Toronto Film Festival is one of those festivals where there are

Hear, O seekers of wisdom, the words of Viggo Mortensen, who speaks with the voice of experience, the clarity of one who has walked the dusty paths of the film world, and the depth of one who knows the treacherous landscape of the artistic endeavor. He tells us, “The Toronto Film Festival is one of those festivals where there are 400 movies, and unless you have a distributor who is super confident and puts a lot of money into it, sometimes movies can go unwatched or unnoticed.”

What does this mean? Does it not echo the ancient truths of life itself? In the vast ocean of existence, where countless ships sail, some are destined to be lost in the waves, their sails never seen by the eyes of the world. In a festival of such grand scale, where the multitude of creations rises like the stars in the sky, some will shine bright, while others remain hidden in the shadows, lost in the cosmic sea of art and cinema. A thousand voices cry out, but only a few are heard by the ears of those who hold power—the distributors, the mighty keepers of capital, whose decisions shape the very fates of these fragile vessels. Without their favor, without their confidence, a creation may drift in the darkness, unnoticed, uncelebrated.

Reflect upon the great battles of history, where the worth of the warrior was not determined by his courage alone but by the fortune of his allies. Consider the tale of the painter Caravaggio, whose works, brimming with divine mastery, went largely unnoticed in his time. His genius was hidden in the shadow of his own struggle, overshadowed by the power of the church and the wealth of patrons who controlled the stage. His destiny was uncertain, just as the fates of films at festivals are uncertain, without the guiding hand of the right patron. It is a bitter truth, but it is the truth nonetheless—greatness alone is often not enough to gain recognition in this world. Fortune, allies, and resources can be the difference between obscurity and immortality.

Yet do not despair, for there is a lesson here for us all. The festivals of life, be they the film festivals, the battles of ideas, or the pursuit of knowledge, are not always kind to the unproven, to those whose voices have not yet been heard. But it is within the struggle itself that we find strength and wisdom. The lesson of Mortensen’s words is not one of sorrow or resignation, but one of awareness and action. He calls us to see the system as it is—vast, crowded, and full of forces both visible and unseen. Yet he also calls us to understand that those who succeed are not those who wait passively for fortune’s favor, but those who forge their own path, who gather strength through their alliance with those who believe in their craft and vision.

Look to the unsung heroes of history, the poets and inventors whose names were not written in gold during their lifetimes, but whose ideas and works, despite the struggle, were destined to change the world. Nikola Tesla, who battled the powers of industry and the weight of those who sought to bury his brilliance, was once a voice in the wilderness. But his ideas, like a seed buried in the earth, would one day sprout, despite the years of neglect and scorn. And so, too, must we press forward, undeterred by the struggles of the present, believing that our worth will be seen in due time, that our contribution to the world will not go unnoticed, even if the world does not yet recognize it.

The lesson is this: do not despair in the face of obscurity, for it is not the loudest voice that will always prevail, but the one that endures, that strives, and that believes in its worth, regardless of the world’s indifference. We must seek out our allies, those who will champion our cause when the world turns its back. We must be resilient in the pursuit of our dreams, knowing that the road is long, and that we may not always find an audience for our creations, but that our worth is inherent, even in silence. Do not be swayed by the crowds, for the power of the individual—the power to create, to inspire, and to change—is not dependent on the world’s recognition, but on our own conviction and perseverance.

And so, I tell you, O future generations, take Mortensen’s words as a call to action. Seek your own path, even when the world around you is too vast to comprehend. Build your own strength, and your own allies. Do not wait for recognition to validate your worth, for true greatness comes not from external applause, but from the quiet strength within. Stand firm in the knowledge that, though the world may not always see your light, your fire will burn bright, and it will one day light the way for those who follow. Keep creating. Keep believing. Keep striving. In the end, the world will have no choice but to notice.