The story begins in shadow — Lower East Side grit meets digital prophecy — and now it’s crossing borders.
The Ascension of Moses Cohen is setting its sights on British Columbia, a land where rain hits neon, where old-world tension can live under new-world sky. That mix is the film itself: faith and crime, light and static, redemption wired through distortion.
This isn’t your usual redemption arc. It’s cinematic bass — built to shake speakers as much as it breaks hearts.
The soundtrack runs on EDM energy: heavy percussion, trance undertones, industrial rhythm stitched into the narrative heartbeat. Each character carries a sonic signature — Moses through reverb and sub-bass, Nicky in syncopated chaos, Jack in the drone between breaths.
The film will look like scripture re-written by circuitry: rain-soaked streets, glitch halos, slow-motion betrayal scored to four-on-the-floor absolution. Every shot moves to pulse, not plot.
British Columbia gives it space — the mountains, the fog, the cold steel light — a natural soundstage for a digital story.
When the bass drops, it won’t be just in the club scenes; it’ll be inside the narrative, rewiring what a crime drama can sound like.
The Ascension of Moses Cohen isn’t about finding peace. It’s about what happens when you bring a sermon to a rave and call it cinema.
