CRUMBS
A short film by Roberto Lopez
Six months to live... not a lot of toast
Logline
A man receives a terminal diagnosis over breakfast and decides whether to call the brother he betrayed.
Synopsis
A rumpled man in his fifties sits alone at his kitchen table, eating toast.
His phone rings. Dr. Kovac—a brash oncologist who speaks in gambling metaphors—delivers devastating news: terminal lung cancer. Stage four. Six months to live, maybe less.
As the diagnosis unfolds over speakerphone, the man continues eating. Each loud CRUNCH punctuates the doctor's increasingly casual delivery. A knife slips from his hand. But he keeps chewing.
When asked about family, the man admits he ran off with his brother's wife twelve years ago. They haven't spoken since. The doctor suggests calling him—people get forgiving when you're dying.
After hanging up, the man eats his last bite of toast. A crumb falls. He reaches for his phone.
Why CRUMBS?
This film started with a bite of toast.
I was on a parent-teacher conference call when I took a bite of toast and it was loud. The teacher paused. I kept chewing. And in that moment of discomfort, I thought: What if someone got the worst news of their life while eating toast?
Because that's what we do, isn't it? We receive devastating news and we keep... going. We make coffee. We fold laundry. We finish our breakfast. Not because we don't care, but because the mundane is the only thing we can control when everything else is falling apart.
CRUMBS is about that gap - between the magnitude of what we're told and the smallness of what we do next.
CHARACTERS
THE MAN (50s)
Role: Lead
Rumpled t-shirt and sweatpants. Unshaven. Exhausted eyes. The kind of quiet that comes from living alone too long. Moves slowly, deliberately. Eats plain toast because nothing else tastes right anymore. Isolated. Resigned. Carrying weight he won't talk about.
What the role offers:
Pure internalization. Everything unsaid. An actor showcase built on stillness, micro-expressions, and restraint.
Think: David Strathairn, Richard Jenkins, Michael Shannon.
DR. KOVAC (Voice Only)
Role: Supporting (V.O.)
Brash. Loud. Inappropriate. Speaks in gambling metaphors. Burnt-out but not unkind. The kind of doctor who's delivered too much bad news and uses dark humor to survive it.
What the role offers:
Distinctive voice role.
Think: J.K. Simmons energy, William H. Macy's deadpan
ONE TAKE. NO CUTS
Here's the thing: this entire film is one continuous shot.
You sit down with this man at breakfast, the phone rings, and you don't leave until he hangs up.
Why a oner?
Because cutting would let the audience off the hook. A cut gives you a moment to process. But this guy doesn't get that. He's stuck in this conversation, trapped at this table, eating his toast while his world ends. The audience should feel that same trapped quality -- you can't look away, you can't escape. You're in it with him.
The color palette is muted-- grays, warm wood, cream tones. Morning light through the window. Nothing flashy. It should feel like any kitchen on any Monday morning.
And the final moment: after he hangs up, we stay with him. Watch him lift that last bite. Watch him reach for his phone. No cuts to save us
CRUMBS on Super 16mm film.
I shot my last two shorts—Crazyheads and Early Bird—on Super 16mm, so I know what it takes. And for this story, there's no other choice. Film has grain, texture, warmth. It feels human. Digital is clean and polished—this guy's life isn't either of those things.
Derek Cianfrance shot Blue Valentine on Super 16mm because he wanted intimacy and imperfection. Two people falling apart in real time, captured on a format that feels as fragile as their relationship. That's what we're after here.
But here's why it matters for a oner:
When you shoot one continuous take on film, you're committed. One roll. One chance. If something goes wrong three minutes in, you can't just cut around it. The actor has to hold the entire performance. The focus puller has to be perfect. Everyone's on the same tightrope.
That tension—that stakes—is exactly what the character is experiencing. No rewind. No do-overs. Just time running out.
We shoot on film because it makes us better. It demands precision. And for a story about a man running out of time, that pressure belongs in the process, not just the script.
WHO WE'RE LOOKING FOR
We're looking for an actor in his 50s who understands that less is more. Someone who can sit at a table, eat toast, and make you feel twelve years of regret without saying a word about it.
This role isn't about big moments - it's about the space between words, the look in their eyes when they realize they're out of time. We need someone comfortable with stillness, someone who trusts that the camera will find everything they're not saying. Character actor energy over leading man. Lived-in face. The kind of guy who looks like he's been carrying something heavy for a long time - actors who do the internal work and trust the audience to see it.
Visual References
“Nostalgia is a powerful feeling; it can drown out anything.” - Terrence Malick
Roberto Lopez is a filmmaker whose work blends poetic restraint with deeply human storytelling. His feature The Wild Dreamers (2024) was distributed by Indie Rights and is now streaming on Amazon—a lyrical portrait of two young brothers navigating grief through imagination.
Roberto has directed multiple short films and documentaries that have screened at festivals across the United States and Europe. Outside his independent work, he is an Emmy-nominated camera utility/video technician on The Late Show with Stephen Colbert and Saturday Night Live. Between live television gigs, he makes films that explore the quiet, human moments cameras are made to capture.
CONTACT
Roberto Lopez
Writer/Director
Email: melvinthehermit@gmail.com
Phone: 917-805-2964
Website: www.robertolopezfilms.com
Screenplay: CRUMBS
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