A reminiscence to the early days of amateur film movie cameras
I can’t imagine anybody in our club, or any other club, saying
with conviction: "I never make mistakes!”. It’s laughable to think about
and small dangers will often cause a laugh. But a bloomer not realised
till after an event that you thought you had covered is not funny - just
frustrating!
When I was eleven years old, just a year or two ago, I
became extremely fascinated by movies. That Christmas I received an exciting
present: a 9.5mm Pathe Bingascope Projector, and with it a number of short
films in well-made mini-Pathescope cartridges. It was hand operated and the
films only lasted about one and a quarter minutes. My brother and I lay in
bed and projected the films onto the ceiling; we watched with excitement as
a lion came towards us in the jungle closer and closer and cranked the
projector more slowly as the face filled the frame! When, at a later date, I
was asked what I would like for my birthday, I said: “Oh! I would like a
longer film!”. My aunt sent me a four minute spool of 16mm film, but I
couldn’t run that on the Bingascope! The mistake I made was not telling her
it was 9.5MM, apart from forgetting that it would only take the mini
cartridges. From then on I became interested in a larger gauge, especially
when I saw a friend of my parents with a 16mm camera in a smart leather
ease. I could only think about it, for it was a very expensive hobby in
those days, but the mechanics of film fascinated me. It had a strong stand
and a large transformer that got quite hot. Being silent it was surplus
to the
association who used it because they had purchased a 16mm sound
projector. I began collecting 35mm films from various sources including
dingy places in Wardour Street piled high with film cans.
But it was so big. I also got a few electric shocks and the very flammable
films made me nervous. Realising it was a museum piece and I hadn’t the
space for a museum, it had to be sold!
I don’t know what happened to
the reel of 16mm film, but a very long time went by and my next venture took
me back to 9.5mm and I purchased a Coronet camera. I was fascinated by the
mechanics, which had a Maltese Cross mechanism. This is normally a very
efficient device for a smooth intermittent film pull down. So I took it on
holiday with several cans of Boucher 9.5mm, each containing three
thirty-feet rolls of film. This I loaded into the 9.5mm camera cassettes in
dead of night -about a thousand feet all together. That was my big mistake!
I didn’t test the camera on a short length of film first. The Maltese Cross
mechanism was worn and the result was jumping up and down as if on a
trampoline!
So I sold the Coronet and bought a Deko, a nice neat
little camera which produced a steady picture. I took this camera on holiday
and it was quite exciting to use. Next I purchased a Specto dual 9.5mm/l6mm
projector (which I still possess), although I was really hankering after a
16mm so, in anticipation, it had to be a dual machine.
I browsed in
various camera
shops and picked up a very sturdy 16mm Bell Howell camera. It was so
simple to use. By pressing the one button down a little way it ran
continually, or right down then releasing quickly caused it to keep
running (normally on a tripod) for up to 30 seconds, or a quick press
would expose a single frame. The picture produced was very steady; I
almost wish I had kept it now as an interesting exhibit, but I still
hadn’t got room for a museum! I decided that it would be interesting to
examine the clockwork mechanism and give it a service and clean up. What
a mistake to make! I somehow managed to dislodge the spring and it flew
Out dangerously to form a three feet spiral. It took me some time, with
difficulty, to get it back into place again!
I sold that camera
in part exchange for a 16mm Bolex with a three-lens turret and variable
shutter. It was the flagship lightweight camera both for amateur and
professional use at the time. But, even in those days, colour film was
so expensive that I had to make most films in Black and White. The
picture definition was extremely good and it was a joy to edit.
Oh for those exciting days when film would break and you couldn’t find
your splicer, the cement went off and, if not careful, your shooting
ratio clocked up in pounds per second.
Hey Ho! Video seems almost
boring after all that.
Happy filming!
John Woolmer
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