Fujifilm, I'm just not that into you

A while back, I spent a Saturday morning at Keller's Flea Market in Savannah, Georgia. Keller's is a cultural experience, to say the least, but there was just something about its unmatched charm that had me coming back for more. Every time I visited, I stopped by the booth containing 10 + overpriced Brownie cameras, random expired film and old flash bulbs, and thousands upon thousands of vinyls. Everything was covered in creepy, sticky dust of an unknown origin and my allergies were driving me so crazy you would have thought I had rubbed cat hair and pollen directly in my eyes. But this special day, I found a gem--- a Polaroid Automatic Land Camera 420 and I had to have it. And for $24 (after much bargaining) it was all mine. I was assured that it was a fully-functioning piece of photographic history and just needed cleaned and a fresh pack of film. Shortly thereafter, I found that this was not the case, as I tried everything I could to get this camera to expose something, anything. However, on the last piece of film, I managed to pull out a photo of yellow flowers and I was quite pleased. Nevermind that it looked like the film had burst into flames in the camera or that most of the image was missing. It didn't really matter, because Polaroid is magic.

I don't want Polaroid to come back because it is my photographic duty to fight for its cause. I want it to come back because I miss it terribly. I love it. I love how it smells. I love the sound it makes when you pull Type 669 through the rollers. I know what the rash looks like when you accidentally get the gel from the chemical packet on your hand. I could spend days sitting at the table with my Daylab. Days. I always thought of it as an extension of the careful, measured craft of the darkroom. It was like a secret game; you had to learn the rules and be extremely patient, but once you mastered this, the results were beautiful and mysterious and unique.

I have found that I tend to really like extinct things, namely dinosaurs and Polaroid. I guess I always want what I can't have. So, I decided that in order to get my fix (film, not dinosaurs), I had to buy pseudo-Polaroid: Fuji. I thought it would make me happy. And while I had the unopened package in my hand, it did. But as soon as I had set up everything to make a "Polaroid" transfer and exposed the first piece, I knew it was too good to be true. And it was, because it didn't work. At all.

Exhibit A:


Ugh.

Exhibit B:


What IS that? Anyway, needless to say, I'm deeply saddened that this film is not entirely comparable to Polaroid. It's disappointing that I can't make the Polaroid emulsion lifts and transfers as I had been hoping, but if you just use this film to take a picture, it's actually not too bad at all. I've tried the Fujifilm Instant FP-100C (color) and FP-100B (black and white) in both 3.25 x 4.25 in. and 4 x 5 in. sizes and the tonal range, contrast, and color is pretty great.






I also finally experienced for myself what happens when it's too cold for instant film to develop properly.



Or when you put film on a frozen glass table while developing.


I think my unconditional attachment to Polaroid somewhat hinders my ability to give this Fujifilm the credit it deserves. And while I appreciate that there is still an alternative on the market, it goes without saying that I am anxiously awaiting Polaroid's much-anticipated return sometime next year.