Inside the Mind of Mark H. Rapaport: The Director Behind Hippo

I was in NYC visiting a friend this past fall. We had nothing planned, just aimlessly wandering the city, when he mentioned a new film playing at the Quad Cinema called Hippo. I had never heard of the film or its director, Mark H. Rapaport, but when I saw that one of my favorite actors, Eric Roberts, was in it, I knew I had to check it out.

Before seeing Hippo, my friend and I were slipping out of a hazy fog—a state that, in hindsight, was the perfect way to be introduced to the film. Hippo follows a peculiar adolescent and his Hungarian step-sister, Buttercup, as they struggle to come of age in late 1990s America under the roof of a mother who has been institutionalized at least once.

Hippo

Mark H. Rapaport’s Hippo isn’t an easy film to categorize. It’s unsettling, darkly hilarious, and bizarrely relatable—a cocktail of psychological horror and absurdist comedy that feels like a love child of David Lynch and Yorgos Lanthimos. It’s the kind of film that sticks with you, gnawing at your brain long after the credits roll.

When I sat down with Rapaport, fresh off watching Hippo for the second time, he greeted me with a mix of gratitude and self-awareness. “I appreciate you seeing it twice,” he said. “I think it really hits different in a theater.”

Comedy Meets the Absurd

Like many directors, Rapaport’s journey wasn’t a straight shot. There was no singular film that changed his life, no lightning-bolt moment where he realized he was destined for cinema. But there were bread crumbs along the way—Catch Me If You Can was one of the first movies he saw in a theater that made him go, Whoa, this is a really good movie. But his real creative awakening didn’t come from film. It came from comedy.

“I wanted to be a comedian,” he admitted. “For years, I thought I was going to write for a show like The Simpsons.” He took stand-up classes, performed improv at UCB in New York, and pursued comedy with the same obsessive energy his film’s protagonist dedicates to video games. “The comedy world is brutal,” he said. “The constant rejection, the unpredictability—it’s not for everyone.”

Filmmaking, on the other hand, offered control. “You can shape the narrative in a way you just can’t with stand-up.” Slowly, his passion shifted. Sketches turned into short films. He produced a low-budget horror flick at 21 that ‘somehow made its way onto Netflix’

“It didn’t make waves, but it was proof that we could actually make something people would pay for.”

That’s when he realized he wanted to direct.

“I kept producing, but I was always itching to jump in. And when you’re the producer, you’re not supposed to do that,” he laughed. “I needed to just admit to myself that I wanted to be the guy calling the shots.”

Hippo is hard to define—too disturbing to be a straightforward comedy, too funny to be pure horror. When I asked Rapaport how he’d label it, he hesitated. “I’d call it a dark comedy now, but I didn’t go into it thinking that. I just wanted to make something disturbing, something that would provoke a reaction.”

That reaction, as it turns out, often involved laughter. “It’s wild to me—people were cracking up at parts I thought would be horrifying. But I get it. It’s like Happiness by Todd Solondz. You go in expecting one thing, and it morphs into something else. The film belongs to the audience, and they define what it is.”

The Origins of Hippo

The seed of Hippo came from a single image: a guy so addicted to video games he starts to believe he’s a god. Rapaport and his collaborator, Kimball, initially brainstormed something they could shoot cheaply—something that could take place in his grandma’s house. “We didn’t think we were gods when we played video games, but we were completely absorbed. What if someone’s mom actually feared their kid was becoming what they always warned against?”

And thus, Hippo was born.

Enter Eric Roberts

One of the film’s most unexpected elements is the appearance of Eric Roberts as the film's narrator, a Hollywood veteran with an Oscar nomination under his belt. How did Rapaport land him? “We met on a short film I did during COVID. At first, I couldn’t believe he even agreed to do it,” he said. “But he was super supportive. We kept in touch, and when Hippo came around, he made room for it. The guy works a lot, but somehow, he made it happen.”

‘It’s Always Black & White’

One of the most striking choices in Hippo is its stark black-and-white cinematography. When I brought it up, Rapaport grinned. “Budget,” he admitted. “Shooting in black and white is cheaper. You don’t have to worry about color correction or matching temperatures. It strips everything down to contrast and composition.”

But there was also an artistic reason. “Filmmakers I admire—Nolan with Following, Aronofsky with Pi, even Greta Gerwig with Frances Ha—they all used black and white for their early work. It simplifies things, forces you to focus on the essentials.”

His cinematographer, William Babcock, was hesitant at first. “He was like, ‘I don’t want to do it just because it looks cool.’

But once he read the script, he got it. The movie’s so absurd and chaotic—the black and white actually grounds it.”

For Rapaport, it also eliminated a common headache. “Color grading is hell. With black and white, you’re boxed in. I like that.”

The Business of Indie Filmmaking

Beyond aesthetics, we dove into the gritty reality of independent filmmaking. Rapaport recently wrapped his second feature, this time with a bigger team behind him. When I asked if he sees Hippo as a film that demands a theatrical experience, he didn’t hesitate.

“Yes, ideally, but the reality of indie filmmaking is different,” he said. “Most people will probably see it on VOD. That’s just how it is. We had a great theatrical run for a small film, but you can’t rely on big distribution deals.”

He’s seen firsthand how difficult it is to get indie films into major theaters or streaming platforms. “The system is broken. There needs to be another way to distribute independent films. Right now, too many amazing movies sit in limbo after festivals, waiting for a buyer who never comes.”

“We were gonna make Hippo no matter what. If we had to shoot it for $**K instead of $***K, we would’ve found a way.”

So what advice does he have for aspiring filmmakers? “Find one person who gets it. One person who sees what you see. That’s the key. That, and absolute blind belief in yourself.”

We closed out with a classic question: What’s one movie everyone should see before they die?

“A Serious Man by the Coen Brothers. It’s a hilarious take on life’s biggest questions.”

As our conversation wound down, it was clear that Rapaport isn’t just another indie filmmaker trying to break through—he’s someone who understands the raw, chaotic nature of storytelling and embraces it fully.

If Hippo is any indication, his career is just getting started. And for those of us who were lucky enough to stumble into that hazy screening at the Quad Cinema, it felt like witnessing the birth of something truly special—an uncompromising vision that lingers long after the screen goes dark.