I'm very sensitive about the fact that there's not a lot of good

Denis Villeneuve once declared with clarity and care: “I’m very sensitive about the fact that there’s not a lot of good work for women in cinema that also deals with strong characters. But ‘strong character’ doesn’t mean ‘masculine character’—but something that finds the strength in femininity and the beauty in femininity. And something that says you can find femininity in men in some way.” These words are not only about art but about the eternal balance of the human soul. They remind us that strength wears many faces, and that true greatness is found when both the masculine and the feminine are honored in their own dignity.

For too long, the world has equated strength with hardness, aggression, and domination—qualities often stamped as “masculine.” Yet Villeneuve speaks of another path, one known to the ancients. The ancients revered femininity, not as weakness, but as a different form of power: the wisdom of patience, the endurance of compassion, the courage of creation, the quiet yet immovable will that sustains life itself. This is not lesser strength, but strength of another kind—subtle, enduring, and profound.

In the myths of old, we see this truth reflected. The goddess Athena was not only the patron of wisdom but also of war—yet her war was not blind rage, but strategy and justice. Hera, though often portrayed as jealous, embodied the fierce guardianship of family and dignity. These ancient stories, though distorted by time, still whisper the truth Villeneuve reminds us of: that strength in femininity is real, vital, and different from the crude mirror of masculinity.

He also dares to speak of femininity in men—a thought that unsettles those who cling too tightly to rigid divisions. Yet this, too, is ancient wisdom. The philosopher Plato wrote of the harmony of opposites, and the Chinese sages spoke of yin and yang, where softness balances hardness, and yielding proves stronger than resistance. A man who denies his capacity for tenderness, empathy, and beauty is only half a man. To embrace the feminine within is not to lose strength but to gain wholeness.

History gives us living proof. Consider Mahatma Gandhi, a man who stood against the might of empire. His power did not come from brute force or the sword, but from patience, humility, and the moral force of non-violence—qualities often seen as feminine. Yet they toppled one of the greatest empires in history. In him, the beauty of femininity was not weakness but the highest form of strength. So too in cinema, in life, in all human endeavors, we must recognize that the feminine brings its own heroic power.

The lesson is clear: do not confuse strong character with mimicry of masculinity. Let women be written, portrayed, and honored as strong in their own right, not by erasing their femininity but by revealing the strength that lies within it. And let men not fear the feminine within themselves, for it softens arrogance, tempers violence, and teaches love. A society that honors both aspects of the human spirit will be richer, wiser, and more just.

Therefore, let Villeneuve’s words be carried forward as teaching: art must reflect the fullness of humanity, not a narrow image of it. In your own life, seek the strength in femininity—whether in yourself or in others. Honor compassion as much as courage, beauty as much as power, tenderness as much as tenacity. For when masculine and feminine walk together, not in rivalry but in harmony, then the world will know characters, leaders, and lives that are truly strong.