I was sitting alone in a pensive state some time ago, dealing with the fact that our make-up artist appeared to be spending an inordinate amount of time trying to affect miracles with a troublesome client’s face. Admittedly, my thoughts were less about her and markedly more focussed on my early days in the local television industry; more particularly, my close association with that gracious old video camera workhorse – the Sony DXC6000.
For those of you imagining that you’d never even heard of a camera sporting that combination of letters and numerals; let me assure you that during the eighties, when many of you were still floating about with intent in the great ether – many of us were shooting at a dizzying pace – using three tube cathode-ray cameras tethered to High-Band U-Matic recorders, via a thick black six-foot umbilical cord that displayed the uncanny ability for entanglement.
Chuckle at the antiquity of it all if you must but I am among early operators who consider themselves fortunate enough to have endured myriad rigors of video production work way back then. That’s because every day offered new learning experiences. I am less grateful for the legacy of persistent shoulder pain with which I now have to contend.
My association with Sony cameras has quite contentedly endured for over three decades – longer than some marriages. I later happily segued unannounced into the Betacam era and accepted the probability that all future cameras would weigh the equivalent of a small child.
That was until the advent of the new millennium, a time filled with angst at the distinct possibility that humankind would experience unprecedented computer mayhem – that the world would be plunged into anarchy and unimaginable horror. The Japanese – who quite thankfully really had more of a grasp of keypads, motherboards and flashy lights than almost anyone else on the planet – opted to ignore the hype and boldly went where no man had been before. Their ultimate solution; lightweight, formidable and affordable video cameras. Canon boldly introduced us to their XL1 range of digital video cameras and personally speaking – there was no turning back!
The halcyon age of video camera practicality was inevitably short-lived. Some overworked technician somewhere experienced an epiphany one evening and imagined a time where cameras would all be reduced in size and functional ability. Very rapidly, the virus spread – and soon the dreaded ‘Prosumer’ cameras were born.
Brick-sized, plastic hand-held bread-bins with tiny, completely useless (in my view) rear-mounted eyepieces – inconveniently located at the back of the camera. This ill-considered design rendered controlled panning and tilting almost impossible, unless you were prepared to elicit stares every time you shot outdoors in polite society. People watched operators intentionally collapsing one leg – almost ballet-like, bending sideways at alarming angles to the camera, desperately trying to exercise some control over the shot while tilting. Panning offered other distractions and mirth. Some hapless camera operator would perform a sideways crab-like stepping motion to avoid the tripod’s legs, whenever a car or some-such subject moved across the field of view. Consequently, there would be a tell-tale bump or lag in the footage. We’ve all seen examples.
Cameras universally sported small flip-out screens with pictures no-one could really see in broad daylight, requiring the camera to be wielded in an assortment of prone positions – quite similar to what an orang-utan would do whilst inspecting the underside of a bunch of bananas. Evidently, very few operators would confidently shoot a subject unless the camera was angled upwards towards an unsuspecting subject’s nostrils or looming ominously overhead like an inquisitive fly. This was all accomplished hand held – naturally.
The ubiquitous, unsteadily floating, out-of-focus, wobbly-shot series of camera movements were born – and quite liberally employed during the shooting of music videos. I realise I’m ranting of course, but I firmly believe the average person would quite happily avoid watching material that looks as though it was shot by an operator sitting crouched inside an operational tumble-dryer.
Just in case you thought Sony were in any danger of escaping this diatribe, they’re not. Unless one was intent on disposing of inordinately large amounts of hard-earned cash, there were few choices available to shooters who were intent on finding anything resembling an ergonomically professional camera at a fair price to work with.
That, in the most roundabout of ways is what eventually brings me to the Sony FS7. What a marvel. I can confidently reveal that I charged headlong towards using the FS7 soon after it was released locally. I had been trawling the net following the camera’s development and launch date for months – hanging on every word uttered by Sony’s product manager, Juan Martinez. Finally, a camera that hearkened back to the good old days of the shoulder-mount was to be unveiled. A camera that sported a side-mounted eyepiece and looked as though it had been conceived and designed with operators in mind.
After an eighteen month period of using the camera, I have learned to overlook and sometimes ignore some of its inherent quirks. Primary amongst these is the dreadfully cheap and nasty plastic eyepiece.
Why, oh why must Sony insist on utilising eyepieces that look like they had been designed as an afterthought by a committee of accountants? This is also not a singular achievement folks. No, these indiscretions go way, way back. The good ol’ DXC 6000 I alluded to at the beginning of this piece sported a similar eyepiece to the FS7. That version featured a kind of small plastic cabinet containing a tiny screen that would slide up and down like a trap door. The whole nasty contraption swung around on a single rod sticking out at a perpendicular angle from the camera body – with the connector cable winding around the rod – ultimately until it pulled out.
It was additionally, (theoretically at least) held fast by a nut that would never screw tight no matter the degree of force applied to it.
Overlooking numerous other ergonomic indiscretions, vis-a-vis the slow menu function, it is truly the dream instrument camera operators have been waiting for. The FS7 has naturally been upgraded in the interim – and the new Mk2 is still a highly cost-effective 4K and HD capture platform, offering a plethora of professional options that have rendered its big brother, the F55, almost obsolete. Primarily, it is the Sony XAVC-I codec that really stands out here. Recording 4K RAW still requires an off-board recorder like the Atomos Shogun, but for true REC709 colour – you get awesome results from the sensor at 10 bit depth, 4:2:2. Arguably, one of the cameras most attractive features is the ability for one to under – or over-crank at will rather easily using the S&Q button, ideally located at the operator’s side of the camera.
This is accomplished using a preselected frame rate of as little as one frame, to a gorgeous 180 fps in HD mode. Now, for those of you intent on shooting 4K internally, you’ll still get a commendable 60fps should you make the decision to do so, but you are likely to end up wading through 64GB XQD cards like gambling chips. Should you elect to use an off-board recorder however, you’ll find loads of additional room on-board the FS7 to attach assorted magic arms and spigots.
The camera we have been working with has a cheese-plate which surrounds the front of the camera (around the lens), as well as a padded shoulder mount with rails to support a 4” swing-away matte box. Hand-held work is simplified using an old-school ARRI shoulder mount, as the FS7 tends to be somewhat front heavy. My favourite feature is the dial-able selector switch, which allows the operator to choose between a standard range of ND filters. Other programmable selectors such as the ISO settings and white balance can be found where they have always been.
It proved to be what was promised by Sony. An ergonomic masterpiece that would etch an indelible mark in the annals of history. Since then, the camera has been used on corporates, television work for broadcasters here and abroad, as well as for long form work. We use the native 28mm to 135mm zoom lens as a standard for ENG shoots, with a Polaroid filter that also protects the glass. This is not, in my opinion, the finest lens available for ENG work as it lacks the wider end other lenses offer at around 18mm to 20mm.
We frequently use Sony primes (35mm, 50mm, 85mm), employing a PL to e-mount adapter with a lens support. The lens mount has been strengthened on the Mk2. Using the primes on the super-35 sensor provides glorious Bokeh – the kind we film-types search for with vigour and intent on every shoot we do.
Naturally, the Sony primes are rated at T2, which is some way off the f4 rating of the native zoom lens, although the camera’s low-light capacity is commendable. I have not had to shoot at an ISO beyond the native 800 default setting – and the pictures are really awesome. When shooting in S-Log 3 the camera is capable of 14 stops of dynamic range and that folks, edges towards Arri Alexa capability. For a camera that costs substantially less than the Arri or RED products – this is a really remarkable achievement on Sony’s part. With LUTS and camera-matching software widely available, content delivery standards have shot skywards in recent times, which is really heartening when considering the fact that this was neigh impossible in the past. More filmmakers have the ability to create highly professional content at a fraction of costs historically. This enhances creative expansion and freedom – and that grows the industry.
Interestingly, I sometimes get to use a vintage Angenieux 25mm to 250mm lens when shooting. Weighing substantially more than a small Bovine, it is rated at T4.5, but the tobacco-coloured flares one gets within the late afternoon ‘golden hour’ are the stuff of legend. I absolutely adore using it. When South African-born cinematographer Dan Mindel SASC, ASC, BSC visited us last year as part of his Silwerskermfees duties in Cape Town; I was fortunate enough to accompany him on a leisure trip to a local game reserve for a few days. Fellow SASC cinematographer Charles Bengis and I were his hosts on the safari – but seeing as though both of us had witnessed more antelope and zebra in our time than possibly even David Attenborough – we were more intent on picking his brain about the art of cinematography. Dan Mindel worked as D.O.P. with JJ Abrams on Star Trek Into Darkness and also shot Star Wars: The Force Awakens, The Amazing Spiderman 2 and Pacific Rim 2 amongst others!
Dan mentioned casually that given the choice, he would stick to good old 1920X1080 as a digital standard for capture. You could have felled me with a pan handle. These words proffered by a man who has worked on the kinds of films many of us could only dream of shooting, was possibly the last thing I imagined hearing from him. How could I ever argue such sage advice? I guess it all relates to those of us who have grown up as it were, with 35mm film. I felt a warm glow envelope me as I began to imagine the possibilities. Perhaps it was just the campfire.
With the advent of 8K, VR and heaven knows what else awaits us as filmmakers and shooters. We are faced with myriad options when it comes to the art of capturing moving images. All considered, it percolates down to bang-for-buck, methinks. How best to get the job done across various platforms at a price advantage that allows for creative freedom. Whatever your decision, the Sony FS7 offers us the operator’s camera package. A shoulder mount, side mounted viewfinder, solid magnesium body with all of the requisite bits to get the job done efficiently, professionally and in good time – and with an altogether sexy look that says; ‘The pro has arrived’!
By Paul Nel, SASC
