I’m Marcel Cornelius, and I’m making Shadows of Atlantis out of one studio, a stack of sketches, and a stubborn belief that atmosphere can carry you across the world. The story ranges from Egypt’s heat to New York’s vertical rush to the wind‑cut cliffs of the Azores yet every frame is built here at home. That choice keeps me close to the details that matter: light, texture, rhythm, silence.
My Egypt starts with the way morning turns stone the color of cardamom. I collect fragments hand‑painted signs that have outlived their shops, woven baskets with a memory in every fiber, brass that refuses to shine evenly and translate them into sets that feel lived in. When an actor crosses a narrow “alley,” I want the air to thin, the footfall to soften, and the pause between lines to carry as much weight as the lines themselves.
New York, to me, is a rhythm first and a skyline second. I stage scenes like a brisk walk against a green light: brick and iron, stairwells that climb out of frame, a lobby directory with names that hint at unseen lives. Even when the camera holds still, the city in my head keeps time horns, shoes on metal grate, a radio two rooms away. That pulse is what pushes the images forward.
The Azores are an inhale. I frame jagged “coastlines” with shadow and shape, lean into slate skies and sea‑spray whites, and let basalt carry the memory of fire. These scenes ask for longer holds and fewer words; the landscape should get the last line, even under studio lamps. I want viewers to feel the air thin out, the world widen, the decision arrive.
Like many of you, I’ve been watching Indiana Jones and the Great Circle—the video game from MachineGames and Bethesda with real excitement. It’s a first‑person, single‑player adventure set in 1937, between Raiders of the Lost Arkand The Last Crusade, available on Xbox and PC, and it later arrived on PS5 (April 17, 2025). Seeing Indy work so well in that interactive space is a reminder that this kind of adventure still matters—and it motivates me to craft a cinematic answer that’s distinctly my own.

Production is underway. My days are a loop of scene notes, set resets, and coffee strong enough to wake a statue. Several roles are locked and already leaving fingerprints on the footage. Some key pieces are still open—most importantly, the primary antagonist. I’m reviewing tapes because that role needs more than menace; it needs presence, intelligence, and the kind of quiet that changes a room.
Between setups I collect little truths: a scuffed suitcase label, a crooked street poster that only appears for three seconds, the way dust hangs when the door closes. These details are why I chose to build faraway places here. They’re proof that imagination travels fine on local roads.
Thank you for following along. I’ll share more as Shadows of Atlantis grows—one sketch, one set, one heartbeat at a time. And if The Great Circle reminded you how good mystery can feel, I hope this film will meet you with that same spark, seen from a different angle.