After the 2025 Bahamas International Film Festival (BIFF), I interviewed writer-director Tomer Almagor. We spoke at length about his illustrious career as an independent filmmaker, and his latest film psychological horror "Klifhaus" (2026). His film10 Kilos of Cocaine screened at BIFF. The film was directed by Doron Eran and inspired by the bestselling true story by Sharon Yitzhaki.

You are a writer, director and producer. Is there a role you like the most?

TOMER: I don’t separate the roles emotionally because they all come from the same impulse to shape a story from the inside out, and they all fall under the daily life of being a filmmaker. Writing is where everything begins, where I can explore obsession, intimacy, fear, and moral uncertainty without limits. It is the place where I can be my most personal and spend time with my demons, in the best and worst ways. 

Directing is where those inner worlds become physical through performance, space, rhythm, and silence. I love working with a team of collaborators, and that journey that was once just me while writing suddenly becomes everyone’s to take part in. It is exhausting and exhilarating in the same breath. Unlike writing, where I can take my time, directing requires precision because the clock is always ticking. Every choice has weight, and every decision affects the whole.

Producing is the discipline that makes the vision real and protects it through practical challenges. I had to teach myself to produce, and I am grateful for that skill because it allows me to protect the vision but also be fiscally responsible. It helps partners feel confident in my ability to deliver in this risky balance of art and commerce.

Editing is where the film finally reveals itself. I edit my own work because it keeps me close to the emotional currents that inspired the story in the first place. I began my professional filmmaking journey as an editor, and it will always be my safe space. If I had to choose one role, directing is where I feel most alive because it is the moment when all the pieces collide. But moving fluidly between writing, directing, producing, and editing allows me to protect the emotional core of the film and make sure that every choice truly serves the story.

How difficult is it to be an independent filmmaker today? Does it require wearing many hats?

TOMER: Being an independent filmmaker today is both harder than ever and strangely more possible than ever. The landscape is crowded, financing is unpredictable, distribution is fragmented, and attention spans are under constant assault. You have to fight to make something meaningful and then fight again to get it seen. It absolutely requires wearing many hats. For most indie films there is no cavalry coming, so you become your own cavalry in every phase. You develop the script, build the budget, assemble the team, secure financing, chase locations, negotiate deals, work through union paperwork, and once you finish the film you still have to strategize festivals, marketing, and release. Each step demands a different muscle.

For me the hardest phases are the beginning and the end. The birth of an idea, finding the next project, is always terrifying and magical. You’re lost. Not that you aren’t lost during every phase of filmmaking, but when a project ends there is always this void inside me that I have to fill. You realize you have to start again from nothing, and

After the 2025 Bahamas International Film Festival (BIFF), I interviewed writer-director Tomer Almagor. We spoke at length about his illustrious career as an independent filmmaker, and his latest film psychological horror "Klifhaus" (2026). His film10 Kilos of Cocaine screened at BIFF. The film was directed by Doron Eran and inspired by the bestselling true story by Sharon Yitzhaki.

You are a writer, director and producer. Is there a role you like the most?

TOMER: I don’t separate the roles emotionally because they all come from the same impulse to shape a story from the inside out, and they all fall under the daily life of being a filmmaker. Writing is where everything begins, where I can explore obsession, intimacy, fear, and moral uncertainty without limits. It is the place where I can be my most personal and spend time with my demons, in the best and worst ways. 

Directing is where those inner worlds become physical through performance, space, rhythm, and silence. I love working with a team of collaborators, and that journey that was once just me while writing suddenly becomes everyone’s to take part in. It is exhausting and exhilarating in the same breath. Unlike writing, where I can take my time, directing requires precision because the clock is always ticking. Every choice has weight, and every decision affects the whole.

Producing is the discipline that makes the vision real and protects it through practical challenges. I had to teach myself to produce, and I am grateful for that skill because it allows me to protect the vision but also be fiscally responsible. It helps partners feel confident in my ability to deliver in this risky balance of art and commerce.

Editing is where the film finally reveals itself. I edit my own work because it keeps me close to the emotional currents that inspired the story in the first place. I began my professional filmmaking journey as an editor, and it will always be my safe space. If I had to choose one role, directing is where I feel most alive because it is the moment when all the pieces collide. But moving fluidly between writing, directing, producing, and editing allows me to protect the emotional core of the film and make sure that every choice truly serves the story.

How difficult is it to be an independent filmmaker today? Does it require wearing many hats?

TOMER: Being an independent filmmaker today is both harder than ever and strangely more possible than ever. The landscape is crowded, financing is unpredictable, distribution is fragmented, and attention spans are under constant assault. You have to fight to make something meaningful and then fight again to get it seen. It absolutely requires wearing many hats. For most indie films there is no cavalry coming, so you become your own cavalry in every phase. You develop the script, build the budget, assemble the team, secure financing, chase locations, negotiate deals, work through union paperwork, and once you finish the film you still have to strategize festivals, marketing, and release. Each step demands a different muscle.

For me the hardest phases are the beginning and the end. The birth of an idea, finding the next project, is always terrifying and magical. You’re lost. Not that you aren’t lost during every phase of filmmaking, but when a project ends there is always this void inside me that I have to fill. You realize you have to start again from nothing, and

After the 2025 Bahamas International Film Festival (BIFF), I interviewed writer-director Tomer Almagor. We spoke at length about his illustrious career as an independent filmmaker, and his latest film psychological horror "Klifhaus" (2026). His film10 Kilos of Cocaine screened at BIFF. The film was directed by Doron Eran and inspired by the bestselling true story by Sharon Yitzhaki.

You are a writer, director and producer. Is there a role you like the most?

TOMER: I don’t separate the roles emotionally because they all come from the same impulse to shape a story from the inside out, and they all fall under the daily life of being a filmmaker. Writing is where everything begins, where I can explore obsession, intimacy, fear, and moral uncertainty without limits. It is the place where I can be my most personal and spend time with my demons, in the best and worst ways. 

Directing is where those inner worlds become physical through performance, space, rhythm, and silence. I love working with a team of collaborators, and that journey that was once just me while writing suddenly becomes everyone’s to take part in. It is exhausting and exhilarating in the same breath. Unlike writing, where I can take my time, directing requires precision because the clock is always ticking. Every choice has weight, and every decision affects the whole.

Producing is the discipline that makes the vision real and protects it through practical challenges. I had to teach myself to produce, and I am grateful for that skill because it allows me to protect the vision but also be fiscally responsible. It helps partners feel confident in my ability to deliver in this risky balance of art and commerce.

Editing is where the film finally reveals itself. I edit my own work because it keeps me close to the emotional currents that inspired the story in the first place. I began my professional filmmaking journey as an editor, and it will always be my safe space. If I had to choose one role, directing is where I feel most alive because it is the moment when all the pieces collide. But moving fluidly between writing, directing, producing, and editing allows me to protect the emotional core of the film and make sure that every choice truly serves the story.

How difficult is it to be an independent filmmaker today? Does it require wearing many hats?

TOMER: Being an independent filmmaker today is both harder than ever and strangely more possible than ever. The landscape is crowded, financing is unpredictable, distribution is fragmented, and attention spans are under constant assault. You have to fight to make something meaningful and then fight again to get it seen. It absolutely requires wearing many hats. For most indie films there is no cavalry coming, so you become your own cavalry in every phase. You develop the script, build the budget, assemble the team, secure financing, chase locations, negotiate deals, work through union paperwork, and once you finish the film you still have to strategize festivals, marketing, and release. Each step demands a different muscle.

For me the hardest phases are the beginning and the end. The birth of an idea, finding the next project, is always terrifying and magical. You’re lost. Not that you aren’t lost during every phase of filmmaking, but when a project ends there is always this void inside me that I have to fill. You realize you have to start again from nothing, and