Movie film is a challenging form of media to preserve and share digitally. This is might be somewhat surprising. Unlike the ephemeral tape media standards of the 90s (looking at you Video8 mirror and DAT mirror), film enjoyed a long run as the de-facto format for capturing motion pictures. Film projectors are pretty easy to come by [1]. Yet, the process of digitizing film requires either recording a projected image (telecine mirror) or digitally scanning each frame. Both approaches require specialized equipment to yield a passable digital twin.
Adding to the complexity of archiving film, the medium itself is subject to all matter degradation that can make it unsafe to project. The kind of film that doesn't explosively combust mirror, cellulose acetate mirror, can still deteriorate via vinegar syndrome mirror. Damp or hot nvironmental conditions can lead to mold growth or thermal expansion respectively [2]. This can render part or all of a given reel unsafe to view conventionally. Since the process of projection relies on precise mechanical timing that can be thrown off if the film sprockets have been physically warped, running bad film through a good projector or good film through a bad projector is a great way to permanently damage the film. Film projector jams somehow ends up messier than a VHS tape eaten by a VCR.
Despite the potential hazards of projecting old film, doing nothing leaves the media (often the only copy of that recording in existence) at risk of further natural decay. Furthermore, even if a film can is stored in ideal conditions, access to the contents is locked to the reel. Anyone who might benefit from a film screening needs to be physically present and sufficiently familiar with the projectionist's art.
It's for these reasons that my friend and film preservationist guru Pamela (of California Revealed mirror) encouraged me to stop waiting for the perfect digitization solution. Access is more important than archival perfection. On her recommendation, I picked up the nicest consumer grade film scanner I could find (the Wolverine MovieMaker Pro mirror) and began digitizing my backlog of accumulated home movie film. This post will go into the process I've been using to get from reel-in-a-can to .mp4 file.
If you'd just like see the results, head over to the Nullbrook home movies page.
Why do I have so much film to digitize? For one, I love bulky, obscure, and expensive hobbies. But I've also been interested in historical media since I was a kid-- particularly when it is one-of-its-kind. Growing up in the Midwest with its cluttered attics and obsession with antiques, I had no lack of opportunities to meander museum-like shops bursting with early 20th century artifacts. I started (inexpensively) by collecting old photos, but where there are old photos, reels of home movies are likely nearby [3].
By the time I was in college I had 8mm/Super8 and 16mm projectors in my bedroom. I would put on small screenings for my roommates in varying states of sobriety. I'm not proud of how many feet of film I destroyed with my bungling. Yet, I did make my first attempts at telecine by projecting onto the hallway wall and recording it with a shitty DSLR. It was start of a tortuous journey of experimentation and frequent frustration but at least I had a digital file that somewhat reflected the film. As I went on to volunteer at a local microcinema mirror and learn under a veteran projectionist [4], my respect for the media grew. And I also developed a corresponding hesistancy to ever project my collection.
My male living space almost 10 years ago from publish date of this post. Women love my Grudge-like AV cable storage
What you can't hear is the mechanical clattering of the sprockets catching in this misadjusted projector
Years later, after on-and-off attempts to get a half-working projector and a DSLR to agree with each other, I visited the Internet Archive mirror in San Francisco. Through a window in the lobby one could watch a laser film scanner running alongside the render 4k digital output. Alas, logistics prevented me from volunteering alongside Jason Scott while I lived in the Bay Area. I was even given the offer of an apprentice film archivist, sorting through stacks of stock film cans in the cellar of Oddball Films mirror. Something something "but I needed to make money" blah blah blah. Regardless, I came to comprehend the gravity of the art. And I had an ideal to strive for.
My breakthrough was in 2022 when I attended Home Movie Day in Nevada City, California mirror, an event uncannily relevant to my interests right in my little town. This event, put on by film archivists from the Bay Area, invited the community to bring in film to be inspected, repaired, and projected in the town's historic theater. Part workshop, part screening, it didn't bring in crowds but the crowds it brought in were my kinds of people. I brought in a few specimens from my own collection to be projected in both the 2022 and 2024 Home Movie Days. In addition to befriending archiving professionals and local history buffs [5], I got an outline of the archiving process that I could iterate on with my own collection.
Take this process with a grain of salt! While it works, not all film is the same. Fragile or obscure format film requires much more diligence and effort to handle. I'm fortunate that 8mm was so widespread in the US retail market. It makes handling the digitization much less delicate than Hollywood archiving. Also, no copyright laws (!?)
While not strictly necessary, having a clean area to work in makes the archival process more pleasant. Spooling film takes up space and foregoing a harness can lead to hundreds of feet of film spilling on the floor. I came across a lovely, well loved steel desk from an estate sale. It still had the marker scrubbles from the previous owner's grandkids. I then did my best to keep this as a dedicated space for film archiving by placing a sticky note reading "DO NOT PUT ANY SHIT HERE" right on top. It worked, at least for a time.
Ha ha, clean desks are for idlers. When I'm actually working, the desk ends up looking more like this:
My collection consists of small-medium sized sets of individual films (~1-50) from disparate sources. When handling a new lot, the first thing I try to do is maintain as much of the original context as possible. When buying film, I try to buy all films available from a vendor if I buy any at all. However, many items have gone through the antique store circuit and members of the source collection get separated. What remains may still have reel numbers or (sometimes excellent) handwritten labels. I try to make sure these don't fall off or get mixed up during handling.
Even though my collection ends up digitized, I tend to fill out a physical intake form as I'm reviewing each film. I've taken a sheet that was provided at the Home Movie Day workshop and modified it a bit to add additional detail.
Download this sheet as a pdf here
Any text on the item is recorded alongside the format, size, and date code. All of this metadata can be ascertained within the first few inches of a given film.
Download the full datecode document as a pdf here
As a means of convincing myself I'm an archivist rather than just a hoarder, I've begun assigning each item an index number. This consists two numbers-- one which corresponds to the lot/group the item belongs and the second is the index the item is within that collection. While I don't often pull out physical items from the collection, assigning an index number and tagging each item keeps them straight during digitization, ensures all members stay together in storage, and gives the item a unique identifier in the database even if it's missing any notes from the original owner.
An important tip I got from professionals is the use of piece of scotch tape including the film id to hold down the tip of the film on the reel. In addition to preventing the film from jumping out of the can prematurely without the melty nature of rubber bands or the rather abrasive metal clamps that were often used in the past, it ensures the film itself is identified even if it's separated from the can.
This can either be the fun or the miserable part of the archiving process. I start by hooking the the reel and a takeup reel on winding unit. It's critical to be aware of the winding orientation of the film to avoid winding it back on the original reel upside down or backwards. I've been given this handy diagram to that effect. I've also learned the lesson personally more times than I'd like to admit. But it's second-nature now, even when I'm toasted.
Next, the film should slowly wound up on to the take-up reel and visually inspected. This doesn't have to be particularly precise or close. I've used an old magnified viewer in the past but 1.) I burned out the lamp and haven't bothered to replace it and 2.) the film doesn't really need to be viewed in order to carry out repairs at this stage. Mold, crumpled film, and bad splices are all pretty easy to spot by touch if not visually. Once a problem section is identified, the film splicer comes into play.
There are two main ways in which two segments of film can be combined: glue and splice tape. While adhesive tends to be more highly regarded by professionals, splice tape is a bit more convenient. Given my Grandfather's tape splices from the 1960s have still held up, I don't feel too bad using splice tape in my work. I get archival-grade splice tape (as well as film leader) from Hollywood Film Supplies mirror. Splicing is as easy slotting the two ends into the splicer sprockets, chopping the frames flush and setting down taping on each side. The hardest part, apparently, is making sure the tape paper makes it into the miniature desk trashcan.
Focus on the splicing, not my handwriting
For each film, I ensure that there's at least an arm's length of leader film at the front and tail. This ensures sufficient leader can be threaded through a projector without missing any frames of the photographic film. I spool through the film, using my fingers to feel along the edges for busted sprocket holes, warped sections, or rough splices. I do my best to cut out sections that are heavily damaged without compromising the film content. Fortunately, most of the film I've processed thus far has been in good-to-excellent condition. Only minimal intervention has been necessary. But there's a whole box of film I got from a sleazy garage sale in Tennessee that smells horribly of vinegar mirror and I've yet to be brave enough to open it up yet.
After a reel has been inspected and repaired, I jot down a few notes on the condition along with any repairs made. If I decide if the reel is safe to project (and it usually is), then the next step is digitization.
I've been using a Wolverine MovieMaker Pro mirror which supports 8mm and Super 8 film and produces 1080p MP4 video to an SD card. While I'd love to have a snazzier or more flexible film scanner (and something that can handle 16mm), I can't complain about the ease of use. Film is loaded up like a projector, threaded through the scanner slot, and spun onto the spool. On command, the MovieMaker scoots the film over the bed, one frame at a time. The result is a complete, clear digital copy of the film without the innumerable artifacts of holding a camcorder up to a projector screen.
Example of one of the archived videos. This one, 050.007, features an awesome stop-motion scene about 90 seconds in
The one issue that I've come across when setting the film scanner in motion in my garage is insects. Attracted by the light, they love to come and land in the space between the film and scanner. This leads to initially-amusing B-movie-style insect silhouettes on some frames. I've learned not to run the scanner over night and my critter problem has gone away.
I generally do a bit of ffmpeg cleanup to trim the video files to only have a little bit of leader visible in the video file:
$ ffmpeg -i 0026.MP4 -ss 00:00:05 -to 00:03:17 -c copy f050.016.mkv
or combine two scans into one:
$ cat list.txt file '051.003-part1.mp4' file '051.003-part2.mp4' $ ffmpeg -f concat -safe 0 -i list.txt -c copy f051.003.mkv
ffmpeg can also be used to generate thumbnails for the videos:
$ for i in *.mkv; do ffmpeg -ss 5 -i $i -vframes 1 -s 420x270 -filter:v 'yadif' thumb_"${i::-4}".jpg; done
I take a bit of time to review each completed video file's content and write a quick description. I've come across tons porn on unmarked film reels over the years but I try not to put porn on the website! The film triage sheets are typed up into a spreadsheet and from there to the Nullbrook database where they become generally available on the Nullbrook Home Movies page.
Even if I never get my fancy $30k laser film scanner, I still want to do my best to preserve the film in my collection. I've set up a few metal cabinets under my house that is climate-controlled and dry. I follow the axiom of media storage:
store Film Flat, store Video Vertical
This nifty cabinet pulls down, revealing film that is otherwise stored flat
My completed material collection hall isn't a particularly professional setup, but if a dungeony crawlspace on Valencia Street in San Francisco was good enough for Stephen Parr and his stack of cans at of Oddball Films, it should be good enough for me for now.
So far I've digitized a couple dozen home movies from six different collections including the eight films from my own family. But I have nearly a hundred films left to catalog and digitize with this more comprehensive process.
As you can see, I need to start following the axiom of flat storage in my backlog
Film has been added to my rotation of archival hobbies alongside photos, floppy disks, and, even most recently, tape video. It's unclear if I'll be able to turn the tide against the incoming archival materials, but I'd better get to it before my second kid is born.
Some guides in pdf form for easier use/printing:
[1] I have eight working projectors (IMAGE)!
[2] Possibly why all of the film I bought on a trip to Vietnam is in deplorable condition. You need a bunker to escape the humidity there.
[3] Estate sales, flea markets, and antique stores will occaisionally have cans for sale. Even if the vendors know what they are, they aren't as hatefully priced as mass-market Disney reels. But, like photos, dealers sometimes feel weird dealing with these intimate personal memories. Yet I've never seen a vendor bat an eye selling WW2 love letters to the highest bidder!
[4] He loved pulling us young pups in with tales of working a drive-in movie theater in the '70s
[5] One particularly knowledgeable and kindhearted patriarch of the historical society bequeathed me a dozen incredibly well-maintained projectors as a way of passing the art to the next generation. Thanks, Chuck!