If I make a movie in English, the money will come from Europe, so

“If I make a movie in English, the money will come from Europe, so that I can keep my independence and freedom. The way they produce in Hollywood doesn’t fit me.” — Pedro Almodóvar

In these proud and deliberate words, Pedro Almodóvar, the great Spanish filmmaker, declares the sacred value of independence and freedom — not as abstract ideals, but as the living breath of creation. His statement is not merely about cinema, nor even about art, but about the eternal struggle between the spirit of the creator and the machinery of power. In his defiance of Hollywood, Almodóvar speaks as the ancients once spoke of kings and empires: that gold may build mighty halls, but it cannot purchase the soul of a free man. He seeks not fame, but truth; not profit, but purity of vision. And thus, he aligns himself with all who, throughout history, have chosen integrity over indulgence, and solitude over servitude.

The meaning of this quote is luminous and profound. Almodóvar reveals the cost of freedom in a world driven by commerce. He knows that art — true art — cannot bloom where it is chained by the expectations of the market or the commands of financiers. Hollywood, for all its glamour, represents a system where creativity often bows before money, where the heart of the artist is measured not by depth, but by profit. Almodóvar refuses this yoke. He would rather work with less — with smaller budgets, with fewer assurances — than sacrifice the voice of his soul to the formulas of a system that prizes spectacle over sincerity. In this, he teaches a truth older than any empire: that freedom is the oxygen of creation, and that once it is lost, all brilliance dims.

The origin of these words lies in Almodóvar’s lifelong journey as an artist who defied conformity. Born in the shadows of Franco’s Spain, he came of age in a time when expression itself was rebellion. His early films, bold in color and emotion, broke through the silence of repression and gave voice to the unheard — to women, to outsiders, to the wounded and the wild. When fame came, and with it the temptations of Hollywood, he did not bow. Offers were made — lucrative, grand, promising prestige. Yet he turned them away. For he knew that within those offers lay the quiet death of independence. In Europe, he found the space to remain himself — eccentric, raw, untamed. His art could breathe there, unshackled by the machinery of mass production. And so, his words are not a boast, but a vow: that no price will ever purchase his freedom.

To understand the wisdom of his choice, we may recall the story of Vincent van Gogh, another soul who refused to sell his vision for comfort. Van Gogh painted not what was popular, but what was true — fields of fire, faces of anguish, skies that trembled with longing. The world dismissed him, called him mad, left him destitute. Yet he remained faithful to his art. He died poor, but his name outlived those who mocked him. Had he painted to please others, his works might have been forgotten; because he painted from the depths of freedom, his spirit endures forever. Almodóvar’s words echo this same defiance: that true creation must serve the soul, not the market, and that the cost of authenticity, though high, is worth paying a thousand times over.

There is, in Almodóvar’s stance, a broader teaching for all who walk the path of their own calling. Whether in art, in thought, or in life, the lure of the powerful system — the Hollywoods of the world — is ever-present. They promise ease, applause, and wealth, but often demand the surrender of individuality in return. The ancients knew this well: that those who kneel for comfort will rise in chains. To remain independent is to choose the harder road, where one must rely upon one’s own strength and conviction. Yet this road, though narrow, leads to greatness — for the fruits of freedom are pure, while the rewards of compromise rot in the heart.

Let this be the lesson that Almodóvar offers to all who dream of creation: guard your independence as you would guard your life, for they are one and the same. Do not measure success by the applause of the crowd or the weight of gold, but by the truth that endures in your work. Create with integrity, even if the world misunderstands you; speak with honesty, even if the powerful would silence you. For the artist who serves only himself serves the divine spark within all mankind, and the light of such courage will never fade.

And so, Almodóvar stands as a modern philosopher of freedom — a man who has looked upon the glittering towers of empire and turned away, choosing instead the humble sanctuary of the independent spirit. His words remind us that freedom is not comfort, but struggle; not applause, but authenticity. To live freely is to accept hardship as the price of the soul’s integrity. Whether in art, in thought, or in the quiet making of one’s destiny, let us remember: it is better to create one honest song in solitude than a thousand false ones beneath the command of others.

For in the end, the world forgets the merchants of fame, but it remembers forever those who refused to sell their truth. Independence — in life, in art, in spirit — is the only empire worth building.