I’ve sat with Mother’s Smile for almost two years now. At this point, it’s become more or less a brand of its own. There’s Mother’s Smile art, Mother’s Smile apparel, Mother’s Smile music. A lot of people have heard or seen Mother’s Smile in various forms except its original form. Which is interesting, but also something I probably wouldn’t want to repeat. I do intend to make each film of mine going forward into a sort of self-contained “brand” in order to dip my feet into different areas of art, but also as (and probably the more practical reason) a personally curated marketing strategy.

The reason I’ve gatekept Mother’s Smile, the movie, for so long is more because of the artist’s dilemma than anything else. I’m often asked, “Oh, so when is Mother’s Smile coming out?” and my typical response would be “soon,” or some vague deadline I’d mention off the top of my head. But I’ve been saying “soon” since February of 2024. The thing is, I personally believe that everything else under the Mother’s Smile umbrella is better than the film. Now, it’s not because the film is necessarily bad or technically deficient, but because I know I can do much better. I think it’s a great film… Sure, I’d change a number of things: narrative choices, pacing, pre-production decisions, etc., but that’s the point of what I’m saying. It’s hard to put something out into the world as a “showcase” of your craft when you know it isn’t the best of you.

There’s a question that was posed to me during pre-production: “Who is this film for?” It was asked by Michael Ansah (check out his stuff on rfxstudiosgh.com). He asked that question to get me thinking about distribution. He emphasised, having learned from his own experience, that yeah, making the film is great and all, but distribution is just as important, so start thinking about that stuff now. It seems obvious, but as an artist, you get so caught up in the craft and in self-expression that you tend to sideline such matters. Interestingly, in asking yourself “Who is this film for?” you also begin to install signposts, directing where the film should go narratively. But if I had actually, properly asked myself that question, instead of going “Oh, it’s a personal film,” I probably wouldn’t have sat on the film for so long after its first few screenings. I can only assume it’s the same for any piece of art.

No art is for everybody. That’s what makes it art. I’ve shown this film to nearly 200 people at a go, to 40 people, to 10 people, to 3 people, but none of these compared to when I showed it to just one person. She asked to see the film, so I carried my laptop to her hostel room to show it to her. She turned off the lights and sat behind her desk in front of the laptop while I sat on the bed, frowning and wincing as the film played. I see only the flaws in my work after watching it more times than I can count. And then it happened. But I wasn’t sure. It was only after the film ended and she turned on the lights that I confirmed it. She said “wow,” sniffed, and then headed over to the sink to wash her eyes out. It moved her. It connected with her. She had been through a similar situation and expressed how much the film captured that feeling, specifically saying, “I loved the silence. Because that’s how it feels.” The “silence” in the film has been criticised a number of times, but she understood the decision. She felt what I felt as an artist.

A film, or any art for that matter, is not for everyone. It could be a blockbuster loved by millions upon millions of people. It could be a chart-topping piece of music with billions of streams. But it might just be for that one person in a hostel room, going through a struggle no one else knows about, who finds a piece of themselves in it.

And maybe… just maybe… that’s the only audience that matters.

Who is this film for?

Thanks for that, Michael.