Above is a picture of one of my most treasured possessions.
Like most items of great value, it isn’t something I bought.
My mother bought this Bell and Howell Regular 8mm home movie projector with her allowance, sometime in the 1950s. She kept good care of it and gave it to me when I was a child, along with a couple of 8mm films to watch on it (a 3 minute-long version of The Thing From Another World, silent and a Keystone comedy with Ben Turpin). I’ve kept good care of it, too, and it’s in pretty much the same condition today it was when she bought it.
My mother didn’t survive as long, not as long as the love of movies she passed on to me, or this handsomely tooled piece of machinery. We built machines differently back then, we built them to last.
I promise, this isn’t one of those “things were better in the old days” nostalgia rants. But, I do find it noteworthy. You see, for most of my viewing I use an HD video projector–I rarely get these gloriously antique projectors out for anything but show. I love my HD projector–its picture is so clean and bright and sharp and colorful, it’s really put me off going to the theater anymore. But my last HD projector (a Panasonic Ptax200U) barely lasted 8 years. At least, I think it died. It got to the point where spending any more money to diagnose what was wrong with it exceeded the cost of just replacing it, so I just installed a new one (a BenQ W1070—— holy Lord this thing is boss). So, yeah—8 measly years. Meanwhile my mother’s B&H projector still runs like new.
Over the years, I’ve accumulated a bunch of projectors of various gauges. Some of them I did buy, some I just sort of received from people who didn’t want them anymore. All of them are relics of another age, artifacts of an entirely different way of watching movies.
1. The Pageant of a Kodak Pageant
This is my normal go-to projector for most situations, when I opt for film over HD video. It’s a Kodak Pageant 16mm. I bought this myself at some point 25 or so years ago back when I worked at a film lab. The latches on the cover are broken, which makes it a pain to move around, but it runs clean and is easy to operate. The mechanism is pretty noisy, but I actually enjoy that–it reminds me I’m watching film.
2. Kodak Pageant, Part Deux
I picked up a spare Pageant at some point later, at a garage sale. It’s not the same model, but has a pleasantly pink hue to the metalwork. (and oh look–another Ben Turpin movie!)
(Not pictured—the Kalart-Victor. I’d bought it because the name was similar to my own, and also it was a “museum” projector. In other words, it had special features designed to protect archival film. If it sensed so much as a single damaged sprocket, the triggers would release the film instantly. At first I thought this was a nice safety mechanism. Then, after discovering it was essentially impossible to run anything through its persnickety workings, I sold it.)
3. The Mad Genius of the Ampro Stylist
The pictures above are of an Ampro Stylist 16mm projector. This belonged to a colleague of my wife’s, who sort of lent it to me and then never came back for it. He’s welcome to have it back if he ever wants it, but until then it’s a real showpiece. Look at that glorious metalwork! Look at the tiny little buttons! But most of all–look at that insane design!!! This is possibly the most impractically designed thing I’ve ever seen.
Most consumer projectors have the source reel loaded on an arm towards the front of the thing, then the film feeds downward through the lens and out the back of the machine to the takeup reel. For some reason the Einsteins responsible for the Ampro Stylist decided it made sense to mount both reels on the front, and have the film feed downwards to the takeup reel below the lens.
How is this supposed to work? You’d have the have the projector mounted on some kind of column, to make room for the takeup reel to hang off the front. Just about any sufficiently supporting table ends up blocking the room needed for the reel. I’ve never actually been able to use this one–but it sure is purty.
4. Bell & Howell Filmosound (this is too functional to warrant a jokey title)
See? This is a sensibly designed projector, made for actual use rather than arty design. It’s another Bell and Howell product, a Filmosound 16mm. B&H started making the “Filmosound” brand in the 1940s but I’m pretty sure this one was made in the 1960s. I got it from the estate sale at the haunted house two doors down. Maybe the house wasn’t really haunted. But they parted with this beauty for just $20. I haven’t used it yet–it needs to be cleaned up before I put any film through it, but it seems in good working order.
5. You’re doing a heckuva job, Brownie
This Brownie 300 Regular 8mm projector is not so much a piece of mechanical eye candy and more just a functional thing. I haven’t used it, because my mother’s 8mm B&H is so much more meaningful, and fun, and beautiful, I don’t really see much point. But I do love the printed exhortation “Plug into the wall outlet only” written on the side. I’m guessing this is a leftover from the days when people used to plug things into light sockets instead.
6. Eumig, I mig, we all mig for ice cream!
Lastly, this is my Eumig Mark S Super-8mm sound projector. I bought this at a Detroit camera shop when I was a film student at University of Michigan. Like all self-threading Super-8 projectors it’s prone to eating film from time to time, but for a thing that was old and used when I bought it 27 years ago, it’s still a reliable workhorse.
(Pictured as well is my Super 8mm copy of Fritz Lang’s Dr Mabuse der Spieler, with the jazzy Konrad Elfer score and a cool illustrated booklet.)
I don’t get these toys out to play much anymore–the hassle of getting it set up and threading the film for what is usually just a single short subject or cut-down digest of a film is prohibitive unless I have a really indulgent guest. But these projectors are works of art in themselves, rewarding to enjoy even when idle.