When Music City Became Movie City

St. Louis, MO – July 31, 2026 – Sometimes the best lessons arrive when you're not looking for them.

This past weekend, our family took a short trip to Nashville.

The primary reason for the visit was simple enough. My son is a huge Liverpool FC fan. So, when Liverpool scheduled a preseason friendly against Sunderland at Geodis Park, my wife surprised him with tickets months in advance.

It became the perfect excuse for a family getaway, just like our trip to Kansas City for the World Cup. Yes, our vacations this summer have revolved around the pitch.

Of course, as is often the case, life had other plans.

Earlier this summer my wife broke her foot and ankle. Traveling suddenly required a lot more planning than usual.

Every stop on our itinerary meant thinking about accessible parking, elevators, seating, walking distances, and making sure the experience worked for all of us.

Leading up to our trip, I found myself spending as much time planning logistics as I did looking forward to the trip itself. Thankfully, the people we encountered made all the difference.

The guest services team at Nashville SC, especially Tania Terrones Carreno, went out of their way to make the match enjoyable. The staffs at the Grand Ole Opry and Regal Cinemas were equally accommodating. Their kindness turned what could have been a stressful weekend into a wonderful family experience.

That said, by the time we arrived home, I felt like I needed a vacation from my vacation. Traveling can be stressful. Our trip had become our own little odyssey. Not the 70mm IMAX Christopher Nolan version and nowhere near as epic as Homer's version — but an odyssey, nonetheless.

Four Stops, One Business

Looking back, I realized something else. Our entire trip revolved around individually distinct entertainment experiences we enjoyed together each day.

Friday night we visited the Grand Ole Opry.

Saturday evening, we watched Liverpool take on Sunderland before more than 25,000 fans.

Sunday morning, we found ourselves among one of only a handful of audiences in America watching The Odyssey in 70mm IMAX.

In between, we squeezed in a visit to an indoor golf simulator at Five Iron Golf and a municipal driving range to feed my son's growing obsession with the game.

On the surface, those experiences couldn't have been more different.

Live music. Professional sports. A Movie. Golf. Yet the more I thought about them, the more I realized they were all in the entertainment business and each offered a lesson.

The Story Behind the Scoreboard

At the soccer match, my son spent much of the evening explaining the stories behind Liverpool's players, the club's traditions, and its rivalry with Sunderland — a team I felt I knew thanks to the Netflix series Sunderland Till I Die my wife and I watched.

While Sunderland certainly had their supporters, it felt like a majority of the crowd was cheering for Liverpool despite being hundreds of miles from England. They weren't simply watching a match. They were participating in a story much larger than ninety minutes on the pitch.

A Century-Long Encore

The Grand Ole Opry offered the same lesson in a different form. The Opry isn't simply preserving country music. It's continually creating new reasons for people to visit Nashville — for more than a century and counting.

The venue, America's longest running live radio show, the merchandise, the hotels, the restaurants, and the surrounding entertainment district all reinforce one another. It's more than a stage. It's an economic ecosystem built around shared experiences.

It also reminded me how much country music is really storytelling in a different form, and how much I enjoy it despite not thinking of myself as a country music fan. What’s not to like about songs that tell a story and you can sing along with? 

As we drove around the city navigating a maze of highways, I couldn't help but marvel at how much Nashville has changed during my lifetime.

Music City has become one of America's great destinations, and that growth didn't happen by accident. It was built by creators. It is a living example of the “creator economy” at work — a city built by songwriters, performers, entrepreneurs, and visionaries who understood that great stories can become powerful economic engines.

The Line Around the Building

Then there was Christopher Nolan's version of The Odyssey.

We arrived at the theater thirty minutes early on a Sunday morning, assuming we'd have plenty of time to find our seats and buy popcorn before the show. Instead, I found myself standing in one of the longest concession lines I've seen in years.

When I asked the cashier if Sunday mornings were always this busy, she smiled and said, “No. It's all because of The Odyssey.” That answer stuck with me. It was Sunday morning in the Bible Belt. The lobby was buzzing. Complete strangers were talking excitedly about the film. We felt fortunate just to have tickets for one of the few 70mm IMAX presentations in the country.

As the lights dimmed, I could hear the projector during the quiet moments of the film. It reminded me that we weren't simply watching a movie. We were experiencing cinema the way Christopher Nolan intended it to be experienced. How cool is that?!

That's when everything clicked.

Concerts fill music halls. Sports fill stadiums. Movies fill theaters. At their best, all three do something much more important. They bring strangers together to experience the same story at the same time.

The Better Question

If you've read my writing for long, you know I've encouraged storytellers to think beyond simply creating content. This trip reminded me that the same principle applies to filmmaking.

The question isn't simply, “How do I make a great movie?”

The better question is, “Why should someone leave home to experience this with other people?”

For decades, Hollywood relied on theaters to create that sense of occasion. Independent filmmakers no longer have that luxury. Today, we must think about the audience before we ever think about opening weekend or greenlighting the project to start.

Before the first frame is shot, we should already be asking ourselves how the film becomes an event.  How are we going to “eventize” this film?  You don’t need to be Christopher Nolan or go the IMAX route to make seeing your film an event. 

And it doesn't necessarily require thousands of theaters either.

It might mean partnering with community organizations for special screenings. It might mean four-walling a theater ourselves. It might mean building an audience months — or years — before the cameras begin rolling. It might mean combining theatrical screenings with educational outreach, live conversations, or community celebrations.

Whatever the strategy, it starts with recognizing that audiences aren't simply buying tickets. They're investing in an entertainment experience. What are you doing to ensure it is entertaining?   

That idea sits at the heart of what independent filmmakers call the NonDē mindset — a non-dependent approach to distribution that encourages filmmakers to build direct relationships with audiences instead of depending on someone else to reach them. The creator economy has already demonstrated the power of this approach. The most successful creators don't simply produce content. They cultivate communities.

Nashville is a living embodiment of that philosophy.  And I’m not just talking about southern hospitality. It is more than that. Community is built on something stronger. Great brands that provide entertainment go beyond simply thinking of their customers as an audience. 

There is a distinction between seeing a customer as an audience member and a fan that is born of an insight I gained while working in Major League Baseball.  It something all great storytellers and elite level hospitality professionals get intuitively – a welcoming feeling that says you belong.   

Ratify Belonging

As we continue shaping the vision for STORYSMART STUDIOS, I find myself connecting dots from every chapter of my career. I spent nearly two decades in professional sports watching organizations build lifelong relationships with fans.

Above my desk at the Cardinals hung two words that served as a daily reminder of my mission with the team:

Ratify Belonging.

That was my way of reminding myself that our job wasn't simply to sell baseball tickets. It was to help people feel like they belonged to something bigger than themselves. They were part of the Cardinals story.

My job as the lead communications person was to reinforce that message and nurture that in all the work we were doing. Looking back, I realize the same principle applies to every form of entertainment. People don't simply want content.

They want connection. They want shared experiences. They want stories that give them a reason to gather and something to talk about on the drive home.

Maybe that's the greatest lesson our family's Nashville odyssey had to teach me. The future of independent filmmaking won't belong to those who tell the best stories. Rather, it will belong to those who create the most meaningful experiences around those stories, inviting audiences not simply to watch, but to belong.

About Ron Watermon

Ron Watermon is a creator, builder, media entrepreneur, filmmaker, and the founder of STORYSMART. He writes about professional storytelling, media entrepreneurship, filmmaking, and the business of turning stories into valuable assets.

Ron is the author of STORYSMART Storytelling for ALL and is currently building STORYSMART STUDIOS, an independent media company dedicated to developing, producing, and owning profitable, enduring original media properties.

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