Why 90% of Modern Movies Are Garbage (The "Wider Audience" Lie) | Guillermo Del Toro

In this interview‑style video curated by Evan Carmichael, Guillermo del Toro shares candid reflections on his life and work as a filmmaker. He opens with a stark metaphor that making movies is "eating a sandwich of shit"—the process is messy, but experience adds a little more bread over time. Del Toro explains his early fascination with monsters, rooted in lucid dreaming from childhood, and how that shaped his preference for dark, fairy‑tale storytelling. He recounts his early jobs—real‑estate sales, car sales, painting highways—and how he leveraged hands‑on makeup‑effects work on the TV series "Hora Marcada" to break into feature filmmaking, eventually creating his debut film Cronos and winning Cannes. Throughout, he stresses artistic integrity over commercial appeal, rejecting the notion of diluting violence to reach a "wider audience" and arguing that financial success is not true success. He emphasizes protecting the core images of a project, even at great personal financial risk, and advises aspiring filmmakers to be true to themselves, embrace failure, and differentiate themselves through unique, personal vision. Del Toro also discusses the balance between desire and restriction in film production, the importance of studying film history across eras, and the need to stay on the creative side of the industry rather than being swayed by agents or box‑office metrics. The conversation concludes with reflections on happiness, rhythm in work, and the enduring value of identity in art.
Chapters
Making movies is eating a sandwich of shit. And the only thing that gets a little better is as the years go by, you get a little more bread. But the shit's always there.
It was very well-meaning. Why don't you take out the violence so you can reach a wider audience? That's because I don't fucking want a wider audience. I want the audience for the movie.
I come from a country where you didn't make money because you made movies. You lost money because you made movies. And I was trembling and I was I was happy the movie was being recognized, and B, I was not going to jail.
He's a Mexican film director, screenwriter, producer, and novelist. He's had a lifelong fascination with monsters, which he considers to be creatures of great power. His work can be characterized as a strong connection between fairy tales and horror. He's Guillermo del Toro, and here's my take on his top 10 rules for success. Rule number 1 is my personal favorite, and make sure to stick around all the way to the end for some special special bonus clips. Also, as he's talking, if he says something that really resonates with you, please leave it in the comments below and put quotes around it so other people can be inspired as well.
Enjoy. It started in the crib.
I was a baby, and from the crib all the way to age 11 more or less, I had what is called lucid dreaming, which means that you dream that you are awake.
Hola.
So I literally saw monsters. I was used to monsters. I love them. But, you know, at a very early age, I made a deal with them to allow me to go to the bathroom because I was so afraid I ended up peeing my crib. And, you know, we stayed friends. So, you know, there are only two things you can do in art or in narrative and storytelling. You can tell about the good stuff in life, which has always been very boring to me, and you can tell stories about the dark side of life, which has been much more attractive to me. When I talk to pre-first-time filmmakers or first-time filmmakers, I always tell them Look, making movies is eating a sandwich of shit. And the only thing that gets a little better is as the years go by, you get a little more bread, but the shit's always there.
But isn't it that true of life also?
I think it is. I mean, I use another metaphor for life, but for film, I tell you, that one fits.
And but in the end, somehow you find the joy?
Well, you end up convincing yourself that it's peanut butter.
And is it ever peanut butter?
I want to believe it is.
But do you look back and go, oh, yes, I did that?
I tell you, without a doubt, we may say this is the greatest Being an artist in whatever discipline, dance, painting, theater, whatever you want, is the greatest work on earth. I mean, it's truly disheartening in this way or that way, but so is every job. So is every job. I, when I was younger, I worked with my father on real estate for about 5 years. I was the worst car salesman in the history of car salesmanship. I was—
Because you were too honest or?
Yeah, people would come and say, what about this? I think, no. I was, you know, Glengarry Glen Ross. I would not get the knife set. I would be Shelley LeBen. I would be out, out. It was terrible. My father said, you're terrible. But I and the other vendors, whenever I went out, the other salesmen, whenever I went out to a client, they actually laughed behind my back, actually physically were laughing behind my back. And I was the worst. But in real estate, I was good. I was good in real estate. And my father used to say, you have to do this to show that you can have an honest living, do an honest living. And what I did is work on real estate in the mornings and I did monsters in the afternoon. But I know that when you have a real job, I painted highways one summer in Wichita, Kansas. I mean, a real job has equal heartbreak and stuff like that and politics.
Well, I mean, this is for— I think it's one of the things that people really misunderstand is as glorious it is to be able to do the things you're passionate about and to be an artist, it's still a job. It is not—
Oh, it's still a job. It is work. Yeah, yeah, it is. It is. But God bless anyone that can do this. It's beautiful. And you have to truly be grateful. And the only way to remain objective about how grateful you need to be is present your present. To your past self when you're 20 years old. And if you go and talk to yourself at 20 years old and said, would you like to be doing this movie with this budget? What do you think your response at age 20 would be? Absolutely yes.
You know, I think that financial success is not success. You know, to me, when people say, for example, I showed Pan's Labyrinth And somebody said, why don't you take out the violence? And it was very well-meaning. Why don't you take out the violence so you can reach a wider audience? That's because I don't fucking want a wider audience. I want the audience for the movie. Each movie has an audience. That's it. It's not going to get more or less if you fuck with it, if you amputate it, if you cripple it. That's all you do. You know, people dream of a bigger audience, and I go, well, you know, yeah, but is it the movie If in order to make more people happy, the Cinderella doesn't get the prince at the end, I don't know.
It's not the same tale.
As much as I like the Disney films of the Renaissance of animation, every time I see The Little Mermaid, I think, but she dies in the book. She dies at the end. That's what made made it beautiful, that the prince was ultimately so stupid. And I understand they are reaching a wider audience, but is it the tale that Hans Christian Andersen wrote? No fucking way. It's a different movie. It's a different tale. So if you're asking me, was Little Mermaid successful as a film? I say it was, but it wasn't the tale. It's a great— I love those films. I really think they're beautifully constructed, but it's not the tale. So Pan's Labyrinth without the violence is not Pan's Labyrinth. It's, I don't know, it's a fantasy like Harry Potter or Narnia or any other fantasy film.
And you know, when they say, oh, I would like you to do this for me, or— and I produce a lot of first-time filmmakers. But I don't produce all first-time filmmakers that approach me. And I say, look, if I say no and you give up, I'm sorry to tell you, but it's the wrong job for you because you live with rejection for decades sometimes as a director and you end up making the movie you want to make. So if I say no, that doesn't mean I'm right or I'm wrong. You just say, Fuck him, I'll show him later. You know, I'm gonna make it and that fat bastard is gonna have to say, "I was so wrong," and hit himself in the head because he didn't do it. And I think that's the thing to do is like, show us, don't tell us, you know, do the things. And if you do them wrong, but you do them in your own terms, that's how I define success, failing in your own terms. I come from a country where you, didn't make money because you made movies. You lost money because you made movies. And all of my life, when I approach a new project, I'm 50, 50 years old, and I've done now I don't know how many movies as producer, director, blah, blah, blah. And I still have the same emotion when I go into a project. I go, how much am I willing to lose to do that image? And there's always one or two images in every project that you would mortgage your house, sell your car, give everything you have to, to make sure that image comes to save— to save.
I've heard you talk about like Pacific Rim. It was the girl with the red shoes. Absolutely. You like had to make that movie just to see that.
It doesn't matter what you go through, doesn't matter if they, they give you X amount of time, but you need to always always protect the images that are crucial.
What did Cronos achieve for you?
Well, that movie changed my life because we were more than the underdog, more than the dark horse. We were a movie that nobody wanted to produce, nobody was supporting except my producers in Mexico. And we suddenly were selected for Cannes, and literally we were all of a sudden one of the most awarded movies in Mexican film history. I remember the first time Cronos won the first award, which was a cash award. Before that award, we were in debt for half a million. We won the award and literally, like a beauty contest, I was crying, crying on the stage, holding this giant check. And I was trembling and I was really moved because A, I was happy the movie was being recognized, and B, I was not going to jail.
I used to do makeup effects for my stuff. They were very bad, but I was the only one doing them. So a lot of friends, when I was doing my short films, they would see the effect and say, "Who did that for you?" And I say, "I did it." And they started telling me, "Would you do mine?" And I started doing it and I realized it was an edge with which going to feature films. And what I did is, for example, we did a TV series called "Hora Marcada," which is, again, terrible filmmaking, but we were all learning. Alfonso Cuarón was there, I was there, Emmanuel Lubezki, the DP, Guillermo Navarro, my DP. All of us started in that series, and we were doing little experiments. And I would— I said to the producers, I'll do the makeup effects for free. You pay the materials, I do them for free, but in exchange I write and direct episodes. And they said, that's a good deal.
So it was a way to put your foot in the door.
and I was already on the way to do Cronos. I started writing Cronos around 1985, and I knew that in order to make the device, the Cronos device, and the makeup effects, I needed to create a company that would tell the producers there's someone that can do those effects. So as soon as I did Cronos, essentially a year later, the shop was closed. 'cause it had served its purpose. What's some stuff that aspiring filmmakers can do just to separate themselves from the herd, from the noise?
Well, I think that be themselves. I mean, you can be hard to peg. Some people may like you, some people may not like you. Some people get what you do, some others think you're crazy, but if you are true to yourself, if you only do things that you really believe in and that are personal to you, then you know, you don't need the approval of anybody else, really. I mean, that's, that's in my opinion what distinguishes not only the great horror filmmakers, but the great filmmakers in general. You know, some people can go through life shooting B movies and eventually they get discovered, you know, by an audience that caught them at the right time. Some people go all their lives shooting sort of underground little things and they can find their audience. And it's a matter of being true, not trying to be somebody else or have some different type of budget. I mean, you'll find your audience and your audience will find you. I think what I strive to is to, to, to connect deeply with audiences that like what I do, even if the audience at large does or doesn't. It makes no difference to me. I make weird movies no matter what size the movie is, and they're not for everyone. And a lot of people may be puzzled or say, why did he do this? But I only do things that I hope speak to somebody in the same fetishistic way that I was spoken to by people that got high on their own supply. Because I get high on my own supply. I make the movies because I want them, you know, and whether it's robots and monsters duking it out or it's a post-war fable or whatever it is, they're done because I want to see them. Happiness is a very difficult thing to define. I think it's fleeting, you know, and I think that is— I'm the happiest when I'm working, you know, in a project of mine and all that. Even then, I think it's a rhythm. I think you get into a rhythm of work and personal life that you feel balanced about. But I think happiness is sort of too chirpy a term to try to achieve. That sounds like perfection. Both seem to me equally unattainable at its purest. I think you find peace. I think that's what That's what I would look for more than happiness.
When you're on a set, do you find moments of great pleasure?
Oh yes. Yes, discovery is happiness. Whenever you see something that you wrote and rewrote for 6, 7 years come to life, it's just beautiful and you're completely content and you feel fulfilled and it's magical. I mean, it sounds like a cliché, but it's true. Or when you see An actor in wardrobe, makeup, everything completely coming to the set for the first time is purely magical. I mean, there are many things that are like that in the course of discovering. Or when you are with an actor and something doesn't work, or with a camera and something doesn't work, and you find a solution and it's better than what you wanted to do first. Those are moments found some great happiness.
I've never thought of my work or my life as a career.
I never—
that's why I have fucked up so many times. And you know, I want the right to fuck up, and that's the only inalienable right of a human being, is to fuck up. And I cherish the screw-ups. So, you know, I'm going to continue fucking up in the same way I've been fucking up since the beginning, and that's the only promise of quality I can give you. You're going to get the same shit from the same guy with the same earnestness, and I'm never gonna worry about salary or career or shit like that. I can't. I'm genetically engineered to do my own thing, you know, and that's what— if I had been more malleable, I have never given my version of what happened on Mimic, but I fought and won the war, lost a lot battles but won the war. And it was a very tough war, and it was a very frontal war. And I learned the value of identity in that process. And I tell you, that's the only thing I'm concerned with. I don't respond to the world. If they say, yeah, we're going to pay you $10 million to direct an action, a straight action film, Can you imagine that? Waking up every morning and going to shoot a movie that, you know, that's like, you know, not having a boner and going to a sex show every day for work. What do you do? And you're going to show up and you're going to, hey, I see the same thing.
Pan's Labyrinth is a project del Toro had no problem showing up for. An adult fairytale with a dark side.
I think that the movie comes from a very, very dark, very genuine place in my heart, and I think that sincerity always finds an audience, no matter how small, no matter how large. Is Pan's Labyrinth gonna be, you know, is gonna make the same money that Little Nemo did?
No.
But whatever audience it touches, it's gonna touch really deeply. Will Pan find people that fall in love with it rabidly in the world?
Yes.
Will it find people that never understand what the appeal is?
Yes.
But it's a film that comes from a genuine place. And it has the two things that are absolutely necessary to make film: balls and heart.
Thank you guys so much for watching. I made this video because David DJ Pacheco asked me to. So if there's a famous entrepreneur that you want me to profile next, leave in the comments below and I'll see what I can do. I also love to know which of the points that you heard today had the biggest impact on you. What are you going to take from this video that you're going to immediately apply to your life or to your business somehow? Leave it in the comments. I'm curious to see what you guys have to say. Finally, I want to give a quick shout out to Armin. Armin, thank you so much for picking up a copy for a copy of my book, "Your One Word," and for reading it while having your soup as well. I appreciate that. Hope you're enjoying the book and thank you for the support. Thank you guys again for watching. I believe in you. I hope you continue to believe in yourself and whatever your one word is. Much love. I'll see you soon.
I honestly think that a film in complete and absolute freedom with unlimited budget is A, impossible, and B, undesirable. I don't think you want that. I think you want— I think film is most definitely an exercise between desire and restriction. You know, you need to, you need to have a— my actor from Cronos, Federico Luppi, he said to me something beautiful because we were doing a scene and he said, what do you want me to do here? And I said, whatever you want. Written for you. And he said, no, I can only be completely free if you give me some confines. He says, then within that I'll be free. And I understood that was, that was a beautiful way of putting it. And I think that's, that's art, but certainly filmmaking. You, you have, you define those sort of goals and posts, and then you, you run around in there. So do you have ideas and go, oh, okay, I'm gonna Oh yes, all the time. All the time. Because, because I think that your ambition should always be more than your budget. It doesn't matter what your budget is. I remember talking to Alfonso Cuarón while he was prepping Harry Potter, and he was saying, we're trying to contain it on— and he said, gave me the number, whatever, $120 or $200. And I went, what? And it's true, you're trying to contain in a movie like that. You're still trying to contain the The myth of people that see a big movie and say, "Oh, if they give me the money, I could do that," it's a myth. It's entirely a myth. And it comes with some absolute lack of knowledge of how these things operate, because it's a military operation. And the larger it becomes, still, the budget is a monster and a wall, and you're running a train against it, and you need to know where to stop. Watch as many movies of as many eras as you can. When I was coming up through the ranks, there was a thing called a cinema club in the '70s where you threaded 16mm film and you projected it. And I became familiar with people that are important to me, like Max Ophuls, like Laurel and Hardy, the Three Stooges. You became familiar with Renoir. You became familiar with everything from the comedy to drama. You can see Preston Sturges. Don't just limit yourself to what is out there or the latest 10, top 10 at the box office. That's the main tool. Imbibe, live film history because you are part of that narrative. Even if it's not film anymore, anymore. You're part of that narrative tradition. And the second thing I feel very important: do not get wrapped in the industry side of this. That's what I find really heartbreaking, that people are now— a lot of times you're discussing film with people that love film, and it's like you're listening to an agent from an agency or a head of a studio. They know the grosses, they know who's doing is, you know, is that's absolutely not important. The important thing is that tradition you are gonna belong to, and do not get caught on the other side. Stay true to the other side that needs you and needs to exist urgently.
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