Sometimes Film Photography Sucks
You know the type—those film photographers online who make everything look flawless. Smooth tones, perfect exposures, clean scans, no light leaks, no scratches, no stress. As if their cameras never misfire, their rolls never jam, and every click is a masterpiece waiting to happen.
But let’s be real for a second. That’s not the full story. Not even close.
If you’ve shot film long enough, you know that it’s not always smooth sailing. Maybe your batteries have died mid-roll. Maybe you’ve opened the back of a camera only to realize—too late—that the film wasn’t rewound. Or maybe, like me, you’ve taken what you thought were 36 brilliant, inspired shots… only to find out later that not a single one made it onto the film. If none of that’s ever happened to you, then congratulations. You're either outrageously lucky, or you just haven't been shooting film long enough. Give it time.
The truth is, film photography—beautiful, nostalgic, rewarding as it is—comes with its own share of heartbreak. It’s unpredictable. It’s old cameras, delicate chemistry, and light-sensitive material that can be ruined by a pinhole leak or a hairline misalignment. It doesn’t always go the way you plan. And that’s exactly what happened to me recently.
The Roll That Wasn’t
About a month ago, I decided to give digital a break. I had been spending a lot of time with my Leica M9, taking it on one last adventure before parting ways with it. After those final digital frames, I felt like I needed to reconnect with film—get back to what grounds me creatively. So I pulled out my trusty Leica III, a beautiful little machine from the 1930s that’s never let me down.
I loaded it up with some Kentmere 400, cut the film leader (as you have to with these older Barnack Leicas), and headed out for a photo walk through one of Tulsa’s historic neighborhoods just south of downtown. It's an area I love—quiet streets, old houses, lots of character. The light was soft, the weather was perfect, and for the first time in a while, I felt in it. Focused. Creative. Every frame felt intentional. I had that “this is why I shoot film” feeling.
By frame 36, I was feeling good. I was proud of what I had captured. But as I started to rewind the roll, something didn’t feel right. The tension wasn’t there. The roll spun back into the canister way too quickly—like, suspiciously quickly.
I paused. My stomach dropped. “No… no way.” I hoped I was just being paranoid, but I knew something was off. Still, I went through the motions and developed the roll, hoping maybe I had at least a few frames. But when the negatives came back, there it was: 36 shots. All layered on the first frame like a chaotic mess of disappointment. The film had never advanced. Every “decisive moment” I had captured? Gone.
What Went Wrong?
Here’s the thing about using vintage gear like the Leica III: you have to know its quirks. The film leader has to be longer than modern rolls—around 4 inches instead of the usual 1.5. This design goes all the way back to when the cameras were first released. If you don’t cut it just right, or if it doesn’t catch properly when you load it, the film can jam. Or worse, it can slip loose and stop advancing while you keep on shooting, blissfully unaware.
I don’t know exactly what went wrong that day. Maybe the leader wasn’t cut long enough. Maybe it slipped loose. Whatever the reason, the result was the same: an entire roll of photos lost.
So… Sometimes Film Sucks
That’s the reality of this medium. Sometimes it breaks your heart. You can do everything right and still walk away with nothing. And that’s hard—especially when you were feeling good about your work. Especially when you were already imagining which shots you’d print, scan, or post.
But that’s also part of the experience. You accept the risk because the reward is worth it. You roll the dice, take the leap, and trust the process.
So no, it’s not always perfect. Sometimes film sucks. Sometimes it's not even your fault. But it’s in those moments that we remember why this medium is so special. Because it demands more from us. Because we earn every frame.
And the only thing to do after losing a roll like that? Load up another one. Try again. Keep going.
You're not alone in the frustration—every film shooter has a story like this. And if you don’t yet, well... just wait.
Until next time—Happy Shooting.
