There is a great deal of talk and writing about analog cameras, and naturally the conclusions are tied to pages such as “the five best” or “the ten best” cameras, because that is what the boys and girls at Google seem to like. It is hard to escape the feeling that these reviews are mainly tied to a number of recurring factors:
1/ The manufacturer’s specifications.
A camera from a series by the same brand with a fastest shutter speed of 1/2000 instead of 1/1000 automatically seems to become the best within that particular line.
2/ Sensitivity to brand names.
Leica is a good example. Americans in particular seem unable to feel complete without one, which is amusing, because in its country of origin the camera is considerably less popular.
Perhaps I am mistaken, but on my street, where hundreds of tourists pass by every hour, I notice a striking number of Leicas hanging from American necks, and rarely from those of Germans.
With deep emotion I watched a TikTok video in which a young woman could not let go of her old, inexpensive Canon, even though she had owned a Leica with two lenses for two years. She had saved for years and even held on to a job in a rather toxic environment to afford it.
Yet, she admitted, she kept reaching for that Canon every single time, because it simply felt better. Worse still, in her own perception, she produced better photographs with it. She clearly struggled to share that feeling with the world, glancing with a sense of guilt at the Leica placed proudly in front of her, brand new and clearly unused.
In my mind I shouted: sell that thing and use the money to travel the world for half a year with your old Canon, capturing whatever you can. But my thought was interrupted by her conclusion: “I will eventually see that camera as my main one. It is just a matter of getting used to it.”
3/ Never try to get used to a camera that does not feel right.
If it does not feel right, it simply is not meant for you.
I personally test many analog cameras for True Photography Magazine, and with each one I need a short adjustment period. That may take a day or two, and then I know whether it could be something for me. That says very little about the quality of the camera, but everything about my personal response to it.
4/ Cameras are rarely universal tools.
Most cameras are designed with a specific purpose in mind. The Mamiya RB67 is often considered a cumbersome, extremely heavy beast, yet it was designed for photographing products on an industrial scale. Off the top of my head, I cannot think of another camera that does this quite as well.
Perhaps a Hasselblad comes close, but then I miss the rotating back that allows for quick switching between vertical 6×7 and horizontal 6×7. A crucial convenience in product photography.
In fact, you can photograph almost anything with an RB67, as long as you accept that it prefers to live on a tripod, ideally one of those old column stands that have fallen out of fashion.
5/ Modern reviews often repeat a mistake that was made in a completely different field during the 1960s and 1970s.
At that time, lenses were discussed more frequently and in greater detail than the cameras themselves. With an astonishing faith in statistics, lenses were tested side by side. Not for rendering of texture, not for contrast, but primarily for the number of lines per millimeter a lens could resolve in a laboratory setup.
There were lenses that could separate 80, 120, or even 300 lines per millimeter. The best lens was simply the one that resolved the most lines. These tests were undoubtedly scientifically sound, but they completely ignored how many lines the widely used film stock Kodak Tri-X could actually render, let alone what the human eye is capable of resolving.
It was obvious that extremely high-contrast lenses scored highest, but I personally have no need to go out shooting with an excessively contrasty lens.
Finally, I would like to say something that may sound like pure madness: pay attention to how beautiful you find a particular camera, and whether the shutter sounds pleasing.
The first matters because you will carry that camera around your neck for years. The second matters for that one perfect shot, the decisive image. At that moment, you do not want the experience to be disturbed by an unpleasant shutter sound.