversations, regardless of language or background.

Looking back, what do you hope viewers take away from Vaughn’s story—not just as a tale of speed, but as a reflection on risk, life and resilience?

I hope viewers walk away thinking about why they chase the things they care about and what gives their lives meaning. Vaughn’s story is not really about speed or records. It is about showing up again after loss, after fear, and after time has passed. If the film encourages someone to keep going, to honor the people they have lost, or to take one more honest run at something that matters to them, then it has done its job.