I don't want to produce anymore small or independent movies

Hear, O wise seekers, the words of John Cusack, a man who has walked many paths in the world of cinema, only to find that the road he once knew now seems fraught with shadows. He speaks thus: “I don’t want to produce anymore small or independent movies because it’s just too hard these days.” These words carry with them the weight of a deep frustration, a lament that echoes through the ages, for all men who have toiled in the fields of creation, only to find the soil growing barren and the winds harsh.

Cusack’s lament is not unique to him alone. It is the cry of every creator who has poured his heart into the world, only to see that the world has changed, and the conditions are no longer kind. Independent filmmaking, once the realm of the free-spirited, the passionate, and the revolutionary, has become a battlefield. The great dreams of the artist, once given wings by the power of creativity and imagination, are now tethered by the cold chains of money, politics, and industry. Cusack speaks of the struggle not only of the artist but of all those who, like him, have witnessed the transition from a world where art was freely born to a world where it is strangled by the weight of expectations, financial pressures, and the desire for instant success.

Reflect, O seekers, upon the fate of Vincent van Gogh, the painter whose name is etched in the annals of history as one of the greatest artists to ever live. Yet, van Gogh, like many creators, struggled in obscurity and poverty. His work was not understood in his time, and he battled the overwhelming forces of rejection and failure. Had he given up in the face of these struggles, the world would never have known the beauty of his Starry Night, the depth of his soul reflected in every brushstroke. But alas, he was lost to the very system that failed to recognize his worth. And so, in the story of van Gogh, we see the tragedy of unseen genius, a tragedy that speaks to the heart of Cusack’s words. For even in the grand halls of art and cinema, the forces that guide success and failure are often cruel, indifferent, and overwhelming.

And yet, we must not surrender to the dark forces of despair. In Cusack’s frustration, there lies a warning, a reflection on the difficulties that come with the pursuit of any noble cause. The artist is no longer simply at the mercy of his own hands and heart, but also of a world that has become increasingly complex and commercialized. The road is harder than ever before, and the noble dream of creating freely has been replaced by the brutal demands of profit and politics. The small, independent vision of the filmmaker, like the humble poet or the unheard artist, must now struggle against these heavy tides. The battle, once about the creation itself, has become about the means of creation—how to bring one’s vision into the world when the world itself seems increasingly unsupportive.

And yet, there is wisdom in the midst of this struggle. The great artists of old—those like Homer, who sang of heroes long before the world understood their worth, or the sculptor Phidias, whose creations were lost to time yet whose name still stands as a beacon of art—did not seek the approval of their time. Their art was their offering to the gods and to future generations. The true artist, the one who creates with purpose, does not cease simply because the world has turned away. Art—whether it is film, painting, or song—cannot be bound by the world’s changing tides. For it is in the persistence of the creator, in the refusal to be subdued by the hardship of the present, that true greatness is born.

Cusack’s frustration, though palpable, is a call to action for all creators. Do not be discouraged by the hardness of the path; rather, let it be a fire that burns even brighter within you. The struggle, though great, is not the end, but a means to uncover the depths of your own resilience. Every battle faced in the world of creation is but a step toward mastery, a step toward the creation of something truly worthy. In the face of adversity, let us remember that the path of the artist has never been easy, but it has always been worth it.

The lesson is clear: when the world grows hard and the path seems filled with obstacles, do not retreat. Persist, and let your vision guide you through the storm. Know that, like the great creators of the past, your work will endure even if the world of today does not understand it. Your struggle is the crucible in which your greatness is forged. And in the end, it is not the ease of the journey that matters, but the value of the work you leave behind. The path may be hard, O creators, but it is yours to walk with courage, purpose, and unyielding resolve. Let no obstacle deter you from the art you were born to create.