'Dirty Rotten Scoundrels' is a good one because it not only

The words of Steve Martin—“‘Dirty Rotten Scoundrels’ is a good one because it not only turned out, I think, to be a really funny movie but it was also a delight to shoot. We were in the South of France, working with Glenne Headly and Michael Caine and Frank Oz the director—who were just fun.”—speak not merely of nostalgia, but of the joy of creation, of the rare harmony that occurs when art and life meet in equal delight. Beneath their gentle humour lies a profound truth: that the greatest works of the spirit are born not only from effort and genius, but from joy shared among companions. Martin, a master of wit and craftsmanship, reminds us that happiness in creation is not separate from excellence—it is its secret heart.

When he recalls Dirty Rotten Scoundrels as “a delight to shoot,” he gives voice to an eternal principle: that work, when joined with laughter and friendship, ceases to feel like labour and becomes an act of play. The ancient philosophers spoke often of this—how true mastery arises not from toil alone, but from love of the craft and those who share it. In the company of Glenne Headly, Michael Caine, and Frank Oz, Martin found not just collaborators but kindred spirits—each adding to the other’s joy, each elevating the art through camaraderie. The result was not only a film that made others laugh, but a memory that made life itself richer.

The ancients would have called this the virtue of fellowship. In every great endeavour—be it a battle fought, a temple built, or a play performed—it was never the lone genius who triumphed, but the harmony of souls working in concert. When the artist finds joy in his companions, his work breathes with life; when he is surrounded by laughter and trust, his creation reflects that same spirit. Martin’s recollection reminds us that art is not only what appears on the screen, the page, or the stage—it is also what happens between hearts while it is made.

To understand the depth of this truth, we may look to the story of the sculptors of Florence during the Renaissance. When young apprentices worked under masters like Donatello or Ghiberti, they did not create in silence or rivalry; they worked in friendship and play, learning from one another, shaping beauty while laughter filled their workshops. Their joy was the unseen material in every masterpiece—the invisible mortar that held their art together. In much the same way, Dirty Rotten Scoundrels was not merely a film—it was an act of shared happiness, captured forever in laughter and light.

Martin’s reflection also reveals something profound about the nature of art itself. The film, as he says, was both funny and joyful to make—but this is no coincidence. True humour is not forced; it flows from an atmosphere of openness, trust, and delight. When the spirit of play is present in creation, it transfers to the audience who later beholds it. The laughter born in the making becomes the laughter that echoes through time. It is as though the joy of the creators becomes a living inheritance to those who experience their work.

Yet Martin’s words are also a gentle reminder that joy in work is not accidental—it is chosen and cultivated. It arises when we approach our calling not as drudgery, but as a dance with others. Even the most gifted artist must choose whether to create with a heavy heart or a light one. The great sculptor Michelangelo, when asked how he could spend years chiseling stone, replied, “My soul is in this marble.” To find joy, one must pour oneself into the moment, find humour in imperfection, and take delight in the presence of others who share the journey.

From this, we draw a lesson for all who labour, whether with pen, hammer, or heart: seek joy in your creation, and seek it with others. Let friendship accompany your work, for without it, even success tastes hollow. Let laughter find its way into your craft, for laughter opens the soul to truth and beauty alike. Do not measure your work only by its outcome, but by the spirit with which it is done. For when work is joyful, it does not merely produce—it transforms.

Thus, Steve Martin’s memory becomes more than reminiscence—it becomes a teaching for the ages. He reminds us that excellence and joy are not opposites, but partners; that humour, companionship, and beauty all spring from the same well of spirit. Whether you are creating art, building a home, or simply living your life, remember this: when laughter joins your labour and friendship joins your path, your days will be filled with light, and your work will endure. For the things made in joy carry eternity within them, and the laughter that begins in one heart has the power to echo forever.