WHY I RARELY GO TO THE MOVIES ANYMORE

I used to live for Friday night movie premieres. I don't anymore. This isn't because I've stopped loving cinema. Quite the opposite. I've spent nearly thirty years studying storytelling, and somewhere along the way I realized I wasn't falling in love with new movies the way I used to. Here's why.

I was five years old when I killed a shark.

At least that's how I remember it.

My earliest memory of cinema is my mother taking me to see Jaws. Why she thought it was a good idea to bring a five-year-old to that movie, I have no idea. Maybe movies didn't make it to Puerto Rico very often back then. Maybe she thought I wouldn't understand what was happening.

Whatever the reason, there I was.

The moment the shark appeared on screen, I jumped out of my seat, pulled out my toy six-shooters, and started firing.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

The theater erupted in laughter.

My mother pulled me back into my seat.

I'd like to think she was laughing too.

Ever since that moment, I've been hopelessly in love with movies.

And when I say love, I mean obsession.

Movies became the source of every game I played, every story I told, and eventually every story I wrote.

I saw Star Wars sixty-five times.

That's not an exaggeration.

I can trace my life through the films that shaped me. Dead Poets Society. The Karate Kid. Amadeus. Akira. Schindler's List. Gladiator. No Country for Old Men.

These weren't just movies.

They were experiences.

They expanded my imagination. They challenged my assumptions. They taught me about courage, friendship, sacrifice, love, and the dangers of conformity.

Most importantly, they made me curious.

Curious about people.

Curious about life.

Curious about what it means to be human.

Lately, I've found myself asking a difficult question:

Why don't I feel that way anymore?

I rarely go to the movies these days.

Part of that is probably the explosion of entertainment options competing for our attention. We live in a world of endless content.

But I think there's something deeper going on.

The films that stayed with me weren't trying to tell me what to think.

They were asking questions.

Big questions.

What would you sacrifice for your family?

What would you do to survive?

Can a person redeem themselves?

What does honor look like when no one is watching?

The greatest films weren't lectures.

They were explorations.

They trusted the audience enough to wrestle with difficult ideas and arrive at their own conclusions.

That's the tradition of cinema that I love.

Cinema as a search.

Cinema as a conversation.

Cinema as an act of wonder.

I still believe movies can do that.

I still believe stories can help us understand ourselves.

I still believe a dark theater can be one of the most magical places on earth.

That's why I've spent my life studying this art form.

It's why I spent eighteen years teaching filmmaking.

It's why I've written books about storytelling.

And it's why I started my YouTube channel.

My goal isn't just to teach filmmaking techniques.

It's to explore why stories matter in the first place.

Because beneath every great film is a deeper question about what it means to be alive.

If you're a filmmaker, I want to help you make movies that matter.

If you're simply someone who loves stories, I hope you'll find something valuable here too.

Every week I'll share lessons from great films, thoughts on creativity, and ideas about how storytelling can help us navigate life.

And yes, every now and then, I'll probably tell a story about shooting sharks from the audience.

Until next time, check out my latest video:

"Five Signs You've Written a Killer Screenplay."

If you’re interested in learning more about what I do, HERE are some of the products I offer.

And remember:

Don't just direct your movies.

Direct your life.

— Miguel

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