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THROUGH THE SUPER-8 YEARS
The roll call in heaven was about to begin for new arrivals. The one in charge went down the line of women and men asking their occupations. "And sir, what did you do with your life?"
: The answer came quickly, "I was an accountant -- for thirty-seven years."
"And you sir?"
"Twenty years in the military, then a second career as a businessman."
"And you, miss?"
"Medical doctor – pretty much general practitioner."
Now the one in charge approached me. The same question was asked, and I answered without hesitation.
"Super-8 filmmaker!"
Maybe this is not how it will go whenever that time comes to enter the hereafter, but if I had my choice in the matter, that description would certainly fit my occupation. I love film and that’s all there is to it. I’m stuck on Super-8, not because I think it superior in the smaller gauges, but primarily because that’s what I grew up with in the 1970s.
I was very fortunate to have an extremely creative older brother when I was growing up. In the 70s, we didn’t have cable TV, Nintendo, computers, or any of the passive electronic gadgets that occupy so many young minds today. Naturally, as kids, we sometimes played with the neighbor boys in our back yards, rode our bicycles everywhere imaginable, and played many board games. My brother, however, was forever inventing his own games. In the early 70s my parents bought a Panasonic cassette tape recorder – the latest in affordable technology. Soon, my brother was making "radio plays". He’d write a script and act out all the parts, recording each on the tape recorder to play back to all his friends. There were of course plenty of sound effects to enhance the mood.
Another game was called the stock market. An elaborate system of play money was minted (by my brother, of course) and distributed to a few of us. We each could invest in several stocks, which went up and down according to some formula that included a whole series of events. In each of these invented games, I would try to copy, or at least become involved in some way, to join in the fun.
Eventually, it didn’t take big brother long to realize he could make his own movie epics with Dad’s ‘65 Bell & Howell Super-8 movie camera (which by ‘74 wasn’t used anymore). This became the best game of all, making epics every summer when school was out. When not being used for a stand-in, or minor bit role, I was in charge of editing, which meant I was allowed to use Kodak tape splices to connect one roll to another when an epic lasted for several 50’ reels. Three summers later I was dismissed from my editing position, when brother found out he could do a lot more with editing than simply stringing several rolls of film together. He upgraded from the Bell & Howell to a GAF with a powerful 8:1 zoom lens and three shooting speeds: 18, 24, and 36 fps. Shooting scripts were written, neighbors and friends became cast members and were assigned their roles, and one 30-minute production practically took the entire summer of ’76 to film and edit. Although demoted from my previous position as film editor, big brother still gave me minor roles to play as well as the coveted "director of continuity" title. This was silent filmmaking at its finest, complete with titles inserted when the scripts called for dialogue. Music was cued to that Panasonic cassette recorder and played (not exactly in synch) with the film. Cast parties were created with lots of popcorn eaten when the epic was finally projected. Sometimes the most fun was in watching a second reel of edited "out takes" of the "stars".
The following year came my brother’s ultimate purchase: a Chinon 1206 sound camera. He had now hit the big time: a full-fledged Super-8 producer/writer/director/star. But by this time the Super-8 bug had hit me too, and I was ready to do my own filmmaking with the purchase of an Elmo 612 sound camera. Those were glorious days is amatuer filmdom, with nothing more exciting than checking the mailbox for the latest issue of Super8Filmaker magazine, or going down to the camera store to pick up a roll of film that had just been processed. The anticipation was such that I would immediately unspool the leader in my hands, and hold the first few frames up to a light to see if the image exposed properly.
More epics were imagined in my head than were actually transformed into celluloid, but a lot of cartridges of film went through that Elmo in several years. Somewhere along the way all this summer fun ended for me by the time I was knee deep into my college days, and by graduation in ’84 Super-8 was already fast declining due to video, and my free time and energies were directed away from filmmaking. The Elmo was finally shelved in the closet.
Ten years later an amazing thing happened. With a renewed interest in films and filmmaking, and some disappointing results with video camcorders, especially in the editing process, it seemed time to get that old Elmo out of the closet. Looking at those old films from the 60s home movies to my brother’s epics in the 70s showed an amazing thing: beautiful color, and a look like they had just been shot yesterday. And what a glorious sight to see on a large movie screen! The Super-8 bug was hitting me again, and this time for good (maybe it had never left me). I also discovered a whole lot of used Super-8 equipment for sale, sometimes at very attractive prices.
Last year I probably shot more Super-8 film than ever – around 2500 feet, mostly Kodachrome. This year I hope to do just as much. I use Kodachrome for all my home movies, and Kodachrome, Ektachrome, or even black & white for more adventuresome projects.
The thrill is just as great as it used to be; the anticipation just as much; the joy of watching and sharing one’s creation on a large screen as splendid as ever. I still have the habit of unspooling freshly processed film in my hands before it hits the projector gate, just to see how the image looks. In some ways, it’s a better hobby as an adult because so many projects actually get finished the way they were intended, and there is never a lack of ideas. I see things differently than I did as a teenager twenty years ago. Epics don’t have to be made, as simple little stories can make wonderful short films. Just the artistic beauty of film can sometimes make any story more interesting. There are so many stories worth the beauty of Super-8 filming – it’s just a shame I still don’t have all my summers free for this activity as when I was younger.
--- Chris Cottrill
E-mail: chris_cottrill@yahoo.com