Remembering Debra Hill: A Personal Story of A Female Pioneer in Hollywood

Recently Jamie Lee Curtis posted an affectionate tribute to the late Debra Hill and I learned of a documentary honoring Debra—and suddenly, I was swept back into a treasured memory. Not only did I get to meet Debra when I was in high school, but my mom actually went to Dominican High School in Detroit with her. That tight-knit group of friends they had? They are all still in touch to this day—something Debra always cherished.

One of my favorite family stories is how Debra helped them celebrate their collective 40th birthdays (that’s my mom to Debra’s immediate left in the white skirt). She flew them all out to California, sent a limousine to pick them up, and brought them straight to her movie set. At the time, she was working on The Fisher King, so my mom got to meet Robin Williams and Jeff Bridges in the middle of their filming day. For someone from Detroit, it was a surreal and unforgettable brush with Hollywood magic and a treasured memory for that group of friends. What I recall most about their trip was the dance parties in the living room and Debra’s dogs.

When I met Debra as a teenager, I didn’t fully grasp the impact she had already made—or would continue to make—on film and on women in the industry. But I remember her warmth, her grounded presence, and the way she treated me with genuine kindness. If only I had known then what I know now about her! Our conversations would be very different.

I now understand just how much she accomplished. Debra started in the 1970s as a script supervisor and worked her way up in a male-dominated industry to become one of the most influential producers of her time. She co-wrote and produced Halloween alongside John Carpenter, creating one of the most iconic horror films in cinematic history. It was made for just $300,000 and went on to gross over $60 million—an unheard-of success for an independent film.

But Debra’s legacy goes far beyond box office numbers. She helped shape characters and stories that resonated deeply, especially the creation of Laurie Strode—the original “final girl” in horror—played by Jamie Lee Curtis. She had a sharp understanding of what made characters real and memorable, and she championed women both in front of and behind the camera long before it was widely recognized or expected. In 2003, she received the Women in Film Crystal Award, and her advocacy for inclusion in film continues to inspire. One of her most memorable quotes has stayed with me: “I hope some day there won’t be a need for Women in Film. That it will be People in Film.”

Her influence extended well beyond the screen. She mentored future powerhouses like James Cameron and Gale Anne Hurd, and she gave back by supporting initiatives for young producers, including a fellowship in her name that helps graduate students carry her spirit forward in the industry.

Among her many projects, one of my personal favorites will always be Adventures in Babysitting—a perfectly chaotic and heartfelt 1980s classic that captured the fun and absurdity of growing up. It was one of those movies I watched on repeat as a kid, long before I knew anything about who made it or what it meant to produce something so lasting.

Over the last nine years, I’ve spent a lot of time on movie sets myself—working behind the scenes, sometimes on camera, navigating the rhythms of production, and learning the quiet power of what it takes to bring a story to life. Sometimes I think about how different it might have felt to walk onto those sets knowing I had someone like Debra Hill in my corner. If she were still with us today, who knows how that relationship might have grown, or how it might have shaped my own path in the film world. It's a thought that fills me with both wonder and sadness—but mostly deep gratitude.

When Jamie Lee Curtis honors Debra, it’s not just about nostalgia—it’s about remembering a true force who helped change the trajectory of modern film. For me, that recognition sparked a wave of gratitude—not just for Debra’s cultural and film industry contributions, but for the personal moments that connect my family to her legacy.

That limo ride, the movie set visit, the shared memories among friends who never lost touch—all of it reminds me that the most powerful people are often the ones who lead with both brilliance and generosity. Debra Hill was exactly that kind of person.

And I’m so grateful I got to experience even a small part of her legacy.

Be well.