Fujifilm vs Sony: Love, Loss, and Autofocus: Part 2
You’ve Got Mail
I don’t know about you, but when I know I’ve got a parcel coming, it’s all I can think about. I’m like a kid at Christmas.
If I get a delivery window—say, two hours (ideally first thing in the morning, realistically late afternoon)—that’s perfect. But if it’s our lovely, now-privatised Royal Mail, it could be anytime until well into the evening.
And then I’m like a dog with its nose pressed to the glass, waiting for its owner. Only instead of a warm connection with another human being, it’s more likely to be a sulky teenager with a double-taped cardboard box full of expensive electronics that I hope will somehow fill the hole inside me.
Still, it’s an exciting day. No doubt.
So when the second Sony arrived (the A7 IV), I was primed and ready—and this time, it was brand new. I didn’t mention the last one was used (nothing wrong with that), and didn’t even come with a box. But this one I’d bought new, because with the cashback deal it was the same price as a used model. So I had the fresh box, the manual, and all the other accoutrements that come with a camera fresh from the factory.
But past the cellophane and silica gel, to my horror—the handgrip was even bigger than the last one.
They’d also swapped out some of the magnesium body for plastic composite, which didn’t feel great in the hand. And to top it off, it had one of those stupid, YouTuber-friendly flip-out screens — so they can stare at their pimply faces while looking into the lens.
First impressions? Not ideal.
Couples Therapy
Still, I was determined to make it work. I programmed it to mirror the Fujifilm as closely as possible — button shortcuts, burst rates, the lot.
If you’re a street shooter — or work in any genre that relies heavily on quick reactions and deeply ingrained muscle memory — you’ll know how infuriating it is to feel like you suddenly don’t know how to use your own gear. I wanted to soften the blow of that inevitable incompetence that comes with switching to a new camera system.
So I was pretty surprised, then, that from the very first evening out, it wasn’t that difficult to get used to. It wasn’t seamless like the Fuji, of course, but I was genuinely blown away by the Sony’s autofocus and how well it handled low light. That alone made the early learning curve a lot more bearable.
My initial plan was to switch between the two cameras regularly. The Sony was quite heavy, and the Fuji was lighter with a wider range of lenses. But then I bought a new camera strap and, when spring rolled around, a lighter 50mm lens — which helped ease the worst of the weight issues.
That said, switching between systems quickly became a pain. Every time I went back to the Sony after using the Fuji, I found myself almost back at square one — confused, fumbling with settings. So I ended up shooting with the Sony more than expected, just to really ingrain the muscle memory. Even now, nearly six months later, it’s still not there. Part of that’s not having Fuji’s dials — a physical dial with pictures of drive modes (bracket, burst, etc.) is a lot easier to suss out than “C3”, for example.
Occasionally I still use the Fuji. The Sony only has a 50mm lens so if I want a different perspective, I pick up the Fuji. I used it at Chinese New Year, and I was blown away by its colour science — I’d forgotten how good it is. Still far better than the much newer Sony’s. But on a recent trip to Barcelona I took the Fuji and its little 18-55mm zoom but I really missed the Sony’s speed, despite the extra flexibility of the Fuji and the zoom.
There’s also something about the full-frame look… I don’t know if it’s the sensor size or just the way the images render with Sony’s technology, but it has a certain quality I’ve come to appreciate — even if I can’t quite put my finger on it.
The Sensible Choice
So it looks like I’m a Sony shooter — for now, at least. I still own two great Fujis, but I think the company itself have lost their way a bit. Their recent marketing and strategic decisions seem increasingly geared toward wooing the TikTok crowd rather than serving the needs of serious hobbyists and working photographers. It’s all tilted toward influencer-friendly gimmicks — flashy new film simulations, an overpriced half-frame camera, and a general sense of identity crisis — while some of the core strengths that built their reputation have started to slip.
The firmware debacle earlier this year didn’t help. An autofocus update rolled out across multiple models left many Fujifilm shooters stuck with unreliable performance for months. No immediate fix. Not even an admission there was a problem. After years of rock-solid firmware support — arguably one of their defining strengths — it felt like they’d taken their eye off the ball. A lot of long-time users, myself included, were left wondering if the brand still had the same commitment to its core community.
Add to that the growing questions around the build quality of some of their recent models, and the massive price hikes pushing them ever closer to full-frame territory. Their autofocus still lags behind the top brands, and their newer lenses are getting chunkier. That once-clear advantage of a compact system? Not really there anymore. If size is your main concern, you’d arguably be better off with Micro Four Thirds.
With brands like Sony and Canon, you know you’re getting a camera that can handle any professional job. So aside from street, documentary, and maybe wedding photographers, I honestly can’t see why anyone else would opt for Fuji.
Sports and wildlife shooters? No chance.
It does make me a bit sad, though. It feels like one of those compromises some people feel they have to make as they get older — when choosing a partner, you start valuing stability over sparkle. The Sony is reliable. She’s not a supermodel, but she won’t let you down. You learn to appreciate her quiet consistency, the way she just gets on with the job— even if sometimes she feels more like a sensible housefrau than the sort of girl you’d burn your life down for.
The Fujifilm, on the other hand—she’s the girl in the red dress. The one who’ll break your heart at the worst possible moment. But still, you catch yourself glancing in the rearview mirror, daydreaming at work, staring at your own reflection twenty years later and wondering how everything got so… pragmatic. So safe.
Some photos from the Sony in it’s first few outings (below)
