I can't bury my Grandmother until I make this film-- and it's been five years.
A personal essay on grief, fear, and reimagining a stalled film not as a business gamble—but as an act of healing, truth, and closure.
From an 8° frost-bitten morning.
Tuesday, December 9th
Dear Reader,
Grief sucks.
It buries us.
(Pun intended).
It largely leaves us battered and in the absence of light.
I’m there, right now.
And caught off guard by how it happened.
My grandmother passed five years ago.
And I’m still not through the storm, yet.
Don’t get me wrong, my daily efforts aren’t engulfed in mourning, but every six months or so, an action will occur that nudges the reality of grief back into place.
Recementing the reminder of her absence and warmth.
So last night, on a work call with my regular collaborator, Chris Heck, I realized that I can’t “bury” my grandmother until I make the one film I’ve been struggling to make—a film that honours her.
I’ve had the script for four years.
I shot the short film proof-of-concept two years ago.
I’ve secured a casting director and seed investors.
But, I’ve hit roadblock upon roadblock.
The original goal of a $1 million dark comedy grounded in the truth of grief using a packaged vehicle might not be the best way to go.
This way is clunky.
Slow.
A dirge, even.
Maybe that original goal is dead, much like my Grandmother, and no matter my efforts, it can not be revived.
But, since I am a father, I know the secret to death: it’s not immortality, but new mortality— a.k.a. new life.
My film, BURYING DORIS, is the story of an estranged New England farm family who is forced home to settle the estate of their beloved grandmother as well as a few lifelong grudges.
This isn’t a story that needs a million dollars.
This is a story that needs energy,
Creation.
Life.
So when Chris and I discussed what the true goals of making this film were— Burying Doris.
I first said, “I was too scared to tell Chris what my real goal was.”
But then he encouraged me,1 and I said it meekly at first.
Then full-throated.
“I can’t grieve my grandmother until I make this film… and it’s been five years.”
It hung for a few moments.
Then Chris broke the silence, “Well, that is a different goal than a packaged project.”
We talked some more, but by the end of the conversation, the solution became clear.
Maybe this film is a pure exercise in grief that can still align with my business principles and goals.
Maybe this is a micro-budget project.
One that can be done in under a year.
One that can be accomplished with the resources we already have.
One that can still make ROI, albeit on a lower scale, but still ROI nonetheless.
Maybe this is the way.
I’m not so sure yet, but it feels right.
It feels better.
And it feels like each step in this direction is another shovel of dirt that will bring closure.
Today, I’m encouraging you to have tough conversations about your true goals.
Be honest.
It’s hard, but you can do it.
Because when you do that, it might liberate you.
And at worst, you’ll learn what’s not working.
So I’ll try to share what I learn along the way.
And if you ever need to commiserate with someone, shoot me an email.
I’m happy to help any of you, fight to keep the faith!
We can do it!
Together, with Faith.
M.P. Rekola
P.S. As an independent creator, I earn my living through affiliate links, views, sales of my filmmaking dictionary on Amazon, producing industrials via Goodworks (You can hire us!), consulting on individual projects, and a “micro” drive-in movie theatre I’m building.
Reach out if you have an opportunity!
Reminder, advice and networking are always free.
As a good collaborator should. Look for the collaborators who encourage you to sit in the rawness of a moment.