Once upon a time, long before commercial moviemaking became the passion of every Tom, Dick and Mary in America, Super 8 filmmaking was the domain of suburbanites whose Polaroid cameras, when it came to recording such events as junior's first crawl across the linoleum floor, didn't quite fit the bill.

The thousands of miles of grainy, jerky footage they left behind created a perception of the format as being amateurish, even primitive, akin to black and white photography with an instamatic camera. Then, as home video technology was developed and VCRs and camcorders mass-produced, Super 8 film equipment was rendered all but obsolete.

But not for long. We are now in the beginning stages of a Super 8 revival fueled in large part by further advances in the very technology that made it the Rodney Dangerfield of motion picture photography in the first place. No-budget independents, who continue to rely on Super 8 as an alternative to the wildly expensive 16 and 35 min formats, are suddenly being joined by professionals in Hollywood who are drawn not just to the rustic home movie look and hand-held mobility, but to a new development, Super 8 color negative film.

"It used to be that we always got the kind of professional jobs that called for that older home movie look," comments Phil Vigeant, president of Burbank-based Super 8 Sync Sound System and developer of the new color negative stock. "You see it in commercials and even major motion pictures like Flatliners, which has a whole segment shot in 8 where it's a POV of a video camera meant to imitate old newsreel footage. But now you can shoot the same color negative film in 8 mm that had only been available in 16 and 35 and get the same high quality image you see on television. For people working in Super 8, this is sheer ecstasy."

"When they saw the footage (the marketing people) were just amazed...they didn't know whether it was just 16 or 35, or what about it looked different, but they loved it." —Bruce Finn

Bruce Finn, a Los Angeles-based DP involved primarily in commercial work, agrees. "I think this stuff is great. It's got a different, really interesting look to it. It takes the medium that some people thought was dying and completely revitalizes it. It's definitely a tool professional cinematographers should keep in mind.

Last month he got a call from an advertising agency asking if he could shoot a 30-second spot on an $8,000 budget with only four days turnaround to help raise money for one of its pro bono accounts. Having initially tested the color negative stock some weeks earlier, Finn sidestepped the agency's expectation that he shoot it on videotape, and set out with his Super 8 camera and bare bones crew to do the job. Two days and 50 rolls of exposed film later, he went back to the agency.

"When they saw the footage they were just amazed," says Finn. They said that they didn't know whether it was 16 or 35, or what about it looked different, but they loved it." Besides image quality, he was able to present sequences that a full crew could never have put together on such a budget. "I shot in places that would have been completely off limits to a 16 or 35 mm crew. You have so much more accessibility with the smaller, lighter, more mobile unit. People think you're a kid running around taking pictures."

The stealth factor is something the more do-it-yourself oriented independents have been using to their advantage for years, and not just in securing good locations. Super 8 filmmaker Mark Pirro had a big hit in the mid-80's with his horror/spoof movie A Polish Vampire In Burbank, which a distributor snapped up thinking it was shot in a higher format. Pirro let them think what they wanted and signed a deal that led to his being offered to direct his first 35 mm film, Death Row Gameshow. Only after reading an interview some time later did the distributor discover the film he purchased had been shot in Super 8, and even though it made him think he paid too much, the deal stood firm. Interestingly, after Pirro's experience directing the big budget Hollywood film, he chose to return to Super 8 and the creative independence he was forced to compromise on the more lavish production.

Mark Pirro's experience aside, success via Super 8 filmmaking does not normally lead to a lucrative distribution deal right out of the gates. More common is a tireless self-distribution approach whereby the completed film is packaged, advertised and sold in video cassette form, usually by mail order. But don't think for a second that it happens overnight.

"Readers like to read that becoming successful in film is like a Cinderella story, where magically the distributor appears after your first effort," says Vigeant. "That's how a lot of people look at it, because I guess there are a few stories where that's happened. But look at someone like Rick Linklater. I sold him his first Super 8 camera 12 years ago. His films Slacker and Dazed and Confused reached a wide audience, but that was after years of making and self-distributing low-budget Super 8 features down in Texas. He's no new filmmaker."

One of the primary vehicles propelling low budget Super 8 filmmakers is the Beverly Hills based Film Threat Video Guide, sister publication to Christian Gore's cutting edge movie magazine, Film Threat. The Video Guide, developed in 1990 for the independent filmmaker market left behind when Film Threat went more mainstream, covers movies shot in 8 or 16 mm that go direct to video and that you would not see at the local cineplex.

Dave Williams, editor of the Video Guide, is the cult film kingpin who screens, reviews and distributes the new titles he believes will be successful. "The rare filmmaker who can actually get a film finished usually has no idea how to go about advertising or distributing it when it is finished. Our readership, meanwhile, wants to know how to get their hands on these films so we simply bridge the gap."

To be sure, the majority of films he elects to promote are of the extreme stomach-turning variety, outrageously raunchy and disgusting, sometimes pornographic. But this genre has long attracted a certain established audience that will buy upwards of 8,000 copies and lay the groundwork for a bigger budget on the next go-around. Strong sales attract investors, which in turn can lead to the elusive "lucrative deal."

Williams and Gore see similarities between the development of video and filmmaking in the '90s and that of rock & roll in the late '70s, when the punk movement exploded onto the scene. According to Williams, the stagnation in the music industry that led to punk resulted from suits, not talent, deciding what got made, how it got recorded and who was getting a contract. The film business today, he observes, suffers from that same kind of crippling insularity.

"What it led to then and what it's leading to now," he insists, "is a rebellious kind of can-do attitude where people will do whatever it takes to finish a work that's true to their vision. I foresee movie fans getting tired of the stuff the Hollywood machine cranks out every year and seeking out the less formulaic work that's beginning to emerge. Add to that the long promised 500 cable channel format and you can see a definite opening for an infusion of independent film productions.

Here are a few case studies of Super 8 moviemakers who have seen the future and are well along the path to success.

Karl Krogstad

Veteran Northwest filmmaker Karl Krogstad recently finished a nationally distributed documentary film for PBS called Surrealism, which he shot on every format known to man including 35 mm, 16 mm, high 8, 3/4" and 1/2" videotape, and, of course, Super 8 film, all finished on 1" tape. With 20 years of film experience and an impressive body of completed works in the can, Krogstad knows his craft well and believes deeply in the potential of Super 8.

"Super 8 is the ultimate no-budget tool," he says. "But you need to reach an audience and Super 8 on its own cannot do that. There are only two or three festivals left that cater to it, so you must convert it to tape. Now obviously when you do so there's some grain structure, but there's really very little difference between Super 8, 16 and 35 mm after they're bumped to tape. So you can be a genius on Super 8, as you might be on 35, but at a fraction of the cost, and can reach a mass audience thanks to videotape.

"Of course, the quality of the work has less to do with the technicality of it than the story. The bottom line is, can you deliver a dramatic story and make anyone love it? You can do it on 35 and spend $30 million, or do it on Super 8 and spend a couple thousand. It really and truly depends on the people involved. In Super 8 you can deliver the same acting quality, so it all depends on the will of the filmmaker and his ability to talk talented people into working with him for little or no money. This is the future of Super 8 as an art form."

Krogstad, who believes the only true market for the format is television and home videocassette, feels that the coming explosion in cable channels will lead to an infinite number of possibilities for truly independent filmmakers. And if cable prices come down as promised, he sees the market - and therefore the audience - growing tremendously. But he advises a cautious approach when it comes time to signing the deal.

"The contract I signed for Surrealism was one I examined long and hard," he explained. "I've been through this a lot and have learned that you do not take the first deal offered. Ever. Play them off of one another and negotiate a better deal wherever possible. But stick with Super 8. If you really have no money you can mix it with High 8 tape to reduce costs further. It's a very viable form."

Chris Fieri

Chris Fieri also from New York, whose third full-length Super 8 feature The Stranger is finding an ever-widening audience, has turned self - distribution into an art form. Due to embark this month on a seven-country European tour to show the film in coffee shops, art houses and on university campuses, he is confident that this time a distributor or two will buy a few thousand copies and send them around to the video stores.

"I'm not a businessman, but I've got a good feeling about it," he remarks. Unlike his previous films, Teenage Mummies and The Arbitrons, which he describes as straight-ahead cheapo-funny-campy-horror films, he actually likes this one and feels it has helped him raise his skill level several notches. "I've finally gotten beyond a linear structure into something more complex, more elliptical. The dream sequences really work. I'm pretty happy with it.

He started shooting Super 8 in 1983 with a wind-up camera, graduating soon after to a $200 Elmo, and finally to a Beaulieu in 1988. "For me Super 8 is cheap," he states plainly. "It's a bit grainy, though, and if you want to shoot black and white you're very limited. You can't do dissolves, can't rewind, and since you're limited to 2-1/2 minutes per roll, you have to start playing tricks if you want to get longer shots. But it's cheap, and disposable. If a roll gets wasted it's not like it's hundreds of dollars out of your pocket.

"The other bad thing is that when you use Super 8 you're really under the thumb of one company. There's very few people that'll even touch it. Only one place in New York processes Super 8 black and white film. (Similarly, only one company here in Seattle provides Super 8 equipment, supplies and accessories: Section 8 Films. They also have on-site the full complement of post-production facilities including video transfer equipment.

"I sold a pint and washed some dishes to make a payment on our lighting debt . . . we sold our blood to make a vampire movie. " —Leif Jonker

Leif Jonke

Leif Jonker, late of Wichita, KA, whose recently completed horror film Darkness was just released to high acclaim, started writing scripts and pursuing filmmaking at a young age after seeing Alien and Friday the 13th with his dad at the local moviehouse. "I saw people screaming and jumping and hiding their eyes and that impressed me," he says. "It was before the video boom so I chose to work in Super 8 because of the cost, and financed my first film by selling acting parts to my friends. It turned out crude and rough, but had a little bit of style here and there, and a good flow. The thing I saw, though, were moments that looked as good as any movie. The image looked perfectly smooth and warm, with lots of depth. I realized much later that if I could put enough care into all my shots I'd be able to produce a whole movie of those moments, and no one would have to know I was using what was widely considered a home movie format.

Jonker is keenly aware of the stigma associated with Super 8, but remains unfazed. He says that just because people made sloppy home movies in the past does not mean it's not a valid format to shoot in. "True, you have more latitude and can salvage more in 16," he points out, "but that doesn't mean you can't make the Super 8 look just as good as the best of 16."

Another benefit of working in 8, according to Jonker, is the speed with which you can shoot your sequences. That, combined with the low cost and high picture quality, (when one takes the time to get it,) makes Super 8 his format of choice.

"A lot of people start working with the smaller format and start treating it like a lower format," he says. They don't put as much care into the setups and lighting, and as a result don't get the color, sharpness and vibrancy the format can give you. On the other end are the people who spend big money shooting 16 mm shorts, which don't prove to an investor that you can spearhead and complete a feature. Spending the same amount on a full-length Super 8 film, even though it's still a limited budget, shows them that you have the know-how and the drive to do an entire flick. I have people calling me from New York wanting me to fax out a synopsis of my next project because I have a real movie coming out on cassette."

Jonker shot Darkness, an extremely graphic but technically masterful vampire horror, over a four year period at a cost of $13,500. He signed a deal with Film Threat upon completion for a fair split of the gross profits, as opposed to the more common arrangement which would give him some money up front and then a dollar or so per cassette sold.

As for his commitment to completing the film, consider this: he and his partner, special effects whiz Gary Miller, raised much of the money to pay for post-production by selling their own blood. "Gary and I were selling our plasma on a weekly basis to pay rent on our little studio near the end. I sold a pint and washed some dishes to make my final payment on our lighting debt. Morbid, but true. We sold our blood to make a vampire movie."

"The (short) films I made in the '80s bring me $5-8000 a year...the market for this stuff never dries up if it's weird enough." —Richard Kern

Richard Kern

New Yorker Richard Kern uses Super 8 as a scriptless medium, usually working from a general idea, sometimes with the help of storyboards. Having made 40 or 50 features which he himself characterizes as unnecessarily violent, sexist and disgusting, and having profited handsomely from them (at least by Super 8 standards), he is focusing these days on still photography, much of it erotic.

Best known for his 1986 cult hit Fingered, which cost him $10,000 and featured punk diva Lydia Lunch, Kern foresaw the home video market and kept an eye out early for good people who would go on to do other things successfully. "I was lucky because I was working with Lydia Lunch for a while and she's pretty notorious and pretty famous all over the world. That connection helped a lot.

He has also worked with bands that have gone on to find success, such as Sonic Youth, Mite Zombie and Butthole Surfers. "I used a lot of rock 'n roll people in my stuff, made them kind of extreme, and self-distributed them by screening them publicly and advertising them in fanzines, underground mags and other rock-related things. I'd also travel around with these bands and be the opening act or something."

Once he got fed up with the rigors of self-distribution, he started talking to distributors, but not until Film Threat approached him did he find one he trusted.

Fingered, which was packaged along with seven other of his darker film efforts in one collection titled Hardcore, recouped him his costs within a year and is still selling through Film Threat. "It's grossed a fair amount, but I'd rather not say how much," he says. "I don't keep good records and would rather not have people get mad at me about how much money I made. But I will say this: the films I made six and seven years ago bring me in between five and $8,000 a year, and that's just what Film Threat is selling. The market for this stuff never dries up if it's weird and notorious enough. But they've gotta be good.

"I have a 'do it fast, do it now' attitude toward Super 8," he remarks. "You just gotta light it like you light a real movie. If you get a good image and a good transfer, nobody can really tell if it's 8, 16 or 35, especially if you transfer on a Rank system. Best thing about it, though, is the mobility factor." MM