What My Uncle Taught Me About Storytelling, Aging, And Being Seen

Everyone deserves to feel seen—especially our loved ones.

We often focus on breaking into the industry, but rarely talk about what it’s like to sustain a long-lasting presence. While mergers have left industry professionals without employment, artificial intelligence has shifted the direction of the industry entirely. Ageism has spread through mediums of social media, film, and television. Middle-aged women and older are seldom depicted in leading roles. And when they are, their appearance is fabricated as a result of Eurocentric beauty standards.

I often ask myself: why is “aging” in Hollywood associated with a loss of voice and viewership? Furthermore, how can one uplift marginalized communities who are primarily affected?

In the past few years, I have come to realize there is a distinct separation between my generation and others. While many of us are creatives, thinkers, and activists, technology has created a virtual reality that obscures genuine connection.

Fortunately, my perception of connection did not come from a screen—it came from my family. Growing up in a small town in Rhode Island, I found solace in the stories my dad would tell me. He spoke often of my grandmother’s life in New York City as an educator. Through our conversations, I began documenting her childhood in Spanish Town, Jamaica and The Bronx, New York.

My dad also spoke highly of my grandfather, Dr. Irving Rust. His legacy as a reproductive rights activist has impacted my love of social justice within cinema. Whenever my dad needed guidance, my grandfather would simply repeat: “Tony, remember you should always be able to ‘walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch.’” My dad continues to apply this motto to any difficulty he faces in life. And so do I.

It is through my dad that I met my inspiration: my great uncle, René Lavergneau. My uncle René has many marvelous talents—one of which includes acting. His family was born in Colón, Panama, but he grew up in New York City. As the first cousin of my grandfather, Dr. Irving Rust, I learned much about my late family through him. I became obsessed with his Black dandyism, self-assurance, and love of Harlem. From the time I had reconnected with René, he had lived an incredibly fulfilling life—and it was my dream to capture it.

I looked at him and saw an artist who—after many years off-screen—belonged more than ever in front of the camera. My short film, René (2025), originated from my father’s loving bond with René. It is heavily based on René’s life. Although he spent time as an educator in the New Jersey public school system, he was also a model, actor, and visionary. He did cover shoots for catalogs, traveling all over the world. One of René’s most remarkable photographs features him alongside Lena Horne, during the production of The Wiz (1978).

I knew if there was a chance to work with him; to show his life through the medium of film and photography—I was going to take it.

My two-minute short is inspired by silent French cinema—specifically Josephine Baker’s influence. The logline is as follows: A retired senior reflects on his life through past memories. He asks for forgiveness from what appears to be a loved one—but is it? Therefore, the juxtaposition between authenticity and fiction is the core of this project.

First and foremost, René (2025) challenges the industry’s withdrawal of older talent. As a young Black filmmaker, I have found my calling through the perspectives of loved ones like my uncle. The wisdom they have bestowed upon me has been revolutionary for my artistic process.

Artists like René have shared experiences that are knowledgeable resources for the upcoming generation of filmmakers. Within an industry that focuses on “the next best thing,” we must look to seasoned creatives for guidance. After all, film is a product of historical lineage. The nature of filmmaking is preservation—regardless of the project’s duration. Film has the ability to capture a moment in time, while the subject continues to progress in real life.

It is crucial to water the roots of storytelling planted by our communities. One does not need an extensive background in film to succeed—only passion, heart, and soul. By working alongside our loved ones, we honor their legacy. We can provide agency to those who’ve lost visibility.

—Savanna Mai / @savanna_rust7