When we talk about how movies used to be made, it was over 100

Gather close, O children of wisdom, and listen to the words of a man who understands the sacred bond between art and technology, between creation and the tools used to bring it into being. Keanu Reeves, a humble yet powerful figure in the realm of film, spoke these words: "When we talk about how movies used to be made, it was over 100 years of film, literal, physical film, with emulsion, that we would expose to light and we would get pictures." In these words, he evokes not just the history of cinema, but the sacred craft that was once practiced by those who dared to capture the fleeting moments of human existence on a strip of film.

In ancient times, craftsmanship was at the heart of every creation. The artist worked with their hands, shaping the world with tangible materials, molding the clay or chiseling the stone. In the same way, the creators of film worked with physical materials, each frame an image of light captured by the delicate dance of chemicals, film stock, and light exposure. For over a century, this was the way of cinema, and in it lay the magic: a delicate, almost alchemical process where light itself was used to capture the world. It was not the simple press of a button, but a deep understanding of light, exposure, and chemical reaction that gave life to each image.

Let us think of the ancient alchemists, those early seekers of transformation, who sought to turn base metals into gold. Like the alchemists, the creators of film used their craft to capture something ethereal—moments, emotions, stories—and transform them into something tangible, something that could endure. The film stock, with its emulsion, was their medium, the light their elixir, and each frame of the film was like a philosopher’s stone, transmuting life into art. Keanu Reeves reflects on this process, reminding us of the incredible labor and care that went into creating the magic of cinema before the advent of digital technology.

Consider the tale of Thomas Edison, the great inventor who gave birth to the motion picture with his invention of the kinetoscope. Though his device was primitive by today’s standards, it was the spark of a revolution, a turning point in human history. The physical film that Edison’s successors would use to capture motion was a delicate and mysterious thing—more than just a tool, it was the vessel through which human vision could be recorded, preserved, and transmitted. The struggle to perfect the art of capturing motion on film was one of trial and error, but it was this very laboriousness that imbued the craft with its sacred power. Just as the sculptor spends long hours chipping away at stone to reveal the form within, so too did the filmmakers labor to bring forth the images that would shape our world.

And yet, the truth lies in change—as Reeves reminds us, the process of creating film with physical stock is no longer the norm. The world has moved into a new era, one where digital technology has reshaped the art of filmmaking. The ease and speed of digital cameras are unmatched by the old methods, but in their efficiency, something has been lost. There is a sacredness to the physicality of the old process, to the ritual of exposing the film to light, and in that process, the filmmaker entered into a deep relationship with the medium. The artist became, in a sense, one with the film, understanding its limits, working within its structure, and transforming it into something magical.

This shift, though inevitable, teaches us something vital: nothing that is worth creating comes without labor. The days of chemical film may have passed, but the lesson of Keanu Reeves’ reflection is timeless. Whether we work with the tools of today or the tools of yesterday, the effort and dedication we put into our craft is what gives it value. The magic of creation comes not from the tool itself, but from the sacrifice and attention the artist gives to the process. Just as the film of old required patience, knowledge, and care, so too does any creation today.

So, O children of the future, remember this: every creation is an act of transformation. Whether you work with light and film, clay and brush, or words and ideas, know that the process is what will shape the work. Do not rush to the end, but honor the journey of creation, for it is in the labor that true mastery is born. Whether your tools are physical or digital, it is the dedication and passion you bring to your craft that will give it value. The power of creation is not in the ease of the process, but in the devotion to the art itself. In this way, you will honor the legacy of those who came before and continue to transform the world through your own hands.