Harry Potter, Visions of Magic. The Lost Magic of Value

This weekend, I took my family to the immersive experience “Harry Potter: Visions of Magic.” On paper, the promise was fantastic, especially for my two daughters, fans of the magical universe (the oldest, 10 years old, knows the lore of the movies and books inside out). However, upon leaving, there was a shared feeling of dissatisfaction floating in the air. My eight-year-old, with childhood’s brutal honesty, gave it an “8 out of 10.” She liked it, but didn’t love it. My older daughter and her friend, whose expectations were sky-high, agreed: while some rooms were impressive, the dynamic felt repetitive, resulting in a verdict of “meh.”

My wife’s question resonated strongly: “But what exactly are we expecting then?” While she wasn’t entirely dissatisfied, her critique extended to the details that betray a disconnect with true fans: souvenirs that didn’t meet expectations (“I mean, how can they not have a single Dobby souvenir, but they do have a paper airplane message kit!”) and a “butterbeer” that was offensive to the palate (point for my homemade recipe, according to my daughters and their friend, my toughest judges).

As for me, I couldn’t deny the technical prowess: monumental interactive screens and impeccable production. The technology was there, fulfilling its mission to make us “feel” like we were doing magic, although sometimes that magic seemed to need a call to tech support. But something essential was missing — soul, perhaps? A genuine connection that transcended special effects?

It was amid a debate with my wife about the ticket cost when the central idea hit me. My argument was simple: the price was excessive for what was offered. My wife reasonably countered about the huge investment in production. And there it was — the key concept we often forget outside of economics and marketing classes: the abyssal difference between perceived value and real value (or price).

Perceived value is what I believe a product or service is worth to me. In my mind, that experience wasn’t worth more than half the price we payed for. We were paying double for an unfulfilled promise.

This phenomenon isn’t exclusive to a magical experience. It’s become an epidemic in our consumer society. We see it everywhere: concerts with astronomical prices for two hours of music; “healthy” products that justify exorbitant costs simply with an “artisanal” or “organic” label; technology that sells every component separately, inflating the final price under the promise of being “cutting-edge” and the subtle invitation to buy the charger that, for some reason, is no longer considered an essential part of the phone. Designer clothes that could feed an entire family for a month.

Brands, in their eagerness to squeeze every last cent, have forgotten that consumer loyalty isn’t infinite. The question is, how long will this strategy work before consumers, feeling scammed, simply turn their backs?

The Human Cost: The Inequalities That Hurt

This is where the disproportion becomes painful and reveals a deep moral fracture in our value scale. While we accept paying fortunes for fleeting entertainment, we tolerate an insulting reality: a teacher, a pillar in the formation of future generations, receives a miserable wage for their work; a doctor, due to lack of opportunities, ends up prescribing in a generic pharmacy for a meager salary; an environmental activist not only goes uncompensated but often risks their life to protect our collective future.

These are the disproportions that should hurt us as a society. They reflect what we value and, more importantly, what we’ve stopped valuing.

Capitalism has generated undeniable forms of wealth and culture, but its most predatory, ethics-free version cannot be the way. It’s not about rejecting the system but demanding its best version.

We, as consumers, have the final say and a power we underestimate. We must start being more demanding about the relationship between what we pay and what we receive. We need to be more aware of the impact this inequality generates and seek fairer transactions. Let’s reclaim perceived value as the real measure.

True magic doesn’t reside in interactive screens or sugary butterbeer. It resides in justice, equity, and the recognition of authentic human value.

Let’s never lose sight of that.