Cinema has always been a visual medium, but at its heart, it has also been a myth-making machine. Stories told through film often encapsulate profound truths about humanity, presenting us with archetypes and themes that mirror and question our society. However, recent trends in filmmaking suggest a troubling shift: the mythic resonance of a story is increasingly being overshadowed by spectacle. This substitution of depth with dazzling effects and grandiose battles strips films of their intimate and reflective core, leaving audiences entertained but not transformed.
The Mythic Soul of Gladiator
Ridley Scott’s Gladiator (2000) is a masterclass in storytelling that marries intimate myth with epic scale. At its heart is Maximus, a man driven not by glory but by a deeply personal quest for justice and reunion with his family. The film’s myth lies in its ability to connect Maximus’s internal journey with universal themes: the fragility of power, the corrupting influence of ambition, and the longing for home. The battle scenes, while spectacular, are secondary to the emotional resonance of the character’s journey.
Fast forward to the highly anticipated Gladiator 2. Early glimpses and insider reports suggest that the sequel is doubling down on spectacle: larger battles, intricate CGI recreations of ancient cities, and grander stakes. But the danger here is evident—without a central myth to anchor the narrative, the spectacle becomes hollow. What made Gladiator a cultural touchstone was not its scale but its soul. Losing sight of that would reduce the sequel to mere visual noise.
The Wizardry of The Wizard of Oz
Victor Fleming’s The Wizard of Oz (1939) is another shining example of mythic storytelling. Dorothy’s journey through Oz isn’t just a fantastical adventure; it’s an allegory about self-discovery, the nature of power, and the human desire for belonging. The film invites viewers to question societal norms—what does it mean to have a heart, courage, or intelligence? What kind of leader hides behind a curtain? These are profound questions that linger long after the technicolor spectacle fades.
Contrast this with the upcoming Wicked film adaptation. While the visuals are undeniably breathtaking, the narrative risks becoming bogged down by its focus on world-building and aesthetic. Early impressions suggest that Wicked is more enamored with the spectacle of Oz’s fantastical world than the intimate, thought-provoking themes that made the original Wizard of Oz so enduring. A society is not only impressed by beauty but shaped by introspection, and the lack of parallel societal commentary in Wicked may render it a fleeting rather than lasting cultural artifact.
The Problem with Spectacle
Spectacle, when done well, can elevate a story—just look at Lord of the Rings or Avatar. But when spectacle becomes the focus at the expense of storytelling, it dilutes the film’s impact. This shift is symptomatic of an industry increasingly driven by box office returns and franchise potential rather than artistic integrity. Big battles and stunning visuals may draw crowds, but they don’t foster the kind of emotional connection or societal reflection that myths do.
Spectacle provides a fleeting thrill; myth resonates through time. A myth challenges us to see ourselves in the characters, to question our values, and to imagine a better world. Spectacle, on the other hand, risks reducing film to a passive experience, where audiences are awed but not engaged.
What We Lose Without Myth
The myth in storytelling is more than just an element of plot—it’s the lens through which we understand ourselves and our place in the world. When filmmakers sacrifice this for spectacle, they rob us of the chance to grapple with big ideas and universal truths. Instead, we’re left with surface-level entertainment that, while visually impressive, lacks the staying power to inspire or provoke.
The Way Forward
Filmmakers must remember that great stories begin and end with the myth. Audiences crave more than eye candy; they seek meaning. The success of films like The Wizard of Oz and Gladiator proves that stories with strong mythic foundations can also be commercially successful. Future filmmakers would do well to revisit these classics, not just for their cinematic techniques but for the way they weave spectacle into a narrative that never loses sight of its soul.
As viewers, we must demand more from cinema. Let’s champion films that dare to balance scale with substance, spectacle with soul, and action with introspection. Only then can the myth reclaim its rightful place at the heart of storytelling.
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