Ron Howard on Why He Finds Optimism in Storytelling

From comedies like Splash and Parenthood to critically acclaimed dramas like Frost/Nixon and A Beautiful Mind, Ron Howard is one of the most prolific filmmakers of the last fifty years. A Beautiful Mind earned him Oscars for Best Director and Best Picture, and his movie Apollo 13—my personal favorite—was recently selected for the Library of Congress’s National Film Registry.

Howard got his big break in Hollywood as a child actor on the Andy Griffith Show, and in 1985 co-founded Imagine Entertainment with Brian Grazer. With more than six decades of experience in the industry, Howard is a living legend and one of only a few to have not one, but two stars on the Hollywood Walk of Fame.

His latest project is about another Hollywood legend. It’s a documentary about the life and work of puppeteer Jim Henson, creator of The Muppets, called Jim Henson: Idea Man, is out on Disney+ May 31.

I spoke to Ron Howard back in April, and it’s one of my favorite conversations I’ve had on this show. We talked about how he thinks his films reflect the times in which they were made, why so many of his movies don’t have a villain in them, and how to retain a sense of optimism in storytelling.

Tune in every Thursday, and join us as we continue to explore the minds that shape our world. You can listen to the full episode above, and below are a handful of excerpts from our conversation that have been condensed and edited for clarity.

On why he chose to chronicle the life and work of Jim Henson in his latest documentary film:

Those characters mean a lot to us, the Muppet characters. And as a father, his impact on Sesame Street is, to me, significant in the development of generations of kids now. And I admire that. Also, George Lucas always referred to Jim as one of the great geniuses that he ever encountered and worked with–one of the great creative geniuses. So when I had the opportunity to meet with the family and consider it I was certainly intrigued, but I wasn’t sure if there was really a story in there that could surprise audiences. And when I began to read about Jim and go back and look at these amazing archives—not just interviews, but also home movies he made, experimental films, these crazy commercials he made in the 50’s when he was first getting into puppetry—I began to realize how dimensionalized he really was as an artist. How ambitious he was. And that he had this kind of restless creativity that was great for all of us. But it put a lot of pressure on him and he remained a wonderful guy. Everybody loved Jim yet he was never satisfied with himself, and I thought that was interesting. That was surprising. I could relate to it a little bit as a creative person–you’re never quite reaching your highest goals, necessarily. And despite all the success, it didn’t necessarily leave him a fully satisfied person who then died far too young at age 53. So I thought that the realities of his journey and his process was really worth understanding in addition to celebrating all the great characters and stories he created and told.

On discovering his love of directing at a young age:

While my dad never directed film or television, he directed theater. So very early on, when he was doing summer stock and I was like three or four years old, I remember seeing him directing actors and guiding them in scenes and things like that. So I was aware that there was a job called the director. On The Andy Griffith Show, most of the directors had been actors. And by the time I was nine or ten a couple of them, particularly Howard Morris, I remember, said to me, ‘I think you’re gonna be a director. I’m just aware of the way you’re observing everything that’s going on behind the scenes.’ And he was right. I was fascinated by it all. I was learning how to turn the wheels on the camera head so that I could pan a non-reflex camera. I understood what the sound team was doing. I was fascinated by the writing process. And on that show the actors were allowed to hang around and participate in note sessions, and even as a kid they’d let me sit there. And I’d pitch ideas—they didn’t take very many of them, but I would try—and never felt shut out of that. So I didn’t see it as a miserable experience, I saw it as a kind of a team journey. And to this day I try to create that environment on the sets when I’m directing. It means a lot to me and I think it brings out the best in people.

On balancing work and parenthood:

Alan Alda gave me great advice. I had acted in a MASH episode, so I knew Alan Alda and looked up to him. He was also just a great director, and he would fly home from the MASH set east every weekend to be with his family because he didn’t want to relocate them to LA. So I had witnessed this dedication. And I remember being at Henry Winkler’s birthday party right after my daughter Bryce was born, and I was there holding the baby and I was talking to him I said, ‘How do you make room for your family? You know, I’m just launching a production company, I’m just getting my directing underway, and yet now I have my daughter Bryce–any advice?’ And he said, ‘Well, you know what it takes to develop a screenplay into a movie? Well, she’s at least as important as any screenplay. When you’re developing a screenplay it’s kind of an everyday thing, isn’t it? It’s always on your mind, you’re always following up. Just pay attention. Just pay attention.’ Now, I have to say that my wife Cheryl is a hero in all of this, in as much as she was very willing and committed to taking the family on the road. And she was incredibly supportive of what I was doing. She recognized that it was a passion, but she also really wanted to have a close knit family. And she went through an incredible amount of hard work to make that possible. So I did everything that I could do while maintaining the career and she made it possible to find that equilibrium.

Write to Charlotte Alter at charlotte.alter@time.com.