When a shy and unassuming guy finds he can't compete for female attention with the brash Wall St. guys in a raucous, New York karaoke bar, he decides to reveal a hidden talent.

Director's Note:

Karaoke. Public self-lampoonery or misunderstood social art form? As a lifelong singer, I had never put much thought into how I felt about it. I had certainly done it for fun and had even been to Japan where it sometimes bordered on a Strindbergian performance complete with drunken, weeping businessmen. But then came the day when I realized that I was looking forward to a night of karaoke, not for the chance to hang out with friends, but for the opportunity to sing a song I knew I could nail in public.

For a number of years, I made semi-regular visits to several favorite karaoke bars in New York, even becoming friendly with the “DJs” in order to expedite the wait times between my songs. I thought of myself as a bit of a pro. I strove to avoid pretension with my song choice and took pride in being able to revive the energy in the room if someone (a novice!) prematurely sang a James Taylor ballad. A little injection of Def Leopard or Bon Jovi and the party was back on track.

Now, every karaoke venue has a “regulars” night, where most of the people there can all sing moderately well and who usually have a couple of favorite songs they perform exclusively. These nights are always the best time to try out a new song without the risk of killing a good party vibe.

It was on a slow, Sunday night (a regulars night), at a place in the East Village, that I heard William Day sing Otis Redding’s “I’ve Got Dreams to Remember.” I had never seen him before, but I knew that I had witnessed something I’d remember for the rest of my life. By the end of the first chorus, he had silenced the entire bar and had a completely rapt audience. I had heard some impressive singers before, but he was on a whole different level! Afterwards, I introduced myself. I just wanted to find out who he was so I could keep track of him for a possible future project. We exchanged information but I failed to keep in touch.

About a year after our meeting, I told Sophia Downs that I had an idea for a short film based on the night I met William. Sophia had produced a feature I had edited and told me that if I could write a script, she would produce it with me. It took me another year to get off my butt and write the script, but as soon as it was done, I sent it to William. He immediately replied and said he wanted to do it.

Storytellers often say that their stories find them. This seems to be the case with The Regular and I’m confident that this was supposed to be my debut film. Is this film my love letter to karaoke? Perhaps, but more specifically, it’s a simple story about the power of music. I hope you enjoy it.

- Jamie Kirkpatrick