But for new and would-be medium format photographers, the ever-shifting landscape of the hobby can be a bit daunting. Of the hundreds of available medium format cameras, how can we possible know which is the one to buy?

We answered this very question in a pair of articles, the first published way back in 2016 and another in 2019. Five years on, they could do for an update. So, here’s the update.

I’ve meticulously selected five of the best medium format cameras that one can buy today, each with its own unique reason for being. Since we’re just starting out, the cameras are arranged by type, which will help would-be users who may not know what they want. I’ve also tried to keep the cameras on this list limited to those with reasonable prices. (I break this rule only once.)

Enjoy!

For old school sophistication, buy a Minolta TLR

Twin Lens Reflex (TLR) cameras; one glance and we know we’re holding an old world piece of machinery. They’re as much jewelry as they are highly functional photographic tools, and I mean that in the best way possible — TLRs are gorgeous, and can make gorgeous photos.

TLRs have two major features which differentiate them from most other cameras. First, they shoot square images. Second, they have two lenses, one which acts as a focusing screen viewfinder through which the photographer looks to frame the shot, and a second lens which is used to actually expose the film.

The viewfinder of a TLR is typically located on the top of the camera. The photographer peers down into it while holding the camera at waist-level. Since there’s no penta-prism as we find in most SLR cameras, the image in the viewfinder can be a bit disorienting for new shooters. But stick with it and we’re able to enjoy a unique and engaging perspective.

The most popular TLRs in the world are the famed Rolleiflex and Rolleicord TLRs. However, these camera are quite expensive today, loved for their extremely high build quality and classic characterful lenses. For new shooters looking to try a TLR, I have two recommendations.

If you’re looking for a classic TLR with a capable lens, high build quality, bright and accurate focusing screen, and easy-to-learn all-manual controls, buy the Minolta Autocord. Throughout the 1950s and 1960s, Minolta made about a dozen different Autocord models, some with light meters and some without.

Avoid buying the Autocord L and the Autocord LMX, since these models used a selenium light meter (which in modern times will almost certainly be dead). If you require a camera with a built-in light meter, seek out the Autocord CDS II or CDS III, the only Autocords with built-in battery-powered CdS meters (these meters don’t die from age, like the selenium ones do).

An all-manual meter-less Autocord can be purchased today for under $250, and if we’re patient and careful, it’s possible to find one for under $100. I can’t overstate the value proposition of a camera this good at a price this low.

Read my full review of the Autocord here, and then shop for one on eBay.

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HONORABLE MENTION : Much of what I wrote about Minolta’s TLRs can be equally applied to Yashica’s TLRs. Yashica made a number of incredibly reliable, capable TLR cameras, some of which are all-manual and some of which come with light meters. Indeed, an article on this very site has gone into great detail to spotlight the Yashica TLR as a perfect first medium format film camera.

The most popular Yashica TLR is the Yashicamat 124 G, a truly gorgeous and capable camera. By the specs and the results, the Yashica and Minolta TLRs are essentially equal. I picked the Minolta because they’re less popular, and therefore less expensive today.

For those who love SLRs, Buy the Pentax 645

The Pentax 645 is quintessential Pentax. It’s affordable, easy to use and delivers quality images. It was marketed toward amateur photographers shooting their first weddings and those just breaking into the professional world. Which means it’ll be more than good enough for the brand new medium format photographer.

It offers center-weighted metering with full auto Program mode, plus semi-auto Aperture and Shutter Priority modes, as well as full manual mode. ISO ranges in 1/3 stops from 6 – 6,400 with shutter speeds of 15 seconds to 1/1,000th of a second, plus bulb mode for long exposures. Its motor drive is capable of 1.5 frames per second, which allows us to blow through a whole roll in just twenty seconds (kind of absurd).

The viewfinder has a lovely LED display. In manual mode it shows how many stops we are from a perfect exposure, which it indicates with an encouraging “Ok!” If we use the exposure compensation, a very tiny plus sign will light up when compensation is engaged. Nice touches.

It’s a relatively small and light camera, for medium format, and benefits from a truly astonishing line-up of interchangeable lenses.

All of these features combine to create a camera which, essentially, can do anything any new medium format film shooter could ever ask of a camera.

The Pentax 645 has undergone two facelifts over time: the 645N in 1996 and the 645NII in 2001. The 645N was a complete overhaul which added a more sophisticated interface, auto-focus, and matrix metering. The later 645NII added mirror-lock up. Both the N and NII are much more professional-oriented cameras, but that comes at a price. They cost double or triple the cost of an original 645.

For budget-conscious film photographers looking for a solid medium format SLR camera, the original Pentax 645 is it. Importantly, it also leaves enough money left over to buy the most important ingredient for growth – lots and lots of film.

Read all about the Pentax 645 in our article here, and then buy one on eBay here.

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HONORABLE MENTION : The Mamiya 645 series of cameras can be very similar to the Pentax 645. The oldest version of the Mamiya is a full-manual camera, but later models offer various degrees of semi-auto and full-auto shooting modes. Prices on these start at the same level as the Pentax, but climb significantly with the spec sheet. The Mamiya was not my first choice because the Pentax is typically cheaper.

For effortless photography, buy the Fujifilm GA645

The Fujifilm GA645 is a very special, and very modern camera. Made in 1995, it is essentially a point-and-shoot medium format film camera that makes shooting medium format as easy as… well, pointing and shooting.

Focus is automatic. Film advance and rewind are automatic. Exposure is automatic, semi-automatic, or full manual. It’s compact and portable, making it a great choice for travelers or street photographers. It even has a built-in flash. Shooting this thing is like shooting the most capable point-and-shoot film camera ever made. It’s the Canon Sure Shot of medium format!

The 60mm f/4 Fujinon Super EBC lens creates stunning images. A variant called the GA645W is fitted with a wider 45mm f/5.6 lens, though this camera tends to be more expensive than the original GA645.

The only major issue with the Fuji is that it’s relatively expensive. Indeed, it’s the most expensive camera on this list. However, there really are no other alternatives for people seeking a fully-automated point-and-shoot medium format film camera, and this one is a true wonder of modern photographic engineering. As Aldo Gucci once said, quality is remembered long after price is forgotten.

Buy your own Fuji GA645 on eBay.

Fujifilm GA645 for sale | eBay

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For medium format on a budget, buy an old folder

Contrary to oft-repeated opinion, it is in fact possible to buy a compact, high quality medium format film camera with a stunning lens for under $150. And I don’t mean a Holga (don’t buy a Holga). We just need to know what to look for.

Medium format folding cameras are the best kept open secret in the medium format world. Collectors and “the olds” have known about them for decades, and we can often find these photographic saints spreading the good word of folding cameras as far as their Facebook groups’ organic reach will allow.

Medium format folding cameras are essentially simple, light tight machines with shutter and lens assemblies mounted to the front of a collapsible bellows. The lens, shutter, and bellows are typically protected by a folding door, which can fold open to extend the whole business into the position needed to make a photo.

When closed, they are incredibly compact (I once used one during a vacation in Disney World). When opened for use, they can make incredible images in a variety of image formats (6 x 6, 6 x 7, and 6 x 9 are most popular).

The downside to these cameras is that they’re all manual and often lacking in any sort of focusing aids. This means that we’ll need to understand light or carry a light meter, set our aperture and shutter speed manually, and even focus by eye using the scale focus method (estimate distance to subject, set that number on the lens, and hope for the best). For this reason alone, medium format folders are not necessarily a great choice for beginner photographers. But for those who know what they’re doing in the 35mm space, the price is low enough to justify the risk.

Medium format folding cameras were made by plenty of companies – Zeiss, Agfa, Kodak, and more. Which means that their are plenty to choose from. The big peril in buying a folding camera is that we need to make sure we’re buying one that’s fully functional.

As a result of their age and their rather delicate design, folding medium format camera can be a bit fragile. When looking to buy one, make sure that the bellows are free of leaks and pinholes, ensure that the lens elements are free of haze and fungus, and confirm that the shutter and aperture function as they should.

The models that I would seek out are the Agfa Isolette, Super Fujica 6, or the Zeiss Ikonta.

medium format folding camera for sale | eBay

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For the biggest possible negative, buy a Fuji Panorama G617

I admit, this final addition to my list is a bit tongue-in-cheek. Nobody should buy this camera as their first medium format camera, and it shouldn’t be on this list. But it’s been so long since I was able to write about the G617, and I really want to do so.

Because there’s simply no other camera like the Fuji Panorama G617.

The biggest selling point for the G617 is hinted at in the name; the enormous image area. Measuring a truly massive 6 x 17 centimeters (2.25 x 6.5 inches) in a 3:1 aspect ratio, the G617 is capable of exposing unbelievably large swathes of film. First produced in 1983, it was intended to be a specialty tool for landscape and architectural photographers who were looking to expose gigantic negatives in a relatively portable camera.

It features a fixed Fujinon 105mm F/8 lens providing a diagonal angle of view of 80.3º (the approximate equivalent angle of view of a 25.8mm lens in the 35mm format). The lens’ aperture spans from a maximum aperture of F/8 to a minimum of F/45, and this sits behind a Made-in-Japan Seiko No. 0 inter-lens leaf shutter capable of speeds from 1 second to as fast as 1/500th of a second, with additional Bulb mode for long exposures and flash sync at all speeds.

Focusing is handled via the scale focus system, film advance is achieved via a thumb-powered advance lever on the top plate, and aperture and shutter speed are all adjusted via rings or levers on the lens. Multiple exposures are possible by resetting the shutter with the lens-mounted lever and firing it again via the release on the lens without advancing the film between shots.

Essentially, that’s all there is to the Fuji G617. It’s just a gorgeous specialty camera made for creating super-wide, extremely massive images on medium format film. And if you want to see what it can do, check out my review here.

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A classic camera shop specializing in cameras and lenses, film, collectible cameras, medium format, 35mm, and some digital. The retail side of Casual Photophile.

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The post These are the Best Medium Format Film Cameras for Beginners appeared first on Casual Photophile.

I’ve been using the Adox 300 off and on for a number of months in various shooting conditions with all varieties of film. The results have been a mix of good and decent, with a few bad frames brought about by the camera’s inherent weaknesses and the inherent challenge of shooting a seventy-year-old all-manual camera.

It hasn’t been an easy thing to load, to hold, to shoot, or to love, but at the end of my time with it I’ve decided that I do indeed love it, in a certain way. It’s a charming, interesting, challenging camera, and for camera-likers like me who enjoy weird, old cameras, the Adox feels just right.

Brief History of Adox and the Origin of the Adox 300

The German company which would eventually come to be known as Adox was founded in 1860 as Dr C. Schleussner Fotowerke GmbH by the eponymous Dr. Carl Schleussner.

The company was initially engaged in the development of pharmaceuticals, but when the English photographer and physician Dr. Richard Leach Maddox invented the lightweight gelatin negative dry plate for photography in 1871, Dr. Schleussner became interested in refining and adapting the new technology to other industries.

The Schleussner laboratory transformed into a factory, and soon the company was a foremost producer of gelatin emulsion dry plates. A later collaboration with physicist Conrad Wilhelm Rontgen resulted in the development of X-ray plates, and another new revenue stream for Schleussner’s company.

Carl Schleussner died in 1899, but his company lived on and became a major producer of photo chemicals, film, and black-and-white paper, all sold under the Adox brand name.

In the 1920s, Adox created a small number of cameras in various formats, including 6 x 4.5, 6 x 6, 6 x 9 folders, box cameras, and 127 film cameras. Later, when the founders of the Wirgin camera company were forced to flee Nazi Germany in the 1930s, Adox acquired the designs for Wirgin’s cameras and began selling them as rebranded Adox cameras. (After World War II, these designs were re-purchased by Henry Wirgin.) Following the war, Adox began designing and producing their own cameras once more, resulting in a small number of 35mm film cameras.

All told, the Adox name only ever appeared on fewer than 30 models. Of these, the most unique, most unusual, and (arguably) the best of the brand’s 35mm cameras was the Adox 300 of 1956.

Specifications of the Adox 300

• Camera Type: Viewfinder 35mm film camera with interchangeable film magazines
• Lens: Schneider Kreuznach 45mm f/2.8 Xenar coated (4 elements) or Steinheil Cassar 45mm f/2.8 (3 elements)
• Shutter: Compur-Rapid leaf shutter or Synchro-Compur leaf shutter
• Shutter Speeds: 1/500 to 1 second, bulb mode for long exposures
• Focus: Manual focus only, scale focusing only
• Viewfinder: Simple viewfinder, no frame lines or focusing aids
• Exposure Meter: Uncoupled Selenium cell light meter with top plate display in EV
• Additional Features: Cold shoe for flash mounting, X flash sync cable; Self-timer; Remote shutter release via cable; Film frame counter display window
• Weight: 850 grams

What is the Adox 300

According to the spec sheet, the Adox 300 is a rather simple camera. It’s a fixed-lens viewfinder camera with scale focusing, a fairly standard lens and shutter combination, an uncoupled selenium light meter, and not much else (with the exception of that one unique feature previously mentioned).

It belongs in that same class of camera with so many others which were being produced in Germany and Europe throughout the 1950s and ’60s. Simple, all manual, well-built, and capable. Cameras that were made for a new class of enthusiastic amateur photographer, everyday people who were seeking to capture images of their lives, vacations, and travels with family.

In this way, it’s quite typical for its time. However when we get the Adox in the hands we find a camera that’s bizarre and interesting in some ways, and almost totally unique in others. It’s a fun thing, stretching far beyond its spec sheet.

The first unusual feature is its shutter advance and film wind mechanism. A large ring surrounds the lens barrel, from which extends a lever which is plunged downward to advance the film and cock the shutter. This lever actuates beautifully with a mechanical ratcheting that’s satisfying in both a tactile and auditory way. Two strokes are required to set the camera from rest mode to ready-to-fire mode, after which we can press the top-mounted shutter release button, same as on most cameras.

Another odd feature is the transparent window we find on the top plate of the camera. This transparent window provides a view through the top of the camera and into the film compartment, where the interchangeable film magazines live when we’re exposing film. On each magazine is a mechanical film frame counter wheel, which spins with exposures. By looking through the window on the top of the camera we’re able to see how many shots are left on a roll.

This frame counter feature is, of course, found on most film cameras. The way it’s implemented here, however, is virtually novel.

A Camera Like Clockwork - Zeiss Ikon Contina Ic Camera Review

Zeiss Ikon’s Contina Ic is everything I love about vintage cameras. Functionally elegant, mechanically sophisticated, simple; it’s the kind of camera that works, sounds, and feels like clockwork. It’s a tangible link to a romantic past and an older continent, evidenced by the Swiss retailer’s identification seal found inside my example’s film compartment – Photo House, Amrein-Graf, 27 Quai des Bergues, Genève. Most important of all, it’s a machine that’s entirely capable of making excellent photos more than sixty years after it shipped from the factory. Don’t get me wrong, this camera is not a camera to replace the average […]

And then there’s the main event, the film magazines themselves. 35mm film cameras with interchangeable film magazines are few, indeed. I can think of only three or four in the history of the medium which offered this feature (the ridiculous, fragile, and expensive Kodak Ektra, which I shot during a tour of the Kodak factory, is one such camera – others include the Mamiya Magazine 35 and the Zeiss Ikon Contaflex SLR). Interchangeable film magazines allow the user to swap film at any time, at will, without the need to totally finish or rewind a roll before unloading.

Here’s how it works.

The roll of film is loaded into the removable film magazine, a separate metal object totally removed from the camera itself. The magazine includes a built-in mechanical dark slide, a sort of second shutter which prevents the film inside the magazine from being exposed. We then drop this magazine into the back of the open Adox 300, within which it integrates with indexing posts and rotating screw drives. These drives open the dark slide and turn the wheels which advance the film.

If at any point we wish to swap out the roll of film we’re currently shooting in favor of another type (let’s say we’re shooting black-and-white and we wish to switch to color, but the roll of black-and-white isn’t yet finished) we simply rotate the film door opening lever on the bottom of the camera, which slots the dark slide back in place and allows us to remove the film magazine without exposing the loaded roll of film. We can then load and drop in another magazine and get right back to shooting.

The magazine system that the Adox 300 uses is in fact the very best of the systems that I’ve used in a 35mm camera. It’s even more elegant than the film backs and magazines of some medium format film cameras, a format in which this sort of magazine technology is almost universal in its implementation.

But just because it works well, doesn’t necessarily make it a compelling feature. Interchangeable film magazines are interesting, yes, from the perspective of a camera nerd shooting the Adox seventy years later. But the key feature of the Adox 300 is not (and was never) really as useful as Adox’s engineers may have hoped. And there’s the price. When new, the nicely built Adox 300 and its novel, highly-engineered film magazines was quite expensive.

Perhaps this combination of high cost and niche utility is why the Adox 300 sold poorly and was discontinued after just a few years, and why the planned Adox 500, a more advanced version of the 300 with interchangeable lenses, an improved viewfinder, and rangefinder focusing, never entered production.

Touring the Kodak Factory with a Nikon Z7 and a Kodak Ektra

James takes a tour of the Kodak campus in Rochester, New York, and shoots it with the brand new Nikon Z7 and an ancient Kodak Ektra film camera.

User Experience

In the hands, the Adox feels nice. It’s larger than most similar cameras of its day, which can probably be attributed to the need to fit the interchangeable magazines into the camera. But despite the size, it doesn’t weigh much more than comparably specced cameras. It fits in the hands nicely, and feels balanced with its compact, stubby lens.

All of the camera’s exposure controls (shutter speed selector, aperture ring, and focus control) are located on rings around the lens barrel. Like many camera’s of its era, the Adox 300 works with the Exposure Value (EV) control system. What this means is that the aperture and shutter speed rings are actually linked, and move in reciprocal increments.

Here’s how it’s supposed to work.

The photographer would take a meter reading to determine the appropriate shutter speed and aperture for the scene’s light. We can then set our rings to those settings by pressing a button on the aperture control ring and setting the rings independently. After that, if we desire a different aperture for a certain depth-of-field, or a different shutter speed to capture motion or freeze our subject, we can change either setting and the reciprocal setting will change automatically to retain a proper exposure.

This system works well in situations in which the light doesn’t change much. And when it does change, we can change our settings individually to fine tune our exposures.

The EV system controls work in conjunction with the camera’s built-in selenium light meter. Point the camera at the scene to be photographed, press the meter activation switch on the upper left-side back of the camera, take a meter reading, and set our speed and aperture. This built-in meter is not linked to the camera’s shutter speed or aperture, so it’s there simply to give us an idea of the available light. (Incidentally, my camera’s light meter does not work – a common occurrence with selenium meters.)

The viewfinder is essentially two pieces of glass, with nothing else to offer. There’s no information display, no meter reading, it doesn’t even have frame lines to show the camera’s image area. It quite literally is simply two pieces of glass. The rearmost piece of glass is quite small, too, and framed in metal. It scratched my glasses quite badly – very annoying.

There’s a cold shoe on the top of the camera to mount a flash, which I never used. A shutter release cable socket sits in the middle of the nicely knurled shutter release button, which I never used. And there’s a self-timer mounted in the shutter of the camera, which I never used.

Adox 300 camera for sale | eBay

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Focusing is handled by scale focusing. The ring around the lens can be spun easily to the distance markings (mine are listed in meters, while other Adox 300s have distances listed in feet). Since there are no focusing aids, such as rangefinder or focusing screens, we need to be good at estimating distances. I was able to do this pretty well, though that could change entirely if I’m shooting after a bad night’s sleep.

The lens is nice, typical of Schneider-Kreuznach lenses of its era. It’s sharp and resolves details very well, especially in the center of the frame, while leaving some classical softness to creep around the edges. Close-focused images actually present some interesting bokeh when shooting wide open, and when the lens is stopped down to f/8 in bright light, the image is sharp from edge to edge.

One important note for anyone seeking to actually use this camera, and a lesson I learned after shooting my first roll, is that when the roll of film is finished, often we will be midway through actuating the advance lever. This happens with cameras all the time – we reach the end of the roll and the shutter advance lever locks halfway through its cycle. Usually, this is no big deal. We simply press the rewind button on the camera and rewind the film, or the camera does it automatically for us if we’re using a camera with automatic film advance and rewind.

With the Adox 300, however, things are more complicated.

Because of the camera’s interchangeable magazines, when the film advance lever locks halfway through its cycle, the camera is entirely locked up. We can’t remove the magazine to rewind the film. The solution is a tiny lever on the back of the camera. We push this lever up, and we’re able to complete the camera’s cocking cycle. After that, we can open the camera and remove the magazine.

It’s a small detail, but it had me totally stumped for a few minutes when I’d finished my first roll. Suddenly the Adox 300 was no longer a camera. It was a mechanical puzzle box from some ancient, inscrutable lost civilization. Luckily, I had the owner’s manual in my office.

Final Thoughts

My time with the Adox 300 has been enjoyable and surprising. But the feeling that I’m left with is one bordering on disappointment. I wish that the camera had been more successful so that Adox had continued with their line of cameras. I wish that they’d made the Adox 500, because an Adox 300 with rangefinder focusing and interchangeable lenses would have been a legendary camera. Alas, this was not to be.

As it is, the Adox 300 is a weird and interesting camera. It offers old-world build quality with a splash of uniqueness brought through its implementation of a rare and novel feature. It’s a rare camera, ideal for collectors and people who love to own and shoot the most unusual machines. On top of that, it’s also a good image-maker. Its lens is sharp and offers classic, imperfect rendering, and the camera’s size, weight, and design land it happily in the hands.

All told, the Adox 300 is a beautiful, interesting camera. Simple as that.

Adox 300 camera for sale | eBay

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F Stop Cameras

A classic camera shop specializing in cameras and lenses, film, collectible cameras, medium format, 35mm, and some digital. The retail side of Casual Photophile.

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[Some of the links in this article will direct users to our affiliates at B&H Photo, Amazon, and eBay. By purchasing anything using these links, Casual Photophile may receive a small commission at no additional charge to you. This helps Casual Photophile produce the content we produce. Many thanks for your support.]

The post Adox 300 Review – a 35mm Film Camera with Interchangeable Film Magazines appeared first on Casual Photophile.

On the other hand, it has Rolleiflex written on it. Which means it’s heavy and big. It’s clunky and clumsy. It’s limited to all manual mode. And we could buy a better Japanese camera for less.

All of that is true. Don’t argue. Rollei fan or not, accept it. Rollei’s are great, but by nearly every metric, the Japanese cameras are better.

But that’s not to say that shooting the Rolleiflex SL35M is an unpleasant experience, or that buying one is foolish, or that owning one isn’t a joy. The Rollei SL35M is a lovely camera with plenty of upside, and I just ended a week of shooting one happy to have had the experience.

Origin of the Rollei SL35M

Despite a gentleman’s agreement between the founders of Hasselblad and Rollei that precluded each brand from manufacturing the core product of the other (Hasselblad focused on SLRs while Rollei concentrated on TLRs), Rollei did eventually branch out to create more camera types.

They made medium format SLRs to compete (somewhat ineffectually) with Hasselblad, 16mm compact cameras (for spies?), and a well-loved compact for 35mm film (easily the most successful of their non-TLR designs). Beginning in the 1970s and continuing into the ‘90s, they even made a range of 35mm SLRs.

Rolleiflex SL66 Camera Review

The first medium format SLR camera that Rollei produced, the Rolleiflex SL66, is one of the more interesting cameras I've ever shot.

Rollei 35 SE - Camera Review

The compact 35mm Rollei camera, probably the most successful of the brand's attempts to branch out from the niche they'd carved with their world-leading TLRs.

While none of the cameras outside of their TLR lineup ever really caught fire, in the commercial sense, they weren’t bad cameras. Rollei simply struggled to keep up with the extremely successful, efficient, and well-funded Japanese camera companies. And it was no different with the SL35 series.

Beginning with Nikon’s F in 1959, amateur and professional photographers alike had spent a decade flocking to the SLR camera by the time Rollei got involved. Their first 35mm SLR, the Rolleiflex SL35, was introduced in 1970, quite late in the competition. With this camera Rollei intended to offer high end Rollei-engineering to the fastest-growing group of customers in photography.

The SL35 was an all-mechanical, full manual camera with a new Rollei bayonet lens mount and a cloth focal plane shutter. The shutter was capable of speeds up to 1/1000^th of a second, and it featured a through-the-lens light meter with a match-needle display in the fixed viewfinder.

Real camera nerds would read that last paragraph and say, “Alright. Decent specs.” Unfortunately, I left out a key detail.

The SL35’s TTL light meter was outdated the moment the camera launched, because the light meter only registered a reading when the lens aperture was closed. Even in 1970, this was old tech. Japanese SLRs had long before established wide-open aperture light metering as the baseline methodology of any decent SLR.

Four years later Rollei updated the camera to include wide-open aperture metering. The new model also added a built-in accessory shoe. This new camera was called the Rollei SL350. Today, the SL350 is far less common than other models in the SL line, and is therefore more expensive.

Rollei finally had a 35mm SLR with the features that people expected. And then Rollei’s SLR lineup went through some big changes.

The domination of the camera industry by the Japanese companies didn’t only impact Rollei. Other German camera makers were feeling similar pressure.

In 1972, the German company Zeiss Ikon AG Stuttgart succumbed, and the brand decided to end camera production to focus on lens manufacturing (for which they were world-renowned). As a part of this liquidation, Zeiss’ brand names (of which Voigtlander was one), their designs, factories, and research were sold or transferred to other entities.

The Voigtlander brand name and some of Zeiss designs were acquired at this time by Rollei. This acquisition included the latest of Zeiss’ 35mm SLR designs, a camera called the SL706. Rollei planned to take this camera and introduce it as a new model using the Voigtlander name. Rollei also intended to continue production of their own 35mm SLRs, the SL35 and the SL350.

But there was a problem. The camera inherited from Zeiss used the Universal Screw Mount, or M42, lens system. Rollei’s SL35 and SL350, on the other hand, used Rollei’s own bayonet mount lens system (known as the QBM). Maintaining production of both lines of cameras meant that Rollei would need to produce their lenses under two mount systems. As a small player in a big market, this made little sense, so Rollei made the decision to end their own camera in favor of Zeiss’ design, but to preserve their bayonet lens mount.

In 1976, production of Rollei’s SL35 and SL350 was ended, and the former Zeiss camera was adopted and developed to use the Rollei QBM bayonet lenses. This new camera would be released under the Voigtlander name as the VSL1, and under Rollei’s own name as the Rolleiflex SL35M.

In that same year, Rollei also released the Voigtlander VSL2 Automatic and the SL35ME, which added automatic exposure through the aperture-priority methodology.

In 1978, A final SL camera called the Voigtlander VSL 3-E and the Rolleiflex SL35 would add a new electronic shutter and LED indicators in the viewfinder, to replace the earlier cameras’ match-needle display. This camera could also use an external winder and motor drive.

In 1981, Rollei went bankrupt, and their SL line ended while they focused on other products.

Specifications of the Rollei SL35M

• Camera Type : 35mm Film, 24x36mm image area (full frame)
  
• Exposure Modes : Manual Only
• Metering : Through the lens metering with CdS cells, Center-weighted full-field measurement
• Viewfinder : Penta-prism, instant return mirror. Focusing screen with diagonal focus indicator, micro-prism ring, and ground glass Fresnel lens
• Viewfinder Information : Aperture indicator, metering range limit indicator, light meter needle
• Lens Mount : Rollei QBM (Quick Bayonet Mount)
• Shutter : Horizontally moving cloth focal plane
• Shutter speeds : Bulb, 1 – 1/1000 seconds
• Flash Mount : X and FP switch-over flash sync at 1/40 of a second for center contact and cable contact
• Weight : 895 grams (with 50mm F/1.8 lens)

Using the Rollei SL35M Today

The Rollei SL35M is nothing more than a basic camera from the 1970s. It has the same specs as dozens of other models from Minolta, Canon, Nikon, Pentax, Mamiya, Ricoh, Olympus, and others. There’s nothing here that can’t be found elsewhere, except maybe that QBM lens mount. And that’s nothing too special.

The controls are quintessential “classic camera” fare. Shutter speed is controlled via a dial on the top. It’s positioned next to the shutter release and thumb lever for film advance. There’s a rewind knob opposite and an ISO selector beneath that. On the front we find a self-timer lever, lens release button, and a depth-of-field preview plunger for manually closing the lens aperture. The back has a film frame counter, a hinged film compartment door, and a viewfinder to look through. The bottom is where the battery goes, there’s a tripod socket, and there’s a button to press when rewinding the film.

If you’re the kind of photo geek who’s used a classic 1970s 35mm SLR, you’ll acclimate to the Rollei within literal seconds. If you’re new to film, this is an easy camera with which to learn.

Though basic, things at least feel excellent. The dials and knobs and levers all function beautifully. True to Rollei standards, everything actuates with mechanical surety. There’s significant resistance in the film transport as we cock the advance lever, and the mirror and shutter fire definitively when we press the shutter release.

The viewfinder is nice and bright. It’s contained within a fixed penta-prism and shows a focusing screen with a focusing micro-prism band in the center surrounding a diagonally oriented split image rangefinder patch, which interestingly splits into three sections and not the usual two. The light meter needle is positioned on the right-hand side, and swings well when the exposure parameters are within its field of register. The top of the VF shows the currently selected lens aperture, while the selected shutter speed is not displayed.

Throughout my time with the Rollei there were no surprises. Film loading was fine, and normal. The viewfinder worked beautifully. There’s nothing tricky about the lens mount. Film advance and firing were standard, though it does vibrate with mirror slap, making longer exposures a bit shakier than I’ve found with other cameras. The light meter works well enough.

I never used the self-timer because, frankly, the less time I spend in front of a camera the better. And I never used the depth-of-field preview because I don’t need to preview depth-of-field. I tested these functions, and they worked as one would expect, but they didn’t factor in my picture-making.

The Lenses

With any interchangeable lens camera system, like this Rollei, it’s arguable that the lenses are more important than the camera. I believe that to be true, anyway.

Despite this importance, when writing about an interchangeable lens camera it’s almost irrelevant to talk about specific lenses, since I’ve not used every lens for the system, and since every lens performs differently. That said, when reviewing interchangeable lens cameras, I always touch upon the range of available lenses and upon any obvious strengths or weaknesses in the line. So, briefly, let’s do that.

Rollei’s SL35M uses, as mentioned, Rollei’s QBM lens mount. This means that any QBM mount lens will naturally mount to the camera. However, it should be noted that lenses made for the earlier SL35 and SL350 will only meter in stop-down metering mode, which means that photographers using older lenses on the newer SL35M will have to use the camera’s depth-of-field preview lever to achieve an accurate meter reading.

That detail noted, the range of available lenses for the QBM system is full. Most of the lenses were made by Carl Zeiss, but there are also a range of Schneider lenses, as well as Rollei lenses.

The range of available Carl Zeiss prime lenses begins with a 15mm Distagon and climbs right up to a 1000mm Tele-Tessar. Spattered throughout are specialty lenses with fast apertures (the 35mm F/1.4 Distagon, the 50mm F/1.4 Planar, and the 85mm F/1.4 Planar), fisheye lenses (a 16mm F/2.8 F-Distagon), and mirror lenses (both a 500mm and 1000mm Mirotar).

Outside of Zeiss primes we fine Schneider primes in 35mm, 50mm, 135mm focal lengths, and two perspective control shift lenses in the 35mm PC Curtagon and 28mm PC Super Angulon.

Rollei offered their own prime lens range as well, starting with a 14mm fisheye and reaching up to a 500mm mirror lens. In addition, Rollei produced two macro lenses for their QBM, as well as a full range of zoom lenses, starting with a 28-80mm zoom and progressing up to a maximum zoom embodied in their 50-250mm lens.

All told, there are approximately fifty QBM lenses available from these three manufacturers, more than enough to satisfy the needs of film shooters today.

I repeat, I’ve not used every lens in this system. I doubt anyone has. However I wouldn’t hesitate to measure these lenses up against their era-correct equivalent competitors. I have faith in Zeiss and Schneider and Rollei to make glass equal to Nikon, Canon, Leica, etc.

[Sample images from some expired film (why do I keep doing this to myself?). Your results will be better and varied, depending on which lens you use.]

What I Learned Shooting My Vacation on (Expired) Film

Some lessons are learned the easy way and some are a bit more painful. Here's everything that I learned shooting my vacation on film.

A Few Words on Singapore

I’ve noticed over the years (and specifically noticed again while researching the SL series of cameras) that many other camera likers who like cameras enough to make their job writing or talking about them have at times poo-pooed the Rollei SL35M and other Rollei models for the sin of having not been manufactured in Rollei’s glorious motherland of Germany. Which is correct. The SL35M and the cameras that came after it weren’t made in Germany. They were made in Singapore.

Does this bother me?

I’ve never been to Germany. I’ve never been to Singapore. I wasn’t even born when Rollei went bankrupt in 1981. I have no idea what the conditions in those countries are today, nor what they were when the camera was made, nor how the factories were run, nor how dedicated the staff of each factory was to the creation of a good product.

In a lifetime of labor, however, I’ve noticed that most people employed at a good job tend, in order to keep that job, to do the best job that they can. I assume that the jobs within Rollei factories regardless of their geographical location, Germany or Singapore, were considered good jobs by those who held them. Consequently I suspect that the people making Rollei cameras did a good job making them, regardless of where they were on the planet and regardless of whether they were named Franz or Wei.

I’d caution against listening to anyone’s opinion on the topic of products of the same design by the same manufacturer made in Country A versus Country B, unless they can tell you the name of the man or woman in both country’s factories who swept the floors on Wednesdays and what the lunch canteen served on Fridays.

The unfortunate habit of hobbyists in many hobbies to fawn over one country’s workforce while maligning another country’s workforce is simply soft-core jingoism.

My Made in Singapore Rollei works great.

Closing Thoughts and Should You Buy?

If you’ve reached this point in the article, you’re one of two types of camera nerd; the Thinkers, and the Lovers.

The Thinkers will be people who like cameras, but only buy the best, or only buy the cameras that help them achieve their goals in photography. Thinkers will have read the piece, appreciated the history, enjoyed the photos of a camera that they’ll never own, left a nice comment about my excellent writing (right?) and moved on with their lives.

The Lovers are different. And there’s an easy way to tell if you’re one of them.

Did you feel a flutter in your chest when you saw the picture of the Rollei at the head of this article? Did you feel an unyielding urge to hold one? Have you already opened additional browser tabs? Is one of them eBay? Did you already search for an SL35M, just to see the price? Did you already check your account balance? Did you, in fact, already buy one?

If you answered any of those questions in the affirmative, you’re a Lover. You love cameras and you want them all, even if the one you want isn’t necessarily better than the ones you’ve got.

So, should you buy a Rollei SL35M?

If you’re a Thinker, if you care about taking pictures more than you care about owning beautiful cameras, then you should not buy one. There are much better cameras than the Rollei. More important, there are much better cameras that cost much less than the Rollei. Any Japanese SLR, for example, from almost any decade. Any $40 Canon EOS. Any Nikon N series, or Nikon F series. Any Minolta SLR. The list could go on for decades (and in fact, it did, long after Rollei stopped making SLs).

But if you’re a Lover, well, you’ve already checked eBay and homed in on the one that’s meant to be. So, go for it. Buy it. The Rollei SL35M is a beautiful camera and a wonderful creation. It’s well made, makes all the right noises, is fun to use, and makes great pictures. You’ll love it as much as you love every other camera in your collection. Which is, a lot.

Buy your own Rollei SL35M on eBay

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The Ihagee Exa is a fully-mechanical, interchangeable-lens 35mm SLR. But that’s a bit like saying the Volkswagen Beetle is a flat-four engine, two-door compact car. We get the facts, but not the essence of the thing itself. To better understand this weird and wonderful camera, let’s start with Ihagee, the company that made it.

Ihagee : The Early Years

A few years ago, when I had only a passing interest in vintage cameras, I don’t think I had even heard of Ihagee. Nevertheless, the company has an important place in photographic history.

Ihagee (pronounced Ee-haa-gay) was founded in 1912 in Dresden, East Germany by a Dutchman named Johan Steenbergen. Steenbergen’s father, a prosperous draper, wanted him to join the textile trade, but young Johan was more interested in photography. At the age of just 25, he founded Industrie und Handelsgesellschaft mbH, with his mother and himself as shareholders. The original company name, as you may have noticed, does not roll easily off the tongue. It was soon shortened to Ihagee, which is how the initials IHG are pronounced in German.

In its early years, the company made plate cameras and accessories, and subsequently, roll-film cameras. One of their early designs was the bizarre Ihagee Patent Klapp Reflex of 1925 (Jason Schneider in Camera Collecting calls it “an unfolding enigma”).

But the camera which Ihagee is most famous for is the Exakta. The Kine Exakta, unveiled in 1936 at the Leipzig Spring Fair, is arguably the world’s first 35mm SLR (the other contender being the Russian GOMZ Sport). In many ways, the Kine Exakta was an astonishingly modern camera. It had a focal-plane shutter capable of 1/1000 sec, lever film-wind with auto shutter-cocking, and a bayonet lens mount.

Ihagee : WWII and Aftermath

But dark times were ahead. In 1940, Steenbergen and his Jewish wife Elizabeth Nussbaum were interned by the Germans, and their property was confiscated. Thanks to Elizabeth’s status as an American citizen, the couple were able to flee Germany, but Steenbergen never saw his beloved factory again. In February 1945, Dresden was firebombed by Allied forces – one article describes it as “apocalyptic … a fury of devastation that beggars the imagination”. The Ihagee factory, like the rest of this once-beautiful city, was left in ruins.

Fortunately, the surviving Ihagee workforce had managed to salvage some machines and materials from the debris, and set up a new facility in a rented building. Production of Kine Exaktas was resumed immediately after the war. The Exakta Varex of 1950 – lauded by Aguila and Rouah as a “sensational innovation” – was the first 35mm SLR with an interchangeable viewfinder.

The 1950s have been described as “the golden years of the Exakta family.” The Exakta was a true “system camera” with interchangeable lenses, finders, focusing-screens, stereo adapters, close-up attachments, flash units and many other accessories. Crucially, with few other SLRs on the market, they also had little competition.

But Japanese manufacturers were starting to gain ground. The Asahiflex IIb of 1954 had an instant-return mirror (though it was not the first: that honor goes to the Hungarian Gamma Duflex). The Exakta only got this important feature in 1967; earlier models suffered viewfinder blackout until the film was advanced. The revolutionary Nikon F was released in 1959, and four years later the Topcon RE Super introduced TTL metering, a feature which no Ihagee camera – not even much later models – could boast. By the mid-1960s, the Japanese ascendancy was complete.

Meanwhile, through the mid-to-late 1960s, Ihagee was gradually absorbed into VEB Pentacon (Volkseigener Betrieb, or People’s Enterprise). The last “true Exakta” – that is, manufactured by Ihagee and compatible with the Exakta family of accessories – was the Exakta VX500 of 1969. However, various other cameras have borne the Exakta name. These include the Pentacon-made Exakta RTL 1000 (1969), the medium-format Exakta 66 (1984) – apparently a stateless entrepreneur’s “vanity project” – and even a compact digital camera(!) from 2004.

So where does my little Exa fit into all this history?

Ihagee Exa : Little Sister of the Exakta

The Exakta Varex was a beautiful and feature-rich camera, but not everyone needed all the features, and in post-war East Germany, not everyone could afford it. A 1/1000 second shutter speed? In this economy? Camera manufacturers in the 1950s had not yet started using the term “entry-level,” but that’s essentially what the Exa was – a simpler, cheaper version of the Exakta largely compatible with Exakta-mount lenses and interchangeable viewfinders. It had a limited range of shutter speeds, no self-timer, and a very unusual shutter (more on that soon).

The original Exa was introduced at the Leipzig Spring Fair of 1950 as an inexpensive alternative to the Exakta. In the marketing literature, its very simplicity was promoted as a virtue. “Not every purchaser can fully utilize all the features of the Exakta Varex,” said a 1950 leaflet, “he wants a simpler, but not less reliable, SLR at a low price.”

The German ad says, “The happy dad will appear more often in the family album, now that mom has her own camera, the little Exa […] It is cheap and easy to use. Perfect for mom!” (Before we roll our eyes at mid-century advertising, it’s worth reflecting that sexism remains widespread in the photography industry even today.) The article by Ivor Matanle (Amateur Photographer, 17 September 2005), suggests another reason to buy an Exa – as a second body for a photographer who already has an Exakta.

Ihagee Exa Variants

Introduced in 1950, the Exa remained in continuous production for the next 37 years. Nearly 1.4 million units were produced by the factory in Dresden, and briefly, Sömmerda. Unsurprisingly given its long production run, the Exa went through numerous versions, much to the joy (or despair) of collectors.

I am a user, not a collector. So in this section I’ll limit myself to a brief overview of the versions, focusing on the differences which are likely to matter from a user’s perspective. For a full-fledged “collector’s classification” I refer you to Wrotniak and PhotoButMore.

There were three main classes of Exa cameras: the original Exa (1951–62); its successor, the Exa I (1962–87); and a separate, concurrent line, the Exa II/Exa 500 (1960–69). The nameplate on the camera is the easiest way to identify which class it belongs to. On an original Exa, the nameplate simply says “Exa”, while the later versions have a suffix indicating the specific model.

All are fully-manual SLRs with no light-meter. All have an Exakta bayonet mount, except the Exa Ib and Ic which are M42 screw mount. All have a left-handed shutter-release (I did warn you, it’s a quirky camera).

The original Exa models, as well as their successor, the Exa I class, have interchangeable viewfinders and a unique “guillotine shutter” which I will talk about shortly. This shutter design does not allow for an instant-return mirror, and also limits the top speed to around 1/150 sec (some very early versions have a nominal 1/250 sec, but apparently this was not achieved in practice).

The original Exas have a lever to set the shutter speed (they are sometimes also called “gear-shift Exas” because the lever looks like a stick-shift). In the Exa I, this lever was replaced by a more conventional dial. Early models have knobs for advancing and rewinding film. The Exa Ia was the first to get a film-advance lever, and the Exa Ib got a rewind crank.

Chronologically, as you can see from the production years above, the Exa II overlapped the Exa and Exa I lines. All Exa II models have a non-interchangeable, eye-level (prism) finder, and a more conventional focal-plane shutter allowing for top speeds of 1/250 or 1/500 sec. Like the later Exa I models, they have a shutter-speed dial and a film-advance lever. The Exa IIa was the first to get a rewind crank, and from the Exa IIb, they also have an instant-return mirror.

My own model is the final variant of the original Exa (version 1.6 according to Wrotniak’s classification), produced from 1960–62. In the rest of this review, this is the camera I’ll be focusing on. Some of what I write also applies to other variants, but version 1.6 is the only one I have personally used.

Why I Bought the Exa

So far in this review, I’ve stuck to the facts – history, variants, and so forth. From here on in, it gets more subjective. But before talking about the camera itself, I want to briefly talk about why I got the Exa and how I use it. Since my review is not very objective, I figure I should at least give some context.

A couple of years ago, I became interested in ultra wide-angle (UWA) prime lenses for film cameras. Specifically, I was eyeing a 20mm MD lens for my Minolta SLR. But they are rather expensive, and I soon realized that I could instead get a Carl Zeiss Jena Flektogon 20mm f/4 plus an Ihagee Exa body, and still have some cash left over.

Moreover, I am a sucker for pretty cameras, and with its compact size, uncommon trapezoidal shape and classic styling, the Exa is very pretty indeed. Apparently, not everyone agrees. In a hilariously defensive section titled “¿Quién dijo feas?” (Who said ugly?) a Spanish review noted, “There are those who dare to say that the Exas are ugly, and even those who have come to describe them as ‘chubby’. But there are few, if any, who can deny the pleasantness of their character and appearance.”

I like the Exa’s cute form factor, and its steampunk aesthetic, with nickel plating, knobs and levers. Most collectors prefer the older versions (1.1 to 1.5), which have silver nameplates with calligraphic lettering. But I was specifically looking for version 1.6; I like its black silk-screened plate with cursive silver script.

In actual use, the Exa is undeniably an oddball. But I like oddballs – and if you’re reading this review, I guess you do too. Besides, the Exa was never going to be my main camera. I got it as a special-purpose, “fun” camera, mainly as a body for the wonderful 20mm Flektogon lens (though I later added a Meyer-Optik Domiplan 50mm f/2.8). For that reason, I can tolerate – even enjoy – its many quirks.

So let’s talk about the quirks.

The Many Quirks of the Ihagee Exa

Film cameras come in a bewildering array of shapes and sizes – from tiny to humungous, from simple to complex. But if you think about it, manual-focus 35mm SLRs are largely similar. The Exa is the exception that proves the rule.

I counted at least six ways in which the Exa is different. Next up I’ll talk about these quirks, and what impact they have on practical use. For each quirk, I’ve also noted an unexpected advantage. You may or may not agree with the ‘advantages’ – I did say I’m biased!

Quirk 1: Guillotine shutter – When it comes to shutter type, almost all film cameras fall into one of two categories: focal-plane shutter or leaf shutter. The Exa and Exa I models are an exception; they have a very unusual “guillotine shutter” (The Exa II models, however, have a more conventional focal-plane shutter).

Most English websites use the term “guillotine”, but I think the German term klappenverschluß (flap- or hatch-shutter) is a better description. In this design, the SLR mirror itself forms part of the shutter – the first curtain, so to speak. When you press the shutter release, the mirror flips up, exposing the film. Immediately afterwards, a metal plate swings up, blocking the light path and ending the exposure. Marc Rochkind has a more detailed description of how it works.

Advantage: The more sophisticated Exaktas had a focal-plane shutter made of cloth, and were thus capable of faster speeds. However, with the passage of years, the cloth has proved susceptible to pinholes and light leaks: a known issue with Exaktas. For all its other limitations (see quirks 2 and 3), the Exa’s guillotine shutter seems more durable.

According to John Margetts, the shutter also has no need of lubricants, so it can be used in very cold conditions. And it’s pretty quiet, if that’s something you care about. One Popular Photography article (Dec 1963) described the Exa as “the quietest and smallest full-frame SLR around”, while another (Feb 1958) called it “quiet as a mouse”.

Quirk 2: Viewfinder blackout – The later models in the Exa II line have an instant-return mirror, but on all other Exas, including mine, that is not the case. When you press the shutter, the mirror flips up… and stays up. Consequently – and somewhat disconcertingly – the finder goes dark. Visibility is restored when you advance the film, at which point the mirror is automatically lowered in preparation for the next shot.

Advantage: On some other cameras, I have been known to press the shutter, but nothing happens because I forgot to advance the film. This never happens with the Exa: if you haven’t advanced the film, you can’t see through the finder. At least in this one respect, it’s foolproof.

Quirk 3: Shutter speed – On my Exa, made in the early 1960s, the fastest shutter speed is 1/150 sec. The Exa 1c – last of the series (1985–87) – goes to 1/175 sec, but that’s only a quarter-stop faster. By comparison, the Nikon FM2 of 1982 had a top speed of 1/4000.

The shutter-speed selection is very limited in general – a consequence of the guillotine design. Mine has just four speeds: 1/25, 1/50, 1/100 and 1/150 (plus Bulb). With a normal lens, shooting handheld at 1/25 sec, you run the risk of camera shake. So you’re basically limited to the three fastest speeds – a range of only 1.5 stops. Moreover, the times don’t follow the conventional sequence (1/30, 1/60, 1/125…), so if you’re using a standard light meter, you may need to adjust accordingly.

Advantage: If you’re flexible with your choice of aperture, you can generally make do with the limited selection speeds. You could even argue that it simplifies matters. With the Exa, I often think in shutter priority mode; for example: “With the film and light I have, what aperture will give me 1/100 sec?”

This system is more flexible than you might think. Rather than explaining in the abstract, it’s easier to see with examples.

The art gallery photo was in not-so-bright indoor light, using Kodak Ultramax 400.  At f/4, the 20mm Flektogon’s widest aperture, my phone meter indicated 1/15 sec. I went with 1/25 sec, the Exa’s slowest shutter speed. With a lens this wide, handholding a steady 1/25 sec is not too hard. The photo is slightly underexposed, but usable.

The sculpture was another indoor-light photo on Fuji Superia 200. At f/4, my phone meter suggested 1/4 sec which is not available on the Exa. No problem. I simply stopped down to f/8, switched to Bulb and made a 1-second exposure. I avoided camera shake by resting the camera on the parapet, but you can see motion blur on the person on the right – an artist who was sketching the sculpture.

The photo with clouds was on the same ISO 200 film. I wanted detail in the sky, and to emphasise the shape of the canopy by rendering it as a silhouette. It was a bright day, but by using the Exa’s fastest shutter speed (1/150) and the smallest aperture on the 20mm Flektogon (f/22), I was able to achieve both these aims. Another alternative would be to use an ND filter, which I don’t have.

The black-and-white portrait was shot on Oriental Seagull 400 on an overcast afternoon, with the 50mm Domiplan. I wanted to use the widest aperture, f/2.8, for shallow depth of field. My phone meter indicated 1/400 sec, which is not available on the Exa. I just went with 1/150 sec – a 1.5-stop overexposure, but most negative films can handle that, especially in a low-contrast setting like this one.

Quirk 4: Left-handed shutter – The position of the shutter-release is weird in two ways. First, it’s on the front of the body, like on some Praktica cameras. But unlike the Prakticas – for that matter, unlike almost every other camera known to humankind – the shutter-release is to the left of the lens. Thus the Exas and Exaktas are among very few 35mm cameras where the shutter is operated with the left hand. (The Kodak Ektra is the only other one I know of.)

What was the logic behind this design choice? I have no idea. Wrotniak puts it down to the “German ‘I know what’s right for you regardless what you think’ attitude … Focusing is a responsible task: it must be trusted to the right hand, therefore the shutter release has to be on the left.” The theory may or may not be accurate, but I find it amusing.

Marco Kroeger theorizes that it could be a holdover from older Exakta cameras for 127 film where the film transport was from right to left. Some say that Karl Nüchterlein, designer of the original Exakta, was left-handed, but I’ve never seen a reliable source for this claim.

Advantage: I suppose if you’re left-handed, it might be an advantage. I’m right-handed, but I got used to the Exa fairly quickly. Though I should say, I’m pretty flexible when it comes to cameras. If photography forums are to be believed, some people find a left-handed shutter almost impossible to work with.

Quirk 5: Film loading, transport and rewind – These are a little quirky, but not exceptionally so. The Exa has a removable take-up spool for film loading (prone to getting lost, so if you’re buying one, check that the spool is included). It has milled knobs for film advance and rewind. I must say I’m not a fan of these knobs; I prefer the “modern” film-advance lever and rewind crank. But it is what it is.

The film-counter doesn’t reset automatically when you open the camera back. When loading a new roll, you turn a milled ring to manually reset the counter to zero. The manual reset does not bother me as such, but the ring is a bit fiddly and annoying to use.

Advantage: The take-up spool can be replaced by an empty film cassette. Attach your film leader to an empty cassette, and save yourself from having to rewind the film. I must confess I’ve never tried this myself; the rewind knob is not ideal, but it doesn’t bother me that much.

Quirk 6: Viewfinder – The Exa is largely compatible with Ihagee’s wide array of finders and focusing screens (Wrotniak has a good overview, including a section on finder/body compatibility). Of course, this is not a limitation in itself. Quite the opposite; such choices are usually only available on “pro” SLRs. The limitation (or quirk) stems from the fact that apart from the Exa II models which have a non-interchangeable prism finder, most Exas tend to come with a waist-level finder.

With these, you hold the camera at waist-level and look down at an image projected on a ground-glass screen. The image is reversed left-to-right, which takes some getting used to. If you’ve used a TLR, you know what it’s like. But on a 35mm camera like the Exa, the screen is a lot smaller than on a medium-format TLR.

Focusing is tricky at waist level, especially at wider apertures. Ihagee finders have a built-in pop-up magnifier which helps with critical focus, but deploying the magnifier and raising the camera to your eye are extra steps which can slow you down. Bear in mind, too, that many of these cameras are almost 70 years old, so the mirror and ground-glass screen are not as pristine as the day they left the factory (mine certainly aren’t). In short, to focus and compose, you’ll be looking down into a small, relatively dim screen with a laterally-inverted image.

Advantage: For starters – and here’s the nice thing about a “system camera” – you can get a prism finder, which is probably what I’d do if the Exa were my main camera. But as I said, I got it as a fun camera for occasional use, and the waist-level finder was actually one of the things which drew me to it. Because for all their disadvantages, these finders have a certain charm. Even people who are not otherwise into cameras are fascinated by the ground-glass image (my friend said, “Whoa, an analog LCD”). When taking portraits, you can maintain eye-contact with your subject. And some shooting positions are easier with a waist-level finder, like if you want to place the camera on the ground. The finder can be folded down when not in use, making the camera even more compact.

In the photos below, you can see the how the finder folds out, as well as the pop-up magnifier. I’ve also shown the set-up for an actual photo, and how it turned out on black-and-white film.

Other Features

Simply by describing its quirks, I find that I have said pretty much all I had to say about the Exa. There are just a couple more things to add for completeness. The camera has a typical 1/4″ tripod screw at its base. It has no hot-shoe (nor cold-shoe, for that matter) but it does have two PC sockets. The X socket is for electronic flash, and the F for old-style magnesium flash bulbs (which the Exa manual charmingly calls “regular flash”). The fastest sync speed is 1/50 sec for electronic flash and 1/25 sec for flash bulbs.

The shutter-release button has a thread which accepts a standard cable-release. There is a cute little lock right above, which can be swivelled down to prevent accidental shutter actuation. And that’s pretty much all there is.

Like many East German cameras, the Exa is well-made and feels solid, even if some of the controls don’t feel highly refined. Sure, it has limitations. But one major advantage of a fully manual camera is that you have total control over the three most important parameters: aperture, shutter speed and focus. Another advantage is that there are fewer things which can go wrong. Work within its limitations, and the camera delivers.

Exakta-mount Lenses

Exa cameras have a bayonet-type Exakta mount (other than the Exa Ib and Ic which, as mentioned, have an M42 screw mount). There is a vast range of used lenses available for both Exakta and M42 mounts, many of which are very reasonably priced. In this article I’ll focus on the Exakta mount.

There are three generations of Exakta-mount lenses: manual, preset and automatic. This categorisation is based on how the aperture is set. On most SLRs, regardless of the selected f-stop, the aperture remains wide open while you focus and compose, giving you the brightest possible viewfinder image. When you press the shutter, an internal coupling mechanism instantaneously closes the aperture down to the selected f-stop. This is such a common feature that we hardly give it a second thought. But that was not always the case.

With first-generation (manual) Exakta lenses, you focus and compose wide open, then manually stop down to your desired aperture before pressing the shutter. This is a slower procedure, and depending on how far you stop down, the viewfinder image when you actually press the shutter may be significantly dimmer.

The second-generation (preset) lenses are slightly more convenient. They have one ring to pre-select the f-stop, at which point the aperture remains wide open. Then just before pressing the shutter, you turn a second ring, closing the aperture down to the preset f-stop. This method of stopping down is faster, and can be done without taking the eye from the finder (the second ring turns till the preset aperture and then stops). But it’s still an additional action to perform.

The third-generation (automatic) lenses have a spring-loaded external plunger which stops down the aperture to the selected setting. When the lens is mounted on the body, this plunger couples with (and doubles up as) the camera’s shutter-release. Pressing the plunger simultaneously stops down the aperture and releases the shutter. This is an unusual solution but, as Wrotniak says, is effectively “as convenient as any solution using internal coupling”.

If you are buying an Exa for actual use (as opposed to collection or display), I would recommend looking into automatic lenses, easily identifiable by the plunger on the side. Manual and preset lenses are not necessarily cheaper; in fact, some collectible versions are more expensive. And using the Exa is already quite tricky, so why make your life even more complicated? But that’s just my recommendation, nothing more. We are all different, and if you wanted a simple life, I guess you wouldn’t be using an Exa at all.

Exakta-mount Lens Selection

As far as I know, there was only one Ihagee-branded lens – the Exaktar 54mm f/3.5 (actually a rebranded Meyer Primotar). However, a mind-boggling array of lenses was produced for the Exakta mount by other manufacturers – mostly German (including Carl Zeiss Jena, Meyer-Optik, Schneider-Kreuznach and Steinheil), but also French (Pierre Angénieux), Japanese (Taika) and various others. The lenses run the gamut from ultra-wide to tele; from cheap and plentiful (like my Domiplan 50/2.8 which was only £11) to rare and expensive; from “characterful” to “clinical”. Some of the chrome-finish Angénieux and Steinheil lenses, in my opinion, are among the prettiest lenses produced by any manufacturer, for any system.

If you’re interested in the multitude of other Exakta-mount lenses out there, Wrotniak has a good overview, Captain Jack has descriptions and photos of his vast lens collection, and Hugo Ruys has a list of over 2,500(!) Exakta-mount lenses.

Many of these lenses are undeniably tempting, but if, like me, you use an Exa with a waist-level finder, think twice before splurging on an exotic ultra-fast lens like a Biotar 75mm f/1.5 or a Harigon 58mm f/1.2. Due to the relatively small screen, I sometimes miss focus even with my Domiplan 50mm f/2.8. Fast lenses with shallow depth-of-field would be even trickier.

Another important caveat is that lenses longer than 100mm will vignette on the original Exa and Exa I models. This is due to their guillotine shutter, so the Exa II and Exakta models don’t have this limitation.

So far, I’ve only used two Exakta-mount lens: the Flektogon 20/4 and Domiplan 50/2.8. I hope to review these two lenses someday, but meanwhile, here are some more sample photos.

Final Thoughts

In the review I quoted at the start of this article, the authors concluded that the Exakta’s many limitations and quirks “add up to a camera that you can’t really use alongside anything else: it is Exakta or nothing. For most people, this relegates the Exakta to curio status.”

Compared to the Exakta, the Exa is even more limited, and even more quirky. But for me, it’s no curio or shelf queen. My collection of vintage cameras is a small one, but they are all in regular use – and so it is with the Exa.

So just how much quirkiness are you prepared to tolerate in a camera? At what point does it go from being charming to actively annoying? How many features do you really need? Can you cope with a left-handed shutter? These things – indefinable, subjective – are what will ultimately determine whether you get on with the oddball that is the Ihagee Exa. Personally, I love it. It’s not my main camera, but I use it more often than I expected to. I like it for its history, for its incredible selection of lenses, and for how pretty it is. And let’s face it, I like for its quirks.

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[Some of the links in this article will direct users to our affiliates at B&H Photo, Amazon, and eBay. By purchasing anything using these links, Casual Photophile may receive a small commission at no additional charge to you. This helps Casual Photophile produce the content we produce. Many thanks for your support.]

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Part of a class built in the mid-sixties, these giant hovercraft used to ferry 427 people and 60 cars at a time across the English channel at 75 miles per hour. The fastest and most glamorous way to cross the channel, her sister-craft even made a cameo in a James Bond film. The hovercraft carried on plying this trade until changes to tax laws and the opening of the channel tunnel finally put an end to the service in the year 2000.

The Princess Anne currently resides at the world’s only hovercraft museum, a slightly run down collection of hangers on a former naval base just across the water from where the first ever hovercraft flight took place. Like so many small museums, there’s a real charm to the place. The museum volunteers are wonderful, I end up speaking to about half of them, the Rolleicord hanging around my neck being a good conversation starter. One delightful man even asks if there’s anywhere not on the visitors’ route that I want to see, he’ll quite happily take me there (if it’s structurally sound enough).

This structurally sound qualifier is more restrictive than one might first imagine. The Princess Anne is in a bit of a state these days. Out of commission since 2000 she’s looked better. Built out of aluminium and balsa wood she doesn’t have the inherent heft that might hold a traditional ship together.

Inside feels like it hasn’t been touched since her last channel crossing, teetering on the edge between luxury and dereliction. A menu proudly advertising in flight drinks sits on the bar, an intercom telephone sits just off the hook as if not quite replaced properly in the haste of a fast Dover-Calais turnaround.

But she leaks badly, the inside smells of damp and the smell of kerosene lingers. Labels peel on ancient bottles in the tiny bar, in a few places the carpets have started to rot. A volunteer told me that every time they go up to patch the leaking roof someone drops a spanner and it goes right through. Puddles form in her cracked rubber skirts. Her once eye-catching red white and blue livery is faded and peeling, neglect and the south coast sun taking their toll.

Not so long ago the museum saw her sister-craft, The Princess Margret, scrapped. The two had sat opposite one another on the hardstanding at Lee-on-Solent for over a decade. Six years ago, a grey haired volunteer tells me, he witnessed the macabre spectacle of her being scrapped mere yards away, watched over by her surviving sister. All that hope and optimism, pride and memories gone. Ripped apart and turned into razor blades.

I speak to more volunteers, all incredibly friendly, their chattiness probably increased by the fact that I am one of a small handful of visitors to the windswept museum. Some lament the loss of the Princess Margaret, the scrapping still evidently a recent wound. Some quietly opine as to how long they can preserve the Princess Anne; these craft were never designed to last this long after all. Some talk to me enthusiastically about restoration work. I hope they can preserve this relic, forged in the white heat of the ’60s technological revolution, though a bucket catching occasional drips of water on the vast vehicle deck suggests that preservation won’t be without challenges.

This sentimentality on my part isn’t really for an era I wasn’t even alive to see, at least I don’t think it is. It’s more lamenting a mindset. Want to make your country seem impressive? Build a hovercraft, build a Concorde, put a man on the moon.

I’m not totally naive, I know that all three of the feats that I just referenced had their roots in military schemes and weren’t done purely out of a sense of innocent national pride. Somehow I still prefer the idea of national pride and patriotism being tied to something tangible, though. Be proud of your country is a sentiment often peddled, but so often it boils down to little more than be proud of YOUR country simply because it’s YOURS. No real reason seems to be offered as to why.

I’m not saying that I want a hovercraft to solve every political woe, I’d sooner take a properly funded healthcare system, a fair and equitable justice system, frankly, even a publicly funded library would be a good start. But along with the hovercraft these are all tangible reasons to be proud of a nation, rather than just a vague sense of historical ownership.

I’m aware this article has been a bit light on photographic detail. There’s been no praising of the Rolleicord’s Xenar lens, no comment on its awkward EV interlock. I’ve even resisted the temptation to lament the discontinuation of Fuji Pro 400H, or to note that I prefer its rendering of this sort of colour palette over Portra’s.

I’ve not even commented that I rarely photograph in colour, or that the indispensable Rolleinar 2 helped me get some shots that I’d otherwise have been unable to. I haven’t even mentioned that the reason these photos exist as they do is because of a problem with a repair on my Leica IIIc.

The truth is that I haven’t mentioned those things because none of them are why I love photography as a hobby. I love photography as a hobby because sometimes it makes me stand on an abandoned naval base in the middle of winter looking at a 50-year-old hovercraft and muse on how palatable patriotism seems destined to shift into nationalist populism. How many other hobbies can do the same?

Our guest posts are submitted by amazing photographers and writers all over the world.

Today’s Guest Post was submitted by…

Jacob Downey, a photographer who has previously been featured in our Single Shot Stories here.

For more stories and photography from the community check out the many series we’ve published over the years below!

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The post Historical Hovercrafts Through a Rolleicord Lens – Guest Post by Jacob Downey appeared first on Casual Photophile.

So before we get started, let’s establish some ground rules. The electronic 35mm SLR category encompasses any 35mm SLR whose exposure capabilities are aided by electronics. This can range from something like the humble, aperture-priority-only Nikon EM to the autofocus-equipped, armed-with-every-mode-ever Minolta A7. That’s as varied as it gets.

It is this category’s extraordinary variety that makes this list so difficult, yet so exciting to organize. I ended up having to ask myself some rather serious questions about cameras and list-making in general. What really, and I mean really, makes a camera (or anything) great? Is it their stat sheet and groundbreaking tech, or is it the beauty of their execution of existing tech? Is it their sales figures or their historical importance? Is it what the camera is objectively, or is it how that camera made you feel?

Each camera on this list revealed to me a different answer to every one of those questions. To other shooters, other cameras may hold different answers still. This isn’t an objectively perfect Top 10 list, but these are my and I’m sticking with them. Do check my answers you’ll find links to reviews of each of these cameras in the paragraphs below each.

Let’s get into it.

Nikon F3

I should start this by saying that this list isn’t intended to be sequential. Every one of these cameras are about as good at helping you make images, are as interesting, and are as worthy of your love and attention as each other. But heaven help you if you thought that I wasn’t going to put the Nikon F3 first, even symbolically.

Sure, the F3 is hyped up by literally everybody (including myself). Sure, it’s not as capable as any pro-spec autofocus SLR. Sure, it’s nearly functionally similar to nearly any bare-bones electronic SLR. And yes, the LCD display sucks and the AE lock button sometimes aggravates my carpal tunnel. I know – it’s not perfect.

But look at it, just for a second. Look upon its Italian, Giorgetto Giugiaro-designed body, with its sharp, defined lines terminating in a soft curve accented by the now-iconic Nikon red stripe. Look into the viewfinder and enjoy brightness and eye-relief beyond compare. Marvel at the accuracy and utility of its uncommon 80/20 center-weighted meter, and watch in awe as it works in immaculate concert with its aperture-priority mode. And press the shutter button and listen to its crisp chirp, feel the smooth ratchet of its perfectly-engineered, ball-bearing mounted, self lubricating advance lever, and frame the next shot with joy and inspiration in your heart. It’s not perfect, but God, it’s close.

Now, I’m only being slightly facetious. The Nikon F3 really is a beautiful, historically important, and still-relevant machine that has occupied its lofty place in camera history from the day it was released in March 1980. It was Nikon’s last professional manual focus camera, and may still even be its greatest. It enjoyed an incredible twenty year production run from 1980-2000 and remains an incredible camera even in the 2020’s, owing to its sleek lines, spartan charm, and easy usability. I recommend it to those shooters who are loyal to 35mm, the SLR genre, and good design as a whole. Even after all the hype, the Nikon F3 is still one of the best there ever was.

[Get a Nikon F3 on eBay here]

Nikon FA

I know what you’re thinking. This is a top 10 list for all electronically-controlled SLR’s, and we’re giving Nikon two spots? Is that really what we’re doing?

Yes. That is, in fact, what we’re doing.

That’s because our next camera is Nikon’s most advanced manual focus camera ever, and a camera that is likely more influential than any in their entire roster – the Nikon FA, otherwise known as the Technocamera.

The FA makes this list for two reasons – its influence, and its still-astonishing usability. For one, the FA’s emphasis on technology over pure pro-spec performance should sound familiar – it is one of the familiar plays of the “advanced amateur” camera and one that carries on to this day. Sure, the Minolta X-series and Canon A-series did this first, but the FA is arguably the genre’s greatest exponent. It blew all those other electronic manual focus cameras out of the water with its pioneering technology, matrix metering, which was the first to utilize a computer to analyze a given scene to produce a meter reading. Any doubters to the FA’s influence need not look further than their own digital camera – matrix metering (or evaluative metering) is likely the default metering mode.

Perhaps the greatest attribute of the FA is that it utilized its incredibly complicated technology just to make everything easier for any level of shooter. Shooting an FA is simplicity in manual focus form – just focus, shoot, and you’ll get a perfect image. I recommend it highly for anybody looking for just one SLR body to grow with (provided, of course, that you find one that works).

[Get a Nikon FA on eBay here]

Olympus OM-4Ti

But that’s enough of looking at this list through Nikon multi-coated glasses. If you’re tired of hearing me squawk about how cool Nikon is, how about this – there’s a camera that might be better than the both the FA and the F3, and it’s not a Nikon. It’s the Olympus OM4-Ti.

Those who remember 1983’s Olympus OM4 remember a camera that may have been the most advanced, and smallest, professional-level SLR of its day. It crammed all of Olympus’ most advanced technologies into a shock and weather-resistant chassis the size of a Leica-M camera. It featured the world’s first multi-spot meter (which could take a spot reading from eight different segments of the frame), as well as their famous off-the-film-plane style of metering, which ensured an incredible amount of metering accuracy. Whereas the FA took care of everything for the user, the OM4 gave the user ultimate control over the exposure, and to a degree arguably finer than even the Nikon F3. And similar to the F3, the OM-4 enjoyed an incredibly long production life spanning from 1987 to 2002 in its now-famous Ti form.

If we’re talking absolute endgame cameras, never mind the greatest electronic 35mm SLR’s of all time, the Olympus OM-4 ranks near the top. This is the camera that best represents Olympus’ philosophy of quality, compact design, and technological ingenuity. I heartily recommend the OM4-Ti, the titanium-clad version of this camera, as they are the easiest to find in stellar condition.

[Get an Olympus OM4 on eBay here]

Minolta XD (XD-7, XD-11)

Even though this is a list of The Greatest, I despise the GOAT (greatest of all time) debate, in any form. If I have to hear Stephen A. Smith get into a shouting match with some other weird talking head about lEbRoN jAmEs I may just lose it. Aside from the tendency of GOAT arguments to devolve into obnoxious rants made to harvest hate clicks and provoke engagement-at-all-costs, it’s that the argument often fails to take into account the limitations of the knowledge and the changing values of the time of any athlete, artist, or whoever. Bjorn Borg never had the chance to play with a graphite tennis racquet, polyester strings, and years of sports science research; Rafa Nadal never had to play with a wooden racquet, natural gut strings, and in a time where smoke breaks were a thing.

Considering this, a camera like the Minolta XD becomes even more remarkable in hindsight. Released in the olden days of 1977, the Minolta XD became the very first multimode SLR at a time when such things did not exist. I can’t stress that enough – nobody had even seen a camera that could perform both aperture and shutter priority duties with a flick of a switch until this camera came along. Just like we wouldn’t have had Kobe Bryant or LeBron James without Michael Jordan, we wouldn’t have the FA, the OM4-Ti, the Canon A-1, or practically any multi-mode camera in history without the Minolta XD. It’s that important.

Now before anybody hurls a tomato at me and accuses me of picking cameras purely on historical relevance, I will remind you that this is the Minolta freakin’ XD we’re talking about. This is, to this day, one of the finest shooting manual focus SLR’s ever made. It was perhaps the best child of the union between Minolta and Leitz (yes, that Leitz), and features the best combination of the former’s technological wizardry and the latter’s elegance in design. While not as well equipped as the later Nikon FA or Olympus OM4-Ti, the Minolta XD still holds a distinct edge in shooting layout and build quality. Its Acute Matte focusing screen is the same found in Hasselblad cameras, its controls are snappy and smooth, and if obtained in the black trim, you get a black chrome Leitz-approved finish. It is also, in my opinion, the most elegantly designed of the compact manual focus SLRs on this list. It may not be the greatest of all time, but its greatness transcends that tired moniker.

[Get a Minolta XD on eBay here]

Canon A-1

While the Minolta XD came sprinting out of the gates first in the photographic technological arms race of the late 70’s, there was a rival following close behind. It was clad in all black enamel, cut a Darth Vader-esque figure, and packed one key technology that the XD was too timid to give an official name to – programmed auto-exposure. It’s Canon’s finest creation from their manual focus FD mount days, the Canon A-1.

More than most other cameras of its ilk, the Canon A-1 is emblematic of the hyper-technological advanced amateur segment. It’s covered in the technology of the day, most importantly becoming the first camera to feature shutter priority, aperture priority, manual override, AND programmed autoexposure in one body (note: the rival Minolta XD does technically have a program mode, but it’s not as explicitly stated as it is on the A-1). The feature list goes on longer than Too $hort’s music career, and includes an exposure lock, an exposure compensation dial, an extended range of manually selectable shutter speeds from 2 to 30 seconds, a viewfinder shutter, double exposure capability, and discrete dials for each shooting mode. Yes, this may contribute to a cluttered control interface, but it’s a small price to pay when the entire photographic world is just a switch away.

I can practically hear the furious keystrokes of Canon AE-1 owners in the comment section. Why the A-1 over the obviously more important AE-1? It’s simple – it’s a better camera. The A-1 does everything the AE-1 and AE-1 Program can do. It also does more, does it better, and most importantly, does it cheaper.

[Get a Canon A1 on eBay here]

Canon AE-1

But even all that said, I can’t in good conscience leave the Canon AE-1 out. It’s the VW Bug, the Coca-Cola, the Fender Stratocaster of electronic SLR’s. It’s also the reason the consumer-focused electronic SLR segment even exists.

Just like we did with the Minolta XD, we have to consider what the photographic world was like before the AE-1. Before it, the amateur SLR market consisted of bulky bare bones cameras that were often simplified versions of their professional counterparts. Although these were often very good cameras in their own right, they painted the entire SLR format as something reserved only for professionals, while amateurs were largely better off with fixed lens rangefinders or viewfinder cameras.

The introduction of the automated Canon AE-1 in 1976 completely shattered the popular preconception of what an SLR should be. It was small, lightweight, and due to its groundbreaking microprocessor-powered shutter priority mode, incredibly easy to shoot – in short, the opposite of what an SLR was. It sold like no other SLR before it, eventually selling 5.7 million units worldwide. The AE-1 proved so popular that it opened up an entirely new consumer-focused amateur SLR segment in the market, and paved the way for every automated SLR to come afterwards.

Though I will always pick the more fully featured A-1 over the AE-1 and the later AE-1 Program from a shooter’s perspective (and have actually spoken ill of said cameras in an infamous article), I will admit there is a certain charm to shooting an AE-1. It’s practically a rite of passage as a beginner; millions of shooters experienced SLR photography for the first time through its viewfinder. It isn’t the best camera on this list, but it’s certainly the most important, and is still a fine shooter for any class of photographer.

[Get a Canon AE1 on eBay here]

Pentax LX

James once called the Pentax LX “The Best Professional 35mm Camera.” I remember holding my Nikon F3 kind of like how this lady holds Kevin Hart. I later realized I didn’t do this out of skepticism; I did it because it was probably true.

Fitting for the Pentax design ethos, the Pentax LX is maybe the most unassuming of the pro-spec electronic SLRs of the day (this is, of course, the same company that gave us the Wonder Bread of cameras, the Pentax K1000). But similarly befitting of Pentax, it is the near flawless execution of the LX’s build and the thoughtfulness of its design that gives it its power.

In abbreviated terms (for the long form review, click here) the Pentax LX is what you’d get if you shrunk a Nikon F3, a Canon F-1 New, or a Minolta XK down to the size of an Olympus OM-series camera while somehow sacrificing none of those camera’s features. It features nine interchangeable viewfinders, ten different focusing screens, motor drive capabilities, and a TTL OTF metering system which controls a stellar aperture priority mode. While managing this, the LX still managed to surpass its competitors by adding a mechanical backup across five different shutter speeds, and by being uncommonly well sealed against the elements, making it shock and water resistant to a degree those other cameras would envy. No other pro-spec SLR, manual focus or autofocus, can lay claim to this kind of a spec sheet.

Best of all, it’s an incredibly user-friendly camera. Its small size and thoughtful control layout makes it perhaps the most ergonomically friendly camera to shoot on this list. And if you can find one, prepare to enjoy the best Pentax SLR body ever made.

[Get a Pentax LX on eBay here]

Leica R5

A few months ago, the Casual Photophile writers’ chat had a small debate about what their subjective perfect camera would be. I chimed in with, “Black Minolta XD with an exposure lock would be pretty near-perfect” James quickly reminded me that that camera already exists, only that it isn’t a Minolta XD. It’s the Leica R5.

The Leica R5 is often reductively considered a German Minolta XD on the juice, which is true to some degree. The R5 itself is based on the R4, Leica’s version of the Minolta XD, which was itself born out of a particularly interesting collaboration between Leica and Minolta, which you can read about here. The R4 took the XD and added an incredible metering system which, in aperture priority mode, can utilize both spot and center weighted metering, and officially added both an AE lock (in selective spot metering mode) and a program mode (!!). The R5 expounded on this by adding a wider shutter speed range (15s – 1/2000th of a second), TTL flash metering, and an even fancier program mode with a shift capability.\

Where the XD excelled in innovation and layout, the R5 excels in sheer build quality, shooting experience, and lens roster, and that’s saying something considering what I just wrote about the XD a few paragraphs before this. The R5 equipped with a 50mm Summicron is pure luxury in electronic 35mm SLR form, with every action streamlined, smooth, and of the very highest quality. You can’t expect less from a company like Leica.

[Get a Leica R5 on eBay here]

Contax RTS III

The camera which takes the penultimate spot on this list is, admittedly, my pick of the bunch. As much as I love my old faithful Nikon F3 and all of my Nikkor lenses, I have to give it up for the last great SLR of the manual focus age (barring the Nikon FM3a), the Contax RTS III.

The Contax RTS III is the platonic ideal of the manual focus electronic 35mm SLR segment. Released in 1990, it was one of the last of its kind due the mass shift towards autofocus SLRs. With the manual focus SLR’s last gasp, Contax perfected the form, bestowing their already beautiful RTS series of cameras with every piece of tech they could muster. The camera featured an incredible 32 – 1/8000th of a second shutter, an integrated motor drive that maxed out at 5 FPS, and a freakin’ vacuum film pressure plate for maximum film flatness (seriously, who does that??). Combine this with access to the entire roster of Zeiss C/Y mount lenses and it’s hard to think of a pound-for-pound more impressive SLR system.

Historically, the Contax RTS III can be seen as a swan song for the thirty odd years manual focus SLRs ruled the world. It combines the ease-of-use, flexibility, and raw capability of the later autofocus SLR’s with the elegant, concise control layout of old school manual focus cameras, and wraps it all up in the impeccable lines Contax is known for. For the manual focus faithful as well as Zeiss fanatics, it is the ultimate electronic SLR.

[Get a Contax RTS III on eBay here]

Canon EOS-1v

Seasoned readers of the site will likely have noticed our omission of autofocus 35mm SLR’s, a class of cameras objectively more capable than any on this list. This is intentional – I believe judging cameras purely on raw capability is just as shallow as judging athletes purely on final trophy count. Ichiro Suzuki, who maybe the greatest hitter to ever play baseball, never won a World Series and yet occupies a space among the legends. In the same way, I don’t think that cameras can simply be reduced to their picture-taking ability – there’s something more to them that we love.

With all that in mind, it might be surprising to pick the Canon EOS-1v as the representative for the roided-up autofocus SLR segment. It is not the statistical leader of the segment (that would be the Minolta A9), nor is it a personal favorite (that would be the Nikon F6). I do, however, think the EOS-1v is the epitome of the genre, has the best professional pedigree, and represents a culmination of technology in film photography as well as an important link to the digital future. The feature list is mind-boggling, so I’ll just list some of the greatest hits: 45-point autofocus, a shutter speed range from 30 seconds to 1/8000th of a second, 21-zone evaluative (matrix) metering, an 8.5% partial meter, 2.4% spot meter capable of multi-spot metering , and a centerweighted meter, and a 3 FPS motor drive, among other features. It was rugged and reliable, ergonomically near-perfect and distinctly modern in its design (it’s basically a 35mm Canon EOS-1D), and subsequently a favorite of professional photographers in the twilight of the film era.

The EOS-1v makes this list not only because of its capabilities, but because it is a camera that represents the link between the film and digital eras. The proof lies in two things – its design and its lens mount. The design of the EOS-1v foregrounded every modern Canon DSLR, and can be seen almost unchanged in cameras like the 5D Mk II and 1D. For my Nikonians out there, I’m sorry to say that history shows that Canon’s EF mount surpassed the F mount in the transition from film to digital. The EOS system became the de facto professional standard, with the “L” series of lenses becoming legendary in the modern era. Professionals who have already built up a formidable arsenal of EOS lenses can use Canon EOS-1v as a virtual 1:1 film version of Canon’s DSLR offerings, making it the most sensible choice for working professionals still interested in shooting 35mm. If it is pure performance you’re after, this is the camera to get.

[Get a Canon EOS 1v on eBay here]

Well, that’s the list. If you have another favorite mechanical SLR, let us know about it in the comments below.

You can find many classic SLR cameras in our shop, F Stop Cameras

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[Some of the links in this article will direct users to our affiliates at B&H Photo, Amazon, and eBay. By purchasing anything using these links, Casual Photophile may receive a small commission at no additional charge to you. This helps Casual Photophile produce the content we produce. Many thanks for your support.]

The post The Ten Best Electronic 35mm SLR’s Ever Made appeared first on Casual Photophile.