Our July screening of The Little Ring with the wonderful community at Dawn Mountain Tibetan Buddhist Temple was one of those evenings that reminded me why I love watching movies in community.
The evening carried a particularly meaningful connection. The Little Ring, directed by Chakme Rinpoche, the recognized ninth-generation reincarnate lama of his lineage, received a Gold Remi Award for Best Foreign Feature at the 59th WorldFest-Houston International Film Festival, where it celebrated its North American Premiere. To share this remarkable film with the Dawn Mountain community in a Tibetan Buddhist setting felt like a beautiful full-circle moment.
It was a joy to bring together members of the Dawn Mountain community and friends of WorldFest-Houston. Partnerships like these remind us that art has a remarkable way of introducing people who might never have crossed paths otherwise.
First, we had ice cream, which in Houston during the summer months was a wonderful way to gather. I brought some WorldFest merchandise, and everyone dove in. Kiddos piled on the sprinkles, and folks got creative by pouring chocolate shell over strawberry popsicles. Yum!
We held the screening in a small chapel at St. Philip Presbyterian Church, on the campus where Dawn Mountain currently meets. Every venue has its own personality, and this one came with a few technical surprises.
A few minutes into the film, I realized audience members were bobbing their heads left and right to read the subtitles while the projector struggled to fill the room with sound. With my festival director’s heart racing, I made the slightly embarrassing decision to pause the screening and troubleshoot.
As I frantically searched through the IINA player settings, my husband Sean and WorldFest Operations Manager Laurence Howard jumped into tech mode to coax a little more volume out of the projector. Meanwhile, I attempted an impromptu stand-up routine, which mostly consisted of forgetting every joke I’d ever known.
Thankfully, the audience came to my rescue.
“Why do cows wear bells?” someone called out.
“Because their horns don’t work.”
Still buying time, I launched into my favorite joke from my years working as a country club pool waitress.
“How many tickles does it take to make an octopus laugh?”
I had completely forgotten the punchline until our Advisory Board member, LaMonde Howard, happily shouted, “TEN TICKLES!” before anyone realized I’d drawn a blank.
In the end, the solution was surprisingly simple. We moved the subtitles to the top of the screen, something I worried might feel awkward, but it made an enormous difference. No more bobbing heads. We squeezed out a little more volume, and even though my festival director’s perfectionist heart broke just a tiny bit, I quickly found myself completely immersed in a beautifully cinematic film.
Storytelling has always been sacred.
Long before cinemas existed, people gathered to share stories for entertainment, for history, for meaning, for hope, and to better understand one another. Sitting together in that chapel reminded me that stories can still be a kind of shared ritual, inviting us to slow down, listen deeply, and reflect on what it means to be human.
Watching a film together remains one of the few experiences we regularly share with strangers. We laugh together, hold our breath together, and are moved together. For a little while, we become a community.
In a world that can often feel rushed, isolated, or divided, gathering to experience a story together becomes both a sacred and civic act. Perhaps even a little revolutionary.
At WorldFest-Houston, this belief has guided us for six decades. Since beginning as a film appreciation society in 1961, we’ve celebrated independent films from around the world, not only for the extraordinary stories they tell, but for the conversations, cultural exchange, and human connections those stories inspire. We celebrate independent filmmakers, and we celebrate the communities reflected in their films.
One of the greatest joys of the evening, besides the ice cream, came after the credits rolled. People lingered to talk, new friendships were formed, and different perspectives were shared with genuine curiosity. Those moments reminded me that a discussion after a film is often just as meaningful as the film itself.
My heartfelt thanks to our Program Director, Kathleen Haney, for selecting this beautiful film; to Emily Anchia for advocating to bring it to the Dawn Mountain community; to Lamas Harvey Aronson, Anne Klein, and Nathaniel Rich; and to everyone at Dawn Mountain for their extraordinary hospitality and partnership. We’re also grateful to director Chakme Rinpoche for sharing this remarkable work with audiences around the world. Thank you to everyone who joined us and helped create such a warm, thoughtful evening.
As WorldFest prepares to celebrate our 60th Anniversary Festival in 2027, I hope this won’t be the last evening like this. In fact, I hope it’s just the beginning.
One of my dreams is to bring WorldFest’s award-winning independent films into neighborhoods, libraries, schools, places of worship, cultural centers, museums, and community gathering spaces all across Houston. WorldFest has always been more than an annual festival. As we celebrate our 60th anniversary, we have an opportunity to become a year-round catalyst for conversation, connection, and cultural exchange through film.
If you’re part of a community organization and would like to host a WorldFest screening, I’d love to hear from you. Let’s create more opportunities for Houstonians to gather, discover remarkable films, and experience the simple magic of watching a story unfold together.
Because every great film deserves more than an audience. It deserves a community.
— Katy Lea Cannon
Executive Director
WorldFest-Houston International Film Festival
