FLINT, Michigan — It’s a rainy morning in Brooklyn, and filmmaker Layla Bird Revoldt is walking her rescue dog through a local park with the city skyline and the Statue of Liberty in view. It’s a picturesque start to a raw, honest conversation about dreams, disappointment, and a vision for a better film industry.
On the other end of the call, I, watching rain fall in Flint, listen as she unfolds a story that weaves together grit, vulnerability, and the spirit of resistance — staples of Flintstones.
Layla, a Flint native and daughter of local writer Jessica Revoldt, grew up immersed in the city’s art scene. “By the time I was 12, 13, I started getting more involved. I did a show at the Flint Youth Theatre,” she recalls. But life in Flint wasn’t easy.
Raised by a single mom and constantly on the move, Layla found solace in movies. “I would sit there and watch movies over and over again,” she laughs, describing how VHS tapes and DVDs comforted her during tough times. Her love for cinema grew from that intimacy — an early seed for the filmmaker she would become.
Despite her passion, Layla never believed a film career was possible. “Being a successful filmmaker, which is so rare, seemed completely out of bounds.”
She initially pursued teaching at the University of Michigan, but the 2016 presidential election flipped her world upside down. “If this giant buffoon can be president, I can be Steven Spielberg,” she explains. The shock galvanized her into action. She applied to NYU’s prestigious film school — and got in with a generous scholarship.
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Courtesy photoAlthough Layla calls Brooklyn home, her roots and connection to Flint remain ever present.Arriving in New York was a culture shock. “NYU was not the grassroots DIY art scene Flint had. It was the opposite,” she explains. Surrounded by celebrity kids, moneyed elites, and politicians, Layla considered leaving. But she couldn’t bring herself to quit. “Honestly, I thought, ‘I wanna go home.’ [But] I didn’t want to look like I gave up. I wanted to make everybody proud.”
That sense of pride fuels her current project, Bloodsuckers of Bushwick, a short horror film that blends humor, satire, and social critique, alluding to elements from the Flint Water Crisis.
The film follows a character from Flint, played by Flint native David Guster, who moves to Bushwick and discovers his roommates are undead — and bedbugs may or may not be conspiring to suck the life from him.
But this isn’t just another quirky horror short. To represent the film’s tone, Layla was intentional about its visual branding — dark, moody, with strong reds and pinks.
“Horror is a boys’ club historically,” she says. And no, she doesn’t want this mistaken for another “silly horror” film. “I don’t look like somebody who could make a film. I don’t want people to think I’m not taking this seriously.”
Layla uses the film to draw parallels between vampirism and privilege. “Vampires have always been mysteriously wealthy,” she laughs. “Growing up poor, when I came to New York City and met these super ultra wealthy people — I [thought], ‘Y’all are vampires.’”
In Bloodsuckers, the monsters aren’t the working-class characters from Flint or New York. They’re the aloof, wealthy vampires who hide behind fake wokeness and consume everything in their path — physically, emotionally, and systemically.
The bedbugs symbolize more than literal pests. They represent a “population density of the people in New York City,” she explains. In a playful twist, the bedbugs are “very silly” — energetic, mischievous creatures that remind Layla of the “soot sprites” from Hayao Miyazaki’s Spirited Away.
In addition, Layla intends to blend live action with animation, which is a nod to the ’80s and ’90s films she grew up watching.
Still, Layla is acutely aware of the challenges of making films as an outsider to generational wealth. She notes that at its core, the film industry is a “very capitalist medium” with “a lot of wasted money and resources” from blowing up cars to locations to catering. Despite her NYU education, she found herself disillusioned by the abuse and gatekeeping rampant behind the scenes.
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Courtesy photoFlint native David Guster takes the lead in the film 'Bloodsuckers of Bushwick.'“There’s no HR in the film industry, proper freelance. People play hard, work hard, and go out [for] drinks after working a sixteen-hour day. There’s a lot of grooming and it’s like a cult,” she explains. “I didn’t like how if a male producer [asked] me to dinner and I said no, I would stop getting jobs with him. Depending on their identities, different groups of people are used and abused by the industry.”
These harsh realities led Layla to step back and take a corporate job in technical production. “I started to feel like I [could] get back to why I wanted to do this in the first place,” she says. While the content isn’t glamorous, she enjoys supporting people’s ideas and creating clean, professional videos within budget.
Through Bloodsuckers of Bushwick, Layla is charting a new path rooted in sustainability, equity, and imagination. Her long-term vision includes returning to Flint to make a feature-length film that actively gives back to the community. Instead of building wasteful sets, she dreams of purchasing and renovating blighted properties for filming, then donating them to local nonprofits.
That ethos extends to her current production crew — a collective of young artists who share her values and commitment to change. While Bloodsuckers may not be large enough to “change the world,” Layla says, it’s helping them model what a healthier film set can look like.
“We’re creating transparency across our production. Everyone gets a stipend. [No one is working] for free — except myself and my partner,” Luke Hrabal, who’s an Emmy-nominated cinematographer.
The film is also raising funds on Indiegogo, offering perks like t-shirts, posters, and producer credits. “I felt uncomfortable asking for money,” Layla admits. And while she’s no stranger to guerrilla filmmaking on a shoestring budget, this next stage of her career requires polish and intention.
As our interview winds down, I ask Layla what advice she’d offer aspiring creatives. She doesn’t hesitate. “Keep reminding yourself that you’re a storyteller, [even] when you have to take those crappy jobs driving a cube truck through Manhattan.”
She encourages artists to stay consistent, surround themselves with honest peers, support other artists, and take their projects seriously.
The vampires and bedbugs might have fangs in Bloodsuckers of Bushwick, but Layla’s art has bite. And in a world that often drains us dry, her insistence on dreaming, storytelling, and ethical filmmaking feels like the resistance we didn’t know we needed. Because as she so bluntly states,
“You don’t have to say yes. You don’t have to keep following the breadcrumbs. You can change course and decide to build something that makes sense and speaks to you and your experiences.”
To learn more about Bloodsuckers of Bushwick and to support and donate, visit its Indiegogo page, Instagram, and Facebook.