The problem is that Truffaut and Godard not only had something to say, they had something to prove– the fundamental right of an artist to make art theirs. That this wasn’t some crazy, outdated idea in cinema. That films could still be visceral, that you as an artist could pour yourself into your work and effectively become part of it– to have your vision reflected upon the silver screen. La politique des Auteurs was a rousing call to arms and Les cuatre cents coups was the victorious coup d’etat. There’s more there than a bright-eyed well-read kid with a story to tell. This is the problem with my recycled generation– we have learned from the masters but haven’t really added anything of value of our own. The search for a voice as a filmmaker, of an artistic identity, is as stifling as it has ever been because everybody believes they have something new and original to say when really, everybody just wants to be a 21st century Cassavettes. We’re world-weary and post-modern and smart-alecky. Everybody is eternally stuck in these moments of doubt and uncertainty and the things we say all sound the same. I’m certain we have stories to tell. I don’t quite know if we have anything left to prove.