Last night at AFM — presenting my SUMMER RULES before 250 film indistry people — reminded me why filmmaking is never a solo sport.

Elizabeth and I were rolling into our SUMMER RULES presentation, with Elizabeth sharing how Largo AI, host of the AFM event, projects our tender romantic adventure that takes place the summer of 2002 about a couple who meet in group therapy for dealing with losing a spouse on 9/121 looks to gross $723 million with 83% confidence — a stat so wild and wonderful the audience actually gasped.

And just as I repeated the amazing $723 blockbuster data discovery, right on that gasp — BAM — the hall doors blew open at the back of the gathering and a cluster of young peeps tumbled in giggling like they’d wandered into the wrong universe.

It threw me off just enough that my next line evaporated mid-air. I’d joked to Elizabeth the night before that the Largo number was all we needed to say… and maybe I jinxed myself by planting that seed, because that’s exactly where everything went sideways.

But this is where the magic of partnership kicked in.

Before the moment could tip awkward, I turned to Elizabeth with a shrug and said, “Babe, I got nothing.” Without skipping a beat Elizabeth stepped up with total grace, caught the flow of the pitch, “Summer Rules is a tender romantic adventure set in the summer of 2002…” and handed it back to me next line like we’d rehearsed the interruption. Finding my footing again I went back on script with how pleased I was that Largo confirmed what the great Ed Asner multiple Golden Globe and Emmy winner once told that Summer Rule was one of best screenplays he’d ever read.

One smooth save leading to a smooth recovery — the kind that only happens when you’ve done life and art together long enough to read each other’s energy in real time.

We finished strong. Stronger than if the moment had gone flawlessly.
Because the room didn’t just see two filmmakers pitching a movie.
They saw a team.

At the after-party, people kept coming up to say it: the stumble and $723 million discovery wasn’t what stood out — the recovery did. The way Elizabeth caught the beat. The way we kept going. The way we supported each other. That, they said, told them everything they needed to know about what kind of filmmakers we are.

So today, I’m grateful.
Grateful for AFM.
Grateful for a room full of good energy.
Grateful that even a rogue door explosion couldn’t shake us.
And especially grateful for Elizabeth — my producing partner, my cosmic co-captain, and the steady hand that turns chaos into story, my wife

Onward.

— Ken Sheetz