A couple years ago, I was out shooting on the streets with a late–1940’s model Leica III. As often happens, a stranger approached me, pointed at my camera and struck up a conversation. Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, the dialogue follows a predictable path: I’m asked if film is still being made; why I’m shooting it; and where one goes to get it developed. But this was not one of those ninety-nine times.
Instead of initiating the expected discussion about the availability and merits of film, the gentleman’s first question was “can you still find batteries for that thing?”
I replied that the camera didn’t require batteries, to which he responded, “then how can it possibly work?”
I told him it was all mechanical.
In a condescending manner, thinly disguised as stoic mentoring, the man informed me that I must not know very much about cameras, because some sort of power source would obviously be needed to operate the shutter.
“A spring and some timing gears,” I responded.
The man tightened his lips into a scornful smirk, shook his head in pity at my manifest ignorance, and walked away.
What made this encounter all the more curious is that my would-be tutor wasn’t all that young — mid–30’s, I’d guess. Generationally speaking, he was certainly old enough to have had either first- or second-hand experience with film cameras. But then, he didn’t ask me about film — he asked about batteries. I tend to think that only digital cameras are products of the consumer electronics industry, but in reality cameras became electronic devices long before the pixel pushed aside the silver halide crystal. Batteries have been juicing camera bodies since auto-focusing replaced the split image; since built-in metering and exposure-priority modes supplanted the Sunny–16 rule; and since automatic film advance superseded a precisely crafted assortment of ratcheted levers.
So, attitude aside, I can’t really fault the poor fellow for failing to know the finer points of camera history. He’s the one living in the here and now, while I’m the one carrying a mid–20th century mechanical film camera in the 21st century.
The Givethness and Takethness of Technology
Photography is and always has been a technologically driven medium. In order to stand out from the pack, photographers must create something different than what their peers create. Technology — with its promise of freshly contemporary images and a more effortless way to achieve them — provides the path of least resistance. The irony, of course, is that the majority of photographers attempt to differentiate themselves by pursuing the same technological advances, thus ending up right back where they started — creating work that’s indistinguishable from the pack. And so technology cranks the wheel again… and again… and again.
Similarly plagued, but with an entirely different illness, are those photographers with creative aspirations that come from within, rather than as a byproduct of modern technology. I’m one of those guys — in fact, each major advance in camera technology seems to widen the gap between how a camera operates and how I actually need it to operate. To a photographer on the technological treadmill, this might sound like nirvana: no more straddling the bleeding edge; no more learning and re-learning and re-re-learning the latest techniques; no more fistfuls of money thrown at the next big trend, only to see it fade into the inevitable cliché.
But such nirvana is merely an illusion, because gear is always going to be part and parcel of the image making process. So, while it’s true that photographers such as myself aren’t slaves to modern gear cycles, we are slaves to particular types of gear — specifically, we’re slaves to the types of gear best-suited to the work we’re trying to produce. And more often than not, because the photos we hope to create aren’t trendy, the gear we need is no longer being manufactured.
Which all helps explain why my 21st century condo has a cabinet stocked mostly with mid–20th century mechanical film cameras. It’s because no other class of camera has ever satisfied my photographic tendencies, aesthetics and desires nearly as perfectly as the 35mm mechanical rangefinder.
The Leica Lineage
My favorite camera is my 1958 Leica M2. Ergonomically, it’s nearly perfect and is a model of utter simplicity. There are no modes. No menus. Nothing to set, configure or interpret. It’s simply a light-tight box that fits comfortably in hand, holds the film flat, and allows me to mount some of the best (and smallest) optics ever created. Of all the cameras I’ve ever used, it provides the lowest barrier between seeing a photographic opportunity and photographing that opportunity — a rather important consideration given my preferred subject matter: the fleeting and the ephemeral. It’s also built like the proverbial tank — something that’s becoming increasingly more important now that the camera is entering its 57th year on this earth.
The camera for which I’ve long-lusted, but have yet to own, is the Leica M4. It was released in 1967, and replaced both the M3 and M2. Leica retired the M4 in 1972, but brought it back briefly in 1975 to help restore some financial stability after the M5 debacle. So what is it that makes me yearn for an M4 when I already own a perfectly good M2? Simple: it’s younger. When your photographic leanings are as anachronistic as mine, you start to worry a bit about the age of your gear. Although the M4 does offer a handful of improvements over the M2, most have no direct effect on its ability to “get the shot.” The sole exception would be the self-resetting film counter, which the M2 lacked. Technically, if I were smart enough to remember to manually set the M2’s film counter to “1” each time I loaded a roll of film, then I wouldn’t need a self-resetting film counter. But since I’m not that smart, I often find myself in the middle of a shooting opportunity without any clue of how many shots remain.
So if my M4 desires are primarily age-driven, why not lust all the more vigorously for an M5, M6, M7 or MP? Why not the M4–2 or the M4-P? After all, these are all 35mm rangefinder film cameras, and they’re all newer than the original M4 (save for some M5’s, of course).
The answer is subtle, but equally simple: I haven’t salivated over these other cameras because I consider them to be cousins, rather than direct descendants of the M3>M2>M4 bloodline. These cameras are all products of the industry’s inevitable technological evolution — each subsequent model adding electronic features I neither need nor want, while simultaneously cheapening internal components and compromising build quality. Don’t get me wrong — they’re still mighty fine cameras. In fact, I actually own an M6TTL, and while it succumbs to the inclusion of a built-in light meter, its exposure setting remains 100% manual and its shutter 100% mechanical. I had Leica replace its most egregiously cheapened component (the rangefinder itself) with the improved, flare-resistant version from the later-model MP. So with the battery compartment left empty and a bit of major surgery, I’m able to coerce some “old school” usefulness out of a camera that’s quite a bit younger. But it’s still a product of the 20th century, and it’s still not as pure of purpose as the original M3>M2>M4 line.
I assumed this would forever be my fate: seek out old Leica mechanical film cameras, buy them, and ship them off to qualified camera technicians until the last living craftsman sheds his mortal coil, leaving behind no earthly soul to clean, lubricate, calibrate, repair or modify them. It’s not like I have other options — my tools of choice are the tools of an earlier generation. The world keeps spinning, technology keeps evolving, and time ticks forward — day by day, week by week, year by year. Nothing can change this…
… or can it? Einstein theorized that time is not an absolute quantity but is instead a malleable variable within the larger concept of spacetime. But this is only a mathematical theory, not a law. No one’s physically proven it…
… or have they?
In late 2014, Leica released a new camera — a film camera. A fully mechanical, fully manual, meterless, batteryless slab of solid metal and brass, the Leica M-A. It is, without a doubt, the true and rightful heir to the M throne — the direct descendent of a royal bloodline that began with the Leica II in 1932, and ended in 1975 with the discontinuation of the Leica M4. What followed was an ascension of contenders and pretenders — each excellent in its own way but, as I stated previously, each only tangentially related to the original bloodline. But the M-A is a direct descendent — the camera that should have inherited the M4’s throne back in 1975, but didn’t…
So how is it possible that, in 2014, Leica has managed to release the true and logical replacement for the M4 when it’s already released a dozen different M model cameras in the interim?
Simple: Leica has folded time.
Their stunning achievement left me with an odd combination of feelings: gratitude; disbelief; depression. Gratitude because I now know there’s a brand new camera on the market that’s actually an ideal fit for my photographic proclivities. Disbelief because, let’s face it — did anyone actually think a major camera company would release a professionally spec’d, fully mechanical, fully manual film camera in 2014? Depression because, like everything Leica makes, the M-A is priced significantly out of my comfort zone.
The Leica M-A: Four Steps Forward, One Step Back, a Huge Leap Sideways, and the Road to Perfection
Considering my assertion that the M-A is the successor to the M4, it makes the most sense to “review” the camera within that context. What has Leica improved? What have they messed up? What hasn’t changed? What needs to change?
Let’s start with a list of tangible improvements over the M4:
• The addition of 28mm and 75mm framelines
While the previous-model M4 offered only 35, 50, 90 and 135mm framelines, the M-A foreshadows the “future” model M6 through these two additions — proof that Leica has been folding time for quite awhile now.
Although my use of the 75mm focal length is spotty at best, 28mm is my “go to” focal length — so it’s quite useful to have these framelines included with the camera and not have to guess framing (or use an external viewfinder).
• The return of the 1-piece film advance lever
I know this will sound ridiculous, but I always thought the film advance lever on the M3 and M2 was a mechanical marvel — not because of its complexity, mind you, but because of its simplicity — a single, perfectly balanced, perfectly shaped, perfectly ergonomic lever that practically begged you to flick it and ready yourself for another shot.
Leica introduced a redesigned 2-piece hinged lever with the M4 — a design they carried forward though the M5, M6 and M7 lines, before finally reverting to the 1-piece lever with the MP. I never really cared for the 2-piece lever. It was slightly less ergonomic and slightly slower to operate — seemingly insignificant should one be photographing static subjects, but rather important should one need to fire off a quick succession of shots with split-second accuracy. Needless to say, I’m quite happy that the M4’s successor has reimplemented the 1-piece film advance lever.
• It comes in black
This is another one of those subtleties (like the film advance lever) that might not seem all that important to many, but is very important to me. Although I think chrome cameras are far more beautiful and definitely look nicer sitting on a shelf, black cameras draw far less attention in public — and since I’m the sort of photographer that works in public and tries to draw the least amount of attention to himself as possible, flat-black cameras are an essential part of my process.
Yes, Leica did make a smattering of black M3, M2 and M4 cameras back in the day, but the vast majority were chrome. The rarity of the black variant makes them particularly attractive to collectors, and thus exorbitantly expensive. This means, prior to the introduction of the M-A, I was stuck either using a chrome body or paying to have it painted (which is exactly what I did with my Leica IIIc). By offering customers the choice of ordering their M-A in “display quality” chrome or “street quality” black, Leica has improved the bloodline that much further.
• Removal of the residual flash bulb synchronization contact
This improvement is quite minor indeed — even for me! But with flashbulbs no longer really needed or available, it makes little sense to include a bulb-sync terminal on the M-A. One less hole in the camera; one less snap-on cover to lose; one less thing to poke you in the eye.
I would suggest that the Leica M-A’s one and only backward step is the return of the rewind knob. Prior to the M4, and dating all the way back to the Leica II/III days, Leica cameras employed knurled knobs to rewind the film. With the M4, Leica replaced that torturously slow finger-grater with an angled, folding rewind crank. This made changing film much quicker and significantly less painful. Besides, I quite liked the way it jauntily angled into the top plate — giving the tried-and-true M-shape a bit of understated flair. I have no idea why Leica decided to return to the flat, knurled knob design of the older model cameras. Perhaps its less expensive? More durable? I’m not sure. Fortunately, I use my Leica IIIc, IIIf and M2 frequently enough that I already have a protective layer of calluses on my thumb and forefinger.
Of course, as close as this bloodline comes to being the “perfect” tool for my needs, it’s only natural that I’d like to see at least a couple of improvements to the M-A’s successor (should Leica see fit to fold time once again). Specifically:
• A shutter lock
My shooting technique requires use of a soft-release button, which threads into the camera’s shutter release socket. Using a soft-release further decreases the amount of time between deciding to take a photo and actually taking it. Sure, it’s a time measured in milliseconds — but for my work, milliseconds matter. Also, because I don’t release the shutter with my fingertip, but with the Distal Interphalangeal Joint (thank you, Google), I’m able to hold the camera steady at much slower shutter speeds.
Not surprisingly, the soft-release’s main problem is the same as its main benefit: tripping the shutter is ridiculously easy, which means accidentally tripping the shutter is also ridiculously easy. Camera bags are the natural enemy of the soft-release button. Statistics show that 73% of the time you place a cocked camera in a bag, you will accidentally take a photo of the inside of that bag.
The most obvious solution would be to simply not advance the film (and thus not cock the shutter) immediately after taking a photo. But that’s a learned behaviour that’s long-ingrained into my photographic process. To unlearn such behaviour would take the rest of my life. And even if I were to unlearn it, I’d have a subsequent problem: every time I’d try to take a shot, I’d forget that I hadn’t previously transported the film or cocked the shutter. So this is simply not a workable solution for me.
The second-most obvious solution is to simply not put the camera in a bag. And while this is, indeed, a solution that I sometimes employ, I should mention that I live in Vancouver BC, which is located smack in the middle of the largest temperate rainforest on earth. Bags are sometimes rather necessary to transport cameras from point A to point B.
The third-most obvious solution is to simply unthread the soft-release button every time I put the camera in a bag. This, too, is a solution I sometimes employ, but it’s fraught with its own set of problems: namely, the combination of tiny soft-release buttons and big clumsy fingers (particularly when in the presence of sewer grates) causes the premature demise of said buttons.
So this is why I want every Leica camera to have a shutter lock. Lock the shutter, and I have no photos of the inside of my camera bag; I have no wet camera; and I’m no longer donating soft-release buttons to the Vancouver Public Works department.
• On-camera diopter adjustment
OK, I know. I’ve gone on and on about how old camera technology is better-suited to my particular style than new technology, but there comes a point when you gotta say “enough is enough.” Since the dawn of time, the only way to adjust the diopter setting for a Leica rangefinder has been to purchase an overpriced, screw-on diopter attachment of fixed value. I’m sure this is a nice little revenue stream for Leica, but come on — throw us blind guys a bone here.
Heading up the “doesn’t really matter” category of M-A features is Leica’s decision to retain the Rapid Load mechanism, which first appeared on the M4, and which replaced the old 2-spool method employed by the M2 and its parents. Though I would never have expected Leica to return to the oft-disliked 2-spool loading method, I must admit that I prefer it to the Rapid Load, which I find to be a bit more finicky. I suspect I’m in the minority here, and since the Rapid Load doesn’t affect the camera’s picture taking prowess, I’m perfectly fine with Leica’s decision to satisfy the majority of its customers rather than a few of its more peculiar ones.
Also in the “doesn’t really matter” category (at least for me) is the fact that the M-A’s shutter speed dial returns to the smaller, clockwise-increases-speed orientation of the original lineage. Leica increased the diameter of this dial substantially when the M5 was released — an ergonomic decision that makes it much quicker to change shutter speeds than with the smaller dial used by the M3, M2 and M4. Leica again changed the dial size when they released the M6 — making it smaller than the one on the M5, but still larger and more ergonomic than those on the earlier M’s. Beginning with the M6TTL, Leica inexplicably reversed the direction of the dial, such that a counter-clockwise rotation would set faster speeds. They continued with this larger, reverse-rotating dial with the M7, and on into the digital M8, M9 and current M (240) models. At this point, I own two cameras that use the large, counter-clockwise dial (M6TTL and M9) and three cameras that use the small, clockwise dial (M2, IIIc and IIIf), so it really didn’t matter which methodology the M-A employed. All that mattered was that if the dial were indeed small, then it would rotate the same direction as the old cameras. And if the knob were large, then it would rotate in the direction of the newer cameras. I’ve trained my muscle memory to recognize dial size as the indicator of which way to turn it. I have no idea what original-model M6 owners do, since those cameras have large dials that turn in the direction of small-dial cameras. I suspect Leica went back to the original small, clockwise-to-quicken dial because this would make the new M-A compatible with all the old shoe-mounted exposure meters that some folks like to mount on top.
Everything else about the M-A is exactly what I would have hoped: The one-piece, full-metal body with solid brass top deck and baseplate insures this camera will truly last for the rest of my life. The rangefinder is clear, bright and precise as only a newborn Leica’s can be. And that classic, rubberized-cloth focal plain shutter, which remains mechanically controlled and exquisitely quiet, continues to protect my delicate proboscis from the potential ire of many a subject.
Conclusions
In the world of on-line camera reviews, I’m aware this one stands out as somewhat unique — but so is the Leica M-A.
I barely discussed camera features because, frankly, the camera’s total lack of features is its primary feature.
I discussed nothing about the camera’s image quality because that’s more a product of the lens used, the film chosen, and the developing technique applied. In fact, prior to writing this article, I considered including only photos taken of the M-A, and not by the M-A. The conceit of this plan was to illustrate that the camera’s only function is to transport the film, hold it flat, open the shutter precisely when commanded and keep it open for an accurate duration of time. What purpose would be fulfilled by showing photos? Particularly the type of photos that I favor? It’s not like I’m going to start taking some pedantic photos of clock towers or some hackneyed reflection shots, just because I’m writing a camera review.
But, ultimately, I decided to go ahead and include some photos — mostly because readers will expect them, but also to help break up the significantly long blocks of text contained within this article.
And speaking of significantly long blocks of text, I’m fully aware that this is a very long article for what’s ultimately a rather short review — but that’s because the true beauty of the M-A is not revealed within its specifications, but within its lineage and its gestalt — important factors in understanding what it is that makes such a simple camera so wonderful.
At this point, I suspect several of you are wondering whether or not I won the lottery. After all, how else could a mere photographer — particularly one whose stylistic choices are as unpopular as mine — afford to buy a new Leica M-A?
And the answer, sadly, is “I didn’t.” I asked Leica for a review sample and, surprisingly, they complied. Regrettably, I possessed the camera for only two weeks, and those two weeks happened to coincide with the Holidays, a photo-precluding excursion to Portland, copious quantities of Vancouver rain, and a rather significant and extended migraine. But in spite of all the deterrents, I still managed to run 5 rolls of Tri-X through the camera — more than enough to draw the conclusions outlined in the article, though obviously not enough to have assembled a compelling collection of photos. Still, it’s all I needed to realize that this camera must somehow, someday be mine.
Though few photographers will care or understand, Leica has done something truly extraordinary — they’ve revitalized a camera bloodline that was essentially left for dead 40 years ago. And by doing so, they’re helping to extend the life of a particular style of photography — a style that’s heavily dependent on 35mm rangefinder film cameras — for several generations to come.
There’s a faint but tactile unease emanating from within the big cabinet o’ cameras that sits inside my tiny little condo. Cameras may well be inanimate objects, but they know. They know I’m eyeing them, prioritizing them, and placing dollar values on their pretty little vulcanite hides. There’s enough of ‘em in there to finance a new Leica M-A… I know it. And so do they…
©2015 grEGORy simpson
ABOUT THESE PHOTOS:With the exception of the two photographs depicting the M-A itself, all the photos in this article were (of course) shot with the Leica M-A. Needless to say, that fact is rather meaningless. What’s perhaps of more interest is the lens, film and developer used to create each photo. To keep things simple, I shot everything on Tri-X exposed at ISO 400, and developed it in HC-110 (Dilution H). The sole exception was Mobile Office, which I shot on some decade-old expired Tri-X at ISO 320 — an experiment I did not continue since some minor fogging was evident on the negatives. That leaves us with only the lenses to discuss:
- Mobile Office was shot with a Voigtlander 50mm f/1.5 Nokton-M
- Hear No Evil utilized a Leica 28mm f/2.0 Summicron-M
- Crosswalk found its way here via a Voigtlander 21mm f/4 Color-Skopar
- Death Takes A Dip employs a Leica 28mm f/2.0 Summicron-M
- False Creek, Vancouver BC used a Leica 50mm f/2.0 Summicron-M (v5)
- Aptly Named required my trusty Leica 28mm f/2.0 Summicron-M
- Rocket Man was shot with a Leica 50mm f/2.0 Summicron-M (v5)
- The Clock Atop Vancouver Block was photographed with my woefully underutilized Leica 90mm f/2.8 Elmarit-M
- Underworld comes compliments of the Leica 35mm f/2.0 Summicron-M (v4)
- Relativity is a product of the Leica 28mm f/2.0 Summicron-M
Incidentally, because I’m likely to be asked about it, I should probably identify all the participants in the Bloodline photo shoot. In front and in-focus is the Leica M-A, sporting the tried and true 28mm f/2 Summicron lens. Slightly behind it and on the far left is the Leica M2, wearing the ultra-rare 1999 special-edition thread-mount 50mm pre-ASPH f/1.4 Summilux, which was made exclusively for the Japanese market (and, yes, I am willing to sell it). Further back and sitting atop the Winnogrand book is the Leica IIIf, sporting a classic 50mm f/3.5 collapsible Elmar lens. And in the very back, barely in focus, is the stunning Leica IIIc, resplendent in its gun metal grey paint, 35mm f/3.5 Elmar lens and matching Voigtlander 35mm viewfinder.
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You paid to have a IIIc painted?!? You have the sickness bad…
(It does look good though. )
Happy 2015!
Hank: Yes, I did. But in my defense, let me state that the IIIc was FREE. It was essentially included as the “rear lens cap” on an old 50mm Summar lens that I purchased. Since the camera was inoperable, I took it to my local camera tech and, well, one thing lead to another…
M3 and M6 for me, but yes I do lust after the new film Leica…. Where’s my credit card???
Why does the M-A not have a self-timer?
Since there is no battery compartment, Leica could have put the self timer back in for what they are charging!
Robert:
Good point! Since I eschewed selfie’s long before they got popular, and since I’ve always used a cable release in those rare instances when a slow shutter is needed, I completely forgot that the M4 even had a self-timer…
For me, seeing as how I’d probably only use it once (to make sure it worked), it would fall into my “doesn’t really matter” category. But I can see how it might definitely matter to some people, so thanks for pointing that out.
Since most of my photography is of my family, a self-timer is an important accessory for me. The fact that even a humble Voigtlander Bessa R has a self-timer while the fabulous Leica lacks one seems a bother to me.
I’ve had the Leica sickness for a long time. Owned several M4’s over the years and always returned to the M2. The utterly simple view with a 35mm lens is wonderful. I eventually bought an M2-R, arguably the best Leica M made. The rapid load of the M4, the sparse M2 framelines but with an M4 viewfinder sans the balsa cement.
My guess is Leica went back to the M2/3 rewind for the durability (and classic look, maybe not in that order). That side of the camera can take a blow that the canted RW might not survive.
I will even take a stab at defending the frame counter of the M2 — it’s even less prone to failure.
Oh, and the frame lines on your M2 more accurately show what’s going to appear on film that later Leicas.
But even I don’t have the Leica sickness enough to ever buy an M-A. Keep using and loving your M2. It’s going to outlast you with proper maintenance.
Jim: Thanks for your insight and advice… I gotta admit, if I had an M2-R, my M-A desires would likely subside slightly. I’ve never been lucky enough to see one in person, and in those rare instances when I’ve seen them come up for sale, the price has sent me scurrying… Still, after shooting with the M-A for two weeks, I was pleasantly shocked at just how perfectly the camera matched the experience of shooting with the M2 — only better (thanks to the feature additions and the “newness” of the mechanics). But is it several thousand dollars better? That’s the, umm, several thousand dollar question. 😉
Simply put, yes. 😉 I debated for a couple months before the release if it was really something I wanted, already owning an M2, M3 and ME. But as I no longer shoot digital, I had the ME for sale and was contemplating dumping the M3 as well for the M-A. I just couldn’t decide last September when I talked to my camera shop and they offered to do an even swap for the ME + M3 for the M-A. How could I say no? And now that I own it, easily the best purchase I have made. I now have the M2 + M-A on me daily, and it’s such an amazing piece of work. One day, it will belong to my children, then their children after that. It’s the start of a new heirloom. But for now, it’s the most perfect camera (for me) ever built.
Don’t count on it. My M2-R is for sale, on consignment at my Leica (read: crack) dealer. I bought the black M-A. It is sublime. I chose black because it is a thoroughly 2014 look to an otherwise retro camera, while the silver chrome is a retro look to a retro camera. So it seemed fitting that if Leica was going to make a ‘new old’, I’d go for the new look – the lack of Leica dot AND lack of Leica engraving only previously seen on the Monochrom (2012).
Your review is one of the best camera reviews I’ve ever read. You write well, and you’ve articulated some of the reasons I fell in love with the M-A – some of the things only really made sense that I’d felt when I read what you’d written.
I hope you do indeed get one somehow.
Nice photos btw.
Hi Linden,
In addition to the M2-R I also purchased the MP when it came out with the .58 finder. The fit and finish of the MP was noticeably better than the M6. I would imagine that without the need to engage the light meter, the M-A has a smoother shutter release feeling more akin to the M2-M4. When I got my MP (actually purchased before my M2-R) I remember thinking it was the best M I ever used. I would have chosen black for my MP had it been available at the time.
It’s cool that Leica is making the M-A available as a mainstream camera and not some ridiculous limited edition.
Having used a Leica M-E for a few months now I’ve come to think of it as my all-time favorite M. It’s a Leica M2 that just happens to have a sensor. Hopefully Leica will continue down this minimalist Leica M digital path.
I hope so too Jim.
BTW – Ray Larose, who commented above, has also written a nice review of the M-A on his site.
I love the black one so much I may end up sacrificing some gear to acquire the silver one as its companion.
Hey, thanks for the ping, Linden! Yep, the black is amazing! Sacrificing gear (like I did) is the way to go. 😉
I have said it before, and I will say it again. You write the best camera reviews bar none. Great writing, fabulous photos, all wrapped up in typically Egorian package. Made my day.
Agree. For me, this is the best photo site on the web.
Greycoopers, Brendon: Thanks for the kind words. It makes it all the more enjoyable for me to maintain this site when I know there are people who actually like it!
I have to say, the M-A is by far the nicest Leica I have owned (M2, M3, ME) and ended up selling the M3 & ME as they were just no longer being used. The M-A is a true work of art that I shoot daily – hell, it never leaves my side. Great write-up here.
Up until 5 minutes ago I was perfectly content with my M2 expecting to keep it for ever, “knowing” that I had the best camera in the world. Now look what you have gone and done. This article may well have ruined my life ….. 🙂
A great review, wonderfully written!
Leica brought the one piece film advance lever back with the M6 Millennium Edition, which I believe precedes the MP. Great article!
Wolfy: Thanks for the clarification! My Leica historical details have always been more “approximate” than “accurate.” I find it less expensive that way. 😉
Wonderful write up. I have an MP Classic (a 2004 special edition that’s basically a black paint version of the M-A) and am looking forward to seeing how it compares against the newer model.
I love my M-A! It is one of my favorite camera to date. I think I will sell my M3 now. I love the discreetness of the M-A and nothing gets in the way of shooting now. It is one of the smoothest camera I have felt. At first my MP felt smoother but after breaking the M-A in it even smoother than my MP.
I fondled an M-A recently, then bought a nice 1966 M2. While I would love the new one, I prefer the cleaner frame lines of the M2 over the crowded viewfinder of the M-A. I suppose I could always order one a la carte with the 35-50-90 option.
Why the M5 insult though? The M5 was a debacle only in terms of its timing, and the bad decision to simultaneously release the 1/4 priced CL. The M5 is, in my opinion, the best 35mm rangefinder camera ever made, by anyone, ever. Accurate spot metering without the annoying red LEDs, shutter speed visible in the viewfinder and easily adjustable at eye level, vertical strap lugs and even better loading and rewinding than the M4. Shoot with an M5 and it becomes obvious that the engineers spent a lot of time trying to make a better camera in every way, and that they succeeded.
Great review by the way.
Hi Andrew:
Thanks for reading, and taking the time to comment. Sounds like another M2 has found a happy home.
Regarding the M5: I meant no “insult” toward the M5 at all — just stating the simple fact that the M5’s failure to find an appreciative audience nearly doomed Leica. As you point out, it wasn’t because it was a bad camera — it just wasn’t the camera that Leica’s customers wanted (at that time). So from Leica’s standpoint, it was a debacle. Much like this ULTRAsomething website is also a debacle from my standpoint — it’s a “product” that takes a tremendous amount of time, effort and resources to create, yet it consistently fails to generate any income or find an appreciative audience… So see? I can call my own product a “debacle,” but that doesn’t mean I’m not very fond of it anyway. 😉
…appreciative but quiet audience member chiming in here… Enjoy your posts and thanks for the effort.
…I have used M bodies since the mid-80s and currently own an M-A, a semi-retired M6 and two MPs. Out there in my real world of low-light photography, there are wants and needs.
The M-A is a lovely piece of hardware, but it is limited if you do not carry a metering device on your person. Sunny 16? Guesstimates? With variable-temperature available light? Dream on, unless you are happy with low to medium percentages. We’re talking cranky low-light photography here. Real rangefinder territory. M bodies on the very edge. Optics pushed to their very limits. Serious not frivolous. A real technical challenge. Even with the very forgiving Tri-X.
The M-A stays at home for such gigs – to use it in such scenarios would be to introduce yet another set of unwanted variables. Exactly what you do not need as you try to keep your processes simple (of which I am a big fan). Love it to bits design-wise but, from a strictly functionality POV, shooting without a meter is something I do only in “hobbyist or enthusiast” mode.
Other than that, a charming opinion piece focused primarily on aesthetics, rather than an outright full-on review.
When I first got the dreaded Leica sickness, I happened upon an interesting bundle:
A new-in-box shop-demo MP Classic from 2004. It was one of 500 “new” MPs that Leica built – at the behest of a dealer in Asia – without an exposure meter. It was a conventional MP in every other respect: black paint, .72 viewfinder, full set of framelines. It came with a gorgeous black-paint Summicron-M 1:2/50 and I was instantly in love. Also, for a new Leica, it had a perfectly acceptable price.
Subsequently I read all the mockery that was heaped upon the “MP Classic” – as it was called: who would buy a camera without a meter, who would even build one, only stupid collectors would buy one, etc.
So when Leica brought out the M-A, I thought to myself, “Here we go again” – except now that it’s a “mainstream” model, rather than a special edition, the tone of the debate is less derisive and a little more reverent.
Ladies, Gentlemen: It’s the same camera as my MP Classic. Literally. And I for one have always loved my MP Classic. All the brass showing on it proves it. 🙂
Want an M-A but can’t afford it? Buy an M4-P instead. Apart from a few cosmetic differences, they are essentially the same. An early M4-P even has the brass top deck. Check it, kids 🙂
I got the two…nothing to compare a great father and a son.
You can u the old one and cross finger that oil, shutter cloth, glass in the rangefinder, time machanism, arm lever, ottom plate, insulation,flash card and black chrome are unsused’ and even you will not et the new mp ranefinder, the no signature, the new blaxk stealth chrome and the new body….
dream, they are not in the same league…
not to talk about waranty and pleasure to be number one.
As an owner of a M3, M4-P and a M5, I don’t lust for the M-A, IMO it’s quite limited, what I would like to see from Leitz is a camera like this one with a max speed of 1/2000s, a spot lightmeter somewhat similar to the M5 (IMO the best Leica M, or at least the most usable) and a 1:1 viewfinder. It’s 2015, not 1957 anymore, if I have to buy a new Leica it needs to have something more than the old glories.
Nice review well written and veryinformative.
I purchased an M7 instead of an M-A. M-A is a different camera from the M7; at least mechanical rather than electronic. But M7 gives me all of what I want from a film camera. I find no flaws to any current film Leica’s. Anybody could desire additions or changes; they are what they are. As long as they work they are just fine and well thought and engineered.
I wish Leica had released colour filters; Instead having to wait until summer.
I love your review, a real piece of leica literature in the classical sense. I am a relative newcomer to Leica, just started using my M6 a little over a year ago. I immediately found the percentage of keeper shots rose higher, probably because I was spending more time on each shot. Before I relied pretty much on my Nikon F3, using the aperture priority mode so shooting was quick. I still shoot with it but again more keepers with my M6. I have been thinking of getting an MP but after reading your article will be thinking about the MA as well. Maybe I should try the M4 first. Thanks again for a super article,
Hank
First time visitor. Enjoyable read. As a shooter, and not a collector, I still don’t understand why the M4-P is treated like a red-headed stepchild?
The M4-P eschews all electronics. It has 28mm viewfinder lines. It is purely mechanical. And yes, it was made in Canada.
Unlike previous German-made Leitz cameras (which required meticulous craftsmanship to hand-fit their components), modern Canadian manufacturing created precision components that didn’t require “fitting”.
The M4-P was also the first to be robust enough for professional users that required a motor drive.
So although it gets no respect in the eyes of Leicaphiles, ignoring the M4-P as a robust mechanical film camera seems shortsighted. Especially for $750.
That’s it – I look at the M-A, and every time I do I think… ‘But it’s just an M4-P, only five times the price and fat’. Then again, I look at the MP and I think ‘But it’s just an M6 Classic, only three times the price and fat’.
I can understand buying an MP or an M-A. It’s a brand new camera which is so much like the brilliance of the original. But I really can’t understand dumping an M6C or M4P to get one. It’s the same camera! 😉
Incidentally, I’m tempted to get a Leica IIIc (perhaps with a Skopar P I 35mm?) as a backup to my M4P (with it’s Skopar P II 35mm)… where did you get yours painted?
Last question no longer relevant… I saw a VERY low cost MDa going, so went for that camera so I could use the same lenses.
A Bessa T would have been as good/better, but this was a truly very cheap (but fully functional) camera…
Thank you John Lockwood for your praise of the M4-P. When I use a pair of these and have found them to be very reliable. I note that our reviwer does not mention how he metered for his shots? I’ve just bought a Gossen Sixtomat Digital. It fits in my shirt pocket with lanyard round my neck and it takes a single AA battery. Before I used Gossen Lunalite, 3 red LEDs. I tend to avoid meters with galvanometer needles as they can be easily broken.
They are awesome cameras. I still use my M4-2.
I fully agree with John Lockwood regarding the M4-P. I use a pair of these to take photos to illustrate the articles I write for newspapers and magazines in English speaking countries around the world. I also use the Leicameter MR4 atop the one in use with VC 25mm f4 Skopar, 40mm f2 Summicron and 90mm f4 Elmar-C.
In use, the camera is very discreet. The bag, a black Billingham Hadley is pushed behind my back and I frequently hide my camera behind my body/leg/coat etc. I also have a 111, made in 1935. Your guy would not have seen it. It pushes into jeans pocket with 50 retracted. We have had a problem here in Blighty with silly people ringing the police when they see us using a camera in a public place. They claim we are scouting for terrorists or we are taking indecent photos of children or we are acting suspiciously.
This is why I perfected a technique for street photography with the 111. See your shot. Take camera out of your jeans pocket pulling lens out at the same time. Up to your eye. Shoot. Camera goes back into pocket pushing lens back at the same time. THEN MOVE ON. Last is most important. Look to see if you are being followed by someone talking into a mobile phone, dive into a department store. Go out by another entrance – LOSE THEM, DEFEAT THEM
Try a 3.5cm f3.5 Elmar. It’s the same size as a collapsed 5cm, but it’s a rigid lens. So tiny! Doesn’t work on the M4 types, but would be great on the III!
long time reader, love your work, both print and photos — they really do go so well together. nice review of the M-A! i have a newish MP (with 0.58 viewfinder) that i enjoy immensely, but from your article i learned that the M-A has 28mm framelines — neat! happens to be my favorite focal length. thanks for all your articles, very enjoyable.
Interesting that you describe the M-A as the ‘true sequel’ to the M4. Because I think that’s completely and utterly wrong!
The changes made to the M4 (two piece advance, fast rewind knob) were introduced to meet the ‘current needs’ of photographers – a faster, more ergonomic camera.
If the M-A is a sequel, then it’s not to the M4, but to the M2 and the M3. It takes the simplicity of the M2 such as the smoother front, and the early M2 self-timer option (i.e. There isn’t one) but restores the automatic frame counter of the M3.
It makes three conceits to modern design: the multitude of frame lines of the M4-P, the flush windows of the M6, and the slightly deeper body of the M8. Note, none of these are from the Wetzlar M4. Which is why the specific cherry picked features make it a sequel not to the M4, but to the M2 and M3. I prefer to think of the M-A as a ‘Greatest Hits’ album, rather than a specific point in the M line. (That gorgeous ISO dial is the all-new bonus track.)
It’s designed for the hipsters* who listen to all the albums, but who will only admit to liking the first three from ‘before they went mainstream’. That’s not a bad thing at all, but why I don’t think it can be described as a sequel to the ‘Workers Leica’.
* Like John, Sarah and David I have an M4-P. I chose it as the most recent Leica M without electronics. I shoot Kodak XX almost exclusively. I count myself as a hipster too, I promise!
I am most certainly not a hipster, but I bought an M-A and did so because I wanted a brand new Leica camera that offers the most pure film experience without any of the electronic training wheels that limit the experience, challenges and fun of taking photographs.
Time and again Leica surprise us: first the M5, then the M7, next M8 and finally a return to the purism of the M3 with the MA.
Does the Leica M-A accept the Leicameter as does the Leica M3?
Hi Brian:
I don’t know the answer, as I don’t own either an M-A or a Leicameter (in fact, I’ve never even used a Leicameter, preferring the swashbuckling “seat of my pants” exposure method).
Wouldn’t the slot on the shutter speed dial indicate the possibility (if not probability) that it would? I’m sure an email to Leica would provide a definitive answer. Good luck. Please feel free to post back here if/when you find the answer — just in case some other reader has the same question. Thanks.
Nice article and fun to read. You mention that you would have liked the m-a to have had a shutter lock to stop the shutter tripping by accident. If you look at the top right m-a home page image on the U.K. Leica website you will see that the illustrative camera has a lock on it…