jkspepper photography - Fujifilm X-Pro2 Review

Fujifilm

Threads post

This is my favourite camera, probably of all time. This specific one too, to the point I'd rather pay more money to have this one repaired than have to replace with a newer one... this is my X-Pro2.

How is it going after 9 years?

This review is WIP.

But TLDR, if you care more about a fun shooting experience over technical marvels, simple editing over hours in front of a screen in Lightroom, and images that output superbly for sharing and social media (just skip the words and look at the images below...) - you may continue.

The Fujifilm X-Pro2 in 2026: A Review for the Delightfully Stubborn

Let us, for a moment, set aside the cacophony of 50-megapixel sensors, the AI-powered subject detection that knows your dog’s existential dread before you do, and cameras that can shoot 8K video until their batteries die and the heat death of the universe. Let us instead consider a relic, a paragon of thoughtful anachronism: the Fujifilm X-Pro2. In the year of our lord 2026, this camera is not just still kicking; it’s holding court at the pub, telling rambling, beautiful stories while newer models outside frantically track focus on a speeding e-scooter.

The Greatest Camera Fujifilm Ever Made (A Statement Made with Calm, Unwavering Bias)

To declare the X-Pro2 Fujifilm’s magnum opus is to invite heated debate from X100 series devotees and GFX shooters with wallets the size of small asteroids. Yet, here we stand. It is the perfect distillation of Fuji’s ethos: a digital camera that feels like a deeply personal photographic tool rather than a computational imaging slab. It has the hybrid viewfinder—a party trick that never gets old, allowing you to toggle between a crisp EVF and the optical, frameline-bounded joy of a rangefinder (ish). Its dials are physical, satisfyingly clicky, and require actual human intention to operate. There are no touchscreen swipes to enter “Vintage Noir Super HD” mode. It is a camera that believes you have a brain, and it’s rather charmingly optimistic about that.

24 Megapixels: The Sweet Spot of “Enough”

In 2026, where phone sensors have more pixels than some national censuses, the X-Pro2’s 24MP sensor seems almost quaint. Quaint, and absolutely perfect. It provides resolution enough to crop a little, print a lot, and never, ever stress about the 80GB folder of near-identical RAW files you’ve just created on a walk. It is a liberating constraint. The camera isn’t asking you to feed its insatiable pixel hunger; it’s saying, “Here is a very competent canvas. Now go make a picture.” The files are robust, malleable, and lack the clinical, microscopic detail that can make every portrait an unforgiving dermatological survey.

The Colour Science: Where the Magic (and the Fun) Never Fades

This is the X-Pro2’s trump card, its fountain of youth. While other brands were busy perfecting “accurate” colour, Fujifilm’s engineers were apparently time-traveling, bottling the essence of lost emulsions. The JPEGs it produces are not mere images; they are pre-varnished moods. Classic Chrome remains the undisputed champion of melancholic cool. Astia renders skin tones with a flattering, gentle grace. Provia is the dependable, all-purpose hero.

This colour science is the ultimate fun-hack. You can shoot JPG with confidence, spend less time dithering in Lightroom, and more time actually photographing. In 2026, a time of infinite choice and paralyzing editing suites, the X-Pro2 offers a delightful shortcut to satisfaction. It makes you look good with minimal effort, a trait more valuable than any spec sheet accolade.

Technical Quirks (Let’s Not Call Them “Flaws,” Shall We?)

Ah, but it is not perfect. To use the X-Pro2 in 2026 is to engage in a gentle waltz with its… character.

Autofocus: It is not fast. It is, let’s say, considered. It hunts in low light with the hesitant determination of a man looking for his keys in a darkened hall. Compared to the psychic, lock-on tracking of modern bodies, it feels downright pastoral. This, however, forces a slower, more methodical approach. You learn to anticipate, to use the focus stick’s delightful “clunk” to snap onto your subject. It’s photography, not radar-assisted targeting.

The Battery Life: One might charitably call it “artistic brevity.” You will buy extra batteries. You will think of them as rolls of film.

The Screen: It doesn’t flip out, selfie-style, or rotate to vlog. It tilts. Just a bit. It’s a nod to convenience from a company that believes you should probably just use the viewfinder anyway.

Relevance in 2026: The Antidote to Overwhelm

So why, amidst the technological marvels of 2026, does the X-Pro2 not just persist, but thrive? Because it is an antidote. It removes the pressure to chase technical perfection and replaces it with the joy of making an image that simply feels right. It’s a camera about the photograph, not the photography. It fits in the hand perfectly, makes a wonderfully muted shutter sound, and through that brilliant optical viewfinder, frames the world not as data to be captured, but as a scene to be composed.

The Fujifilm X-Pro2 is not the best camera by 2026’s metrics. But for a certain shooter—the one who values character over specs, mood over megapixels, and the sheer, unadulterated fun of making beautiful colour images—it remains, stubbornly and magnificently, the rightest camera. And that is a far greater achievement. Now, if you’ll excuse me, my battery just died. Again.

Compared to more modern counterparts:

And so, the natural progression occurs. You may find yourself seduced by the whispered perfection of a Leica M, its focusing patch a razor's edge in the viewfinder, or burdened—gloriously burdened—by the medium format majesty of a Hasselblad, where every file is a landscape unto itself. These are the cameras of consequence, of investment, both financial and emotional. And yet, nestled between them in your bag, its paint proudly chipped, will be the X-Pro2. It becomes the palate cleanser, the Sunday driver, the camera you grab when the act of photography needs to feel like a sketchbook, not a final draft. While the others demand a certain reverence, the Fuji demands only curiosity. It is the tool that reminds you, even after you've sipped from the finest chalices, that sometimes the most refreshing drink comes from the old, familiar, slightly dented flask.