Cinema, Self-Education, and the Tools We Forget How to Use
The Debate Room - Issue 02
Welcome back, one and all, to The Debate Room.
As a follow-up to last week’s introductory issue on artificial intelligence—and its growing impact on, and acceptance by, society and culture, for better or worse—I thought we’d pivot slightly to explore AI’s influence at the intersection of cinema and education.
As always, I’ll be speaking primarily from personal experience, weaving in objective evidence where relevant to support my stance. But remember: the floor is always open. That’s exactly what The Debate Room was built for—open dialogue, thoughtful exchange, and fresh perspectives.
To kick things off, I want to start with a quote from a passionate and dynamic writer (among many other things) here on Substack, Ms.
. Her words sparked today’s issue. I won’t be diving into her full essay here, but I’ll link to it below for your reference and convenience.Full disclosure: This essay was initially published as a Note on my Substack feed July 5, at 6:57 AM. I strongly suggested downloading the Substack app so you never miss an article or update.
The reason AI became a “superpower” and not simply an incredibly useful tool is because we are no longer thinking for ourselves or resonating with our own humanity and cinema is the entry point in which we get both these things back. - Taylor Lewis, The State of Cinema, 2025, Luz Films
Cinema, Self-Education, and the Tools We Forget How to Use
Ahh, I couldn’t agree more, Taylor!
There is so much to chew on and meditate over in this essay, but this excerpt, I feel, truly speaks to the heart of an even deeper issue—one that touches the very roots of education itself. And not just formal education. I’m talking about the education that begins well before we step into a classroom and continues long after we’ve left one.
It’s the ongoing battle of—and for—self-education.
Now, let’s be clear. Self-education does not mean going it alone without guidance, mentorship, or even structure. In fact, the best self-directed learners often lean on all three. The real difference lies in how we choose to engage with “tools”—both old and new—and the sources from which we derive knowledge, insight, and creativity.
Speaking from personal experience, I’d venture to say this:
when a community or society is trained en masse to silence its innate creativity and capacity for individual expression, something essential begins to wither.
People start seeking only the most “efficient” paths to success—for the sake of success alone. To “get it over with.” We move from asking questions to simply asking for answers.
In regards to AI and prompt engineering, it’s the difference between:
“Please write a 500-word essay for me on this topic,”
versus…
“Can you lay out a few different methods or techniques I can practice to become a better writer—and more specifically, a stronger essayist? My teachers say I struggle with XYZ, but I don’t fully understand why or how to fix it.”
That’s not a tech issue. It’s an education issue.
If more of us were taught what a tool actually is—“an object that can extend an individual’s ability to modify features of the surrounding environment or help them accomplish a particular task” (thanks, Wikipedia)—we’d understand that the tool is only as powerful as the intent and imagination behind it.
We’d use AI less—so we could do more.
It’s only when we understand how to educate ourselves can we begin to understand how—and when—to use powerful tools like AI.
And again, speaking from personal experience, seeking out, learning, and applying tools is inherently a creative act. It requires curiosity. It requires “wonder” (as Taylor put it). It requires an awareness of both our inner and outer worlds. And that spark, the drive to discover, is being systematically dimmed, even discouraged, by the very systems meant to nurture it.
That’s why I return to cinema, over and over again.
Cinema is more than entertainment. It’s a language, a medium, and yes, a tool—one that can reignite our curiosity, stretch our capacity for empathy, and invite us to think deeply about who we are and what we value. It offers near-limitless possibilities for self-reflection, communication, and community building.
But the real power of cinema, for me, lies in this:
No one can watch for you. No one can decide what the meaning is except you.
Cinema is, by its very nature, an invitation to self-educate.
To notice. To reflect. To choose.
It’s why I started collecting physical media to begin with.
That’s why I believe, and agree, we must continue to cultivate and protect it—not just as an art form, but as a living archive of human experience and potential.
When we lose the will or ability to think for ourselves, we risk outsourcing our entire inner world.
But when we return to tools like cinema, we remember something vital:
We’ve had what we needed all along. We just forgot how to look.
What can we cultivate now to preserve what matters, while making space for what’s next?
📚 Curious how I use AI in my creative, educational, and storytelling work?
🧠 Or want help figuring out what role it could (or shouldn’t) play in your world?
Let’s talk. I’m always open to thoughtful conversation over fear-based declarations.
