I saw this question on Reddit, “Is filmmaking taught or innate?” I remember sitting with the same question: “Can filmmaking be taught?”, Or is it something you’re just born with? I couldn’t find an answer then, some 10 or 15 years ago. But I’ve found one since—by living the question.
1. The Aftertaste of Engineering
I started in engineering. I actually liked the spirit of engineering—tinkering, tools, logic, building things. But I hated what studying it in college felt like. Endless exams, lab records, backlogs. I got through it somehow, degree in hand, job in place. But I never really arrived.
So when filmmaking found me, I hesitated. Film school looked too much like the world I’d just left—structured, mechanical, graded. I was afraid something alive in me would be flattened again.
So I didn’t go.
2. The Decision to Learn on My Own
Instead, I learned on my own. Books, YouTube videos, online articles, conversations. I made one short film after another. And every time I ran into something I didn’t know, I stopped and learned it. Cinematography, editing, sound design, acting, directing, costume, fashion. I was building the craft piece by piece, the way someone might build a boat without blueprints—just with gut and wood and questions.
It wasn’t easy. But I loved it.
3. The Edge of What I Could Learn Alone
Eventually, I had made ten short films. I’d assisted on two features. And finally, I made my own debut: Munnariv (Foreknowledge)—a crowdfunded Malayalam sci-fi feature shot entirely on an iPhone.
That’s when I hit the biggest wall.
I had learned how to make a film. But I didn’t know how to move it. I didn’t understand distribution, marketing, or how to position a film in the world. It was like building a beautiful machine and having no idea how to turn it on.
So I did what I always did—tried to learn on my own. Business, copywriting, marketing, ads, campaign design. It helped. But it wasn’t enough. And for the first time, I knew I couldn’t move forward alone.
4. Coming Back to School, Differently
That’s when I returned to school. Not for a certificate. Not for validation. Just to learn.
I joined a course in Film Production Management. But this time, I was different. I asked questions, challenged the teachers. For I wanted real-life stories, reading lists, things I could never Google. At one point, the director of the school joked that he was scared to teach our batch—we were relentless.
I had changed. The school hadn’t. But the way I showed up—that changed everything.
5. What I Wish I Knew Back Then
So now, when someone asks me, “Is filmmaking taught or innate” if filmmaking can be taught, I don’t dismiss it. I remember standing there myself.
But what I didn’t understand back then is this: The value of being taught depends on when you seek it.
If you haven’t yet made anything, if you haven’t wrestled with your own blind spots, if you’re still waiting to be told who you are—then film school might just feel like another performance.
But if you’ve already tried, already failed, already learned as much as you could from the world outside—then the same film school might feel like air. Like breath. Like the thing you didn’t know you were waiting for.
6. The Question Isn’t “Can Filmmaking Be Taught”
Maybe the better question isn’t “Is filmmaking taught or innate?”. Maybe it’s:
- “Where are you in the journey?”
- “What are you ready to receive?”
Because the school I once avoided out of fear is the one I later returned to out of hunger. And maybe that’s the point. The timing—not the teaching—makes all the difference.
