“The idea of having to photograph a car makes me ill. And the idea of photographing a cellphone is just … death. So, no.”
That’s what acclaimed director of Oscar-nominated “Nosferatu” and horror darling “The Witch” Robert Eggers said when someone asked him about directing a film set in the current day. And while I originally found it easy to nod my head and smirk at his answer in understanding, it does beg the question: Why is one of the seminal filmmakers of the modern era so averse to capturing that modern era on film, and is that a problem?
Eggers isn’t the only prominent auteur to hold this viewpoint. Christopher Nolan, fresh off his Academy Awards juggernaut “Oppenheimer” is diving even further into the past for his next project, adapting Homer’s “The Odyssey” for the big screen in 2026. James Cameron, widely considered the “King of the Blockbuster,” seems perfectly content making “Avatar” sequels until he dies. Even Greta Gerwig, who rose to fame writing and directing modest contemporary dramas, is opting to helm a “Chronicles of Narnia” remake for Netflix after the success of “Barbie.”
While I personally pay the most attention to films, I think this notion persists in other artistic mediums as well. Think of the popularity of shows like “Game of Thrones” and “Bridgerton” in television, as well as dystopian books like “The Hunger Games” and the fantastical world building of “A Court of Thorns and Roses” in literature. Why do we have such hard-ons for period pieces, historical fiction, and futurism? Where is the contemporary work from so many of our top artists?
The answer is multifaceted, but one of the biggest pieces of the puzzle is that, well, it’s hard.
Writing about the past means there’s history and research to depend upon during the creative process. Plus, if you get it wrong, who’s going to call you out besides peeved historians? If you’re writing about the future, it hasn’t happened yet, allowing you to make it up as you go to a degree. But writing about the present comes with a greater risk of what you write becoming dated or coming off as a generalization that doesn’t encapsulate the true feelings of the modern day. You don’t know how it will be viewed in a year, or in five, which is intimidating to writers who ultimately want their work to be well-received.
Another contributing factor is the lack of passion storytellers and audiences seem to have for “the now.” Once filmmakers reach a point where they can choose their own projects and easily get them funded, such as Nolan, they tend to lean into their passions and interests when making their films. And those passion projects tend to disproportionately focus on specific time periods, historical events, and fictional worlds. Whether it be due to the subject matter itself or the romanticized aesthetics of history, it is seen as a waste of an opportunity to make something more akin to “Nomadland”—best picture winner, by the way—than “The Last Samurai.” Nobody gets a blank check to realize their creative vision and chooses to cash it on everyday life.
But is all of this, like, actually an issue? A big part of why art is loved is for its escapism: the ability to go somewhere we wouldn’t otherwise get to experience. With so many issues in the world today, a lot of people don’t want to spend any more time thinking about it than they have to.
While this preference is not inherently bad, it is slightly problematic just how far the pendulum seems to have swung. If the first choice from artists is always to portray something other than the present, our ability to contextualize, relate to, and comment on the here and now is weakened. Escapism can be extremely valuable, especially during hard times. However, that isn’t the only thing for which art is valuable, and an overreliance on it could lead to a reality not too dissimilar from the dystopian worlds we often choose to escape to.
It’s also important to acknowledge that noncontemporary works will often tackle contemporary themes and issues within their historical or futuristic setting. A film like “Selma” does not provide commentary solely on racial tensions as they were in 1965 Alabama. Though I’m a big fan of this transcendence of human themes across time, the value of it is somewhat lost if there is not an understanding of those themes as they relate to the current day. That understanding is furthered most effectively through contemporary work.
Period pieces and worldbuilding epics make up several of my favorite films, books, and TV shows. There is absolutely a place for them and I hope they continue to get made. At the same time, I would love it if Quentin Tarantino announced that his highly-anticipated, alleged final movie is something closer to “Reservoir Dogs” than “Once Upon a Time in Hollywood.” I would love it if in addition to using art to avoid our problems, we used it to understand them.
This is my plea to storytellers and artists: Don’t cast off modern times just because you don’t like it, or because you’re afraid of it. Create that iconic character that fits seamlessly into 2025. Show us a real-world experience that doesn’t get highlighted, or isn’t already being heavily researched. And to Robert Eggers, specifically—photograph that damn cellphone.
