Why I'm Leaving the Film Visual Effects Industry After 13 Years
The End of One Chapter
In my thirteenth year working in film visual effects, I decided it was time to embark on a new journey.
Ever since recording the podcast episode “The Irresistible Charm of Game VFX” with a few friends, I’ve been reflecting on this: what exactly was I chasing in the world of film visual effects? And what are others chasing?
One day, while re-watching the Harry Potter series, I came across the scene where Harry first meets Mr. Ollivander. Ollivander says, “I wonder…” In that moment, it dawned on me what the essence of film is about: wonder—that fleeting, inexplicable magic that keeps us enthralled.
The Early Days of Visual Effects
When I started in 2008, everything about visual effects felt daunting. Our technology often fell short of the artistic demands placed on us. Even when advanced techniques existed, the software and hardware were rarely up to the task of delivering cinema-quality effects.
My own experience was limited back then, and every time I saw a brilliant effect in a movie, reverse-engineering how it might have been created felt like solving a puzzle with missing pieces. Yet, despite the constant struggle, every hurdle felt necessary and meaningful.
Of course, meaning is relative. Compared to, say, the medical field, perhaps the entire VFX industry pales in significance. Back then, visual effects were expensive and meticulously planned. Decisions on what could or could not be done were often made as early as the scriptwriting stage. Experimenting with new effects was a calculated risk because everyone understood that the success of a movie ultimately wasn’t determined by its VFX.
The Changing Face of Hollywood
Thirteen years later, Hollywood has undergone dramatic changes—not just due to technological advances but also because of the industrialisation and digitalisation of filmmaking. Every step, from script to release, is now driven by layers of data and competing voices. Hollywood may never have been a place for individualism, but in recent years, this has become even more apparent.
We’ve entered an era of globalised, recycled storytelling. Sequels, prequels, and reboots dominate the landscape, and originality often takes a back seat to what’s “safe.”
I still remember the excitement when the first theatrical film I worked on was released. That silver screen, the window to my childhood dreams, suddenly felt within reach—connected to something I helped create. Seeing my name in the credits list after the audience left was exhilarating.
That moment brought a flood of memories from the year-long grind: the struggles incomprehensible to those outside the industry. And yet, thirteen years later, I find myself indifferent, to a point I am not even interested in watching the films I worked on, let alone caring about the credits.
Fulfilling a Dream at ILM
Five years ago, I joined Industrial Light & Magic in London, fulfilling a dream I’d carried for nearly 20 years. During that time, I learned invaluable skills and perspectives through countless dailies, versions, setups, and casual lunch discussions. I also made many lifelong friends in the industry.
Yet, there’s a curious dilemma at ILM (forgive the humblebrag here). Many of us feel we’ve run out of creative challenges. Don’t get me wrong—every project has its unique hurdles. But these challenges are no longer about whether we can achieve a certain effect. In my five years at ILM, I never encountered an effect we couldn’t figure out.
As long as the client had a clear vision and the effect was conceptually imaginable, we could achieve it with enough time and effort. The real challenge now lies in doing it faster and with fewer people.
The wonder shops are becoming factories.
The Creativity We’ve Lost
A decade ago, technical limitations forced us to explore diverse problem-solving approaches. I miss that way of working, where failing to create an effect was the norm, and success felt monumental. Back then, creativity flourished because necessity drove innovation. Today, the challenges are more about the holistic design of visual storytelling.
If realism is the yardstick by which VFX quality is measured, then achieving it rarely lies solely in the hands of the artist. A single shot might go through hundreds of iterations, each crafted by artists and supervisors to perfection. The lighting, composition, and timing are orchestrated down to every frame and pixel, producing an almost surreal level of precision.
This perfection, ironically, can make the imagery feel less real. Life isn’t that perfect. Even with the best actors, controlled sets, and skilled cinematography, hundreds of takes might not capture the natural rhythm and composition that VFX achieves almost effortlessly.
Finding Wonder Again
A few days ago, I watched Supernova, and a line stuck with me: “A wise man once said, we will not starve for lack of wonders, but from lack of wonder.”
For me, VFX is filled with wonders, but I find it increasingly difficult to feel that sense of wonder within the industry.
Going forward, I plan to explore games, interactive media, real-time rendering, and AI—fields that, for me, hold untapped potential for creative expression. Part of this continues the legacy of VFX, but much of it feels like uncharted territory. Perhaps this is a reckless decision, just as dropping out of high school to pursue filmmaking was. But looking back, it was worth it.
My love for cinema hasn’t waned; I just need distance from the visual effects industry. Telling stories as a director remains part of my long-term dream.
To fellow VFX artists reading this, I’d advise against blindly following others’ paths. Everyone’s journey and goals are different. If you ever need a companion on the road less traveled, I’ll be here, still fuelled by the passion that started it all.