Have you ever had a tough decision to make and your heart was telling you one thing but your head was telling you another?

I had one of those moments last week and I drug my mother into it.

My film The Casserole Brigade was screening in its last festival of a two-year run—the Myrtle Beach International Film Festival—and it was in person! Normally, that’s not that big of a deal but after two years of virtual film festivals (which, let’s be honest, don’t have half the appeal) to be at a real event with real people in real life was something any filmmaker would crave.

This wasn’t the first in-person festival it has screened at (only the second, though). Back in March, a first-year, one-day festival in Shelby screened it in a manner where we could all socially distance.

But the Myrtle Beach Film Festival has over a decade of experience, it lasted five days, and it was held at the Grand 14 Cinema—a real theater!

Back in March, my mom and brother were going to join me, but decided not to and we regretted it ever since. After losing my brother in October, my mom really felt pulled to go with me this time— probably feeling like it would somehow vindicate her of any guilt she was carrying from not going last time.

Furthermore, this film was about death in the South and how we show our love through casseroles and it was based on my brother’s and my experience when my dad died. It was about us and our lives.

Plus, this would be the last time it would screen at any festival.

She wanted to go and so did I.

But because of work and the holidays, I could only go for Wednesday, the day my film was playing. I’d miss the opening night party and the filmmakers panel the next night in which I could have participated. So all the fun stuff you get to do as a filmmaker was off limits to us.

The trip was three and a half hours each way. Was it worth going down for just one night?

Then I remembered my soccer games are on Wednesday nights and I hate missing those games. I considered driving down, watching our film, and driving straight back to my game.

Our film played at the 4:00pm slot and my game was at 9:00pm. As long as we left at 5:00 or 5:30 we could make it! That still seemed ridiculous.

I told my mom all the options and she was torn, too, but willing to go along with me.

So I spoke to my wife and she asked me a simple question:

“Do you think you’ll get what you want out of it if you just go for one night?”

I thought for a moment.

“Well, that’s the thing. I want so little out of it that it would undoubtedly be a ‘yes.’ I just want to see it on a real big screen the way it was intended to be seen and with an audience.”

I thought about the future stories. I thought about our past regrets.

Then I booked an Airbnb for my mom and me.

We drove down on a rainy morning, talking about life, crying here and there, and discussing what the next year might bring us.

When we arrived at the festival, the ladies at registration knew us by name already and handed us our All-Access Passes. It felt right to be there.

The theater was full of around 100 people to watch about 12 short films in a 90-minute block. Just before the films started the staff said the filmmakers in attendance (like me!) would come down to the front to do an impromptu Q&A session after the films were over.

Since I was missing the Filmmaker Panel the next day, this meant a lot to me—mostly because, like my mom, I like to talk in front of a crowd.

The audience reception was amazing. They were laughing at all the right parts and even parts that I didn’t expect! Two of the actors in the film had made it down, too, and they beamed with pride seeing their performances being applauded.

When the films were over and it was time for the Q&A, I thought again about the future stories we’d tell about this night. So I brought my mom to the front with me.

For 10 minutes we entertained the crowd, talking about the South and sweet potato casserole, discussing directing choices I had made in the film, and just being a part of the collaborative human connection that art creates.

After months of grieving and sadness, we had a real moment of joy. Not forced, but authentic happiness.

We had a night. We made a moment.

We got every bit of what we expected out of the trip… and a whole heck of a lot more.

Rain Bennett is a two-time Emmy-nominated filmmaker, writer, and competitive storyteller with over a decade of experience producing documentary films that focus on health and wellness. His mission is simple: to make the world happier and healthier by sharing stories of change.

You can read the rest of “Right as Rain” here, and check back every Wednesday on Chapelboro for a new column! 

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