Back to basics

Capturing the spirit of 1954, Leica’s M-A (Type 127) film rangefinder is fully mechanical and doesn’t even have a lightmeter. Damien Demolder goes back in time

I suspect that in the head office of every camera company there is a department dedicated to finding out what the competition is about to do. There will be charts of previous performance, patterns established to forecast next moves and a team of thinkers working on spoilers, outmanoeuvring and staying ahead of the game.

Leica, it seems, moved everyone in that department to other duties when it ran out of competitors – probably when Contax stopped making manual-focus rangefinders in 1962. In the main, Leica takes great pleasure in ignoring what the rest of the camera industry is doing, although the Leica M (Type 240) and the T (Type 701) are indicators that this is all beginning to change. The ‘Do the Opposite’ department is, however, alive and well.

In 2014, when the rest of the world was concentrating on convenience and automation, Leica produced two cameras that not only buck the trend, but which also seem to fly in the face of logic. The Leica M ‘Edition 60’ is a digital camera with no rear LCD screen to review the images, and the Leica M-A is a mechanical film camera with no meter.

Both models got metres of media coverage, with headlines along the lines of ‘Those Crazy Germans’. While the world shook its head in despair, I suspect that Leica knows its audience well, and a bare-bones approach suits many who follow this brand.

Back to basics is actually an ideal that appeals to more photographers than may be immediately obvious. While we all like our high-tech AF, fully featured machines, I believe that many photographers would relish having a rather simpler camera.

This is where the Leica M-A fits in. It’s a camera that takes the idea of simplicity to the extreme. Not only does it not have autofocus, it doesn’t have a metering system, either. Worse, the imaging sensor is made from silver-impregnated gelatine – yes, film. With no fancy trickery to drive, and manual handles to entice the film across the gate, no batteries are needed. This is an entirely mechanical, human-powered affair.

The idea of the M-A is for us to celebrate the 60th anniversary of the M system by getting right back to the roots of the original M3. There have been some amazing pictures taken with non-metering Leica M cameras, so there really is no reason we can’t do the same now. With nothing to think about beyond apertures, shutter speeds and how much film we have left, we should have plenty of brain power to spare for creating images with meaning. But do we want to give up all that has been developed in the past 60 years?

Specifcation

On the surface, there isn’t much to talk about in this section. The Leica M-A is a film camera that takes 135-cassette-loaded rolls of the standard lengths. The frame counter has markings for up to 45 exposures, for those who like to roll their own and end up loading too much film. In a rare concession to automation, the frame counter resets itself to zero when the film is unloaded.

The only photographic control on the body is the shutter-speed dial on the top-plate, which displays full-stop settings from 1sec to 1/1000sec. A further point is marked for B(ulb) exposures beyond the camera’s timed limits.

Flash users can employ any of the settings longer than 1/60sec. There is a dedicated sync setting, marked with a flash symbol, that makes a 1/50sec opening.

These days, a top shutter speed of 1/1000sec coupled with a maximum flash sync of 1/50sec is considered rather limiting, and I don’t think anyone would have complained had we been given 1/4000sec and 1/250sec instead. Those original settings, born of the technology of the day, are just as limiting now as they were then. With Leica’s fast lenses, it would be easy to run out of shutter speeds on a sunny day.

The camera has no meter of its own, so users will need either an external handheld, or hotshoe-mounted, lightmeter, or a combination of experience and guesswork.

The main feature of the camera is the viewfinder, which thankfully has the rangefinder built-in. Focal lengths of 28mm, 35mm, 50mm, 75mm, 90mm and 135mm have guidelines that can be displayed in the viewfinder window, either by attaching that particular lens or by using the guideline preview lever on the front of the body. The coincident and superimposed views are displayed in a bright field in the centre of the viewfinder.

Parallax compensation is applied with coupled lenses according to the focus distance in use, so the guide frames move around the screen to ensure a degree of accuracy with closer subjects.

Build and handling

As you might expect, the Leica M-A is built solidly. Milled from a single lump of brass, the top and base-plates are hard and unbending, while the mechanics on the inside add weight and heft. A tripod socket is built into the right-hand side of the base-plate.

As has always been the case with Leica M bodies, we have to hold the body tightly since no moulded gripping points are provided. The camera is covered with a leather finish that delivers a non-slip surface, and I never felt in danger of dropping the camera. With my thumb to the film winder, the bottom right-hand corner of the camera positions so that my palm encases it, and my little finger can extend along the base of the body. Once the film is advanced, the winder can sit locked in the out position, adding a degree of extra stability and security that is missing from digital Leica M bodies.

The left hand can provide a resting place for the remainder of the camera’s base, while the middle finger of the left hand finds the focus knob on the lens, and the index finger deals with the aperture ring. If you are a DSLR user, it might take a little while to get used to this way of working, but once you do it is comfortable as well as efficient.

Before you get to work shooting, though, you’ll need to load the film. The M-A uses the same loading system as previous M cameras: with the base-plate off, the cassette drops into the film chamber and the leader slots between the prongs of the take-up spool. We then lift the rear flap to wiggle the sprockets into the sprocket holes and to ensure the film runs straight along the guide rails. It is a long time since I was loading and shooting with Leica M4s every day but, once learned, loading a Leica is something that you never forget. I found I could still do it without looking, other than to do a final check that the film was in straight.

Leica has chosen to use the one-piece film wind-on crank that is rigid along its length, rather than the more modern two-part cranks that use a hinge to allow the thumb pad to rotate with the thumb position. My preference is for the latter, but I learned to live with the one-piece version.

I also still prefer a flip-up, arm-type rewind crank, instead of the gnarled knob that the M-A uses. I found it more difficult to determine the difference in pressure once the film had been fully rewound. With arm-type rewind cranks I can tell when the film leader has disengaged from the wind-on spool, but is not yet back in the cassette.

The viewfinder is as bright and cheerful as you would expect from a Leica M, and the rangefinder in the centre of the screen is as easy to use as these things can be. I found that with my glasses on I couldn’t see the whole of the viewfinder screen, which is annoying. So if the camera were mine, I’d have to spend the extra £110 on a dioptre lens for the eyepiece – if I still had £110 left in my account, of course.

The frame guides are very clear and marked well, so are easy to see and use without too much thought. At any one time, guide markings for two focal lengths are on show, and Leica’s tried and tested pairing works well, making it clear which guide is for which angle of view. The widest 28mm setting isn’t too close to the edge of the screen, but you will need to press your eyeball close to the finder to see it all the way round. Meanwhile, the longest 135mm setting is large enough that we don’t have to feel we are looking into the middle of next week.

The dual-image range finding system is bright, clear and easy to use, other than when focusing on a regular pattern, and the windows are well placed on the body so we don’t cover them with our fingers.

As always, the film wind-on crank is long enough that we can wind easily with a single stroke or use multiple short movements to shift the film through the body. If you like to shoot in portrait orientation, you will have to learn to hold the camera with the right hand above the eye, as jawbones and cheeks get in the way of winding when the camera is held the other way around. Film winding is otherwise simple and surprisingly fast, and I could manage about 1fps while keeping the camera reasonably still.

The compact system camera has redefined what we regard as ‘silent’ shooting and, while the M-A has a soft muffed click when the shutter trips, it really isn’t silent. I found myself giving the game away on a couple of occasions in quiet locations, as I got rather too close to my subject. Holding this camera, though, I looked more the harmless old camera anorak than a prying professional out to steal souls.

The shutter-speed dial has enough resistance that it would take a real effort to turn it unintentionally, and it can’t be turned unless the film winder is in the out position – which adds to the unlikelihood of accidents happening. Measured only for full stops, the dial falls into each speed position with a satisfying click. The dial doesn’t rotate continuously, so to get from the B position to 1/1000sec we have to go all the way around the block.

I’m really not sure how much of a big deal it is that this camera doesn’t carry the famous Leica red dot. Leica says its absence helps to prevent the camera from standing out. It does, I suppose, but it is a minor detail. The Leica name is engraved on the top-plate of the matt chrome version, while the black chrome model has been kept plain other than the word ‘Leica’ on the frame of the hotshoe. The Leica symbol has often been called the most expensive red dot in the world, but it seems the company is still able to charge plenty, even without painting it on.

Once you get used to the way you need to hold the Leica M-A, and what you can and can’t do, you may well enjoy it. The trick is to concentrate more on what it offers than to be frustrated by what it doesn’t. I have to say that I rather enjoyed it. I like the way the camera is made and the no-nonsense handling. It is all quite refreshing.

Conclusion

There was a recent TV programme about a group of celebrities who had to live a caveman existence for two months in a remote forest in Bulgaria – to see how they coped foraging for food and making tools. It is an interesting idea, and plenty of us have wondered what life would be like were we taken back to an earlier age. Is it just fantasy that the ‘simple’ life would be uncomplicated and idyllic? I suspect the novelties of cooking over a fire would quickly wear off.

Using the Leica M-A is like living in a cave, but in a warm climate, with plenty of furs to rest on, a warm running river outside, and slow, fat creatures to hunt. It has a sense of perverse luxury that gives and takes away at the same time. It is, I suppose, the equivalent of ‘glamping’ – glamorous camping.

With a few olden-day skills remembered I got by, and I have to say that I rather enjoyed my time with the M-A. Would I want to shoot with it as my main camera? No.

The quality of the camera is wonderful, but in the long-term the inconvenience is not. Modern cameras allow a hit rate that older cameras can’t keep up with, and while I shot some images I’m pleased with using the M-A, I am also conscious that there were pictures I saw but missed, because I couldn’t focus quickly enough or had to spend too long guessing the exposure. Thinking about brightness, shutter speeds and apertures takes more time than shooting in aperture priority and letting the camera do the rest.

There is only a handful of people in the world for whom the £3,100 Leica M-A is a logical purchase. Fortunately for Leica, though, logic has very little to do with how we buy cameras. This will be an emotional purchase – a want, rather than a need. While I liked the M-A very much, were I to require another simple film body, a moderately exercised Leica M4P for £600 would be a more sensible choice. But, of course, that not-made-in-Germany body holds nothing like the prestige of the M-A – and crucially it isn’t new.

Will Leica sell all the M-A bodies it makes? Well, of course it will. Leica might look crazy from the outside, but it understands its market extremely well. The M-A will be a success whether you and I buy one or not.