I Want to be Popular

Crowds have never been my thing. And I make types of films that are left in the shadows, far from being widely known. But let me tell you a truth: I want to be popular. I can’t blame popularity just because I lack it. It’s not evil. The real problem starts when we link popularity with populism. I mean, when we see popularity as a goal, give the people exactly what they expect, and adjust our standards to please them. That’s populism, not popularity.

Populism degrades quality silently. Unlike something obviously bad, which you can easily spot, call out, and avoid, populism can present mediocrity as a masterpiece. It can appear in many different guises to achieve its purpose, even disguising itself as a niche to target specific groups, being populist within certain circles. But popular doesn’t always mean pandering. Sometimes things get popular because they are good, just because of a mix of weird, unpredictable circumstances. Popularity and quality can absolutely intersect, even if not too often.

Populist Game

In theory, it’s not difficult to make the distinction, but in practice, populism and popularity are intertwined. In cinema (and art in general), artists play this populist game, but, of course, no one wants to admit it. We think populism is something only politicians do, but we all do it in our own little way. Many filmmakers divide the audience into segments and target them: cinephiles, festival-goers, indie film lovers, arthouse fans, and so on and so forth. This is just another form of populism, just a smaller circle.

So when you try to hit the tastes of a group, you start following instead of leading the way. It’s like taking a survey before you create anything. You ask permission, and you are no longer in charge. Of course, art is for people, but not people who fit into categories. To me, it’s for imaginary people, even the people who don’t exist yet, that you can’t (and shouldn’t) ask and guess their tastes. Surely, I care about those people. Otherwise, I wouldn’t chase a style of cinema that invites them in, where their creative inputs shape the work. They are part of my creative team, and I make films for them, but without taking into account a consensus of what they might want from me.

Populism Machine

YouTube is a great place to see how popularity and populism play out in real time, because it’s all there in the data. I follow a bunch of channels. They are about things I care about. And there is a pattern that I notice, which often happens.

When a channel starts, the creators do their own thing. They are passionate and niche. Their channel grows, and some of them get popular. That’s great: what’s good and what’s popular meet. And you expect it to continue. But at a certain point, creators start to change their approach. They start making highlight videos, asking for likes, begging for comments. The schedule changes. What was once a monthly video becomes weekly. They start chasing current trends, they jump into every conversation and subject. They promote a product in the middle of the video; sometimes, they even create the content just to promote a product. At some point, they start making videos for the algorithm, for the followers, for the likes, and for the profit. And the content doesn’t feel like it did before. The sense of sincerity and honesty disappears. Fanatics and haters emerge. They clash in this love-hate relationship. The haters hate, but they still watch. The fans love it, but they want more. And every comment, positive or negative, feeds this populism machine.

And, if you are just jumping into the channel, you are only seeing the tip of the iceberg. You only see the surface, not everything that’s been built underneath: all the hard work, the mistakes, the lessons learned, the organic and unpredictable way to popularity. Then, new creators copy the surface. They think they have found the formula. And we get a newborn child: mediocrity.

Popular Caricatures

It’s the same story with filmmakers. They reach a point where they become their own caricatures, locked into a persona their audience expects. They follow a pattern that keeps them in their safe zone, which leads them to make imitations of their own works. Some follow formulas, some don’t. But even the idea of “no formula” becomes a formula in itself: a niche or a counter-attitude that they hide in and pretend to resist the mainstream, hide behind “not caring about popularity”. There are many of them, known as independent, award-winning, non-mainstream, controversial… but they ride on specific audiences, themes, labels, and identities that are somehow popular in certain circles.

So, they act as pure populists. If a film gets funded, they make another just like it. A theme wins an award, they exploit it. A style works, they don’t risk changing it. Festival programmers, audience, followers, everyone’s taste shapes their next move. They all get their dose. And, of course, upcoming filmmakers follow this surface as an example.

Here is a version with a bit more common sense: “You need to listen to your audience, but also ignore them and keep going your own way.” A personal development myth that always sells. But those two never go together for me. We, humans, are incredibly adaptive. When we interact too much, especially with an audience, we start self-censoring, which puts us at risk of following rather than leading our path. Any external stuff just seeps into us. They change us, bit by bit, without noticing. That’s why I believe we should be proactive, not reactive. We should design our environment and build a world where the right stuff gets in and the wrong stuff bounces off. In other words, we should censor them before they lead us to censor ourselves.

Inspiration vs. Desperation

Okay, perhaps it’s not all bad. Perhaps some can make it work. They connect, they balance, they play by the rules, and still make something good. In this case, I would say it’s just about me; it just doesn’t fit me. I hear the same thing a lot: “Why don’t you use social media?” I do. But the thing is that I stay away from the kind of interaction that makes me censor myself. I pick what works for me, what keeps me going. And of course, what I think is good for others.

Whether it’s personal or professional, I like sharing experiences. It can guide people. It can inspire them. That’s something to be proud of. But when sharing turns into showing off or aggressive self-promotion, things change. Instead of inspiring, it starts to create despair. People compare themselves, feel jealous, and become too eager for things that they shouldn’t have. And they can’t find an exit because the measure is always someone with better achievements or things, or opportunities. That’s how it works. Most of the scrolling social media is a market where the price of expectations increases in a delusional way. You aimlessly scroll and constantly increase your expectations and needs. I don’t want to contribute to this noise that makes people feel that way. I don’t want my work or my words to do that (at least not with my own hands).

And I don’t let anyone else do the same to me. They do one thing, and I do another. My circumstances, pros, and cons are different, and each should have its own criteria. But if you are constantly exposed to different criterias, you may find yourself a party to a war that is not yours. And your audience is not always as diverse as it seems. They mostly fall into a category of a country, a segment, a label, or an identity. Sometimes the numbers rise, but the spectrum narrows, which increases the risk: the risk of being misled, of being drawn into their expectations, shaped by their leanings away from your own needs and sensitivities.

Prophets Not Needed

Think about the writers you love. The ones in your bookshelves. If you could interact with them whenever you wanted, how would that change your relationship with their work? Would you still enjoy those quiet, personal thoughts that come with reading? Many of those writers are probably dead. You can’t influence them even if you want to. You can’t make them change into something you want, or in fact, something you wouldn’t like. All you can do is sit with their work, let it speak to you, and grow on your own terms. That is it. That’s the kind of interactivity I seek in both my works and any artist’s.

I am not here to flatter you, and vice versa. But if we still keep the connection, I believe that’s something worth having. It’s a one-on-one relationship, where each person has their own needs to fulfill. Of course, the more people I can connect with, the better. But I don’t expect them to be followers or disciples to gather around some big idea of a prophet. I can only hope that my path somehow intersects with them. And I want it to come from a way never meant to be popular. I don’t think any self-respecting person should ever chase popularity.

And I am saying all of these now, while I am still failing. You know, it’s easy to preach once you have made it. Success always sells, and even makes the wrong ideas look right. But now, while I am still figuring it out, I am putting these words out here. I am staking my claim without a safety net. I am pushing back against the noise, the doubts, the rules, the judgments, the can’ts, and the way things are: I want to be popular.

Is this guaranteed to work? No. Does it satisfy me? Yes.