How A Group of “Dumb Americans” Made One of the First Ever Horror Movies Shot in Albania

Producers Justin Martell, Matt Manjourides and Seager Dixon share the deeply unlikely story of filming the 2020 remake of Castle Freak.

Making an independent film is a hard, trying experience. The hours are long and the work seems almost endless. When filmmakers are pushed to their physical limits, either by monetary restraints, time restraints, or in some unfortunate cases, quality restraints, they have to lean on their mental strengths, as creative problem-solving becomes key. It is a delicate balance between ambition and reality. A game of chess in the world of art. Now, translate that back and forth to a language that roughly one tenth of one percent of the world’s population speaks fluently. Your game of chess has now turned into a tabletop adventure that not only has a trapezohedron dice and playing card system, but also includes a randomly generated, multi-balled roulette-style wheel. It’s one hell of a game.

Matt Manjourides, Justin Martell and Seager Dixon, on the ground in Albania.

We learned all this firsthand when our production company, Not The Funeral Home (so named because on two productions we used an old funeral home as both our production office and home, and vowed to never be in that situation again!) somehow ended up making one of the first ever horror movies shot in Albania.

Odds are most Americans don’t even know where Albania is. (Spoiler: it’s across the Adriatic Sea from Italy and north of Greece). Its history is as rich as it is mysterious. As a centralized trade point, Albania was, at different times, part of both the Ottoman and Roman Empires. Going back to ancient history, arguments have been made that Alexander the Great was, in fact, Albanian. Castles and fortresses dot the various mountain ranges, looking down on the proud land of Skanderbeg. These unique location opportunities are what drew us to decide to shoot our movie Castle Freak in the Balkans.

Gjirokaster Fortress at night.

Albania first popped up on our radar in 2017, during a research trip to Eastern Europe. We toured locations from the unrecognized rebel republic of Transnistria to the bustling backlots of Bulgaria and eventually passed through Albania. The country stood out immediately, both because of its amazing locations, ranging from its Mediterranean coastline to Byzantine-era fortresses to communist relics, as well as the distinct lack of other visiting American film crews.

In 2019, The Last Drive-In with Joe Bob Briggs – a standalone horror event produced by our company, Not the Funeral Home – aired on Shudder. It was intended as a one-off, but so many people tuned in that the 13-film marathon crashed AMC’s network (which included AMC, the Sundance Channel and Shudder). Soon, the Last Drive-In team was in Dallas, Texas, shooting a full season of the show. Following a visit to the set by Fangoria, they wanted to sit down and have a meeting about an upcoming film project called Castle Freak. We spoke about the locations we had in Eastern Europe, which we were anxious to feature in American films. “Can you find an Albanian castle for Castle Freak?” Fangoria asked. Two months later, we were back on the ground in Albania.

A local extra and Justin-Martell appear together as background talent in Castle Freak.

The location scouting process took place months before the first day of production. After multiple rounds of pictures and videos from our Albanian producing partners, the groundwork was set and we began to work out the logistics of filming. This portion of scouting is often the hardest, and in some cases, heartbreaking. You can tell yourself over and over, “Oh, we can make this work,” while looking at pictures and videos. But until you have stepped foot in a space, you can’t ever be completely sure. For weeks, we drove around the capital of Albania, Tirana, and then down to the site of the castle, Gjirokaster (birthplace of former Albanian Communist leader Enver Hoxha and a one-way four-hour trip). Each time, we found solutions and new options to present to the director. We scoped out various interiors of restaurants, businesses, museums and other locations as possible sets. Because both the budget and schedule were tight, every set had to be a preexisting location. Studio builds and backlots were totally out of the question. For some locations, we needed rooms in a nearby restaurant or hotel for our hair and makeup, costumes and special effects teams to work out of.

The castle, in particular, was a unique logistical challenge. Gjirokaster Fortress is a massive 12th century structure. Seated on a mountaintop, overlooking the town, it is a sight to behold. The keep, arches, clock tower, catacombs and centuries-old stone walls scream for a starring role in a classic Hammer Horror film. Unfortunately for the budding underground filmmakers, Gjirokaster Fortress is also a national treasure and protected by the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO). And with that comes tact. We were instructed by our Albanian producing partners to refrain from going into too many details with the fortress staff. Since the fortress was a tourist destination and used only for cultural events and festivals, the officials in charge of the fortress would most likely not want a film about outer-gods impregnating virgins on an altar on the roof of the fortress, to be shot where they hold concerts. So, in a very literal sense, our Albanian fixer said, Let me do all the talking.

A local goat perched on some film gear on the set of Castle Freak.

Despite having some amazing Gothic architecture, Albania is not known for its horror movies. Their blossoming film community instead makes thoughtful dramas and character pieces, not blood, guts and freaks Tate Steinsiek, the first-time director of Castle Freak (and also an Italian-born special effects maven!), arrived in the country with several boxes full of bloody gags. Tate decided to fly with all his props and equipment rather than ship them ahead of time, which created its own set of last-minute problems. We returned to our hotel one evening during pre-production to find some of the staff waiting for us. “The maid found the body in your room!” said one of them, referencing a mangled corpse Tate had propped up on a chair and covered with a bloody sheet. “She almost had a heart attack. If we had not stopped her from calling the police, they would have been here waiting for you instead of us!”

In fact, when working with almost all our locations, we had to take into consideration that the property owners had sometimes never even seen a horror film. Local reactions were a concern for our Albanian production team, fearing that our production would spark a national controversy. You have to keep in mind that, in addition to being a former Communist surveillance state that at the time developed state-of-the-art spying techniques, Albania has a population of roughly two million. The population of New York City is more than eight million. Word travels quick in the Balkans. Monster suits had to be handled with stealth and care. Gallons of fake blood and various gored-up silicon appendages had to be kept out of sight from non-crew on set. This added another layer of logistics on set. Because of this secrecy (and the fact that it was a horror film), the majority of shoots were night shoots. The crew would arrive and get to work once the people who worked at the locations had left. With these caveats in mind and locations locked, we were set to get to work on The Castle, a drama centered around an American family that inherits a castle in Albania.

The famous Tirana “Pyramid,” a museum to former dictator Enver Hoxha which was used as Castle Freak‘s party location.

It’s fair to have reservations about working with different crew in a different film industry in a different country. But that’s where the reservations stopped when working with the local Albanian crew. They were world class, to say the least. In addition to securing Gjirokaster Fortress, our local producing partners helped us make history when we became the first foreign crew to shoot inside the famous Tirana “Pyramid,” a tantalizingly gaudy building built in 1988 as a museum to former dictator Enver Hoxha, which had been vacant since the collapse of Albanian communism in 1991. Castle Freak’s director of photography, Spiro Nino, is a master craftsman. His crew of camera, grip and electric technicians (all taught by him) were tireless in their efforts and execution. Each day required multiple setups, running from one end of the castle to another. They went above and beyond – as did production designer Luan Shkodra and his art department. The amount of work they did in an extremely limited time was unreal. Again, the locations were restaurants, store fronts and museums. All of the furniture had to be brought in or made. All of the art and sculptures that populated the castle halls had to be created. The locations were one of a kind, but the art department really brought them to life. Local hair and make-up head Jacopo Tomassini, who has pushed the limits of popular taste in Albania with his own body horror film The Obsessed, was essential in helping our FX team source supplies in a foreign land and ended up with an FX credit. Every member of our nearly 40-person crew held themselves to that same high standard of craft, hard work and dedication.

Two months of living and working in Albania had prepared the American production team on Castle Freak for the most of the cultural differences that can come up when working outside the U.S., along with realizing things as simple as copy paper can be a big deal to get outside of Albania’s capital city. So we ate Albanian food and drank Albanian beer (shout out to Birra Korça and Birra Elbar). We had our favorite restaurants, shops and night life establishments, and we knew enough Albanian phrases to get around town – and smooth things over when our drone crash landed in a family’s back yard (a shot of that crash is in the final film). Now it was time to drop in a bunch of young American actors and actresses who had never been to Albania and, in some cases, had never left the United States. “Are there organic foods?” Yes! Industrial agriculture isn’t a thing yet in Albania, and nearly all of the food you find in restaurants can be considered farm to table, free from hormones and other unsavory bits typical of American food. The only corporate fast food restaurant in Tirana is a KFC found across the street from the former house of the aforementioned former Communist leader Enver Hoxha (they also had a Burger King in the big mall near the airport). “Can I bring my skateboard?” our lead actress asked. “Not recommended!” Driving in Albania is, let’s say, specialized. Unless you’re a local, it is not recommended, let alone occupying the same space on a skateboard.

A still from Castle Freak.

We fielded a lot of questions, thoughts and concerns leading up to the arrival of our American talent and Fangoria producers. “Is it safe for Americans?” Yes! Albania is rated a level 1 on the U.S. State Department’s 1 to 4 travel ranking (4 being “Do Not Travel.”) The U.K., France, and Germany are all rated a level 2. “Do we need to worry about amenities?” Not exactly! The cities of Tirana and Gjirokaster each have wonderful hotels and facilities. The Dajti Mountains, however, not so much. There was a little game of ‘expectations versus reality” with working standards that everyone from the American side of production had to learn. It wasn’t like they had to sleep on the floor of an abandoned funeral home with 60 other people, but sometimes (most times) the castle would stop having running water two hours into the workday. What can you do? It’s a 12th century castle.

In terms of workflow and communication between between the Americans and Albanians (and our Italian digital imaging technician), that was expertly handled by our Albanian assistant director, Mateo Cingu. To put things into perspective, the entire camera, lighting, and grip departments spoke almost no English. This added many extra steps in not only the camera and lighting setups, but also the blocking for the actors. A simple adjustment from the American director to the D.P. or the D.P. to an actor or an actor to the sound recordist or the sound recordist to the director generally required at least some translation back and forth. It was a rough first few days, but eventually a new language of Albanian, English and filmmaking was established, and these initial difficulties eased. With everything in place and every possible tool at the crew’s disposal (in imperial and metric), it was left to Tate to evoke the spirit of the original Castle Freak, all while creating something entirely new and equally haunting. As producers, our work was just about done.

Matt Manjourides and popular Albanian actor Genti Kame, who plays Marku in Castle Freak.

Over the course of shooting, the American crew and actors faced learning curves, including realizing they needed to make sure the Albanian locations team secured locations with access to bathrooms and rooms for actors to change, and working out how to respond to herds of goats ambushing our set. We endured locals walking through our sets, because, our fixer explained, “It would be rude to tell them not to, because you don’t know who they are related to.” We soon found out that in Albania, everyone is related in some way to each other and if we wanted the police to lend us their guns for a scene, or if we didn’t want to be hassled by the police, we had to be OK with locals crashing the set. We got used to things being a little different in Albania: we stayed at a hotel that would not allow outside food, we braved a bout of stomach sickness the Albanian fixer blamed on the Gjirokaster wind, and after a particularly stressful night when tempers were high amongst both the Americans and Albanians, the crew returned to their hotel rooms to find their toilet seats and shower curtains had been removed.

On the second-to-last day of shooting, we received a call from our Albanian producing partner. He was on his way to have a meeting with the director of Gjirokaster Fortress Museum. It sounded dire. All our attempts at hiding the fact that we were shooting a monster movie from the powers that be had seemingly been in vain. A tour guide at the museum had been digging through our trash after each day of shooting. She was collecting the small script inserts used for filming each scene. Piece by piece, she put together the script and discovered the truth. We weren’t there to film a period piece drama called The Castle. We were filming a horror film called Castle Freak. “Oh, I don’t care. Why didn’t you just tell me you filming a dumb American movie with a bunch of dumb Americans?” said the director of the museum. All that subterfuge was for naught, but that’s independent filmmaking.

Justin Martell and Matt Manjourides were producers on Fangoria’s Castle Freak with Seager Dixon serving as Unit Production Manager. Their company Not the Funeral Home produced Street Trash in South Africa, which is now available on Blu-ray from Vinegar Syndrome, and produces The Last Drive-In with Joe Bob Briggs, which is currently in its seventh season on Shudder. The latest Not the Funeral Home film, Black Eyed Susan, is available for pre-order from Vinegar Syndrome here.