If you wanted to be sentimental, you could say The Beaufort International Film Festival and Lowcountry Weekly grew up together.
Though this paper is five years older, BIFF has always been the star – our cooler, flashier little brother – and we’ve always been so proud of our familial relationship. Media partners from way back – before everybody was so online, all the time – BIFF counted on us to get the word out, and we counted on BIFF to bring the razzle-dazzle, a sparkling sprinkling of magical fairy dust in the mundane days of February.
From the beginning, BIFF was a family affair for the Evans clan. Our family-owned paper would start publishing BIFF preview articles in October, and by the time January rolled around, we were in full Film Fest mode – working hard to create our annual BIFF issue, attending Wine Dinners and various other “pre-game” parties, looking forward to manning our media table at USCB, and preparing our young daughter to hang out with babysitters all week. When she was old enough, Amelia attended a few parties with us and caught the BIFF bug herself.
For my dear, recently departed husband Jeff, BIFF was always a next level event. For the weeks leading up to it, and during the festival itself, he kicked into high gear and ran on pure adrenaline. Along with his responsibilities as a major media sponsor, every year he designed and produced the official Film Guide (“the BIFF Bible” some call it) and directed and hosted the Screenwriters Workshop. Both endeavors were incredibly time-consuming – I know, because I helped – but he loved doing both and never seemed stressed. Did he procrastinate ’til the very last minute on every bit of it, causing me to stress? Absolutely. But that was Jeff. And looking back, I think it was half the fun – the way he always managed to pull things off in the end.
Did I mention that, for many years, he also presented the award for Best Comedy? And was practically legendary for his dry humor
Margaret & Jeff Evans at BIFF 2024
during said presentations? And yes, he threw those together at the last minute, too. What can I say? The man had a gift.
I’ve been almost more trepidatious about heading into BIFF without Jeff than I was about heading into the holiday season. But I survived that – and even managed to find plenty of joy – so I’m determined to embrace BIFF’s 20th Anniversary with grit and gusto. It won’t be the same, but I know it’ll be great. It’s always great.
To read more about BIFF’s past and present, check out our special section starting on page 8. The Seldons have taken a look back at the early days, Luke Frazier takes a deep dive into this year’s fest, and Debbi Covington has whipped up a feast of a movie menu – seasoned with memories.
Twenty years is a long time, y’all. Two decades. A score. And I’ve written so many rapturous columns about BIFF, I hardly know what else I can say. I got a kick reading through some of them last week, looking for inspiration – something that might help me convey just how much this annual event has meant to me.
Turns out a column I wrote ten years ago, on the occasion of BIFF’s 10th birthday, was just the thing. Instead of trying to reinvent that wheel, I’m going to reprint a bit of it. As editor and publisher, this is my prerogative. Also, it’s so old, I can’t imagine anybody’ll remember it. I sure didn’t.
In 2016, I wrote:
The film festival is probably my favorite thing about winter in Beaufort – not counting Christmas – and hands-down my favorite thing about February. Every year it rises from the cold, dead earth like some exotic flower, blasting away my winter doldrums, reminding me that I, too, am a living thing . . . that springtime’s on its way.
If you’ve never been to BIFF, it’s possible you have a distorted impression of the event. I did, back in the early days, before we at Lowcountry Weekly became integrally involved as media sponsors. My idea of a “film festival,” back then, was kind of a caricature . . . and not a very generous one. I envisioned lots of pretentious intellectuals and fancy starlets preening around in dark glasses, making us locals feel like hicks and rubes. ‘I love movies,’ I thought. ‘But movie people? I don’t know…’
This was me being a hick and a rube.
As it turns out, the filmmakers who come to BIFF are some of the warmest, most wonderful folks I’ve ever met. From screenwriters to directors to editors to actors – from student filmmakers just getting started to professionals at the height of their careers – after repeated exposure, I’ve been forced to acknowledge that “movie people” are, for the most part, very nice.
(Yes, I’m sorry to say it’s true. These smart, interesting people – who are often better looking than the rest of us – are also very nice.)
But here’s what I love most about the BIFF filmmakers: They just can’t help doing what they do. It’s an uncontrollable urge! Most of them will never be rich or famous – though, certainly, some will be, and a few already are – but they make movies anyway. Because they have to. I love that!
I went on to explore that “uncontrollable urge” that drives indie filmmakers – you can check out the column here for the details – and I finished up like this:
Put simply, independent filmmaking is a labor of love. And every year, for a few splendid days in the bleak midwinter, these compulsive storytellers with their passionate obsession – their overwhelming need – show up here in Beaufort (from all over the world!) and lay the fruits of that labor at our feet. A love offering.
And what we give them in return is BIFF. Ron and Rebecca Tucker have created a unique (even boutique) festival that embraces filmmakers in a deeply personal way, welcoming them with the genuine hospitality – and profound quirkiness – for which the South is so famous. The Tuckers and their army of volunteers literally and figuratively roll out the red carpet for these folks, who – to reiterate – are typically not flashy swells, but hardworking, multi-tasking, moonlighting, nose-to-the-grindstone obsessive-compulsives who feel lucky to be here. (And who – let’s face it – probably need a freaking break.) These filmmakers invariably fall under Beaufort’s spell, and Beaufort is equally infatuated. The creative energy crackles, the joy is palpable, minds are blown and hearts are moved.
And many tears are shed before all’s said and done.
This was BIFF ten years ago, and this is BIFF now. And I, for one, cannot wait for Opening Night.
Happy 20th, BIFF. I love you.
The 20th Annual Beaufort International Film Festival is February 17 – 22 at USCB Center for the Arts. For tickets and more information, visit www.beaufortfilmfestival.com
