Why Capturing the Soul of an IP Is So Challenging

The Infernal Media Machine

The modern media landscape churns out an endless stream of content, like an infernal industrial mechanism, leaving behind a trail of mediocrity in its wake. For many, it’s tempting to romanticize the past, to hark back to the so-called “golden age” of cinema. But in truth, good films are still being made, despite the perpetual roughness of the industry. The idea that there was once a golden age is a copout. Quality exists across eras if one knows where to look.

I’m not an elitist, and I don’t dismiss contemporary cinema wholesale. The arts as a whole suffer under the weight of a grueling, competitive industry that’s driven by passion but simultaneously exploits that passion for profit. What you pour into the craft often seems to be less than what you get out, and yet it’s the passion of creators that keeps the gears turning.

Consider the Jurassic Park franchise. We have six films, yet only one is remotely good. The sequels devolved into family-friendly blockbusters, abandoning the tense thriller elements that made the original great. The first Jurassic Park thrived because it never let you forget that the characters were in mortal danger, facing ferocious, prehistoric predators. It was dark, with hints of horror—a far cry from the sanitized sequels.

The Impostors Among Us

I often refer to these directors who steer franchises off course as impostors in the art form. They lack the empathy, understanding, and soul necessary to do justice to the source material. They may be competent managers, but they fail to capture the essence of what makes these stories resonate.

What’s the point of five Terminator sequels when none of the directors grasp the atmosphere of the first two films? It’s a cash grab, preying on fans’ hopes—“Maybe it’ll be good this time!”—despite all the warning signs. I can respect Terminator: Salvation for at least attempting to explore the post-Skynet world, even if it was ultimately mediocre. It aimed to do something different, to add to the lore, and that effort deserves recognition.

To evoke the true feeling of a story or world, a director must possess empathy and a sensitive touch. It’s the writer’s and director’s job to make the audience feel what the characters feel, to immerse them in the atmosphere, mood, lighting, and score. Every element must work in harmony. After all, what is a world but a feeling we’re trying to evoke?

But such directors and creators are rare. Legendary art, whether in painting, cinema, music, or video games, is uncommon by nature.
Successful execution of an idea or film isn’t exclusive to the director either. The entire crew must be in sync, on the same wavelength.

A Director Who Gets It: Denis Villeneuve

One director who stands out as truly “getting it” is Denis Villeneuve. His approach to Arrival and Blade Runner 2049 showcases his ability to both adapt and evolve existing stories while respecting their essence. In Arrival, Villeneuve masterfully evokes feelings of dread and anticipation surrounding the mysterious heptapods, creating a palpable tension that mirrors humanity’s existential uncertainties. With Blade Runner 2049, he seamlessly extends the legacy of Ridley Scott’s original, capturing a dystopian, ultra-consumerist future that amplifies the anxieties of our own world. Villeneuve’s skill lies in not just recreating worlds, but in making them resonate on a deeply emotional and atmospheric level. He knows how to evoke the feelings that make these stories timeless, proving that with the right touch, even familiar narratives can be revitalized.

A perfect example of Villeneuve’s approach is his selection of composer Jóhann Jóhannsson for Arrival. Having already worked together on Prisoners and Sicario, Villeneuve trusted Jóhannsson to push the boundaries of traditional film scoring. Villeneuve specifically sought out Jóhannsson, recognizing that his unique approach to sound would align perfectly with the film’s unconventional narrative. Villeneuve wanted a score that could capture both the vastness of space and the intimate emotional journey at the heart of the story. Jóhannsson delivered exactly that by blending deep, resonant brass, bass woodwinds, manipulated human voices, and layered electronic textures into a soundscape that feels both organic and otherworldly. Villeneuve fully embraced this direction, understanding how these haunting, droning soundscapes complemented the film’s sense of mystery and depth. The result is a score that doesn’t just accompany the film—it elevates it, pulling you deeper into the story with such subtle yet powerful artistry that it lingers long after the credits roll.

The Marvel Treatment

While the Marvel films aren’t exactly high art, they know what they are and don’t take themselves too seriously. The challenge of adapting comic book illustrations into 90-minute live-action movies is not lost on these filmmakers, so they lean into humor and spectacle. But this formula has bled into other films, corrupting genres that require a more serious touch.

New films often mimic the Marvel style because they lack the confidence to portray their worlds with sincerity. Instead of crafting a believable, immersive environment, they resort to generic jokes and predictable “time for the audience to laugh” moments. It’s easier to deliver something self-aware and lighthearted than to convince viewers that what they’re seeing is a living, breathing world. In short, it’s hard to avoid being cringeworthy.

I’m using well-known franchises as examples, but this issue extends beyond blockbusters. Sci-fi in particular is notoriously difficult to get right. Translating a fictional world into a believable cinematic experience requires more than flashy effects—it requires depth and attention to detail.

Potential Squandered

Capturing the soul of an IP isn’t just about having a great idea—it’s about leading an entire team to bring that vision to life. It takes more than just one person; it's a collective effort of everyone understanding how music, lighting, atmosphere, and every tiny detail work together to build a cohesive world. The director’s vision has to tie all of these elements together, making sure they don’t just tell the story but make the audience feel it.

When it works, it’s something to treasure. When it doesn’t, we’re left with adaptations, sequels that make no lasting impact—throwaway films that fizzle out as quickly as they come, leaving behind nothing but disappointment and untapped potential.