Not cheap, but most special.

The one thing the nutty retro film movement has succeeded in accomplishing – and it’s not great photography – is the wild escalation of the prices of some of the classic cameras of the 1950s and 1960s. Quite why anyone would waste time processing film with its poor quality and great fragility compared to digital images beats me. Yeah, I know. And LPs sound better too, right? Uh huh. Just go easy on the funny cigarettes.

The two ‘go to’ makers of the time were Franke & Heidecke – Rolleiflex – and Ernst Leitz – Leica. Both were German, needless to add, and that’s a good thing as the last thing you want in your camera maker is a sense of humor. (If you wanted large format the maker of choice was Linhof, sharing roots in the Fatherland).

When the highest quality images were required without resorting to cumbersome plate cameras the Rollei, with its large 6x6cm negatives (over 3 times the area of the 35mm alternative) was the choice of the most famous photographers of the time. Beaton, Capa, Lee Miller, Avedon, Arbus, Adams, Erwitt, Vivian Maier all used Rolleiflexes. Heck, Fred Astaire, trained by none other than Richard Avedon, used no fewer than three in Funny Face, and if you have not seen that then your have little interest in photography.

So my small Home Theater display of the great classics could not possibly be complete without a Rolleiflex from the peak film era and I opted for a 2.8D made in 1955. This took a good deal of searching as most cameras of that era have been beaten to death. Not this one:

The Rolleiflex 2.8D, manufactured
between Aug 1955 and Sep 1956.

It’s as near mint as these things get right down to the dual lens cap (bayonet the top part, snap closed the lower one), pristine leather case and the original instruction book. And the latter is wonderful. Read it without knowing anything about picture taking and you will be half way there by the time you are done. Why, even the self timer works, reflecting a repair by the previous owner.

Having offered supplication to the Market God (he responded favorably) I laid out a not inconsiderable amount of cash and the Rollei now adds a touch of class to the Home Theater which includes a Nikon F, a Minox B, a Contax II, a Bolex H16, a Calumet field camera and …. my first camera, the 1959 Kodak Brownie Reflex 620, given me by my parents when I was 8.

Alongside the Kodak Brownie.
The only thing these two share is the 6×6 film size.
Note the Leitz table tripod supporting the Rollei.

In operation the Synchro Compur shutter (1-1/500 and B) is almost silent, much quieter than the one in the contemporary Leica M3. You are limited to 12 exposures on a roll of 120 film which will ensure you waste none. And the exposure guide on the rear of the camera is beyond ingenious, far superior to the near useless ones which simply recite exposure values in later models.

The intuitive exposure guide.

You can couple the shutter speeds with the aperture values by a 90 degree twist of the front right dial between the lenses, or uncouple them if you want to separate the setting of the two variables. EVs never really caught on because 1 second at f/2.8 is a whole lot easier to remember than the fact that it’s EV3 at 100 ASA. Still, they are there if you want them, but you should probably dress eccentrically and affect a German accent when using them.

The Rollei is one of the truly great exemplars of the film era.

For the spy in you.

Minox B and 36 exposure film cassette.

Having made 150,941 of its various predecessors, with production starting in Riga, Latvia in 1936, Minox had refined their spy camera to the extent that a dual range, coupled selenium meter was included in the ‘B’ model, first made in 1956. Production totaled a startling 384,328 through 1972, suggesting there were either more Russkie spies than even the CIA counted, or that there were some 300,000 plus twits who thought they could get decent sized prints from the 8 x 11 mm negative the camera produced. They couldn’t.

That’s not to denigrate the ingenuity of the design which includes neutral density and green filters, shutter speeds from 1/2 second to 1/1000, B and T, and focusing to a scant 8″ using the included lanyard as a distance scale. Film cassettes held up to 50 exposures and the very decent viewfinder has a suspended, illuminated frame. The lens has a fixed f/3.5 aperture and with a focal length of 15mm the depth of field is large.

The Minox was part of a complete camera system which included a binocular attachment for the super spook, a projector, an enlarger, a tripod holder and tripod, and a flash attachment for AG1 peanut flash bulbs for midnight spookery.

Minox B with flashbulb attachment. The reflector retracts.

This is the latest addition to the Home Theater photographic hardware display and dates from 1962. Believe it or not, it has a properly functioning exposure meter, activated with the button at right. By the time the B was made production had moved to Wetzlar in Germany and the camera is quite beautifully made, just like the Leica M3 next door. But now that everyone on earth has a spy camera – it’s called a cell phone – the Minox is no more than a charming period piece on display with a variety of other classics, and it is most assuredly a classic piece. However, if you need huge prints, stick with that iPhone.

Michael Caine has at it in The Ipcress File, 1965.

A Zeiss masterpiece.

The German Bauhaus architecture movement ran through the 1950s and had a singular focus on function over form. You can get a sense of it from the Bauhaus building in Dessau, though why architect Walter Gropius felt compelled to add the name of the movement to the building remains a mystery (and the ‘S’ is too small!):

The Bauhaus building in Dessau.

The windows are large, the design is largely one of right angles and the mass production aspect of the parts is self evident.

What has this to do with the Zeiss Ikon Contax IIa which was manufactured between 1950-60? Well, this supremely elegant camera first saw the light of day as the pre-war Contax II about which I wrote a decade ago. The Bauhaus influence on the design is writ large.

The Contax II was introduced in 1936 and bombed out of existence by the Allies in the second world war. The IIa was an improved model with aluminum replacing the fragile brass slats of the roller blind vertically traveling focal plane shutter. Further, the film counter was integrated into the advance knob rather than having a separate top plate window. The rangefinder base length was shortened slightly and the overall quality went up.

And when you pick up a IIa the overwhelming impression is one of mass – it’s heavy for its small size – and quality of construction and finish. Everything is tight, the engraving and knurling are to die for and it feels right in the hand. And the clean lines clearly show the Bauhaus influence on the original design, carried on after the war.

Modern gargantuanism dwarfs the petite Contax IIa

It may lack electronic gizmos, but the size is just so.

The detachable 50mm f/2 Sonnar is tiny. The focus helicoid is attached to the body, not the lens.

Note the subtle changes in font sizes.
The dual bayonet mounts accommodate short and long lenses.

Engraving and knurling quality to die for.

Near mint strap lugs testify that this is not a ‘beater’.

Why buy a 75 year old rangefinder camera with no automation, no digital sensor and using film? Because it is an object of engineering beauty and joins other of its ilk on display in the home theater. In addition to many classic movie posters, that room displays a Bolex H16 16mm film camera, an ancient Weston Master selenium cell meter, a period Bell & Howell 16mm film projector, a Goldberg 35mm film reel and an antique candlestick phone. The Contax, like all of those, is in perfect working order.

On display in the home theater.
Nothing less than a Leitz tabletop tripod and ball head would suffice.

Gorgeous.

A beautiful thing.

As a once upon a time (a long time ago) Leica M enthusiast, it’s hard not to look at the new M11 and come away impressed with the sheer physical beauty of the machine.

While the entry price – reckon north of $20,000 for a body with three aspherical Leica lenses to do justice to the monster sensor – is ridiculous, and the absence of IS and AF makes the tool anachronistic, it’s a beautiful thing to behold.