Before Mrs. Milstead passed away, I had the honor of sitting with her at a local Fort Lauderdale club for a screening of this film. Frances was in great spirits, surrounded by friends and fans. She was gracious, friendly, and happy. The film began, and as people watched, Frances surveyed the crowd. She laughed, she cried (during scenes involving her son, Divine), and had a cocktail or two. The documentary lovingly covered her life, her marriage to her husband, and the relationship with her son, Glenn (Divine), or "Glennie" as she called him. It was very touching to see her responses to the scenes about Divine's death. Sniffles could be heard, and tears could be seen by nearly everyone watching the film (myself, included), and Frances was obviously moved. But it wasn't sappy at all. The film centers mostly on Frances, her friends, her day-to-day life, her workout-sessions (those were particularly funny), and there are lots of interviews with people who knew and worked with Divine. Overall, the film is what you'd expect. Distribution has obviously been a problem, considering the documentary was made more than 2 years ago. And with Mrs. Milstead's death, less than a year after the project was completed, my hopes are that the filmmakers may have been able to add some extra footage from the interviewees, commenting on her passing, and that maybe the sad fact of her dying may make finding distribution a little easier.
After the movie, Frances was surrounded by fans wanting to meet her and share their feelings. She was so open to meeting everyone (there were about 100 attendees), and stayed for about an hour after people started to clear out. Then, I asked Frances to autograph my copy of the book "My Son Divine". She was glad to see the book again, and showed it to some older women who had accompanied her tho the event. She signed my book, and a promotional poster for the film that I snatched off the wall, which I framed and hung in my living room, alongside a fantastic picture of her son, Divine. I then gave her a hug, and she and her friends left. That all happened on Mother's Day, and Frances Milstead was one heck of a mom.
