Debra Markowitz’s “Wait List: A Love-ish Story”: love on standby
There’s a fine line between a rom-com and something far messier—and Wait List: A Love-ish Story doesn’t pretend that line doesn’t exist. Written and directed by Debra Markowitz, the film leans into uncomfortable truth: love that shouldn’t work… but does anyway. What started as a one-day short turned into a full feature in five days, driven by characters that refused to shut up. The result is a dramedy that plays light on the surface but quietly interrogates age, power, timing, and emotional risk underneath. Watch the trailer here.
The origin of wait list
The origin of wait listMarkowitz didn’t plan a feature. It forced itself.
“The characters wouldn’t stop talking to me… I needed to know what happened to them.”
That urgency shows. The film doesn’t feel engineered—it feels chased. Carter and Lisa evolve from a provocative premise into something more grounded: two people trying to justify a connection that doesn’t neatly fit social rules.
Love that doesn’t behave
Love that doesn’t behaveAt the center: a friendship that turns romantic—with consequences.
“Love is messy and complicated, and beautiful and torturous… sometimes all at once.”
The film doesn’t sanitize the risk. It leans into it. Social discomfort isn’t a side effect—it’s the engine. The question isn’t “should they?” It’s “what happens if they do?”
Tone: where comedy meets damage
Tone: where comedy meets damageThe tonal balance is deliberate. Humor doesn’t undercut the drama—it exposes it.
“The joke at a wake… reminds you that you’re human.”
This is where the film works best: moments that feel inappropriate but real. Laughter that lands wrong—and therefore lands harder.
Carter and Lisa: reframing the dynamic
Carter isn’t written as transgressive. He’s written as consistent.
“As a man… he values her in every way possible.”
Lisa, meanwhile, isn’t naïve. She’s reactive.
“She realizes he is not a child anymore.”
Their relationship isn’t built on shock—it’s built on recognition. That’s what makes it uncomfortable.
Avoiding cliché without trying to
The film sidesteps trope by ignoring it.
“If you write from the truth… you’re going to have real emotions.”
No overthinking. No genre gymnastics. Just character-first writing—and trusting it holds.
Performances that shift the material
Travis Grant and Bec Fordyce don’t play archetypes.
“He has… old soul energy.”“She’s never afraid to take her characters anywhere.”
That combination matters. Without it, the premise collapses into gimmick. With it, the film breathes.
Intimacy without fakery
The film treats boundaries as process, not afterthought.
“We choreograph the scenes together… to make sure they work for everybody.”
That shows in the final product—scenes feel negotiated, not imposed.
The pivot: fun to fallout
The turning point is clinical.
Pregnancy scare. Age reality. Emotional mismatch.
“It highlights the differences in their ages.”
From there, the film stops pretending this is casual.
What “wait list” actually means
The title isn’t cute. It’s structural.
“Waiting to grow up… waiting for the love of your life… waiting to be happy.”
Everyone in the film is delayed. Emotionally. Socially. Logistically.
Production: constraints as design
This is indie filmmaking without illusions.
“Budget is almost always the biggest issue.”
So the film adapts: fewer locations, tighter spaces, performance-driven scenes. It works because it has to.
Audience and friction
The premise should divide people. It mostly doesn’t.
“The characters are so… loveable that the audience just goes along.”
That’s the trick. Not softening the idea—softening the people inside it.
Love in its purest form
Markowitz defines it simply:
“Each person would want the other person to be happy… even if it means being with other people.”
That’s not romantic. It’s inconvenient. Which is the point.
What comes next
Markowitz isn’t staying in one lane. A dark drama (From the Embers), a Christmas film (Yule Tide), and a horror spin-off (Franklin) are already in motion. The connective tissue isn’t genre—it’s character-first storytelling.
The interview
The interviewOn expanding the story
Why did this become a feature?
Because the characters didn’t stop. Simple as that.
On risk
Why this relationship?
Because it feels real, even if it’s uncomfortable.
On tone
How do you balance comedy and pain?
By not separating them.
On Carter
What grounds him?Consistency across time—child, teen, adult.
On Lisa
Why does she engage?Because she sees change—and needs to feel valued.
On cliché
Did you try to avoid it?No. Wrote truth instead.
On casting
What did the actors add?
Depth that wasn’t explicitly written.
On directing
How do you handle intimacy?
Collaboratively.
On structure
Where does it turn?
Pregnancy scare. Reality hits.
On theme
What is “wait list”?
Delay—in love, life, identity.
On production
Money. Always.
On audience
Who responds most?
Women 40+, gay men—but broader than expected.
Wait List: A Love-ish Story is now on Prime Video. It sells itself as light. It isn’t. It’s a film about timing—and how often it’s wrong.
