The scale of 'Independence Day' is much more than 'Stargate.'

The words of Dean Devlin, co-creator of Stargate and Independence Day, carry within them a truth that transcends cinema: “The scale of ‘Independence Day’ is much more than ‘Stargate.’” At first glance, the statement speaks simply of films — of visual grandeur, larger budgets, and global spectacle. Yet beneath the surface lies something deeper: a meditation on vision, ambition, and the ever-growing reach of the human imagination. For every creator, every dreamer, there comes a moment when the next endeavor must rise beyond the last — not merely in size, but in scope of purpose. Devlin’s words, then, remind us that true greatness does not rest upon what has been built, but upon what we dare to build next.

In the realm of art, as in life, scale is not measured by magnitude alone. It is measured by spirit — by the courage to expand one’s vision beyond the boundaries of comfort. When Devlin compared Independence Day to Stargate, he was not merely contrasting two films; he was acknowledging an evolution. Stargate had opened a door — a tale of discovery, of a single portal between worlds — but Independence Day sought to encompass the whole of humanity. It was no longer the story of one expedition or one people, but of the Earth itself standing together beneath the shadow of destruction. In that leap — from the intimate to the universal — lies the eternal human hunger to create something greater than oneself.

The origin of the quote comes from Devlin’s own reflection during the mid-1990s, when he and director Roland Emmerich were crafting what would become one of the most iconic science fiction epics of its era. Stargate had already found success, introducing audiences to a fusion of myth and technology. But Independence Day would go further, reaching beyond imagination into emotion — uniting global fear, heroism, and hope in one sweeping vision. The scale was not only physical — the grand battles, the vast skies, the alien armadas — but also spiritual: it captured the heart of humanity’s collective struggle for survival and freedom. Thus, Devlin’s observation is both technical and philosophical: to grow as a creator is to challenge the limits of the last triumph and to risk everything for the next.

Such growth is a universal law, echoing through history’s greatest endeavors. Consider Michelangelo, who, after sculpting the David, might have rested upon his fame. Yet he chose instead to paint the Sistine Chapel, a work whose scale dwarfed not only his previous creations but also his own expectations. Or Walt Disney, who, after the success of Snow White, dared to envision an empire of imagination — films, parks, worlds without boundaries. Like Devlin, they understood that the true measure of art is not the applause of the moment, but the courage to reach higher, to think in grand designs, and to embrace risk over repetition.

But there is wisdom, too, in what Devlin’s words imply beyond the realm of art. In every person’s life, there comes a time when one must expand their own “scale” — when the quiet dreams of youth must grow into the bold pursuits of purpose. Whether in career, in love, or in faith, the call to expansion is the same: do not linger in what you have mastered. The Stargates of our lives — the first achievements, the safe discoveries — prepare us for our Independence Days — the moments that demand all our courage and vision. It is by answering that call that we transform from creators of comfort to builders of legacy.

Yet this expansion demands humility. For to reach beyond the familiar is to face the vastness of the unknown. The ancients knew this truth well: Odysseus, leaving Ithaca, found both glory and loss; Prometheus, in giving fire to man, paid with his suffering. So too must every innovator and visionary risk failure to touch greatness. The scale of a dream is not measured by its certainty, but by the depth of conviction that sustains it. Devlin’s words remind us that to grow is to stand on the edge of fear and step forward nonetheless, trusting that the strength of vision will give shape to chaos.

Thus, the lesson endures: in every endeavor, seek to enlarge not only the canvas, but the soul. Whether one paints, leads, builds, or teaches, let each act of creation surpass the last — not in vanity, but in service to the human spirit’s ceaseless evolution. Do not fear the vastness of the dream; it is the sea upon which greatness sails. Scale is not merely about size — it is about significance, about the widening of heart and mind.

And so, from Dean Devlin’s reflection, we draw an eternal truth: every masterpiece is a bridge to the next, every victory a foundation for greater vision. Let us, then, create our own Independence Days — not just in art, but in life — moments where our reach extends beyond comfort, our courage surpasses fear, and our imagination becomes as boundless as the stars themselves. For it is only in daring to dream on a grander scale that the human spirit fulfills its highest purpose.