HOW TO SHOOT SUPER-8 FROM SCRATCH (LESSON 1). Cómo filmar en Súper-8 desde cero (entrega 1).

(En español, al final). 

Lesson 1 — Introduction

When I started this blog, My World in Super-8 (in Spanish, "Mi mundo en Súper-8"), I had only a small group of friends in mind,  people who already knew the format and shared with me the passion, or perhaps the stubbornness, of continuing to shoot real film in an age dominated by video technology. Over the years, the number of readers has grown far beyond what I ever expected, reaching well over one and a half million page views, and I now receive more and more messages from young people who want to start from zero but simply do not know where to begin.

Leicina Special Super-8 camera in Greenland

This new section is the result. It will take the form of a practical course, written in weekly installments, intended for those who have never shot Super-8 before but feel the curiosity, or even the need, to work with real cinema, with photochemical film, with all its limitations, and also with its extraordinary expressive power.

24 f.p.s. Eumig Nautica in Spitsbergen

Before we begin, it is important to remember something that many people do not know: if Super-8 still exists today, it is not because of inertia, and not because of nostalgia, but thanks to the determination of a very small number of people, and especially to Phil Vigeant and Rhonda Schuster Vigeant, founders of Pro 8mm, whose contribution to cinematography was recognized with their admission to the American Society of Cinematographers, an almost unheard-of distinction in the world of small-gauge film.

 Shooting Vision 50 negative Súper-8 film at 77°37′S 163°00′E in Antarctica

In 1992, when Super-8 was fading and widely considered dead, when Kodak itself  (the inventor of the format ),  refused to support it and rejected the idea of supplying negative film for Super-8, Phil Vigeant decided to take the risk on his own, investing roughly one million dollars at the time in industrial machinery, including perforators and processing equipment, in order to adapt professional motion-picture film to Super-8 cartridges. That decision changed the destiny of the format, because it opened the door to a new and far more demanding use of Super-8, one that has continued to grow as scanning technology improved, allowing negative film to reach levels of quality that would have been unimaginable thirty years ago.

1993: Phil Vigeant introduce super-8 negative stock for first time

Ironically, Kodak eventually followed the same path, and today the sale of Super-8 negative film is one of the key factors that keeps the format alive.

This course is born with a double purpose: first, to teach from the beginning anyone who wants to start; second, to prove that Super-8 is not a toy, and not just an aesthetic effect, but a format capable of going as far as the ambition of the filmmaker who uses it.

Could someone one day win an Oscar shooting on Super-8?
I see no reason why not. And when that day comes, I would like to think that one of those filmmakers may have started by reading these pages.

To be continued.

Super-8 editing with a Fujifilm polyester tape splicer

CÓMO FILMAR EN SÚPER-8 DESDE CERO

Entrega 1 — Introducción

Cuando inicié esta bitácora, "Mi mundo en Súper-8", lo hice pensando en un pequeño grupo de amigos que ya conocían el formato y compartían conmigo el entusiasmo,  o quizá la obstinación, por seguir filmando en película en una época dominada por el video. Con el tiempo, el número de lectores ha ido creciendo hasta superar ampliamente el millón y medio de páginas leídas, y cada vez con más frecuencia recibo mensajes de personas jóvenes que quieren empezar desde cero y no saben por dónde hacerlo.

Por ese motivo nace esta nueva sección, que tendrá forma de curso práctico, escrito en entregas semanales, pensado para quien nunca ha filmado en Súper-8, pero siente la curiosidad, o incluso la necesidad, de trabajar con cine real, con película fotoquímica, con sus limitaciones y también con su extraordinaria capacidad expresiva.

Antes de empezar, conviene recordar algo que muchos desconocen: si hoy el Súper-8 sigue existiendo, no es por inercia ni por nostalgia, sino gracias al empeño de muy pocas personas, y muy especialmente del matrimonio formado por Phil Vigeant y Rhonda Schuster Vigeant, fundadores de Pro 8mm, cuyo mérito fue reconocido con su ingreso en la American Society of Cinematographers (ASC), algo absolutamente excepcional en el ámbito del paso estrecho.

En 1992, cuando el Súper-8 languidecía y se le daba por muerto, cuando la propia Kodak, su inventora, no quería apostar por él y rechazó la idea de suministrar película negativa para este formato, Phil Vigeant decidió asumir el riesgo por su cuenta, invirtiendo aproximadamente un millón de dólares de la época en la compra de maquinaria industrial, incluyendo reperforadoras y equipos de procesado, para poder adaptar película profesional al cartucho de Súper-8. Aquella decisión cambió el destino del formato, porque abrió la puerta a un uso nuevo, mucho más exigente, que con el tiempo no ha dejado de crecer conforme las técnicas de digitalización del negativo han alcanzado niveles de calidad impensables hace treinta años.

Paradójicamente, la propia Kodak terminó siguiendo ese mismo camino, y hoy la venta de película negativa en Súper-8 es uno de los pilares que mantienen vivo el formato.

Este cursillo nace, por tanto, con un doble propósito:
el primero, enseñar desde cero a quien quiera empezar;
el segundo, demostrar que el Súper-8 no es un juguete ni un simple recurso estético, sino un formato capaz de llegar tan lejos como la ambición de quien lo utiliza.

¿Puede alguien ganar algún día un Óscar rodando en Súper-8?
Cuando llegue ese día, que estoy seguro veremos,  me gustaría pensar que alguno de los que lo consigan empezó leyendo estas páginas.

Continuará.

FUJIFILM: WILL IT DISHONOUR THE “FILM” IN ITS OWN NAME? Fujifilm: ¿deshonrará el "film" de su propio nombre?

(Versión en español al final)

On October 1st, 2006, the Japanese company Fuji Photo Film Co., Ltd. officially adopted the name FUJIFILM Holdings Corporation, under the leadership of Shigetaka Komori, who had taken control of the company in 2000 and became CEO in 2003, guiding a radical transformation intended to prevent Fujifilm from suffering the same fate that would later overtake Kodak during the collapse of analog photography.

My mother Julia looking at an Instax photograph three days before she passed away

Komori led Fujifilm into a deep diversification, expanding the company into fields as distant from traditional imaging as medicine, biotechnology and cosmetics. Yet, significantly, he chose to keep the word “Film” in the corporate name. This was not a nostalgic decision, but a philosophical one: according to Komori himself, the advanced technologies that ultimately saved the company — from collagen-based skin products to sophisticated nanotechnology — were born directly from decades of experience in manufacturing photographic film.

Instax photographs in Antarctica

Komori did not retire after the name change; on the contrary, he remained at the head of the company for more than two decades, finally stepping down from his executive roles in 2021 after having turned Fujifilm into a global technological giant, continuing thereafter as senior advisor.

Black and white panorama with Instax film

Today, the name Fujifilm still reflects that chemical and photographic DNA, even though most of the company’s revenue no longer comes from traditional film. In fiscal year 2025, Fujifilm reported revenues of approximately 21.092 billion dollars, of which nearly one billion dollars came from Instax instant film alone.
To put this into perspective, the total revenue of Kodak, across all its divisions, is around 1.043 billion dollars, and the entire motion-picture film business represents little more than 100 million, within a larger division (Advanced Materials and Chemicals) of roughly 300 million.

It is therefore striking that a comparatively small company such as Kodak continues to manufacture all of its film stocks, while Fujifilm — a giant swimming in prosperity, and earning almost as much from Instax alone as Kodak does in total — forbids the use of its excellent reversal films Fujichrome Velvia and Fujichrome Provia for re-spooling into Single-8 cartridges, the very format created by Fuji in 1965, and the Trojan horse that allowed the company to enter Western markets at a time when its name was virtually unknown outside Japan.

 

Small independent companies such as RETRO ENTERPRISES, of Tokyo, have tried to keep the Single-8 format alive by re-loading modern film into the Single-8 cartridges, a practice that would not cause Fujifilm the slightest financial loss, and would in fact help preserve a part of its own technological heritage. Yet the company refuses to allow it.

Polaroid Polavision film loaded in a Single-8 cartridge

There is something paradoxical in seeing a corporation that proudly claims its chemical and photographic legacy showing so little gratitude toward one of the systems, the Single-8,  that made its international expansion possible.

Fuji ZC1000 single-8 camera: the best motion picture film camera ever built

As for myself, I continue to reload Single-8 cartridges in the darkroom using Kodak film, an activity that my pupil Alex and I carry out strictly for our own use, never commercially. And I cannot help thinking that it is a pity that Fujifilm, without losing a single yen, does not allow others to keep alive the format that it once created. Some corporate decisions seem dictated more by pride than by reason and one cannot help wondering whether the day will come when the company will decide to remove the word Film from its own name.

Kodak Super-8 frame

(Versión en español)

El 1 de octubre de 2006, la compañía japonesa Fuji Photo Film Co., Ltd. adoptó oficialmente el nombre de FUJIFILM Holdings Corporation, bajo la presidencia de Shigetaka Komori, quien había asumido el control de la empresa en el año 2000 y se convirtió en CEO en 2003, liderando una transformación radical destinada a evitar el destino que correría Kodak durante la crisis de la fotografía analógica.

Komori condujo a Fujifilm hacia una diversificación profunda, expandiendo la compañía hacia sectores tan alejados de la imagen tradicional como la medicina, la biotecnología o la cosmética. Sin embargo, de forma significativa, decidió conservar la palabra “Film” en el propio nombre corporativo. No fue una elección sentimental, sino filosófica: según el propio Komori, las tecnologías avanzadas que permitieron salvar la empresa —desde el uso del colágeno en productos dermatológicos hasta la nanotecnología aplicada a nuevos materiales— procedían directamente de décadas de experiencia en la fabricación de película fotográfica.

Komori no se retiró inmediatamente tras el cambio de nombre, sino que permaneció al frente durante más de veinte años, culminando su etapa ejecutiva en 2021, cuando pasó a desempeñar el papel de asesor principal después de haber convertido a Fujifilm en un gigante tecnológico global.

Hoy, el nombre Fujifilm continúa recordando ese origen químico y fotográfico, aunque la mayor parte de los ingresos de la compañía ya no proceden de la película tradicional. En el año fiscal 2025, Fujifilm facturó aproximadamente 21.092 millones de dólares, de los cuales cerca de 1.000 millones correspondieron exclusivamente a la película instantánea Instax.
Para poner esta cifra en perspectiva, la facturación total de Kodak en todas sus divisiones ronda los 1.043 millones de dólares, y el negocio estrictamente relacionado con película cinematográfica apenas supera los 100 millones, dentro de una división mayor (Advanced Materials and Chemicals) que alcanza unos 300 millones.

Resulta, por ello, especialmente llamativo que una compañía hoy relativamente pequeña como Kodak continúe fabricando todas sus líneas de película, mientras que Fujifilm, convertida en un gigante que nada en la abundancia y que sólo con Instax factura casi tanto como toda Kodak, prohíba que sus excelentes películas reversibles Fujichrome Velvia y Fujichrome Provia sean reenvasadas por empresas independientes para el formato Single-8, el sistema que la propia Fuji creó en 1965 y que fue, en gran medida, el caballo de Troya que permitió a la compañía darse a conocer en Occidente cuando todavía era prácticamente desconocida fuera de Japón.

Pequeñas empresas como Retro Enterprises, en Tokio, han intentado mantener vivo el formato Single-8 mediante el reenvasado artesanal de película Fujichrome moderna, algo que no perjudicaría económicamente a Fujifilm y que, por el contrario, contribuiría a preservar una parte de su propia historia tecnológica. Sin embargo, la compañía se opone a ello.

No deja de ser paradójico que quien tanto insiste en la importancia de su herencia química y fotográfica se muestre tan poco agradecido con uno de los sistemas, el Single-8,  que hicieron posible su expansión internacional.

En mi caso personal, sigo recargando cartuchos de Single-8 en cuarto oscuro con película Kodak, en una actividad que realizo únicamente para uso propio, junto con mi pupilo Alex, sin ningún propósito comercial. Y no puedo evitar pensar que es una lástima que Fujifilm, sin perder un solo céntimo, no permita que otros mantengan vivo el formato que ella misma creó.

Hay decisiones empresariales que parecen más dictadas por la soberbia que por la lógica. Por ello, uno no puede dejar de preguntarse si llegará el día en que la compañía decida eliminar también la palabra Film de su propio nombre.

LED CONVERSION OF A SUPER-8 EDITOR. Conversión a LED de una moviola para Súper-8

(TEXTO EN ESPAÑOL, AL FINAL)

The traditional weakness of Super-8 viewer-editors — has always been the limited brightness of their screen, a direct consequence of the fact that most models were designed to operate with a modest 6V 10W tungsten lamp, the same type of bulb that for decades could easily be found in motorcycle shops, but whose yellowish light is not only dim, but clearly insufficient for anyone who spends long hours inspecting film, editing footage, or preparing telecine transfers with a minimum of visual comfort.

On the right, LED lamp on editor

Many years ago I tried to improve the situation by replacing, in all my editors, the original lamps with their 6V 10W halogen equivalent, which provided slightly higher intensity and a somewhat whiter light, although at the cost of producing considerably more heat, something that forced me to be cautious during long sessions. For a time this was an acceptable solution, until the only shop in my city that still sold these halogen bulbs closed after the pandemic, leaving me with a small stock which, as happens with everything in the photochemical world, we know will not last forever.

Moviola with halogen lamp

Not long ago, the Anglo-British-Spanish engineer Martin M. Ten, from MMT, converted one of my Bauer sound editors into a high-quality digital sound reader, designed to extract synchronous sound during film digitization, a modification I described in my blog at the time. That Bauer returned home not only with a flawless digital system, but also with an extremely bright LED illumination, part of Martin’s design, whose technical quality is simply beyond question (CLICK HERE).

However, such a solution, perfect for advanced transfer work, does not necessarily answer the needs of everyday film editing, where one often does not require digital sound or complex electronics, but simply only more light and the peace of mind of not depending on halogen bulbs that are becoming harder and harder to find.

With that in mind, I consulted the problem with a true wizard of light, José Luís, probably the leading specialist in maritime lighting in Galicia, working under the name I & L Technologies, whose experience with optical systems designed to operate for years without failure allows him to approach this kind of conversion with uncommon authority.

New lamp housed machined by José Luis

The solution he proposes is not a simple bulb replacement, but a real technical transformation: each editor must be sent to his workshop, where the lamp housing is machined to install a high-quality LED with its proper heat sink, resistors are added, the circuitry is modified, and the whole system is adjusted so the new light source works in optimal conditions, without overheating and without stressing the original components.

6.000 degrees Kelvin

The result is remarkable even for those of us used to improving our equipment: a clean, stable white light —not bluish, but neutral, with 6.000 degrees Kelvin and a CRI of 80— that makes halogen illumination look weak and the old tungsten light almost archaic, obtained with a German-made LED, not a Chinese one, running at only thirty percent of its capacity, which means its lifetime is measured not in years, but in decades.

And how much does such a conversion cost, carried out by hand and with first-class components? Only 195 euros.

Quite possibly the best 195 euros any Super-8 enthusiast can spend, if he does not need the sophistication of MMT digital sound, but does want only a perfect illumination in his editor for a lifetime.

LED light looks sharper

TEXTO EN ESPAÑOL. Contactos en azul.

El problema tradicional de las visionadoras, o moviolas, de Súper-8 ha sido siempre la escasa potencia luminosa de su pantalla, consecuencia directa de que la mayor parte de los modelos fueron diseñados para funcionar con una modesta lámpara de tungsteno de 6V y 10W, el mismo tipo de bombilla que durante décadas podía encontrarse sin dificultad en tiendas de motocicletas, pero cuya luz amarillenta, además de pobre, resultaba claramente insuficiente para quienes estamos acostumbrados a trabajar muchas horas revisando material, montando película o preparando telecinados con un mínimo de comodidad visual.

Hace años decidí mejorar la situación sustituyendo, en todas mis moviolas, las lámparas originales por su equivalente halógeno de 6V 10W, que ofrecía una intensidad algo mayor y una temperatura de color más agradable, aunque también generaba bastante más calor, lo cual obligaba a extremar el cuidado en sesiones largas para evitar que, especialmente con ciertas películas de triacetato, el soporte se doblase si se dejase detenido mucho tiempo en imagen fija. Durante años fue una solución aceptable, hasta que la única tienda de mi ciudad que todavía vendía estas lámparas halógenas cerró después de la pandemia, dejándome con un pequeño stock que, tarde o temprano, se acabará-

No hace mucho, el ingeniero anglo-británico-español , Martin M. Ten, de MMT, transformó una de mis moviolas Bauer a un sistema de lectura de sonido digital de altísima calidad, pensado para extraer el sonido sincrónico durante el proceso de digitalización, modificación que describí en su momento en esta bitácora. Aquella Bauer regresó a casa no sólo con un sistema digital impecable, sino también con una iluminación LED extraordinariamente potente, parte integral del diseño de Martin, cuya calidad técnica está, sencillamente, fuera de toda discusión (LEA AQUÍ).

Pero esa solución, perfecta para trabajos de digitalización avanzada, no responde necesariamente a la necesidad cotidiana del montador tradicional, que no requiere sonido digital ni electrónica compleja, sino simplemente más luz my la tranquilidad de no depender de bombillas cada vez más difíciles de conseguir.

Con esa idea en mente, consulté el problema con el "mago de la luz", José Luis, el mayor especialista en iluminación marítima de Galicia, que trabaja bajo la marca I & L Technologies, y cuya experiencia con sistemas ópticos y fuentes luminosas pensadas para funcionar durante años sin fallo alguno le permite abordar este tipo de conversiones con una solvencia poco común.

La solución que propone no consiste en sustituir una bombilla por otra, como podría pensarse, sino en una auténtica transformación técnica: cada moviola debe enviarse a su taller, donde se mecaniza el alojamiento de la lámpara para instalar un LED de alta calidad con su correspondiente disipador, se añaden resistencias, se modifican los circuitos y se ajusta todo el sistema para que la nueva fuente de luz funcione en condiciones óptimas, sin sobrecalentamiento para la pelícua, sin forzar los componentes originales y con una temperatura de color de 6000 grados Kelvin con un CRI de 80.

El resultado es sorprendente incluso para quienes estamos acostumbrados a mejorar nuestros equipos: una luz blanca, limpia y estable, no azulada, sino neutra, que hace parecer obsoleta la iluminación halógena y casi anacrónica la amarillenta del tungsteno, obtenida además con un LED de fabricación alemana, no china, que trabaja sólo al treinta por ciento de su capacidad, lo que significa que su vida útil no se mide en años, sino en décadas.

¿Y cuánto cuesta una conversión de este nivel, realizada de forma artesanal, con componentes de primera calidad, incluyendo los trabajos de mecanización? Sólo 195 euros.

Probablemente los mejores 195 euros que puede invertir cualquier superochista que no necesite la sofisticación del sonido digital de MMT, pero que sí desee algo mucho más importante para el trabajo diario: una iluminación perfecta en su moviola, para toda la vida.

RECHARGEABLE SINGLE-8 CARTRIDGES WITH SUPER-8 FILM. Cartuchos de Single-8 recargables con película de Súper-8

(Spanish translation at the end)

Even before Fujifilm — rather ungratefully, in my opinion — abandoned in 2012 the system that had once opened for them the doors of the Western market, the remarkable Single-8, I was already reloading Single-8 cartridges with film stocks from other origins, including the beautiful y only one Kodachrome.

Opening the cartridges

The Single-8 cartridge offers a number of technical advantages that, even today, make it one of the most intelligent designs ever created for amateur cinematography. Unlike Super-8, the pressure plate is located in the camera itself, not in the cartridge, ensuring a much more precise film positioning. In addition, the cartridge uses two parallel axes for the film core (like a cassette tape), which allow full rewinding and keep the film travelling in a perfectly flat plane, making jamming virtually impossible — unless, of course, the film has been badly slit or reperforated, something that, in my experience, never happens with Kodak stock.

Another often forgotten advantage is that Single-8 cartridges were designed from the beginning to be reusable. During the early years of the system, when Fujichrome was still a true substantive colour process comparable to Kodachrome and processing was centralized, Fujifilm itself recovered the empty cartridges from its laboratories for reuse.

Gabriela was my first film loader, 15 years ago

Whenever I obtain a new batch of used cartridges for my stock, I carefully remove the remains of old labels or printed markings, and replace them with custom stickers, leaving a blank space where I write in pencil the type of film loaded inside. 

Before reloading each new cartridge with film in the darkroom, each one, where the roll rests, is lubricated with a drop of Singer sewing machine oil. It is a small ritual that reminds me that working with film is not merely recording images, but participating in a complete mechanical and chemical process.

Removing remnants of paper adhesive with Zippo or Ronson oil

I must clarify that I do not sell reloaded cartridges nor reload film for others. Loading Kodak film into Single-8 cartridges is a strictly personal activity, reserved for my own productions, or for those of my faithful factotum Álex. It takes time, patience, and a certain stubbornness, but it is also the closest one can come, today, to the old dream of making one’s own film — since the rest of the chain, from shooting to processing, editing, and projection, is also done by ourselves.

That is precisely why the result feels different, as every frame has passed through our hands more than once before reaching the screen.

• If you would like to see the vast world of creative possibilities with Super-8 products, please click here: Pro 8mm

CARTUCHOS DE SINGLE-8 RECARGABLES CON PELÍCULA DE SÚPER-8.

Aun antes de que Fujifilm  (de forma que no puedo evitar calificar de poco agradecida) abandonase en 2012 el sistema que le había servido para darse a conocer en el mundo occidental, el admirable Single-8, yo ya recargaba cartuchos de Single-8 con películas de otras procedencias, entre ellas el maravilloso Kodachrome.

El cartucho de Single-8 presenta numerosas ventajas técnicas que, todavía hoy, lo convierten en uno de los diseños más inteligentes jamás concebidos para el cine de pequeño formato. A diferencia del Super-8, el presor se encuentra en la cámara y no en el cartucho, lo que garantiza una colocación de la película mucho más precisa. Además, el cartucho utiliza dos ejes paralelos, como una cinta de cassette, lo que permite el rebobinado integral y mantiene la película siempre en el mismo plano, haciendo prácticamente imposible cualquier atasco, salvo, claro está , que la película esté mal cortada o reperforada, algo que jamás me ha ocurrido con película Kodak.

Otra ventaja, a menudo olvidada, es que los cartuchos de Single-8 fueron concebidos desde el principio para ser reutilizados. Durante los primeros años del sistema, cuando el Fujichrome era todavía un proceso cromático substantivo, en un sistema idéntico al Kodachrome,  y el revelado se realizaba de forma centralizada, la propia Fujifilm recuperaba los cartuchos vacíos desde sus laboratorios para volver a utilizarlos.

Cuando consigo una nueva partida de cartuchos caducados, elimino cuidadosamente los restos de antiguas etiquetas o serigrafías, y les coloco pegatinas personalizadas, dejando un espacio en blanco que relleno a lápiz con el tipo de película cargada en cada uno. 

Antes de recargar cada cartucho con película en el cuarto oscuro, se lubrica cada uno de los compartimentos donde descansa el rollo con una gota de aceite para máquinas de coser Singer. Es un pequeño ritual que me recuerda que trabajar con película no consiste solo en filmar imágenes, sino en participar en todo un proceso mecánico y químico.

Debo aclarar que no vendo ni recargo película para terceros.
El uso de película Kodak en cartuchos de Single-8 es una actividad estrictamente personal, destinada únicamente a mis propios trabajos, o a los de mi factótum Álex. Es una tarea que requiere tiempo, paciencia y cierta obstinación, pero que permite acercarse como pocas cosas hoy en día al viejo sueño de fabricar uno mismo su propia película, ya que el resto del proceso (la filmación, el revelado, el montaje y la proyección),  lo realizamos también nosotros.

Por eso,  el resultado tiene algo especial, pues cada fotograma ha pasado más de una vez por nuestras manos antes de llegar a la pantalla.

FUMEO 16 MM PROJECTORS: INTERCHANGEABLE MECHANICAL HEADS. Proyectores Fumeo de 16mm: cabezas mecánicas intercambiables.

(Spanish traslation at the end)

One of the many virtues, and by no means a minor one,  of Fumeo 16 mm projectors is that the true heart of the intermittent movement, namely the assembly containing the claw, shutter, gate and pressure plate, forms a self-contained unit which the Italian factory itself referred to as the mech head, and which can be replaced in little more than a minute using nothing more than an ordinary screwdriver, without the need for complex adjustments or specialised tools.

What might at first glance seem a secondary refinement is in fact a clear indication that these machines were designed not only for  educational projection, but also for professional environments, as film archives, cinematheques and laboratories, where each print may present different physical conditions and therefore requires a specific mechanical configuration. 

Thanks to this modular design, I keep several different mechanical heads, each intended for a particular purpose: the full-aperture swing-open type, exceptionally convenient for cleaning and maintenance; the version with variable pressure plate, indispensable when handling fragile prints; the head with adjustable gate height, extremely useful for masked 1.85 prints; the Super-16 mech head, essential for anyone who, like myself, regularly works with different picutre formats; and finally the one shown in the photograph below, fitted with a two claws instead of the usual three, a solution especially suitable for projecting films whose base has shrunk with age,  a condition far from uncommon in older triacetate materials.

A projector capable of adapting its own internal mechanics to the physical condition of the film is not a luxury but a necessity for anyone who understands projection as a natural extension of archival work, and it explains, once again, why Fumeo projectors continue to occupy a privileged place in the booth of those who refuse to treat photochemical cinema as if it were merely a relic of the past.

PROYECTORES FUMEO DE 16 MM: CABEZAS MECÁNICAS INTERCAMBIABLES

Una de las muchas virtudes, y no precisamente menor, de los proyectores Fumeo de 16 mm es que el auténtico corazón de su mecanismo de arrastre e intermitencia, es decir, el conjunto donde residen el garfio, el obturador, la ventanilla y el presor, forma un bloque independiente que en la propia fábrica italiana denominaban mech head, y que puede sustituirse en apenas un minuto con la ayuda de un simple destornillador, sin necesidad de ajustes complejos ni herramientas especiales.

Este detalle de ingeniería, que a primera vista podría parecer secundario, revela en realidad hasta qué punto estos proyectores fueron concebidos pensando no sólo en la proyección doméstica o educativa, sino también en el uso profesional, en archivos cinematográficos, filmotecas y laboratorios, donde cada postivo fílmico puede presentar características físicas distintas y exige, por tanto, soluciones mecánicas específicas.

Gracias a este sistema modular, disponge de varias cabezas mecánicas diferentes, cada una destinada a una función concreta: la de abertura total (swing-open type), extraordinariamente cómoda para limpieza y mantenimiento; la equipada con presor de presión variable, imprescindible cuando se trabaja con copias delicadas; la que permite regular la altura de la ventanilla, muy útil en determinadas copias de formato 1.66 o 1.85; la correspondiente al formato Súper-16, imprescindible para quien, como es mi caso, convive con distintos anchos de imagen; y, finalmente, la que muestro en la fotografía inferior, provista de un garfio de dos uñas en lugar de tres, solución especialmente indicada para proyectar películas cuyo soporte ha sufrido contracción con el paso de los años, circunstancia nada infrecuente en materiales antiguos de triacetato.

Que un proyector permita adaptar su propia mecánica interna al estado físico de la película no es un lujo, sino una necesidad para cualquiera que entienda la proyección como una prolongación natural del trabajo de archivo, y explica, una vez más, por qué los Fumeo siguen ocupando un lugar de privilegio en la cabina de quienes no se resignan a tratar el cine fotoquímico como si fuese un simple recuerdo del pasado.

VINEGAR SYNDROME: NO CURE

In the photograph that accompanies these lines I appear visibly saddened, holding several of my favourite Tex Avery cartoons, prints that I´m now forced to discard after confirming that they are irreversibly affected by vinegar syndrome, the most feared disease of triacetate film, a slow chemical decay for which, despite everything that has been written, there is still no real cure.

My sadness

At the end of the 1980s I had the opportunity, in the United States, to acquire the complete filmography of Tex Avery for MGM and Warner in brand-new 16 mm laboratory prints on Eastman LPP stock, struck at the time for telecine transfer to video and distribution to television stations. These were not worn rental prints, but fresh positives, with perfect colour, excellent density and, at the time, the reassuring promise of the low-fade LPP emulsion, which indeed has preserved the colours beautifully until today.

Because some of those cartoons were among my favourites, I decided, with the best of intentions, to protect them using Vitafilm, a product widely recommended in certain circles as a cleaner, lubricant and supposed preservative for film. It seemed logical: if the film was kept flexible and lubricated, it would age better, but it was a mistake!!!

Spaniard professor Sara Valiño check VS on a reel in my film vault: yellow level is critical

Every single print that I treated with Vitafilm has developed vinegar syndrome, all of them, without exception. The others, stored in the same room, in same reels and cans, bought at the same time, from the same laboratory batch, and kept under identical conditions for nearly forty years, remain perfectly stable today.

Some of them have hardly been projected since the day I received them, while the treated ones —ironically, the ones I cared for the most— were occasionally aired, inspected and projected, something that in theory should have helped their preservation. The only difference between them is the use of that product.

To understand what has happened, one must recall what vinegar syndrome actually is. Triacetate film base, widely used from the late 1940s until the arrival of polyester, contains plasticisers that give the film its flexibility.

With time, humidity and temperature fluctuations, the acetate polymer begins to break down, releasing acetic acid, the unmistakable smell of vinegar that gives the syndrome its name.
Once the process starts, it becomes autocatalytic: the acid accelerates the decomposition, which produces more acid, which in turn accelerates the decay. The result is shrinkage, warping, embrittlement, channeling of the emulsion and, eventually, complete loss of the film.

Certain chemical products, especially those containing solvents or oils intended to soften the film, can interact with the plasticiser and destabilise the base, accelerating the process instead of preventing it.
This is why the use of cleaners, lubricants or conditioners on acetate film must always be approached with extreme caution.

In my case, the conclusion is painfully clear. The prints that received Vitafilm treatment are the ones that have succumbed to vinegar syndrome, while others, stored untouched for decades, remain in perfect condition. It is difficult to avoid the suspicion that the very attempt to protect them may have contributed to their destruction.

For the past year I have tried to stabilise the affected reels:
ventilation, separation from healthy prints, storage with molecular sieves, periodic inspection, buy nothing has worked, and the shrinkage progresses: projection is no longer safe.

There comes a moment when the archivist must accept defeat. Discarding a film is never easy, but keeping a print with active vinegar syndrome can endanger the rest of the collection, as the acetic vapours may accelerate the decay of nearby reels if storage conditions are not perfectly controlled.

So these cartoons —films that made me laugh, that I projected countless times, that I once considered almost eternal because of their LPP stock— must now be removed from the archive. This is the harsh lesson of photochemical preservation: colour may last, image may survive, but the base itself can betray us, as once vinegar syndrome begins, there is, in truth, no solution.

BEFORE 4K DIGITISATION: RESTORATION AND CLEANING OF SUPER-8 ORIGINALS

In this particular case, the work entrusted to us by a well-known institution in Galicia consists in the digitisation in 4K of a collection of Super-8 films shot between the late 1960s and the end of the 1980s by a figure of some notoriety, a man whose name even appears in the Guinness Book of Records, which already gives an idea of the historical interest of the material we are dealing with.

When one is faced with footage of this nature, simple telecine is not enough. If the films are to remain worthy of their origin —and if we want these very same reversible originals, which were physically present at the moment of filming, to retain their dignity when, sixty years from now, they are digitised again with technologies we cannot yet imagine, or perhaps even projected directly— then the first obligation is restoration.

We are the main Fujifilm splicing tape customer in Europe

As mentioned in the previous entry, the vast majority of this archive was shot on non-substantive colour stocks, mainly Kodachrome and Dynachrome on polyester base, which means that the chromatic stability of the image is, for all practical purposes, guaranteed for eternity.
Only about fifteen metres were filmed on the far less stable AGFA Moviechrome, whose presence reminds us that not all colour processes of that era were created equal.

We found splices with ordinary adhesive paper!!!

The first task, therefore, is mechanical: the rebuilding of splices. Some of them are made on acetate cement, others with ageing adhesive tape, and a few —to my astonishment, although after so many years nothing should surprise me— with ordinary household adhesive paper. Over the decades I have encountered every imaginable solution, from carefully sewn joins with thread to repairs held together with metal staples.

All of them must be removed and replaced. The new splices are made using Fujifilm pre-perforated polyester splicing tape, a material of proven stability, rated for archival use and expected to last a century under proper storage conditions.

When redoing ECS ​​splices, they are not cut, they are simply reinforced with pre-perforated Fujifilm tape.

Work on the editing viewer allows, at the same time, a careful inspection of the film itself: scratches here and there, but nothing serious; occasional emulsion cracking in certain passages; identification of the type of sound track, when present —in this case laminated magnetic stripe—; and the inevitable perforation damage, which must be repaired one by one.

We clean even the reel and boxes

New white polyester leaders are added to every reel, both for protection and for future handling, and each roll is then cleaned and polished, as are the original boxes, using specialised products that we import from the United States and that are suitable for archival film without attacking the base, the emulsion or the magnetic coating.

Only after this painstaking preparation is completed do we proceed to the next step: a full projection check of the entire footage, to confirm that the film runs smoothly and safely before undergoing liquid cleaning in our JoBo machine, the final stage before 4K digitisation.

But that, as they say, is a story for another day.