There it was—one star. A tiny, intangible little star, that carried so much meaning in everyone's life. It could determine the rise or demise of a business, a dream. Even a life. Generated with Midjourney As a kid, it was about grades, a way to keep track of how much we learned every year. As an adult, it’s about stars, a government’s method to control people’s behavior. We saw it on fictional series, a foreshadowing of what was to come, but no one believed it would be a reality. Fast-forward, it did. So, I learned to lay low, to keep it under the radar… but today? Today went sideways. Hard. You see, one star rating, nothing happens. Two stars... people start noticing. But three stars on your social skills? They send you to the the psychiatrist... And I hate psychiatrists. It was a Karen on steroids. Oh, she was nasty. “Such a disgusting looking creature… Just disgusting”, she sneered while chewing a bright pink gum that matched her painted cheeks. “Pardon me?”, I blurted, concealing it back in my pocket. “D-E-S-gus-tin’. Don’t ya understand tha word? What is it anyways? Some sort of deformed baby or somethin’?” Offended, I stood up. Not to fight, but to tower. Height was all I had. She, on the other hand, was short. Short, but sharp. “What? Ya’ think ya scary? Tall and all? Uh-huh, not to me. So disgusting”. She proceeded to blow a bubble of gum so big, it almost covered her entire face. POP! I was torn. My eyelid flinched. Should I storm out of the bus at the next stop? Correct her spelling of "disgusting"? Or find a strong yet politically correct way to put her in her place? As I was still thinking on the best way to address the situation, the bus came to an abrupt halt, causing her to lose her balance. She fell, front first, onto my dry, skeletal elbow. As a result, she choked on her gum and spat it onto the hair of an elderly woman sitting in front of us. Hesitant, the lady reached out for her pearly curls. Her fingers found it with ease: a pink mass tangled in silver strings. Her eyes widened. Her neck twisted far. Too far. Farther than it should... and looked at us. I was like a fish out of the water. Confused and aghast. Sneaky Karen, again, was very quick: “Not me! Uh-huh. He the one guilty here, hitting me and all with his spiky dead ass elbows, making me almost choke to death, ya know?" The gum-afflicted woman took her phone, scanned me and Karen, and gave us one star each. Infuriated, Karen also took her phone and did the same, giving me a second star with a comment as a side “rude and desgustin’” . I was discombobulated. The third and last one, was a gift from Karen’s supportive friend. They all went off the bus on the next stop. I? Well, I had to go to the psychiatrist the very next day. “What was the creature?” “What do you mean?” “The creature she said was disgusting”, the psychiatrist inquired, sitting across the table with a pen in hand, as he peered at me over his glasses with a slight tilt of his head. “Oh, well...”, I hesitated at first, but decided to come clean, "here she is”. I took her out of my trench coat and showed her to him. He was, to say the least, astonished. In my hands was a curled little hairless cat. “Should be extinct”, I specified and added, “Found her yesterday near a dumpsite. Couldn’t bring myself to leave her there. All cold and wet. So, I decided to take her home and that's when I met this girl on the bus and then...”, I leaned back on my chair and muttered, "well, you know the rest...”. The cat purred in my huge hands, almost camouflaging itself in them. “Is it… is it a dog?” The mind-expert took a closer look. “A cat” “Does it eat?” “Of course! Like us, they need food, warm and love” “But it’s forbidden. You know that, right?” “Yes” “So, why show it to me?” “You seemed like a reasonable person” The cat meowed as I put her on the doctor's desk, where she sniffed, purred and played with a pen. She was a curious little creature. He was amused and somewhat fascinated. We were not used to seeing these animals around nowadays. After the “Great Pet Crisis” - now known as “GPC” -, it was determined that humans could not have domesticated animals anymore. There were far too many irresponsible owners who abandoned them, an abundance of unscrupulous pet shops that sold them carelessly, and countless animals roaming the streets. Many ended up in veterinary clinics with deformed bodies resulting from centuries of selfish breeding. Animal shelters were overflowing, and the list of issues seemed endless. All it took was one country to make a stand. It did not take long before the rest followed suit. However, what began with good intentions led to a terrible fate for dogs, cats, tortoises, ferrets, bunnies, and even lizards: they were eradicated. Why? Well, not long after the prohibition, a war on illegal pet trafficking began. The government's solution was simple: if pets no longer existed, humans couldn't possess them, and illegal trafficking would end. Thus, the "GPC Enforcement Act" was implemented. It was a massacre. Over time, we replaced them with robots, which we grew accustomed to. They were easier to care for—no pee to clean up, no hairy clothes or chewed shoes, and best of all: no more vet bills. But there was no love, either. This all happened a century ago. I was born into a petless world. But there's a rumor that this ordeal left people despondent. It changed us. The roots of our partnership with animals were so deep, that the barbaric act had an unprecedented effect on humanity. We became lonely. Very lonely. “Can… can I touch it?”, asked my appointed psychiatrist. I nodded. He rubbed his hands together and then extended his elongated, slightly bent finger due to arthritis, towards the little creature. But she was a sneaky one. Until, at last, contact was made. He was conquered. As was I. How could Karen not be? I left the psychiatrist’s office with a cat in my pocket and a year's worth of appointments scheduled. “The patient needs a weekly session for a year – at least – to make sure he does not do anything borderline, in order to avoid any one-star behavior”, the doctor’s notice read. It was a deal: I could keep the cat and my psychiatrist could see her once a week. We became friends, real friends the three of us. The kind of friends that, like pets, were rare, if not non-existent. The kind of friends that kept a secret for almost 17 years. In the end, they were not so bad after all, these psychiatrists. Alex Iwanoff

Imagine two identical balls rolling toward each other. In silence, most viewers think they simply pass through. But add a brief collision‑like click , and suddenly they seem to bounce off each other instead. This is the optical trick called the cross-bounce illusion. Batman: The Dark Knight – Master Race | ©DC Comics This effect was explored in a study  published in Scientific Reports , which showed that even imagined collision sounds can shift perception: participants who heard  a collision noise were significantly more likely to see  a bounce than those who didn’t. This reveals something simple, but powerful: the brain fuses sight and sound . We don’t process visual and auditory information in isolation. On the contrary, we integrate them to build our version of reality. In ambiguous visual scenarios, sound steers what we think we see. And it’s not just in science labs. This idea shows up everywhere, even in written format, like comic books or scripts. Think about it: KABOOM! CRACK! POOM!  You don’t actually hear them, but your brain does something with those cues. It helps make the action feel more immediate, more real. Snippet from The Substanc e script And this is a fact one must not overlook when doing a film. Yes, music  sets the tone and emotion of a scene. But when it comes to grounding the action itself—especially when the action isn’t real—sound design does the heavy lifting. It tells us what’s hard, what’s heavy, what’s moving fast or slow. And that’s where visual effects meet their invisible partner: sound design . Because when it’s done right, synchronization anchors believability.  VFX WITHOUT SOUND IS HALF THE STORY Visual effects without the right sound? They just don’t land. They feel hollow. Fake. Think of a volcano  erupting: the roar, ground-rumbling bass, debris crackling—without these, the scene falls flat, unbelievable. A brawl without the hitting sounds? You might as well be watching rehearsal footage (and even those have enhanced sounds!). “Sound design immerses you in the film’s world and stirs your emotion”, Filmustage Ben Burtt recording sounds for Star Wars This is already true for every genre (I mean, what is horror  without the wet, bone-crunching sound effects?), but it becomes absolutely critical when what you’re seeing on screen doesn’t exist at all . Take the iconic sounds of Star Wars. Like the VZOOM VZOOM  (yes, you heard it!) of the lightsabers or the PEWW PEWW  of the laser guns. These were created by sound designer Ben Burtt, who faced the challenge of bringing an entire galaxy to life through sound alone. To give you an example, the shriek of the TIE fighters drew inspiration from WWII German dive bombers. The Ju‑87 Stuka were equipped with mechanical sirens called Jericho Trumpets . These weren’t tactical. Au contraire, they were installed purely for psychological impact, for terror. They announced the incoming chaos. To create the same unease, Ben Burtt blended elephant calls with wet pavement tire noise, and added a Doppler effect to sell the motion. And voilà, a designed fear, echoing real-world trauma from a galaxy not so far away. “Sound is what truly convinces the mind is in a place; in other words, ‘hearing is believing’”, Jesse Schell, Video game designer and CEO of Schell Games. So, again, when audio falls short, everything falls apart. The LA Film School  warns that sloppy audio can “ruin otherwise spectacular production”. No matter how gorgeous the simulation  is or how scary your monster looks, if the audio isn’t there, credibility crumbles. This is also the reason why you can sometimes save  a mediocre effect with strong sound, or even skip the effect altogether and just suggest it with audio. Yes, you don’t always need to show it, just let your audience hear it. “Sound is much more violent than images. There’s something physical, immediate about it—almost hand-to-hand. To make someone hear a sound is an act of intent”, Daniel Deshays, sound engineer and sound director. AI‑DRIVEN SOUND DESIGN Now, with generative AI, things are evolving fast. We’re starting to see tools that generate audio and visuals together , in sync from the start. Batman: the killing joke, vol 4 | ©DC Comics Academic work like Oxford’s “ Audio‑Visual Synchronisation in the Wild ” is feeding directly into new tools that prioritize perfect sync in real-world footage. Platforms like AutoFoley  use deep learning to generate synchronized Foley for silent footage. Even ElevenLabs  is exploring AI-generated sound effects (which are actually fun to play with). And platforms like Veo 3  and other beta-stage tools promise end-to-end pipelines: you create visuals with their matching audio. But that raises a question: just because we can generate sound, are we doing it right? And also, in the case of VFX, can AI generate a sound that does not exist? “Sound design is not about creating noise that simply mirrors what’s in the images, but about assigning value to certain elements within the visuals”, Daniel Deshays, sound engineer and sound director. While AI can mimic, good sound design is still about intention. In a seminar called “The mise-en-scène of sound design”,  Deshays points out that audio is about gesture . How far, how fast, how forcefully a sound evolves. Because in the end, “sound isn’t reality, it’s a way of listening. It’s an interpretation of the world”, as he put it himself. So, use the AI-tools, but use them wisely. Play with it. Mix it and remix it. In conclusion, yes, you see with your eyes. But you believe with your ears. Sound guides the imagination, fills in the blanks and makes the digital feel physical. It shapes expectations, sells impact and builds immersion. That’s why sound is the invisible glue that makes the illusion stick. Don’t do VFX, without having a budget for the sound design. It’s the liant  in a chef's dish. The mortar between the bricks. Without it, your effects might taste, look and feel bland.

Have you ever been to a symphonic concert featuring the greatest hits of John Williams? If not, we highly recommend it, especially if you ever get the rare chance to see the maestro himself conduct. It’s spine-tingling. Exciting. Different from any other concert, as it carries an additional emotional baggage with it. You’re instantly transported through time and space. And if you grew up with his films, you’ll feel that same childhood wonder and excitement rush back into your veins. Image from Music by John Williams | ©Disne y Now, that same experience is expanding. On November 8, 2025, Los Angeles will host Future Ruins , a new festival dedicated entirely to film and television music. The one-day event was created by Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross, longtime collaborators known for their work in Nine Inch Nails  as well as scores for films like The Social Network , Gone Girl , and The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo . The goal? To bring together a diverse group of composers (from cult icons to Emmy and Oscar winners) and present their work in a rare live setting, as explained in the festival’s website : “Each artist is encouraged to take big swings and reimagine their work for a live audience. Ranging from electronic sets and live bands to orchestral performances, fans have the chance to experience live debuts from composers who rarely appear onstage” WHY IS IT IMPORTANT? A soundtrack is as essential to a movie as popcorn is to the moviegoing experience. It’s cultural. Timeless. And also invisible. It’s the emotional architecture beneath every scene, shaping how we feel even when we’re not fully aware of it. As the saying goes in the industry: you can save a mediocre film with the right music .  “The greatest way to demonstrate how much music affects movies, play it absolutely with no music at all. And then go back, and do the whole scene again, with all the cues”, Steven Spielberg on Music by John Williams documentary. Yes, scores guide us through suspense, triumph, grief, and revelation. In some cases, the music becomes as iconic as the movie itself. Think of the James Bond  theme: big brass, bold rhythm, instantly recognizable. You simply can’t make a Bond film without it. (By the way, if that interests you, check out The Sound of 007 ,  a deep dive into how the music was composed and shaped the Bond legacy). In recent years, the boundary between traditional composers and popular musicians has blurred. Artists like Trent Reznor, Tyler Bates  (Marilyn Manson’s longtime guitarist and composer of 300, the John Wick  series and the Pearl saga), and Geoff Barrow  (Portishead’s multi-instrumentalist and co-composer of Ex Machina  and Annihilation ) have gained recognition in both the industries. But for fans, the experience of these scores remains mostly passive, consumed through headphones or embedded within a film. Rarely do we get the chance to hear them live, interpreted by the artists who created them. Future Ruins  changes that. For the first time, many of these composers will step out of the studio and onto the stage. FROM MOVIE THEATERS TO FESTIVALS This shift isn’t coming out of nowhere. For years, fans have flocked to symphonic concert tours dedicated to legendary composers like John Williams , whose music from Star Wars , Jurassic Park  and Harry Potter  has been performed live by orchestras around the world. Hans Zimmer , perhaps the most high-profile film composer working today, has sold out arenas with his immersive live shows, blending cinematic scores with rock-star stage production. Still, most of these concerts seem to focus on orchestral works, aka “the new classical”. But what about other composers working outside that mold? What about Cristobal Tapia de Veer , whose strange, layered and deeply satisfying score for The White Lotus  helped define the show’s tone? Or John Carpenter , who composed his own minimalist electronic soundtracks for films like The Thing and Halloween ? "Going from Hollywood studios to Boston (Pops) was very, very satisfying [...]. There's an orchestra, there's an audience. The music is brought to life. People applaud. And for the wounded ego of a Hollywood composer who never has an audience to get some applause, it's lovely", John Williams Future Ruins is here for that. It’s a platform that invites composers of all kinds onto the same stage, with a lineup that reads like a who’s who of modern screen music like: Danny Elfman (Beetlejuice, Batman...) , Hildur Guðnadóttir ( Joker, Chernobyl, Sicario...), Claudio Simonetti’s Goblin   (Suspiria, Dawn of the dead...) and Terence Blanchard (Cadillac Records, Inside Man, etc.),  to mention a few. The event also features a rare performance of Howard Shore’s score for Crash of David Cronenberg. Shore, for the record, is the legendary composer behind Lord of the Rings , The Fly and many of Cronenberg’s films. “There’s no hierarchy. Every artist is a headliner”, Trent Reznor. Even if most of us won’t make it to Future Ruins  this year, the festival represents something larger: a growing recognition that film scoring deserves the spotlight and the stage . Hopefully, it’s the beginning of a broader movement, one where composers step into the spotlight, and fans finally get to hear the music that made them cry, scream, or cheer... all while replaying the movie in their minds.

Molten rock. Ultra hot. Bright orange. Volcano (1995) | ©Tw entieth Century Fox Lava is not an easy element to film or recreate—even with CG. That’s why filmmakers have had to be resourceful and use every trick in the book to depict how lava looks, moves, and destroys. Here's how three very different films tackled one of cinema’s most explosive challenges. VOLCANO (1997) In Mick Jackson’s Volcano , lava erupts from the La Brea Tar Pits and turns Los Angeles into a disaster zone.  But as the director put it, “you can’t send out for a truckload of lava”. So, the team built a “lava kitchen”, where they brewed their own. What you see on screen is made from thickened methylcellulose (a food additive), dyed orange, lit with UV lights and filmed over miniature sets mounted on gimbals to control the flow. The result was a convincing molten effect, composited with live-action plates and digitally enhanced to look hotter and more dangerous.  “Once you’ve established the data of the plate that the lava is to be composited into, we scale everything down to 1/8 version of what it was, and we built shapes of clear plastic to put in place where there are objects in the frame, and it gives a very realistic look as [the lava] is deflected and bent around these shapes”, David Drzewiecki, Miniature FX supervisor DP Given the complexity of the destruction sequences—which included fast-moving lava, balls of lava, ash, flames and explosions—the team went through an extensive research phase, combining practical experimentation with CG simulations to get the several layers of natural phenomena and destruction just right. This included creating a massive set and using 20.000 gallons of propane and hundreds of pounds of black powder. “In its most basic form, compositing is taking two layers and integrating them into a finished one. A pretty typical shot in Volcano for us has been using 20 or 30 layers to generate a finished shot”, Greg Strause, Digital Artist, Light Matters, Inc. STAR WARS: REVENGE OF THE SITH (2005) We cannot talk about lava in movies without mentioning the fiery duel between Anakin and Obi-Wan on the volcanic planet Mustafar. And naturally, it had to be a spectacle. “The big challenge in Mustafar is lava. And there’s lots of it—and lots of different scales”, John Knoll, VFX supervisor at ILM. Last fight | © Lucasfilm Ltd. & TM To pull it off, the team used everything in their arsenal: matte paintings of digital environments, CG simulations, real footage from a Mount Etna eruption happening during production, motion-control cameras, large-scale miniatures... you name it. Part of the Mustafar landscape was built as a physical model, tilted 10 degrees to allow controlled lava flow across its surface. That lava? Once again, methylcellulose—the same food additive used in Volcano —was dyed but, this time, it was lit from underneath to simulate the glowing magma. The crust was created using ground cork. “Digital technology has completely revolutionized the visual effects industry. But sometimes, nothing beats the old-fashioned use of models and miniatures. And we don’t always look to the future, we often look back”, Rick McCallum, producer. What you can’t overlook in a sequence like Mustafar is the sound . You simply can’t talk about visual effects without it. It’s essential to selling the illusion. To create the bubbling, erupting feel of the lava flowing, bursting and hissing, sound designer Ben Burtt blended artillery mortar blasts with recordings of liquid textures to capture the explosive, fluid energy of molten rock. “You blend the two together, and have a new effect”, he explained in Star Wars: Within a Minute – The Making of Episode III . FIRST DEPICTIONS OF LAVA IN MOVIES The Last Days of Pompeii  (1935) appears to be the first film to attempt a realistic depiction of lava on screen. You have to wait until the climax for Mount Vesuvius to finally erupt, but when it does, the destruction is full of fire, collapsing sets and... some shots here and there of flowy lava. This was decades before CGI, so everything had to be done practically (no computers, all real, in camera... you know , like today’s Oppenheimer or Romulus , cough cough ). Willis O'Brien seen here on the miniatures stage shooting the lava flow scenes | source Matte shot Blog Under the supervision of special effects pioneer Willis O'Brien (who had just revolutionized stop-motion in King Kong, 1933 ), the team used miniatures, matte paintings on glass, and early compositing techniques like split screens and a primitive version of blue screen. As for how they created the lava itself—well, that's less clear. No confirmed records seem to exist. But for One Million Years B.C.  (1966), it’s documented that they used a mix of wallpaper paste, oatmeal, dry ice and red dye, according to Kinorium . In the 1935 version... well, it was in black and white. So the glowing orange was one less problem to worry about.

A digital simulation is what happens when you try to make natural elements behave on cue, in rhythm, under direction. You guide it. Shape it. So that fluid becomes a bottle of wine. So that a specific wave hits a ship at exactly the right moment. 2 012 Los Angeles destruction sim | ©Columbia Pictures It’s the art of introducing controlled chaos into a scene. Technically speaking, it's the process of using software to recreate physical phenomena by defining rules based on real-world physics, instead of animating it frame by frame. Fire, smoke, fluids, cloth, hair, destruction — these are the type of elements that are more often than not simulated because animating them manually would be painfully slow, and nearly impossible to make look real. And the beauty of it is that you can art direct the motion. Give it purpose. Make it serve the narrative, the emotion, the frame. Think of how every superhero cape feels perfectly timed. That’s thanks to CGI . Simulated and sculpted. But simulation wasn't always possible. It all started at the end of the 1900... A BIT OF HISTORY Recently, the Season 2 of Light & Magic in Disney+ was released. The docuseries traces how ILM was built around a simple idea: use technology to help artists do things no one had done before. To push the boundaries of digital effects, at a time when they were still at their embryonic stage. To do so, George Lucas brought together a team from every corner of creativity and engineering. Artists, animators, sculptors, coders, engineers, tinkerers. People who could imagine the impossible and others who could code the programs to make it real. Among them is Habib Zargarpour, known as ‘the particle guy’. “Particles have a mind of their own. When you simulate, you have millions of them and you have to just give them general guidelines. You can have forces of attraction, forces that repel or have them collide with things. But you can’t say this particle’s going to do this thing”, Habib Zargarpour, ILM CG Supervisor. His early work included The Mask (1994), where he had to add a green gas effect whenever a character took off the mask. But the real test came when Spielberg asked: “Can you do a tornado?”. It was for the movie Twister  (1996).  They tested the VFX, before even having the script | ©ILM That work unlocked something new: water simulation. Enter: The Perfect Storm  (2000). A massive challenge. They needed an ocean that could be directed . Which meant it had to be CG. But, as Masi Oka, ILM digital effects artist, said: "human skin and water are the hardest to do with CG". And it was. The sheer scale of it, pushed both the technology and the artists to the edge. To complete the shots, they used digital layering : rendering multiple simulations separately (waves, ships, foam, splashes) and combining them into the final shot. As explained in the docuseries, it took 90 days of render time to produce one second of final simulation. “We were creating revolutionary new technology, just so we could digitally drown George Clooney”, Masi Oka, ILM digital effects artist. Since then, the technology hasn’t stopped evolving, giving artists more control over simulations with every passing year. CONTROLLED CHAOS Particle simulation is therefore a process that requires a different mindset than traditional animation. And this is important for filmmakers to keep in mind when working with VFX teams. “Because tiny variations [...] never repeat and vastly affect the outcome”, Ian Malcolm, Jurassic Parc, 1993. As Zargarpour previously noted, the artist defines the forces, materials and constraints, but the final result emerges from the physics itself. That’s because simulations rely on a web of interconnected variables, where a single change can ripple through the entire system. However, today’s tools allow for more control. You can assign a seed to make a sim repeatable, or isolate and modify a section depending on the software. Even so, a minor tweak can still mean days of rework. Because, at its core, a simulation is still what the name suggests. You’re influencing a system with millions of particles moving in interdependence. In a way, you’re playing God. It's about experimentation. About learning how to nudge the system toward the result you want. And often, there’s more than one path to get there. And that’s the beauty of it: the unpredictability. The organic, semi-random quality that makes it feel alive. The magic happens when you finally achieve the look you aimed for or, better yet, when something unexpected turns out even stronger. To have more control over the frames, many productions turn to hybrid approaches : blending simulations with hand animation. This is the case of Davy Jones’ beard in Pirates of the Caribbean. Of the 40+ tentacles, only eight were hand-animated, meaning they could be precisely controlled. The rest were simulated, giving the beard its unsettling, sticky organic motion. A similar technique was done in The Last of Us  (2023), where the cordyceps fungus erupting from infected mouths were part simulation, part animation . The sim brought realism and chaos. The animation brought timing and control, as explained by Espen Nordahl, VFX Supervisor at Storm Studios . In the end, simulation is what happens when you take something wild (water, fire, cloth, debris) and make it perform. You control it. Art direct it. Which can be as gratifying as it is nerve-wracking. Because let’s be honest: sometimes those particles? They act like they have a mind of their own (again, as the particle guy said himself). Test of a giant walking through a fire sim |  ©Orbitae So, what is a sim? It’s the art of introducing controlled chaos into a scene. Not a plugin. Not a shortcut. It’s physics, turned into performance. Artists tweak parameters, shape forces, and build containers for that chaos — until the result feels juuuuuust right.

“Absolutely!”, I used to say. But that’s changed. Gremlins movie theater scene | ©Warner Bros. I used to love going to the movies—the smell of popcorn, the big screen, the sound vibrations running through the comfy chairs. But now? I don’t go as often as before. Either it’s because of the price of the tickets or, honestly, there just aren’t that many movies that make me think, “ This  one. This needs to be seen on the biggest screen possible”. Or, maybe, it’s because the few times I went, it was almost an empty room. Either way, the excitement seems to have faded. That is… until I went to the biggest movie hall ever at the Sitges Fantastic Film Festival last year. With a capacity of 1380 spectators, it was something else. And the first movie I saw there? The European premiere of Terrifier 3 , at midnight. It was packed. Masks of Art the Clown were distributed at the entrance. People were laughing, clapping and screaming at the movie. When it ended, we had to wait for a good ten minutes just to get to the exit – the line was that big. And that’s when it hit me. That’s when I remembered why  I’d used to go once a week. After all, we still go to concerts even though we have Spotify. We still go to the opera. Why did we stop doing that with cinema? THE ANCIENT RITUAL OF STORYTELLING Have you ever wondered why we go to the movies? Why we watch them? Well, for millennia, humans have gathered around fires, sharing tales of heroism, tragedy and everything in between. These were vital for transmitting knowledge, solidifying communal bonds and understanding the world around us. In other words, storytelling is connection. And cinema, at its core, is simply the latest iteration of this ancient ritual. We’ve moved from the campfire to the silver screen, but the fundamental need for shared narrative experience remains. “People naturally seek closure and meaning in life– sometimes a film can provide this if ‘real life’ cannot”, Jeff Kitchen, in his book Writing a good movie . THE NEUROSCIENCE BEHIND IT When we engage with a good story, our brains respond as if we are living  it. Mirror neurons fire, allowing us to empathize with characters and experience their emotions. Dopamine is released, creating a sense of pleasure and anticipation. Our hearts race during tense scenes, and we might even shed a tear during moments of heartbreak. Toy Story 3 | © Disney Think of when Woody, Buzz and the team held hands as they faced incineration in Toy Story 3 . Or the shock of a twist like “What’s in the box?”. Or when Jack slowly sank into the depths of the ocean. But when we experience a film collectively, the emotions hit harder. In 2020, a study  published in Frontiers in Human Neuroscience  explores how watching movies activates complex patterns of brain activity. This phenomenon, known as neurocinematics , reveals that films are structured to guide viewers’ attention and emotional responses in synchronized ways. In communal settings like a movie theater, this synchronization is intensified —viewers not only engage with the narrative but also with each other on a neurological level, creating a uniquely shared emotional and cognitive experience that streaming alone at home can’t replicate. ​It’s called the "inter-subject correlation" (ISC), referring to the synchronization of neural activity across different individuals when watching the same film, according to the Mirage News . It’s like emotional contagion, where individuals subconsciously mimic and synchronize with the emotions of those around them, making us feel more connected. BOX OFFICE AND VIEWING HABITS However, this experience is facing a challenge. While cinema isn't dying, it is undeniably changing. Recent data from the European Audiovisual Observatory  shows a complex picture. Admissions in certain European markets remain relatively stable, but overall attendance hasn’t fully recovered to pre-pandemic levels. And a recent Deloitte study highlights a significant shift in consumer habits. Streaming services now account for a substantial portion of entertainment spending, with many consumers prioritizing convenience and cost-effectiveness over the theatrical experience. There’s also the fragmentation of viewing habits. We’re not really curating our entertainment anymore, but passively consuming it. Letting the algorithm decide. Movies play while we scroll through social media, check emails and half-listen when we’re at home. And younger generations? According to Deloitte, they prefer creator-driven content over traditional films and series. And Millie Bobby Brown is proof of that, as she told The Sun she does not like to sit for a certain period of time to watch a movie. “Think about the war for people’s attention and time that exists today, between traditional media and social media”, China Widener, vice chair of Deloitte in  The Hollywood Reporter . THE RISE OF THE HOME CINEMA Electric States | ©Netflix The convenience of streaming is undeniable. A few clicks, and you’ve got access to thousands of titles, all from the comfort of your couch. But this convenience comes at a cost. Something important is shifting: how movies are made. They’re becoming content , built for the algorithm . Designed to check certain boxes. Framed to look good on your phone, your tablet, your TV. Less detail. Everything's centered. And yeah, it’s comfy. But more often than not, it just fades into background noise. This also means that there are so many meh shows, series, and movies now that we end up endlessly scrolling through Netflix or whatever platform, never really choosing anything new. We go back to that one comfort movie we’ve seen a dozen times. It's safe. It’s easy. So, in the end, maybe we just need to remember what it feels like to sit in the dark with strangers, all reacting to the same story. And, well… I’ll try to go to the movies more often. Are you?

On the second day of the NIFFF Extended program, the focus pivoted from VFX— showcased with "The Last of Us" and "3 Body Problem" —to practical SFX miniature making with Simon Weisse and it was fascinating! Simon Weisse and his miniatures (image from the NIFFF) So, first, who is Simon Weisse ? He's a master of making miniature for cinema and movies, best known for his work with Wes Anderson, including "The Grand Budapest Hotel", the Roald Dahl shorts and "Asteroid City". Through time, Weisse has carved a unique niche in the industry. He began his career in the late 80s, working for movies like Event Horizon and V for Vendetta, to mention a few. But with the advent of CGI. Things changed. Lewis & Clark spaceship from Event Horizon at Lyon's museum of Miniature. “Twenty years ago, I thought my career was over, that’s why I started making props. But since 'The Grand Budapest Hotel', I’ve never had more work!”, he told. This resurgence doesn't mean he's abandoned prop work. In his studio, for "Asteroid City", the team handled both miniatures and functional props. They created meteorites in various sizes, as well as jetpacks and guns. Among the miniatures was the UFO ingeniously assembled from everyday kitchen utensils, and the train—a particularly memorable challenge since the model arrived in pieces from the States. "I was hoping it would be like assembling something from Ikea. With a manual! It was far from it, and we had to creatively find a way to piece it together!" he recalls with a laugh. Now, let's clarify something about miniatures for cinema: these aren’t your average models you can build in your living room. Cinematic “miniatures” can be larger than a car! For instance, he was asked to create a 50-meter-long road for “The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar”. It was so massive that he couldn’t find a place large enough to film it and had to use a greenhouse in Berlin. By the way, for those interested in seeing these works up close, the Museum of Cinema & Miniature in Lyon, France, houses many of his creations, including a forced perspective set from the short film "The Swan", directed by Anderson and Event Horizon's ship. Unfortunately, miniature making remains a labor-intensive and resource-heavy process, often requiring strong support from directors and producers. "For this kind of project to be feasible, it needs the full backing of the director and sometimes even the producer. Without their support, it simply won't happen," explains Weisse. This is where filmmakers like Wes Anderson make a significant difference. For "The Grand Budapest Hotel", the director's enthusiasm for mini-effects led Weisse and his team to spend about two months in preparation and another three to four months building the maquettes—all for just a few days of shooting. When asked about the skill set needed to be a miniature maker for movies , Weisse emphasized the meticulous nature of the work, which demands patience, passion, and a diverse skill set. His team in Berlin includes architects, carpenters, painters, and more, showcasing the range of talents required. “You must not be afraid of getting your hands dirty”, Weisse advises, adding, “the 3D guy is also able to cut wood, you know?” Finally, Weisse also addressed the ongoing debate between practical and digital effects, dismissing it as nonsensical. Often faced with "purists" who insist on one method over the other, Weisse, an enthusiast for new technologies, advocates for a synthesis of traditional and modern techniques. “Combining these old techniques with new ones is truly an asset,” he stated.

In a move that's been decades in the making, the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences has officially announced the creation of a new competitive Oscar category: Achievement in Stunt Design . The award will debut at the 100th Academy Awards in 2028, recognizing work from films released in 2027 — a milestone that industry professionals have been demanding for years. THE HIDDEN ARCHITECTS OF ACTION Stunt performers have been part of cinema since the silent era. Think Charlie Chaplin doing his own pratfalls, Buster Keaton dodging falling buildings, or Yakima Canutt inventing the art of the moving horse-to-wagon transfer for John Ford. They were there from the beginning — but mostly in the shadows. While stars collected awards and audiences held their breath, the people throwing themselves off buildings, getting hit by cars, or set on fire were rarely acknowledged. And that invisibility? It was by design. Not out of malice, but out of necessity. After all, cinema is an illusion. And a great stunt is meant to serve the story (yes, even the fights mean something) and to give our heroes and villains amazing abilities. All without drawing attention to the risk involved. “It’s the contract we sign up for: we’re not supposed to be seen”, David Leitch, director and stuntman, LA Times For generations, stunt performers have perfected the art of disappearing into  the action, embodying characters and executing dangerous feats. They are meticulous planners, skilled athletes and dedicated artists, often overlooked in the celebration of filmmaking. And even sometimes absent from the credits. Literally. Being erased from film credits was a common practice, especially when studios wanted to maintain the illusion that actors did their own stunts. That’s why it was news when, in season three, The Mandalorian  correctly credited the men  (not man ) behind the mask. Mando was a character built by three different bodies and one voice. And yet, most viewers have no idea. That’s how good the illusion is. From left to right:   Pedro Pascal  – the voice and image of Mando;   Brendan Wayne  – the gunslinger ;   Lateef Crowder  – the martial artist/sword master | Image from ScreenRant This lack of recognition has created a frustrating paradox: the very people responsible for some of cinema’s most breathtaking moments have been denied the industry’s highest honor. THE TAURUS AWARDS: STUNT WORK’S UNDERGROUND OSCARS Until now, the most prestigious recognition for stunt professionals has been the Taurus World Stunt Awards . Launched in 2001, the event was created by Red Bull founder Dietrich Mateschitz. It honors categories like 'Best Fight', 'Best High Work' and 'Hardest Hit', but remains largely outside the mainstream eye. The 2025 Taurus Awards are set for May 10. A SEAT AT THE TABLE – FINALLY The Academy’s announcement on April 10, 2025, confirmed that a new Oscar will be introduced for Stunt Design  at the 2028 ceremony. Unlike past honorary awards or brief mentions during montages, this will be a fully-fledged, voted category. “We are proud to honor the innovative work of these technical and creative artists, and we congratulate them for their commitment and dedication in reaching this momentous occasion”, Academy CEO Bill Kramer and Academy President Janet Yang But what exactly does “stunt design” mean? According to John Wick  director and longtime stunt professional Chad Stahelski , calling the category "Stunt design" was a smart compromise. It acknowledges how collaborative stunt work truly is. As he explains in an interview with Vulture , bringing a stunt to life on screen involves far more than just a single performer. You have choreographers, stunt doubles, camera operators, riggers, safety coordinators, rehearsal teams, VFX artists, editors — and more, depending on the complexity of the scene. It’s all of these departments working in sync. A team. BTS of John Wick: Chapter 3 – Parabellum | Image from Film Independent “I have a team of ten guys that helps me choreograph. I have three other fight choreographers that are coming from Japan, China, France. I have two stunt-riggers that design how I do the wild gags. My idea is the gag. Their idea is how to do it safely. Camera guys shoot it. My editor helps me edit it. VFX helped me erase the wires. That’s pretty fucking collaborative”, Stahelski on John Wick. Though the rules for eligibility will be announced in 2027, the new Oscar is expected to be awarded to a team recognizing the collaborative nature of the craft. A BIT OF HISTORY: THE IRONY AND THE DEBATE The fight for recognition isn’t new. In 1967, legendary stuntman Yakima Canutt received an honorary Oscar for his groundbreaking work in stunt safety and rigging. Hal Needham  — a stunt coordinator and performer on more than 30 films from the 1950s through the ’70s — was honored with a similar award at the 2013 Governors Awards, as reported by The Hollywood Reporter.   Action Heroes Owe Everything to Stunt Pioneer Yakima Canutt | WIRED Nearly fifty years later, Jackie Chan  was also given an Honorary Award for his “lifetime achievement” in 2016 — a nod for redefining action cinema with death-defying choreography. But these were exceptions. For years, industry insiders have lobbied for an official Oscar category for stunt work. As early as the 1990s, the Stuntmen’s Association of Motion Pictures   began campaigning for change, according to LA Times . The irony hit a high point in 2020, when Brad Pitt won an Oscar  for portraying a stuntman in Once Upon a Time... in Hollywood  — a fictional character inspired by real professionals who, at the time, still had no Oscar category of their own. The conversation reignited with The Fall Guy  (2024), a movie about — and for — stunt performers, released into an industry that still hadn’t formally recognized their work. Until, finally, a year later — the Academy announced it. And much of the credit goes to director David Leitch, who helped lead the charge while promoting the film. “This has been a journey for so many of us. Chris O’Hara and myself have invested several years into this. We built on the work of all the stunt designers who fought so hard for this in the past over the past decades. We are very grateful. Thank You @theacademy ”, he said in an Instagram  post.

I was recently asked about the last movie I truly—I mean really—enjoyed. The kind you'd enthusiastically recommend to your friends or family. And... it took me longer than it should have. Which is sad. (It was The Rule of Jenny Penn , now on Shudder). Electric State | ©Netflix We’re living in a strange moment where mainstream movies—especially sci-fi and epic action-adventure blockbusters—have never looked better (most of the time). And yet, after (half) watching Netflix’s latest big-budget sci-fi, The Electric State , I got bored. Bored and mad. I used to love these kinds of movies. Used to long for them. But now? I don’t even care. And I'm not the only one saying it. "They've ruined the movies we loved", I hear people complaining. They are pretty, yes. But also, pretty dumb. This isn’t an isolated issue. It’s symptomatic of a much bigger shift. A shift toward algorithmic “content”. Sure, films are visually stunning—but increasingly forgettable. And forgettable, honestly, is probably the worst thing a movie can be. Being good-looking is not enough anymore . Spectacle used to bring awe, wonder and originality. Today it’s industrialized, copy-pasted, slapped onto everything. But at what cost? The spectacle has grown brighter. Louder. Emptier. And The Electric State  might be the epitome of it all. How did we get here? And more importantly, where do we go next? WHY DO WE LIKE MOVIES? In the book Writing a Great Movie , Jeff Kitchen talks about drama historically serving a kind of shamanistic function: it shows those watching how to transform themselves . We, as an audience, seek guidance in our lives. Before making big decisions, we watch what others have done around us in similar situations and, depending on the consequences of their actions, we adjust accordingly. Similarly, movies offer a safe, fictional space where we experiment with forbidden ideas, radical solutions and provocative scenarios. “The key word in the entertainment industry is outrageousness ”, Jeff Kitchen Movies are meant to push boundaries, test limits, ask uncomfortable questions. But in an era dominated by hyper-political correctness, studios sanitize scripts, simplify motivations and flatten complexity to avoid offending anyone and reach the widest possible audience. The result? Good-looking forgettable movies. At the same time, big-budget productions also scramble to keep up with fast-paced algorithms and our shrinking attention spans — churning out films like they’re reels, optimized for metrics, not meaning . In the process, they’ve forgotten what makes films matter: the story. And the thing is: good stories take time. Time to write, to rethink, to feel dangerous before they feel finished. ALGORITHMIC AESTHETICS The Electric State  is based on a strikingly haunting visual universe created by Simon Stålenhag —a Swedish artist known for blending decaying sci-fi tech into everyday life. His work carries a sense of doom — of loneliness and isolation — but also wonder and beauty. Kind of like Blade Runner 2049. Seriously, if you don't know his graphic novels, look him up! His universes are incredible. So why, despite having such promising source material and a whooping $320 million budget , does The Electric State  leave viewers completely indifferent? Well, it’s probably because every creative decision feels engineered by data, like casting decisions based on Instagram follower counts, frictionless emotional beats, empty dialogue. This film feels manufactured for the “second-screen watch” or “casual viewing” as described by Will Tavlin in N+1 : “Netflix’s movies don’t have to abide by any of the norms established over the history of cinema: they don’t have to be profitable, pretty, sexy, intelligent, funny, well-made, or anything else that pulls audiences into theater seats”. It's not just Netflix. We're seeing the emergence of algorithmic cinema everywhere: stories reverse-engineered from platform metrics, past viewer habits, and AI-chosen scripts. Platforms like Largo.ai  literally quantify screenplay potential—calculating which star should headline, which narrative paths have historically worked best, and assigning percentage probabilities of success. It saves time on decision-making, certainly. But, somewhere along the line, it kills innovation. Creativity. Type-cast heroes | ©Netflix Risky ideas vanish, radical concepts get shelved, and we’re left with endless reruns of safe dystopias (or utopias) and market-tested type-cast heroes. Look, movies are undeniably products, and they must sell. But Hollywood’s current formula isn’t working. Audiences are growing bored. It's stagnating and... it might not even be (totally) their fault. “In doing so, [Netflix] has brought Hollywood to the brink of irrelevance. Because Netflix doesn’t just survive when no one is watching — it thrives”, Will Tavlin THE SILVER LINING It's easy to criticize The Electric State  as a failure because it missed Stålenhag’s original genre—but that’s not really the heart of the problem. The real issue is that it doesn't hit any tone or theme at all. It leaves you feeling nothing. We don't care about the characters, we don't feel their journey. But here’s the good news: audiences are getting tired of recycled franchises, reboots and nostalgia gimmicks. They’re becoming vocal about their fatigue, craving authenticity and fresh stories again. This moment feels somewhat similar to Hollywood’s change of direction in the 90s, from tired franchises that flopped hard (rings any bells?) to indie filmmakers with a distinct voice. “A series of big-budget flops led studios to gamble on idiosyncratic, independent-minded directorial voices and less conventional fare with countercultural energy”, The Take . Are we seeing the same thing today? Are indie mid-budget movies coming back? Hard to say, given the big differences in how media and content is consumed and produced nowadays vs the pre-social media era. But, there’s hope. Just as studios in the ’90s took chances on indie films — think Miramax or IFC Studios (both still around today) — we’re now also seeing players such as A24 and Shudder gain passionate followings by offering bold, original alternatives. Even platforms like  MUBI are finding traction with films like The Substance  by staying focused on cinéma d’auteur. The Substance | ©MUBI So, here’s the deal: if you’re an indie filmmaker with a script abandoned somewhere in your computer: finish it. Now might be your perfect moment. Take the creative risks algorithms will never be able to do (at least not without our input). Because there’s one thing data-driven cinema can not replicate: A story shaped by flaws, opinions and lived experiences, told with your own vision.

Opening sequences set the tone. They introduce the mood, establish themes, and sometimes tell a story before the first scene even begins. While they exist to present the cast and crew, they’re also a chance to immerse the audience in the world of the film or series. A strong opening sequence can define a film’s identity and, if done well, linger in the viewer’s mind long after the episode ends. That’s exactly what happened with Severance . The opening sequences for both seasons were done by Berlin-based digital artist Oliver Latta ( Extraweg ) . They’re a kind of nightmare that is bizarre and fascinating at the same time. Strange. Uncomfortable. And yet, so enjoyable. Why? THE PSYCHOLOGY OF UNSETTLING DESIGN There’s a reason we can’t look away from things that disturb us. Uncanny imagery , like Latta’s rubbery faces, distorted bodies and overall weird art, triggers an emotional response. It generates discomfort that demands our attention. And ultimately, that’s the goal: to make people stop scrolling, to keep them from hitting the “skip” button. And that is what Latta does. He’s known for his eerie and often grotesque 3D animations, that subvert your expectations. His Instagram is filled with hypnotic loops you don’t really know how to feel about, but you keep watching one after the other. His unique art quickly got a lot of attention on social media and he's worked for various brands and music videos. “My aim is to provoke emotions and be different, outstanding, and innovative. [...] I take viewers out of their comfort zones and make them think for themselves”, Latta told SIGGRAPH and added “I want to provoke and sometimes confuse”. AN UNFORGETTABLE INTRO So, it’s no surprise that he was approached by Severance  executive producer and director Ben Stiller  to craft the opening title that visually embodied the show’s themes of fractured identity and corporate control. When he reached out, Stiller had no specific treatment—just the script. With only those lines of dialogue as a reference, Latta began his research and built mood boards, exploring ways to create a surreal world that left room for interpretation. It took them nearly a year to refine the vision. “I saw this guy on Instagram called Extraweg, that had this weird animation of like babies coming out of a brain and turning into jelly. And I though, this is amazing! And so, I reached out to him and he hadn’t done an opening credit sequence, but it felt like his vibe was right for the show”, Ben Stiller in the Late Night with Seth Meyers on S1. With Season 2 of Severance now also streaming, we were able to watch yet another mesmerizing opening title sequence, that got people talking. “The sequence intricately explores Mark's fragmented memories and anxieties, symbolizing his struggle to reclaim his identity”, as explained in Extraweg's website. There seems to be even a little use of AI when the goat appears and morphs, which is very well thought and nobody seems to be bothered by it (very different to the scandals from the past!). To create the sequence, Latta scanned actor Adam Scott to accurately capture his likeness. The digi-double was then manipulated—deformed, duplicated, and reshaped—to visually reflect the show’s themes. For the animation, he pulled inspiration from online references but also relied on his extensive library of unpublished work, adapting existing ideas to fit Severance 's unique world, as he told It’s Nice That. BTS | ©Extraweg website THE MUSIC Of course, you cannot talk about the opening titles without mentioning the music. You see, title sequences are a bit like moody music videos. The music is as important as the images themselves. In Severance case, Theodore Shapiro  is the Emmy-award composer behind the series main title, which is “ so eerily satisfying ” that it perfectly fits with the visuals themselves. And this is true for many great intro sequences. Take Westworld , where Ramin Djawadi ’s score enhances the amazing 3D tableaux. In fact, music is so important that it can sometimes be the defining element of an intro. That’s probably the case with The White Lotus . The sequence itself is visually simple—a curated wallpaper-style montage telling a story of wealth, gossip, and treason (for S2). But Cristobal Tapia De Veer ’s strange, hypnotic score turned it into something unforgettable. At first, the music felt odd, unexpected. But by the end of the season, people became obsessed. So, in the end, what makes Severance ’s intro stand out is a combination of both elements: the unfiltered imagery of Latta accompanied with a great music that just wraps up everything perfectly. It’s something to think about for when you’re doing your intro sequence. Think beyond the usual. The best intros aren’t safe. The ones you remember are the ones that take risks. And we can help you with that.

Zack Snyder's "Rebel Moon" has ignited discussions about the use (or abuse) of slow motion in films. Known for his stylistic, extra-slow-motion sequences, Snyder has faced criticism for employing this technique excessively in both parts of his latest epic sci-fi movies, with many going so far as to say he has "ruined it". Rebel Moon - part 2 | ©Netflix Let's not mince words: the director has disappointed his Snyder-cult (us included), prompting reflection on where things went wrong. With "Rebel Moon", Snyder has shown that impressive visuals alone cannot compensate for a lack of compelling story and character development. To avoid repeating his mistakes, we've decided to dig deeper into the technique: what exactly is slow motion and how can it be used effectively? WHAT IS SLOW MOTION? Slow motion, often abbreviated as slow-mo, is a technique that creates the illusion of time moving slower than normal. This effect is achieved by recording footage at a higher frame rate than it is played back. For example, filming at 120 frames per second (fps) and then playing it back at 24 fps results in a scene appearing five times slower than real-time. In fact, some cameras are specifically designed for capturing high-frame-rate footage, such as the iconic Phantom camera. Dredd | ©DNA Films The technique was pioneered by August Musger , an Austrian priest and physicist. Initially designed to mitigate flickering in early cinema projectors, his invention unintentionally introduced the concept of slow motion. Musger patented his device in 1904, laying the foundation for what would eventually become a fundamental tool in filmmaking. WHEN TO USE SLOW-MO AND WHY? Enhancing visual impact might seem the primary role of slow motion, yet its potential extends beyond this initial function. It allows viewers to immerse themselves in intricate details, amplifying the drama, action, or thematic elements of a scene. However, like any cinematic technique, moderation is key to maintaining its effectiveness. Overuse can diminish its impact. Therefore, select carefully specific moments where this effect serves a purpose beyond mere visual appeal. Here are a few instances where employing slow motion can give that extra “umph” to your movie:   Enhance Emotional Impact Slow motion enhances emotional impact by enabling the audience to absorb every detail of a powerful moment. It is particularly effective in capturing the subtle expressions and reactions of characters during pivotal scenes, such as death scenes like Gwen's in "The Amazing Spider-Man 2”. Yeah… that one. Highlight Action In action sequences, slow motion emphasizes the choreography and intensity of movements, providing directors with an opportunity to showcase critical story elements. This can include the protagonist’s technique, strategic decisions and the high stakes involved. Slow-mo transforms fast-paced action into a comprehensible visual experience for the audience, allowing us to appreciate essential details that might otherwise be missed. For example, in "Puss in Boots", slow-mo is used during Puss' first confrontation with his nemesis, Death, highlighting the moment he is actually injured for the first time, making him defeatable. Create Suspense By decelerating time, slow motion builds suspense and anticipation. This technique is invaluable in thriller or horror films, but its application extends beyond these genres. It intensifies the audience anxiety, as we anticipate the resolution of tense situations. In " Final Girls ", a film that humorously plays with horror tropes, slow motion is employed in a long sequence where the supposedly defeated killer unexpectedly reappears, chasing our characters through the forest. Surreal and Narrative Moments But slow motion can also play a distinct role in narrative storytelling. For instance, in "Dredd" (2012), a drug known as “Slo-Mo” alters perception by slowing down time, intensifying colors and creating a whimsy atmosphere. Each use of this drug transports us into this kind of surreal world, starkly contrasting with the violent scenes depicted. Similarly, filmmaker Lars von Trier uses the technique in several of his films to evoke a surreal ambiance, like the Hypnosis sequence in " Antichrist ". Visual Aesthetics It's fair to acknowledge that slow motion can enhance the visual appeal of any scene, making mundane actions appear extraordinary. However, this should not be the principal reason for its use. Choose wisely, as this is precisely where Snyder sinned. By turning everything (and we mean it) into a visual spectacle, he lost his audience interest. A perfect example of this is the now infamous farming scene in "Rebel Moon 2”.  Despite Snyder's explanation that the plant is crucial to the plot, the excessive sloooooooooow-mo of people harvesting, made it feel more like a bad advertisement, rather than a cinematic experience. Puss in Boots | ©DreamWorks Animation L.L.C 300 VS. REBEL MOON In "300", Zack Snyder's use of slow motion was sparingly employed to enhance storytelling, particularly in battle scenes where it underscored the Spartans' skill and bravery. Each slow-mo shot had a clear purpose, contributing to the film's epic and stylized tone, reminiscent of the graphic novel it portrayed. Conversely, "Rebel Moon" utilizes slow motion excessively, seemingly because it aligns with Snyder's stylistic preferences. Unfortunately, this overuse diminishes pacing and narrative cohesion (not that there is much to begin with, but that’s another story) and actually disconnects the audience. Instead of accentuating pivotal moments, the frequent slow-mo scenes make nothing feel truly significant. They lacked narrative justification . This highlights two crucial lessons from Snyder on how not to use slow-mo : Visual spectacle alone cannot compensate for weak dialogue and underdeveloped characters. Redundancy makes it feel boring and takes away the excitement. In conclusion, slow motion is a potent tool in filmmaking when applied judiciously. It has the potential to heighten emotional and visual impact when used purposefully and precisely. However, as seen in "Rebel Moon", excessive reliance on this effect can detract from the overall experience.

The uncanny valley— a term that has haunted roboticists and VFX artists for decades —is experiencing a resurgence due to artificial intelligence video generators. Coined by Japanese roboticist Masahiro Mori in 1970 in an essay , it describes the unsettling sensation we feel when encountering humanoid figures that are almost, but not quite, lifelike. By Dietmar Höpfl - shockfactor_ai Minor imperfections in appearance or movement trigger discomfort or even revulsion, tapping into deep psychological responses. Why it happens? We actually don’t really know. Apparently, some even question if this is a scientific concept or not, but research is being conducted in this area. ROOTS OF THE UNCANNY VALLEY Mori’s hypothesis stems from human psychology and our innate responses to realism in representation. While exact reasons for this discomfort are debated, researchers speculate it could be due to: Violation of Expectation : Subtle imperfections in a hyper-realistic face or movement disrupt our expectations, creating a jarring effect. Evolutionary Psychology : Some theories suggest our unease arise from our ability to distinguish between alive and dead, or healthy and diseased individuals—a potential survival mechanism. Empathy Gap : We may struggle to emotionally connect with near-perfect imitations that lack a true human essence (this seems to be the case with AI video generators). “The sense of eeriness is probably a form of instinct that protects us from proximal, rather than distal, sources of danger. Proximal sources of danger are corpses, members of different species, and other entities we can closely approach. Distal sources of danger include windstorms and floods”, Masahiro Mori AI UNCANNY VALLEY It’s well-known that CGI has long struggled with the uncanny valley . But, today, we're turning our attention to AI video generators and exploring why they can be so particularly creepy—and whether that's necessarily a bad thing. First, keep in mind that recreating humans is one of the biggest challenges in visual effects. Our brains are finely tuned to recognize the subtleties of human movement and expression. Even minor inconsistencies stand out and when technology tries very hard to mimic us but doesn't quite succeed, it leaves us with that uncomfortable feeling. By Mr. Relative Usually, this has been seen as a problem to overcome—a sign that the technology isn't advanced enough (or that, you know, “ CGI is ruining movies ”!). Therefore, in VFX, we try to stray away as much from humans as we can, but sometimes… it’s just what the director wants. This gives birth to very unfortunate results, like cat-hybrids or bringing back the dead to life for a movie. A term coined as “ digital necromancy ”, according to Futurism . But I diverse. Back with AI. The tool is very good at making us think, at first sight, that it looks human. However, when you look closely , you can see six fingers or slight malformations in the images it creates. But it’s when it tries to generate movement that it becomes really bizarre, going places we’ve never really seen. This happens because AI lacks true spatial awareness. It doesn't comprehend physical space as we do; instead, it generates content based on patterns learned from vast datasets. This can result in inconsistencies, distorted perspectives or unnatural movements. By Lola.viscera To overcome these challenges, developers are working on enhancing AI's spatial awareness and motion generation capabilities. For instance, in robotics, they're training robots in digital simulations (or digital twins) featuring stairs, other robots, metahumans and obstacles, so they learn how to interact with external elements and won't be a danger when put in the real world. Similarly, in the realm of filmmaking, the aim is to imitate reality , which is why CGI has (mostly) evolved to achieve realistic results. The same is going to happen with AI video generators, with companies looking to cut costs and create cheaper and easier ads to produce. However, I believe that AI's most compelling work emerges when its uncanny and weird outputs are embraced , especially in the horror genre (but not only!). Many artists on social media are leveraging these eerie qualities to create unsettling videos that we can't help but keep watching. These are the same artists we've included here as examples for our article. By Daryl Anselmo These uncanny visuals produced with AI challenge our perceptions of reality and elicit strong emotions. This shift raises a question: Is the uncanny valley necessarily a bad thing? While many still strive to eliminate it, embracing the uncanny opens up new possibilities. As an art form, it allows creators to explore places where we would not have been able to go on our own—a realm between reality and artificiality, engaging audiences in ways that are new, fascinating and definitely disturbing. What do you think about it? By Doopiidoo