FUJICA M300 AF AND PX 300: AN EXTRAORDINARY LENS

Back when film stock came with magnetic sound stripes pre-applied at the factory, it was far more convenient to shoot on sound film rather than on silent stock and add a separate soundtracks later for sync. For direct-sound filming indoors, one of my favorite cameras was the Fujica M300AF — the very one my wife is holding in the photograph just below.

My wife with my M30AF camera,  with a portable light

The M300AF’s autofocus system was a delight to use, especially in shots at f/1.2 where the subject walked toward the camera: the background would gradually melt into a soft blur, all without the operator touching the focus.

Its  lens — the Fujinon f/1.2 9.7–26 mm — delivers crystal-clear definition (although isn’t EBC coated), even wide open. The same optical system, with added macro capability, was fitted to the Lilliputian and inexpensive Fujica PX300. But yet, strangely, not all PX300 units are as razor-sharp as every M300AF I’ve used.

The reason? The PX300 — a mass-produced model (it was even advertised on Japanese television) — was assembled on an automated production line. The M300AF, by contrast, had each of its lenses individually collimated at the factory. That extra care shows.

Still, the little PX300, designed by the great Shigeo Mizukawa, is a superb camera in its own right. Despite its small size, it boasts a servo-controlled iris that stops down to f/45, a meter lock, manual rewind, and direct light entry to the film without that hateful half-mirror found in so many other cameras.

My own wedding was filmed entirely with the Fujica M300AF, as were all the night and interior sequences of my commemorative documentary “Brezhnev, mon amour” (version is English and Spanish at same time, alternating locution of paragraphs).

BREZHNEV, MON AMOUR from IB CINEMA Motion Picture Films on Vimeo.

YELCO DS810MT QUARTZMATIC: THE POOR COUSIN OF THE FUJICASCOPE SD20

When it comes to projection, I normally reach for my Fumeo or Beaulieu. But when it's time to record sound directly onto the magnetic tracks of my Super 8 originals, I trust only two machines — both of them never officially sold outside Japan: the Fujicascope SD25 Stereo Quartz and its slightly more modest sibling, the Fujicascope SD20 Quartz.

Yelco 810 converted

Why? Because for me, these aren't just projectors — they're tools worthy of the handcrafted nature of my films. Every frame of my work is created and edited manually, often featuring dozens, sometimes hundreds, of splices. These are not copies, but the originals themselves — filmic incunabula, if you will. And when I add sound to those precious magnetic tracks (hand-applied, no less), I need a machine that can handle constant frame-holds and rewinds without so much as bruising a single sprocket hole.

Only the top-end Fujicascopes deliver that level of precision and gentleness.

Yelco 810 convertion to 360 meters

Why the Fujicascope SD20 and SD25 are in a Class of Their Own

Here’s what sets them apart:

1. Total reliability: They don’t damage even the most delicate, irreplaceable reversal film.

2. Quick unthreading: Essential when stopping mid-session during sound recording.

3. High sound quality, even with challenging magnetic coatings.

4. Permalloy heads: Tough enough to withstand even poorly applied liquid-type tracks, during years and years.

5. Outstanding lens: Both models come with the legendary Fujinon f/1.0, a true gem.

6. Quartz sync module: Holds speed with digital precision; variable speed is adjustable from 16 to 26 fps.

7. Large reel capacity: Handles up to 360 meters of film (triacetate).

8. Strobe light on the SD20, for precise frame adjustments.

9. The SD25 takes it further: LED digital frame counter, runtime display, programmable microprocessor effects, and independent LED VU meters for each track.
   It’s a beautiful collision of 21st-century digital control and 19th-century mechano-chemical magic.

Finding either model outside Japan is nearly impossible. I was lucky to bring both back from a 2005 trip — including the step-down transformers required to run them on Japan’s native 100 volts.

Fujicascope SD25

Enter the Poor Cousin: The YELCO DS810MT Quartz

Now, for those outside Japan seeking an alternative — there is one, if you're patient: the YELCO DS810MT Quartz.

It’s essentially the SD20’s less glamorous sibling — sharing the same quartz-controlled motor and internal clock, but with some compromises:

• A rather mediocre lens (the standard f/1.3 15–25 mm zoom),

• No pause-position frame stop (a frustrating omission),

• Reel capacity reduced to 240 meters,

• Overall, fewer refinements.

But here’s the silver lining: most of these shortcomings can be fixed. With a little technical work, and at a fraction of the cost, you can turn a YELCO DS810MT into something very close to a Fujicascope SD20.

Why the YELCO Brand?

Fujicascope projectors were originally designed and built by Yamawa, a joint venture between Fujifilm and Rank Xerox, intended solely to manufacture high-end projectors under the Fujicascope name.

As Super 8 began its decline in the late 1970s, Yamawa started rebranding simplified versions of their designs under other names: Bell & Howell, Minolta, Yashica, and, eventually, Porst in Germany, and Yelco in Spain, the UK, and Argentina. These versions were often sold cheaply — the catch? No multinational warranty coverage.

Final Thoughts

One day, I’ll publish a full technical breakdown of the YELCO DS810MT Quartz. But for now, let me say this: if you're venturing into the world of Super 8 sound recording, and stumble upon one of these projectors, grab it.

With a few tweaks, this so-called “poor cousin” might just become your most loyal studio companion.

Note: this text is a digest of my article published in the blog some years ago.

CLICK HERE, PLEASE, for know how to convert a 810 projector: https://mimundoensuper-8.blogspot.com/2024/10/810-mt-quartzmatic-adapted-for-360.html?m=1

CENTURY PRECISION 3.5 MM FOR THE FUJICA ZC1000N. When wide isn’t wide enough.

Among the official accessories for the legendary Fujica ZC1000N is one of the finest wide-angle lenses ever made for small format filmmaking: the superb EBC Fujinon 5.5 mm f/1.8. Sharp edge to edge, with virtually no distortion and an impressive depth of field even wide open, it’s a lens that performs miracles — and even includes macro focusing.

But sometimes, even 5.5 mm isn’t quite wide enough.

In those rare instances, I reach for the crown jewel of my collection: the ultra-rare Century Precision 3.5 mm f/1.8, originally designed for 16 mm film cameras, but which adapts beautifully to the Fujica ZC1000N and the Single-8 format.

The result? Breathtaking. While it doesn’t quite match the razor-sharp definition of the EBC Fujinon 5.5 mm when used wide open, it opens up a whole new world of possibilities in tight spaces or when looking to push perspective to the extreme.

One caveat: the Century lens has no front thread for filters — which means it rarely leaves the studio. But when it does... it delivers.

SINGLE 8 STORY: LA BIBLIA DEL SINGLE-8.

Todos mis lectores saben que, desde antes de ir a la universidad en mi querida Barcelona, hace medio siglo, soy un firme defensor del sistema Single-8. La película y el formato es el mismo que el Súper-8: película de 8 mm con perforaciones tipo S. La diferencia está únicamente en la presentación: el cargador de Súper-8 es coaxial con un solo eje, mientras que el de Single-8 tiene dos ejes (de forma que se puede filmar marcha atrás en toda su integridad, o rebobinar), es recargable, no lleva presor (sino que incluso las cámaras mas baratas para este tipo de cartuchos, llevan su propio presor metálico) y, muy importante, el arrastre de la película es por debajo de la ventanilla, “tirando” de la película, como todos los pasos de cine, excepto el Súper 8, en que la uña de arrastre se encuentra por encima de la ventanilla, y “empuja” la película hacia abajo. Toda esta serie de factores motivan que, filmando con cartuchos de Single-8, la estabilidad de la imagen sea superlativa y que los cartuchos nunca se atasquen.

Por otra parte, el Single-8 permite filmar "con la mejor cámara de 8 mm jamás fabricada" (Ivan Watson dixit): la nunca suficientemente ponderada Fujica ZC1000N, que me ha acompañado desde los desiertos africanos hasta el corazón mismo de la Antártida, en trabajos profesionales durante medio siglo, sin la menor falla en todas estas décadas. La ZC1000N tiene doble sistema de obturador variable, contador digital de fotogramas, montura tipo C, 72 fotogramas por segundo, motor exterior de exposición lenta y, entre otras golosinas técnicas, arrastre con garfio de dos uñas después de la ventanilla y un segundo garfio antes de la ventanilla para filmar marcha atrás la totalidad del cartucho sin variación en la línea de encuadre.

Pese a todas estas ventajas, el single-8 nunca obtuvo la popularidad que se merecía (excepto en el Japón y Holanda), por una razón: la ausencia de disponibilidad de la mejor película, el Kodachrome (al menos, para el gran público, no para mi, que filmé Kodachrome en Single-8, recargándome yo mismo los cartuchos que enviaba a revelar a Dwayne’s. Tengo que puntualizar, sin embargo, que el Fujicolor disponible entre 1965 y 1973 es casi tan bueno e inmune al desvanecimiento como el Kodachrome y que el Fujichrome tipo N, fabricada entre el año 2000 y 2012 es de altísima calidad).

Filmando, pues, toda mi vida en cartuchos de Single-8, la llegada del libro de Jürgen Lossau y Samuel Preston SINGLE-8 STORY, presentado en inglés y alemán simultáneamente, ha colmado todas mis espectativas: abundante información nunca antes publicada, excepcionales ilustraciones y una muy buena calidad de impresión en un volumen de gran formato. 

El libro se encuentra dividido en varias secciones, con textos de gran interés, como las diferencias que hay entre la ZC1000 normal, fabricada entre 1974 y 1979, y la mejorada ZC1000 New, producida entre 1979 y 1982, con una montura C, de bronce, reforzada para admitir objetivos de mucho peso, entre otras prestaciones. Con este libro, el neófito podrá distinguir a primera vista entre ambos tipos de ZC1000. Por supuesto, esta cámara se muestra muy bien estudiada. 

La obra Lossau pasa revista, pormenorizadamente, a cada una de las cámaras de Single-8 producidas e, incluso, dedica un capítulo a informar de las fechas de publicación de cada cámara de Single-8, y no sólo de Fujifilm, sino también de otros fabricantes como Canon, Elmo o Konica. 

Una investigación profunda analiza como se gestó el sistema de Single-8, en 1959, y las vicisitudes que tuvo que vivir hasta llegar al mercado en 1965. Otro capítulo relata la asombrosa cámara Fujica ZS400 que permite registrar sonido óptico con cualquier cartucho de Single-8 mudo. 

Una de las partes mas interesantes es la entrevista que, recientemente, Tak Kohyama hizo a Shigeo Mizukawa, diseñador de la ZC1000, entre otras cámaras de Fuji. Conozco a Shigeo personalmente. Por eso, me encanta que se acuerde de mí cuando dice: "Ignacio Benedeti rueda sus documentales en todo el mundo con la ZC1000 con película Kodak cargada en cartuchos de Single-8. Su cámara jamás dejó de funcionar, en cincuenta años, incluso en las bajas temperaturas de la Antártida".

También, me emociona que el maestro Kohyama, al que conozco desde hace mas de un cuarto de siglo,  comente: "Ignacio Benedeti ha estado filmando con la ZC1000 desde hace casi medio siglo. Siempre admiré sus proyectos cinematográficos, por lo que yo mismo compré una ZC1000"

Una sección final del libro reproduce folletos que, a lo largo de los años, ha editado Fujifilm para promover y mantener el sistema, en una labor encomiable que mantuvo entre 1965 y 2014.

Escribí esta reseña mientras cuido de mi madre de 92 años, delicada de salud 

El libro "Single-8 Story" es fundamental en la biblioteca de cualquier entusiasta del cine en pequeño formato. Su compra es la mejor inversión que he hecho este 2025 para mi biblioteca pues, estoy seguro, que lo releeré muchas veces en los años que vengan. 

El libro se puede comprar a través del siguiente enlace: https://www.super8mag.de/shop/

SINGLE-8 STORY: THE BIBLE OF SINGLE-8

All my readers know that I’ve been a firm supporter of the Single-8 system for over half a century — ever since my pre-university days. The film itself is identical to Super 8: 8mm-wide with S-type perforations. What changes is the cartridge: while Super 8 uses a coaxial design with a single spindle, Single-8 employs a dual-spool system, allowing full rewinding and reverse shooting — a huge advantage. 

The Single-8 cartridges are reloadable, lack internal pressure plates (since even the most basic Single-8 cameras come with precision metal pressure plates), and — crucially — the pull-down claw operates BENEATH the gate, pulling the film forward just like every professional film format. In contrast, Super 8’s claw pushes from ABOVE, which compromises stability.

All these factors contribute to Single-8’s legendary image steadiness and cartridge reliability, without jamming.

And let’s not forget: Single-8 gives us the best 8mm camera ever built — the legendary Fujica ZC1000N, my faithful companion through African deserts and Antarctic expeditions alike, never once failing me in half a century of professional work. This masterpiece boasts a double variable shutter, digital frame counter, C-mount lens system, true 72 fps, a plug-in slow exposure motor, a double-tooth claw after the gate — and an additional claw before the gate to ensure perfect registration even when shooting in full reverse without change in the frame line.

Despite these undeniable advantages, Single-8 never reached the popularity it deserved (outside of Japan and Holland), largely because Kodak never offered Kodachome in Single-8 cartridges. (Although I did — by reloading my own and sending them to Dwayne’s for processing.) Still, it’s worth noting that early Fujicolor stock (1965–1973) was nearly as stable as Kodachrome, and the Fujichrome Type N made between 2000 and 2012 offered truly outstanding quality.

Having filmed my entire life in Single-8, I had high hopes for the book Single-8 Story by Jürgen Lossau and Samuel Preston — and it exceeded every expectation. Printed in English and German, it's a lavish large-format volume packed with never-before-published information, superb illustrations, and outstanding print quality.

The book is divided into sections, including a detailed comparison between the original ZC1000 (1974–1979) and the upgraded ZC1000 New (1979–1982), which introduced a reinforced bronze C-mount capable of supporting heavier lenses. For newcomers, this guide makes it easy to distinguish the two versions at a glance. Unsurprisingly, the ZC1000 is studied in depth.

Lossau’s research thoroughly covers every Single-8 camera model ever released — not just by Fujifilm, but also from Canon, Elmo, Konica and others — and even includes a timeline listing the release year of each.

Another section dives deep into the origins of the Single-8 system, tracing its development from 1959 to its commercial debut in 1965. One remarkable chapter is dedicated to the Fujica ZS400, a rare camera capable of recording optical sound on any silent Single-8 cartridge.

A particular highlight is the recent interview conducted by Tak Kohyama with Shigeo Mizukawa, the designer of the ZC1000 and other Fuji cameras. I know Shigeo personally, so I was especially touched to read his words:

"Ignacio Benedeti shoots documentaries all over the world with the ZC1000 and Kodak film loaded into Single-8 cartridges. His camera has never stopped working, not even in the freezing temperatures of Antarctica."

And from the master Kohyama himself:

"Ignacio Benedeti has been filming with the ZC1000 for nearly half a century. I always admired his projects — which is why I bought a ZC1000 for myself."

The book concludes with a gallery of original brochures and promotional material released over the years by Fujifilm — a priceless archive in itself.

In short, Single-8 Story is essential reading for anyone passionate about small-format filmmaking. It’s one of the best investments I’ve ever made — a book I’ll return to again and again in the years to come.

 You can order the book here: https://www.super8mag.de/

I wrote this text taking care of my 92 years old beloved mother, with serious health issues last 6 weeks

XENON 500 Vs LED IN FUMEO 16 MM PROJECTORS

For personal reasons, I'm still out of action, but the projects keep moving forward. A couple of hours ago, Alex sent me this photograph from the Stalag set at IB Cinema. 

Today José Luis, the lighting technician specializing in lighthouses, came to La Coruña with the Fumeo 9271 with his exclusive LED design, to compare it with the Fumeo 9315 with a xenon 500 lamp. 

LED on the left

The result is obvious in the photograph: 2000 lumens for both machines. The color temperature is somewhat cooler for the LED, but not as much as the old Marc 300, with many advantages: it doesn't need a douser, it doesn't require a rectifier, it doesn't generate heat, and it lights up like a normal. 

I'm dying to try this new system developed by José Luis, the Galician light wizard, with different types of emulsions and black and white film. More information very soon.

POLYESTER IN DETONATION: THE MYTH OF IMMORTALITY BEGINS TO CRACK

For years, film archivists slept soundly under the comforting illusion of polyester. Immune to the dreaded vinegar syndrome that haunts cellulose triacetate, and free from the combustible terrors of nitrate, polyester became the miracle material — the stable base, the safe future, the chemical life raft for our most cherished images.

But what if polyester could die too? And what if it did so suddenly, silently — from the inside?

Degradation is slicing the polyester film cleanly

THE DISCOVERY I DIDN’T WANT TO MAKE

While inspecting a 35mm trailer from 2008 — carefully stored, free from temperature swings, in an archive that never exceeds 21ºC even in the height of summer — I came across something unthinkable: a clean break running across the frame, from the center outward. As if a fault line had opened up in the very core of the base. As if something had detonated within the polyester, slicing it cleanly from within in a way no external handling could have caused.

And it wasn’t an isolated case. Checking other 35mm polyester trailers from between 2004 and 2014, I found similar internal crystallizations every few meters. Not on all reels — but on enough to raise an archivist’s blood pressure.

BUT WASN’T POLYESTER SUPPOSED TO LAST FOREVER?

Unlike triacetate, polyester is chemically stable. It shrugs off moisture, resists mold, and ignores hydrolysis. It was, we were told, the archival gold standard. But like all industrial miracles, it is only as strong as its manufacturing process. And in that critical decade — when Kodak was overwhelmed by demand, producing film fast enough to wrap the Earth 60 times annually — perhaps something slipped through: a missed annealing cycle, residual thermal stress, or a mechanical flaw during lamination.

Here's where material science enters the frame:

“Temperatures below the glass transition point (Tg) can lead to incomplete enthalpic relaxation, causing internal stress within the polymer.”
(From a polyester manufacturing patent, via patents.google.com)

Without that post-extrusion thermal treatment — known as annealing — the base may carry dormant tension. Calm, yes, but just one trigger away from catastrophic failure.

Archivist and film expert Jack Theakston suspects this trouble arises when moisture is trapped in a tight wind.

German archivist Peter Willems added: “Polyester is very sensitive to moisture. Unlike acetate, it tends to stick together more easily in my experience — probably because the non-emulsion side is very smooth. Such tears occur during unwinding. I’ve also had trailers that weren’t properly dried in the lab, and the same thing happened. I’ve seen this with 16mm film as well. At least, that’s been my observation.”

Degradation is slicing the polyester film cleanly

A RESPONSE FROM KODAK

After reading this article, several Kodak engineers — including the director of the company — kindly reached out with their own insights:

“There is technical merit to what you’ve described, but this is not something that could have occurred in the Kodak ESTAR line because of the way the equipment works. The near mile-long ESTAR line is simply not capable of extrusion and annealing unless Tg is fully achieved.”

Kodak also clarified that their PET (polyester) manufacturing uses High Heat Set (HSS) processing, which boosts tensile strength both lengthwise and widthwise. While the thickness direction (Z axis) naturally has lower tensile strength, Kodak’s director noted that it would still require significant stress to fracture in the way I documented.

Another important point: the trailers examined may not have been Kodak stock. During the 2004–2012 period, trailers were often printed by various labs, and not all used Kodak material. So although the base bears physical similarities, the origin of the film remains uncertain.

What’s clear is that print film, regardless of the brand, was never designed for long-term archiving. Kodak´s director reminded us that labs at the time were running at breakneck speeds to meet demand. Film was being printed at up to 2,500 feet per minute, and processed at 1,000 feet per minute — conditions far removed from archival standards. That intense mechanical strain, coupled with high-speed chemical processing, may have compromised the film’s structural integrity from day one.

In contrast, intermediate and separation elements for film preservation made with the same polyester substrate — but handled and processed far more gently — exhibit no signs of this issue.

First stage of degradation in other segment of the trailer

SO, WHAT SHOULD I DO NOW?

1. Document the evidence: year of printing, emulsion type, lab origin, batch code, and storage conditions.

2. Avoid projection: don’t risk damage to projectors, perforations, or your nerves.

3. Reach out: contact other archivists, distributors, or collectors to confirm if similar cases have emerged.

4. Alert: share your findings so they can verify if other similar cases exist.

5. Preserve the samples: photograph them, examine them microscopically, and, if possible, run a spectral analysis. This may well become a case study.

CONCLUSION (Provisional. But deeply troubling)

Polyester is not immortal. Or at least — not if it’s rushed through production and subjected to mechanical abuse.

The myth of its indestructibility now bears a crack. Ironically, right in the place that should be most secure: the center of the frame — where the image lives.

Kodak’s insights make clear that modern polyester, especially in archival formats, remains extremely robust. But print film — especially from a period of explosive global demand — carries its own risks.

And while we may not yet know the full scope of this issue, one thing is certain: in the archive world, vigilance is preservation. Not everything that shines is polyester. Sometimes, the enemy is silent, invisible — and hiding inside. Until the day it breaks.

Degradation in other trailer from the same period