The Silver Screen Is Also A Mirror

By Daniel Lee

Kyle Alex Brett remembers the exact moment everything changed. He was standing on a New York City sidewalk in 2017, having just walked out of a screening of Get Out, and all he could think was: “How do I get to LA?” At the time, Brett was a corporate lawyer — a job he’d taken after being seduced by the wrong movie (Michael Clayton) and abandoning his creative dreams.

“failure and regret get kind of weighted the same...regret is such a great risk...failure is a finite risk. you just have to recover what you lost...but on the other hand, regret is an exponential risk.”

But Jordan Peele’s horror masterpiece didn’t just entertain him; it devastated him. It was a reminder of everything he’d given up, a perfect film that felt like a mirror reflecting the creative life he could have lived. That night, standing on that sidewalk, Brett made a decision that would completely reshape his trajectory.

What followed was not a straight line, but a masterclass in strategic persistence. Brett applied to every entertainment law job in New York and was rejected by all but one. Three months after the sidewalk epiphany, he took a 50% paycut to transition from corporate law to entertainment law. He moved laterally through firms, then to Netflix, then to Blumhouse — the company behind Get Out.

For a year, he stayed up late reading scripts that weren’t technically his responsibility, sending detailed notes to the creative team every morning at 7:00 a.m. without fail. He attended a random Tuesday night play in Glendale just for the chance to sit in a car with Blumhouse’s President of Film. He created a speaker series that eventually led to him interviewing his idol, Barry Jenkins, on stage. Each move was calculated, each opportunity seized. Brett calls these rare moments “portals”: short, improbable windows of time that you either walk through or watch close forever.

Today, Brett is a Creative Executive who has worked on numerous horror and genre films, directed his own short, and built a career that finally aligns with the kid who used to waste all his parents’ printer paper rewriting the movies he rented from Blockbuster. But his journey isn’t a simple “follow your dreams” story. It’s about the concentric circles approach to impossible goals, about the difference between finite failure and compounding regret, and about what happens when you stop trying to knock on the front door and start looking for the neighbor’s basement instead.

With his vivid style of storytelling and vast repository of movie references, Brett opens up about the films that changed his life, the strategic moves that got him from corporate law to creative exec, his philosophy on risk and regret, and what it really takes to build a creative career when the front door stays locked.

Note: This interview was edited for length and clarity. You can find the full video interview here.

How long has that creative side been a part of you?

I do not know life without creativity, to be honest with you. When I was a kid, I used to read every single Goosebumps book, like every single one. And then when they started doing Choose Your Own Adventure, I read those. I also read the Fear Street books. And then I think I graduated to Harry Potter. My town had a bookstore called R.J. Julia, and for some reason, they were selling the book at midnight. I think it was the third book. So I went at midnight to pick up the book, and I stayed up for the whole day just reading.

So for me, the first introduction to creativity was reading books, but then around that same time, my family got our first computer, and with it came the first printer. And … you remember the perforated paper? It didn’t come in individual sheets like it does now; the one long roll of paper.

We used to have that paper, and every Friday night or so we’d go to Blockbuster. And I would always rent a movie, sometimes a video game. And then, unbeknownst to my parents, after I watched the movie, I would go upstairs to the family computer and rewrite the movie I had seen. Sometimes I’d change things, or I’d put myself in stuff. And then at some point, my parents were like, “Yo, why are you wasting all of our paper?”

​I was just wasting all this paper writing these crazy stories. But shout out to my parents, cause they saw what I was actually doing and actually started buying me more paper. And whenever I ran out, they would buy more. I could even go back to memories before that, but suffice it to say, I do not remember any life without a love of books, a love of movies, and a love of writing. Creativity and I have been best buddies for as long as I can remember.

That's awesome. So you wrote a short story in college that was recognized to some degree, right? What was the story about?

Damn, your research is insane.

It’s funny because that story is a big reason why I’m here today. But that story was about — I’m sure your audience knows what a sundown town is. And so my story was called “Sundown,” but instead of the Klan coming out to get this town of black people, there were real ghosts who would come out and attack the town. And it was about how the town responded to this supernatural presence.

To me, it had a lot of shadows of what I ended up liking about Get Out, but really, it was like Sinners in the sense that these black people were in a barn or a house-type structure, and they’re being attacked from the outside by the supernatural force. But Ryan Coogler’s thing was vampires, and my thing was ghosts. And it was supposed to be a metaphor, but I really loved it.

What made you want to practice law?

Honestly, bro, it was really my love of movies, which is crazy, considering I was so wrong. But after I wrote that story, I saw Tony Gilroy’s Michael Clayton, and I was just so blown away by that movie. It was the best movie I’d ever seen at the time. And I was like, ‘I don’t want to be a writer; I want to be a fixer at a corporate law firm and go around and do espionage-related things.’

I wish I could say I always wanted to be a lawyer, but no — I saw a movie and thought I wanted to be George Clooney. And then I went to law school and landed at a corporate law firm and realized I’d made a very big mistake. I said to myself, “Oh my God, you abandoned your writing dream, and you have made a huge life error, and you need to figure out how to reverse it.”

I always want to make sure I say it delicately, but mind you, I didn’t consider myself a huge film person. Like, I’d go to the movies every Friday in high school, so I was a big movie person in that I’d frequent the movies, but I had never seen a movie that was not only scored in a way that I loved — this indie mumblecore kind of soundtrack — but it’s also this like black love story. I had never seen anyone combine the two before.

And it was really smart, and it was the first movie I’d ever seen where the protagonist [Micah] was kinda insecure and frustrated, but he was also yearning, and he was a good person. He was interesting and funny. I don’t know, I saw myself a lot in that character.

And then I later came to learn that there was a rich tradition of Black independent cinema (shout out to the LA Rebellion), but I had never seen it before. So Medicine for Melancholy was my first time really seeing these archetypes of black people exist in these types of movies. And that was just such a light bulb for me. It took me a while to understand what to do with that. But it started to click that the types of movies that we can make are a lot richer than I thought they were, you know?

"3 things...proximity, you have to be conversant, and you have to be additive. You have to find who the decision maker is. Who is the person that could right now change your whole stuff?" - Kyle Alex brett

Yeah, definitely. And then seeing Get Out made you decide to go all in on film?

One thousand percent. When I tell people that Get Out was my favorite movie or was very important to me, I think they always assume I loved Get Out. And I do. But when I left the theatre after seeing it, I was so sad because I’d just seen this perfect movie, and I felt like, “damn, I could have done something like that,” you know?

And I didn’t. And I’m this corporate lawyer, and I fucking hate my job. And Jordan Peele stuck to his guns, making an incredible movie that was not only great but also literally changed the horror genre.

So, I came out of that movie and realized I’d given up on my dream because I thought I wanted to do something. But then I go to this theatre, and it’s like, “Look at what your dream could have turned into.” Get Out is a perfect movie, but it’s also so demoralizing because it just felt like a reminder of what I had abandoned.

And it haunted me in a real way. But with this realization staring me in the face, I also knew that I had a chance to get it back. And I knew I’d never forgive myself if I just remained a corporate lawyer and didn’t somehow figure out how to circle back to that dream.

So you're in New York working in corporate law. You watch this film. You feel all these feelings. What happens next?

I came out of that movie, and I can remember standing on the sidewalk, and I was like, “How do I get to LA?” I figured that I needed to quit this job and get into entertainment law because that’s the closest thing to where I wanted to be. So I just applied to every single entertainment law job in New York, and I got rejected by all of them except this one firm [Cowan, DeBaets, Abrahams & Sheppard]. It was a great time there. And from there, I went to another firm called Schreck Rose — also a very good firm. And then from there I went to Netflix.

I'm actually glad that you told that story that way because it’s important for people to know that the path isn’t always a straight line.

You made a decision and you got rejected, but that wasn’t the end of the road. That feeling continued to burn inside you regardless of rejection, and you had to figure it out.

Yeah, a thousand percent. I don’t wanna say never, but like, whatever your goal is, it’s very rare that a direct attack works, you know? I always say that if you wanna attack something, you always gotta plan to get five steps around it.

I can’t go through the front door, but maybe if I can get into the neighbor’s basement, I can then crawl up to the attic from there. And then from there I can zip line down to that front door. I’ve never assumed that I’m gonna be able to go up to any door and knock on it and they’re gonna just let me in. That’s just not how I’ve ever experienced life.

I also feel that this thinking frees you up, because when you go to the front door and knock, and they slam the door in your face, it can be very demoralizing. It’s very challenging to simply get in through the front door. But if you tell yourself to just get in the neighborhood, that’s a little less anxiety-inducing. So, when I moved to LA, I was still not in a creative role, but I was in LA, though. I’m getting closer.

And so I’ve always just been a person to ask myself if my goal is in the center, what’s on the periphery? What is that radius to the periphery? And then how do I get on that periphery? Maybe it’s even the bigger circle, like a bunch of concentric circles. It’s like, I just have to get to the outer ring first and then I can, you know, then get into the smaller ring and then I’ll get into the smaller ring. And then finally I’ll get into the middle one.

But yeah, I think for any goal, you want to be thinking in these concentric circles and just start with how to get to the outermost one.

In your experience, how did entertainment law differ from corporate law? Was there like a mental adjustment that you had to make? And if so, what was that like?

I have a certain life philosophy where, if you’re a smart, competent person, all these job requirements and qualifications are nonsense. If you just get the job, and you have training, and you have someone you can ask the questions to, you can do it. I don’t know if that’s my parents, but I’ve always believed that. Like I truly believe if I really wanted a job at NASA and if I really, really studied for it, I could probably do it.

But I don’t think there were any one-to-one skills from corporate law that translated perfectly to entertainment law. But I do give [my first law firm] Simpson credit for this: they made you like a vicious stickler for detail. If the period in this sentence were not where it was supposed to be, it would be a very big problem. If this paragraph is supposed to look like this and it doesn’t look like this, it’s a very big problem. You need to check every email you send out.

We used to do weird things like we’d write an email, proof it three times, then we’d read the last sentence first and we’d go backwards so your brain got out of the routine. I honestly feel like that has been the greatest skill set, more than anything I learned in corporate law or entertainment law. Attention to detail really matters, and you gotta be obsessive about that because that energy is gonna be translated into whoever’s reading the document. Maybe they won’t even consciously think about it, but it’s a perfect document. There’s nothing that distracts you from the point being communicated. I’ve taken that level of attention to detail with me even to today, honestly.

I could definitely see that. After that, you moved to Blumhouse as Director of Business and Legal Affairs for film. What was the process like getting that role?

Seen On The Scene Film Festival 2023

That one was crazy. Now, mind you, I didn’t wanna be a lawyer anymore after seeing Get Out, so the whole time I’m making these career moves, I’m also applying to be an assistant at some production company or some other creative position. I had no clue what any of it meant, but I was getting rejected from all that stuff, too. So when the Blumhouse offer came, I was like, “I want to stop being a lawyer. But if I get into Blumhouse, then damn, I’m so close to the team that made Get Out.”

Going back to that concentric circle idea, I will be in the building with the people who made this film that changed my life. And who knows what I can do once I’m in that circle, you know? That was my thought behind it. But the initial thing was just like a recruiter-type vibe where someone reached out and asked me if I’d be interested because I was at Netflix.

So you're in the building now, and a few years later, you get the Creative Executive role. How did that happen?

So, literally, in my second or third week there, the President of Film sent out a company-wide email asking if anyone was available to attend this play that night. The lead in the play was the wife of a really important director at Blumhouse. And so Cooper [the President] just wanted to show love.

And it was like a Tuesday or Wednesday at around 7:00 at night when he sent it, and the play was scheduled for 8:00 in Glendale. And I was just like, “damn, yo, this might be my only opportunity to have one-on-one time with the President of Film. I should just go.”

Then, after the play, he asked if he could give me a ride home. And I was like, “Yeah, sure. I would love that.” And so we’re in the car and he’s like, “Okay, like who are you? Like we didn’t really know each other.” And I was like, “Hi, I’m Kyle. I just joined Legal.” And he’s like, “that can’t be your story.”

And I tell people all the time, there are moments where you’re going to be in what I call a portal. And a portal is just an opportunity that, on average, will not happen again. The circumstances are just really odd. I’m probably never gonna be alone in the car with the President of Film ever again. And still I haven’t to this day. It’s just the way things go. And so I just remember being like, “Yo, you’re in this portal. Like who cares?”

So I was just like, “I don’t want to be a lawyer, but I came to Blumhouse because Get Out changed my life, and you guys produced it. And I just wanted to meet you guys and hope that one day, maybe you guys can recommend me to be an assistant at some other production company, cause I want to be a Creative Exec one day.”

And he said, “All right, well, you know, obviously I can’t make you a Creative Exec, but I can add you to our team listserv. And as scripts come in, if you want to read a script and email your thoughts, knock yourself out.” And I’m thinking, “Man, you don’t even know what you did.” You have now let me in just outside the circle I’ve been trying to get into. I can see the front door, you know? Like I have come from outside the neighborhood, and now I’m at the front door.

And so for a year, every time a script came in, it was crazy, but my notes would hit the listserv at around 7:00 the next morning, regardless of whenever that script came in. I thought, for one year, it does not matter. If this script comes in at nine o’clock at night, comes in whenever, the next morning, you need to have notes on it.

And I just took that very seriously for an entire year. And I think after that, you know, it’s like, okay, guys, this kid is standing on the front steps and he’s not going away, and he’s just adding value every single day, and we should probably just let him in. I never even asked for anything from them. That was the other thing: I told myself I wanted to give them a year of nothing but extreme value in a very intense way.

You know how Michael Myers moves slowly, but he’s always coming, and you can’t kill him? That’s how I imagine myself. I imagine myself to be certain characters when I need them at certain times. So for one year, every time a script comes in, I’m just walking forward, you know? And then at the end of the year, I needed to ask for this letter of recommendation because I wanted to just go be an assistant somewhere else. I weirdly wasn’t even that pressed.

So I went to him, and the way I approached it, you’d think it was like a third date with a girl or something. I’m like, “Oh, I think this is going great. What do y’all think?” And then he was like, “We already talked to your legal boss, and we asked him if it was okay if you joined us full-time, and he said yes.”

For those who aren't in the film industry, at a high level, what do you actually do as a creative exec?

I feel like it’s twofold. There are a ton of scripts that come inbound, so you’re trying to find something that’s commercial, castable, that directors are really interested in, and just different. Like, there’s only so many haunted house movies.

The Conjuring just came out not too long ago. It’s a great movie, but there are only so many movies that could be like that. So the creative exec’s job is to know the landscape and find things that are familiar, so that the market knows what it is. Steven Soderbergh had a great film called Presence where the camera is a ghost in the house. So whatever it is, you gotta find what’s new and interesting.

And then you’re assigned to a movie and you’re advancing the script and offering notes to the writer. You’re also coordinating with casting, physical production, and the budget department. You’re casting with legal. If we need to fly an actor to set, we need to make sure we have a signed agreement before they get there. Legal is letting you know if you need to speak with their agencies, agent, or manager.

It’s a lot of triaging. At Netflix, they have this term called “informed captains.” And that meant that since Netflix has finance, legal, creative, physical production, and marketing departments, there had to be one person who was quarterbacking the whole situation and could liaise with all the different teams. So the job of a creative exec is to take the inbound and then be the informed captain. And some of the more senior executive creative execs are putting out crazy fires that happen on set or they’re dealing with egos and personalities. And it’s a lot of firefighting at that point.

I wanted to call out another thing you did. You were credited as a Director for the 2022 film, Pieces of a Memory. How did that come about?

That was an outgrowth of an edit I made, and I feel like there are a lot of really great movies I’ve seen where it’s an older, usually white couple. And it’s amazing because it’s not this rom-com puppy love. It’s about two people who have spent a life together. What does love look like then?

But I hadn’t seen a sweet, soft film with an older black couple. I also think I was on this Ossie Davis, Ruby Dee kick for a long time, where I thought they were such an interesting couple. They were great together, had funny chemistry, and they’ve also worked together. That was so interesting to me. So it was like I’d never seen this, but I can raise some money, and I can write it, and I can shoot it, and it’s just out there now.

How did it feel to see the finished product?

When people see it, they really like it and respond to it, and the actors also like it. And we screened it, and we have this really great community and people were crying, and it felt good to make something that people felt touched by. I enjoyed people talking about it to me more than I enjoyed looking at it. Cause when I look at it, I’m like, “I should’ve done this or that so differently.”

But some of those conversations with the older black people were so cool and they really enjoyed it. And so that was really nice. But for me, it was just crazy perfectionism.

You also created a Blumhouse speaker series for movie directors called “Home School.” On the third episode, you interviewed Barry Jenkins. Can you talk about your relationship with him and what it felt like?

Cause from the outside looking in, just following you on Twitter for like eight years, it would be very surface level for me to call it like a full circle moment. What did it feel like being on stage with him at that moment?

I disassociated, to be honest with you. I mean, when I saw If Beale Street Could Talk, I was in the worst seat. Like, I don’t even know if it was like fire code safe, you know I mean? It was the worst seat in the Apollo. I feel like if I ever go back to the Apollo, I can point to the seat and be like, “y’all should get rid of this. This feels dangerous.”

But he just seemed so far away. I went to the premiere of Moonlight and he randomly appeared at a surprise Q&A after. Man, the way he dressed, the way he spoke, and the way he answered questions, that’s exactly how I would have done it. It was just so surreal. And so I went up to talk to him, and I got nervous, and he walked by and I didn’t say anything.

And because he saw me doing the panels — first with Juel Taylor, then with Karyn Kusama — he reached out to me and was like, “yo, you gotta invite me.” And I just was so floored. Bro, I think there’s a recording of that, but that conversation was nuts. People were crying. You how we were talking about the beginning about how sometimes you’re in spaces and you feel like this is kind of spiritual or something? Not even to belabor, but it was just such a crazy conversation. It’s just so surreal how if you’re just persistent and you move with strategy and audacity, wild things can happen.

So for him and me to be in conversation at a talk that I put together for Blumhouse as a creative exec … it felt truly surreal. I didn’t really understand. The other thing is, Barry and I has invited me to events, and so during that time in between, it had gotten to the point where it’s like “oh, you’re a human being. You’re not just this figment of imagination.” So he had become more “normal” to me.

And because he saw me doing the panels — first with Juel Taylor, then with Karyn Kusama — he reached out to me and was like, “yo, you gotta invite me.” And I just was so floored. Bro, I think there’s a recording of that, but that conversation was nuts. People were crying. You how we were talking about the beginning about how sometimes you’re in spaces and you feel like this is kind of spiritual or something? Not even to belabor, but it was just such a crazy conversation. It’s just so surreal how if you’re just persistent and you move with strategy and audacity, wild things can happen.

But I also want to make sure that people understand, like I do believe in the proximity thing, but I don’t feel like an extreme architect of my life. I feel like I tried really hard to get close, and you know, that’s how you get luck. You just put yourself in the right position and then you hope that luck takes over, and I have been extremely lucky. I’ve definitely worked hard. I definitely have strategy and audacity, but we could have a whole other conversation about how I think luck has played a role in my life.

And I never want to tell people that this is just “rise and grind,” like just do it. You need a lot of luck too. And the way you get lucky is to put yourself in position to hopefully catch it. But once you do everything you can, it really is external. And I just think you really want to increase the surface area of your net for luck.

Yeah, for sure. Do you feel like this is what you've worked for, or is this a stop towards the thing?

I do feel like I sometimes struggle with destination fixation. Like I obsess over achieving something, and then as soon as I do, I’m like, “okay, great, now I gotta find the next thing”.

I definitely have so many things I want to accomplish. Like, I still want to be directly involved with my own version of Get Out. Not necessarily my own story, but I wanna help bring a really great idea into the world. That’s where I really want to go. And I feel like I’ve got the tools, the experience, and the resume.

I’ve been thinking about this forever. I can see the final front door. So I don’t feel like I’ve arrived, but I’m excited. I always think of Wizard of Oz when they’re they’re skipping down the yellow big road. Like, I feel like in that stage right now where it’s like, you’re not at Oz yet, you haven’t met the wizard yet, but man, like you’re on the path. You’re really on the path. And now it’s just one foot in front of the other.

I like that answer. What else do you like to do to unwind?

My trifecta is boxing, swimming, and biking. I was gonna say cycling. It’s not cycling, it’s just a regular bike that I ride everywhere. But those three things, man, I’m not saying don’t go to therapy. I’m saying those are my therapy.

I know your cardio is crazy.

And I just feel like you get into such a crazy flow state with all three of them. With boxing, if you’re on the heavy bag or sparring, you just lose yourself in it. And the same goes for swimming; I’ll sometimes be swimming and forget the time. I just become like this one single muscle that is doing this one single act. And I don’t have to think about my day. I just gotta know as soon as I see the little, you know, stripe at the end, just do my little flip turn, go back the other way.

Then with biking, you’re just pedaling and pushing as hard as you can. And you’re going down all these streets and you can just get lost in it. And I feel like those three things are three things I try to do every day, but they definitely level set me.

Is there anything else you'd like to leave the audience with? As you said, a lot of things can be taken for granted, but is there anything on your heart that you want to share? Like it can be about film, it could be about life.

Man, I’ve been really big on this lately, but I think people should really see risk and — let’s call it failure. Failure and regret seem to be intertwined in a peculiar way. But I think regret is a significant risk. I say failure is like a finite risk because you can always theoretically recover from it.

If you were to read any books on history, no matter how embarrassing, humiliating, devastating anyone’s failure has been, there are people who have overcome and recovered from it. So failure by definition is finite because you just have to recover what you lost. Regret, on the other hand, is exponential and compounding.

The easiest example I always talk about is like, if you see a girl at a bar or something and you don’t have the courage or work up the nerves to go talk to her, like man, that could have been your life partner. You guys’ child could have been the Luke Skywalker that saves the world.

Because you don’t know how big the loss is with regret, like it could be extraordinary. And if the only thing you have to do to not regret something is to risk failure, I’ll take that trade any day of the week and twice on Tuesday.

Regret is a very scary beast that can compound in you. And then, if you don’t do it this year, you won’t do it next year. And then all of a sudden you’re 70 and you’re like, “damn, I should have just at least moved to France.” So I’ve been telling people failure is finite and regret is compounding. Never, never let failure ever stop you from making sure you don’t have regret.

Written by Daniel Lee

Founder/CEO of The Monarch Brand

Daniel is also the co-founder of the ATP Writer’s Club. Click here for more Creator Spotlight articles.