The first of course is that the pandemic disrupted global supply chains, and some of them still haven’t fully recovered. Film suppliers faced material shortages even before coronavirus upended the world, so it was inevitable that film prices would surge. (But, hey, at least we aren’t dead.)

The second is that shooting film has become really, really popular over the last few years. That is something to celebrate and embrace and encourage. Suppliers, however, haven’t been able to meet the skyrocketing demand. I don’t know if that’s because of the aforementioned materials problem or if it’s just not profitable at this point for film companies to increase production. The maths for figuring out economies of scale are totally beyond me.

I can though balance my checking account, and it isn’t looking good for my dwindling film supply. Way back in 2020, courtesy of a large tax refund, I purchased a fairly huge quantity of film that I promptly stashed away in the fridge and the freezer. I’ve been shooting from it ever since, but I’m down to the last 20 rolls or so. I thought it would be fun (or tragic) to compare what I paid for certain stocks in 2020 with what they cost now in 2023. I present you with the film-purchasing table of despair:

I think it’s the increase in Kodak Color Plus 200 that hurts the most. That was supposed to be the high-quality “budget” stock in Kodak’s line, but now it’s pretty much as spendy as everything else. Pro Image 100 is now Kodak’s best budget option if you can actually find it in stock and don’t need to shoot in the dark.

The post Film Ain’t Cheap appeared first on scott locklear.

Spec Summary

Name and film formats: The camera produces negatives that measure 6 centimeters by 4.5 centimeters, hence the name: the Pentax 645. The camera can shoot 120 film (the most common today), 220 film (much less common), and 70mm film (not at all common now). You’ll get 15 shots from a roll of 120.

Dates: Introduced June 1984 and eventually replaced by the Pentax 645N in 1997, a commendable 13-year run. So any 645 you buy today could be as old as Metallica’s thrash masterpiece Ride the Lightning or as new as Radiohead’s groundbreaking OK Computer…which is still pretty damn old, especially for a camera. Like those albums, the Pentax 645 is still totally worth adding to your collection. 

Current cost and availability: Six years ago, I paid $168 for the body, grip, and caps from KEH. A 120 film insert was $62 from the awesome used section at Roberts Camera, and a 75mm lens cost me $50 from some fellow on eBay. So all together, a complete kit in excellent shape set me back only $280. Today, the same kit could cost as much as $350 to $400, which is still an amazing bargain. Although the 645 is not as ubiquitous as Pentax’s 35mm K1000, deals definitely abound for patient buyers: you won’t have to hunt for long if you want one in good shape at a price that makes your wallet happy.

Price update 2023: Prices have increased quite a bit. I see the same kit in good shape regularly sell for $500 to $650ish. The 645 remains a bargain, however, because the “expensive” medium format cameras have gotten even more expensive.

Price update 2024: At the big, reputable retailers, the complete kit that cost me only $280 nine years ago is still going for around $600. I have, however, seen a couple less big and reputable merchants trying to get over $1,000. Totally run away far and fast from those dudes.

Price update 2025: The cost of a full kit in good condition is approaching $700-ish now, but you can still find some bargains, especially since many medium-format aficionados are opting for or upgrading to the 645N. As always, stick with a reputable merchant unless you have experience working with older camera bodies.

Autofocus: Nope, the 645 is a manual focus camera. If you want autofocus, pick up either the 645N or 645NII and an autofocusing lens. Those autofocusing models, however, will definitely cost much more.

Lens mount: Pentax’s 645 A mount. There are a bunch of lens options available at really good prices now, especially if you stick to the manual-focus series, the “SMC Pentax-A 645.” The great thing is that you can use those lenses on Pentax’s other medium-format 645 cameras if you decide to upgrade, even digital cameras like the 645D and 645Z. 

Batteries: 6 AAs in the grip. It’s awesome that such a cheap and readily available battery is used, but they do make the camera heavier.

Weight: And speaking of heavy, yeah, the Pentax 645 is a proper chunky monkey. The body, grip, and film insert weigh 46.2 ounces or 1,309 grams or 2.88 pounds according to the manual. But with batteries and a standard 75mm f/2.8 lens added, the kit tops out at 3.8 pounds according to my scale. That’s still not impossibly heavy of course (just about the same weight as Canon’s 1DX Mark III with battery and a 50mm f/1.4 lens), but the Pentax’s large, boxy, and bulky body magnifies the overall chunk factor. If Canon’s 1D series is a sleek sports car, Pentax’s 645 is a lumbering cargo van. 

Light meter: Yes, it has one—a classic center-weighted pattern that produces nice exposures. It works in all the main shooting modes the camera offers: program, aperture priority, shutter priority, and manual. 

Max shutter speed: 1/1000. That max speed is pretty typical of film cameras from the ‘70s and ‘80s, but it’s quite slow compared to digital cameras today. If you are shooting in bright light with fast film, you probably won’t be able to shoot wide open. In manual mode, the shutter speed can be adjusted in whole stops only. There is something refreshingly simple about being limited to whole stops, but for serious work on slide film, you’ll likely get annoyed.

Flash sync speed: 1/60. Very slow by today’s standards. 

Film advance and rewind: Both are automatic and pretty quick for an ‘80s camera. The downside is that both are also very loud, so you won’t be able to sneak any street shots. 

Continuous shooting: Yes, but the 645 is not a speed demon by any means. It shoots a mere 1.5 frames a second in continuous mode. Frankly, I hadn’t tried it until I started putting this review together, and I wish I hadn’t even bothered. It’s ultimately a nightmare of noise and wastefulness. For anyone shooting landscapes or portraits (which you probably are if you are interested in this camera), just save your film.

User manual: Like all film cameras, the Pentax 645 has a number of idiosyncrasies and old-timey irritations waiting for the uninitiated. I’ll go through some of them here, but grab a PDF of the manual from Butkus when you want an even deeper dive into the camera.

Background

Tons of people started their film photography journey with a Pentax K1000 (even Drew Barrymore rocks one), but digital shooting over the past couple of decades has been dominated by Canon, Sony, Fuji, and Nikon—companies that have shaped contemporary photography with oftentimes bold and innovate gear. Pre-2000s, Pentax produced some pretty revolutionary stuff too. When the 645 camera appeared in 1984, for example, Pentax was attempting to create a new market at the intersection of image quality, automation, and affordability.

I mean, check out this particularly voluminous ad.

“One of a new kind,” Pentax insisted, but perhaps the better slogan would have been, “The best of all possible worlds.” Want great images? The 645 offers medium-format excellence. Need a camera that is easy to shoot? The 645 boasts motor-driven film advance and rewind as well as the autoexposure abilities of your dad’s 35mm camera. Don’t have a ton of cash? The 645 is way cheaper than any Hasselblad.

Even sports shooters were encouraged to get in on the goodness.

These days, shooting sports with the 645’s meager 1.5 frames a second prob seems a nonstarter, but medium-format magic combined with some still-modern conveniences? Yes, please. Take my money.

Just How Big Is the Pentax 645?

Really big. It might be the hugest huge you have ever seen in a handheld camera. Here is what the 645 looks like next to a regular old 35mm SLR.

As you can see from the pic above, the lens mount and mirror are gigantic. The area is substantially larger than 35mm film or full-frame digital sensors. It’s also larger than most modern medium-format digital sensors (e.g., Fuji’s GFX series or Pentax’s 645d and 645z). 

The increased bulk and heft, however, are totally worth it if you also want giant and luscious negatives. Here is a size comparison between a strip of medium format and 35mm negatives.

The Grip and Batteries

If you are coming from shooting with a modern DSLR, you’ll appreciate the 645’s grip. It’ll likely be bigger than you are used to (the running theme of the entire camera), but it offers familiar handling and a great shooting experience. 

The grip includes the on-off switch as well as the shutter button. The grip is removable, but I’m not sure why you’d want to take it off: the camera won’t turn on or fire without it. Perhaps you might want to remove it for storage or transport, but it’s probably easier and more efficient to just get a bigger camera bag.

The little slidey switch thing that releases the battery compartment is a total pain to open (at least on my copy of the camera). It feels perpetually stuck or jammed. If yours is the same, don’t fear giving it a proper push to get it open. Mine hasn’t broken yet.

For batteries, I use Eneloop rechargeables and haven’t had a problem. Eneloops rock. Even if you aren’t interested in the 645 but do use speedlights with other cameras, check them out. They cost more, but last a good long while.

One bummer with the 645—and all old-school film cameras that I’m aware of—is the absence of a battery meter. It’s one of the few modern touches that I really miss. I mean, how much juice is left? It’s annoying to have them die in the middle of a shoot. The batteries are rated for a large number of rolls, so it’s never actually happened. But I’m paranoid. I always keep a fresh set in my bag just in case.

Finally, there is the “reserve” battery—a CR1220—located at the bottom of the camera. It’s behind the round cover with the two little holes. 

In theory, the reserve battery is supposed to maintain some of the camera settings only in case the grip batteries die, but when my CR1220 finally gave up the ghost, the camera’s shot counter went nuts even though the grip batteries were still fresh. Not sure what happened, but apparently a working CR1220 is indeed important.

If/when your CR1220 dies, the manual says to send the 645 to Pentax for service, but that seems kind of crazy for a 40-year-old camera. I’m not sure Pentax would even take it. Instead, you can replace the battery by removing the cover with a pair of tweezers. 

The cover turns counterclockwise. I’ve read on forums that some are difficult to open, so you might have to give it some finger muscle. Mine turns easy-peasy.

Each battery is rated to last 5 years, so this CR1220 5-pack will get you through pretty much an entire career of shooting with the camera.

Film Inserts and Loading Film

Unlike most every 35mm camera, the Pentax 645 uses film inserts that you first have to remove from the camera and then load with film. Here is the back of the 645 with the insert in place and then the insert itself removed and with no film.

These inserts are not swappable mid-roll (like with Hasselblad’s mightily awesome camera system). Once you’ve loaded an insert with film, you have to shoot the entire roll before removing it. That is a bummer for sure, but you can’t have it all at the Pentax’s wallet-friendly price point. The 120 inserts can run close to $100 each now, and each will give you only 15 or 16 shots. 220 film inserts are still pretty easy to find and are less expensive these days, but the rolls cost more to develop and scan if you aren’t doing it yourself.

The first time I loaded film in an insert, I was a total fumbling idiot. It’s not actually hard to do, but it does take some getting used to. So no worries if it ends up a mess for you too.

To begin, get your film out of the wrapper.

Then insert the roll on the side with the red S on the spool retainer.

Grab the film leader and stretch the film across the insert. Make sure the black side of the film is facing up. If you see paper instead, you’ve put the roll in the wrong way. Thread the leader through one of the slots in the spool.

Tighten up the film by rotating the silver wheel thingy shown in the pic here.

Keep rotating until the Start arrows align with the red S and the red line.

You are now ready to pop the insert back into the camera.

Eyecups and the Viewfinder

The standard eyecup is large and hard and weird. I’ll link to a pic of one from KEH because mine has disappeared, long ago stuffed into a forgotten gig bag with other unloved bits and bobs. The eyecup is the consistency of a hockey puck. I’m not even sure what it’s supposed to do. Block light? Deflect bullets? Whatever the case, I just couldn’t get on with it.

Instead, I acquired the cheap version pictured above from Amazon [update 2021: damn, the price has increased quite a bit in five years]. It’s bendy and comfortable, but you do have to remove it when you are loading/unloading film. Mine doesn’t fit as tightly as the OEM eyecup, so be careful if you are walking around with the camera on a strap or holding it at your hip. I’ve had my eyecup pop off several times.

There is also a “standard” eye cup available. It’s much smaller than either of the previous two. My camera did not come with one, but I would def like to try it. You can still buy them new from eBay sellers, like this dude, in Japan mostly.

It seems like a lot of secondhand 645s are missing eyecups. No clue why, but you’ll definitely want to get something. The bare edge is brutal on glasses and would be absolutely catastrophic on your eye.

Like the rest of the camera, the viewfinder is enormous. Some people feel that it is too dim, but with the standard 75mm f/2.8 lens attached, the viewfinder is just fine for me. Not beautifully bright by any means, but you shan’t feel like Hellen Keller looking through it. Slower lenses will be even darker of course.

Sounds

The Pentax 645 is quite a noisy camera. Definitely no chance for you to sneak some street shots with it. Below is our short video of what the shutter and film advance sound like—a veritable racket compared to the whisper-click of a Canon Canonet, for example.

Buttons?

Along with its giant body and SLR styling, the 645’s other design hallmark is its use of funky, rubbery push-buttons instead of traditional dials. Here are the camera’s main “selecting buttons,” which allow you to select shutter speeds and ISO and to cycle through the camera’s exposure modes.

They seem totally weird nowadays but were super common in the 1980s, part of the era’s design ethos. Manufacturers used them on calculators and watches and especially on that most ‘80s of all devices—the calculator watch. Behold this Casio monstrosity:

My ‘80s memories are sketchy at this point, but I suppose push-buttons seduced us with their future-is-now vibe. They seemed cool and clever-slick. But in 2020, you’d have to seriously be into retrofuturism to find the buttons anything better than mildly annoying and lame.

Definitely not a deal-breaker though. Once you get your settings (e.g., choose an ISO and an exposure mode), the buttons are really only impractical if you shoot manual exposure. I definitely prefer to do so, but I’ve embraced the necessity of aperture priority with the 645.

Do the buttons have good weather sealing? Probably not, but I haven’t even risked it. My 645 is a sunshine-only camera.

Exposure

In addition to its affordability and SLR-like handling, the Pentax 645 offers one more enticement: autoexposure modes. If auto is your thing, the camera can shoot in program, aperture priority, and shutter priority. To access the AE modes, click your lens’s aperture ring over to “A,” press the aptly named “MODE” button on the top left of the camera, and cycle through them with those funky push-buttons.

The rub, alas, is that you have to select aperture values or shutter speeds with those same funky buttons. It can be a clunky shooting experience.

Happily, there is another (and definitely preferable) way to shoot in aperture priority. Just rotate the aperture ring like you normally would with any other old-school lens. The shutter speed the camera chooses illuminates in the viewfinder. No need to use the buttons to set your exposures.

For fully manual shooting, aperture is controlled on the lens as usual, but shutter speed is again controlled by the push-buttons. The lens allows for half stops, but shutter speeds can be selected in full stops only. That possible lack of exposure fine-tuning is fine for me because I very rarely ever shoot slide film. If you do, there is a kind-of, sort-of workaround: just ride the ISO button, which can be selected in thirds. Definitely not the most efficient, elegant way to get the exposure you need, but at the 645’s excellent price point, it’s probably a tolerable nuisance.

When you are shooting manual and have a “correct” exposure according to the camera’s meter, you’ll see the unmistakable, on-the-nose word “OK” in the viewfinder. Seriously.

If you are underexposed, you’ll be greeted with -1, -2, or -3. Overexposure is indicated by (no surprise here) +1, +2, or +3.

One more thing. Hand holding images at slower shutter speeds can be tough because of the camera’s weight. You might need to shoot a stop faster or use a tripod (boo). Landscape folks won’t be terribly put out, but on-the-move shooters will want to consider a faster film.

Lenses and Crop Factors

Pentax’s original A-mount lenses for the 645 are mechanically fantastic—super solid construction, butter smooth focus throw, and clicky aperture rings. Optically they are good too, but there is nothing faster than f/2.8.

If you grew up on 35mm film or full-frame sensors like I did, the focal lengths for medium format lenses might be mystifying at first. Multiply by 0.62 to get a 35mm equivalent. Because math sucks, here is a handy table.

The really good news is that the old, manual-focusing 645 lenses will also work just fine on Pentax’s new digital medium-format cameras. The sensors though are actually smaller than traditional medium-format film, so multiply by 0.79 for a 35mm equivalent. Because math still sucks, here is another handy table.

One final thing about Pentax lenses: the focus ring rotates in the opposite direction than Canon/Minolta lenses do. For me, that means that all my hard-earned finger-muscle memory is for naught. But if you come from a Nikon background, a Pentax lens will feel like home. A better home even.

Extras

The 645 can also shoot 70mm film. If you actually want to shoot 70mm film (because you are a total masochist), you’ll need this attachment thingy and an eyepiece extender. I’ll post a photo here too in case the eBay auction is removed.

There are usually a few 70mm film inserts always available on eBay, but I’ve never seen them cheaper than $150.

Should You Buy One?

The 645’s main drawbacks are its hefty weight, lack of autofocus, and probably those super-funky push-buttons, but all in all I absolutely adore this clunky, chunky-monkey camera. It truly is the perfect starter kit for photographers who want to seriously explore medium format. And at the prices available now, you really can’t go wrong. Even if you end up hating the camera, you can always flip it for at least what you paid and get something more your speed—a Contax or Hasselblad or even one of Pentax’s own 6×7 cameras.

If you want to stick with Pentax’s 645 series and know you will shoot a lot, I’d probably step up to the 645N or 645NII. Along with more conventional dials, you also get the ability to use autofocus lenses. The bodies are newer too and thus (in theory) less prone to breaking down.

I’ll sign off with a simile. What I dig most about the Pentax 645 is that it’s like a humble, beat-up pickup truck in a world of shiny Porsches and Ferraris. It’ll get you where you need to go but at a fraction of the price. And the ride is a whole lot of bumpy, jumpy fun.

The post Pentax 645 Camera Review appeared first on scott locklear.

Spec Summary

Format: 35mm.

Name: Is this camera officially called the Minolta “XG 1” or “XG-1” or “XG1”? You’ll see it written all three ways, and the confusion comes because the first version of the camera has no hyphen on its front plate and a later version of the camera added the hyphen (along with a new company logo). Minolta, however, included the hyphen in marketing material for both versions. Because the XG 1 and the XG-1 are essentially the same camera and function the same way, I’m going to sidestep the issue altogether and just call it the XG1 throughout this review. A later model called the XG-1(n), with a revamped body, replaced the XG1.

Dates: Manufactured from 1978 to 1981. So the same year that the XG1 rolled off assembly lines, Eddie Van Halen erupted on Van Halen’s debut album and changed guitar playing forever. The XG1 didn’t have quite the same effect on photography.

Cost and availability 2019: 35mm shooting is becoming en vogue again, so prices for used film gear have been steadily increasing. Happily, the cost of an XG1—neither an exotic nor rare camera—has remained fairly stable. You can find them all over eBay and in pawn shops. KEH, B&H, and Adorama sometimes have them in stock as well. Costs range from $15 for a body to $100 for a kit with a good 50mm f/1.7 lens. As always with film gear, buyer beware. If you buy from a respected camera retailer, you’ll likely pay more, but they will have thoroughly checked out the camera and accurately rated its condition.

Price update 2023: Surprisingly, prices for the XG1 have continued to remain pretty stable at 20 to 30ish bucks for a body in decent shape. It’s by no means the most satisfying 35mm camera on the market, but it’ll get you shooting without destroying your bank account.

Price update 2024: You can still find bodies in good shape for less than $50, but beware of eBay: some folks are trying to sell the XG1 for over $100 without even a lens. Definitely don’t pay that much.

Price update 2025: I’m seeing more and more bodies creep into the $70 range. That price feels less like a bargain to me for what the XG1 actually offers. An XG-M or X-370 is the more appealing Minolta option now.

Autofocus and lenses: No autofocus. The camera features Minolta’s MC/MD mount. There are a whole bunch of excellent and affordable MC and MD lenses available on the used market. If you are feeling fancy, look for MD Rokkor-X models. They are often more expensive than regular MD glass, but some photographers prefer the Rokkor build quality and coatings.

Battery: Yes, the camera actually needs two batteries to work at all, and thankfully they are readily available and cheap. The officially recommended battery model is the “Eveready A-76,” but you can use any of the following models from any brand: 157, 303, 357, AG13, EPX76, LR44, S76, SG13, SR44. I picked up a 20-pack from Amazon for 6 bucks.

Weight and construction: The camera weighs in at 1.08 pounds without batteries or lens. That’s almost the weight of Canon’s 17-40mm f/4L lens, so it’s not really heavy at all. At the time, the XG1 was very much considered a consumer camera, but it’s made of more metal than many pro and prosumer cameras today. It can take a fall I’m sure but not a bullet like Don McCullin’s battle-scarred Nikon.

Light meter: Yep, but it works only in aperture priority. In the viewfinder, you can see what shutter speed the camera has chosen. Shutter speeds are available only in whole stops in manual exposure. The meter is a center-weighted pattern.

Max shutter speed: 1/1000. Slow compared to modern digital cameras, but not unusually slow for the time period. Depending on your film’s ISO, you might not be able to shoot wide open with a fast lens on a sunny day.

Flash sync: 1/60. Also quite slow compared to entry-level digital cameras today. And again, you’ll have more difficulty shooting wide open outdoors.

Film advance and rewind: Both are completely manual and as old school as a film SLR can be. When photographers talk about an “authentic” 35mm experience, loading and rewinding film with the XG1 is what they mean.

Manual: The basics of shooting with an XG1 aren’t particularly complicated to figure out even if you have never used a 35mm film camera before…but it never hurts to have a manual on hand. Download a PDF copy of the XG1 manual from Butkus.

Background

The XG1 arrived on shelves in 1978, right in the middle of photography’s autoexposure revolution. At the time, the majority of camera customers—regular moms and dads and grandparents—didn’t want to fiddle with dials and knobs but did want to take great pictures easily and quickly and cheaply. The XG1’s aperture-priority system was designed to directly appeal to them.

And to appeal to them even more, Minolta signed on Bruce Jenner as a spokesperson. A beacon of U.S. pride because of his 1976 Olympic glory, Jenner told all non-photographer photographers exactly what they wanted to hear:

“Take pictures you never thought you could take. With a camera you never thought you could afford.”

The Jenner print campaigns below (courtesy of the amazing Rokkor files) are pretty staid compared to some retro camera ads, but the actual TV commercials?….Amazeballs cheesy. I totally love them.

But of course the camera wasn’t marketed with only the help of Jenner. A camera pitched to the average person also needed some ads that featured average folks and a soothing slogan: “Wait ’til you see how good you can be with a Minolta XG-1.” Lots of internal rhyme and a $25 rebate to boot? Who could’ve resisted?

Batteries and Turning the Camera On

Like with most SLRs from this era, the battery compartment must be opened with a coin or flathead screwdriver. Happily, the XG1’s two batteries will last a long while with average shooting (about a year according to Minolta), so you won’t need to change them often. I’ve had my XG1 since 2001 and replaced batteries only three times.

The power switch is located on the top of the camera and is labeled in gloriously plain English (no cryptic nonsense like on the Canon EOS 650).

B.C. here stands for “battery check.” If the batteries are good, the large red light on the front of the camera will illuminate. The light also illuminates and blinks when the self-timer is activated.

Loading and Rewinding Film

Loading film in the XG1 is not nearly as easy as loading film in the Canon EOS-1N or other fully automated cameras of the 1990s, where you can pretty much just throw a film canister in the camera’s general direction and it loads perfectly fine. I’ll take you through the process.

To get started, pop open the back cover by lifting the film release knob. Insert the film canister with the narrow end pointed down.

The film leader then has to be threaded into the spool. The gray area of the spool has little notches with sprocket teeth. Slip the film leader in one of the notches, and make sure one of the sprocket teeth is in the sprocket hole of the film.

Once the leader is threaded, advance the film a couple of times with the advance lever so that it begins winding around the spool. Close the back cover, set the film’s ISO on the shutter dial, and you are ready to get shooting.

Two things happen on the camera’s top plate as you shoot the roll:

1. The first is straightforward enough. The frame counter shows you how many shots have been exposed. The cool thing with a manual film camera like the XG1 is that you might be able to get more shots than the 24 or 36 the canister said it had. It all depends on how much film you initially wind during the loading process. I can usually get at least an extra shot from a 24-exposure roll.
2. The red bar above the shot counter advances as you shoot. When it looks like in the photo below and the advance lever won’t cock all the way, you are finished with the roll.

It’s now time to start rewinding. First, push the little black button on the bottom of the camera. The button releases the film. Lift the arm on the rewind crank and turn it in the direction the helpful arrow indicates. As you rewind the film, the red bar above the frame counter rewinds too. When you can’t see red any longer, your film should be completely rewound.

Exposure

Manual exposure is available, but you might as well forget about it unless you use an external light meter (though who really wants to do that with a walk-around camera?) or are comfortable with Sunny 16 guidelines. The camera’s light meter works only in aperture priority, which is really what the XG1 was designed to shoot. The center-weighted metering pattern produces good exposures, so as long as you dig AV, the camera will treat you fine.

One cool touch is what Minolta calls the “Touch Switch.” To start the meter with most cameras, you have to press the shutter button halfway. The XG1, however, senses your finger as soon as you lay it across the shutter button, and it begins metering right away.

As you can see from the photo above, the ASA/ISO selector is integrated into the shutter dial. Fuji would later do the same thing on the digital X-Pro2, which is annoying, but on a film camera it’s a cool and practical way to save space and make the body more compact. Because you can’t change ISO between shots anyway (whatever film speed you load is the speed you get for the entire roll), there is no need to make the ISO selector more accessible.

Exposure compensation is also available—from two full stops of underexposure to two full stops of overexposure. To select exposure comp, rotate the shutter speed dial until the “A” is next to the one you want.

One strange thing: the XG1 will not allow the shutter to fire if the image is overexposed, but I can get it to fire if it is underexposed. Equally strange, the camera always selects its slowest shutter speed of 1 second no matter how underexposed the image is. I’m not sure if this is a legit “feature” of the camera or if something is broken on my copy. Whatever the case, the camera does not like shooting anything out of its range of shutter speeds.

Tidbits

The shutter sound. It’s audible but not obnoxiously so. It’s more spongy than metallic, more flat than sharp. It’s not entirely inspiring but not at all off-putting. Ultimately, I like it, especially for street shooting in a crowd or on the metro. Check out our vid below of the shutter sound.

The viewfinder. If you are coming from a crop-sensor digital camera, you’ll be amazed at how large the viewfinder is on the XG1 (and indeed on all film SLRs). The bummer though is that the viewfinder and focusing prism become very dark if your lens has a slow maximum aperture. I have an f/4 zoom that is painful to use indoors or in anything other than the brightest of sunlight. If you are going to invest in shooting with an XG1, stick with any of Minolta’s bright, light primes. Mine came with the bog-standard 50mm f/1.7, and it’s great.

Should You Buy One?

I want to say yes, but I know that want is the result of too much nostalgia. I got my XG1 in France back in 2001. It was a parting gift from a college girlfriend as I was leaving the country. Somehow she knew before I did that I would love film photography, and I’m grateful every day for that (life lesson: always date people smarter than you). Whenever I dig the camera out of a closet now, I’m dusting off not just a piece of photo gear but the rosy, wistful remembrances of Paris, poverty, and passion.

I’ll never get rid of my XG1.

…But I wouldn’t have gone out of my way to actually buy one. And neither should you. The Minolta XG1 is a perfectly decent, inexpensive camera, and it’s a great gateway to Minolta’s addictive Rokkor lenses. There are, however, more solid options available for budding and experienced 35mm photographers. Manual-exposure purists are better served by a Pentax K1000; automatic shooters should look at one of Canon’s very popular A-series cameras; proper film fanatics already have eyes on a Leica or Contax.

So unless you just really, really need a quick gift for a departing partner and eBay has run out of every other film camera, save your cash.

The post Minolta XG1 Camera Review appeared first on scott locklear.

Spec Summary

Format: 35mm.

Name: Canon officially calls the camera the Canonet G-III 17, but you’ll often see it referred to as the Canonet G-III QL17 or the Canonet QL17 G-III. These are all the same camera. It’s a finger full to type though, so reviewers have gotten into the habit of also writing “Canonet QL17,” but that technically refers to the previous generation of the camera. The “G-III” is the crucial part if you are searching online listings to buy one.

Dates: Manufactured from 1972 to 1982. So any G-III QL17 you buy today will be older than most every seminal hair metal album, including Def Leppard’s Pyromania, but I promise that old age won’t get in the way of taking a great photograph.

Current cost and availability: The Canonet series was very popular—so much so that Canon sold around 1.2 million units of the G-III QL17. That is good news for current shoppers because there is a bunch of used stock available. The bad news is that a lot of the cameras have sticky shutters and crumbling light seals, so unless you know what to look for, stick to a trusted retailer that has properly checked out, repaired, and described the camera. I got mine three years ago for $150. Prices have gone up since then (a testament to the resurgence of 35mm photography); a comparable copy goes for nearly $200 now. I still see them from $25 to $75 on eBay and Etsy, but the big kahunas of used gear—B&H, Adorama, and KEH—usually list them in the $100 to $200 range. Be aware that the rare black version of the G-III QL17 is much desired and will thus command a cash premium. The chrome version is more readily available and will make your bank account happier.

Price update 2023: Prices for this camera are still all over the place, with some bodies being suspiciously inexpensive. I would run away from anything with a low price and that isn’t from one of the major retailers. A good body will set you back $250ish now.

Price update 2024: Like for the majority of used film cameras, prices for this Canonet are increasing. KEH is selling a bargain-graded, much-coveted black version for $350. Yikes. Prices for chrome bodies still vary quite a bit, but expect to pay at least $200 for a good copy.

Price update 2025: Still over two hundred bucks for a working body in good shape.

Autofocus: Nope. All Canonets are manual focus rangefinders. The rangefinder patch—the part of the viewfinder that shows what is in or out of focus—seems small to me, but it is bright and more than adequate for street photography and family snapshots.

Lens: All Canonets have fixed lenses. The “17” in the G-III QL17’s name refers to the camera’s 40mm f/1.7 lens. It is quite nice and sharp, and the 40mm focal length is a happy compromise between street photography’s standard 35mm and 50mm options. 40mm is actually closer to what the human eye naturally sees, so if you haven’t used a 40mm before, it won’t take you long to get comfortable.

Battery: Ah, here now is the rub. The camera originally used a single PX625, a 1.35-volt mercury battery that is no longer available in the United States (mercury batteries in general are banned in the U.S. and many other countries). In the past, some photographers opted to use the 1.5-volt alkaline equivalent, but that hotter battery would throw off the camera’s metering. The good news is that a 1.35-volt Wein zinc-air battery is now available for 5 bucks. The really good news, though, is that the rest of the camera works just fine without a battery. If you can live without the meter, you can avoid all the battery woe.

Weight and construction: Back in the day, the Canonets were considered consumer-level cameras, the kind of kit that parents and grandparents took on vacation to record family memories. Some modern pro cameras can only wish to be so well made today and might blush at the impressive metal construction of the merely “consumer” Canonet. The camera is comparatively small but deceptively dense and sturdy. It weighs 620 grams or 1.36 pounds or a little more than Canon’s 50mm f/1.2 lens.

Light meter: Yes. But it only works in shutter priority and only if you have a battery installed. Metering is reportedly accurate, but I’ve never actually bothered to use the meter because I prefer shooting manual exposure.

Max shutter speed: 1/500. This is quite slow by today’s standards, and it might affect your ability to shoot wide open on sunny days.

Flash sync speed: All. The G-III QL17’s lens has a leaf shutter, so it syncs at all speeds, even the max of 1/500.

Film advance and rewind: Both are manual, but loading film is quicker than rewinding courtesy of Canon’s quick loading (QL) system. Film advances by a solid-feeling, smooth-moving lever.

User Manual: Most of us don’t want to even think about looking at a manual, but old film cameras can be bizarre beasts to tame if you are coming from a lifetime of digital shooting. Just grab a G-III QL17 PDF from the bitchin’ and benevolent Butkus. It will come in handy.

Background

In 1937, the company that would eventually become the mighty Canon was just a camera upstart producing Leica-influenced (i.e., copied) rangefinders. A whole lot of rangefinders. And many of them were pretty high-end and popular.

Inevitably, though, the camera market began to change in the late-1950s as more professional and enthusiast photographers gravitated toward SLRs. Canon kept pace by introducing its first SLR in 1959 but didn’t abandon rangefinders entirely. Instead, the company went down range and began producing in 1961 the Canonets, a series of rangefinders aimed at the general public—dads and moms and grandparents who didn’t need or want the latest and greatest tech in an expensive SLR.

That strategy worked beautifully. Canon was rewarded with excellent sales, so much so that by 1969 Canonet marketing material boasted about being “the best selling camera series in the world.”

Despite the marketing hyperbole, the Canonets did genuinely shake up the industry because they were inexpensive for what was offered: fast lenses, well-made bodies, and accurate autoexposure abilities. Canon would ride the cash wave for over 20 years by eventually producing three series (14 models) of Canonets. The G-III QL17 is part of the third and final line; it remains the most coveted camera of the bunch, especially the rare black edition.

Loading Film (Quickly!)

The QL in the the camera’s name stands for “quick loading,” but “quick” here is relative: it’s not as quick as the EOS-1N’s more modern and automated film loading and advance, but compared to other fully manual cameras, the Canonet is without question easier and faster.

Canon’s QL system is essentially a flat plate that covers the film leader. It ensures that your film lies flat as it advances. Just roll the film leader to the red mark, and close the QL plate. You don’t need to thread film into a spool because the intricate QL internals take care of all that for you.

Close the camera’s back cover, and begin winding the film with the advance lever. On the back of the Canonet, a small transport indicator with red and white bars rotates as the film advances. The red on mine, however, has completely faded, and I imagine it must be the same for a lot of cameras out there. No worries though: as long as the advance lever can be cocked, the film is advancing correctly. When the lever stops, your first frame is ready to shoot.

Rewinding Film

The process is all manual and is as quick (or slow) as your hands can move. After you’ve shot your last frame, push the small button on the bottom of the camera. The button releases the film rewinder. Lift the small handle on the rewinder and crank away; a small arrow on the handle indicates the direction to turn. It’s a nice touch.

The Good Stuff

The camera’s look and size are absolutely adorable. So that you can see exactly how compact the camera really is, here’s the Canonet sandwiched between a Fuji X-Pro2 and an iPhone 6S, two tidy bits of kit themselves.

The camera also feels good—though not excellent—in the hand. If I could design a brand-new QL17 just for myself, I’d make it about one-half inch longer for better balance and weight distribution, but it might be perfect for you as is.

Shutter sound is very quiet compared to the racket made by fully auto cameras like the Canon EOS 650 and EOS-1N. Current mirrorless digital cameras with an electronic shutter are truly silent, but for 35mm shooting, the Canonet is certainly stealthy enough to be your first-choice camera for street and candids. Check out our vid below of the shutter sound.

The Canonet’s 40mm lens is generally considered quite lovely—slim size, bright aperture, and sharp optics. Some even say Leica sharp. I can’t say that for sure, for I have yet to shoot with a Leica lens…but the humble Canonet reaching those lofty heights does seem to be a stretch. The lens, however, is definitely nice. It won’t hold you back from producing the best images you can.

The throw on the focusing lever is short, thus allowing a shooter to swiftly move between the minimum focusing distance of 2.6 feet to infinity. A lens with a short focus throw isn’t desirable for cinematography, which requires exact incremental focus adjustments, but for street photography and zone focusing, it’s great.

The Sucky Stuff

The main source of suck is not the lens but literally everything around it on the lens barrel. The aperture ring is stepless (like the aperture ring on a cinema lens), which is cool, but it’s difficult to turn. At least two fingers on either side of the aperture ring and a death grip on the camera are definitely required.

As you turn the aperture ring, your fingers will hit the self-timer and ASA “levers.” Well, Canon calls them “levers.” They are actually little pieces of unforgiving stabby metal. I recognize and appreciate that the camera is small and lens designers could do only so much to cram everything on it, but there is no way the Canonet was tested with real manual shooting in mind.

You can, of course, avoid the aperture issues entirely by shooting in shutter priority, which is really what the camera was made for (the light meter for example works only in shutter priority). A possible problem there for modern photographers is that shutter speeds can be selected only in whole stops: 1/4 to 1/500. I like that simplicity, but it takes some getting used to.

Also, if you do shoot in shutter priority and want to use the light meter, the camera can recognize only a limited ASA/ISO range: 25 to 800. Ilford Delta 3200 ain’t welcome here.

Should You Buy One?

This is a tough question. Tougher than usual. Working with and playing with and living with and falling in love with a film camera is such a personal, specific, subjective experience: your one and only and forever might simply be my one night stand. And vice versa.

In the cold light of day, the Canonet probably looks unattractive because it has a hotter and less attainable friend: the Leica. Photographers often initially consider Canonets because they are interested in rangefinders but can’t afford to invest right away in a Leica or any other pricey interchangeable lens system (I’m looking at you, Contax). The Canonet is an appealing consolation prize here because it comes with a great lens and can be acquired for less than $200. But who really, really wants the camera? For many of us, it’s just the best rangefinder option available right now.

And that, of course, isn’t terribly fair. The Canonet is a truly lovely camera to look at and to hold, and if you like shooting street photography in shutter priority, you’ll get a lot from the G-III QL17.

But I’d still wager that for most photographers, the Canonet is not the right fit as a main or even backup camera. It feels more like a fourth, fifth, or sixth camera, something best left to 35mm aficionados and rangefinder fanatics, Canon collectors and completists—photographers who want a connection with an undeniably interesting part of camera history.

If that sounds like you, just pay the 150ish bucks and get one.

As for me, my eye is definitely wandering.

The post Canon Canonet G-III QL17 Camera Review appeared first on scott locklear.

1. I’m not a Nikon shooter—nothing personal of course; I just can’t get used to the wrong different direction the lenses rotate—so I haven’t touched any of the venerable F-series cameras.
2. I have yet to get my trembling, lust-filled hands on Canon’s own EOS-1V, the last and purportedly greatest of its 35mm film cameras. It’s def in my future though.

That said, if you are interested in shooting 35mm and if you are coming from Canon digital SLRs and genuinely like shooting with them, any of the three 1-series film SLRs will absolutely, categorically be your thing. Get the one you can afford. For most of us, that will be the EOS-1N, which sits perfectly in the sweet spot between being feature rich and not making you cash poor.

Spec Summary

Format: 35mm.

Dates: Announced in October 1994 and produced until March 2000. So any 1N that you buy today will be older than Jimmy Eat World’s Bleed American. And that, tragically, is probably too old to be dancing in underwear.

Cost and Availability 2019: I paid $175 three years ago for my lightly abused 1N, and that is a whole lot of cash compared to where the camera was priced just five years ago. More and more people are shooting 35mm and grabbing them up. I see them on eBay, Amazon, B&H, Adorama, and KEH from $90 to $250ish these days. I’m sure you can still get a better deal at a local mom and pop or a pawn shop, but unless you know what you are looking for, be cautious of the camera’s actual condition.

Price update 2023: Yikes! An EOS-1N in good shape is regularly going for close to $400 now. That’s a sign that even more people are shooting film again, which is great, but used prices are never going to stabilize until a new 35mm camera hits the market. Perhaps Pentax really will help save our wallets.

Price update 2024: Prices have cooled off a little bit this year thankfully. A body in good shape will set you back around $300 to $350.

Price update 2025: Good condition models are back in the $400 range.

Autofocus: Yep. The camera has five autofocusing points, all in a horizontal row. The center point, as usual, is the most sensitive, and it is pretty damn fine for single shot even by today’s standards.

Lens Mount: EF. Every EF lens made from 1987 until today will work on the 1N. There are millions of EF lenses on the planet, and that is one of the best reasons to shoot this camera for your film work.

Battery: A single 2CR5 will get you shooting. The battery is still fairly common and can be found at Amazon, Walmart, and so on. They run about 8ish bucks now, but they’ll last around 50 rolls of film or just about forever in storage. I had one stored away in a different camera for nearly a year, and it fired right up. There is also a version of the 1N (the EOS-1N DP) that comes with a grip for using AA batteries as well, which seems cool, but I’ve never shot with one.

Weight and construction: 855 grams or 1.8 pounds or a little more than Canon’s 70-200mm f/4L IS II lens. The camera is beautifully solid and sturdy. If you’ve shot with a 5D or 7D and like it, you’ll feel right at home. The 1N has weather sealing, but I’ve had it out only in light rain. It was Canon’s top-shelf pro camera for years though, so it can likely take a proper drowning and beating.

Light meter: Oh yes. If you shoot a modern digital camera, you’ll be mostly familiar with the exposure options: 16-zone evaluative, center partial, center weighted, spot, fine spot, and A-TTL flash (the older kind of TTL).

Max shutter speed: 1/8000. As good as it gets with film and digital SLRs. Depending on your film’s speed, you’ll probably be able to shoot wide open during a sunny day.

Flash sync speed: 1/250. Also pretty much as good as it gets with standard film and digital SLRs.

Film advance and rewind: Both are automatic and quick and pain free. For me, having auto advance and rewind is one of the best reasons to shoot with a ‘90s-era or later SLR. Check out the sound of the shutter and film advance in our vid below.

User manual: To a fault, photographers totally hate reading manuals, but unless you have a lot of experience shooting film cameras, download the EOS-1N’s PDF version from the awesome Butkus camera manual site. There is often too much weird stuff with film cameras to figure out, and there is no reason to make learning about the 1N a woefully miserable experience.

Background

The 1N is the enhanced, improved version of Canon’s first pro camera with an EF mount, the EOS-1. Introduced in 1989, the EOS-1 was designed with a single purpose: to finally and definitively woo pros away from Nikon. Although Canon had actually unveiled its impressive EF autofocus system two years earlier, many pro photographers didn’t initially make the switch to Canon because the system had only enthusiast cameras like the EOS 650 and 620 available. Once Canon brought out the EOS-1’s tough, weather-sealed body with fast frame rates and multiple metering options, Nikon began losing the pro sports market. The EOS-1N capitalized on that success by giving photographers more autofocus points and even more options for metering. Canon’s marketing material for the camera back then hoped to deliver a clear message: pros use Canon. Or, as the magazine ads below insist, “Now it’s Canon.”

Battery Access

Although the EOS-1N is a pro camera made in 1994, it has one annoying SLR-design holdover from the ‘70s and ‘80s: to access the battery compartment, you have to unscrew the grip. I use a coin to get it open.

Thankfully, the 2CR5 battery lasts quite a long while, so you shouldn’t need to do this often unless you are fortunate enough to be shooting a ton of film.

Turning on the Camera

Unlike with most modern digital cameras you have probably used, the power switch is located toward the bottom and doesn’t offer any words as beautifully straightforward as “Off” and “On.” Instead, the switch has three settings:

• The first is designated with the letter “L.” In this position, the camera is turned off. The “L” here might stand for “Lock,” which does make sense because the camera is inoperable when in this setting.
• Next is the letter “A,” which turns the camera on and puts it into a “silent” mode. It will not beep when focus is confirmed.
• The last one looks a bit like a WiFi symbol. When this is selected, the camera is on and will beep for focus confirmation in one-shot mode.

Loading Film

Loading film is extremely quick and headache free with the 1N. Just open up the back cover, insert the canister (with the flat end up), and pull the film lead until it reaches the orange mark on the camera. Line up one of the sprockets with a hole in the film, and then close the back cover. When you turn the camera on, the film will advance automatically. That’s it. No need to even set the ISO if your film is DX coded (and most are today). If all is good, you’ll see on the camera’s top LCD a series of transport bars that indicate a roll of film is loaded. The number “1” means your first frame is ready to shoot.

Button Awesomeness

Instead of having on the top of the camera a large mode dial, which is the hallmark of current consumer and prosumer cameras, the EOS-1N features a small group of mighty buttons. It’s the same basic arrangement that all the 1-series DSLRs still use, and I much prefer it: no wasted space, and the buttons are easier and quicker to operate than a dial.

From top to bottom, we have the following:

• The mode button. Press and hold it, and you can use the shutter dial to cycle through all the shooting modes.
• The AF button. This one allows you to toggle between one-shot and servo.
• The metering and exposure compensation button. Press and hold it, and you can cycle through three metering options with the shutter dial or adjust exposure comp with the quick control dial.

Those are straightforward enough, but there is also a pair of two-button combinations. Curiously, they provide quick access to settings that I don’t think are terribly crucial (they’d be better off stuck behind the flippy door with the other infrequently used stuff):

• Press and hold the AF and metering buttons, and you can manually set your film’s ISO. Pretty much all film rolls have had a DX code since 1983, so it would be rare for a shooter to need to set ISO manually.
• Press and hold the mode and metering buttons, and you can set a frame for multiple exposures (up to 9 exposures on a single frame). Pretty cool, but again not something I imagine most photographers need to access frequently and quickly.

Manual Exposure Nirvana

My problem with most SLRs produced throughout the ‘70s and ‘80s is that they were designed primarily to be shot in an autoexposure mode. I have nothing against autoexposure of course as long as a camera can easily be used in manual too, but the metering in many models was just outright hostile unless put into an auto mode. Even when Canon completely redesigned its lens mount in the late ‘80s, the camera it chose to introduce—the EOS 650—implemented a needlessly painful and awkward form of manual exposure.

Canon did not make that same mistake with the pro-level 1 series. The shutter dial remained in the usual spot on the grip, but on the back of the 1 and 1N, Canon placed a large and beautiful “quick control dial” that adjusted aperture. For the first time, Canon photographers could control with one hand shutter and aperture speeds. Manual shooting had never before been so fast and so easy. The quick control dial is used on all upper-level Canon DSLRs to this day.

Diving Into DEP

Along with manual exposure, the 1N includes all the usual modes—aperture and shutter priority, program, and bulb—but there is one funky (and potentially cool) addition: depth of field mode, or DEP as it is labeled on the 1N’s LCD.

DEP was first featured on the EOS 650 in 1987, disappeared two months later on the EOS 620, and was resurrected in 1989 on the EOS-1. A modified version of it lives on as A-DEP mode on some consumer Canon DSLRs.

Depth of field mode allows the photographer to set two focusing points—one in the foreground and one in the background. The camera will then set an aperture and shutter value to ensure that everything within those two points is in focus. There are definitely some interesting possibilities here for the photographer:

• Shooting a large group at a wedding reception? Set one focusing point on the closest person, and set the other on someone in the back. In theory, the entire group will be in focus when you shoot the frame.
• Using a macro lens to shoot an insect and want it all in focus? One focusing point can be set on the head and another on the tail.
• Taking analogue selfies with the camera’s timer? Set two focusing points and just stand between them.  

Essentially, DEP mode removes any guesswork for getting an appropriate depth of field, which is helpful when shooting film because you can’t immediately review your shot like you can on digital.

To set the first focus point, aim your camera and press the shutter button halfway down. To set the second point, aim your camera in a different spot and press the shutter halfway down again. To take a photo, aim your camera somewhere in the middle of the two points. Pressing the shutter halfway one more time will show you the aperture and shutter settings the camera has chosen; press all the way down to finally fire the shutter and make the exposure.

DEP is pretty cool actually, even though a bit slow when put into practice, and I can’t help but think that something more practical and awesome could have come of it, especially on one of Canon’s modern video or cinema cameras.

Custom Function Confusion?

For a pro piece of gear, the EOS-1N is a fairly straightforward camera: pop on a lens, pop in some film, select a metering and shooting mode, and happily fire away. But when the camera was introduced in ‘94, some photographers felt that the 1N’s Achilles heel was its “confusing” custom functions menu. Digital photographers nowadays are well used to clicking and swiping through screens and screens of woefully intricate menus, so the EOS-1N’s problem area seems pretty quaint now. And in truth, many photographers won’t even need to bother with custom functions.

If, however, you do want to explore the extent of possible customization, B&H has a nicely formatted table of the EOS-1N’s 14 available functions. I’ll review here a couple of the more useful/interesting/arcane options, beginning with the mysterious flippy door on the side of the camera.

To get started with custom functions, open the flippy door, and press the CF button once. Then use the shutter dial to cycle through the 14 functions. Each function itself has from two to four options (labeled on the LCD from 0 to 3 if there are four of them); you toggle those options by pressing the CF button again. And again. And again. In fact, you’ll end up pressing the CF button a lot, which is a bummer because it’s a small button and quite mushy. Thankfully, once you get this stuff set up to your liking, you likely shan’t have to mess around with functions again.

Fixing BC Errors

All older film-shooting cameras will eventually succumb to some sort of malfunction (yes, Leica, even you too). The EOS-1N, although an extremely well-built tank of a camera, seems to be particularly vulnerable to BC errors. When it happens, you’ll see “BC” appear on the top screen like in the pic below.

Unfortunately, “BC” is a catchall category for just about anything that might have gone wrong with the camera’s internals. Most often, however, it means the mirror has locked up. You’ll know it has happened because you won’t be able to fire off a frame. It’s caused apparently by stuck magnets near the lens opening.

I had my EOS-1N for a good 6 years before it happened to mine. If it happens to you too, you’ll most likely need to get your smallest screwdriver ready and take off the face plate. It sounds terrifying if you are not a DIY person (I am totally not one, so I feel your terror), but there are some great vids that will talk you through the process. I recommend this one by Cannon Fast Reviews.

It’s actually pretty painless. Here is my camera all naked and ready for surgery. Happy to report that it was a success.

Should You Buy an EOS-1N?

I’ve made a lot of profoundly dumb and recklessly uninformed photography purchases during my time so far on Earth, but the EOS-1N isn’t one of them. Not even close. I love this damn camera, and it makes me want to work hard at being a better photographer so that one day it might love me back. If you are at all interested in shooting film and desire an easy-to-use, tough-as-a-tank, quick-to-focus 35mm camera, just fork over the 150ish bucks for Canon’s EOS-1N. You’ll start your own lovefest.

The post Canon EOS-1N Camera Review appeared first on scott locklear.

Spec Summary

Format: 35mm.

Dates: Manufactured from March 1987 to February 1989. So any 650 you buy today will be older than Nirvana’s Nevermind. And smell like anything but teen spirit.

Current cost and availability: I got mine seven years ago for 69 bucks from a proper camera shop that (in theory) checked it out and graded it in nearly new shape. On eBay, you can readily find them anywhere from $10 to $90 (but buyer beware on the camera’s actual condition). B&H, Adorama, and KEH sometimes have them in their used stock too.

Price update 2023: Prices for the 650 have thankfully remained pretty stable! You can find one, like I did, for $70 all day long.

Price update 2024: Holding steady at a reasonable $60 to $80.

Price update 2025: Despite the absolutely galling price inflation for 35mm cameras during the past few years, the 650 is a bargain at around 70 bucks for a copy in good shape. It’s by no means the most satisfying-to-use film camera still available, but it’ll get the job done at a price that remains reasonable.

Autofocus: Yes. And this is the camera that really started it all off for Canon. It features a single, centered autofocus point that for the time was considered quite mighty.

Lens mount: EF. Lenses are thus super easy to find in every price range used and new. There are literally millions of EF lenses out in the wild.

Battery: The camera takes a single 2CR5. You can get them from Amazon, Best Buy, Walmart, and so on, but they don’t seem to be quite as available or cheap as they used to be. They are rated to last about 40 rolls, which feels right though I haven’t actually counted. They also can be stored in the camera for a long while without dying. I had my 650 packed away for about a year, and the battery fired up just fine.

Weight and construction: 660 grams or 1.45 pounds or a little over two of Canon’s 50mm f/1.4 lenses. It’s made of the usual engineering plastic (like a contemporary Rebel), so the weight is very manageable. But you don’t want to have fumbly fingers over concrete.

Light meter: Yep, it has one, and if you’ve used a current Canon digital camera, you will feel right at home with the metering as long as you are shooting shutter or aperture priority. Shutter speed and aperture can be adjusted only in half stops though. I dig that, but if you rely on third stops from your digital camera, it might be annoying.

Max shutter speed: 1/2000. Fast enough for most daylight uses. Depending on your lens’s maximum aperture and the film speed you are using, you might not be able to shoot wide open on sunny, bright days.

Flash sync speed: 1/125. Not that far from many modern digital cameras and fine for studio/indoor work.

Film advance and rewind: It’s all automatic and painless and pretty quick.

User manual: I know, I know. Photographers don’t ever read instructions, but you’ll likely need a manual for these older cameras, especially if you don’t have much experience with film gear. There is just too much weird stuff to figure out. Luckily, Canon hosts a comprehensive Camera Museum where you can download a pristine PDF of the EOS 650 guide.

History of the EOS 650

Up until 1987, Canon was second place in the SLR pro market to Nikon. Autofocus at that time was in its infancy, so pros wouldn’t go anywhere near it. Canon realized that its then-current FD mount, which it had invested a lot of time and money in, wouldn’t be up to the challenge of providing the best autofocus experience, so the conservative company did the most forward-looking thing in its history: it ditched the FD mount and came out with what we all know as the EOS EF. The mount is special because the focusing motors are in each lens itself, not the camera’s body. It’s super quick even now, but back then it was a revelation. Canon pros at the time were furious because they had also invested so much time and money into the FD mount, but they and a whole bunch of Nikon users were eventually won over. Canon to this day dominates in the pro sports market.

In March 1987, the mild-mannered EOS 650 was introduced as the first Canon camera with this new mount. It’s at best an enthusiast camera that would be surpassed by the EOS 620 a couple of months later, but all of us Canon shooters owe a hat tip to this first comer that was “designed for the future.” Check out the subtle ‘80s marketing material.

Me and My EOS 650

But I didn’t know about any of that history stuff when I purchased my 650 seven years ago. I was simply looking for a more modern 35mm film camera than the one I had, a manual-focusing Minolta XG1. At the time, I was also really interested in having printed images that were produced on 35mm film; the actual process of making them—the tactile experience of manually advancing and rewinding film, of selecting shutter speed on a dial or aperture on the lens—was something I already had with the Minolta. Instead, I wanted something faster, something more akin to the experience of shooting on digital but with the end result of an image printed from film. Because I was already shooting with a 7D and had a handful of EF lenses that I really liked, the 650 seemed like a good fit for the gear in my bag and the money in my wallet.

And in truth the camera was. On music gigs, I’d throw it in the bag with a cheap 50mm f/1.8II attached and loaded with Ilford 3200. After digitally getting all the shots I needed for the job, I could grab the 650 and just have fun. If the pics sucked (and they frequently did…my fault, not the camera’s), it was no biggie because I knew it was playtime.

If that sounds like the camera is merely a toy….you are not totally wrong. For me, the 650 is at best an incredibly capable and quite fun toy camera because of its quirky and ultimately useless manual exposure mode. If you can’t put and use a camera in manual, it just ain’t…a serious camera. For my needs anyway. You can judge for yourself after we dive into the 650’s quirks.

Battery Access

Unlike a lot of film cameras, the EOS 650 thankfully uses a still-pretty-easy-to-purchase battery, the 2CR5. Unfortunately, though, the camera’s battery compartment isn’t as easy to access as the one in a modern digital camera. You first have to unscrew and remove the 650’s grip. I use a quarter to loosen the screw, and it looks kind of stupid and is kind of cumbersome, so I wouldn’t want to do it during anything critical or when clients are around. Happily, a 2CR5 battery lasts quite a long time, especially if you are running only a few rolls of film a month through the camera, so you could easily go a year before needing to replace the battery.

Turning the Camera On

The main switch has four positions, three of which might not be clear if you are coming from a modern digital camera.

• The L position means the camera is off. Some users have said the letter “L” here stands for “Lock.” Makes sense I suppose. When it is in this position, you can’t take a photo.
• The A position means the camera is on and can be used to take a photo. It will not beep for focus confirmation though.
• The third position looks a bit like a Wifi symbol. When you select this, the camera is on, and it will make a short beep when focus is confirmed and a long beep if the shutter is too slow to eliminate camera shake.
• Finally, there is the green square position, which is still commonly used today for full Auto. If you select this, the camera will make all the decisions for you, including shutter, aperture, and one-shot mode.

Loading Film and Checking the Shutter

Loading film is a quick process with the 650. Pop open the back cover, stick in the canister (with the tapered end down), and stretch the film until the lead reaches the orange mark. Make sure one of the sprocket holes has a sprocket tooth in it, and close the cover. The film will automatically advance for your first shot, and the ISO will be automatically set if your film has a DX code (most today do). The back cover also has a handy little window that shows what type of film you have loaded.

While you have the back cover open, check your shutter blades. According to forum chat, aged 650s appear to be pretty plagued with sticky shutters because the shutter bumper can melt and deposit goo on the blades. They can apparently be cleaned by using Q-tips with alcohol or lighter fluid, but I can’t vouch for that because I’ve luckily never had to do it. My shutter blades are looking a little worn though.

Rewinding Film

The camera automatically rewinds the film after you take your last shot. What your “last shot” is depends on what the film’s DX code indicates—that is to say, even if the canister technically has more film available, the camera will begin rewinding after the 24th or 36th (or whatever-th) exposure is made. No squeezing out extra shots with the 650.

The autorewind is pretty quick. It takes about 12 seconds to complete a 36-exposure canister. Once the film begins rewinding, the display panel shows moving bars and counts down the remaining number of frames. It’s oddly satisfying.

Hidden Stuff Behind the Flippy Door

Below the film cover on the back of the camera is a small door that flips open to reveal four more buttons. From left to right, we have the following:

• A film rewind button. Press this if you want to rewind your film before you finish the roll. It will automatically begin rewinding. I’ve never actually pressed it (because who wants to waste film?), but I assume it rewinds as quickly as the usual way.
• Next, is a yellow autofocus selector button. It allows you to toggle between one-shot and continuous focusing modes. Press the button and then rotate the shutter button to select each mode.
• Then there is a blue button that allows you to set the camera’s film advance settings: single shot, continuous shooting, or a self-timer. The max frame rate for continuous shooting is 3 frames a second. The self-timer is for 10 seconds.
• Press both the yellow and blue buttons to manually set your film’s ISO. You’ll need to use this for sure if your film does not have a DX code.
• Finally, there is a battery check button. If you press it and “bc” blinks on the top LCD, the camera is malfunctioning. Before, however, you take it in to a repair shop (or simply throw it in the trash and buy another one), take out your battery and clean the battery contacts with a Q-Tip. Dirty battery contacts often trigger a camera’s malfunction warning. Always, always check battery contacts if something is amiss! Doing so is a super easy and quick fix.

Quirky Manual Exposure

There is no other way to say it: shooting manual exposure on Canon’s 650 is weird and sucky and ultimately useless. Changing aperture is cumbersome, and manual metering is flat-out bizarre.

Once you put the camera in manual mode, you change shutter speed in the usual way by rotating the dial on the camera’s grip. There is, however, no designated, exclusive aperture dial. To change aperture, you have to press and hold a small button on the side of the lens mount (where the depth-of-field preview button is on modern cameras) and then rotate the shutter dial. You can only change one or the other at a time. Here is what the aperture button (designated with the letter “M”) looks like.

So changing aperture on the 650 means that you have to constantly change your hand position and grip the camera awkwardly, which isn’t at all speedy or ergonomic. The camera essentially forces you to become a slow and stupid wobblemeister who shoots mostly missed moments that are blurry.

But that isn’t the end of the manual misery. Metering for manual exposure uses a needlessly cryptic set of letters to indicate under- and overexposure.

• “OP” means the shot is underexposed. You have to, as the manual says, “OPen the aperture.”
• “oo” indicates a correct exposure.
• “CL” means the shot is overexposed. You have to, again as the manual says, “CLose the aperture.”

Painfully lame, yes? To make it even worse, there isn’t any indication of how under or over you might be. To make it even doubly worse, you need to press and hold the aperture button for the camera to show a meter reading. Because metering isn’t constant, you can’t adjust shutter or aperture on the fly and see the results of your adjustments.

Canon, in short, (mis?)designed this camera to be shot exclusively in an automatic mode, and the only way you can possibly get on with the 650 is to embrace its intrinsic auto-natured-ness. Mine lives and will eventually die in aperture priority. Once I accepted that, shooting the 650 became a fun experience.

Mode Button Kudos

Most current digital SLRs have a big dial on the top of the camera for switching among the AV/TV/Program/Manual modes. The 650 instead uses a simple and space-saving button inherited from Canon’s final flagship FD-mount camera, the T90. It’s the same simple setup that the later pro-level 1 series cameras, both film and digital to this day, would inherit as well. I totally dig it. I’ve never understood wasting all that physical space for something that isn’t really changed that often. And even if a shooter does like to toggle between modes quite a bit, using a button and the shutter dial is just as quick.

Should You Buy a Canon EOS 650?

Knowing what I do now, I wouldn’t buy one again, but it might be the right camera for you if you fall into one (or both) of these two specific cases:

1. You don’t have a ton of cash and you already shoot with a Canon digital camera and a collection of EF lenses. You really want to give 35mm film a go, and you want the experience of using a film camera to be pretty painless, so it needs to have autofocus, modern(ish) metering, and automatic film advance and rewind. Most important, you live in aperture or shutter priority, and truly love living there. A 650 is absolutely not the right camera if you shoot in manual and/or want the “authentic” film shooter experience of manually focusing and manually advancing/rewinding film.
2. You are a camera collector or a Canon completist. The 650 is historically important and interesting enough to own, and it’s cheap enough to inoffensively do nothing but shelf duty in a dusty collection.

That said, an autofocusing, fast-loading 35mm camera is still definitely a viable option in your gig bag if you want to shoot and produce film. Instead of the 650, the better Canon alternatives are the pro-level EOS-1 or EOS-1N (or ideally the 1V if you can swing the big cash premium). My lightly scratched 1N cost $175 three years ago; the extra hundred bucks over the 650’s price was totally worth it to me, and I suspect it shall be to you too once you shoot with one.

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