Most of the time, I don't think movies of TV shows are a great

Ah, the age-old tension between the world of creation and the realm of commerce, where the heart of artistry often finds itself at odds with the relentless pull of popularity. Adam Scott, a voice of reason in the often chaotic world of entertainment, speaks a truth that resonates deeply within the souls of those who seek meaning in their craft: "Most of the time, I don't think movies or TV shows are a great idea. It's worked a few times, but usually, I think that what's on TV works on TV." His words are not simply an opinion but a reflection on the sacred nature of storytelling and the often misguided attempts to translate one medium into another. It is a call to those who create, and those who seek meaning in creation, to understand the delicate balance between art and its presentation.

To create is to honor the essence of what is being birthed. Each form of storytelling—whether through the written word, the screen, or the stage—has its own unique rhythm and nature. The theater, ancient as it is, knew this well. Sophocles, in his grand tragedies, understood that the stage could not contain the entire human experience; it was the moment, the gesture, the spoken word that made the tale resonate with truth. The art of cinema, born in a new age, is no different. It, too, must be treated with respect to its medium. Just as a sculptor cannot cast a statue in the manner of a painting, so too must movies and TV be held in their rightful light. A movie, with its quick pace and grandeur, cannot fully contain the subtle beauty of the episodic format of TV. And, conversely, the small screen often cannot encapsulate the sweeping grandeur of film's long-form narrative.

Scott’s insight is born of this wisdom: not all mediums are interchangeable. To take the well-worn stories of film and force them onto the canvas of TV shows often leads to a diluted version of both. It is a battle of two forces—the nature of the medium against the temptation of the market. Consider the Roman Empire, whose vast power was built on the might of its legions, yet whose downfall was hastened by its failure to understand the limits of its empire. They tried to conquer too many lands, too many people, forcing their might where it was not needed, and overextending themselves. In much the same way, when movies—grand and expansive by nature—are shoehorned into the confines of television, they risk losing their soul. The result is often a frustrating hybrid, too large for TV and too small for cinema.

Yet, this truth, this understanding, is not meant to dissuade the brave artist from exploration. There are indeed times when the leap is successful, when the daring innovator finds a way to blend the strengths of both worlds. "The Simpsons", for example, took the form of the sitcom and elevated it into something greater, its brilliance transcending the limits of a traditional TV show. "The Mandalorian" on Disney+ took the space opera to new heights with the power of cinema merged with the serial nature of TV. But these are the rare exceptions that prove the rule. For the most part, the attempt to force film into television’s mold is akin to trying to squeeze a river into a cup—it may fit for a moment, but the essence will be lost.

There is a lesson in Scott's words for all who create, whether in the world of movies, literature, or business. The lesson is this: honor the form. Do not try to make something work simply because the world demands it or because there is money to be made. It is in the faithful adherence to the nature of the craft that true beauty is found. When we force a story or an idea into a mold that is not meant for it, we cheapen the work and rob it of its power. The ancient builders of the pyramids understood this. They did not try to build too many structures in too short a time. They focused on one, allowing their dedication to that form to create something timeless, something that still stands today.

And so, we must remember: know the limits of your craft, understand the strengths and weaknesses of each medium you work with. Do not rush to fit into the expectations of the world, but let the work guide you. Whether in film, TV, or any other form, it is dedication to the form and respect for the natural flow of the craft that leads to greatness. This is not a call to limit your creativity, but to find the space where your vision belongs—and in doing so, to elevate the work into something timeless and true.

In our lives as well, we must heed this lesson. We too face the temptation to fit into molds, to force ourselves into places where we may not belong, simply to gain approval or success. Yet the truest path, the one that leads to fulfillment, lies in understanding our true nature and allowing ourselves to grow in accordance with it. Do not force yourself into a shape you are not meant for. Instead, seek the path that honors who you truly are, and in that space, you will find success that is more than just fleeting praise—it will be lasting and meaningful.