CINEMAGIC: COMPLETED COLLECTION... AFTER 25 YEARS!!!

Some quests we choose. Others seem to choose us. Like the one I began twenty-five years ago — almost without noticing — and that, yesterday, finally came to an end.

Since childhood, when shooting imaginary Super-8 films often took priority over my school homework, I was a loyal reader of Movie Maker (UK) and Super 8 Filmmaker (USA), both sold at a newsstand in my city (which, sadly, closed its shutters in 2024). I still keep complete collections of both magazines — in the case of Movie Maker, even bound by year, lined up proudly in my archive.

But it wasn’t until well into this century that I discovered, through whispers from fellow American cinephiles, a publication that seemed tailor-made for me: Cinemagic.

This was no ordinary magazine. It began as a humble fanzine in the late '70s in the United States and gradually evolved into a full-fledged professional publication throughout the 1980s — dedicated entirely to the kind of cinema I love most: Super 8, practical special effects crafted with ingenuity and patience (not mouse clicks), and glorious stop motion on real film. A magazine that breathed the same creative spirit I’ve always aspired to capture in my own work. Oh, if only I’d found it as a teenager — my life might have taken a very different turn.

Once I knew Cinemagic existed, a new mission took shape — or rather, it chose me: to assemble the complete collection.

It’s been a search worthy of a monastic librarian — slow, quiet, and full of hope. Some issues came as unexpected gifts from generous fellow filmmakers. Others were hunted down at collectors’ fairs or through the darker corners of eBay, sometimes for a song… and sometimes at prices fit for medieval manuscripts.

About a year ago, I thought the mission was complete. I had all the issues — except one. Issue No. 32. That elusive, cursed issue slipped through my fingers twice: always scooped up at the last moment by an American who clicked faster — or stayed up later — than I did.

Until a few days ago.

An alert arrived. The price was fair. And this time… I won.

I feared it might vanish somewhere between the U.S. and Galicia, Spain — lost in the bureaucratic abyss of customs and tariffs. But no: yesterday it arrived, beautifully packaged, still smelling of old American shelves and waiting to be devoured.

I began reading it last night, during dinner, with the same giddy anticipation I felt as a boy opening my first packets of freshly developed Kodachrome reels.

This issue brought an extra surprise — a real gem: a letter to the editor signed by none other than Ray Harryhausen himself. Yes, the master of stop motion. He was a Cinemagic subscriber. That alone is worth the hunt.

And so, with this issue, the collection is now truly complete. And, if I may be so bold, it might just be the only complete Cinemagic collection in all of Europe.

Last night, I slept like a baby. Or better yet: I slept with a letter from Ray waiting for me on the nightstand.