The iPhone 16 Pro's best camera feature is an 'off button'
An ode to camera dials and super glue.
Watching The Verge’s review of Apple’s new iPhone 16 Pro, I was struck by what I consider one of the most exciting new features to ship on an iPhone camera in recent years: the ability to turn off (or at least dramatically dial back) the computational photography decisions the iPhone is making—which are meant to brighten the shadows and flatten the highlights to create images that are “perfectly” exposed.
I am not a fan of the HDR hellscape of modern smartphone photography. For years, I was a Google Pixel user simply because I loved the crunchier, contrasty images it produced (and yes, I know Google is using its own computational photography to achieve this look). While working at The Verge, I made a video with Sean O’Kane in which we went into great detail to compare and contrast (no pun intended) the differences between images taken on the iPhone X, Pixel 2, and Samsung Note 8 phones and decide which one was best. The Pixel was the clear winner simply because the photos looked the most natural. Less was more.
Looking back, I personally believe that those years of Pixel dominance were a significant factor in forcing Apple to up their iPhone camera game. Today, it’s clear from The Verge’s review that when photos taken on the iPhone 16 Pro are compared with the Pixel 9 Pro, they are almost indistinguishable from each other for all intents and purposes.
This trend has been happening for some years now. I switched back to the iPhone just before the pandemic, more for the iPhone’s app and services ecosystem than the camera, but also because if I want certain photographs to look more to my liking, I simply download the HEIC file and retouch it using Photoshop. Frankly, I still rarely use Apple’s tools at all. Most of the retouching I do is to remove the HDR effect from Apple’s computational photography. I’m effectively using Photoshop to turn it off. But I’ve always wished I had a button to do that on the phone—Halide’s Process Zero has been recommended to me as an app solution for this conundrum.
Looking for the “off button” has been my approach to cameras for years: Keep only the most basic settings and turn off anything automatic where possible. I know I sound like a Luddite, but I have my reasons. In the past, I have been badly burned by auto settings letting me down when I upgraded my Nikon F3 to a Nikon F4 way back in 1988.
The Nikon F3 was a fairly basic film camera in terms of available settings: Manual or Automatic. That was it. Which was fine for me because I don’t think I ever used my F3 on the A setting even once.
The Nikon F4 was supposedly a big step forward from the F3. It offered far more versatility in terms of shooting modes: M (manual), A (automatic), S (shutter speed priority), P (program - fully automatic), and PH (high-speed program which prioritized higher shutter speeds).
But I didn’t buy it for any of these options; I bought it because it had a smaller, built-in motor drive and was (supposedly) just as rugged as the F3 (which was built like a tank) but in a more compact form. Size mattered because weight is accumulative: I would regularly shoot carrying two F3s plus motor drives and lenses; anything that offered me the same performance with less weight was and still is enticing.
I was working as a sports photographer, and I often found myself running around some sports event with my two or three cameras slung over my shoulders and swinging wildly while I followed the action. Shooting like this was never an issue with the Nikon F3. That camera was, as I have already mentioned, big, heavy, and very sturdy. It also had a locking shutter speed dial. I didn’t realize how significant that was until I upgraded to the F4.
The Nikon F4 also had a lock to prevent the mode dial from being moved by accident. But it turned out to be a far less sturdy locking design than the one on the F3. As a result, I would often take a picture at a critical moment only to find the camera had accidentally been knocked to one of the automatic modes, which often meant I didn’t take the photo I intended to take. It’s hard enough to get the split-second shot as it is without your camera trying to sabotage you in the process.
My solution to this annoying design flaw was simple: I set the dial to Manual and then superglued it in place. Over time, the dial would work itself free, and I’d superglue it again. The Nikon F4 cost $2,500 in 1988 when I bought it, the equivalent of more than $6,600 today. And the only way I could make it usable (for me) was super glue. Not great, Bob.
I’m sure it’ll come as no surprise to learn that I switched to the Canon EOS-1 system in 1990, primarily for Canon’s revolutionary autofocus but also because I didn’t have to superglue any of the dials to stop them being moved by accident. The EOS-1 only had one, a BIG dial on the back of the camera that was easy to switch off.
Looking back now, the EOS-1, though still a film camera, was my first foray into using a digital interface to control camera settings. I loved it, and I continued to shoot on the EOS-1 until I switched to the Contax RTSIII for a few years. The Contax was, in many ways, a step back in terms of the camera (though it did have a big, beautiful locking shutter speed dial). But using an RTS III meant I could shoot on gorgeous Contax Zeiss lenses, which were all exceptional—the Contax 200mm f/2 APO Sonnar T* MM was *chef’s kiss*.
When it came to buying my first digital 35mm camera, it was back to Canon and the EOS-1D. Switching to digital also meant I began to increasingly use automatic modes, and eventually, I shot almost exclusively in TV mode (shutter speed priority) most of the time.
Any camera that offers me the same performance with less weight was—and still is—enticing.
In recent years, I have been shooting almost exclusively on my phones—iPhone and Pixel—and today, I no longer own a digital 35mm camera. I simply don’t see the need. And, of course, shooting on Smartphones has meant I am effectively now only using program mode; the iPhone is making all of the exposure decisions for me, including the HDR processing of the image.
But as the HDR button has been gradually turned up to 11 over time, the effect has become more and more invasive, making the photos brutally anodyne in the pursuit of exposure perfection.
And as our photos have become collectively more same-y, at least in terms of the computational photo processing if not subject matter, I have found myself looking for ways to take pictures that are more “real”—more authentic, less processed, less perfect. I have felt an increasing need to get it wrong sometimes. It’s important to make mistakes, and the iPhone simply won’t let me. This is one of the principal reasons I have been shooting with an analog film camera again and taking fewer photos using my phone.
With the launch of the iPhone 16 perhaps I can do both: take digital pictures on my phone and enjoy shooting on film when the mood takes me. Regardless, my iPhone 14’s days are numbered. I’m about to upgrade to an iPhone 16 Pro Max just because of everything I can turn off.
No super glue required.