Read these short review clips on the same movie.

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“This film is a disaster of epic proportions — an absolute train wreck that careens off the tracks, crashes, and then somehow sets itself on fire.”

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“I so desperately wanted to be part of the minority who enjoyed Megalopolis. However, what an abhorrent nightmare; or maybe a fever dream is more accurate.”

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“Painfully dull, self-indulgent, pretentious, incoherent mess of a movie.”

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Reading these alongside one another, you wouldn’t think they were written about a film by a director long regarded as a living master. Francis Ford Coppola is responsible for The Godfather and The Godfather Part II, films that continue to define cinematic ambition and authority. These reviews, however, were written about Megalopolis, his most recent, self-financed film, a project so costly and poorly received that it may have effectively ended his career.

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Megalopolis budget:
$120M

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The Godfather (1972): $6–7M
≈ $50M today

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The Godfather Part II: $13M
≈ $86M today

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Now consider Spielberg’s note about The Godfather.
“The greatest American film ever made.”

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With a stacked cast, production, and PR team, how could one of the living cinematic masters make such a widely hated film, after first making what many consider one of the greatest films of all time despite having more experience, more advanced tech, and more money to burn?

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Instead of looking at what makes these films different, or what he did differently to make a classic and a flop, a more interesting question is: in what ways was the process identical? This isn’t a film analysis or cultural critique so much as it is a mechanical one. It’s not about why The Godfather is better, or whether Coppola has lost his grip due to age or decline. What we will explore is how the underlying process behind both his masterpieces and hated films is essentially the same. Understanding how the processes behind his greatest and worst films is identical, we can better understand the underlying mechanics of all creative and mental output. If the underlying structure and processes of creative output are the same across all fields of human activity, then it becomes valuable to understand these structures deeply—just as a geneticist cannot do her job well without a microscope, an astronomer without a telescope, or a butcher without a knife.

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Less & More

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I’m likely aware of less than 1% of what I can do with my phone. Between its built-in functionalities and what’s possible through the thousands of apps I could have working independently and simultaneously, the gap is enormous. I have no interest in learning most of these. Though I’m certain there is a world of information there that I could explore if I wanted to, which might make me 10% more fluent with my phone and perhaps allow me to accomplish 10% more in 10% less time. There are similarly many other domains I have little interest in exploring. How to mass-produce tea leaves, for example. How a vacuum works. What’s happening in the stock market and why. What the hell is going on with Charlie Kirk’s wife. Etc.

This exploration is for anyone who wishes to explore the nuances of the mind—particularly as it relates to creative processing, mental output, and generative capability. The basic idea is that a large part of what we do, and how we live, relies on the creative computational functions of the mind. The mind is a powerful variable in both our lived experience and our contributions to the world. As such, understanding its mechanics and nature is valuable for anyone who wishes to enhance both the content and the capabilities of their mind.

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Atmosphere & Environmental Variables
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It may be that in fifty to one hundred years, people will look back on Megalopolis and say it was an overlooked masterpiece. Maybe not. But we know this has happened before. A thinker, artist, leader, or innovator shares a vision that goes over people’s heads, and it isn’t until after they die—or ten, fifty, or one hundred years later—that people recognize what was missed.

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Xerox PARC invented the graphical user interface, the mouse, and networked computing. Xerox failed to commercialize any of it. These ideas now underpin nearly every modern computer and smartphone.

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Nikola Tesla developed alternating current and foundational electrical systems. He died nearly penniless while others monetized his work. His insights now power global electrical grids and modern energy infrastructure.

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Galileo provided empirical evidence for heliocentrism. He was condemned for it. His model became the foundation of modern astronomy and science.

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Herman Melville wrote Moby-Dick. It failed commercially during his lifetime. It is now taught across universities and regarded as one of the great American novels.

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Vincent van Gogh sold almost no paintings while alive. He died in obscurity. His work now sells for some of the highest prices in art history and defines modern painting.

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Ignaz Semmelweis proved handwashing reduced deaths in childbirth. He was rejected and institutionalized. His insight became a basic principle of modern medicine.

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In each case, the failure was not one of vision, intelligence, or execution, but of alignment with the surrounding environment—cultural, institutional, psychological, or economic. We are not going to explore how to align with environmental or atmospheric conditions here; we are simply acknowledging that such alignment exists, and that examining it properly would require an entirely separate exploration.

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The Four Knobs

Now that we’ve touched on the environmental and contextual variables of creative output, let’s examine it in a bubble—as it functions within the mind of any individual solving any type of problem.

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Input: That which you experience through body or mind
Interpretation: The way you make sense of your experience
Synthesis: The unique ways you combine experiences and insights
Output: The forms your experience expresses itself through in the world

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The moment an output occurs, it becomes a new input, and the cycle continues so long as we wish to play the game.

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Application:
Become aware of your inputs
Become aware of how you interpret inputs
Become aware of the conclusions you draw
Become aware of the outputs of those conclusions

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Interpretation and conclusion are closely related. In the way I’m using the terms, interpretation precedes conclusion in the same way one interprets the contents of their fridge—perceiving that certain ingredients exist. The decision to make a specific meal is the conclusion. Simply seeing the ingredients is the interpretation. It’s important to note that there is a large amount of input we do not consciously interpret. Think of the last time you had lunch or dinner out. How many people, decisions, and movements were taking place in the restaurant? How many were you paying attention to? How many can you recall?
This connects back to becoming aware of inputs as part of the process. It is not enough to sit on a train and observe people. One step further is becoming aware of what you are observing.

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It Happens Without Thinking & Mental Athletics

Without much effort, these processes happen automatically. You cannot really stop input from coming in—unless you sit in some kind of isolation tank. But in ordinary life, input is constant. Observe the instinct to seek new input. It can be as simple as looking across a room when you hear a noise, glancing up when you’re bored, looking out a window, or picking up your phone again. Scanning a menu. Watching the people around you. Noticing what your friend is eating. Watching one more person on the news. The masterful creative understands that interpretations and conclusions can be deconstructed, disassembled, and erased. Just as we understand that while our home feels like a single, stable object, it is actually composed of many parts—which, if disassembled, would no longer be a house.
A conclusion can become a non-conclusion. An interpretation can become a non-interpretation. Input, however, is less negotiable.

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An athlete must pay attention to how his knee bends. And his elbow. And his wrist. And his neck. And his fingers. He must pay attention to how his body responds to different stimuli—weight, momentum, and how movement changes mechanically under different conditions. In this way, the masterful athlete is hyper-aware of his physical instrument. For a chef, it is ingredients, flavor profiles, temperature, texture, timing, and how combinations register on the palate. For a musician, it is rhythm, harmony, tension and release, silence, repetition, and the emotional associations carried by sound. For an entrepreneur, it is human behavior, incentives, timing, distribution, narrative, and the friction between what people say they want and what they actually do. For an investor, it is probability, risk, asymmetry, time horizons, psychology, and the difference between price and value.

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The Mechanics Are the Same

The mechanics are always the same. The distinction lies in what occurs during those four phases, and the coherence between them. Similarly, a thinker, creative, artist, or entrepreneur—any being who aims to conceive of something—must become hyper-aware of their own thinking, mental processes, instincts, and unconscious movements.

It will be tedious to shoot one thousand free throws while paying attention only to the speed at which your wrist flicks forward. It will be tedious to pay attention to how your mind formulates its next thought, word, or idea. The synthesis of these insights allow the athlete to perform the correct calculation and movement within challenging conditions. The mind is the thinker’s and creative’s core instrument.

And so, if we wish to enhance the capabilities and output of our instrument, it is only natural that we become intimately familiar with the instrument itself.
The obscene challenge is that this instrument cannot be seen with the eyes or sensed through the fingertips, and that it moves at speeds beyond meaningful comprehension.

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Good News & Bad News

The bad news is that there is no way to change output without understanding the instrument that produces it, and that understanding requires sustained attention over time. The good news is that the instrument is already in your hands, and the process is accessible.

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