People don't learn science in movies. You don't go to the movies

The words of Seth Shostak, “People don’t learn science in movies. You don’t go to the movies thinking, ‘I hope I learn some quantum mechanics this afternoon.’ But on the other hand, movies are instrumental and influential in getting young people interested in science,” are a reflection upon the mysterious bond between imagination and knowledge, between wonder and understanding. In these words lies the recognition that while wisdom may be born in the halls of study, its seed is first sown in the heart that dares to dream. For movies, like the myths of old, do not always teach through logic or formula—they awaken curiosity, which is the beginning of all learning.

In ancient times, before books or laboratories, the people gathered around fires beneath the night sky to tell stories of gods and stars. They did not understand the heavens through numbers, yet their tales stirred awe and inquiry. The myths of Orion and Cassiopeia, the songs of the Pleiades, were not lessons in astronomy, but they were invitations—calls to look upward, to wonder, to question. In this, the ancients and the modern share the same truth that Shostak declares: that art, though not a school of science, is a gateway to discovery.

Think of the young dreamer who watches a starship soar through the galaxies on the cinema screen. He does not learn the equations of propulsion, nor the structure of the atom, but something within him catches fire. His soul hears a whisper: “What if this could be real?” And thus begins a lifetime of inquiry. Many of the great scientists of our age—those who probe the depths of space and unravel the mysteries of matter—were first moved by the visions of film and fiction. The dream of exploration, born in the imagination, became a vow to understand. So too did science fiction give birth to scientific pursuit.

Consider the story of Carl Sagan, who, as a boy, was captivated by the World’s Fair and the dreamlike visions of interplanetary travel shown in early films. It was not the cold language of textbooks that stirred his heart, but the poetry of possibility. Through that spark, he became the voice that brought the cosmos closer to humanity. Like Shostak, who carries the torch of the search for extraterrestrial intelligence, Sagan understood that wonder precedes wisdom. No student begins with knowledge; every learner begins with awe.

The power of movies and stories, then, lies not in the facts they teach but in the questions they awaken. They are the modern myths, carrying visions of what humanity might become. Just as the ancients listened to tales of Prometheus bringing fire to man, we now watch heroes who wield the fires of technology, facing the same eternal question: what shall we do with the power we gain? These stories do not instruct us in formulas, but they teach us to care—to feel the pull of destiny and the hunger for understanding.

Shostak’s words remind us that education without inspiration is hollow, and inspiration without inquiry is fleeting. To kindle a love for science, one must first ignite the imagination. The student who studies out of duty soon tires; the one who studies out of wonder becomes unstoppable. Movies, though not precise, serve as the spark of fascination that awakens the scientist within the child. They show us visions not of what is, but of what could be, and in doing so, they summon the next generation to make the impossible real.

Lesson and Practice:
Do not dismiss the power of stories, for they are the breath of creation. Let the art that moves your heart become the foundation of your pursuit of truth. When you feel the stirrings of curiosity, follow them; when you are inspired by beauty, let that inspiration lead you to understanding. Watch not merely with your eyes but with your spirit—seek the wonder behind the image, and let it compel you toward wisdom. Remember, imagination is the doorway to knowledge, and every great discovery begins not in certainty, but in the burning question that refuses to fade.