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There’s an interesting debate taking place online at the moment about the very nature of the word ‘film’. What constitutes a ‘film’? Now that the majority of people technically shoot video, is the word still valid? With the advent of mass user generated content drowning the internet, what delineates a film? Is it all not just content?The fact that this debate is happening across various websites, forums and social media channels is in itself a thoroughly modern phenomenon and indicative of the way things have changed.

When is a film not a film?

To answer this question I wrestled with various definitions. Then I actually started to reflect back on my own personal journey, my own history with various cameras, films and film-making to see where that would lead me…

It starts for me in 1977, when I was 5. The Polaroid company introduced the Polavision cine camera which brought to the world of cine film-making the instant imagery that Polaroid had pioneered with the Land camera. My Dad bought one of these for the family and it was our first foray into the world of film. The camera was small, light and easy enough for a child to operate. Uniquely, it took plastic cartridges that once finished were placed into a large TV like viewer for processing and several minutes later, the film was ready and could be watched on the screen.

There was no sound and the images were often dark and the colours muted, but to us this was magic. The fact that you could watch yourself on-screen was so new and exciting it didn’t matter about the quality of the image.

The cartridges were limited in length to about 3mins and there was no facility for editing, which meant that all cuts were done in camera. Our favourite trick would be to film someone – stop the camera and have them run out of shot – then start filming again. Boom. Disappearing person.

This was like hi-tech special effects for us and we spent most of our time working on more complex versions of this same stunt.

Looking for more challenging scenarios, we attempted little sketches or even a bit of narrative – recreating silent movie moments, TV sketches or shooting tin cans off a wall by yanking them with threads from behind.

But despite the fact that these were all being shot on  film, we never referred to these little pieces of history as ‘films’. The term we used and that everybody seemed to use was ‘Home Movies‘.

Not long after the Polavision, VHS and Betamax became prevalent and as a result, our Home Movies became Home Videos. We got a large Olympus camera recorder combination. A separate camera with a ‘portable’ VHS recorder carried on your shoulder.

Suddenly we could record forever. We could have sound, better colour and we could watch the tapes back immediately in our VHS video player that sat underneath the TV.

As a result, the camera became ubiquitous, and for a period of time we never had a family event without recording everything – birthdays, fireworks, Christmas. Family arguments, games and music. For some reason, the fact that it was so cheap and easy to film meant that we actually experimented less. We didn’t censor – we just shot.

Then we took the three hour long tapes and put them on a shelf somewhere and forgot about them.

Our school had a camera much like the Olympus, and it was with this that I made my first outing into the world of film-making. My friend Jake – who is now a very successful director/editor, decided to shoot a short horror film. Inspired heavily by the likes of Sam Raimi we set out as a small team into the woods and shot a short film in a day. Editing everything in camera – jump cuts, fight sequences – tricky stuff.

We watched the film the other day – up in his edit suite in Soho. We had a good laugh about it, but I think we’d both say we were proud of the effort that went into it. Trying to tell a story with nothing more than images, sound effects and music was difficult. But it kind of worked.

After the VHS cameras we moved into VHS-C and my family invested in a Panasonic MC30 VHS-C camera. The combined camera and recorder giving birth to the word – Camcorder. The size of the camera meant it came everywhere with us. Holidays were never complete without it and we have a great library of memories as a result.

But my interest in getting that camera was different. I knew the picture quality was going to be higher than anything we had seen before and I wanted to use it to make films.

There was seemingly never a shortage of people who were willing to join together and take part in the film-making process – standing out in all weathers, working late and through the night. There was no post-production process available to us, so we still cut everything in the camera. But when the film was finished shooting, we could all gather together and see the fruits of our labours.

This was a great period of time. Joyful experimentation – unburdened by technicalities and freed by the simplicity of the process.

Eventually, I left school and went to work in a London department store specialising in photographic and video equipment – my experience with the Panasonic camcorder being the selling point that got me the job.

I was suddenly immersed in a vast world of new video technology. A format war was raging between 8mm and VHS-C tape. Cameras were getting smaller and smaller and more features were being added every week – the ability to fade or add titling. Automatic focus, white balance, exposure – automatic everything. It was a boom time for video, as everyone jumped on the bandwagon.

8mm and VHS-C eventually  gave way to Hi8 and SVHS-C. More picture quality. Broadcast quality! (A phrase I would hear reiterated for many generations of camera to come).

As the cameras advanced, so did the accessories that were available for them. And a lot of these accessories encouraged shooters to become much more than ‘home movie’ makers. Fluid tripod heads, wide-angle adapters. Mixers that allowed you to combine two cameras. Mixers that allowed you to do basic colour correction and add effects! Strobing, mosaic, freeze frame – cutting edge effects…

I remember when we first got a Steadicam Jnr in and I rushed to unbox it and set it up with a display camera. I revelled in any opportunity I had to demonstrate it.

With this ready access to more equipment I shot more little films. I used the Steadicam on a short  – now shooting with a Yashica branded Sony Hi8 camcorder. We took the shooting so seriously that we actually went back and reshot a scene when it became apparent that the boom ‘operator’ was visible in a reflection.

Those early days of experimentation were fearlessly brilliant. Everyone gave up there free time to try their best to make a coherent film with a good story. None of us truly knew what we were doing – but we were making films.

This was all pre-internet. So the only audience for these films were your friends and family. Anyone you could persuade to sit down in front of the video and watch. I entered a few amateur competitions, but that was it. It was about the experience and the thrill that we could do it.

Cameras continued to advance technically. HI 8 and SVHS gave way to DV and with every generation we came closer and closer to the look of what we saw on TV. Then with the DVX100, with its 24/25p and cine gamma curve, we were able to shoot what looked like film.

And then came the HVX200.

This camera changed everything for me. For many it was the DVX100 but I missed this generation and went straight to the HVX200. All of the brilliance of the DVX100 but with HD.

This period of camera ownership was defined by one thing – the internet. I was able to find out everything I could about this camera prior to buying it. Never before with any camera purchase was so much information available. By the time I bought the camera I knew everything about it. What it could and couldn’t do. How sharp it was or wasn’t, how it compared to just about every camera you could imagine. How it performed in every manner of situation you could think of.

This persistent scrutiny gave birth to the online ‘camera test’. People posting short video clips online only for the rest of the world to analyse every pixel. People’s pets, back gardens, girlfriends – it didn’t matter. Like me everyone wanted to know how good the camera was.

Not long after this, the emerging 35mm adapter world really took off. I had been aware of some of the early 35mm adapters – but not paid them much attention. Now, in combination with the HVX200 and the new Sony EX1, they become much more practical.

I bought an SGPRO and shot some corporates with it – because now, I was making a living from shooting. Adapters improved, and online interest in them grew and grew until people became rampant about them. How to use them, which was the best one, what accessories did you need. The fact that you now had control over depth of field resulted in an endless parade of films with an array of various shallow depth of field shots.

Throughout all of these tests and analysis the persistent question was – How much did it look like film? This became a crucial point. Everyone was obsessed by how much it could look like film.

And yet, people weren’t really making films…

My entire camera owning career, from cine to now had been about making films, but slowly it had become more about how to make it look like film. But now the technology was there to ensure that everything really did look like film, nothing else seemed to have changed. People had been driving so hard to get to this point, it seemed like no-one knew what to do once they got there.

That’s not to say there weren’t some people out there doing great things, because there were – but the majority of people seemed to just be shooting tests. To the extent that this became a new genre. An acceptable form of work. These are just demonstrations of various camera techniques, yet people began to critique other people’s ‘tests’. They were lauded, imitated, elevated.

And the power of the internet is such, that it affords you instant feedback. This can be a great thing – I have a couple of short films online that were improved and shaped by people’s feedback. I have been encouraged to examine further aspects of my work due to viewers reactions. But the speed with which feedback is possible leads to a desire for instant gratification.

Shoot something in the morning, slap some music on it and bang. Plaudits by the evening.

I know, because I did this with the Panasonic GH1.

As soon as 35mm adapters came, they went again. Replaced by yet another step towards the ‘film look’. Smaller, easier, cheaper cameras. The birth of the DSLR.

I shot my ‘beauty’ film test and got it up online fast. I bought it in Hong Kong and knew it would be one of the first tests on the net.

It’s my most watched online video. By a long, long way. Not my most recent drama short. Not the short I actually shot in S16mm film. My camera test.

That’s an easy trap to jump back into. Why would I sweat over another script and the balls-ache of getting a crew together for no-one to see it. I could just wait for the next new camera to come out, try to be one of the first online with it and bang. I’m a hero.

How many videos did you see when the Canon 550/T2i came out that professed to be The First… First ‘real’ film. First ‘production’ model. First ‘lowlight test’ etc. etc.

And the manufacturers are smart to this. They now hand out pre-production models for people to shoot on. A mixture of art and commerce that raises some serious questions. These ‘testers’ might mention negative points in their reviews, but they sure as hell aren’t going to shoot anything that looks bad. They’re artists. They want their work to look good. They’re not technology writers testing a new product, or arts reviewers giving an opinion on a new piece. They know that they have a shot at getting an early camera test online and driving a massive audience to them and their work. And that means recognition and subsequent business.

There is no incentive to shoot the stuff that looks ugly.

So are these films? When exactly is a film not a film? Well, the truth of it is, you can writhe through every determinant you want, but like art if someone want to call a piece of work a film, it is one. It just is. Doesn’t make it a good film, but nevertheless it becomes a film the moment someone says it is.

So where does that leave us?

We stand on the brink of a revolution in film-making. The bar for entry has been lowered to the ground. The differentiating factor from here-on in is story. Because I believe that the greatest purpose for film-making has, and always will be, as a vehicle for telling great stories. Fictional stories, true stories it doesn’t matter – narrative, documentary, corporate, wedding – they are all about telling a good story. We have a collective responsibility to use the tools available to us to tell great stories – to remember the fearless kids inside all of us who were enthralled by the magic of film and not the equipment behind it. If you have a great story, no-one will question if it’s a film or not, no-one will worry about the camera that shot it.

We have a world of possibility in front of us. So let’s seize it with both hands and together commit to being better.

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