Have We Reached the End of Original Storytelling?

There’s a moment in almost every movie I watch when I can see it coming—the next twist, the next reveal, the inevitable resolution. It’s not because I have some special gift for prediction. It’s because I’ve watched so many films in my lifetime that patterns start to emerge. So much so that it feels like I’m watching the same stories unfold again and again, just dressed up in different costumes, different time periods, different actors.

But that raises a question: Is it just me? Am I so immersed in film that I’ve simply absorbed the rhythms and beats of storytelling? Or have we genuinely reached a plateau where originality in film is more of a rarity than a norm?

Are We Trapped in Convention?

Francis Ford Coppola recently posed an interesting challenge—why can’t we even reimagine the world anymore? Why do so many films feel trapped in the same conventions, the same formulas? It’s almost as if filmmakers are afraid to truly break the mold, fearing that audiences won’t follow them into uncharted territory.

This isn’t about just storytelling structures. Sure, the Hero’s Journey, the three-act structure, and the rise-fall-redemption arcs have been around forever. But even within those frameworks, there used to be a sense of risk-taking, of unpredictability. Now, it feels like films are designed to meet market expectations rather than artistic vision. The industry isn’t pushing boundaries as much as it’s checking boxes:

• Will this play well in overseas markets?

• Can we squeeze a franchise out of this?

• Will the algorithm favor it on streaming platforms?

And in that race to optimize, something gets lost.

Coppola himself has voiced frustration with this trend. Following his film Megalopolis receiving a Razzie Award for Worst Director, he pushed back against the industry’s aversion to risk-taking, saying that Hollywood's fear of risk prevents the creation of enduring masterpieces. In an Instagram post, he emphasized how risk is essential to filmmaking and that without it, movies become stagnant, predictable, and ultimately forgettable.

Have All Stories Been Told?

Some argue that every story has already been told—love, loss, redemption, revenge, the rise and fall of power. But I don’t buy that. Sure, the core themes might be universal, but originality isn’t just about what a story is—it’s about how it’s told. The perspective, the execution, the layers of meaning that breathe new life into an old idea.

The problem is that too many filmmakers aren’t telling stories from the deepest parts of themselves anymore. They’re crafting content, not cinema. They’re writing for the marketplace rather than writing from an artistic necessity.

And maybe that’s the real issue. The industry has conditioned audiences to expect familiarity. To reward safe choices. To favor sequels, adaptations, and reboots over bold, new voices.

So Where Do We Go From Here?

If originality still exists—and I believe it does—how do we bring it back? Maybe it starts with us, the filmmakers, the storytellers, the creators. Maybe we have to stop worrying about market trends and start taking risks again. Maybe we need to tell the stories that keep us up at night, the ones we’re afraid to put on paper.

And maybe audiences need to be willing to step into the unknown, to embrace the discomfort of a story they can’t predict, a world they haven’t seen before.

Because if there’s one thing I still believe in, it’s this: There are always new stories waiting to be told. We just have to be brave enough to tell them.