16 MM: REPLACEMENT SEGMENTS... LIKE IN THE OLD DAYS

When I established myself as a 16 mm distributor in late 1980s, one of the most frequently requested titles in my catalogue exclusive for Spaion was the British animated job The Snowman, by Jimmy Murakami (whom I had the good fortune to meet personally in Hiroshima). It was a film in constant demand by educational centres, and precisely because of that intensive use, it was not uncommon for prints to come back with their opening metres damaged: rough starts, poorly adjusted projectors, the inevitable carelessness that comes with frequent handling.

Back then, however, the problem had a solution. The British laboratory Rank, with whom I worked at the time, offered a service that today is almost forgotten: the printing of replacement segments of 50, 100, or 200 feet (15, 30, or 60 metres). There was no need to scrap an entire print because of a few damaged metres; replacing the affected section was enough for the film to return to circulation as if nothing had happened.

That Rank service disappeared years later, when the collapse of the non-theatrical market swept away much of the photochemical infrastructure. For years, this practice survived only in memory—until, about eight years ago, the Italian laboratory Onda Energy decided to revive it, with remarkable success. Today, not by chance, it has become one of Kodak’s main clients for 16 mm print stock.

As regular readers of this blog know, I only allow my own films shot on Super-8 to be screened at festivals if they are shown on film—photochemically—usually blown up to 16 mm. That was recently the case with Elegy to the Pampas Grass. But reality has a way of testing principles, and in early November, during a private screening for a couple of friends using that wretched machine known as the Elmo AL, one section of the print was damaged.

This time, however—just like in the old days—it was not necessary to order a full new 16 mm print. Fifteen metres (50 feet) of replacement were enough. They arrived today, and I have already installed them without difficulty. The film is whole again, ready to continue its journey.

Thank you, Marco!
Thank you, Onda Energy.

Preserving cinema on film is not only about shooting and projecting. It is also about knowing how to repair, replace, and ensure continuity—just as it was always done, and as it never should have ceased to be done. Today, while the digital world celebrates planned obsolescence, photochemical cinema quietly reminds us what real sustainability looks like: repair, replace, continue.

Film, with English subtitles: