Most filmmakers go to school to learn their craft. Angelica Atz learned hers by living it—moving between three countries, four languages, and countless challenges that would eventually become the foundation of her storytelling.

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Born in 1990 in the Dominican Republic to a family with Haitian, Dominican, and German roots, her early life was anything but linear. At three, her family moved to Germany, where she spent her childhood embracing the diversity and opportunities of European life. When her parents divorced, everything changed. At fifteen, she found herself back in the Dominican Republic, watching her grandmother sell handmade art for survival. It was a far cry from the life she'd known in Germany, where electricity was a given and survival wasn't a daily question.

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It was during those tough times that she started having vivid dreams—wild, cinematic visions that offered an escape from daily struggles. She began writing them down, turning those midnight movies in her head into stories on paper. Without realizing it, she'd found her calling.

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The family eventually settled in Miami, where being an immigrant came with its own set of challenges. But it was also where everything clicked into place. During a high school competition, she picked up a film camera for the first time and directed a 30-second PSA about hurricane preparedness. The project won first place, but more importantly, it sparked something she couldn't ignore. This wasn't just fun—this was what she was meant to do.

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Traditional film school wasn't in the cards financially, so she took the DIY route, teaching herself screenwriting, video editing, graphic design, marketing, and music production—sparked by her high school passion for songwriting and singing. Her stepfather, an IT specialist, filled their home with everything from Eros Ramazzotti to pop, classical music and once had her disassemble and rebuild a computer on her own, teaching her to trust herself, be patient, embrace mistakes, keep going even when it’s hard, and believe there’s always a way forward. That mindset would later define her self-taught creative journey.

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Her first pilot, 4 Seasons, reflects this multifaceted approach. Spanning four seasons with a diverse cast of 20 characters, it's the kind of project that could only come from someone who's lived in multiple worlds and learned to see the universal threads that connect us all. Not only does she write and direct, but she also acts in her films and often creates the original score—proving wrong those who said she couldn't wear multiple hats on set.

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What draws her to specific genres isn't market research or trends—it's how she feels in the moment, often sparked by a single conversation or connection with someone new. "I don't put myself in a box," she says. "I'm passionate about exploring the infinite." This philosophy shows in her current projects: Echoes of the Past, a deeply personal story about a celebrated filmmaker who returns to Miami only to discover her new lover is connected to her past in shocking ways, and Test of Time, a true story following Afua, a Kenyan refugee whose journey from war-torn chaos to small-town Alabama explores trauma, mental health, and the complex nature of judgment versus empathy.

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After 16 years splitting time between New York and Miami, she made the decision to return to Europe. The move wasn't just geographic—it represented a chance to deepen her craft. She spent two years at SAE Institute in Stuttgart, expanding her Film production skills and also learning Ableton Live while networking with producers who taught her the language of sound design. Now, when she sits with audio engineers, she speaks their language, creating better dynamics and workflow. She's currently teaching herself piano, inspired by her musician brother, adding another layer to her already diverse skill set.

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Back in Europe, she's been networking within the film community, recently serving as location manager on The Dispatcher by Dennis Reinick and as a jury member for SDG Entertainment's film festival. But her focus remains on finding collaborators who share her vision for creating meaningful work that challenges audiences to see beyond surface judgments.

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While building her career, she drove for Uber in Miami—not just to survive, but inadvertently gathering some of her best material. Thousands of passengers shared their stories during those rides, from late-night confessions to morning rush revelations. She realized that being genuinely open to people's experiences was feeding her craft in ways she never knew.

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Her approach spans genres—comedy, sci-fi, thriller—but always with the same foundation: real human connection. She doesn't just want audiences to feel less alone; she wants them to feel the full spectrum of what it means to be human. The joy, the absurdity, the hope. "If you want to tell stories that matter, you can’t just sit behind a screen—you have to step into the mess of the world. You need to feel its weight, its beauty, its absurdity, and let that seep into your bones before you can share it with anyone else." she says. In an industry where everything feels recycled, her work stands out because it's rooted in authentic experiences with real people.

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For her, filmmaking isn't about chasing awards or fame—it's about capturing those split-second moments when strangers let you into their world. Whether through comedy that makes people laugh until they cry, or thrillers that keep them on the edge of their seats, she's using every genre as a vehicle for genuine human stories.