
Summary:
This video dives deep into why so many new movies feel less "real" and immersive than classics, exploring big-picture principles like perceptual realism, indexicality, haptic visuality, and cinematic qualia. Through detailed examples and expert insights, it explains how technical choices, filmmaking philosophy, and sensory experiences shape what we call "cinematic reality." If you've ever wondered why some movies feel tactile and alive while others seem bland or artificial, this guide unpacks the reasons—and how filmmakers can recapture that magic.
The video opens with a side-by-side comparison: a shot from the latest Jurassic World and one from The Lost World. Neither has dinosaurs in the frame—but that's the point. The difference in "realness" isn't just about CGI monsters; it's about the sensation that you could step right into the older movies.
"It's not about CGI. It's about a deeper level of immersion, a deeper feeling of realness and vividness that is so often missing today."
Nostalgia and wanderlust intermingle; the viewer reminisces about how movies like The Lord of the Rings made New Zealand feel accessible and real, while The Hobbit somehow didn't. This isn't just "old man yells at cloud"—the speaker suspects there's something more profound at work than bad special effects or uninspired color grading.
"I always felt like there had to be deeper philosophical and psychological mechanics at play here, like some sort of first principles of cinematic reality and our immersion in it."
The premise is clear: if we want to fix what's missing in modern movies, we need to dig into these fundamental ideas.
A crucial distinction is drawn between a movie feeling real and actually being real. We all know movies are make-believe—yet, some fictional worlds draw us in and sell us their reality:
"Despite recognizing movies as being essentially make-belief, we can still experience them as perceptually real."
Film scholar Stephen Prince explains perceptual realism as the way movies mimic how we interpret real life—including light, color, texture, movement, and sound:
"A perceptually realistic image is one which structurally corresponds to the viewer's audiovisual experience of three-dimensional space…"
In simpler terms: a movie feels real when it uses the same brain processes we use to navigate the real world. Like in Inception, the movie builds a world, brings us in, and we subconsciously add meaning.
Older, more immersive movies often had more in-focus areas and wide shots, letting the viewer scan the frame naturally—much like how we process the world outside the theater.
"[Deep focus, long shot compositions like these] invite the audience to scan the frame for meaning in a way that was more analogous to the way we perceive affairs outside the movie theater…"
This focus on form—not just what's in the frame, but how we engage with it—sidesteps the classic digital-vs-film debate. Even some digital films (The Revenant, A Hidden Life) can look just as rich and immersive as the classics, showing it's not only about the technology.
Real locations, tangible elements, and grounded environments add a soul that's hard to fake with digital effects. But sometimes, a movie like Avatar: The Way of Water—despite being fully computer-generated—still achieves remarkable perceptual realism because of its immersive form and rich visual information.
"What matters is the way this movie cultivates a distinct perceptual relationship with the audience."
On the other end, films like Quantumania demonstrate how shallow depth, blurry backgrounds, and uninspired compositions leave us feeling disconnected, two-dimensional, and visually bored.
Many modern blockbusters rely on shallow depth of field and close-up shots as the default "cinematic" approach, rather than using deep focus and rich environmental context. While this can create a certain kind of stylized realism, overuse makes worlds feel flat and artificial.
"Ever since he became his own cinematographer, it feels like [Zack Snyder's] movies have become virtually two-dimensional…"
And flashy visual effects often undermine even the real elements:
"Does this man diving into a brown CGI sludge obfuscated by digital volumetric smoke in any way trigger any actual perceptual instinct?"
Blaming only the lack of long shots misses the point—the real issue is the lack of intentional filmmaking techniques designed to immerse the viewer. This includes everything from thoughtful camera choices to ensuring environments look and feel real and tangible.
A bigger shift is at play: the move toward fixing everything in post-production. Filmmakers shoot bland, flat scenes to keep their options open, leading to visuals that are safe but uninspired.
"We shoot it bland, we shoot it boring, we light it flat, we don't commit."
Time for a philosophy detour! Indexicality, a concept from Charles Peirce, is about direct, physical connections between things. In classic cinema, the film image is literally an imprint of reality—light from the subject creates the picture. This material connection made film feel more real.
"It's as if there really is a direct, material connection, a true indexicality to the image that just isn't there anymore today."
Digital cameras don't have this; they record data, not physical traces. Some argue this lack of indexicality explains why digital movies can feel less authentic.
But here's the twist: even movies shot on real film now get so heavily processed after filming that their original "indexical" connection is diluted or lost. Meanwhile, many digital movies can still feel real if they're shot and finished with care.
"There is no reason to think that the viewer's experience of a moving image in a fictional film is affected either by the indexicality or non-indexicality of the image, or by her beliefs about the indexicality or non-indexicality of the image." (David Davies)
It's not the tech—it's whether the final image feels physical and authentic.
Here's where things get really interesting. Laura Marks, in her book The Skin of the Film, argues film engages not just our eyes and ears, but our whole body. She introduces haptic visuality, which is about "seeing" with a sense of touch.
"Film is grasped not solely by an intellectual act but by the complex perception of the body as a whole… the eyes themselves function like organs of touch."
Haptic perception is how we "feel" textures, temperatures, and surfaces just by looking—even though we're not literally touching them. This sensation makes scenes feel more vivid and immersive.
"Haptic looking tends to move over the surface of its object rather than to plunge into illusionistic depth, not to distinguish form so much as to discern texture. It is more inclined to move than to focus, more inclined to graze than to gaze."
This isn't just theory—the video demonstrates how deeply detailed, textured, and focused shots make you feel like you're there: grasping grass, feeling wet metal, sensing the force of water, fire, or wind.
Filmmakers use close-ups, grain, and even digital noise to heighten these sensations. Real fire, water, or wind on screen are much more arresting than their digital counterparts.
"The reason why haptic visuality is so effective, and so important for making movies feel more real and vivid, is because touch is simply an extremely powerful human sensation. It is the first sense we develop in the womb."
This dynamic is two-way: when films "reach out" and touch us, we respond, forging a stronger connection.
Beyond physical touch, movies can capture abstract sensations—the "what it's like" of being in a certain place or state. This is the world of cinematic qualia: evoking not just texture but the whole vibe.
"An image can prompt within the body what in philosophy is known as a qualia, as a feeling of 'what-it-is-like.'"
For example, a sweaty, humid bar in Sorcerer feels oppressive and gritty, not just thanks to lighting and close-up shots, but because you can almost smell and feel the heat. By contrast, a similar scene in Jurassic World Rebirth feels sanitized and distant—medium shots, flat lighting, and perfect make-up all create distance.
"Everyone is just way too pretty now, which once again reminds us that, ultimately, all this is about much more than a set of filmmaking techniques, it's about purposefully trying to elicit a feeling, to make a meaningful connection to the audience."
Great cinema goes beyond technique. It combines form, texture, emotion, and memory, inviting viewers to feel rather than just observe, and to be transported into other worlds—real or imagined.
Ultimately, the difference between movies that feel real and those that don't boils down to intentionality—the care and purpose behind every artistic choice, from camera focus to set design to post-production. This same intentionality shapes not just how movies are made, but how we experience and find them.
"The kind of care and intentionality that makes for great and meaningful cinematic experiences doesn't just limit itself to the actual filmmaking itself, it's the structures around it, the platforms where we watch movies, that also help us to navigate, cultivate and celebrate the art of cinema."
Platforms like MUBI are spotlighted as places where viewers can be intentional: discovering hand-picked, meaningful films that rekindle cinematic magic.
What makes movies feel real isn't just fancy technology, real locations, or classic film stock. It's a blend of immersive visual design, intentional use of texture and touch, and a deep desire to make us feel something beyond the screen.
"To be transported, to be moved, to be touched. To feel like we just watched something meaningful, that we just experienced something real."
Next time you watch a movie and feel the difference, remember: it's not just about image quality or special effects, but the invisible craft and philosophy underneath. The magic of cinema lies in its power to connect—not only to our eyes but to our senses, our memories, and our hearts. 🎬✨
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