Film isn’t dead, and that’s a good thing

It was April 2022. Coachella was in full swing. My roommates and I, clad in glitter and our finest outfits, were prepared for what was obviously going to be the best three days of our lives — or, at least, everyone else was going to believe it was. After sipping seltzers and snapping photos, we headed to the festival. 

It was an exhausting euphoria, but a euphoria nonetheless. Many of my favorite artists collected into one place, and it was an excuse to show everyone how great I looked. What could be better? For many, Coachella is less about its sonic experience than about how it presents itself on Instagram. 

This preoccupation with sharing the experience online was something of which I was well aware and in which I was actively participatory. That was, until I headed to the stage for Phoebe Bridgers’ set and realized my phone had been snatched. Having left my computer at USC, I remarked with horror that I would be off the grid for 72 hours. How was I going to contact my family? What if I lost my friends? But most importantly, how would I capture how great of a time I was having? 

The first two problems were quickly alleviated, with my roommate promising me use of her phone for a quick text to my parents that I wasn’t dead and that we would remain together. As for the latter, I remembered that also in my pack was my prized possession: my Canon Z-135 film camera. 

In 2007, Apple released the iPhone, beginning the shift of a ubiquitous ability to have a little functioning computer in your pocket. With each release of their newest version, there were marked improvements in its technology, particularly with the camera. With each of these updates, carrying a separate camera became increasingly obsolete for everyone except professional photographers. This trend, combined with the ongoing shift to digital media, was seemingly the nail in the coffin for analog photography. In 2012, photography legend Kodak even filed for bankruptcy. 

Yet, despite what seemed like the end, film is back and better than ever. Starting in 2014, film distributors have seen a comeback of the film market. Hashtags like #filmisnotdead continue to trend (over 23 million posts on Instagram) and film cameras have risen in price. Whether it’s because of the aesthetic of film photos, a longing for the past or a combination of some of these or any other factor, one can only speculate. However, film photography’s resurgence is, in today’s sphere, a needed exercise of an increasingly infrequent occurrence of delayed gratification. 

We live in an age where everything is instant. Craving Chipotle? With a few taps of a screen, a burrito bowl is at your door in 30 minutes. Feeling lonely or sexually deprived? A few lucky right swipes and you can be at someone’s door by the end of the night. In California, there are even multiple apps for cannabis delivery. 

This phenomenon extends past Postmates and Tinder. This need for immediacy is extremely prevalent in the ability to snap a plethora of digital photos and the desire of many to perform perfection on digital platforms. With the capacity to snap 100 photos in 10 seconds, we find ourselves scrutinizing and analyzing every single angle and contortion of one’s body and face, in an effort to seek out the perfect shot to match that of those in your feed of any and everyone else.

Even apps that attempt to combat this, particularly the smash popular app BeReal, has lent itself to performance. What is seemingly the imposed shame of posting late or of letting people know what you’re doing at a more opportune moment, does not seem to faze users who would rather let others into their life when they’re looking better and being much more interesting. Sentiments of “Ugh, I wish my BeReal notification was going off NOW” echo this desire of perfect performance, of a need to constantly be interesting in order to deliver a more appealing message of one’s life. 

Film photography combats all of that. With a limited number of photos per roll (24 or 36 for refillable point and shoot, and 27 or 36 for disposable cameras), the medium lends itself to only capturing one photo per moment. Furthermore, the lack of instancy — the need to wait and see what the photos look like — allows one to simply exist in the moment they are in without a need to analyze their actions and appearance through how it manifests in a JPEG. It allows one to capture a moment and see how it looks later on, as opposed to instantly, while simultaneously creating excitement for when photos are later developed.

In a world which revolves around instant gratification and how we appear digitally, film photography is a tool that concurrently combats the need for perfection and immediacy. My Coachella weekend truly did end up being one of the best of my life, mainly in part to not spending the weekend watching the festival through other’s photos. I was fully immersed in the experience. It was my own, for my eyes and for the sparse moments captured by my Canon only.