Warren Isaac Schorr

Warren Isaac Schorr was too much of everything. He was too kind, too brilliant, too empathetic, too driven, and sometimes too wise. He was taken from this earth too soon. He died on June 22, 2023, in Los Angeles, from a heart attack.

Warren arrived in this world on September 20, 1995, “shooting out like a football” in Norwalk, Connecticut. From the second he came into their lives, his parents, Patricia and Edward Schorr, knew they had their hands full (in a good way, of course). As a toddler, he climbed stair banisters like his favorite superhero “Spider-Man,” and memorized and recited Star Wars books verbatim with ease.

As he grew up, Warren’s creativity and genius were manifested in his music, studies, and writing. Whether it was staying outside late to practice a trick on his skateboard or perfecting a riff on his guitar, Warren fervently devoted himself to his passions. When he was not rowing or training at the Saugatuck Rowing Club, Warren was committed to his studies. He graduated from Staples High School in 2014 with High Honors as a National AP Scholar & National Merit Finalist, and went on to attend Dartmouth College, where he graduated Cum Laude in 2018 as a James O. Freedman Scholar and member of the Sigma Alpha Epsilon fraternity. While at Dartmouth, Warren served as an editor for the Dartmouth Law Journal and received accolades for his work in music composition. And it was at Dartmouth that his love of writing and film began to flourish.

After college, Warren moved to Los Angeles and worked as a Production Assistant, intern at Iconic Talent Agency, Gallery Educator at the Japanese American National Museum, and freelance screenwriter. He had recently been accepted to The University of Southern California Peter Stark Producing Program, where he was set to pursue a Master of Fine Arts degree in August.

Born Japanese and Jewish, and raised in both Hawaii and Connecticut, Warren spent his life navigating multiple communities. As a writer, he explored the meaning of histories that people inherit and how this shapes their understanding of themselves. As an aspiring filmmaker, his goal was to bring to life stories that authentically examined identity and intergenerational themes.

Warren’s talents and intellect were immense, but somehow his heart was even bigger. He was constantly thinking of others and was generous to a fault, often putting others’ needs before his own. To his sister Julia, he was the best, most loving older brother who was always there, at any time of night, to help her study or edit an essay or just listen. To the rest of his family, he was endlessly, effortlessly thoughtful. Gestures like massaging his Grandma’s hands or creating a website for his Mom’s artwork were second nature to Warren. He never spoke ill of anyone or anything, and instead approached others with empathy and care. We can all take a page from Warren’s book. Be kind, spread love, and splurge on that omakase (he would have wanted that).

No words can encapsulate all that Warren was. If they existed, he would have been the only one gifted enough to have the right ones.

He is simply too much.