After nearly two decades with a Canon A-1 SLR, I decided to take photography
seriously about five years ago. At the time, I took a class in large format
photography, spent hours in a darkroom, bought a Hasselblad 501CM (see
review), and
joined a well-regarded group exhibit which included about fifteen of my images. I
traveled to Japan with the Hasselblad, and returned with a lot of good material.
As a convenience, I brought along a Leica Minilux, and that’s where this
story begins.
My Minilux broke. Apparently, the problem is a common one: a “EO2”
error having something to do with the electronic shutter.
Rather than getting it fixed immediately ($150 with no assurance that it would
not happen again), I bought a Sony 5-megapixel digital camera, my first digital
camera. Six weeks ago, I brought the Hasselblad and the Sony to China. My results
were disappointing. The Hasselblad proved to be ill suited to shooting elderly
people exercising in the park, and cumbersome when climbing the Great Wall; the
Sony produced well-exposed snapshots with good clarity but no texture.
I started shopping. Dismayed by endless digital cameras made of disposable
plastic and 583 automatic features that I would never bother to learn and never
actually recall while taking pictures, I wondered whether I ought to fix my
Minilux or find a used Leica (I’ve never bought a used camera, so this was
a scary proposition).
Seeking a camera that was rugged, simple, free of fancy features--I was in
search of a tool to make pictures with a minimum of fuss, a tool that would last
for years. With several minor misgivings, I think that camera is the Leica
MP.
The Body and The Lens
When I pick up the body and an f/1.4 Summilux lens, it feels heavier than
expected, solid, a piece of machinery, not a toy, something built to endure. In
fact, the combination of camera and lens weigh two pounds--a few ounces lighter
than my old Canon AT-1 and its f/1.2 lens.
On the back, there’s a dial to set the ISO. It looks like it would be
easy to accidentally reset, but it’s sturdy and hasn’t budged. The
back also contains the viewfinder peephole in its odd but generations-old extreme
left position, and the top of the door that will open to load the film.
On the front, there’s a funny little battery chamber (for the meter;
everything else works mechanically, without the need for the battery), a button
to release the lens, the front of the viewfinder and rangefinder mechanism, the
shifter to see alternative framing lines, and the rewind lock. This is a very,
very simple camera design. I taught my 17-year old son--not a photographer by any
means--to hold the camera, set exposure, focus and shoot in under two
minutes.
On the top of the MP, there’s a hot shoe, a frame counter beneath a
little magnifying bubble, a shift lever to advance the film, the shutter with its
required hole for a cable release, an inscribed Leica logo (which looks kind of
cool), and two odd little controls. The first is a small rewind knob surrounding
a core with two red dots on it (if the red dots move with each frame advance,
then the film is flowing properly; my first roll did not). This older-style knob
requires more turns than a modern rewinder, but it’s really not much of a
bother.
Two Leica accessories are available for those who require faster film
rewinding: a replacement for the bottom plate of the camera with a strange
dagger-like device, or a crank that attaches to the little rewind knob. I think
the little rewind knob is fine as it is, a bit more attractive than the larger
diagonal knob found on other modern Leica cameras, but this is purely a personal
choice.
The other top control is the shutter speed dial (containing the off switch).
Apparently, the small size and operation of this dial is a throwback to older
Leicas. Since I’m using the camera as a tool and not as the high-tech
equivalent of a Beanie Baby, I would have preferred that (a) the dial was as
large as the one now found on the M6TTL and M7 cameras, and (b) that the dial
turned in the proper direction. More on this direction business below.
Looking through the viewfinder, it’s easy to see the 50mm frameline, and
easy (with practice) to focus. The unfortunate rangefinder glare associated with
the M6TTL is gone, but the clouded rangefinder patch does become a
less-than-transparent reddish color from time to time, so the camera must be
sometimes be moved in order to focus. This is unacceptable for a finely made
instrument, and should be corrected by Leica.
On the bottom of the viewfinder display, a small, illuminated red circle
appears when the f/stop, shutter speed and exposure value (as read by the
internal meter) are in sync. If there’s not enough light, a small
right-pointing arrow appears, and remains until the f/stop dial on the lens is
turned to the right and finds the correct f/stop for that exposure (and shutter
speed). If there’s too much light, then the arrow points left, and the
f/stop dial on the lens is turned to the left. It’s a very simple, highly
intuitive system.
Unfortunately, the old-style shutter speed dial must be turned in the opposite
direction. To allow more light (to select a slower shutter speed), the shutter
speed dial is turned to left. The counterintuitive nature of this backward design
can be overcome with practice, but the size of the dial often requires the camera
to be moved down from the eye in order to be reset.
Generally, it’s best to first set the shutter speed dial, then bring the
camera up to the eye to adjust the f/stop. In fact, this is good practice, but I
often found myself moving the camera back down to double-check both shutter speed
and f/stop (in time, you learn to start at one f/stop and count the clicks to the
next, thus eliminating the need for a visual check). It would be nice if the
camera displayed shutter speed and f/stop in the viewfinder, but experience and
close attention eventually eliminate the need for this information.
As with other Leica M series cameras, film loading requires the removal of the
bottom of the camera body, and the lifting of the back door. At first, this seems
to be an impossibly cumbersome endeavor (it’s certainly old-fashioned).
Having become accustomed to loading roll film into my Hasselblad magazines, I
welcomed the modernity of 35mm film preloaded into a metal canister. For those
shifting from a more modern camera design, Leica’s approach takes a bit of
getting-used-to. (I’m terrified of losing the bottom plate, or dropping it
in sand or mud!) With some practice, and a few errors resulting in the film not
moving through the camera at all, I am finding my comfort level.
The bottom of the camera also contains a hole for the tripod. Note that when
the Leica MP sits on a tripod, the body is not centered. The hole is on one side
of the camera. Be careful; it’s a bit awkward.
On to the lens. The lens snaps securely onto the camera body. It’s
solid, beautifully built, entirely unlike most modern lenses because it’s
made of metal, not plastic. M-series lenses are also smaller than the lenses used
on manual SLRs, and much smaller than lenses used on automatic SLRs and full-size
digital cameras. Like many Leica lenses, the f/1.4 comes with a built-in lens
shade, which I used regularly because it often improved contrast and reduced the
effects of stray light. I worry about the safety of such an expensive lens, but I
have not been using a filter for protection.
Opening the back of the camera, there’s access to the film chamber, and
a view of the back of the shutter curtain. If you press the shutter release, you
can see the shutter in action. It’s made of cloth, but the astonishing part
of this particular shutter is not only its construction, but the sound it makes.
This is one of the quietest shutters I’ve ever heard--it makes a little
click, barely audible if there’s any other sound in the room. For some
stealth photographers, this will be a major selling point. I think it’s
kinda cool, but hardly the reason to buy a new camera.
So, to wrap up this part of the review, it would be fair to say that the Leica
MP is extraordinarily well built, generally very well designed (with several
peculiarities), and very, very easy to use. Let’s take some pictures.
The Pictures
I went out to a national historic site loaded with Revolutionary War era
buildings near a river and bridge. I selected the site because the light is often
pretty; because the stone construction of the buildings offered plenty of
interesting contrasty edges; because the ground would be soft and I was very
concerned about accidentally dropping an expensive camera on concrete. This
concern was magnified because I was shooting with four different cameras,
constantly shuttling them on and off the tripod.
I shot only B/W for this test. With just about every image, the results were
consistent.
The five megapixel Sony digital camera ($300, DSC-W5) produced images that
were properly exposed, but lifeless. The camera (with a Zeiss lens) offered a
generalized sort of accuracy, but it did a poor job in rendering contrast
relationships and textures.
My old manual Canon AT-1 with its 50mm FD lens functioned very much like the
Leica MP--manual everything, no special features. Images were properly exposed
(thanks to a match-needle meter), and often, the contrast was right. The focus,
however, was soft, due in part to the lens’s own limitations and partly to
their age.
Of course, the Hasselblad images were impressive, especially rich in texture,
but there were not nearly as sharp or as contrasty as the Leica images. When a
picture was “right” for the Hasselblad, the result had stature, and
recommended itself for enlargement.
I was most impressed by the images I shot with the Leica MP. As I’ve
learned from painting (a not-so-separate hobby), it’s contrast that often
makes a picture snap: the way the darkest and the lightest areas are rendered. In
image after image, the Leica’s ability to render the darker areas with
precision and grace and texture, and the Leica’s ability to keep the
details in the lighter areas and to register them in shades of the lightest grey
made all the difference. When I compared images of a centuries-old home built
entirely of local stone, the edges of the stone were extraordinarily clear and
tight. The Hasselblad won on the textures, but the clarity of the Leica images
caused every casual onlooker to select the Leica images as the best of the
lot.
Just for fun, I asked my lab to scan the negatives so I could compare them in
Photoshop. I tried not to manipulate the images beyond sizing, but the process
proved challenging. I then optimized contrast and other levels for each image.
For what they’re worth, the enlarged results are posted here. Have a look,
and I’ll tell you which is which (Leica, Canon, Sony, Hasselblad) at the
end of the review.
Although I have shot color with this lens before, I have not shot color with
this particular camera. When I do, I may add some comments later on. Previous
results were rendered with accuracy that exceeded the best I could achieve with
other cameras, mostly due to modest gradations of color detail that were lost
with non-Leica lenses.
The Summary
Having now compared this camera with a lot of others that I’ve found on
store shelves, having used this camera for weeks, I can honestly say that the
Leica MP is the finest mechanical 35mm camera on the market today--and quite
likely, one of the finest mechanical cameras ever made. The first of these
statements is easy: there isn’t a lot of competition. The second means
more: Leica has always been in the senior league of fine photographic equipment
makers, and the company has obviously set out to make a significant, perhaps
final, statement with this particular piece of equipment.
That word--final--sticks in the throat. The fact is, fewer and fewer people
are buying 35mm cameras. Leica Camera has been struggling. Rangefinder cameras
are undergoing a resurgence, but the consumer base for 35mm rangefinder cameras
is limited. The MP requires a significant investment: the body costs $3,295, and
the f/1.8 that I use costs $2,600. Use the f/2 ($1,395) instead, and the entire
package costs $4,690. You could argue that Leica cameras and lenses retain their
value. I could argue that my objective here is buying a camera to use as a
long-term tool, and while 35mm won’t disappear in the next five years,
it’s not a format whose future will be counted in many decades. As a tool,
this is one remarkable piece of equipment, the very pinnacle of camera design and
manufacturing (apart from the goofy wrong-way shutter speed dial). As an
investment, I’m certain that those who collect Leica cameras will keep this
product alive for decades.
For those who are considering the purchase of a late-model Leica, the $3,295
price tag may lead to the used market, where a Leica M6TTL, with many of the same
features, with very good build quality, with a slightly louder shutter (and a
right-way shutter dial) can be purchased, in near mint condition, for half the
price of a new MP (that’s a savings of $1,600, enough to buy a second M6TTL
body or a new or mint Leica lens). The M6TTL’s tendency toward rangefinder
flare under certain bright lighting conditions can now be repaired by Leica for
about $250.
The pleasure of using a Leica M series camera is real; as with my Hasselblad,
the Leica MP encourages me to take better pictures. I love being able to see just
beyond the framelines in the viewfinder, I love the accurate metering and the
wonderful contrast, the fine detail, the beautiful shading, the out-of-focus
bokeh, the special quality that my best Leica images possess. And then, I reflect
on the $150 it would cost me to repair my Leica Minilux, which provides about
half the pleasure and about three-quarters of the image quality. If I’m
careful, the Leica MP will last for decades and I’ll use it until I
can’t easily see through the viewfinder.
I’ll be sure to re-read these notes (and your comments) before embarking
on my next photographic expedition to Japan, or China, or some other far away
place. I suspect I’ll bring along the Hasselblad, but I probably
won’t bring along the Sony digital. Instead, when I want to capture the
moment, I think I know which camera I’ll have in my hands.
By the way: I was so impressed with this particular all-mechanical Leica, and
so taken with the legacy, that I may write a new book “starring” this
camera. The story of a creative tool that has been gradually perfected over five
decades, and upon the point of perfection, may be swamped by the digital
technology it so fervently eschews, is the making of a good story, and not just
for photographers.
The images in my alarmingly non-scientific, just-for-fun test were Canon (top
left), Sony (bottom left; note loss of detail), Hasselblad (top right; note nice
textures); and Leica (bottom right; note good contrast, but also impact of
magnification on texture).
Where to Buy the Leica MP
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Text and photos copyright
Howard
Blumenthal
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