by Andre Silva

A lone candle raises, as if to toast the darkness. Awakened by the glow, a gently clattering projector radiates a dusty beam of light. In the old days, when Super 8 screenings were still held at the Ritz, the candle-bearing sound-tech signaled to the projectionist that the next soundtrack was cued up, a ritual which offered a less obtrusive option to yelling, "Yo, sounds good! Roll 'em!" across terraces of lounge seats, ashtrays and neglected glasses of beer.

Such a passionate display of readiness was not out of place in this theater-in-the-rough setting, where films, although some dark or out of focus, all possessed a cutting edge spirit and garnered a depth of audience attention and interaction uncommon in most movie theaters today. Because many of the Super 8 filmmakers, as well as their friends and families who packed the theater, understood the proportionately large challenge that producing a film on this tiny medium posed, the charged ambient was expected.

Of the countless anachronisms in the hyper-technological 21st century, Super 8 filmmaking is certain to make the top 10, though this practice of crafting films the old-fashioned way is far from extinction.

First of all, what the heck is Super 8? More than just a motel chain, this miniature movie film and grandfather medium of the ubiquitous camcorder is the grainy stuff that 70's home movies are made of. Introduced in 1965 by Kodak, Super 8 film was neatly packaged in near bulletproof, ready-to-load plastic cartridges, which saved the amateur filmmaker the trouble of having to un-spool film and thread it through the camera (as was the custom with the earlier amateur format, regular 8mm). Furthermore, like vampires, film never really takes well to excess light and since Super 8 was encased in a black, light tight cartridge, a minimum of film was exposed, during loading and unloading.

So, if Super 8 is so groovy, what happened to it? Remember the slightly scratched up moving pictures of a family on vacation and the "dialogue" in those old home movies, which was relegated to the realm of sign language (since most Super 8 film was silent)? Well, in the 80's, that grainy family bought a camcorder and seemed to evolve into creatures with vocal chords and smoother complexions. As for the family's Super 8 camera, it evolved into a reclusive attic tenant, who slept under ever thickening blankets of cobwebs, or became an inhabitant of pawn shops (the half-way houses of small-gauge film equipment).

And who wouldn't shelve this super sideshow at garage sales in favor of instant playback and not having to mail cartridges off to the lab? The limitations of the medium were many. Super 8 cartridges were only 3 1/2 minutes long: so before you could get the kids to do anything cute, the dang cartridge had run out of film and there went your stinkin' 12 bucks. Yeesh! And then, after the film had finally arrived back from the lab, you'd coax the head of the filmstrip through the cogs of a cranky projector and attempt to enjoy the fruits of your labor while about 25 tiny dust hairs would wiggle in the film gate and project on the screen like a chorus line of uncoordinated twigs.

Despite the apparent inconveniences of the miniature medium, Super 8 continues to cast a spell over audiences in the post Y2K era. Perhaps it is the organic, vibrating nature of film grain, the brilliant color saturation or the gift Super 8 has of transporting viewers back to that proverbial "simpler time." While video cameras capture hours worth of daily life footage, most of which will be fast forwarded or neglected altogether, at some later date, Super 8 forces the filmmaker to condense the same hours of daily life into just three minutes. Thus, the filmmaker shares with the audience those few moments that he or she felt were most important.

There are several organizations throughout the U.S. -- and at least two in Austin -- which keep the spirit of Super 8 alive. Flicker Austin invites local filmmakers to submit a 15-minute-or-less film shot on any medium, including Super 8, for one of its screenings. During each screening, an audience member is randomly chosen to draw an idea out of a hat and manifest that idea onto a roll of Super 8 film provided by Flicker for the next Flicker festival. Flicker also awards one $100 film grant at each screening, which incidentally, can pay for enough film stock and processing for an eleven minute Super 8 film. One particularly positive aspect about Flicker Austin is that, because it is linked with other Flickers throughout the U.S. as well as a Flicker in France, it freely trades ideas and locally produces short films with its brothers and sisters. Thus, Austin filmmakers have an opportunity to tour their short films throughout the U.S. and reach a collectively much larger audience. In addition, the Austin Cinemaker Co-op, one of the staunchest champions of this celluloid linguini with sprocket holes, hosts four Super 8 mini-festivals each year and is open to anyone with an idea. No film? No camera? No earthly idea of where to find the "on" switch, even if you do have a camera? No worries. Cinemaker rents Super 8 cameras, sells film and offers workshops on the basics of Super 8, animation, lighting and film painting. Aspiring filmmakers have everything they need to make their very own short film for one of Cinemaker's festivals.

Each of Cinemaker's quarterly festivals has a distinct theme, but perhaps the most popular is the MAFIA ("Make a Film in a Weekend") festival, which visits Austin each spring. The festival carries somewhat of a running-of-the-bulls urgency to it when, on the eve of this predetermined weekend, 50 or more Mafians show up at Cinemaker's doorstep to pick up a mystery prop for their film. The mystery prop is often chosen by one of Cinemaker's board members and revealed the night MAFIA begins. Cinemaker provides one prop per filmmaker, and all filmmakers have identical props. This prop can be a plastic honey bear, a child's alphabet block or a flyswatter. With prop in hand, the small-gauge artist must create a film, using the prop somewhere in it. And then comes the hard part: filmmakers have only 48 hours to create a completely in-camera edited film which they will not see until the night of the screening.

By Sunday evening, the weary cine-warriors trudge back into the Cinemaker office with one or more cartridges of exposed film. And during the following week when Cinemaker assumes the daunting task of sending these 50 or more films off to the lab, filmmakers must create soundtracks for their films, which can be a little difficult when they can't actually see the films. Then, two weeks after the madness began, a small, darkened theater packed with nervous excitement and rustling programs glows with films that have never been seen before.

This sort of screening epitomizes the spirit of Super 8. Unlike erasable video, Super 8 doesn't forget. So once the image and unexposed film meet, never the twain shall part. Festivals like MAFIA are as much documentaries of Super 8 filmmaking as they are celebrations of diverse filmmaking styles. There is no guarantee that the Super 8 lottery will bestow a winning image upon the cinematographer. Super 8 cameras have always possessed a blunt nature and have no reservations about disclosing what the filmmaker could have done differently to achieve a more perfect shot. To the audience, however, these imperfections become testaments to the creator's struggle and allow viewers a glimpse into the process. But, as creatures of pride, humans prefer that others of their species respect the quality of their work rather than gain too much of a glimpse into the process. Thus, having to mail film to the lab and wait a week or longer before seeing the results becomes a ritual of suspense. For many small-gauge artists, there are several Christmases throughout the year and the postal delivery worker assumes the role of Santa Claus: "Will he bring me a present or a lump of coal?"

Let's suppose that Postal Claus does bring a lump of coal. "Everything's out of focus! It's ugly! I hate it! I wish I'd never picked up a stupid Super 8 camera." If the filmmaker finds him or herself saying these words, then he or she has the perfect opportunity to practice film manipulation through techniques such as bleaching, scratching and/or painting the filmstrip. Projected, the result of this camera-less filmmaking vibrates with colorful images, which pop and sizzle on screen as if cooking in a giant frying pan. Many Super 8 filmmakers utilize this opportunity to directly manipulate the filmstrip. Some add a few subtle scratches to enhance the already existing images, while others bleach, paint and/or sand the entire strip.

Legend has it that one filmmaker aluminum-foiled her film and submerged it into a mixture of condiments and cleaning products. She then let the film hibernate for two weeks before cleaning the excess residue off and projecting the creation. To the dismay of the disgruntled projectionist, remnants of the stinky mixture "cooked" every time the film passed in front of the hot projector bulb.

There are filmmaking methods besides direct film manipulation that enhance the organic properties of Super 8. For example, some filmmakers choose to hand process their films rather than sending them to the lab. This primitive process often involves hammering open the cartridge in a darkened closet and blindly stuffing all 50ft of Super 8 in a silver developing tank, no bigger than your average coffee mug. Five hours later, after pouring photo chemicals into and out of the tank, the gloved filmmaker births a film that has been freshly washed in a storm of randomness. Tiny scratches and fibers freckle the filmed images, while sections of film that stuck together during the developing process appear as negative.

Super 8 filmmaking techniques such as direct film manipulation and hand processing magnify the organic nature of the medium. This organic nature, inherent in the tiny particles that make up the film image, provides a unique alternative to digital media. Just ask any Super 8 enthusiast what he or she finds appealing about the Super 8 format and "film grain" will most like most likely enter into the response. Like snowflakes, no two grains of film are identical in shape or size. And, because a Super 8 image must be magnified roughly 16 times the size of studio films to fit on a same-sized screen, the randomness of millions of dancing film grains becomes a more apparent part of the overall composition. Though digital video offers nice color saturation, impressive resolution and more easily accessible effects, pixels, the cells of the digital image, possess a sort of monotonous uniformity. Thus, in comparison to larger film formats, Super 8 remains relatively inexpensive and accommodates experimentation and impulsive filmmaking. While this tiny medium may not be capable of showcasing flashy effects in all of their technological glory and won't yield instant gratification, it will always possess a certain vitality not present in the electronic media.