Film Cameras Archives - Casual Photophile https://casualphotophile.com/category/film-camera/ Cameras and Photography Thu, 07 Mar 2024 15:04:23 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=6.4.3 https://i0.wp.com/casualphotophile.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/03/Stacked-Logo-for-Social-Media.png?fit=32%2C32&ssl=1 Film Cameras Archives - Casual Photophile https://casualphotophile.com/category/film-camera/ 32 32 110094636 Ichi-Go Ichi-E with the Fujifilm Instax Square SQ1 https://casualphotophile.com/2024/03/07/ichi-go-ichi-e-fujifilm-instax/ https://casualphotophile.com/2024/03/07/ichi-go-ichi-e-fujifilm-instax/#respond Thu, 07 Mar 2024 15:04:04 +0000 https://casualphotophile.com/?p=32460 Moments pass, but some leave a mark. And when all is said and done, isn’t that what photography is about? One time, one meeting. And if we are lucky, a picture to remember it by.

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This is hard to say without sounding pretentious, but when I was working in Japan some years ago, I became interested in Zen Buddhism and in particular, the life of Sen no Rikyū, a 16th-century tea master.

Through Rikyū’s writings, I was introduced to the phrase ichi-go ichi-e (一期一会), which literally means “one time, one meeting.” Wikipedia describes it as the “cultural concept of treasuring the unrepeatable nature of a moment” – a reminder that each meeting is unique, and we should cherish it as such. Even if the same people meet at the same place again, a particular gathering can never be replicated. We can never step in the same river twice.

Last year I bought a Fujifilm Instax Square SQ1. It’s an instant camera, as the name suggests, which takes pictures on square-format film. 

This article is not a review of the Instax Square SQ1 – for that I refer you to James’s excellent piece which influenced my decision to get this camera. For now, the only thing I want to emphasize is just how simple it is. The camera lacks some of the more advanced features of certain other Instax cameras, such as a way to preview our images before we print them, exposure compensation, and self-timer. In fact, the SQ1 literally has just two controls – a dial for activating Selfie (or close-up) Mode, and a shutter release button.

Despite – or perhaps because of – this extreme simplicity, the Instax Square SQ1 is a joy to photograph with, and I use it more than I expected.

Photography, in a sense, is the art of capturing fleeting moments. For a while now, I have been thinking about the idea of ichi-go ichi-e – one time, one meeting – and how it applies to photography. I like taking pictures, and in addition to my phone, I tend to carry at least one other camera with me. With digital cameras, I often take dozens of (sometimes indistinguishable) photos. But what if I met a friend and limited myself to just one portrait? Would precious moments be lost to me forever, unrecorded and forgotten? Or would that one recorded moment somehow assume greater significance and value?

Instax film, I thought, would be especially apt for a project like this. You press the shutter, an exposure is made, and a single square of film is ejected from the camera. You can scan it of course, as I have done for the photos in this article. But unlike a digital image, an Instax is a tangible thing. And unlike a conventional film photo, it’s unique (you can make multiple prints from a single negative, but an Instax image is one of a kind). What better medium for a project about the precious and unrepeatable nature of a moment in time?

My SQ1 came with a free cartridge of Instax Square Monochrome film. Each cartridge has 10 sheets – a manageable number. I set out the parameters of my project: simple and spare, in keeping with the overall philosophy. One photo per friend. No retakes, even if I mess it up.

My first subject was Kwang, who has collaborated with me on any number of photography experiments.

The Instax Square SQ1 has an always-on flash, and while direct on-camera flash is undeniably a vibe, sometimes it can be interesting to mix things up. One way to hack it is to use an off-camera flash with an optical receiver function, which means that it can be set to fire when it “sees” another flash.

For this shot, I set up a Godox AD100 flash on camera-left, with a $5 white umbrella as a shoot-through diffuser. When making the exposure, I held a small piece of foil at an angle in front of the SQ1’s flash. The foil deflected the flash off to the left; it didn’t light Kwang herself, but the off-camera Godox AD100 “saw” the flash and fired synchronously.

This photo, and a few others in this set, are actually shot in Selfie mode. The Instax Square SQ1 is optimized to focus at about 6-10 feet in default mode. This is good for half-body or full-body shots, but if I want to frame more tightly, I switch to Selfie mode. All this does is to bring the focus distance forward to around 18 inches. Selfie mode is intended to be used with the camera pointing towards yourself – there’s a selfie mirror next to the lens, to help you frame the shot – but you can also just shoot as normal (camera pointing forward) which is what I do for close-up portraits.

Unlike Kwang, whom I’ve known for years, Muzi and Wu Chi are new friends; the day I took these two photos was only my second time meeting them. One weekend Muzi texted me saying, “Want to go to a dog cafe? Can pet puppies.” She asked me this with no preamble whatsoever – without even pausing to ascertain if I like dogs. I was amused, and since I had never been to a dog cafe before, I said yes.

I thought perhaps Wu Chi, the third member of our impromptu excursion, was a dog-lover. I asked her as we entered the cafe.

“Um, actually I’m a bit afraid of dogs,” she said. But after a while, she was comfortable enough to pose with a big Samoyed.

Afterwards we went to a restaurant which specializes in food from Dongbei (northeast China). In the photo, Muzi is holding a giant pork rib. Unlike the earlier shot of Wu Chi, I took this in selfie mode from about 18 inches away, and for me, it’s the least successful photo of the set.

The Instax Square SQ1 is a compact camera with a direct (as opposed to through-the-lens) viewfinder, so when you’re that close, you have to watch out for parallax. Clearly I wasn’t paying enough attention, because the framing is off and Muzi’s face is mostly obscured. Oh well.

The next photo, on the other hand, is one of my favorites. My friend Russ worked on a textile and light installation at a mall here in Singapore. The drapes were shiny white, Instax film has a relatively narrow dynamic range, and the SQ1 has no exposure compensation. I wasn’t sure if it would capture the highlight detail on the cloth, but it did a fine job in the end.

That same afternoon, we went to Peace Centre – a mall built in the 1970s which is now being demolished. In the last few months before its demise, with the stores shuttered and the tenants gone, the mall has been given over to artists, performers, thrift stores, exhibition spaces and graffiti. Kai (in picture) was the one who suggested we check it out, and I’m glad we did – just one day before it closed for good. It was my first and last time at Peace Centre, so this photo of all the ones in my set feels like the most literal embodiment of ichi-go ichi-e.

The Instax photo was taken outside, but I’ve also included a couple of shots made with my Fuji X-E4, where I tried to capture the vibe inside the mall.

The next two photos are both in my apartment, but on different days – Tomoe looking at her negatives (she came to pick them up from a film lab in my neighborhood) and Redwan helping me cook a lavish meal for two. The photo of Tomoe is over-exposed – Instax can be a bit hit-and-miss – but in the one of Redwan, the camera did a great job of balancing the bright background (natural light) and Redwan who was lit by flash.

I wanted at least one full-body photo in the set, and I saw my opportunity during a dance shoot with my friend Olivia. We shot a whole sequence under the water-tower with my Fuji X-E4. Then, as we were moving on to the next location, I took a quick candid on Instax of Olivia walking downhill.

“I think my eyes were closed,” said Olivia. But I stuck to my self-imposed limitation of one photo per friend; no retakes. Her eyes are indeed closed, but you only see it if you look closely.

There were two of us taking photos of Olivia that day – me and my friend Li Ling who is a wonderful family photographer, but wanted to try her hand at dance photography. After the shoot, we went to a ramen place for dinner, and I asked Li Ling if I could take a picture of her. Like a lot of photographers, she doesn’t like being in photos, so it’s apt that she’s hiding behind her camera, incidentally also a Fuji.

During the Lunar New Year weekend, my Chinese friends took me to a karaoke bar. One of them – Muzi – had already featured in my project (albeit partly hidden by a pork-rib), but the other two had not: Irene, who was leaving Singapore and going back to Shanghai that very night, and Huiwen, who I meet several times a week but had somehow not yet taken a photo of.

At that point I had just one shot left, so I decided to set aside my one-pic-per-friend policy and take a group photo. Rules and constraints are all very well, but they are a means to an end, and ichi-go ichi-e, after all, is about cherishing the time we spend together. It was the last shot of the pack, and a last evening of togetherness before Irene left for China. Let’s not overthink this, I thought. What would Sen no Rikyū do?

When the film ran out, I loaded another cartridge – color film this time. One of the karaoke-bar staff offered to take a photo of us. The picture developed to collective oohs, we all signed it with a marker, and Irene had a nice little souvenir to take back home to China.

Isn’t Instax wonderful?

I enjoyed my ichi-go ichi-e project, and I got a lot out of it. Some nice photographs, a better understanding of the strengths and limitations of the Instax Square SQ1, and most importantly, some happy memories.

By limiting myself to one photo per friend, I found myself devoting more thought to how and where I want to portray them. Some were pre-planned – Li Ling is a photographer, so I wanted to show her holding a camera – while others were spur-of-the-moment decisions.

An Instax photo can be scanned or otherwise reproduced, but the original is unique; it has what Walter Benjamin called the aura of the authentic. Like the moment itself, the Instax image can never truly be repeated or replicated. For these and other reasons, Instax – more so than a digital or even a film photo – feels like an event. You take the photo, a blank white square is ejected, and there is the breathless wait to “see what came out.” The reactions become a part of the experience, and part of the memories too. “Oh no, my eyes are closed!” (Olivia) “What a photo, I look like an artist!” (Redwan) “We look so alive!” (Huiwen)

The Japanese tea ceremony (chanoyu or “the way of tea”) has many different styles and philosophies. Sen no Rikyū, whom I mentioned earlier, is associated with wabi-cha, a school of chanoyu which emphasizes radical simplicity. Rikyū wrote, “All you need to know about chanoyu is this: boil the water, make the tea and drink it.” Using the Instax Square SQ1 is a bit like that: point the camera, press the shutter and make the picture.

And what kind of picture do you get? Most of the time, a good one – or at least, that has been my experience so far. Sometimes, the picture is out-of-focus or off-kilter. But if so, what of it? Memories are sometimes out-of-focus or off-kilter too.

The Instax Square SQ1 is a simple camera, but I am a simple photographer. By limiting our options, the camera sets us free. By getting out of the way, it lets us immerse ourselves in the moment. Olivia dancing down a grassy slope. Wu Chi nervously petting a Samoyed. Cooking with Redwan. Making new friends, and saying goodbye to old friends, hoping we’ll meet again soon. Moments pass, but some leave a mark. And when all is said and done, isn’t that what photography is about?

One time, one meeting. And if we are lucky, a picture to remember it by.


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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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Polaroid I-2 Long Term Review https://casualphotophile.com/2024/02/28/polaroid-i-2-long-term-review/ https://casualphotophile.com/2024/02/28/polaroid-i-2-long-term-review/#comments Thu, 29 Feb 2024 04:42:30 +0000 https://casualphotophile.com/?p=32301 James is here with a long term review of the the flagship instant film camera from Polaroid, the Polaroid I-2.

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The Polaroid I-2 is the most advanced instant camera that Polaroid has ever made, offering much that other instant cameras don’t – full user control of exposure, fast and accurate auto-focus, and the sharpest lens ever made for a Polaroid camera (designed by former Olympus engineers, no less).

That’s exciting stuff, even if the camera’s price isn’t. At $600, the Polaroid I-2 costs $450 more than the brand’s “standard” camera, the Polaroid Now+.

When the I-2 released in the fall of 2023, Polaroid’s marketing team positioned the new camera as a high-end tool for discerning photographers who care about nothing more than making instant images of the highest possible quality.

Hey, I thought. That sounds like me!

But I have a long and checkered history with modern Polaroid cameras and film. Often, I’ve found the quality of both to be sub-optimal, frustratingly failing to live up to their potential and price. The result is that I’ve never been able to write a review or article in which I can wholeheartedly recommend buying and using Polaroid cameras and film, unless the reader is ready to waste at least some small quantity of their time and money. Especially when so many decent Fujifilm Instax cameras exist.

Ever the optimist, when the I-2 was unveiled I put a call in to my friends at B&H, requested they send me one, and quietly wondered if the newest, fanciest Polaroid would be another instant letdown.

I’ve spent the months since then shooting the Polaroid I-2, and I’ve ended my time with it quite surprised.

Polaroid I-2 Spec Sheet

  • Lens: 98mm f/8 lens (approximate 35mm full frame equivalent = 38mm f/3.2)
  • Focus: LiDAR autofocus; minimum focus distance 1.3 feet (0.4 meters)
  • Exposure modes: Manual and auto exposure modes (aperture priority, shutter priority, full program)
  • Metering: Center-weighted metering spot covering 60% of the center of the image area
  • Shutter speeds: 1/250 second to 30 seconds
  • Lens aperture: F/8 to F/64
  • Flash: Built-in, with effective range 0 – 8.2 feet (0 – 2.5 meters)
  • Flash modes: Auto, Off
  • Viewfinder: Optical with LCD info display
  • Battery: Internal lithium ion battery rechargeable via USB-C
  • Additional Features: Exposure compensation controls; Multiple exposure setting; Self timer; External OLED info display; 2.5mm flash port; Tripod mount; Bluetooth enabled (app for remote control and settings)
  • Dimensions: 5.9 x 4.7 x 3.6 inches (149.9 x 119.3 x 91.2 mm)
  • Weight: 1.2 lb (563 grams)

Main Features of the Polaroid I-2

Polaroid spent four years developing the I-2. The result of that effort is that they legitimately produced the most advanced Polaroid film camera ever made. Just compare the spec sheet to any other Polaroid camera; the I-2’s major features are really impressive.

It’s capable of shooting in all of the shooting modes that we’d expect to find in a modern mirror-less camera. Aperture priority, shutter priority, full auto, and full manual are all present and accessible with the press of a button. This means, among other things, that the user is able to control depth of field and exposure times, something that very few instant cameras allow.

The metering system employs a center-weighted metering spot which covers the central 60% of the image area. Exposure times in automatic and semi-automatic shooting modes allow exposure compensation in 1/3 stop increments to +/- 2 EV.

The lens is not glass, but rather a three-piece unit comprised of polycarbonate and acrylic elements which have been coated for anti-glare. It has a 98mm focal length (equivalent to a wide-standard 38mm lens in 35mm full frame terms), which has been touted as the sharpest lens ever put into a Polaroid camera. I sort of believe it. The I-2’s lens is certainly the sharpest lens in a Polaroid camera, post-bankruptcy.

There is no manual focus mode, but auto-focus is achieved via a LiDAR system, which works as it should even in dim light. The system has just a single auto-focus point, in the center of the frame, however the camera allows for a half-press of the shutter button to lock focus and exposure. After which, we are able to recompose our shot for subjects that may not be positioned directly in the center of a photos (where the AF spot is). Focusing is quick and accurate, though a bit noisy. Focus distance is displayed in the viewfinder and OLED screen.

First Impressions

The Polaroid I-2 is a well-made machine, and holding it in the hand leaves no room for doubt; it’s the best-made instant camera on the market today.

The chassis and body are made of aluminum alloy and impact-resistant plastic. The lens barrel is made of metal with a metal screw-in filter ring. The shutter release button is an anodized aluminum touch point with a red, satin sheen, a detail which hearkens back to the red shutter release button of the iconic Polaroid SX-70 SLR. The external info display is an OLED screen. The strap lugs are metal.

The body is shelled with a sort of matte satin plastic, yet it doesn’t feel like the plastic of entry-level Polaroid cameras. It feels tight, solid, and dense, and the numerous panels are fitted together with  precision.

The controls are responsive and intelligent. The multi-function dial which lives behind the lens spins into its detents nicely, with corresponding changes to settings appearing near-instantly in both the external OLED screen and the in-viewfinder LCD display. The exposure compensation dial clicks into its 1/3 stop detents with a similar feeling of quality.

The film door flips open with a release lever typical of Polaroid cameras, and it locks into place nicely. Inside we find the brass and plastic gearing and the steel film rollers that are responsible for film transport and chemical dispersion. They’re nice and solid, and in my time with the camera I’ve not had a jammed photo or improperly squeezed chemical pack, things that happen too often with other Polaroid cameras.

The Polaroid I-2 in the Real World

The Polaroid I-2 uses either Polaroid I-type film or Polaroid 600 film, both of which are available everywhere cameras and film are sold (I often buy a pack alongside toothpaste at Target).

I-type film is less expensive (because it has no battery built in), but aside from this difference, I-type and 600 film are essentially the same (identical sensitivity, or ISO). The only advantage to using 600 film is that Polaroid often releases special editions of 600 series film which they do not release as I-type film. Round frames, black frames, multi-colored frames, duo-chrome film, etc.

It’s also possible to use Polaroid SX-70 film, however this film has a lower ISO compared with I-type and 600 series film, so users will need to adjust their exposures accordingly.

For me, I’m shooting I-type exclusively, because it costs less and works best. Except for when Polaroid entices me with something special in their 600 flavor.

What’s been really appealing about the I-2, is that I’ve found it can be whatever I want it to be. If I want a point-and-shoot Polaroid, it can do that. I set it to Auto and fire away. Whenever I used the camera in this way, it performed beautifully. Exposures were accurate, focus was accurate, and images were as high quality as any modern Polaroid images I’ve ever seen. In fact, they were higher quality, most likely a result of the camera’s lens and advanced systems (compared to other Polaroid cameras).

What sets the I-2 apart from other Polaroids, however, is the user’s ability to actually influence what’s going on in the camera.

In instances in which the subject was backlit, or when I wanted to blur the background, I was able to switch to aperture priority mode or use exposure compensation. If I wanted greater sharpness I could stop the aperture right down to f/64, and the camera handled selecting the correct shutter speed automatically. If I wanted motion blur to emphasize movement, I could switch to shutter priority and slow the shutter, knowing that the camera would select a smaller aperture to compensate. No other Polaroid camera does this.

Engaging in this type of photography successfully requires at least some degree of understanding of the photographic exposure triangle. Not a big deal, if you’re a camera nerd. But people new to this sort of thing will likely burn through a couple of packs of film before figuring things out. (After which, they won’t find a better Polaroid camera for making good pictures.)

The viewfinder is lovely. Crystal clear and absolutely massive, it’s been a real treat. Even as a wearer of glasses, it has been easy to frame and shoot, relying on the parallax frame-lines when shooting up close subjects. While this isn’t dead accurate, it’s good enough.

The in-viewfinder LCD display is a revelation which reminds me of the advanced SLRs of the 2000s. It shows all of the information we could possibly need to make a photo, without requiring the user to remove their eye from the finder.

It’s also reactive to our selected shooting mode. In aperture priority, it shows our selected aperture, the camera’s automatically selected shutter speed, and the exposure compensation value. In shutter priority, it shows the same information inverted. In full manual mode, it shows our selected settings, and a miraculous real-time readout which shows how close to a proper exposure our selected settings will get us. It also displays our battery life, number of exposures left in the loaded film pack, and other information for flash and focus distance, as is pertinent.

This wealth of in-viewfinder information is something that some of the greatest film cameras ever made sometimes fail to deliver. To have it here is simply excellent!

What I don’t Like

The battery is a built-in lithium ion rechargeable pack. Which is nice, because it lasts a long time between charges, and is easily chargeable without requiring me to buy more batteries.

However, the battery is inaccessible to the end user, so when it inevitably reaches the end of its life, it’s not possible for the user to simply open a door and replace the old, tired battery with a fresh, new one. This design choice has the potential to render our $600 camera useless in a few years’ time (unless Polaroid offers battery replacement service – and will that be free?)

And of course, there’s the camera’s high price. We get a lot for our money, yes, but there’s no denying that the I-2 is an expensive camera.

Consider that the next best Polaroid camera costs $450 less than the Polaroid I-2. Is the I-2 that much better than the Polaroid Now? Or an Instax camera, for that matter? Do the user controls and the nice lens justify the price?

For me, begrudgingly, it does. But I’m a freak, a camera nerd who lives and breathes these things.

For the average person who just wants to take fun, spontaneous instant photos, the cheaper Polaroid will do nicely and the Polaroid I-2 will be nothing more than overkill, a financial splurge. For more casual photographers, it’s probably not worth the price.

And how much film can I buy for $450?

Image Samples

Showing the range of exposure available with the I-2.

Image Quality, The Film Problem, and Final Thoughts

For the past fifteen-or-so years, the argument against Polaroid has been that their film produces images of low quality, especially compared to the Polaroid of days past. This reputation stems from the recent history of the company. The Polaroid of today is not the same Polaroid of the 1900s.

When the original Polaroid company went bankrupt in the early 2000s, the company’s assets were sold to fund the pensions of the former employees. Polaroid’s last remaining instant film factory was bought and resurrected by The Impossible Project, a small group of Polaroid die-hards who dreamed of keeping instant film alive.

They succeeded, eventually, even growing rich enough to finally acquire the Polaroid name and IP sometime around 2017. Polaroid, officially, was back. But for a long while, the quality of Impossible’s film, and then Polaroid Originals’ film, and finally, straight up Polaroid’s film, failed to live up to the high standard of the former Polaroid of Cambridge, Massachusetts in terms of image quality, sharpness, contrast, etc.

I suffered through these years, photographically, as did older photographers who fondly recollect the golden era of instant film and Polaroid, who clutch photo albums full of Polaroids from the 1980s and ’90s which look as fresh and punchy today as they did on the day they were shot.

And so, the complaints about new Polaroid have lingered, repeated ad nauseam by those of us who remember (accurately or not) “the good old days.”

So ubiquitous have these complaints been, and so internalized has been my disappointment with Polaroid film over the last decade plus, that I approached my time with the new I-2 expecting further disappointment. I expected to take pictures that were spongy and soft and washed out and under-exposed, some which didn’t develop at all, and others which developed with strange white streaks or weird tan blotches.

So sure was I that my review of this camera would have to include a sad, lengthy section bemoaning the fact that new Polaroid film just ain’t wha’d it yoosta be, that I reached out to my friend Ned Bunnell, former president of Pentax USA and lifelong Polaroid user, to collect some of his thoughts on the quality of the old film compared to the new.

He did me one better. He sent me a photo album.

It arrived loaded with original Polaroid photos from thirty, forty, maybe even fifty years ago. And the photos, true to the anecdotes of the olds, were vibrant, punchy, sharp, and beautiful these many decades later.

I stashed the photo album safely away, my secret weapon against the Polaroid I-2, and shot the camera for the next few months.

Imagine my surprise when some of the I-2 pictures (admittedly, not all) came out as sharp, as punchy, as contrasty and deep and rich as those which I saw in Ned’s album of original Polaroids.

Top row, left to right: Modern Polaroid photo made last year with a cheap camera from the 1980s, modern Polaroid photo made with the new Polaroid I-2 recently, modern Polaroid photo made with a 600 series camera four years ago. Bottom row: Ned’s classic Polaroid photos from decades ago.

Detail shot of modern Polaroid film made with the I-2 last week. Note the author, nonplussed, hating being photographed, suffering for science.

Could it be? Could it be that all we needed was a $600 camera?

I don’t think so. I think the answer is simpler than that. The truth is that Polaroid film has been steadily improving for years now, and I’m cautiously optimistic that the stuff (finally) works. It’s not totally, universally as good as it was, but these days, it’s pretty damn good. The I-2 certainly helps.

But even if new Polaroid film isn’t as good as the old stuff. Does that matter?

The counter-argument is this: The past doesn’t matter. It’s as true for the car you should never have sold as it is for the love to whom you should have confessed. And it’s true for Polaroids, too.

We can’t go back. Retrospection is pointless. All that matters is today.

And the Polaroid I-2 is the best Polaroid camera we can buy today.


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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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Canon’s Fruit-Themed Camera, the Canon ELPH Shades Sunshine https://casualphotophile.com/2024/01/30/canon-elph-shades-sunshine/ https://casualphotophile.com/2024/01/30/canon-elph-shades-sunshine/#comments Tue, 30 Jan 2024 16:06:44 +0000 https://casualphotophile.com/?p=32165 Looking back at the time that Canon made a fruit-themed APS film camera, the ELPH Shades Sunshine.

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Four years ago, when I published my review of the Konica Tomato point-and-shoot 35mm film camera, I expected that I was finished with writing about fruit-themed cameras. But I’d forgotten about the Canon ELPH Shades Sunshine. Released in 2002 and more appropriately named the Arancia in Europe (unreleased in Japan), the Canon ELPH Shades Sunshine is a camera whose key feature is that it looks like an orange.

I spent a week shooting a roll of film through this cute, little APS film point-and-shoot. It made pictures, which was neat. I held it, and it felt a certain way. I used its sparse features, some of which were interesting. And in the context of a review, such as the one that I’m writing and that you are now reading, I should probably touch upon all of that.

But let’s be real. We’re here for just one reason. The camera looks like an orange.

A Canon ELPH Shades Sunshine camera sitting on top of a pile of oranges.

[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.]

A Brief History of APS Film

APS film (an acronym for “Advanced Photo System”) is a dead film format that was first produced in 1996 and discontinued in 2011 when Kodak and FujiFilm, the format’s last two manufacturers, ceased production. It was sold under a number of brand names; Kodak Advantix, FujiFilm Nexia, Agfa Futura, and Konica Centuria.

The core idea behind APS film was an intention to simplify photography for newcomers and amateurs, to create a smaller, easier film format than 35mm film. APS film came from the factories pre-loaded into sealed canisters, which could be more easily dropped into any APS film camera than could 35mm film be loaded into a 35mm camera. All APS cameras would then handle the “complicated” operation of spooling the film through the camera for use, and reloading it into the canister after exposure, and APS film cameras were significantly smaller than comparable 35mm film cameras. In size and ease of use, at least, APS film was a success.

But APS film’s image area was significantly smaller that of 35mm film, offering just 58% of the surface area of a 35mm film. This smaller image area had an unfortunate (if predictable) side effect; compared to images made on 35mm film, APS film’s image quality was poorer. The drop in quality would be especially egregious when APS film images were printed or enlarged.

While sales of APS cameras and film were initially strong, within five years the numbers dropped significantly. Serious photographers never liked APS film because of its inferior image quality, and the format’s target demographic, amateur photographers, rapidly eschewed film en masse in favor of digital cameras.

Today, no one makes APS film, and any rolls we find will be long-expired relics of a forgotten time. Shooting expired film is fraught with peril, as described here, and here, and here. And yet my darling clementine Canon begged to be used, so I loaded a roll and crossed my fingers.

A Canon ELPH Shades Sunshine camera sitting on top of a pile of oranges.

Specifications of the Canon ELPH Shades Sunshine

  • Camera Type: APS format point-and-shoot film camera
  • Lens: 23mm f/4.8 (3 elements in 3 groups glass Triplet design); 23mm is equivalent to 29mm in 35mm full frame format
  • Focus: Automatic focus from 2 ft to infinity (3.3 ft to infinity when flash is OFF)
  • Exposure: Automatic
  • Flash: Built in flash; modes incl. ON, OFF, Slow Synchro, Red-Eye Reduction
  • Additional Features: Drop-in film loading; Automatic film advance and rewind; Three framing modes (Classic, Wide Angle, and Panoramic; Date, Time, and Title printing functions; Magnetic Information Exchange (IX); Self-Timer; Strap

Embracing the Gimmick

The Canon ELPH Shades Sunshine is a gimmicky camera that comes from a line of unapologetically gimmicky cameras. By their very nature, APS was a pandering format. It promised to sufficiently dumb down photography to a point that any dolt could succeed. That’s a gimmick.

The cameras were small, so Canon named them “ELPH.” Not “Elf” with an F, but rather a PH. That’s also a gimmick.

And then someone in a board room asked “What if we made cameras cute?” And a product designer, hours later, munching an orange to fight the flu, doodled an orange with a lens in the middle (possibly). Another gimmick.

The result is a camera that’s as fun to look at as it is to shoot. Actually, it might be more fun to look at.

From the moment I first laid eyes on the Canon ELPH Shades Sunshine, I was ready to drink the juice. Its packaging is reminiscent of a box of orange juice. It’s strap is a friendship bracelet of sunshine. It’s plastic shell is a delightfully textured matte rind which begs to be palmed.

A Canon ELPH Shades Sunshine camera's lens. A nice macro view.

Using the Canon ELPH Shades Sunshine

Like most APS film point-and-shoot cameras, the ELPH Shades Sunshine is tiny, lightweight, and simple to use. True to form, one only needs to point and shoot.

The protruding handgrip fits well in the hands, and the camera balances nicely in one-handed operation. The shutter release button is large and positioned readily so that a half-press focuses and a full-press fires. The viewfinder is clean and bright, though admittedly quite small. The camera’s buttons and levers are easily identifiable, and relatively simple to press (though the top mounted SELECT and SET buttons are tiny, the strap has a little tool attached to it for pressing these).

There’s an ON/OFF slider on the front of the camera which also serves as a lens cover. Slide it to ON, peer through the camera’s viewfinder, and press the button. Easy stuff.

The flash is powerful and bright, giving indoor portraits the early 2000s blown-out, ultra-white aesthetic for which Gen Z is currently experiencing vicarious nostalgia. Turning it off or cycling through the other few various flash modes is a matter of a button press, or two or three.

There’s a top-mounted liquid crystal display which is protected by a nicely convex shield of plastic. This screen shows pertinent information, such as how many exposures we’ve made on the roll of film, battery life, our TITLE mode and DATE information, and more. It’s a neat addition, though somewhat irrelevant, given the nature of APS point-and-shoot cameras. Typically, we just don’t really care about this stuff. We’re just going to literally point and shoot.

Remember? We’re morons.

There is no tripod socket. But that’s not really a problem. APS film users don’t own tripods.

The Canon Elph Shades Sunshine has the ability to print “titles” on the back of a print. By pressing the TITLE button on the back of the camera, we can choose one of six languages and one of five messages in each language; messages like “I Love You,” and “Thank You,” and “Happy Birthday.” How cute, though not of much use for those of us uninterested in printing low-quality APS film images (me).

[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.]

Image quality

There are two important things to remember when discussing image quality of APS film cameras.

First, in terms of image quality, APS film was always inferior to 35mm film.

Second, any APS film we find today will invariably be expired, which means that image quality is worse than ever.

Considerations considered, the Canon ELPH Shades Sunshine made decent photos in my week of testing. The expired film was indeed lower in contrast than it would have been when new, and some color shifts did present. However, sharpness and clarity from the little 23mm lens were fairly good when images were made in bright light or with the camera’s built-in flash.

There’s fairly significant ghosting, flaring, and distortion, as well as noticeably vignetting in my sample images.

The Canon ELPH Shades Sunshine is certainly not a good choice for times when image quality is important. But, hey, in times when a camera simply must look like an orange, there’s no better machine.

Final Thoughts

I suppose I could end on a metaphor.

If a camera is a fruit, then the photos are the juice. If that’s true, the ELPH Shades Sunshine is a bit spoiled. While not totally rotten or ready for the compost heap, it’s certainly past the sell-by date.

But I don’t think a camera like this needs to make great images. Or, to be honest, any images at all. It’s a gimmicky camera, a design exercise, a product to tickle the edge of our lips and remind us that, no, not all things have to be serious.

The Canon ELPH Shades Sunshine looks great sitting on a shelf in my office. It’s cheap and cute. I like its gimmick, and sometimes that’s enough.


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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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The Cinematic Point and Shoot – Minolta P’s (Freedom Vista) Review https://casualphotophile.com/2023/12/14/minolta-ps-review/ https://casualphotophile.com/2023/12/14/minolta-ps-review/#comments Thu, 14 Dec 2023 23:28:55 +0000 https://casualphotophile.com/?p=32026 The Minolta P's is a simple and cheap point and shoot camera with a neat gimmick - an ultra wide lens and panoramic aspect ratio!

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The Minolta P’s (or the Freedom Vista or Riva Panorama, depending where you are in the world) is a paradoxical camera. Going by the spec sheet, it’s hard to see why anyone would choose it. Besides a wide 24mm lens, a shutter button, self-timer and flash, it’s a camera seemingly lacking in features. It intentionally exposes less area of the film negative than almost all other 35mm cameras, and it does so to achieve an arguably gimmicky effect- “panorama” photos.

And yet the Minolta P’s’s interesting aspect ratio, punchy lens, and overall ethos make it a camera that I highly recommend to any photographer looking for a unique and rewarding challenge.

The Minolta P’s was made in 1991, a time when the automatic-everything point-and-shoot segment was running at full sprint. It was designed to be a consumer point-and-shoot, easy to use, and to shoot exclusively in a panoramic aspect ratio to capture landscapes and group shots. It was offered in a number of vibrant (and collectible) colors. Mine happens to be red.

It’s worth noting that one info-graphic inside the manual suggests that the P’s is the perfect camera to grab a vertical panorama of the Eiffel Tower (2024 Olympics, here I come).

Specifications of the Minolta P’s

  • Lens: 24 mm f/4,5 lens, manually operated lens barrier
  • Shutter speeds: 1/4 to 1/200 s. when flash is canceled
  • Flash: Built-in, range 0.9—2.7 meters (at ISO 100)
  • DX code speeds 100 & 400 ISO
  • Motor wind and rewind
  • Timer with warning light
  • Power: CR123 lithium battery
  • Weight and Dimensions: 185 grams, 11.6 x 6.2 x 3.4 cm

The Minolta P’s limitations are also the things that make it shine as a user’s camera.

As mentioned before, every frame made with the P’s is in a panoramic aspect ratio. The camera achieves this through a physically smaller film gate that only allows part of the film negative to be exposed. Many other point-and-shoot cameras of its era opt for this as an optional feature (for example, Pentax’s IQ Zoom series contains a number of models which have a Panorama/Normal switch that flips physical blinds at the top and bottom of the film gate). But the P’s leans hard into pano mode. You won’t be making a full frame image with this camera, no matter what, but being limited to this aspect ratio is the fun of it all.

The bright viewfinder is shaped accordingly, with frame lines and horizon guides so you can compose your panoramic scenes.

The flash, too, is limited, in that it can be overridden, but you have to press and hold the cancel it, meaning two hands are needed. This is rather annoying. Even the DX code reading is limited (this is an odd one that I haven’t encountered before). Take a look at how it’s described in the user manual:

“Film-speed setting: Automatically set to ISO 100 for DX-coded films rated slower than ISO 400, or to ISO 400 for DX-coded films rated ISO 400 or faster; ISO 100 set for films without DX-coding”

So, the Minolta P’s seemingly can read the DX code of a range of film, but defaults to exposing them at 100 or 400 only. At first, I was a bit confused and turned off by this. But in a way this can be a solution to another frustration found in most point-and-shoots; the inability to manually set our ISO. Depending on what film we load, this limitation can be somewhat hacked into an advantage – if we choose our film intentionally, it’s possible to overexpose our film of choice.

User Experience

I’ve spent the last few weeks carrying the Minolta P’s with me everywhere I went, intending to shoot it in all sorts of light. It was this everyday carry approach that really polished my opinion of the P’s, which is that I like this camera. It is so, damn, portable. Weighing almost nothing and being extremely slim, it’s among the most effortless cameras I’ve used.

And then there’s the cinematic aspect ratio.

I have a tendency to think of memories or moments in the form of cinematic scenes from a movie. The Minolta P’s’s aspect ratio quickly became second nature. It’s like plucking memories from my brain and placing them on film. Occasionally trying out a vertical composition worked in some cases, but I likely won’t go out of my way to do it again (unless I go to Paris sometime soon).

The lens is surprisingly good. It’s sharp enough, performed well in most lighting situations. It produced noticeable vignetting, but not obnoxiously so, and at times the vignetting added to the cinematic appeal of my shots. The wide lens does also produce some distortion toward the edges of the frame, though like the vignetting mentioned, it’s not too noticeable or offensive (unless we’re doing one of those vertical orientation shots with a person in frame).

I noticed that I reverted back to the days of my childhood, using a disposable camera. What am I talking about? Well, in more than a couple frames my finger made an appearance. Not a huge problem, and with the first roll out of the way I’m confident I’ll get used to proper hand placement, but readers with larger hands beware.

There are, of course, things that I don’t like about the camera. It’s not perfect, but that’s good. Perfect is boring.

My loudest complaint is that the flash is easily my least favorite part of the camera. It’s automatically ON by default, and though we can cancel it by holding down the flash cancel button, it’s not as fast or easy as it should be. To cancel the flash requires a workflow-freezing hold that lasts just a bit too long. A single press would have been better. But I’m really just upset that I ever have to use two hands with a camera this size.

Due to this first-world inconvenience, I opted to let the flash fly free for the majority of my first roll. Auto flash is something I’m used to with one of my favorite point and shoots the Kodak VR35 K12, which I’ve reviewed previously. But I quickly learned that the Minolta P’s has a deeply unflattering flash. It often seemed much too harsh for my taste.

Final thoughts

My favorite thing about The Minolta P’s is the creative challenge it brings. When I’m shooting a camera with every feature and setting under the sun, ironically that plethora of options can bring about an overwhelming abundance of choice and hamstring the process of simply existing and taking pictures. But the Minolta P’s is not a feature-packed fully-loaded beast of a camera. It’s just the opposite; an ultra-portable box that (literally) captures just a sliver of light. And it doesn’t hurt that it comes in a sleek, plastic, early-90s shell.

Limitations tend to enhance creativity. The boundaries of what we can and cannot control become a catalyst to finding ways to create something we may otherwise might not. The Minolta P’s foundational feature, the 35mm film panorama crop, usually gets the cold shoulder, or a snide comment that “You could just crop in post.” And that’s technically true. But picking up the Minolta P’s is a choice to accept the challenge of less. The challenge of limitations. It’s a choice to expose less of the film negative and not think it’s a waste. A choice to change your perspective figuratively and literally. Picking up the Minolta P’s is a choice to flex your creative muscle.

And More on the Minolta P’s:

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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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Nikon N2000 Review – a Stunningly Cheap Film Camera https://casualphotophile.com/2023/12/05/nikon-n2000-review/ https://casualphotophile.com/2023/12/05/nikon-n2000-review/#comments Tue, 05 Dec 2023 10:11:39 +0000 https://casualphotophile.com/?p=31974 James review the Nikon N2000, a superb value 35mm film SLR that's as good today as it was when it first released in 1985.

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Almost ten years ago, Casual Photophile sprung from the realization that there was a whole galaxy of cameras which nobody seemed to be talking about. At that time, many exceptional cameras could be found and bought for a tenth their original retail price, and yet they still functioned as well as the day they were made. It quickly became my favorite thing— to discover and to write about wonderful cameras and lenses which most people have forgotten. The Nikon N2000 is such a camera.

While not exactly forgotten by true camera nerds (many of my friends in the camera blogosphere have written reviews of this relatively hidden gem), the Nikon N2000 certainly fails to garner the kind of wide acclaim foisted upon other SLRs from the era of manual focus SLR dominance. Its popularity doesn’t come close to that of cameras like the Nikon F3, the Canon AE1 or the Pentax K1000, to pick three easy comparisons.

Which is strange, since the Nikon N2000 is better equipped than an F3, just as small as an AE1, and far more advanced than a K1000.

Why, then, don’t people squawk endlessly about it on YouTube? No idea. Don’t care. Let’s move on, so that I can get back to what I love— squawking endlessly about cameras that I like.

What is the Nikon N2000

First released in 1985, the Nikon N2000 (known as the Nikon F-301 in Japanese and European markets) is a manual focus 35mm film SLR camera using Nikon’s ubiquitous F mount lens system. As a replacement for the earlier Nikon FG, the N2000 was (and remains) a truly capable consumer-level camera with a number of surprising capabilities.

In fact, the N2000 represents a number of “firsts” in Nikon’s lineage.

It was the first Nikon camera with an integral motor drive. It was the first Nikon camera to use polycarbonate plastic extensively in its construction. It was the the first Nikon with DX-coding capability, and it was one of only four Nikon SLRs which was able to support the advanced exposure modes made possibly by Nikon’s AI-S F mount lenses (the others being the Nikon FA, the Nikon N2020, and the Nikon F4).

It’s a compact SLR, lightweight, surprisingly robust, easy-to-use and easy on the eyes. It’s powered by a common battery type (either four AAA batteries, or four AA batteries with an optional extended baseplate). It meters well, has multiple shooting modes, is equipped with one of the most versatile lens mounts in the history of photography, and can even beep at us when it’s angry.

The N2000 was, and still is, a solid, well-equipped, highly capable film camera. That said, it was short-lived.

By the mid-1980s, the autofocus era had truly arrived. Nikon was more than happy to push their manual focus past aside as AF was embraced by buyers in the lucrative entry-level market. The N2000 was quickly replaced by the far more modern and AF-equipped Nikon N4004s in 1987. (Tragic, because good lord, is that camera ugly.)

Specifications of the Nikon N2000

  • Camera Type – Integral-motor 35mm single lens reflex (full frame, 24 x 36mm image area)
  • Lens Mount – Nikon F mount
  • Exposure Modes – Program, Program Hi (for high speed shooting), Aperture Priority, Manual
  • Exposure Metering – Center weighted TTL metering, EV1 to EV19 at ISO 100 with f/1.4 lens
  • Shutter – Electronic vertical-travel focal-plane shutter
  • Shutter Speeds – Stepless speeds from 1 to 1/2000 second on Program, Program Hi, and Aperture Priority modes; non-stepless Manual mode speeds from 1 to 1/2000th second; Bulb mode for long exposures
  • Viewfinder – Fixed eye-level pentaprism; 0.85x magnification with 50mm lens; approx. 92% frame coverage
  • Focusing Screen – Fixed Nikon Type K2 with central non-shading split-image rangefinder circle, microprism collar, and matte-/Fresnal outer field; 12mm diameter reference circle denotes metering area
  • Viewfinder Info – Shutter speed LED readout; Over- and under-exposure warning LED’s; Ready light when using flash
  • Exposure Compensation Control – Plus or minus 2 Ev in one-third stop increments
  • Film Speed Range – ISO 25 to 4000 for DX-coded film; ISO 25 to 3200 for non-DX-coded film
  • Film Advance and Rewind : Automatic film advance up to 2.5 frames per second; manual rewind
  • Flash Sync – 1/125 second or slower with electronic flash
  • Additional Features – Frame counter, film type window in film door, audible warning alarm for multiple events, self-timer, red indicator LED, hot-shoe for flash and monitor, tripod socket, exposure lock

Using the Nikon N2000 Today

I’ve temporarily owned a dozen or more Nikon N2000s during my time as editor of this site and owner of a camera shop. I’ve shot a few examples of the same, here and there, over spans of weeks and months, and what has always struck me about the N2000 is just how quietly good it is.

But don’t confuse that with actual audible quietness. It’s not a quiet camera. It’s loud. But I don’t mind that. Like a Contax G2 or any good camera in a movie from the early 1990s, the Nikon N2000 makes all the right noises for a camera-liker like me. Its shutter chonks hard, its winder whirrs brightly, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

In the hand, the N2000 feels amazing. With its geometric grip, it balances one-handed better than something like a Nikon FE or a Canon AE1, cameras which are slippery in their gripless-ness. With a compact lens mounted, such as the 45mm Nikkor Pancake or the Nikon 50mm Series E, the camera is compact and subtle enough to be used as a travel and walkaround camera.

The camera’s F mount is capable of mounting any Nikon AI or AI-s lens. Naturally any third party lens made for the same mount will work as well. Only a few exceptions exist (see the manual for those).

The Nikon N2000’s controls rest exactly where they should, and handling the camera becomes second nature within just a few frames. By the end of the first roll of film I’m able to set shutter speed (or exposure mode), adjust exposure compensation, use the exposure lock, frame, and focus, all without ever taking my eye from the viewfinder or fumbling about with confusing dials and switches.

The viewfinder is informative and among the brightest viewfinders I’ve ever seen in a manual focus camera. This brightness, and the ample focusing aids packed into the fixed focusing screen, make manual focus fast and easy. Additionally, the in-VF LED display does everything I want it to do.

In manual mode, the bank of LEDs on the right-hand side of the VF shows our set shutter speed as well as a flashing speed recommendation based on the camera’s meter. In Aperture Priority mode, it shows the automatically selected shutter speed based on available light and the lens’ aperture, and when using the exposure lock it displays the locked speed and recommended setting. In program mode, the camera takes care of everything and the LEDs let us know what’s happening.

What’s missing from the VF is an indicator to show our selected lens aperture. While this is something that becomes known by feel over time, I wouldn’t have been upset if Nikon had managed to shoehorn that feature into this otherwise perfect viewfinder.

Set to single shot, the camera advances the film one frame after each shot. Set to continuous mode, the camera fires shot after shot at a pace as fast as 2.5 frames per second. Film rewind is manual – we only must remember to slide and press the two-factor authentication that is the camera’s rewind switch, and then crank the crank like on so many earlier manual cameras.

For the way that I use film cameras (aperture priority is my preferred mode, I like manual focus and single lens reflex shooting) the N2000 is an uncomplicated hit. It just works.

The Nitpicks

But not all is perfect. The N2000 does fail me in certain ways.

To start, the On/Off switch is annoying. It’s a spring-tension collar that surrounds the shutter release button. To turn the camera on or to select our drive mode, we pull it up from its L (locked) position and rotate it to either S (single shot) or C (continuous), and the motion just doesn’t feel good, being kind of vague and cheap. This is admittedly a minor annoyance, at most, but its an annoyance that’s felt every time I have to turn the camera on or off, or change drive modes from single to continuous.

Next, the tripod socket is positioned almost at the very edge of the bottom of the camera, so that when mounted to a tripod, the whole thing kind of dangles precariously with all of its weight on one side. Another nitpick, for sure, and one that will rarely impact me or anyone else. But I’m paid to complain.

Lastly, the exposure compensation dial has an egregiously protective locking feature whereby it is impossible to adjust the exposure comp by even one increment without pressing and holding down the lock button.

My very favorite method of shooting is to shoot in aperture priority, and to rely heavily on exposure compensation control as I’m reading the scene. If the subject is backlit, for example, I like to use exposure comp, or if the metering circle of the center-weighted meter happens to be in an area that’s extra dark or extra light, I will typically notice that and compensate accordingly. But with this dial’s lock, the process becomes tedious and frustrating, so that eventually I end up attempting to achieve my exposure compensation through use of the AE lock (which is hit or miss, and even more frustrating).

Other minor grumbles include the following: There’s no depth-of-field preview; the camera won’t work without batteries; it’s made out of plastic; there’s no cable-release thread on the shutter release; there’s no mirror lock-up; there’s no shutter blind. None of these things bother me, but they might bother you.

[Above: The Nikon N2000 makes great shots with all types of lenses and in all types of light. It just works.]

Final Thoughts

We all love cameras. But the cameras we all seem to love best are the ones that surprise us with their capability and quality at an equally surprising low price. The Nikon N2000 is just such a camera. Fitted with a standard, compact Nikon lens, it’s hard to think of another manual focus camera that outperforms the N2000. Especially when we consider that a used Nikon N2000 can be bought for about $50.

However, there is one big reason that a certain type of camera-liker might not like the N2000. If you’re the kind of photo nerd who can’t abide manual focus, the N2000 is a non-starter. It’s manual focus only, and that’s the end of that.

But if the N2000 sounds just right in all ways but one. If the only thing holding you back is that nagging little lack of autofocus, worry not. Nikon made an almost identical camera, called the N2020, which is nothing less than the very excellent N2000, but with autofocus. Wow. What a time to be alive.


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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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The Canon EOS Rebel XS – Anonymity, Autofocus, and Andre Agassi https://casualphotophile.com/2023/12/04/canon-eos-rebel-review/ https://casualphotophile.com/2023/12/04/canon-eos-rebel-review/#comments Mon, 04 Dec 2023 15:47:21 +0000 https://casualphotophile.com/?p=31941 In the1990s, Canon launched their new EOS Rebel camera with one of the defining marketing campaigns of the decade – “Image Is Everything.”

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In the early 1990s, the Canon Camera Corporation launched their new consumer-focused Canon EOS Rebel camera with one of the defining marketing campaigns of the decade – “Image Is Everything.” The commercials featured Canon’s then-new autofocus-equipped EOS Rebel (EOS Kiss in Japanese markets) camera, wielded by a young and upcoming tennis player named Andre Agassi.

And there he was, on the TV screen, all highlighter bright shirts, denim shorts and sunglasses, pulling up in a white Lamborghini Countach, firing off that famous backhand right at our freakin’ faces and telling us that yes, image is indeed everything, and we absolutely needed a new Canon EOS Rebel to capture that image.

Agassi’s brash new-kid-on-the-block visage was the perfect marketing vehicle for the new Canon EOS Rebel, itself a new thing for the consumer SLR market. Gone were the angles of the 1980s, in came the ergonomic curves of the ’90s. Canon banked upon the same idea that propelled the AE-1 to stardom; the idea that they could make technology cheaper and more easily mass-produced, seducing the consumer and youth market with auto-everything and lower prices, thereby dominating the autofocus future for years to come.

Today we see that they succeeded, unequivocally. The radical design of the Canon EOS Rebels became the de facto, even hegemonic style of both consumer and professional SLR design to this day. But the thing about time passing is just that – it passes. Things get old. Over thirty years, Agassi’s once exciting, trailblazing power-baseline style of tennis has become the standard baseline game tennis fans complain about, his bright visual style has been parroted by Nike, Adidas, and every athletic wear manufacturer over the same span of time, and Canon’s once radically new camera design is just How Cameras Look Now, I Guess. What was once innovative became commonplace; what once was a landmark became just another part of the landscape.

But is that fair to a camera so influential?

I was confronted by this question one day when I found a nearly pristine Canon EOS Rebel XS on the shelf at my neighborhood thrift store. Cameras like this would usually be placed on display behind the counter along with the other film cameras (common practice, as the thrift stores in my area have gotten wise to the film renaissance), but for some reason this was just left on the electronics shelf, priced at a paltry fifteen dollars. I figured something may have been wrong with it, but, nope – the camera’s battery compartment was clean and clear of corrosion, and the body, shutter, and 35-80mm lens showed barely any signs of usage. I took a chance and took it home, stuck a couple CR123A batteries in it, and it sprang to life. The LCD display lit up, the plastic dials still had a brand new snap to them, and the lens’s autofocus was as quick and quiet as ever.

Just like that, I had a basically new autofocus SLR and lens for the price of a roll of Cinestill 800T (need B&H affiliate link).

I was initially surprised that such a famous-in-its-day camera was left on the shelf and priced so low, but then I realized that, even to people who know, this is the least exciting, least exotic camera. For over thirty years, companies have made a million other plastic autofocus SLRs, digital or otherwise, that look and operate almost exactly as this one. Even more primitive cameras like the Canon F-1 or the Canon AE-1 command more respect and possess more individual character – even within the Canon EOS lineup, the original Rebels seem boring.

But when we look at the design of the EOS Rebel line (especially this Canon EOS Rebel XS) in the context of the early ’90s, we find a radical departure from traditional camera design, and a remarkably well-executed exercise in extreme utilitarianism.

The design sensibilities of the previous decades aren’t just evolved or avoided. They’re jettisoned entirely. Canon’s EOS cameras instead maximize ergonomics and ease-of-use. The hand grip dominates the camera, while sleek lines curve around the control panel, pentaprism, and lens surround, flowing with no definitive stopping point. While these concepts weren’t new, they found themselves pushed to their conceptual extreme, making a totally new blobby kind of camera design to ring in the ’90s, the same philosophy that produced rotund machines like the 1990’s Ford Taurus and the Sega Genesis controller. But unlike those two, this camera seems to have escaped its associations with the era – it seems like it could’ve been made in the 2000s just as easily as it could’ve been made in the early 1990s. Even more curious, the design does not elicit the “timeless” moniker from camera geeks the way a Nikon F2 or a Leica M-series camera does, though it arguably shares a more direct relationship with modern cameras than either of those two. For however radical, important, and influential these early AF cameras were and are, they seem to now just be a part of the wallpaper of 21st century living.

1990s autofocus SLRs like the Canon EOS Rebel XS present many contradictions. Perhaps a bigger contradiction is one that James already handled in his paean for the so-called “Dorky AF SLR.” I’ll paraphrase – though indeed dorky, these AF SLRs from the ’90s represent the peak of 35mm SLR technology, and are the best pure user film cameras out there at any level. The EOS Rebel XS is much the same; it was marketed squarely at consumers, but offered an astonishingly comprehensive set of features which in the past could only have been found scattered across multiple cameras.

It has an electronically-controlled shutter with a range from half a second to 1/2000th of a second, full TTL flash metering, standard evaluative (Matrix) metering with a center-weighted AE lock override, auto film winding, one-shot autofocus, AI servo autofocus, and manual focus override, and full PASM exposure selection with specialized portrait, sports, close-up, and landscape modes. It even features a built-in flash for use in a pinch, a programmable multiple exposure mode, and a separate aperture priority mode that prioritizes deep depth of field. I know there’s a lot to be said for all-manual everything, manual focus cameras (and I will be the first to defend them), but almost every major technological advancement in photography up until 1990 is present in a Canon EOS Rebel, and for cheap. That’s incredibly hard to argue against.

It is then no wonder that Canon sold boatloads of these cameras. It adhered to the simple math that Canon previously used to sell the Canon AE-1, AE-1 Program, and Canon A-1  – make the most features available for the least amount of money (¥89000 with the 35-80mm f/3.5-5.6 lens, ¥59000 body only). The substitution of a mirror box instead of a full pentaprism, and the wholesale replacement of metal with plastic made it cheaper and lighter, making these technologies accessible to casual shooters as well as improving Canon’s bottom line. This is anathema to shooters who demand mechanical quality, but such was the deal Canon made to remain the rulers of consumer photography.

The experience of shooting an old EOS Rebel XS is one that is shockingly modern and simple. The full shooting experience is as follows: load some film and the camera will automatically roll out the entire film into the take up spool and wind it backwards with every shot. Pick a shooting mode, and watch the relevant adjustable values show up on the LCD screen. Pick either an aperture or shutter speed value using the single multipurpose dial (or not, if the camera is on a programmed auto-exposure setting) and look through the viewfinder, which provides a full LCD readout of the settings, plus a light meter display. Then half press the shutter button to focus, compose, and shoot until the roll’s done, at which point the film will have already rolled itself back into the canister.

The EOS Rebel XS’s design emphasis on extreme utilitarianism works – it’s ludicrously simple to shoot. Every immediately essential function of the camera of the Rebel XS lies perfectly under each finger and is accessible with the press of one distinct button or dial setting, with secondary functions (of which there are only a couple) accessible with two movements, maximum.

If AE lock is needed, just press the AE lock button. If the flash is needed, press the flash button. If the self timer is needed, press the self timer button. And if exposure compensation is needed, hold down the exposure comp button and select a value with the dial. The camera can be set to take the reins yet does not lock the shooter into a programmed auto-exposure mode – everything can be overridden, and overridden easily (even, to my surprise, the ISO setting). This shooting interface makes sense to me, even as a staunch supporter of mechanical dials and buttons. It keeps me feeling connected and in complete control, which is something that I can’t say for later automated 35mm AF SLRs.

The ingenuity and novelty of the EOS Rebel XS did, however, come at some price. The auto-everything, purely utilitarian design discarded the tactility and outright romance of the manual focus cameras of before, a move that again alienated purists and collectors. What’s more, this design philosophy eventually birthed the multi-purpose button, the practice of menu diving, and the endless fiddling with settings that drives digital SLR and mirrorless shooters crazy, and makes them seek comparatively simple and primitive mechanical film cameras as refuge. I suspect it is this quality that keeps the prices of these cameras low, and their cultural cachet being near nonexistent regardless of their actual performance.

However, the irony of the Canon EOS Rebel XS is that while it offers a modern user interface, its age ensures it is not as overwhelming to use as a modern machine. Even though the shooting interface is modern, this camera was still released in 1993 — time hadn’t yet given camera companies the opportunity to *ahem* transform these cameras into the feature-bloated, inscrutable, aesthetically anonymous cameras we’ve come to know as DSLRs in the 21st century. There are no menus, no hidden technologies that take over, no display hieroglyphics to decode before you take the shot. It is as raw and direct as one can get in this genre of camera, and a breath of fresh air.

But even if the Canon EOS Rebel XS was a total chore to shoot, it still would be worth its ludicrously low price simply because it mounts the full range of Canon EF mount lenses. The camera came with a perfectly versatile Canon EF 35-80mm f/4-5.6 kit lens, but really comes into its own with Canon’s professional lenses.

Canon’s L lenses are quite literally the industry standard (and have been for over thirty years) and can be mounted natively onto the humble EOS Rebel XS. The prospect of 50mm f/1.2L, the 24mm f/1.4L, the gargantuan 400mm f/2.8L, and more is a tantalizing (and slightly hilarious) one, and also points us to a key characteristic of these consumer EOS Rebel film bodies – they’re a ridiculously cheap way to access full frame in the EOS system, and can function as a second film body to full-frame DSLR’s. At prices consistently under $60 ($15 in my case – got lucky), it’s a no-brainer.

There are, however, three real drawbacks to the Canon EOS Rebel XS. The first is its construction which, as mentioned before, is nearly completely plastic. This is less of a big deal considering the low prices of these bodies, but still concerning if the camera is being used in rough environments and situations. As with any camera, try to find a good example and roll with it, and try to find a backup too. They’re cheap and plentiful.

The second is the quality of the autofocus. While the EOS Rebel XS does offer AI servo autofocus (which enables subject tracking) and a so-called wide AF zone (which enables a wider range of autofocus), this still is a very primitive AF system. Being from 1993 and being a consumer model, this early AF system hunts quite often and can miss focus if the shooter isn’t paying attention. It should be noted that I did miss a few frames with this initially, but got used to it as I got acclimated to the camera itself. Even though this camera bears a striking resemblance to newer AF cameras, prospective shooters should not expect the acrobatics of newer AF SLRs or DSLRs.

The third drawback is a little more subjective, but ultimately points to what I think makes this camera important to shoot today. For all the technology crammed into it, for however new it was at the time, this camera is almost disturbingly normal. Not unremarkable, not ugly, not inconsequential, but just… normal. Compared to other cameras, the big boys of the segment, the Canon EOS-1v, Nikon’s F6, the Minolta A9’s of the world, or even the Nikon N90s or later Canon Elan 7s, there’s just not much that makes this camera stand out, even though its design laid the foundation of consumer autofocus SLRs for decades to come.

But after pondering it for a while, one thing stands out about this EOS Rebel XS. Oddly enough, that thing (person, rather) is… Andre Agassi.

The marketing admittedly worked on me – I can’t look at the EOS Rebel logo without thinking about him and that ad campaign (which, for different reasons, actually affected Agassi himself). Agassi’s hard-hitting, power baseline style was once radical and new, but by the time his career ended, it had become the de facto style, and was even decried by some as “ruining the game.” Yet, when we look back at the actual highlights of Agassi in his prime we can see why everybody started to play like him. Look closer and we see, with every perfectly struck backhand winner, with every impossible return off the Sampras serve, that nobody was able to do it quite like Agassi. He moved the game forward.

The Canon EOS Rebel XS and the rest of the early autofocus SLRs could and should be considered along those lines. The EOS Rebel was revolutionary in its day, and today remains maybe one of the best and most influential consumer camera lines ever made, no matter what reputation time foists upon it. I don’t know what the future holds in the world of film photography, but it would be interesting to see these SLRs in the hands of shooters just as often as we see the Nikon F3 or Leica M6. It would only be fitting – after all, the man who to whom this camera was inextricably tied eventually grew up, shed his image-obsessed reputation, and made a comeback on his own terms.

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