I wanted to do another movie that could make us laugh and cry and

The words of Steven Spielberg, “I wanted to do another movie that could make us laugh and cry and feel good about the world. I wanted to do something else that could make us smile. This is a time when we need to smile more and Hollywood movies are supposed to do that for people in difficult times,” reveal not only the heart of an artist but also the mission of the storyteller since the dawn of civilization. In these lines we hear the echo of the ancients who gathered their tribes by the fire and wove tales that gave courage in hardship, healing in sorrow, and joy amid despair. For Spielberg recognizes that art is not mere diversion, but medicine for the soul.

The smile he speaks of is no shallow grin, but a deep stirring of the spirit that arises when one feels hope rekindled. In times of trial—when nations tremble, when families suffer, when hearts grow weary—there is a profound need for stories that remind us of beauty and possibility. Spielberg’s words remind us that laughter, tears, and smiles are not luxuries, but lifelines, signs that the human heart can still be moved, still be alive, still endure.

The ancients knew this well. During the Peloponnesian War, the playwright Aristophanes gave Athens comedies that mocked leaders and celebrated joy, even as the city staggered under the weight of war and plague. His plays did not erase the suffering, but they gave the people laughter and a sense of shared humanity. In much the same way, Spielberg envisions cinema as a fire around which the weary may gather, finding both escape and renewal. For a story that can make us laugh, cry, and smile becomes a sanctuary for the human spirit.

There is also within Spielberg’s words a recognition of responsibility. Hollywood movies, like the myths of the ancients, are not merely entertainment—they are vessels that carry hope, dreams, and strength across generations. In choosing to create stories that uplift, he wields his craft not as a weapon of distraction, but as a tool of healing. His films, from E.T. to Schindler’s List to Saving Private Ryan, have reminded audiences of tenderness, courage, and the endurance of the human spirit. Through them, he gives what all true artists seek to give: not just images, but meaning.

The teaching is clear: in difficult times, we must become storytellers of hope. Whether through film, music, word, or simple human presence, we carry the power to help others smile again. A smile may not end wars, but it can keep a weary heart from surrendering. A story may not stop the storms, but it can be the lantern that helps us walk through them. Spielberg’s desire is not for applause, but for the quiet miracle that happens when a human soul remembers joy in the midst of sorrow.

The lesson for us is this: do not underestimate the gift of making others smile. Your stories, your kindness, your gestures of compassion may be the very medicine someone needs to endure their darkest hour. Just as Spielberg saw his craft as a duty to bring hope, so too can each of us carry this duty into our own spheres of life. It may be through humor in hardship, through listening in silence, or through creating beauty where ugliness reigns.

To practice this wisdom, ask yourself each day: how can I bring light to another? Tell a story to a child that makes their eyes glow. Share a memory that brings laughter to a weary friend. Offer a smile to a stranger burdened by unseen grief. Like the films that Spielberg crafts, these moments may seem small, yet they ripple outward, sustaining lives we may never fully know.

So remember, O children of tomorrow: in times of difficulty, we need to smile more. This is not to deny the sorrows of the world, but to refuse their dominion. Carry forward the ancient fire of storytelling, of kindness, of joy. Make others laugh, help them cry, remind them to hope—and in doing so, you will weave peace into the fabric of a broken age, just as Spielberg and the great storytellers before him have done.