There’s a particular kind of friction that comes with loading a roll of film into a camera. You have to open the back, feel for the leader, thread it into the take-up spool, advance until the sprocket holes catch. Do it wrong and you lose the whole roll.
This is not efficient. It is not convenient. It is, I would argue, exactly the point.
The Constraint is the Feature
Digital photography has given us something remarkable: essentially infinite attempts at any given image, instant feedback, and the ability to adjust every parameter in post. These are genuine gifts. But they come with a subtle cost — the pressure to capture everything, to hedge every shot with three variants at different exposures, to fix it in Lightroom.
Film forces you out of that loop. You have 24 or 36 frames. Each one costs money and takes time to develop. You can’t see the result until days or weeks later.
What this does to your eye is interesting. You slow down. You look longer before you raise the camera. You make a decision and commit to it.
The Wait
I sent a roll of Kodak Portra 400 to the lab six weeks ago. I’d almost forgotten what was on it by the time the scans arrived. Opening the folder felt like finding photographs I hadn’t taken.
Digital recall is perfect and immediate. Analogue recall is imperfect and delayed. I don’t think one is strictly better, but the delay creates a gap in which something interesting can happen: the image becomes a discovery rather than a confirmation.
What I Shoot
My main kit right now is an Olympus OM-1 with a 50mm f/1.4. For film, I rotate between Kodak Portra 400, Ilford HP5+ (shot at 1600), and Kodak Gold 200 for summer light.
If you’ve never shot film, start cheap: a point-and-shoot from a charity shop, a roll of HP5, and a local lab. Don’t expect it to be better than digital. Expect it to be different — and see if the difference is interesting to you.