106 Minutes in Christian Vegas: WILL WOOD's genre-defying return, exclusively on Patreon

Here's what you need to know about Will Wood's triumphant return from his two-year artistic exile: the man came back swinging, and he's not particularly interested in whether or not you can keep up.

"Slouching Towards Branson" is 106 minutes of genre-defying chaos that refuses every attempt at easy categorization. It's not quite a comedy special, not exactly a concert film, and definitely not what anyone expected from an artist who spent the better part of 2023-2024 on indefinite hiatus after his TikTok-fueled fanbase got a little too intense for comfort.

Shot across multiple venues (House of Blues Anaheim, Rialto Theater Tucson, and Aladdin Theatre Portland) by cinematographer Jake Feldman, the film weaves together musical performances with stand-up comedy and deeply personal storytelling. The central narrative follows Wood's trip to Branson, Missouri (or "Christian Vegas" in Wood’s words) for what started as a timeshare presentation and somehow triggered existential revelations about artistic mortality and creative authenticity.

The runtime doesn't drag, thanks to pacing that knows exactly when to hit you with a song and when to let Wood's storytelling take center stage. Without spoiling anything, his trademark absurdist humor reaches peak form in moments where his logic takes genuinely unexpected turns that'll have you questioning your own moral compass while doubled over laughing. The man's got a gift for finding comedy in existential dread.

After watching “Branson” and diving into our conversation, one thing becomes abundantly solidified: Will Wood still has zero interest in playing the parasocial relationship game that defines most artist-fan dynamics in 2025. Even his Patreon page description devolves into pure performance art after a heartfelt request: "Don't second-screen this movie. I'd rather you keep your money than have you buy this to watch it while scrolling... Oh, and one more thing: thanks for the money. I will use it to buy crypto."

So yeah, I sent over some questions...and Wood had some things to say about fan culture, artistic authenticity, and why disappointing the right people might just be the most honest thing an artist can do.

AG: Reviewers have called "Slouching Towards Branson" both brutally honest and theatrical. How much of what audiences see is genuine vulnerability, and how much is a carefully crafted performance? Is the ambiguity part of the experience?

WW: Before I answer your questions, I think it's important to acknowledge that I've read them over and you seem intimately familiar with the online fandom. My publicist tells me you're a fan, and it would be misleading if we didn't mention it in the interview, and hard for me to answer the questions honestly otherwise.

I'm not just speaking to the interviewer when I'm doing an interview, I'm communicating to the public, so please keep in mind that if it seems like I'm pushing back at you with anything personally, I'm not. I answer all of these with nothing but appreciation and respect to you, but I also have to answer them honestly and with the knowledge that I'm actually speaking to many other people.

So first I need to say, it's always a pleasure to meet a fan and I'm glad you enjoy my work. To the question itself I don't think of those things as being at odds. Carefully crafting the performance is what allows me to say more with fewer words, which in some way I think makes it more genuine and vulnerable than I could be in two hours or outside of the context of a piece of art.

His approach to authenticity is refreshingly direct: performance as a vehicle for truth rather than a mask to hide behind.

AG: Does your poker face ever feel like you're playing a high-stakes bluff with your audience? How do you balance keeping people guessing with showing genuine vulnerability?

WW: I'm not sure I know what you mean. I don't think of anything I'm doing as wearing any sort of poker face. The opposite, if anything. Just like anyone else in my field when I'm on stage I'm performing, and there's stuff I don't bother sharing, but I don't pretend to be someone I'm not or do any bluffing. I don't have much interest in keeping people guessing, at least not at this point in my career. I express what's important for me to express, create and perform what's important for me to create and perform, and leave the rest.

AG: You described the special as "about as true as a true story can be while still being a story." What's the most made-up or exaggerated detail that you think audiences assume is completely factual?

WW: I think it's the other way around. Based on talking to people at shows, it seems like most people think the story is all made-up or exaggerated, when very few parts of it are. Like I say in the show, timing, order of events, and some details are beside the point. But when I say it's about as true as a true story can be while still being a story, I think you took it as meaning the opposite. As a matter of fact, some of the more unbelievable parts of it are the most true-to-life.

It's a story, but it's the truth, and most of it really happened as I explained it, even if I exaggerated the story about the pants.

So the wild shit actually happened—that's just proof that real life is genuinely absurd enough to seem like performance art.

AG: Some fan reviews were critical that they expected more music and less storytelling. How do you handle feedback from fans who come wanting one kind of show but end up with something quite different?

WW: There are definitely still some people who come to my shows not knowing what to expect, so I'm sure some people felt that way, although I have to say this question is the first time I've seen it framed as criticism. Maybe that part of the response is more present on platforms I don't use or in less visible parts of the online fandom. My goal isn't to give people what I think they want, or to take "feedback," my goal is to make something that I believe in, and disappoint everyone who I'm supposed to disappoint while giving others something they didn't know they wanted.

AG: What did Jake Feldman bring to "Slouching Towards Branson" that you might not have achieved working alone? Did the project idea start with a decision to work with somebody or was that a development as it progressed into a reality?

WW: Well of course I knew I needed to work with someone to make it happen from the get-go, I couldn't film it myself haha. Jake is a pleasure to work with and a really talented DP, and without his hard work and input the film wouldn't have come together in the edit the way it did either.

The cinematography works well, mostly static shots that bring you into the room with the audience, with occasional camera movements that match the chaotic turns in Wood's storytelling. You can definitely tell it's stitched together from multiple shows (different sets, different clothes, it's not exactly a secret), but it feels intentionally crafted rather than hastily assembled.

AG: You chose to release “Branson” exclusively on Patreon. Was that a deliberate choice to connect directly with your audience, a way to challenge traditional distribution, or something else? How has it affected your relationship with fans?

WW: It was just the most effective business move, and it let me put it out on my own terms. I would love to get the film to major platforms when I have the time to take on the job. I appreciate the folks who come out to shows, and most of the fans I've met have been lovely people, but I wouldn't say I'm trying to connect with them, at least online and/or in the community it seems you're likely referring to. I don't think about having a relationship with them. I tend to avoid playing that "I love you all" game, most people see right through it, and some of the people who take it seriously develop feelings and expectations I have no interest or ability to manage or take on as some type of responsibility.

And there's the uncomfortable truth most artists won't say out loud: they don't actually want a "relationship" with their fanbase. They want your money and your attention, but your feelings? That's your problem, not theirs.

AG: You're often grouped with artists like Tally Hall, Lemon Demon, and Jack Stauber in the "weird internet music" category. Do you find yourself embracing that comparison, pushing back on it, or simply letting it be?

WW: I don't think there are many outside of the younger side of the online fandom who really make that comparison. There isn't much about my music that's more "internet" than any other artist in the 21st century. Any references to online culture I've made in my work have been critical, and I make a pretty concerted effort to avoid the whole scene. The main thing those artists and I have in common is that we all recently got a wave of interest from that subculture. We come from very different places artistically. I guess I'd push back against it. Not out of any negative thoughts toward those artists, but because it's just something kids who have little frame of reference say because there's an overlap in their spaces, and I'm certain those artists would say the same.

Fair enough. Though personally, in my brain of categorization, he does fall under the same label as those artists. But I think it's important to clarify that it has nothing to do with the musical content or even the vibe of the music itself. Rather, it's just by being less conventional or "radio friendly" mainstream. It isn't "co-worker music,” it's something you usually have to find on your own. Would he still push back on that and say that it seems like a weird way to categorize music? Yeah, probably, but I guess that just makes two weird people in this article.

AG: Your music blends theatrical rock, jazz, folk, electronic sounds, and more. Is that genre diversity something you consciously design, or is it more of an organic product of how your mind works?

WW: I guess to a certain extent those two options are mutually inclusive, yeah? The music is consciously crafted, but I have natural instincts that inform my creative decisions just as much the more intellectualized parts of the process do. I may be going through a period where the songs I write as I go through life are naturally gravitating toward certain sounds, but I might lean into those sounds for conceptual or more conscious reasons as the songs develop or reach a production stage.

AG: Your fanbase often describes itself as a community of humble weirdos and outcasts who connect deeply with your work. When you're sharing something as personal and revealing as "Slouching Towards Branson", do you feel any particular responsibility toward that community, whether artistic, emotional, or otherwise? How does knowing who listens to your music influence what you choose to share or how you present it?

WW: While I think a lot of people who feel like outsiders are drawn to my music, my audience isn't a monolith and isn't represented in full by any individual community and how they self-identify. I'm not a part of that community, and feel pretty separate from it. I don't think I relate to them as much as they feel they relate to me, and I think that there are a lot of people in the online community who project who they want me to be onto who I am, and ignore essential parts of me in order to do so. I've done jokes onstage where entire audiences have vocally responded in a way that showed they took it the opposite way and loved it; and applause for something I'm saying the opposite of is the same as booing me for what I believe in.

There seems to be an assumption of the validity of parasociality and a belief that social media is the real world in the suggestion that I have some responsibility to a "community," and I'm sorry if it feels like I'm pushing back too hard but I need to be honest. It's good to connect with an artist, there's nothing wrong with caring about a stranger and their work from afar, but they will never see you along the same line of sight that you see them, and one needs to keep in mind that the stranger is indeed a stranger, and their work shouldn't be confused for a conversation with you. I create honestly, and I hope that it reaches people who get it, but that doesn't mean that I feel a direct connection with fan communities on their terms. I don't know who listens to my music, and neither do you really, and if I ever let myself fall into the trap of mistaking comment sections for the overall reception of my output I'll be working in a funhouse mirror maze and ruin it. Fans who do that can easily end up distorting their perception of the media, and end up doing things like comparing me to artists I sound nothing like, or associating me with media I'm embarrassed to be associated with because they don't see me, they see the fandom. If I decided I had a responsibility to that community based on my distorted perception of others' distorted perception of me, I'd make extraordinarily terrible art. So if I had any responsibility to the community it seems you're describing, it would be to ignore them to the best of my ability.

Jesus Christ. That's the most thorough deconstruction of fan culture you're likely to read this year. While brutally honest, it's hard to find fault in Wood’s response. Being an artist shouldn't be an obligation to anybody but yourself. Sure, you may get negative judgements from some, but being disingenuous will never breed a better creative product than putting your genuine self into every step.

AG: Now that “Branson” is out in the world, what do you hope people take away from it beyond just entertainment?

WW: Some of what I've said here. I talk about it a bit in the first scene of the movie. It's a fairly large part of it, I guess, expressing that I am a very different person from who the internet expects me to be and that I'm a real person, not a character in a story. I have no choice but to accept that the public perception of me will always be a character in a story regardless of whether or not I'm contributing to that story, but I make the choice to be honest when it's relevant.

I guess I hope the movie, at least to some viewers, communicates the value of serenity. Accept the things you can't change, take the courage to change what you can, find the wisdom to know the difference. I hope I'm saying that the thing that keeps us sane is largely faith and love. Trust in moments of vulnerability, and the baseless core assumption that everything will be okay. A tall order though. I'd accept entertainment.

For someone who spends considerable energy maintaining boundaries with his fanbase, that's a remarkably vulnerable admission. Maybe that's the real genius of "Slouching Towards Branson": Wood has found a way to be genuinely vulnerable while maintaining the emotional distance necessary to create honest art.

If you've never experienced Will Wood's work before, “Branson” serves as an excellent entry point, provided you can actually follow his request for attention. This isn't background music or casual entertainment—it's a 106-minute commitment that rewards focus and punishes distraction. For those who only know Wood through his viral TikTok moment with "I/Me/Myself," this serves as both introduction and reality check; a coin flip's chance of loving or hating him depending entirely on whether you can handle his demand for your full attention.

The special works because Wood isn't performing authenticity; he's simply being authentic, even when that authenticity includes uncomfortable truths about the artist-audience relationship. In an era of manufactured relatability and algorithmic engagement, there's something refreshingly honest about an artist who admits he doesn't know who listens to his music and doesn't particularly want to know. Or manage your feelings about it.

"Slouching Towards Branson" is available exclusively on Will Wood's Patreon for $5 (free for subscribers). Fair warning: he'll probably use your money to buy crypto, and he's not sorry about it.

Will Wood performs live on August 31st in Mesa. Desert Sounds will be there to cover whatever the hell he decides to do next.