Filmmakers Making A Social Impact: Why & How Filmmaker John Franklin Rinehart of Austin Film Crew Is Helping To Change Our World

We all have the right to remember our history. While we might not always recognize it, having a history is something to be grateful for — something not everyone possesses.

As a part of our series about “Filmmakers Making A Social Impact” I had the pleasure of interviewing John Franklin Rinehart.

John Franklin Rinehart is a filmmaker, historian, and entrepreneur best known for creating large-scale heritage tourism projects like Texas Legacy in Lights. He is the founder of Austin Film Crew and Texas Legacy Consulting, blending cinematic storytelling with economic strategy to revitalize small-town history. Through immersive projection mapping, he brings forgotten stories to life, turning local landmarks into cultural destinations.

Thank you so much for doing this interview with us! Before we dive in, our readers would love to get to know you a bit. Can you share your “backstory” that brought you to this career?

I grew up on a small farm in Gonzales, Texas. Film was not really in the cards for me at the time, but hard work and being outdoors were. I felt at home among the cactus, post oaks, old tractors, and occasional coyote, but I had another love, music. My uncle John Harvey Nelson was the 4th chair trumpet player for the DFW Symphony, and from a very young age, I loved watching him play. Inevitably, I was given a trumpet as a present, and my life of walking a tightrope between art and Cowboy/Texas culture was born. I traveled the world playing the trumpet, but when I finally burned out, I found film. The spark had been there since childhood, but film was a pipedream. It was something so far beyond my realm that the idea of it becoming something I was recognized for or made a living from was beyond my comprehension and boggled the mind. Strangely enough, it was through this dichotomy of art and Cowboy/Texas culture that I found my calling, if you will. Between the horses and the edit bay was where I found home. There are many things these two worlds can learn from each other, not least that they need one another to survive.

It has been said that our mistakes can be our greatest teachers. Can you share a story about the funniest mistake you made when you were first starting? Can you tell us what lesson you learned from that?

Very early in my film career, before drones, there were helicopters, and aerial shots were highly specialized. I was contracted for this film in Northern California about a vineyard. I wanted to rent a helicopter to get some aerial shots over the vineyard first thing in the morning. When the vineyard owner, a very eccentric character, heard this, he demanded that we cancel the aerial crew because he had several of his own helicopters, including a Huey. I am not a small man, and he assured me that my 300 pounds would not be an issue for his retired behemoth and that we could get the shots ourselves. I agreed. A few weeks later it was time for the aerial shots. I informed the vineyard owner that the day had arrived. He nodded and asked what time in the morning we wanted to start filming. I told him that first light was at 6:25 am. His eyes grew a little wide, and he muttered that he would still be hung over that early in the morning. I laughed, he laughed, and I told him that I would see him tomorrow. The next morning, I was at the vineyard at 5:30 am.

I found the vineyard owner next to a small two-seater bubble helicopter, and to my surprise and shock, he was indeed hungover. I asked him where the Huey was, and he replied that he had it shipped to Chicago for maintenance. I had resigned myself to an uncomfortable flight and had squeezed my 6-foot-7-inch frame into the cockpit when he remarked that this would no longer work. I weighed too much, and now the helicopter was unbalanced. Not to worry, because he had a solution, and he soon trotted back from the hangar with two long yellow straps, a harness, and a long radio cable. After a bit of jerry-rigging that would make any redneck proud, he presented me with a makeshift harness seat where I could swing beneath the helicopter with an X-brace to stop me from twisting. After a lot of reassurances that we would be fine, I strapped myself in below the aircraft, and we ascended into the sky.

Soon we found ourselves skimming above the trees, climbing hills as the sun peaked over the horizon, filling the low-hanging fog resting on the fields below with a wash of golden rays. I was focused, scared to death, and enthralled. I hate heights, and here I was dangling below a small helicopter with my Canon 5D Mark II clutched in my hands and wind rushing through my wind-stung eyes. I radioed up that I wanted to get lower over the trees for a more dramatic shot. We circled the vineyard and came back even lower. The shot was magnificent and breathtaking. I was so happy until I noticed, in the distance, the sun glinting off a thin metal cable at the top of the hill just above the tree line. An electric pole and wire were waiting for us. I began screaming into my radio to pull up, and I think I must have been blowing out the mic because my pilot couldn’t understand what I was saying. I think he saw the power line at the last moment and pulled up. I don’t know how close that power line was to my legs, but I could have sworn I could count the strands of cable.

My lessons that day were numerous. First, not every shot is worth the risk. Second, if bad things start to stack up, it is okay to stop and say no. Third, you don’t get stories like that by being smart, but you also don’t get them by staying on the ground. Just like every life lesson, I can be grateful to have survived the lesson so long as I don’t repeat the mistake.

Who are some of the most interesting people you have interacted with? What was that like? Do you have any stories?

There are far too many interesting people in this world. But in the mountains of Sweden, near the border of Norway, lived a retired Dr., Dr. Björn Nilsson. We were working on a documentary project about the nearly forgotten group of people called the Forest Finns. One of the few remaining cabins of these seminomadic individuals lay deep in the remote mountains of Sweden. We were informed by a local heritage museum that they had arranged a guide to the cabin, and we were met by Dr. Nilsson the next morning. Dr. Nilsson was a wisp of a man in his early 70s, standing about 6 feet tall, with a shock of white hair and a slender build. He often walked with his arms locked behind his back, rocking back and forth on his heels, and would give us a smattering of facts about the historical village that was our rendezvous point before taking a break and pulling out a thermos of tea, goat’s milk, and moose sausage (in Sweden, they call moose elk).

We sat there listening to him recount stories of Forest Finn magic in his gentle Swedish whisper. After our meal, he suddenly stood up, smiled softly, and asked if we were ready to walk to the cabin. We agreed, and soon we were navigating the winding dirt roads of Värmland. About an hour later, we stopped at a mountain ridge, and he instructed us to follow him into the woods. My wife and I loaded our backpacks with gear and video equipment and began to follow him. He occasionally pointed out plants and explained their medicinal uses or showed us a log fence he and some friends built. The most astonishing moment came when we exited the forest to find a steep, grass- and moss-covered hill, with our cabin at the top. Heidi and I were already breathless from the hike, but Dr. Nilsson simply stood there, twirling a blade of grass. Then, with the effort of a fairy-tale elf, he glided up the steep hill, his hands behind his back, whistling a tune as he went. I had never seen anyone move this way before or after. It almost seemed like he bounced with each step, moving lightly over slick grass and damp, moss-covered rocks that challenged us at every step. I glanced at my wife, and she watched with the same awe I felt as he floated up the mountain. This was a remarkable feat for anyone, especially for a retired doctor in his 70s.

Which people in history inspire you the most? Why?

Two men come to mind immediately: Benjamin Franklin and Leonardo da Vinci. Both were men ahead of their time. Future thinkers. Idealists. People who saw beyond the norms yet chose to work within a society that was not nearly as advanced as they were, to help people move forward, even when it went against social norms. These men were eccentric in their own way, and I find myself constantly drawn to people who defy what society says is true, appropriate, or real.

To move humanity forward in the long term, the things we consider normal today are sometimes the very things that, in Leonardo da Vinci’s case, people called heresy. Doing an autopsy on a cadaver, for instance. The world is constantly pushed forward by ideas that make us think, make us quake a little, and sometimes make us feel uncomfortable.

I was thinking about this the other day. You know, when you travel from one country to another, and there are entirely different weather patterns, maybe you started off in America in winter and flew to Australia in summer? The hardest thing to deal with is acclimating. No one likes it. Your body doesn’t like it. Everything is changing around you. The environment has changed. Your clothes don’t work. There is a moment when your body is trying to acclimate, and sometimes the same is true for society.

It is never fun to change, to bend, to rethink something. But the people who push us farther are the ones who usually make us uncomfortable. Those are the people who inspire me most.

Let’s now shift to the main focus of our interview, how are you using your success to bring goodness to the world? Can you share with us the meaningful or exciting social impact causes you are working on right now?

We all have the right to remember our history. While we might not always recognize it, having a history is something to be grateful for — something not everyone possesses. Many people lose their history and genealogy, then spend their lives wondering about their origins and story. Last year, we had the chance to help a town tell its story in a unique way. We created Texas Legacy in Lights for Gonzales, Texas — the world’s first permanent projection-mapping installation using live-action narrative film to showcase history on a large scale. What was truly remarkable wasn’t just the technical achievement but the message we aimed to send. We believed communities crave their stories to be told with the same production quality, ambition, and permanence as major city theme parks and museums.

Small towns have big stories; they just need someone willing to tell them with the scale and care they deserve. When a story is told repeatedly — such as six nights a week for ten to fifteen years — it becomes a shared experience for generations, helping them understand their identity and heritage. Gonzales, named after Rafael Gonzales, has a rich history, including the Come and Take It story, the DeWitt colonies, and Texas’s independence. Yet, many in our community had forgotten who some of these people were, including Rafael Gonzales. Parts of our community felt underrepresented, even though their history was intertwined with ours and the Texas Revolution.

We had the chance to change that — to help people see themselves in their history and let others recognize those who have always been part of the community. Providing them a platform to reclaim their history and identity is both beautiful and powerful. This isn’t about changing history; it’s about changing how we tell these important stories. Now, we’re working on larger projects that connect multiple cities through their shared historical DNA via film — leveraging stories already rooted in the past. This gives us an exciting opportunity to influence many cities and states simultaneously.

Many of us have ideas, dreams, and passions, but never manifest it. But you did. Was there an “Aha Moment” that made you decide that you were actually going to step up and take action for this cause? What was that final trigger?

It was a series of realizations — moments of self-discovery in any project where you learn more about yourself, whether good or bad. Looking at a project like this can be intimidating; they always are. If they weren’t, I doubt I would undertake them. There’s a challenge here: wanting to achieve something extraordinary but unsure if you can. That’s what makes it scary.

In my view, truly authentic people are those who are constantly afraid. Beware of individuals who exude unwavering confidence and unshakable optimism. Everyone presents some facade to bring these projects to life, to lead from strength, and to protect their vulnerabilities. Not everyone is willing to accept leadership rooted in vulnerability.

What kept me going was the realization that if we didn’t do it, no one else would. We had to become our own heroes, step up, and face the tough choices. It was okay to feel hurt, sad, or upset when things went wrong. But what mattered most was to keep moving forward. We had a mission, and we aimed to do it well. If something was worth doing, it was worth doing right.

I often thought of myself as like Willy Wonka — trying to inspire belief in others, ignite a sense of magic. Watching people start to believe in that magic, in themselves, in their community, and in their history was the most beautiful part. Seeing that belief come to life was incredible. I hope they never forget that they can achieve anything together.

Can you tell us a story about a particular individual who was impacted or helped by your cause?

There have been a lot of people who have come up to me and told me they cried when they watched this film. But none quite impacted me as much as this one lady who is in our film.

She had an ancestor who was in the Runaway Scrape, and she ended up becoming an actor in our film. I had actually taken a story from one of her ancestors and inadvertently put it into the script. It was the story of a child who died on the Runaway Scrape, running away from Santa Anna’s army, trying to get to Louisiana. The child had died, and the mother and father were trying to bury the child, but the floodwaters kept filling the hole. They would dig a hole, and the water would fill it back up. They would try to put their child down into the grave, and the baby would float back up again and again.

We were reenacting the scene. This was the scene of her ancestors’ experiences. Her great-great-great-great-grand Aunt was being buried in front of her eyes repeatedly as we had them walk through flooded plains with giant rain machines going off and horses and wagons. She just broke down and cried.

It brought a moment of realism, authenticity, and grounding. It reminded us they were very real. They weren’t just stories. They weren’t just people who were far off. They were our mothers and our brothers and our sisters and our sons and daughters and uncles and grandparents. The sacrifices they made were very, very real. It’s one thing to realize that they’re in your own family tree or that they’re your neighbor. Sacrifice takes on a different flavor when it’s close to home.

Are there three things that individuals, society or the government can do to support you in this effort?

Preserve your history and stories by taking the time to record your history.

Record your oral history. So much history is being lost because it’s oral and not documented, so use a recorder or phone to capture these moments. Establish archives and libraries to ensure people are remembered and history is accessible. Oral history uniquely captures personal flavor, making it easier to relate to individuals, unlike numbers and dates, which often feel distant and meaningless. When we bring these stories to life through techniques like projection-mapping, we revive and focus history, making it tangible again and enabling lessons to be learned. Collect your history and inspire artists, filmmakers, inventors, engineers, and historians to collaborate on extraordinary projects. A town’s or society’s values are reflected in their investments — if a story deserves telling, ensure it is told properly.

What are your “5 things I wish someone told me when I first started” and why? Please share a story or example for each.

1. For every hat you wear, your film will decrease in quality by 20 percent.

I have spent so much time believing I was the only one who could do it the right way, the way I wanted it done. The multiplier effect of having other people around you on a team and having them get behind your vision is one of the most magical experiences anyone can have. That requires good leadership and the willingness to give up control. Control doesn’t equal perfection.

2. Amazing artists don’t create perfect works because their medium is never perfect.

You’ll never find the perfect piece of clay, the perfect piece of film, the perfect day, the perfect night to film, the perfect lighting, or the perfect sound. Everything you do is about how you solve the problem of what to do with what’s currently in your hand. Not what you don’t have in your hand. Not what you could do or what you don’t have. But what to do with what’s in your hand right now. I think that’s incredibly important.

3. The customer is always right, even if they’re only right for choosing you.

I was talking to a friend named Hoppy Hayden, who has been in business much longer than I have. He is now a judge in Caldwell County. I shared my frustration about the idea that the customer is always right, believing it was false and that I didn’t want to burden my employees with that misconception. Hoppy turned, looked at me, smiled, and said, “John, you need to help the customer understand that the customer is always right, even if the only good decision they made was choosing you.” That made me laugh, but it also shifted my perspective because I realized I was one of the reasons they chose to work with me. Sometimes, I need to accept that they are right — simply because they chose me.

4. Money always flows to vision, confidence, and competence.

There are so many times when you can have vision and confidence but don’t have the competence to back it up. If you want people to pay for something, you need those three things: vision, confidence, and competence.

5. Learning to hit reset will determine how fast you succeed.

It’s something I have struggled with, being a perfectionist who wants perfection in what he does and yet knowing that I fail and sometimes fail people. I think that may be way harder than failing a project. You lose money, something happens, and that’s very replaceable. But feeling like you failed people can drive you mad. So learning to hit reset, to forgive yourself, to forgive others, let go, learn, and try again. That right there will determine how fast you succeed.

If you could tell other young people one thing about why they should consider making a positive impact on our environment or society, like you, what would you tell them?

For years, I traveled, visiting over 160 cities across the U.S., numerous countries in Europe, Australia, and the South Pacific. While all that was incredible — capturing stunning footage and meeting amazing people — one of our most profound impacts happened when we chose to settle in one place and engage with the local community.

People often talk about changing the world, but I believe it begins with what you have today. The reason our efforts are remembered is because we achieved something significant in a small town of just 7,000 people. Some still recall what we did and recognize the flag, but they don’t know the full story. Because we helped people accomplish something they thought was beyond their reach as individuals, and because we immersed ourselves in that community, our impact was greater than during any of our travels around the world.

Making a difference in your community can ultimately change the world. If you want to influence society or achieve something meaningful, don’t be afraid to start small.

We are very blessed that many other Social Impact Heroes read this column. Is there a person in the world, or in the US, whom you would like to collaborate with, and why? He or she might see this. 🙂

I think there are two people I’d love to work with someday on a project. LeVar Burton and Neil deGrasse Tyson. LeVar Burton, of course, from Reading Rainbow, who can ever forget. And Neil deGrasse Tyson for being the upbeat scientific voice in the room that does not belittle people but feeds people’s curiosity and encourages them to explore the world around them in a way that does not belittle, make small, or punch down, but instead encourages continued learning. Both of these individuals have inspired me and the world, and that makes you both one of my absolute heroes.

Can you please give us your favorite “Life Lesson Quote”? Can you share how that was relevant to you in your life?

I would rather have an honest adversary than a lying compatriot.

Sometimes your greatest ally is the people who are against you. They push you to sharpen your skills and get better at what you do. They also give you a level of self-reflection on what you’re doing, why you’re doing it, and how you’re doing it that few others can offer. I think that is profound.

Sometimes we need truth spoken to us by people who don’t like us. Instead of taking it personally, hating them, or getting upset or angry, we have the opportunity to learn from them. I’ve definitely had people who didn’t like me or what I was doing, who called me names, and who smeared my name. But they have always made me stronger. And that’s so much better than someone who just wants to pour honey in your ears but ends up leaving you weaker, more tired, less focused, and less able to complete what you need to do.

It is an honor for someone to believe you are enough of a threat to oppose you. I would rather have an honest adversary than a lying compatriot.

How can our readers follow you online?

They can find us at austinfilmcrew.com or our movie texaslegacyinlights.com or follow us on Instagram @austinfilmcrew

This was great, thank you so much for sharing your story and doing this with us. We wish you continued success!

Filmmakers Making A Social Impact: Why & How Filmmaker John Franklin Rinehart of Austin Film Crew… was originally published in Authority Magazine on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.