Loaned film projectors reawaken celluloid dreams
Residents are running classic equipment at home, thanks to a Chicago Film Society program
Periodically, whenever the Chicago Film Society gets together and talks about the future, conversation winds back to the same existential concern: Does the general public even know what film is anymore? Do they understand how a projector operates?
They wonder sometimes. When your whole mission is rooted in the act of threading physical celluloid through the guts of clunky antiquated projectors, when your group was founded to promote the “unsimulated experience” of showing film stock to a room full of strangers, you are at the mercy of knowledge. A while ago, when a guy in Iowa offered them a bunch of old 16mm projectors that he had acquired from a school district there, they bought them, not entirely knowing what they would do with them — it seemed like the right thing to do.
You know, preservation-wise.
See, many decades ago, as legend has it, large reels of film moved clickety-clack through metal projectors. Chicago itself was a major supplier. The names of local companies that created projectors for homes and schools alone — Ampro, EXCEL, Bell & Howell, et al — would be familiar to anyone of a certain age who zoned out during social studies. But then home video arrived, and at multiplexes, digital projection became standard.
Last year, about six months into the pandemic, as it seemed clear that even digital projection was now losing ground to streaming, the Film Society felt restless: Never mind it couldn’t show movies to audiences, what about these projectors gathering dust? And what about their enormous collection of 16mm reels of feature films and shorts? Their answer: Here, take it. Or rather, sign up for a projector on their website, and for two weeks, at no cost, the Chicago
Film Society will loan you not only one of its good old Iowa projectors but a bunch of stuff to watch on it. They’ll also deliver it to your home and show you how to operate the thing. The program, Project Yourself!, has been so stealthily successful around Chicago that, sorry, but at the moment, there’s a two to three month waiting list.
“We saw it as a cool way to give the collection some exercise,” said Julian Antos, executive director of the Film Society. “We anticipated problems, equipment meltdowns. It turns out people can learn to work (a projector) today, they just need the projector.”
In exchange for the free loan (and perhaps, a donation to the nonprofit group), they only ask that you take a few notes on the condition of the films. Because, to some extent, their collection is so large — everything from “Star Wars” films to TV movies to silent classics to self-defense how-to’s to 1930s screwball comedies to Russian epics — the Film Society doesn’t entirely know the quality of every last reel themselves. Of those I spoke with who participated in the program, though, none expressed frustration. Just joy. Also, there is one more catch: You can tell them what kind of films you like, but ultimately they hand over a mystery assortment of shorts and features. Which, of course, is sort of fun.
That said, in this age of Netflix and streaming, who out there wants a 16mm projector? The following answers were edited and condensed from longer conversations.
Liz Siegel, associate curator of photography at the Art Institute of Chicago: “Julian came to our house and gave a tutorial right on the front porch. It’s a very low-tech projector, the kind a third grade teacher could use. We set up in our basement and it was a totally unique experience. You’re listening to the sound of the projector, you’re getting a flicker. It was very intimate. We got a movie with John Wayne and Marlene Dietrich (“Seven Sinners,” 1940), she island hops, causing all these fights among men. Campy but enjoyable. The other feature was ‘Theodora Goes Wild’ (1936) and it had a completely surprising feminist lead (Irene Dunne). We also got an educational short on reptiles. I’m analog. I like books as books. My music is digital, I stream movies. But this was about resonance, the way you’re transported to a time and place. It felt tangible.”
Mark Albert, a broadcast designer for TV stations: “About 30 years ago I found a 16mm film of my grandmother teaching school in central Indiana in the 1930s. It was like finding a time machine. So I’ve been into 16mm a while now. I still shoot my own home movies on 16mm. I have VHS tapes I can’t play anymore, digital is great for a lot of reasons, but for a historical record, a can of film is the way to go, I think. The films they gave us, some prints were iffy, there were dark areas in the images, but mostly it was great. I got a short from the 1950s called ‘Elements of Production’ made by Encyclopedia Britannica and all about the economy. We got a short called ‘Mickey’s Rescue’ — no Mickey Mouse, but you do get Mickey Rooney. We got a feature set in a concentration camp, and ‘Alexander’s Ragtime Band’ (1938) with a young Ethel Merman. You’re pushing the mystery button on a soda machine to see what pops out.”
Adria Passey, former salesperson: “My husband and I have been going to (Chicago Film Society) screenings for years, but then the pandemic killed off movies and I have a little experience with home projectors. You used to be able to check out 16mm films from libraries. So this was easy. We live in an old house in Albany Park and every wall has a window or door so we hung a white sheet across an archway for a screen. One of the things we got was a ‘60 Minutes’ from the 1970s. Morley Safer did a story on Marva Collins, this Chicago educator (who started the now-closed Westside Preparatory School in Garfield Park). Reagan asked her to be secretary of education and she refused. We also got a color short made by students about Maxwell Street, and this dangers-of-drugs movie with Jack Lord — did you know people who smoke weed are called ‘grasshoppers’? I guessed I liked the projector for the same reason I still listen to the radio — I don’t want to always be curating my own interests. When the pandemic started I thought I would miss restaurants but really, it’s the movies that I have missed.”
Joey Garfield, filmmaker: “I went to Columbia College for a minute, I went to film school and became a bonafide director (whose credits include a documentary on beatboxing, a music video for Run the Jewels and a TV commercial for the Dos Equis “Most Interesting Man in the World” campaign). I have done lighting, I have worked the sound boom, I learned how to splice together film in the old fashioned way. I have worked every job. So I felt it was my duty to know how to thread a projector in the dark. We invited neighbors over. My garage is a perfect square flat door so we set up chairs in the backyard. We got a Clark Gable film and a Soviet documentary about schools and (an episode of the ‘50s sitcom) ‘My Little Margie’ and news reels from the 1970s on like Apollo 13 and Vietnam. The biggest bummer was a ‘Wonder Woman’ with Lynda Carter. My kids lasted 10 minutes. You have to watch the whole thing with film. There’s no toggling ahead. It can get grueling. But it’s also what’s great about It. A projector feels kind of like a magic machine almost, a bottle you rub to see what genie pops out.”
Jay Schieber, professor of engineering, physics and math at Illinois Institute of Technology: “We built a fire and watched on the brick wall of my neighbor’s apartment building. My son is 10, he makes stop-motion and hand-drawn animated movies but everything he knows is digital. I told him about old technology. How film initially worked, how a projector was showing one picture frame at a time. He got into it. He would walk over and watch the shutter opening and closing. We got ‘The Gold Rush’ (Charlie Chaplin, 1925) and ‘The General’ (Buster Keaton, 1926). I want my son to understand this history. It helps to know how clever (filmmakers) were despite how large and clunky the equipment was. It’s like music, I suppose. You can listen to the history of recorded music now and no one does for more than a few minutes before moving on. There can be an investment in time, to watch, listen and appreciate. I want my son to know that.”