Fun with Film: Fujicolor Reala 100

It would have done me a lot of good to simply listen and pay attention years ago.  A lot of good.

Before taking a break from shooting film, I predominantly shot slide film.  I really had a distaste for color negative film, finding the color palette of negative films to be lacking compared to the bold and vibrant colors of transparency film.  There were a few exceptions, such as the vivid Agfa Ultra 50 film, that were known departures from this rule  And while there were general purpose transparency films that had rich and vivid color renditions, there seemed no such thing on the print side of the house.

I recall hearing a decent amount of love for Fuji Reala 100 in particular as a print film with a very likelike vividness rendered in rich hues, but thought this simply meant it rendered accurate skin tones for portraiture, and feeling nothing in the way of loss that I'd neglected to give "yet another print film" at least one try.  

Upon ordering the last couple rolls of Agfa Ultra 50 from a favorite Etsy seller, I was greeted with a happy little bonus of a pair of rolls of Fuji Reala 100 tossed into the package. Thankful to have this bonus, but still not knowing much about the film, I tossed it in with the rest of my expired film and elected to just run the first roll through the Vivitar 5500PZ. This choice was not as much to test the film but to have some cheap color results to show from this camera.

I took the camera along with me on a few Spring outings and before long, I'd wrapped up this roll of film handily, dropping it into one of my home-developed batches of color film to await some results to scan and post, all the while expecting nothing terribly special in the way of results from this film that had been discontinued about a decade ago.  

But that would quickly change.  As the scans began to complete, I realized just what a phenomenal film this is.  Even a poorly done shot on Fuji Reala can look remarkably impressive when it contains a nice pop of color to draw in the eye.  With each additional scan, I realized that I really should have been more open minded regarding this film during the days when it was being made, as I'd almost instantly come to be remiss at its discontinuance. 

So without further delay, have a look at the Fuji film known as Reala, and join me in my sorrowful realization that this is yet one more amazing film that is all but unavailable today.  

It is a major irritation when your camera gives you an affirmative green light that your subject is in focus when it really is not.  Still, the color rendition of this film is nothing short of amazing, as seen here.

Trying not to GAF with the Memo EE

Ever shot a photo with one hand with the other bracing a pole?  Over a blind fence? Panning a moving subject due to a slow shutter speed? Or how about simply using a scale focus camera and no meter to shoot a roll of film?  

Sometimes one best shots are taken in situations where there may be little in the way of guidance or control.  And sometimes, photography can be at its most fun when it's not a cake walk of perfectly metered exposure and/or easy focusing.

In the Summer of last year, as my frugality was ramped up to about the same degree as my Gear Acquisition Syndrome, I stumbled across a cheap listing for a compact little rangefinder camera produced under the GAF name, and couldn't resist.  For about $14.50 total, I snapped up the GAF Memo EE rangefinder in unknown working condition and not knowing just what to expect from this model.

Admittedly, I knew I was flirting with danger with this pickup.  Unlike some compact rangefinder models of the 1960's and 1970's, the GAF does not offer a manual mode, so snapping one up in an "as-is" condition leaves one at the mercy of the longevity of the rather primitive electronics within its confines.  And neither that mercy nor any luck were on my side when the GAF arrived.  I discovered a dead meter in this budget pick up.

The particularly tiny GAF Memo EE is loosely related to the Konica C35, and also has some near-identical twins with various other nameplates. 

Super Sleeper: The Kodak Brownie Starflex

About the best barometer of a camera collector's affinity towards a particular example in his active collection would be the number of rolls of film that have passed through its chambers to produce images.  A camera that sees a single inaugural roll of film only to then sit and collect dust would certainly seem to be less favored than a model that has seen numerous rolls of film in the same amount of time.  

Given that I have a decent sized collection, it isn't too often that a particular example stays by my side for several months as a primary camera churning out roll after roll of film, so a camera that sees half a dozen rolls over the course of a year would admittedly be a well favored "high-use" camera for me.

Occasionally, I come to notice that a particular example in my collection has been called into use more than I would have guessed, seeming to indicate that I have a latent, almost subconscious liking of it that comes as a surprise to me.  I call these examples "Sleeper Cameras" as they possess some intangibles that seem to make them inexplicably endearing to me.   This is one of my very few examples of such a camera in my collection...

I'd more or less expected this little camera to be good for one roll and nothing more.  Nope!

Point and Shoot Pity Party Part 5: Pentax IQ Zoom 160

This is Part 5 of a recurring series on basic point and shoot consumer cameras, the details of which can be found here.

To be offered something for the cost of shipping is a tough thing to turn down, particularly when one has the tricky habit of adopting point and shoot cameras that few people want.  On a recent post of mine about my "Point and Shoot Pity Party," a kind reader offered to send me a few examples of point and shoot cameras languishing in his possession for the cost of shipping.  I got only a general idea of what was coming my way but thought the endeavor would certainly be fun.  Among the treasures in the box was the Pentax IQ Zoom 160, a late model mega-zoom P&S that was among the top tier among traditional point and shoots of its era.  I quickly took to this camera, and spoiled it on a Spring outing with some fresh Ektar film to see just what it might be able to do.  

Front View (open)

Top View (extended) - talk about overcompensating!

Through the decently sized viewfinder.  The bracket marks actually compress as you zoom out to assist in focusing. If you focus on a close object, the top of the viewfinder screen will grey out to assist with parallax correction.   

Name: Pentax IQ Zoom 160

Format: 35mm

Type: Autofocus Point and Shoot 

Year: 1999

Features: Fill Flash, Flash Off, Night Portrait, Bulb with and without flash, Self Timer, Remote Trigger, Multiple Exposure, Spot AF and Forced Infinity Focus, Backlit top LCD, Panorama Mask, Parallax Mask in VF, Red Eye Reduction Mode.

Lens: 35-160mm, f/4.5-12.0 (11 elements in 7 groups).
Battery: 1 CR-123 cell.
Manual: http://www.derrybryson.com/manuals/Pentax/35%20mm%20Point%20and%20Shoot/IQZoom160.pdf

Fun with Film: Cross Processed Ektachrome Elite 100

What two things will make me cross process slide film?  Well...

• Slide film that is expired and that I worry won't process accurately, and
• A mixed set of C-41 compatible chemistry from which I've gotten my desired rolls of color negative film developed. 

In these instances, the cost of running a roll of slide film through and processing it in the existing chemistry is really only a matter of one's time, and doesn't involve a financial outlay, so it's like the frosting on the cake.  

I had a 10 year old roll of Ektachrome Elite 100 that I put through my Ricoh 520M and dunked in the Unicolor chemistry.  Though it took a bit of trial and error to scan the results to a nice result, I managed to get some very vivid end products from this experimentation, that you can view below:

The rendition from this shot is reasonably close to life, aside from some pastel hues in the cooler end of the spectrum.

Ricoh Rarity: The 520M CDS Rangefinder

Rarity and value in the film camera collecting world can often have no seeming relationship.  One can head over to ebay and see a huge quantity of "rare" cameras for sale at the same time, and see people snapping them up at extreme prices.  And then there are those unknown models with truly small production runs that appear for sale only on rare occasion, and for a comparative song.  Witness the following:

Simply adorned but easily navigated, the Ricoh 520M CDS, occasionally seen as a model of the Sears 35RF, is an infrequently spotted example of mid-late 1960's rangefinder.

The camera model depicted here is Ricoh's 1966 vintage 520M CDS, and it is a surprisingly rare find on the film camera marketplace.  Head on over to eBay, Etsy, or Goodwill right now, and I can largely wager that you won't find one for sale. Heck, even searching the web for ANY mention of this camera model or its older sibling that lacks the "CDS" suffix will yield a pitifully modest bit of results.  As such this review for this rare camera that few seem to care much about is likely to sit about as the only formal review of this camera model on the web for some time, provided that late 1960's Japanese styling doesn't suddenly become the must have in late 2017, and the 520M CDS doesn't become the next big hipster thing.

I Find Your Lack of Faith Disturbing: The Konica Aiborg

May the Fourth be with you!

The glittering black camera sat on the nearby shelf, awaiting its first use by me.  A generous loaner from Mike Eckman, it awaited a roll of film for an initial trial. And as I glanced at it, the tag line above from the classic space trilogy kept ringing in my head.

Where does one buy an Aiborg?  In the Darth Maul (sic) of course! 

Normally, the benevolent gift of a loaner camera is one met with great excitement, but my excitement was tempered by a large dose of skepticism.  Not only had I read Mike's excellent review in which he candidly shared his frustrations with this camera, but as I took my initial glances at the form factor of this camera, I could only seem to feel confusion regarding its operation.

In a film camera world where we often lament the degree of sameness evident across different models from different makers, the Aiborg does stand out as truly unique, but it is this uniqueness that helps make it feel intimidating.  Add in the "Death Star" styling and dizzying array of buttons, and the result is a "point and shoot" camera that feels like a far more complex and challenging machine than most of its genre.