The Shift You Didn’t Realize Was Happening

0:00 This is Tyler the Creator's recent music video for THAT GUY. It’s rough, unpolished, chaotic—and somehow, it just works. Unlike the sleek, choreographed music videos of the past, it doesn’t try to dazzle with perfection. Instead, it feels raw, unfiltered, like it’s letting you in on something real. And this is Tangerine, a 2015 film by Sean Baker, the director of Anora, last year’s Palme d’Or winner and the film everyone’s still talking about. But let’s focus on Tangerine. Shot entirely on an iPhone 5s, it doesn’t shy away from its rough edges. Instead, it leans into them. The raw, handheld style drops you right into the chaotic lives of

0:47 its characters, making you feel like you’re right there on the streets of Los Angeles. But here’s the thing—Tangerine’s imperfections aren’t random or careless. They feel deliberate, like the roughness is part of its heartbeat. By stripping away the gloss, Baker creates space for something more genuine to emerge. This isn’t the first time cinema has grappled with these ideas. Movements like the French New Wave and Dogme 95 rejected polished norms, but those were deliberate rebellions against industry standards. What we’re seeing now feels different. It’s quieter—less a rebellion and more a natural shift shaped by what we, as viewers, want. So, what’s going on here? Why do works so messy, so raw, feel so resonant today?

1:37 Is it their rejection of perfection? Why does this kind of rawness speak to us now, in this moment? Maybe the answer lies in a broader cultural shift. Let’s take a step back and think about the world we’re surrounded by. Everywhere we look, it feels like we’re surrounded by polished visuals. Cameras now capture resolutions so sharp you can practically count every pore. CGI seamlessly blends fantasy with reality. And let’s be clear—this isn’t about saying that striving for perfection is wrong or that these polished works lack value. Far from it. Some of the most breathtaking and moving experiences in cinema come from the pursuit of technical mastery. But when everything is this polished, doesn’t it start to lose its impact?

2:31 It’s almost as if, in a world full of flawless visuals, perfection no longer feels exceptional. It starts to feel routine—and even, strangely, forgettable. What seems to cut through that noise is something raw, something that feels alive. And it’s not just in cinema or music videos—it’s everywhere. More YouTube creators are skipping flashy edits, simply picking up a camera, and talking unfiltered for 40 minutes. And it works, drawing millions of views as more people connect with authenticity over perfection. Podcasts, too, have grown so much in popularity—maybe because they offer something unscripted and deeply personal. Something that feels more natural compared to the more structured formats of late-night shows. It’s as if we’re drawn to things that feel more real, more relatable. And this shift isn’t just

3:19 coming from creators or filmmakers—it’s coming from us, the audience. We just want something real, something that feels like life: messy, imperfect, and honest. But hang on—haven’t we seen something like this before? Let’s take a quick trip back in time. During the Renaissance, painters got so good at realism, it felt almost magical. Artists like da Vinci and Caravaggio used perspective, light, and shadow to create pieces that went beyond just paintings. They felt like windows into reality—so finely crafted and technically brilliant that they were breathtaking. At the time, painters focused on mastering the techniques of realism. The goal was to perfect the realistic style, with success measured by how precisely they could recreate the

4:08 look of the world. For centuries, this pursuit pushed art to become more detailed and lifelike. But even perfection has its limits. By the 19th century, it felt like art was hitting a ceiling. Where else could it go? Then came photography. The camera changed everything. Suddenly, a photograph could do what painters had spent centuries perfecting—it could capture reality faster and with unmatched precision. For painters, this must have felt like a huge crisis. If a photo could replicate life so perfectly, what was the point of painting anymore? It pushed painters to ask a new question: 'What can painting do that photography can’t?'

4:53 That one question changed everything. Artists like Monet, Degas, and Van Gogh stopped focusing on how the world looked and started painting how it 'felt'. A sunrise wasn’t just light and color—it was the shimmer, the movement, the mood in the air. A busy street wasn’t a perfect snapshot—it was a blur of energy and motion. These were things a photograph just couldn’t capture. This wasn’t about rejecting skill or craft—it was about rethinking what art could be. The Impressionists showed that art doesn’t need to be perfectly refined and realistic to be powerful. Sometimes, it’s the imperfections—the smudges, the rough edges, the fleeting emotions—that stay with us the most.

5:40 Now let’s fast forward to today. Doesn’t it feel like, right now, we’re at a similar turning point? Just like when painters mastered realism and then photography came along to do it faster and more precisely, technology is stepping in again. Today, AI is already capable of generating photorealistic images and seems to be edging closer to creating flawlessly composed shots. It makes you wonder—could there be a future where AI creates movies that are technically perfect, polished in every frame, and visually stunning? But here’s the real question: What happens if machines ever get so good at this that their work looks better—at least technically—than anything we could make ourselves?

6:27 If history tells us anything, it’s that this isn’t the end of creativity. It’s the beginning of a new chapter. Filmmakers may soon face the same question painters did: 'What can we create that AI cannot?' The answer, much like it was for the Impressionists, might lie in focusing on what machines can’t do. AI might nail the look, but it’ll struggle to match the heart. In that sense, AI could do for filmmakers what photography did for painters. It could liberate us, shifting the focus away from chasing technical perfection and toward creating something deeply human. This shift from perfection to raw humanity isn’t just some far-off idea—it’s already happening. Look at Danny Boyle’s upcoming '28 Years Later', reportedly being shot on phones. These choices aren’t about saving

7:16 money—they’re about embracing tools that bring immediacy and authenticity over polish. Just as the Impressionists shifted from realism to emotion, modern films are on their way to moving beyond polished perfection. Because in the end, cinema’s power doesn’t come from making every frame perfect—it comes from making every frame feel alive. The past, the future, and the present—everything flows, and all is connected.