Is Pursuing Pure Originality the Ideal?

There’s a common belief that creators should strive for complete originality—building unique worlds and inventing entirely new forms. This is the image of the “solitary genius,” the kind of creator who stands apart from the crowd.

Philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche referred to this archetype as the Dionysian type.

Of course, pursuing this path is a personal choice, and it can be deeply rewarding. But creative work also exists within the realm of entertainment. It’s not just about satisfying yourself—it’s about creating something others can enjoy too. That shared enjoyment amplifies the creator’s own sense of fulfillment.

Here’s a crucial truth:

• The elements and structures people find entertaining tend to follow patterns
• And there aren’t that many of those patterns

So, if you aim for complete originality, you’re essentially rejecting the existing patterns that people already enjoy—and trying to discover new ones from scratch. That’s a tall order.

You might succeed in creating something “new,” but it’s likely to be confusing or even unpleasant. After all, you’re deliberately avoiding what people typically find fun or engaging.

Whether consciously or not, most stories follow established patterns—folk tales, Shakespearean structures, and so on. To add freshness to a story, you don’t need to reinvent the wheel. You just need to combine familiar elements in new ways.

The Apollonian Approach: Starting from Imitation

This leads us to the Apollonian type—those who begin with imitation.

Apollonian creators analyze works they’ve enjoyed and build new creations by recombining those elements. I’m not a Dionysian genius, so I take the Apollonian route. I’d rather avoid making something that feels “weird for the sake of being weird.”

Even Shakespeare, of his 34 plays, based 30 on existing stories or theatrical works. That’s Apollonian creativity in action.

Why Reusability Matters—and How to Design for It

Making a film takes serious time and effort. Take props, for example.

If a prop is essential to a scene, it will likely appear in close-up. If it looks cheap or poorly made, it breaks the illusion. So you invest time to make it look real—sometimes spending a week on something that only appears for two seconds.

It’s not a great return on investment.

That’s why I recommend designing everything with reuse in mind.

Say you create a doctor’s white coat for one film. Don’t toss it after the shoot—think about how it could be used in future projects. The same goes for props. If you plan for reuse, you can confidently invest time and energy into building them well.

I use a method called the Masuda-style Super Previz Technique, where actors and backgrounds are composited throughout the film. This means I often build miniature sets for interior scenes. I design these sets to be modular and reusable.

Walls and floors are built to be assembled and disassembled. Furniture and fixtures can be rearranged to create different rooms using the same materials. Windows are attached with magnets, allowing me to change their presence, type, or position without rebuilding the wall.

With just a few wall panels, I can create a wide variety of interior sets. And because the components are reused, storage space doesn’t balloon.

Inspiration from Tezuka’s “Star System”

This approach was inspired by Osamu Tezuka’s “Star System,” where characters from one manga appear in others, like actors playing different roles. It reduces the cost of creating new characters and delights fans who recognize familiar faces.

I apply this idea not just to characters, but to props and sets. Reusing a monster from one film in another—with different scale or backstory—is a technique famously used by B-movie legend Roger Corman. When reuse is the default, you can prepare higher-quality assets.

The more films you make, the fewer new materials you need. Costs go down, and mass production becomes easier.

Quantity Leads to Quality

Producing more films inevitably improves their quality.

Rather than spending months perfecting a single project, it’s better to finish multiple works and learn from each one. That iterative process leads to stronger storytelling and smoother execution.

High-quality films are less stressful to watch and more enjoyable overall.

That’s why I treat creative work like industrial production—always thinking about how to reuse and refine.

I hope this perspective proves helpful.