Fateful Findings - 2013 - Neil Breen Online
Neil Breen writes, directs, produces, funds, edits, and stars in all of his films. In Fateful Findings, he plays Dylan, a brilliant novelist/researcher/technomancer who, as a child, made a pact with a mystical, glowing, pagan-esque stone circle in the woods. The deal? Limitless knowledge.
Fast forward to adulthood. Dylan is married to a successful but shrewish businesswoman (played with stiff dread by Breen’s real-life spouse). He spends his days hacking into government databases on a laptop that looks like it runs Windows 95, all while wearing a leather jacket and a thousand-yard stare.
One day, after a literal car crash (the editing here is… abrupt), Dylan gains the ability to see the “other side.” He can now magically heal people with a touch and access classified secrets. He uses this power not to fight crime, but to expose corrupt pharmaceutical companies and government conspiracies by... typing aggressively.
For all its absurdity, Fateful Findings is a deeply thematic film—if you squint hard enough.
The Corruption of Big Pharma: Breen has a genuine, obsessive hatred for the medical industry. Characters are constantly dying from "poisonous" vitamins. A doctor in the film is literally a villain who chases people with syringes. Breen’s heroism is defined by tearing up prescription pads. Fateful Findings - 2013 - Neil Breen
Hacking as Magic: Unlike The Matrix or Mr. Robot, Breen’s version of hacking involves putting his hands on a keyboard, closing his eyes, and shuddering violently. He then speaks aloud: "I’m in the mainframe." He downloads entire government secrets in seconds, often while people are sleeping next to him.
The Toxic Marriage: The first hour of Fateful Findings is essentially a marital horror film. Breen’s on-screen wife is a monster who screams for wine, throws phones, and belittles him. Breen reacts by staring at her, saying nothing, then walking to his study to hack the NSA. It is a bizarrely relatable metaphor for escapism.
Neil Breen films operate on a distinct visual language. Keep an eye out for these recurring motifs:
Without ruining the absolute chaos, the climax involves Dylan giving a press conference on a rainy lawn. He announces he is going to expose the world’s secrets using the laptops. The corrupt officials try to stop him. A character spontaneously falls down stairs. Another dies via sudden vomiting. Neil Breen writes, directs, produces, funds, edits, and
And then? A literal deus ex machina. The stone circle glows. A laser shoots into the sky. Dylan walks away holding hands with his ghost girlfriend.
It makes zero sense. It is perfect.
In the vast, sprawling desert of cinema, there are oases of critical acclaim, mountains of blockbuster revenue, and then there is the Badlands—a region where normal rules of storytelling, acting, and physics simply do not apply. At the epicenter of this strange territory stands a man in a black suit, clutching a laptop, staring intensely at a crystal. That man is Neil Breen, and his 2013 masterpiece, Fateful Findings, is the Rosetta Stone of Outsider Cinema.
For the uninitiated, Fateful Findings is not merely a movie; it is a metaphysical experience. Released in 2013, written, directed, produced, scored, and starring Neil Breen (who also handled casting, catering, and presumably the teleprompter), this film defies conventional rating systems. It is simultaneously the worst film ever made and the most honest, unflinching portrayal of one man’s ego, paranoia, and messianic delusion. Without ruining the absolute chaos, the climax involves
Upon its initial release in 2013, Fateful Findings played in a handful of indie theaters to baffled audiences. It wasn't until the rise of Reddit and YouTube reviewers (like RedLetterMedia and yourmoviesucksdotorg) that the film found its cult status.
Today, Fateful Findings is considered the "Citizen Kane of Bad Movies." Unlike a cynical cash-grab like The Room (which was an attempt at a serious drama that failed), or Birdemic (which was an attempt at a thriller that failed), Fateful Findings sits in a sui generis category. Neil Breen genuinely believes he is a visionary. He believes the shaky zooms are artistic. He believes that having a woman weep for five minutes while holding a note is profound.
This sincerity is the secret sauce. You cannot mock Fateful Findings cruelly, because Breen is not laughing with you. He is out there, right now, probably editing his sixth film, convinced he is saving cinema. That commitment to the bit—even though the bit is madness—makes the film a masterpiece.