parallel× pitch&co A first film · September 2026Sep 2026
A first film, and the thinking behind it. Rough on purpose.

Everyone's asking what work will become. We're asking what you will.

Cory, this is the concept and a first-pass script, as far as I can take them without you. Ninety seconds. Your footage, eighty years of New York, and you in the middle as the proof. We write the rest together.

Book 30 minutes Read the script
:90 the film :45 and :15 cutdowns 3 sources, one city Sep 30 out Written with you

Your rough cut, and New York from 1940 to the seventies. Every frame here is real.

What I saw

I got to the two-minute mark before anyone looked into the lens.

I watched the rough twice, then once more with the sound off. The footage is better than the film. Empty Soho at dawn, a fruit cart on a side street, a bar being set up. Then, at two minutes, four strangers in the park look straight at the camera one after another, and that's the movie. It's buried.

Your note was right on all three counts. The copy on the first version of this page was mine, in a hurry, and it read like it. The film said nothing about the moment we're in. And it cut you out entirely, which cut the argument out with you, because the argument was in your voiceover the whole time.

Your rough, at 0:42
"Work was never the problem. Choosing it blindly was."

That's the thesis. In the rough it's a line on the way to your biography. In the film it's the turn.

The film, at 1:12
"Everyone's asking what work will become. We're asking what you will."

The moment, and the answer to it, in one sentence. Your endline follows it. A life's work is the thing you became.

The question on every feed this month

What will you become?

Work has changed in every decade this city has been filmed. People kept becoming things. Parallel exists for the second half of that sentence.

The thesis

Work doesn't become anything. People do.

Everyone's asking what work becomes now that Asta is out. I went looking for a job platform that had said anything about it. None had. Your manifesto already does: in the coming decade, millions won't just change jobs, they'll have to reinvent themselves. Reinvention is becoming. The film takes the question everyone is asking about machines and turns it back on the person watching.

Why the vintage New York earns its place now. A shoeshiner on West Eighth Street in 1943. A couple on the Third Avenue El in 1950. A girl in Central Park in 1975. Work looked different in every one of those frames, and the people in them were becoming something anyway. Cut against your New York in 2026, that's the argument, not decoration.

The question

What will work become?

Headlines, feeds, six voices asking the same thing. The first twenty seconds of the film. Your grey New York, now.

The turn

Wrong question.

Your line, "Work was never the problem. Choosing it blindly was," said over the 1950 El. The one moment the music drops.

The proof

The becamings

People who became something, each with a card. Then and now. You in the middle of them, twenty seconds, told as evidence.

Your story, as proof

You're not the subject. You're the evidence.

Eight days ago you said don't make it about me. This week you said the film doesn't connect to your story. Both are right, and the fix is the same. Twenty seconds in the middle of ninety, in your own words from the rough, with one word changed.

TonyShoeshiner, Vincent's barber shop, West Eighth Street. 1943.
CoryBands. A clothing line. A wine bar. Parallel. 2026.
A cookMaking ravioli at Marcobi's, Mulberry Street. 1943.

The archive cards are real captions from the Library of Congress. The 2026 cards beside yours come from Parallel users, once you tell me who to ask. I haven't written any, on purpose.

The mix

Three sources, one city.

Your rough cut, New York then, and the world now, cut against each other so the 1943 barber answers your bartender. I pulled the archive this week. It's cleared and it's free.

Source one · yours

New York, now

Every third shot in the film. The dawn streets, the fruit cart, the four faces, you at the laptop.

Source two · public domain, cleared

New York, then

Kodachrome from the Third Avenue El, 1950. Coney Island, 1940. Central Park home movies from the seventies. Marjory Collins' 1943 portraits for the Office of War Information. Library of Congress and Prelinger Archives, all of it.

Source three · licensed

The world, now

About twenty cinematic clips of people at work, pulled from our libraries after we pick the direction. I haven't written the shot list because nobody's seen the clips yet, and a list of imaginary shots is exactly the kind of writing you flagged.

The script, first pass

A hundred and seven spoken words. Half of them are already yours.

Ninety seconds. Read flat, to one person. Six of these lines are lifted from your rough. One line is the thesis. Everything else is a name, a place, or a year. This is the draft we mark up together, not the one we record.

0:00

Black. The track alone.

0:03

Headlines. Real ones, three or four, read by different voices: "what will work become." Your grey New York, now.

0:08

Everyone's asking what work will become.

0:14

Work as we know it is shifting.
Some call it a crisis. Others call it freedom.

0:22

The music drops. The Third Avenue El, 1950.

0:25

Work was never the problem.
Choosing it blindly was.

0:32

This city has been asked that question in every decade it's been filmed.

0:38

Tony, 1943. The couple on the train, 1950. The girl in the park, 1975. Cards.

0:44

I toured in bands. Ran a clothing line. Opened a wine bar.

0:50

From the outside, it looked like I was lost.
I wasn't. I was becoming.

0:57

The becamings. Then and now, one card per face. Your four in the park. You at the laptop, one card among them.

1:04

People are made to create. To be challenged. To contribute.

1:12

Everyone's asking what work will become.
We're asking what you will.

1:20

Took me twenty years to find my life's work.
I hope it helps you find yours.

1:26

Find your life's work. Parallel.

The track

Two tracks. The thesis lands on the loudest second of either.

Both are references for shape. We cut the music to the story: the drop at 0:22 stays whole, the build gets trimmed. Lean In peaks at the end, so the thesis lands on the peak. Your Epidemic track peaks in the middle, so the becamings ride the peak and the thesis lands in the quiet after. I'd hear both against the script before choosing.

Reference: Lean In2:22 · half-time feel
THE BUZZ PUSH THE TURN THE BUILD THE THESIS OUT 0:00 0:36 1:00 1:28 1:54 2:08 2:22

The turn sits in the quiet. The thesis lands on the peak. License chosen with you; this sound, or the nearest we can clear.

Alternate: As History Unfolds · Christoffer Moe Ditlevsen2:13 · airier, faster, Epidemic Sound
AIR THE BUZZ THE BECAMINGS THE THESIS, QUIET 0:00 0:16 0:48 1:20 1:36 2:13

Peaks early, ends in the quiet. The becamings ride the loud middle. The thesis and your last line land in the tail, near silence. Licensable today on the Epidemic plan.

Why now

The question is being asked this month. Next month someone else answers it.

The homepage says human potential company. Nothing on the site proves it yet. This film is the first thing that would.

You have the footage. Summer light, a city that looks like this year. In November it looks like last year.

The site made the rounds once, in 2023, and the attention had nothing to land on. I'd rather the next wave arrive to a film and a sentence.

An editor will cut what's there. The thesis isn't there yet. That's the part I'm for.

Where the money comes back. One of these covers the film.

  1. The homepage. Every visitor sees the film before deciding on $99 a month. We read visit-to-signup on Oct 30, before and after. About a hundred employer-months pays for the film. Nine employers staying a year.
  2. The release. Your first public post since November, with a film instead of a screenshot. The :45 and :15 keep it in feeds for weeks.
  3. Ads, when you run them. The :15 is the creative. If it lifts signup rate by a fifth, it pays out of whatever you spend later.
  4. A hire. One senior candidate who watches ninety seconds and stops interviewing elsewhere is a recruiter fee. At your size that's the film.
  5. The next story. Once the line, the track, and the archive exist, story two is a week of editing instead of a month of deciding. That's the part I'd pay for if I were you.
The film, priced

One film. One number. Out this month.

The Parallel film
$10,000

Flat. The concept and the script written with you, the archive, the licensed clips, the cut, the cutdowns, and a one-page foundation so the next story starts from here. No shoot. You already shot New York.

Half at kickoff, half at final. First cut seven days after the VO lands. Two rounds of notes.

If the first cut isn't it, say so. You pay the first half, keep the script, the archive pull, and the foundation page, and we stop there.

You own the film and every source file. Crew: Rob Sicat, words and direction, and one editor.

  • 01The concept and the script, written with you in two working sessions, locked before we cut a frame
  • 02Direction on your re-record, and a cast read alongside it if you want the comparison
  • 03Archival research: New York 1940 to 1979, Library of Congress and Prelinger, public domain, cleared, with a rights log per frame
  • 04About twenty licensed cinematic clips of people at work, chosen with you
  • 05The 90-second film, three sources graded to match, cut to the track
  • 06Music cleared for Parallel's channels, mix, grade, and the :90, :45, and :15 for LinkedIn, X, Instagram, and the site
  • 07The foundation on one page: the line, the card format, the mix rule, the proof-not-subject rule. Yours to keep.

Week 1 · Sep 14

Mon

30 minutes, live

We pick the direction and write the first pass of the script together. Raw footage lands in the Dropbox folder.

Wed

Script and sources signed off

The VO on one page, the archive pull on one board. You approve both before anything is cut.

Fri

VO recorded

Your read, directed. A cast read alongside it if you want it.

Week 2 · Sep 21

Mon to Thu

The cut

Built to the track, with every source already on the drive.

Fri

First cut to you

The :90. Notes in one doc.

Weekend

Round one

Every note addressed. Round two is polish.

Week 3 · Sep 28

Mon

Final

Mix, grade, the :45 and the :15, every crop.

Tue

On the site

Homepage hero. Visit-to-signup baseline recorded the day before.

Wed, Sep 30

Released

LinkedIn first, your post, drafted by us. Then X and Instagram over the week.

At kickoff

What I need from you.

After the film

What the film leaves behind, on one page.

Four decisions we make while making this one, written down so the next story starts from them. None of the work below is owed now.

The line

Everyone's asking what work will become. We're asking what you will.

What Parallel says in the AI moment. Your endline answers it.

The format

The card

A name, what they were, what they became, a year. Every future story is a set of these. So is every Parallel user.

The mix

Yours, then, world

Three sources, one city, and an archive that's already pulled and cleared.

The rule

Proof, not subject

The founder appears as evidence for the thesis, never as the hero. It's what keeps this from being an ad.

What could grow from it

Series

Becamings

One person per piece, 45 to 60 seconds, the card format. Parallel users first.

Founder

Twenty years of becoming

Your LinkedIn, weekly. The memoir from the rough, one chapter at a time.

Product

The card, in the app

Every profile ends with what the person is becoming. The film's format becomes the product's.

Later this year

The product film

The louder one you wanted to save. It lands harder once the sentence means something.

Let's write it.

Thirty minutes picks the direction. The raw in the folder starts the clock. The film is out before the month is.

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