Blockbusters, Art Films, and the Photography Parallel

I’ve always loved movies—not just for their artistic value, but for the fascinating business behind them.

On one end of the spectrum, we have blockbuster films: high-budget productions that cost hundreds of millions to make and aim to earn just as much (or more) at the box office. These movies are engineered for mass appeal, designed to attract the widest possible audience. Think summer hits like Toy Story, The Avengers, Batman, or Mission: Impossible. The stories are often straightforward, the conflicts clear, and the action sequences are the main draw.

On the other end, there are films with smaller budgets and more niche audiences—the kind celebrated by the Academy Awards. These are the artistic films that challenge conventions. They explore complex emotions, avoid easy answers, and often break traditional storytelling structures like the three-act format. They demand our full attention. Not everyone enjoys them, but those who do are deeply passionate. Think The Silence of the Lambs, Girl with Dragon Tattoo, Everything Everywhere All At Once, or One Battle After Another.

Of course, these two categories aren’t mutually exclusive. Occasionally, a film manages to do both: captivate the masses while offering emotional and intellectual depth. One of my all-time favorites is The Dark Knight. Christopher Nolan crafted a film that’s both action-packed and philosophically rich—a rare feat.

This got me thinking: is there a similar divide in photography?

What kinds of photographs have mass appeal? Perhaps the postcard-perfect shots—sunlit landmarks, iconic skylines, or dreamy landscapes. These are the visual equivalents of blockbusters: instantly recognizable, widely shared, and easy to love.

Then there’s the other kind—photographs that may not appeal to everyone but resonate deeply with a smaller audience. Street photography comes to mind. It’s raw, unpredictable, and emotionally layered. I’m a huge fan of Fan Ho, whose work captures fleeting moments of urban life with poetic precision. I personally prefer his images over traditional landscape photography, though I’m not sure how many people know his name.

So what makes a photograph “good”? Is it the number of likes on Instagram? The volume of comments? Or is it something more elusive—something that stirs emotion, sparks thought, or lingers in the mind?

It’s an age-old question, and maybe there’s no single answer. But exploring it helps me better understand my own creative instincts—and maybe yours too.