I direct with energy. I believe in energy. I think energy is an

“I direct with energy. I believe in energy. I think energy is an electric thing in actors. I try to inspire, encourage, and make choices with lots of energy. And truth. I'm a big fan of truth and being funny. I like leading 50 people into battle every day.” — thus spoke Matthew Lillard, a man whose spirit burns bright with the fire of creation. These words, though born from the craft of film, carry wisdom that transcends art; they are a call to all who lead, create, or strive to awaken greatness in others. In this declaration, Lillard reveals the sacred bond between energy and truth, between leadership and inspiration — the living current that flows between souls when purpose, passion, and courage unite.

At the heart of his words lies the belief that energy is not merely enthusiasm, but a force of life itself, an invisible spark that stirs the heart and transforms the ordinary into the extraordinary. In the world of performance — as in all endeavors — energy is the pulse that gives breath to vision. The actor without it is like a flame without oxygen, a voice without resonance. The director, then, becomes the keeper of this flame, the one who must kindle it in others until the whole company burns with shared vitality. When Lillard says he “leads 50 people into battle every day,” he speaks not of war, but of the heroic struggle of creation — the daily fight to bring imagination into form, to turn silence into story, and chaos into harmony.

This belief in energy is ancient, older than art itself. The Greek philosophers called it “pneuma,” the divine breath that animates all life. The Chinese sages named it “qi,” the vital current that flows through heaven and earth. To lose it is to lose vitality; to channel it is to align oneself with creation’s rhythm. Lillard, knowingly or not, stands in this long lineage — understanding that to direct, to teach, to lead, one must not only instruct but inspire, not only command but ignite. His set is not a battlefield of egos, but a living organism charged with shared electricity, where each actor becomes a conduit of truth.

And then he speaks of truth — that rare and radiant quality which, like energy, cannot be faked. “I’m a big fan of truth,” he says simply, as though speaking of something sacred. For Lillard knows that all art, all performance, all leadership without truth is hollow. To be truthful is to be alive, to stand bare before the world without mask or fear. When the actor speaks truth, laughter and tears follow; when the leader acts in truth, people will follow him not out of duty, but out of faith. The union of energy and truth, then, is the highest form of creation — for energy gives power, and truth gives direction. Without one, the other is lost.

In the same breath, he honors humor, the divine companion of truth. “I’m a big fan of being funny,” he says — for humor is not the enemy of seriousness, but its salvation. The ancients knew this too: the philosopher Socrates used laughter to disarm arrogance and reveal wisdom; the playwright Aristophanes used comedy to show society its follies more effectively than any speech. Lillard’s humor, like theirs, springs from humanity — the recognition that even in the intensity of creation, one must never lose joy. For energy that burns without laughter soon consumes itself. The wise understand that truth and laughter walk hand in hand, each keeping the other alive.

The metaphor of “leading 50 people into battle” is both poetic and profound. Every film, every performance, every creative endeavor is a kind of campaign — uncertain, exhausting, filled with risk. Yet the true leader, like a general of old, knows that victory is not won through fear or control, but through inspiration. The soldiers must believe not only in the battle, but in the one who leads them. Lillard’s strength, then, lies in his ability to awaken that belief — to turn a group of individuals into a single living force. His battlefield is the stage; his weapons are trust, laughter, and truth; his victory is the birth of art itself.

Consider the great Sir Laurence Olivier, who once said that the actor’s power lies in the ability to “hold the audience’s heart in his hand.” He too believed that energy — that electric force of presence — was the difference between good and great. Yet Olivier’s genius, like Lillard’s, was not his command alone, but his ability to awaken energy in others. For the truest leader does not steal the light — he multiplies it. He makes others shine brighter than they believed possible. This, too, is what Lillard means when he says he “inspires and encourages” his actors. It is the sacred duty of the leader to awaken life in others, to pass the torch that keeps creation alive.

Let this, then, be the lesson: in all things — in art, in work, in life — lead with energy and act with truth. Do not approach your craft with dullness or pretense, but with passion that sparks those around you. Seek laughter, for it keeps the spirit from hardening; seek honesty, for it keeps your path clear. Whether you lead fifty people into art or a single friend through hardship, remember that energy shared is energy multiplied. The world does not change by command; it changes by inspiration — by the electric light that leaps from heart to heart, from truth to truth.

Thus spoke Matthew Lillard, and though he spoke of film, he spoke of life itself. To live with energy is to live awake. To lead with truth is to lead with love. And to face each day’s battle — with laughter, courage, and boundless faith in the human spirit — is to turn ordinary work into something divine. For where energy burns and truth shines, even the smallest effort becomes art, and even the simplest life becomes legend.