A New Creative Journey Begins
When I was six years old, my mother dropped my older brother and me off for a Saturday matinee at the movies. The Wizzard of Ozz.was playing. I had to give my brother my quarter to sit next to him. As excited and a bit fearful that I was, once the technicolor kicked in, I knew I could live in this world. But schooling, jobs and eventually restaurant ownership happened instead. And for forty years, I’ve worked hard as an entrepreneur surviving and flourishing in a tough business – mainly because I know to the depth of my soul, my job is to serve others. But at age 70 I still had an earning but knew no one was coming to get me in the movies. I had to do it myself. So I wrote a script about a time and place I knew well, the deep South early 60s. I wanted the audiences to know that it was really like, not a Hollywood black-white story, but multiple stories about relationships with nuances that happened back then, relationships that may not easily happen today between black and white, rich and poor. These sort of relationships can typically only occur in small towns where we all live with each other over our entire lives.
Bringing Hospitality to the Set
One thing I quickly realized is that filmmaking, like hospitality, is a team effort. A restaurant only runs smoothly when every part of it works in sync, the back of house (kitchen) and front of house (the servers). A film set is no different. From camera operators to lighting techs, from actors to editors, it takes a small army to bring a vision to life. Forty years in the restaurant business taught me how to manage both, how to stay hands-on yet give support to the team. How to hold people accountable and deal with conflict. All this happens daily in restaurants and it also happens when on the set. And above all this, an atmosphere of love and support must prevail. Generosity and appreciation builds a creative environment where people feel safe to take risks and do their best work.
A Restaurateur’s Eye for Atmosphere
Years of designing restaurant spaces gave me a deep appreciation for atmosphere—and that’s served me well in filmmaking. Creating a successful dining room means getting out of yourself and imagining what the audience (guests) must feel. Is the lighting too harsh, the music too loud, are they being asked to sit too closely to one another? And the same is true for film: Does the lighting give the tone the scene needs to emote a feeling, are we rushing the story and best to pace slower for the audience, does the music support or drive the plot. These decisions are not dissimilar. They require getting out of yourself, imagining your audience and settling for nothing short of excellence.
Why It Matters
Making a film gave me the chance to offer something timeless. A story with soul. A story that honors tradition, while still speaking to the present moment. That’s the kind of thing I’ve always strived for in my restaurants, and now I strive for it in film.
At this point in my life, I’m not interested in doing things just to keep busy. I want the work to matter. I want it to reflect what I’ve learned—and what I still believe in. And what I’ve learned is this: People are hungry for real stories. Just like home cooking, that soothes the soul.