Film Restoration.... Film Preservation....
Mark Toscano
More and more people who love film, even very casual moviegoers, have become familiar with the idea of “film restoration” or “film preservation”. “Preservation” and “restoration” are words that are thrown around so much when it comes to film these days... perhaps most visibly, they’ve become marketing buzzwords designed to help sell any new DVD of an older film. “Restored” means something good, even if it’s not exactly clear what the hell was restored, how, why, etc.
And between the two terms, “restoration” is certainly the favored word, as it implies that some unspecified heroic action was presumably taken to return a deteriorated film to its original state (whatever that is). “Preservation” is not nearly as exciting sounding. It just seems to mean that whatever the film was, it’s still just that, but it’s sort of “protected” now somehow. In both cases, these terms are necessarily ambiguous and truly can mean any number of things depending on the individual film. Most people assume it means that the evil, smelly, deteriorating, nasty old original film was transferred to shiny new DVDs, where they will last forever in a happy digital wonderland.
That’s certainly not even close to the reality of it. Celluloid is still a much more reliable and proven storage medium for moving images than any digital medium. This certainly may change (it will have to somehow), but film-to-film preservation is still the way to go. There’s not really much necessary mystery to it. In fact, if more people realized how restoration worked, maybe there’d be more funding for it. Too many people assume it means something easy and DVD-oriented. I suppose that the film restoration work itself gets to a point just technical enough that even diehard film buffs tend not to really know what goes on behind the archival green door. There’s often a vague air of selfless heroism and of magical goings-on that permeates the language of reports of film restoration work.
By the way, I’m not trying to harp on “digital”. [Although I have to say that I find it amusing and odd the way “digital”, essentially an adjective, has come to be not just a full-fledged noun, but some sort of grand overriding concept or life-force, which is utterly ambiguous and evasive (and perhaps therein lies its power as a word...).] Digital video and the motion picture imaging and sound technologies available in the digital domain are quite powerful and can be technically and artistically liberating. Additionally, with admirably high quality video transfer available these days, films can be presented more respectfully in video than they ever have. It’s just that lines (of terminology, of practice, etc.) that weren’t all that clear to begin with have been blurred even further.
When a film is preserved these days, the ideal result is that you end up with new film materials that reflect the best possible and/or available combination of source elements to enable the movie to be newly printable, not to mention ensured an extended longevity due to the increased stability of these new film elements. Usually this means new picture and soundtrack negatives. Part of the end result can also be a new video transfer, depending on the potential use of the film, but this is generally more for access purposes, whether it’s to have a convenient screening or reference copy, or to put out DVDs, or for broadcast potential, or what-have-you.
And digitally-based technologies are certainly used in film preservation and restoration work, although still more commonly in sound than in picture. Digital picture work is still extremely expensive, and is more often employed by studios on their films than by archives on their projects.
Unfortunately, in many ways, all of these issues come down to money. Film preservation work, done even somewhat properly, costs a hell of a lot. This is, perhaps not surprisingly, where I’d like to begin to discuss the problems of avant-garde restoration and preservation.
MONEY
The effort to preserve and restore avant-garde and independent film work
is something that’s only become quite focused and concerted in the past
several years. A big help has been the founding of the National Film
Preservation Foundation, which regularly awards preservation grants for noncommercial
work ranging from orphaned silent-era films, to home movies, to educational
films, to avant-garde work. And of course, archives like Anthology Film
Archives and the Pacific Film Archive have been engaged in intense, dedicated,
and pioneering efforts to preserve avant-garde and independent film for some
time.
As other film archives, media libraries and organizations, and miscellaneous nonprofits have gotten involved in preserving independent and avant-garde work particularly over the past decade, more opportunities have opened up for filmmakers or their estates to collaborate with funded institutions towards preserving these fragile artworks.
More and more filmmakers are depositing their work with film archives, media libraries, and other organizations, knowing that there’s a shared interest in protecting and preserving the films. Archives can potentially offer a filmmaker more effective and ideally suited long-term storage (cool and dry!) for the film material and can try to arrange funding to get the work preserved, while still enabling the filmmaker to have access to his or her materials.
Working with these organizations can be incredibly mutually beneficial, but it’s true that this shared benefit should begin with shared understanding. For instance, arrangements between filmmaker and institution should be finalized in writing. Also, intentions and expectations of both parties should be clear.
As celluloid becomes used less and less in the movie industry, it’s going to become a more costly technology to maintain. Already it can be outrageously expensive to try to make even a short film in 16mm. Some long-time 16mm artists have switched to 35mm because they feel that these days it’s really not that much more expensive, and it can look fantastic. Also, there is a lot of uncertainty as to how much longer the 16mm gauge will be supported by Kodak and other manufacturers. As it becomes less supported and more scarce, it will become increasingly more expensive to work in and preserve films in.
Some folks in the archival world are already turning their faces optimistically towards the impending digital sunrise, and within a certain number of years, this will probably be the way a lot of restoration work goes. For audio restoration, it’s quite firmly a part of the terrain, even for low-budget restoration projects. Heavy-duty digital picture work is still nearly the exclusive domain of the studios, as it’s still incredibly expensive stuff. But the prices and the difficulties will absolutely diminish in time, and we may find our options to restore films begin to open up to a new, more affordable array of digitally-based options.
AND NOW, YOUR ELEMENTS
SOME PROBLEMS TO LOOK FOR
In the course of working on a reasonably diverse
range of avant-garde film originals, I’ve noticed some common problems
which can range from mildly annoying to outright alarming. On one hand,
I don’t want to sound
hysterical and freak people out, but I do want to call attention to these potential
issues, so people might investigate their own film materials.
VINEGAR
The number one dirty word among filmmakers (and film collectors, for
that matter) is probably “vinegar”. Beginning in 1923 with
its introduction, 16mm film has been made on acetate “safety” stock. Although
more inert polyester stocks partially replaced acetate in the ‘70s and
even more so today, there are still stocks produced on an acetate base. A
problem with acetate stock is that it’s not as stable as we might like,
and problematic handling and storage conditions, among other things, can exacerbate
this instability and cause the onset of “vinegar syndrome”, so
named because the breakdown of the acetate base gives off acetic acid, smelling
strongly of vinegar. Vinegar syndrome will also result in eventual warping,
shrinking, and far enough along, the breakdown of the film stock beyond any
usability. Film likes to be kept cool and dry, so hot, humid conditions
can be deadly. According to the Image Permanence Institute (and they
know their stuff, see link below), some ideal conditions for long term film
storage are in the neighborhood of 50F/20C and 20-50% relative humidity. This
is probably out of reach for a lot of people who don’t have access to
some kind of archival storage. But don’t put ‘em in the fridge
now! It’s too moist in there, very bad for the films. Additionally,
frequent temperature fluctuations can irritate film more than a consistently
slightly warm climate might. So the basic ideal would be to have your
film stored in clean cans of some relatively inert material (archival plastic
or coated metal, ideally), and kept in at least a relatively cool and not too
humid environment. And traditionally, it is best to isolate vinegar film
from nonvinegar film, as there is much evidence to indicate that it is a communicable
condition.
And this is not to say that all affected film should be tossed in the trash. If the film is in the earlier stages of acetate deterioration, it is possible to slow down the process by (you guessed it!) getting it into cold, dry storage. Additionally, the film can be bagged with something called a molecular sieve inside its can. The molecular sieve is a small desiccant packet which absorbs the offgassing vapors of the acetate deterioration, helping to slow the process down a bit more, as the deterioration is an autocatalytic process that feeds on its own fumes. However, these sieves should be changed periodically, depending on the severity of the condition. Information on molecular sieves and ‘A-D strips’ (which are used for detecting and measuring acetate deterioration), and plenty of other useful stuff can be found at the website for the Image Permanence Institute in Rochester, NY:
www.imagepermanenceinstitute.org
COLOR FADING
Along with vinegar syndrome, another big problem with many stocks
is color fading. Since color stocks are composed of multiple dye layers,
there exists the potential for more stability issues. Black and white
film, being basically silver particles in an emulsion bound to a strip of celluloid,
is much more stable. There is still much uncertainty about the long-term
behavior of various color stocks, but two in particular that seem to affect
independent and avant-garde filmmakers the most are the fading of Eastmancolor
print stock (any generally through the early ‘80s), and 7252 Ektachrome
Commercial or ECO (produced by Kodak from 1970-1985).
Eastmancolor print stock
This was a widespread issue that was eventually resolved
in the early ‘80s
with the introduction of a low-fade print stock. High-profile filmmakers
like Scorsese and Coppola apparently threatened Kodak to fix their cheapo color
print stock or else. In the avant-garde, this creates a problem related
more to economics, I suppose. Prints struck from negatives up through
about 1983 could potentially be fading or totally faded now, which means the
expense of making new prints, if so desired. Expensive. But a more
unexpected problem related to this stock has cropped up in the avant-garde,
which is that it was not uncommon for filmmakers to sometimes incorporate shots
made on color print stock into their positive/reversal originals. Maybe
it was found footage, maybe it was a positive print off an optical negative
for an effects sequence... but now, if that stuff is faded, you’re going
to have problems trying to make a new negative from that original, unless you
don’t mind some of the shots to be totally red. This is the case
with Will Hindle’s Saint Flournoy Lobos-Logos... (1970), with
Brakhage’s The Riddle of Lumen (1972), with Pat O’Neill’s 7362 (1967)
and Foregrounds (1978), with Michael Snow’s Wavelength (1966-67),
and plenty of other work out there. Sometimes there’s a lucky break,
such as with Saint Flournoy or Wavelength, where the negative that made those
positive shots still exists, and can simply be reprinted to create replacement
shots. But that’s probably the exception much more than the rule.
7252 Ektachrome Commercial (ECO)
Available from 1970-1985, this was a popular
choice for many filmmakers wanting a lower contrast stock particularly knowing
they were going to make higher contrast reversal prints, or going through the
internegative-to-print process. Additionally,
it was really commonly used in animation and optically manipulated material. Pat
O’Neill used tons of it in his ‘70s heavily optically printed work,
and Brakhage used it for most of his single-strand printing dupes, such as
for the 8mm Songs. The problem with 7252 ECO is that it also fades, tending
to thin out and veer bluish/purplish. Adam Beckett’s film Heavy-Light (1973)
depicts shifting, optically manipulated light forms on a jet-black background. The
existing reversal prints still look great, probably having been printed on
7387 (Kodachrome) print stock, but the original A & B rolls are now translucent
and bluish. The black background is now a thin blue-purple, even if a
lot of the color subtlety of the light forms still seems present. It’s
uncertain how much specialized color timing could perhaps help counteract the
effects of even mild color fading. A potentially more effective route
to restoring faded ECO originals could be to color correct digitally, but again
we run into a cost issue.
Other Stocks
This is all based on observation, really. (I’m not
proclaiming to be a photochemistry expert here.) Many folks know by now
that one of the most stable color stocks ever developed is easily Kodachrome. Although
later stages of vinegar syndrome can totally break down Kodachrome’s
dye stability (it seems to go purple in those cases!), it’s remarkably
sturdy. Home movies and whatnot from the ‘40s are usually still
in full, vivid color. Assorted Ektachrome stocks (excepting ECO) seem
to be not so bad either in the fading department, although in some the colors
seem to thin out a bit over the years, most noticeably in the blacks and darker
shades. And Ansco stocks are a very mixed bag. My limited experience
has at least empirically shown me that, for instance, the Ansco reversal print
stocks can be utterly faded, while the camera original stocks may be a lot
more stable, though they also seem to thin out a bit colorwise. But for instance,
a number of Brakhage’s early films were shot on Ansco reversal, including Window
Water Baby Moving (1959) and Sirius Remembered (1959), and the
color is stable in both films. On the other hand, I inspected an Ansco reversal
print of John Whitney’s Mozart Rondo (1951) and it was so faded
to a yellowish haze that I could barely discern any imagery. Likewise,
Brakhage’s own master for Centuries of June (1955) is basically
an Ansco reversal print made off the original, which remained with Joseph Cornell. The
film was shot on Kodachrome, but Brakhage’s Ansco master copy is now
a totally golden-yellow color. And Brakhage shot Cat’s Cradle (1959)
on a Gevaert reversal color stock, and that original is now totally faded to
a deep red. As the Kodak stocks are so much more common (at least in
the U.S.), their tendencies are much more understood and predictable. Not
sure about the general fading properties of Gevaert, Ansco, Agfa, Fuji, etc.
UNCONVENTIONAL MATERIALS
This is sort of a catch-all way for me to describe
anything that falls outside the normal chain of film shooting/processing/editing/printing/etc. So:
hand-painting, tape appliqués, inked maskings, unconventionally processed
stocks, outdated stocks, unconventional splicing, deliberate destruction or
modification of the emulsion, nonstandard laboratory printing needs (e.g. fades,
light changes, etc.), even specific stock dependency.
To start with, tape appliqués can smear or become loose or fall off, outdated or weirdly processed stocks can be much less stable and shift over time in strange undesirable directions, and handpainting could react in all kinds of ways, depending on what kind of paint it is. Will Hindle’s original A/B/C rolls for FFFTCM (1967) have elaborate tape appliqués, and are now totally sticky because the adhesive seeped out a bit and got all over the rolls sometime in the ‘70s. They can’t be conventionally cleaned or wet-gate printed, because the tape appliqués will totally dissolve and come off, and plus he also used some hand-inking effects to create 2- or 3-frame dissolves. Brakhage’s original for Thigh Line Lyre Triangular (1961) is amazingly worked over with paint, ink, scratching, chemicals, etc., and is in remarkably good condition, but the thickness of the film surface, and some mild melting of the edges in two places when it was printed some time in the past have rendered it unable to be contact printed today as it always had been in the past. Again, Pat O’Neill’s 7362 (1967) has lots of unconventionally processed stock, much of it solarized, which has led to some mild but definite color instability. Ernie Gehr’s film Reverberation (1969) will be a problematic preservation, as its incredibly flinty, gravelly look is rather dependent on the particular black and white reversal stock he used for printing. In fact, Ernie’s film History (1970) has for years already been somewhat of a “lost” film, in that its reversal stock grain “imagery” is so dense and stock-specific, that a recent attempt to duplicate the film resulted in little more than black leader.
WORKING WITH ARCHIVES/LABS
Not only can these sorts of special modifications
cause trouble well before any lab gets it to make a new negative or print,
but a lab or archive not prepared to deal with this sort of stuff can inadvertently
screw something up. Robert
Nelson’s film Limitations (1988) is made up of A, B, C, and
D rolls. The C roll alone has some brief ink-on-film effect towards its
tail to create a weird masking with the other rolls. When the new negative
was made, the A, B, and D rolls were wet-gate printed, whereas the C roll was
printed dry, otherwise the ink would’ve washed away. However, this
is something that could’ve easily slipped by a less attentive lab.
Another lab created a preservation negative for a film which featured some unconventional stocks, some of which had faded. The curator managing the project failed to notice this, as did the lab. Additionally, the film has an intensely synched A-B-C roll interrelationship that is single-frame-dependent in some sequences. Somehow, the B roll was printed one frame offset from the A and C rolls, resulting in a preservation negative that not only had faded colors built-in, but had incorrect superimpositions and cuts due to the one frame discrepancy of the A-B-C printing by the lab.
To wit: a very important part of working in collaboration with an archive or other organization, or even working directly with a lab on an older film is communication, although it can certainly go too far. For instance, a filmmaker is in an ideal position to inform the archive or lab about potential problems with their originals, and to be able to approve the work as it’s done. However, filmmakers also have to understand that the problems in dealing with a film when it’s first made versus the problems faced now that that film has become “archival” in its age are often going to be totally different, even contradictory. Additionally, filmmakers need to understand that film stocks have changed so much in just a few decades, and certain things can no longer be accomplished or will at least look slightly different (perhaps “better”, even) with current stocks. But it is very important that the filmmaker be available for consultation in the preservation of their film, no matter who is overseeing it.
SAVE YER PRINTS!
If you suspect or determine that your originals could be seriously
compromised in some way, keep in mind that any available prints could be potentially
useful in the preservation of your films. Almost all of Hy Hirsh’s
films were preserved or restored from surviving projection prints. David
Bienstock’s
two films will be preserved in the same way. As mentioned briefly above,
Brakhage’s Cat’s Cradle (1959) was shot on a Gevaert reversal
stock that has now faded to a deep red. Before this happened, around
1972, he made an ECO printing master off the original to protect it, but also
in order to make a printing negative. That ECO master has since faded
somewhat to the aforementioned bluish appearance. Additionally, the internegative
made around the same time is two generations from the original and has been
printed dozens of times. So it actually turns out that the best likely
surviving element from which the film can be preserved is a 1969 reversal print
made directly from the original, even a couple of years before the ECO was
made.
Prints have also often been extremely helpful as master soundtrack sources in the preservation of a film’s audio. This was the case with Robert Nelson’s Hot Leatherette (1967), for which the original magnetic sound elements were lost, and will also be the case with some of Brakhage’s sound films, like Desistfilm (1954) and Reflections on Black (1955).
If you can help it, it’s advisable to only throw elements out if they’re in absolutely wretched condition and you specifically know that the films are well represented by other, better elements, and only then if you simply don’t have the space or the vinegar smell is beginning to put off your cats or neighbors.
IN CONCLUSION, SOME BASIC SUGGESTIONS
Try to keep your film elements in a relatively cool, dry, unpolluted area.
It’s a good idea to keep magnetic tracks stored separately from picture and other non-mag elements. Mag on acetate stock has a tendency to deteriorate quicker than acetate photographic film, and if they’re all in the same can, this can accelerate the demise of the other non-mag rolls too.
It’s a good idea to remove any extraneous objects from the cans with the films, although if it’s important documentation like timing/grading sheets, definitely make sure they don’t get mixed up or misplaced. Though they may not be specifically useable by a new lab printing your material, they can still be essential guidelines to timing/grading, and are particularly important for indicating lab light effects such as dissolves and fades. But you can always make up some folders or envelopes with the lab paperwork inside, corresponding to the specific films, and perhaps affixed to the top of the can, so they’re not too far separated. But stuff like newspaper or tissue paper, or plastic bags, or paper clips, etc. should definitely be removed.
Keeping film rolls in plastic bags inside the can may not be a major problem as long as the film can breathe and the bag plastic is relatively inert, but unless you’re otherwise only able to store your film in rusty cans or you have no cans whatsoever, there’s no real point to it.
Please remember that transferring to digital does NOT protect the films in any way preferable to celluloid, excepting that in video, films can be watched over and over without risking damage to the actual film. But as it stands, digital will not last nearly as long as film, will not represent the film’s true resolution, is easily corrupted, has no reliable long-term storage medium, and is too dependent on constantly obsolescing hardware.
Maybe you don’t want to work with an archive or media organization, but even if you’re just looking for ideas or advice or consultation, there are plenty of people willing to assist with no strings attached. Try the AMIA organization for starters (Association of Moving Image Archivists). http://www.amianet.org
And as mentioned briefly above, the National Film Preservation Foundation (NFPF) is an American organization that has been very supportive of the preservation of noncommercial film work. Their website has a lot of helpful info about film preservation in general, as well as a detailed, freely downloadable/printable Film Preservation Guide to the basics of working with film in an archival context.
Disclaimer
Just want to say that what I’ve written will obviously reflect
my own relatively narrow experiences, which are that I work in a good-sized
American film archive that has stable funding, and at which we work to collect,
protect, preserve, and restore works of an incredibly diverse nature. Much
of what I work on could be termed ‘avant-garde’ or ‘experimental’,
so I hope that even with the aforementioned limitations on the breadth of my
experience, some of what I write will be helpful.