As a kid, I never had the luxury of the modern day flashy technology or CGI magic when it came to experiencing the world of sci-fi. My ‘brutish’ experience consisted of VHS tapes that had lost their luster, their images barely visible because they were worn out. Watching the original *Star Wars* and *Blade Runner* on those tapes, which I vividly remember, formed feelings that will last a lifetime.

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Each movie demonstrated the unparalleled beauty of handmade storytelling and intricate craftsmanship which was not simulated by a computer. I can distinctly remember my encounter with *Star Wars*. My uncle handed me a battered copy of a VHS tape, not the remastered version. The Millennium Falcon space model looked incredibly charming. Rather than flying smoothly like modern space videos, the model had a blocky shape, indicating that a lot of effort went into making it.

Not only was I intrigued by the story while observing the struggle with the TIE fighter, but I was equally interested in the fact that actual people grappled with the challenge of bringing the fictional dimensions to life. The intricacy of the story and the craftsmanship that went into making the explosions – all intricate and detailed, were wrought from imagination, simply fascinated me. It’s this tactile quality that I think makes John Carpenter’s *The Thing* (1982) so hauntingly unforgettable.

No amount of CGI could ever replicate the realism that practical effect artists are able to achieve when capturing the creature’s transformation and its unsettling movements. The raw, unfiltered effects of a horrifying transformation paired with the arctic’s empty and cold magnificence were the root of a horrific sensation that to this day frightens me. I remember exactly where I was when I first watched it and how gaping my mouth was when witnessing how alive the transformation looked. How lifelike it seemed can only be credited to the creativity of designers’ hands.

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A good example would be Alien released in *1979*, where the Giger design did not portray a mere design; it embodied a creature that had to be performed with and by the actors. With their true terror, although seemingly dramatic in a recording, stems not in real connotation, but in response to a frightening world that is authentic.

When comparing practical effects with special effects, the former has a more direct impact on the audience’s emotion, particularly when it zooms in on monsters. It gets the audience evaluating if a digital monster could ever evoke the same fear a physical one does. As I delve deeper into the world of special effects, I, too, long for the times when filmmakers were forced to work around problems by coming up with unique solutions which not only required narrative construction but also world-building with intricate detail including fantasy for their characters.

Take for instance my recent rewatch of Jason and the Argonauts. Even today, I cannot get over Ray Harryhausen’s stop motion animation. These monsters had a sculptural beauty unlike today’s CGI that is utterly devoid of life and emotion. What we witness nowadays is a true testament to the amazing feat presented with the barbaric arts and possible at the time.

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In Ridley Scott’s Blade Runner, the reason behind the movie’s deep worldbuilding was Scott’s care for details. Everything crafted from miniatures and set pieces was constructed to strive for reality, something most films these days abandon in favor of CGI theatrics.

Scott’s vision ensured that the city infrastructure was both dense and felt real, unlike the glossy fake environments many blockbusters use CGI for these days. Those environments bear no resemblance to the reality, which is unfortunate.

It’s easy to appreciate the advances in CGI, but the more it is used, the more a part of us fades away. While it is true CGI has broadened the possibilities on a screen, the sensation of skill infused into the work is lost when shifting from practical to digital effects.

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The first film that comes to mind is *Jurassic Park* (1993). I remember it specifically for the digitally inline special effects that blended together practical and graphic effects. It was astonishing to see the captivating life-sized animatronics created for the dinosaurs and the CGI dinos that were integrated seamlessly along side them, and the *Jurassic Park* was indeed a fantasy world where everything looked real.

This is the balance that needs to be achieved, but, unfortunately, cannot be. The majority of modern films over-rely on CGI, and the *Star Wars* franchise showcases practical effects beautifully in its original trilogy.

The original films added to the immersive experience of the franchise by using real models as part of the sets, while the prequels gave up some realism to plunge into a digital world. I still get emotional thinking about the first time I watched a Star Destroyer or TIE fighter zoom across the screen. These were actual models made by absolute legends, and the fact that they existed sends shivers down my spine.

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Compared to the original trilogy, the prequels felt too artificial for my liking. Practical effects are subject to the availability of illumination and space. A truly 3D object reacts to its environment way more than a digitally created object.

The physicality of the mock ups and the way light reflects off the crafted surfaces far surpass the capabilities of CGI, especially in regard to shadows. It breaks my heart to see just how simple and cheap digital effects are, because they strip the film of the raw beauty that comes from an artist’s handiwork. The effort that goes into practical effects shines a light on a different aspect of filmmaking that is all too often ignored.

The collaborative efforts between artists and technicians meld together during shoots, enabling them to achieve a common goal. As an example, take Kubrick’s work on *2001: A Space Odyssey.* The attention to detail towards the models and sets was breathtaking and their scale as well as their realism was astonishing. For me as a child, watching the movie felt like visiting a new world, a solidified one at that, unlike the pixelated realm I had known.

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The blurring of the lines between practical effects and digital techniques in the last few years has been immense. An example of this convergence is *Mad Max: Fury Road,* which features incredible visuals along with the feel of practical effects. Combining CGI with practical effects so that the imagery does not seem outrageous is done masterfully.

This was advanced by *the Mandalorian* with the breathtaking “Volume” technology, which uses massive LED screens to build set pieces that serve as dynamic backdrops. This combination practically proves that effects are not useless; there are still valuable assets in the telling of modern stories through the lens of practical effects. In a nutshell, the debate of practical versus CGI does not have an absolute victor; what matters is exploring how each approach contributes to storytelling.

CGI has opened up spectacular new vistas for cinema, but the tangible nature of practical effects does provide an emotional attachment to the film. For me, there has always been something wonderful about sci-fi because every single prop or model is the marvelous handiwork of an imagination, and that wonder is bound to disappear with the increase of reliance on virtual props. It is my conviction that modern film makers need to revive practical effects, not to relive the past, but to amalgamate with digital fantasy.

The combination of both integrates seamlessly and creates a captivating cinema experience. Their hands were toiling in artistry and pouring their heart to make it, the magic of seeing something actually real on the screen captivates like no other and it’s wonderous all by itself. One can remember the bygone days and with lots of hope, reason to reminisce is that the legacy of practical effects will challenge, and motivate the coming generations of filmmakers.

In the heart of the soul, the essence of the magic animates is the kindness and tell a tale which brings people together. I remember those good olden day’s days, offensive CGI alongside practical effects served remarkable stories which were captivating paradoxically. While the movie industry will perpetually evolve, there is still hope that one day practical effects will manage to reclaim their home in the very heart of cinema, providing hope for the kind of captivating storytelling that, could be appreciated for centuries to come that will withstand the test of time.

 

Author

Quinn Mercer is Dystopian Lens’s nostalgic soul, dedicated to all things retro in the world of sci-fi. With a passion for ‘80s pop culture, classic video games, and practical effects, Quinn’s writing is filled with personal anecdotes about growing up on the golden age of sci-fi. His conversational style transports readers back in time, while also critically reflecting on the state of modern sci-fi. A collector of VHS tapes and action figures, Quinn’s love for old-school media makes him the perfect guide to revisiting the classics and comparing them to today’s high-tech remakes.  

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