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| Keith Gerchak and Marisa Guterman >> |
Whatever chronic illness he was battling, it was a mystery to Keith Gerchak and his doctor - several doctors, if we’re being honest. For six months, he battled a host of vague symptoms, including fatigue and a lingering fever.
Gerchak’s physicians ran him through the gauntlet - blood cultures, viral panels, X-rays and CT scans. They were hunting for infection, autoimmune disease, cancer, thyroid issues, and deep-seated inflammatory conditions. They were coming up with nothing.
“Finally, one of them told me, ‘I think your body is rejecting the path you’re on.’”
Gerchak let that sink in. His illness wasn’t from a virus. It wasn’t an autoimmune disorder.
It was his career choice.
Santino Fontana as Gary Lucarelli
Facing the fever
Doctors have a name for it: psychogenic fever. It’s a real, measurable, stress-induced fever that can persist for months, common among people dealing with burnout, depression and - get this - intense life dissatisfaction. 
Elizabeth Gilbert, author of Eat, Pray, Love, dealt with it. So did legendary musician Bruce Springsteen. In his autobiography, he writes about mysterious body pains and endless medical tests.
When emotions run unchecked — stress, sadness, feeling lost — the body might take up the burden. As Gerchak drifted further from the life he was meant to live, his body rebelled. Only when he found the courage to change course did the fever break, as if his body knew he was lost and was about to be found.
“Even though I had a successful architectural career, there was always a creative pull. That moment, plus a nudge from an old teacher, made me realize I needed to give in to that pull,” says Gerchak. “So I moved to New York, then L.A. That’s where I met Marisa.”
June Squibb and Benjamin Steinhauser
A story that wouldn’t let go
In many ways, growing up in Los Angeles, performance was a way of life, much like steel factories and shipyards in Cleveland, and Marisa Guterman embraced it. 
“I asked my mom for an agent when I was six,” Guterman says. “She couldn’t believe I even knew what that was.”
By seven, Guterman was in love with jazz music and spending her weekends backstage at her mom’s theater productions. Scripts, stories, songs — they surrounded her.
School taught her leadership and fueled her confidence. Guterman knew she could do anything, but, truth be told, she didn’t know exactly what she wanted to do.
She stayed on the acting path through her teens, then took a sharp turn: UC Berkeley, where Guterman designed her major, focused on art and social change. Jazz theory, political science, Russian literature — she chased every passion she could find, following a deeper thread that kept pulling her forward.
Tucked away in the back of her mind was another idea — a story she couldn’t shake and one she had to tell.
“Looking back, it all makes sense,” Guterman says. “Especially after meeting Keith. He gave me the confidence to go for it.”
Marisa Guterman directing a parade scene alongside Keith Gerchak
Finding ‘Lost & Found’
Once they found each other, it wasn’t long before Gerchak and Guterman developed a creative partnership, Double G Films, that would nurture Guterman’s story, feed Gerchak’s creative spirit, and bring their first feature film to life. 
That film, Lost & Found in Cleveland, has already made history. Its Midwest premiere at the Cleveland International Film Festival drew nearly 2,500 moviegoers — the largest single-screen audience in the festival’s history. It also packed Playhouse Square like no film has since the theater’s foundation was established in 1973, according to Cleveland.com.
The hometown story that started with two artists finding their way will soon reach a national audience. Lost & Found in Cleveland hits theaters across the country on Nov. 7, marking the first theatrical release from Double G Films and The Fithian Group’s new Attend platform, which helps filmmakers connect directly with theater owners.
We recently had the privilege to chat with Gerchak and Guterman about life, Lost & Found, and everything in between.
Midwest Movie Maker (MMM): Tell me a bit about how you both found yourself as filmmakers.
Keith Gerchak (KG): I started as a child actor with the Great Lakes Shakespeare Festival. This was in the early '80s when Playhouse Square was still largely abandoned. I remember crawling into the back of the State Theatre because the upstage wall was missing. It was eerie, but fascinating. You could sit there and imagine what those theaters used to be—and what they could become.
At the time, people weren’t going downtown to see shows. We were doing Waiting for Godot in 1983—five actors on stage, four people in the audience. The actors were mostly from New York, and they’d tell me, “Kid, this is a tough industry. You should have a backup plan.”
On a road trip with my parents, I started sketching buildings in the backseat. That led me to architecture. I got my master’s from Tulane, but I kept acting on the side, even starting a theater company at Playhouse Square as it began to revitalize.
Even though I had a successful architectural career—including helping with Playhouse Square’s renovations—there was always a creative pull. So I moved to New York, then Los Angeles. That’s where I met Marisa. And that’s what eventually led to Lost & Found in Cleveland.
Marisa Guterman (MG): My mom produced theater, so I was constantly around scripts, stories, and shows. At the same time, I went to an all-girls school that emphasized leadership. That experience really shaped me—it made me believe I could do anything, and I didn’t even realize that was unusual until later.
I designed my own major focused on art and social change. I took everything from art history and jazz theory to political science and Russian lit. My senior thesis was about fascism and futurism in Italy—pretty niche stuff—but the throughline was always how art reflects and responds to society.
At the time, I thought I’d stay in acting, but I had this idea about Antiques Roadshow that I’d been carrying since high school. I didn’t expect to write and direct, but looking back, it makes sense. Especially after meeting Keith and realizing we shared a vision.
Now that our film is coming out, it’s incredible to think back on that journey and realize—yeah, we did it.
MMM: Lost & Found in Cleveland tells the story of five diverse Clevelanders and how their lives intersect when they attend a taping of Lost & Found, the Antiques Roadshow proxy in the film. Where did the idea come from?
MG: I've had the idea since high school. It stuck with me all this time, and when Keith and I met and started talking creatively, that idea took shape.
KG: Marisa pitched the idea early on, and from the start we knew we didn’t want it to be a mockumentary. We wanted to tell a more poignant story.
The heart of Antiques Roadshow isn’t finding out the monetary value of whatever a person has brought in—it’s the stories behind the objects. For a couple of minutes, someone shares the most meaningful part of their life with a stranger. That idea—the before and after of those two minutes—was what we wanted to explore.
MG: It’s about identity, about the worth we assign to things and ourselves. And that’s something we can all relate to. Those connections between people, through objects, are what make the film resonate.
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| Creating props for the parade scene at the Western Reserve Historical Society |
MMM: That makes the objects much more than a plot device, right?
MG: The objects allow us to tell stories about memory, identity, and belonging in a way that’s indirect but deeply emotional. The goal was to create something apolitical—a film anyone could watch, laugh at, and connect with on a human level.
KG: Here’s an example from real life. My grandmother, who lived on the East Side, used to collect coins. She’d save the interesting ones for her grandchildren’s college funds. I was the only grandchild, and I ended up getting a full scholarship to Tulane.
After she passed away, I had to sell the coin collection to afford my move to New York. It felt like I was giving up the last tether to her.
But my mom said, “You’d be honoring her dream by following yours.” That moment stuck with me. For me, this film has replaced the coin collection. It is now my tether to her.
MMM: Did anything from your past inspire the objects featured in the film?
KG: We’ve had this long-standing collection of antimacassars—lace covers for chairs—that originally belonged to my husband’s grandmother. It was inherited, and when we moved into our place in L.A., I suddenly found myself surrounded by them. There was this anxiety: What does this say about me?
Even though it wasn’t my collection, I still felt self-conscious about it. That dynamic became the seed for one of the film’s storylines.
Another inspiration came from a real-life mail carrier I met at a party. He overheard my name, then rattled off my old address. Turns out, he was my substitute mail carrier for just one day—but he remembered everything. It struck me: mail carriers are intimate strangers. They know so much about us—where we bank, when we travel—but we rarely even learn their names.
That led to the idea of the “glass-faced” mail carrier in the film—a metaphor for transparency, visibility, and how we often overlook the dreams of people in service professions. One person told us after watching the film, “I feel significant.” That meant everything.
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| Jon Lovitz as the Mayor of Cleveland and 'Antiques Roadshow' host Mark L. Walberg as 'Lost & Found' host Tom L. Hanks |
MMM: We should talk a little bit about your star-studded cast. Everyone from Dennis Haysbert and Stacy Keach to Jon Lovitz - in an inspired role as the Mayor - and Dayton’s own Martin Sheen.
My favorite, though? June Squibb. And you got her at the top of her game!
MG: June has been part of this film from the very beginning. In fact, in the first iteration of the project, she and Ed Asner were the first two actors to sign on. So when Thelma came out and she suddenly became a cultural icon, it was wild—but not surprising to us. She’s always been that good.
KG: There’s a scene where June’s character is putting on lipstick. That’s it. Just putting on lipstick. But the way she does it... it makes me cry every time. It’s a quiet, emotional moment that says so much without a single word. Honestly, I think it’s Academy Award-worthy.
MG: Audiences are hungry for authentic, human stories—especially those that include older characters. There’s a whole demographic that’s been overlooked. People want to see themselves on screen, and June brings a level of depth and empathy that’s rare.
KG: Yeah, and back then, there was a producer who told us flat-out, “You’ll never sell this movie if June Squibb is your lead.” I wish we could find that guy now and show him what June’s doing.
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| Setting up a shot on one of the last days of location filming |
MMM: Clevelanders who have seen the film say they can tell where a character lives just by their demeanor. How did you pull that off?
KG: We wanted characters who felt authentic to Cleveland’s neighborhoods. A mail carrier from Hough. A retired steelworker from Slavic Village. A single mom working at the Malley’s chocolate plant. A little boy growing up beneath the Hope Memorial Bridge.
That bridge name—“Hope Memorial”—is full of irony. One of the homes we filmed in, one of Cleveland’s earliest, was demolished after we finished. They put up a fancy townhouse. So we’re grateful that, through the film, we were able to preserve even a little piece of Cleveland history.
MG: That kind of loss happens all the time—in Cleveland and across the country. So it meant something to us to capture these homes before they were gone. The house may no longer stand, but now it’s eternal in the film.
MMM: How does Cleveland serve as a character?
KG: When people in Hollywood read our script, they’d ask, “What ties all these characters together?” And we’d say, “Cleveland.” That’s the common thread. We weren’t interested in turning Cleveland into a generic backdrop or staging action scenes downtown just to “show it off.” Cleveland was going to play itself. It was going to be the soul of the story.
I grew up on the West Side, but spent weekends on the East Side with my grandmother. So, I’ve always had a foot in both worlds—the Polish bakeries, the bagel shops, the Flats. We even joked in the script about the East Side–West Side “great divide” and needing a passport to cross it. But the truth is, Cleveland’s full of these rich, distinct communities—and we wanted each to be represented in the film.
MG: The way we treated the city was incredibly intentional. We wanted every location to feel lived-in and true to the people who live here. We curated the homes, the streets, the details—down to the wallpaper. Cleveland isn’t just the setting; it’s the emotional glue.
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| Ohio president William McKinley's spirit is alive and well in 'Lost & Found' |
MMM: And there are ties to The Wizard of Oz? Is that right?
KG: About a week after Marisa and I started developing the idea, I took my mom to the William McKinley Presidential Library and Museum in Canton, Ohio. It’s this quirky place with a dinosaur exhibit, a planetarium, animatronic McKinleys—you name it. But in the middle of all that, there was an exhibit about The Wizard of Oz.
It said the story was an allegory for the American dream during McKinley’s administration. Dorothy represented the common man. The Tin Man stood for industrial workers and the Scarecrow for farmers. Oz stood for “ounce” and the gold standard. McKinley was the Wizard, and the man behind the curtain was Marcus Hanna—a powerful Cleveland political figure who ran McKinley’s campaign and lived on Millionaire’s Row.
That exhibit connected all the dots: Ohio, the American dream, industry, politics, identity—and I called Marisa right from the parking lot and said, “I found the tone.”
MG: The Wizard of Oz metaphor gave us the framework to elevate Cleveland. Each character in the film echoes a figure from the Oz story: the mail carrier, the retired steelworker, the young boy. Instead of looking for a brain, a heart, and courage, they’re all carrying found objects—heirlooms—and seeking something deeper: value, memory, identity.
KG: Instead of traveling to the Emerald City, they’re headed to Antiques Roadshow. The appraisers become our version of the Wizard, offering insight into the characters' self-worth. That final message is the same as the one from Oz: what they were looking for was with them all along.
MG: It’s also a subtle commentary on the American dream. That dream doesn’t always mean “getting rich.” It can mean finding purpose, honoring family, or simply being seen. And that’s a message that resonates with almost everyone who sees the film.
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| Dennis Haysbert and Martin Sheen in 'Lost & Found in Cleveland' |
MMM: What was it like shooting the film throughout the city?
MG: Like with any independent film, there were challenges. We lost some locations the day before filming. We’d fall in love with a space, and then it would fall through. But somehow—every time—we ended up with something better. It was wild. Exhilarating and stressful.
KG: At one point, the Western Reserve Historical Society stepped in at the last minute when our original parade location fell through. Century Antiques came through, too. Everyone—from big organizations to small businesses—really rallied to help us get this film made.
MG: We joke that it’s a two-hander—Keith and me—because we touched every part of the production. We scouted our own locations, designed shots around specific wallpapers we found on Zillow.
We wanted to tell the story of Cleveland authentically. So we filmed at places like The Nash and St. Stanislaus Church in Slavic Village—locations that are the heartbeat of their communities. We weren’t just shooting in Cleveland. We were telling Cleveland’s story. I even ended up moving into one of the houses we found during scouting!
MMM: How amazing was it to watch the Cleveland premiere?
MG: I couldn’t be at the Newport Beach premiere—I was having a baby! But I got to experience it for the first time in Cleveland, and honestly, it was one of the best experiences of my life.
We’ve worked on this film for so many years, and to see it finally connect with an audience so deeply… It was overwhelming in the best way. Keith and I were standing in the back watching people cry, gasp, laugh.
What really moved me was seeing people with walkers and canes who still made the effort to come downtown to the theater. It showed how meaningful the story was. It felt like the beginning of something special.
KG: Playhouse Square has always been like home to me. To screen the movie there—it was surreal. People I hadn’t seen in 40 years were in that audience. My second-grade teacher’s daughter was there, and we were both crying during a scene that was a personal nod to her mom. That kind of moment—where our personal history and the city’s story came together—is something I’ll never forget.
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| The 'Lost & Found' crew set up a parade shot |
MMM: How has the response been outside of Ohio?
KG: We had a screening in L.A. where a studio exec from Paramount asked, “How did you do this on an indie budget?” They’d spent $100 million building sets like ours. And we just said, “We didn’t build them. We filmed them—because they’re real, and people opened their doors to us.”
MG: That’s the magic of Cleveland. It’s full of people who believe in stories. Our neighbors let us film in their homes. Businesses stayed open late. Crew members became friends. One of the homeowners even became my actual neighbor!
KG: It felt like divine timing—like the film was anointed in some way. Things just kept falling into place, almost as if Cleveland itself wanted this story to be told.
MG: We want to support Cleveland’s film community, and we want others to see what’s possible here. The people, the locations, the history—it’s all here. You just need to look.
MMM: Marisa, you mentioned earlier that you moved into the house where you filmed part of the movie. What made you want to pick up stakes and flee to the CLE?
MG: After filming, my husband and I returned to L.A. thinking we’d settle down. But we couldn’t shake the feeling that Cleveland had something we didn’t want to leave behind. The people here care about you for who you are—not for what you can do for them. We were living in Beverly Hills and West Hollywood, and life just felt harder there.
So we called a realtor, looked at 10 houses, and made an offer—while I was pregnant. We took the leap, and it’s been one of the most rewarding decisions. Our neighbors bring us cookies!
I feel pride living here, and this city now feels like a part of who I am. The movie lives with me here, and that’s magical.
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| The dream sequence from 'Lost & Found in Cleveland' |
MMM: What kind of legacy do you hope the movie carries?
MG: We hope it becomes a holiday tradition, too. Like, maybe every year, people say, “It’s almost Christmas—let’s watch Lost and Found in Cleveland.” They gather the family, make some hot cocoa, and share in something that feels warm and familiar.
And then maybe people come to Cleveland to see the film locations, experience the food, the culture, the architecture. They spend a holiday weekend immersed in it.
And of course, A Christmas Story is an iconic film and a tradition all its own. Because much of it was shot here, Cleveland has adopted it as its own. But the movie isn’t about Cleveland. Lost & Found in Cleveland is. Not just one house or one street, but the whole city.
That’s the kind of legacy we dream about.
MMM: Soon we’ll all get a chance to see Lost & Found in Cleveland in theaters nationwide. Pretty amazing.
MG: Even as streaming has become the norm, we never let go of our belief that Lost & Found in Cleveland belonged in a movie theater. This film is about community—about connecting with others and feeling seen—and the theater is one of the last places where we can experience that together.
We’re proud to say the film opens in theaters on November 7, and we have a 45-day exclusive theatrical window. That’s incredibly meaningful to us.
KG: To hear people laugh, gasp, cry—all together in the same space—that’s irreplaceable. You just can’t replicate that on your couch.
MG: And beyond the personal connections, we feel like this film is making a statement: independent films belong in theaters. Original stories deserve to be seen. They deserve a platform. We’re so proud to be part of that movement.
Cleveland has long been a city of reinvention — a place where stories are written in steel, struggle, and second acts. Lost & Found in Cleveland captures that spirit on screen.
For Gerchak and Guterman, it proves what they’ve believed all along. Sometimes, the real treasure isn’t what you find — it’s where you find yourself.
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