There’s something deeply human about our obsession with perfection. We demand flawless visuals, seamless CGI, and instant gratification from films, yet rarely stop to consider the invisible labor behind the magic. Take the recent backlash against the VFX in Ramayana—a film that’s been thrust into the spotlight not for its storytelling, but for the way its digital effects have become a lightning rod for criticism. To me, this isn’t just about a movie; it’s a microcosm of our collective relationship with technology and artistry in the modern age. What makes this particularly fascinating is how the creators of Ramayana are fighting back, not with defensiveness, but with a raw, almost vulnerable honesty about the sheer scale of their work. They’re not just making a film; they’re trying to reframe how we think about what it means to create something epic in the 21st century.
Let’s start with the elephant in the room: the VFX. Ranbir Kapoor, playing Lord Rama, has taken to defending the CGI as if it were a sacred trust. He argues that people assume someone just ‘plopped in some AI and called it a day.’ But here’s the thing—this isn’t just a technical process; it’s a psychological battle. Audiences today are conditioned to expect hyper-realism, yet the reality is that CGI is a painstaking craft. I’ve seen artists spend years perfecting the texture of a single piece of fabric or the way light refracts through a character’s eyes. When Kapoor mentions that Nitesh Tiwari and Namit Malhotra have been obsessively tweaking the color of the sky for months, it’s not just about pixels—it’s about creating a world that feels alive. And yet, the public often reduces this to a binary: either it’s perfect or it’s garbage. What many don’t realize is that perfection is a myth. Every frame is a compromise between art and feasibility, and that’s where the real story lies.
Then there’s the question of criticism itself. Tiwari’s comment about trolls amplifying the smallest mistake hits a nerve. It’s a universal truth in creative industries: the loudest voices often drown out the quiet labor. But what this really suggests is a deeper cultural shift. In an era where social media turns every minor flaw into a viral punchline, creators are forced to defend their work in ways that feel increasingly futile. Malhotra’s admission that they’re trying to ‘educate’ influencers and creators about the film’s true nature feels almost tragic. Why should filmmakers have to explain their process to people who may not even watch the film? It’s a reminder that art is no longer just about creation—it’s about survival in a world that demands instant validation.
And yet, there’s a strange beauty in this tension. Ramayana isn’t just a film; it’s a test of patience, both for the creators and the audience. The team’s insistence that the VFX is ‘daunting’ hints at the scale of their ambition. They’re not just retelling an ancient epic—they’re trying to make it feel fresh, relevant, and visually stunning in a way that honors the source material while pushing the boundaries of what cinema can do. This raises a deeper question: Can we, as a society, stop treating CGI as a gimmick and start seeing it as a language? A tool for storytelling as much as spectacle? I think we can, but it requires a shift in mindset. It requires us to look beyond the surface and ask not just ‘Does this look real?’ but ‘What does this mean?’
Looking ahead, Ramayana could become a case study in how we perceive technology in art. If the film succeeds, it might pave the way for more ambitious projects that take risks with VFX. If it fails, it could reinforce the idea that audiences are too jaded to appreciate complexity. Either way, the conversation around it is already shaping the future of Indian cinema. Personally, I find it thrilling that a film based on one of the world’s oldest stories is sparking such modern debates. It’s a reminder that myths are alive because they’re adaptable. And maybe, just maybe, this is the beginning of a new chapter where technology and tradition don’t have to be at odds—they can coexist, even thrive together.
