One of the most glaring omissions in my camera collection was some sort of 6×7 medium format model. I’d been intrigued by what I’d heard about the Mamiya RB67, and started keeping my eyes open for one. When I saw one for sale at National Camera Exchange, I decided the time was right to jump. What I discovered in the process is without question the quirkiest camera I’ve yet had the pleasure of using.
The Back Story
One of the coolest things about medium format is that there are so many ways to make use of the real estate. My first medium format camera, the Pentax 645, uses the most economical frame size — 6×4.5 (nominal size in centimeters). It’s capable of shooting fifteen (15) of those frames on a single roll of 120 film; other 6×4.5 cameras will do sixteen (16) frames per roll. (The difference requires explanation not too relevant to this review.)
Certainly, 6×4.5 produces better quality images than you can manage with comparable 135 (“35mm”) film (they’re roughly 2.7x bigger), but if you’re going for quality, bigger is better, and the very common 6×6 images of a typical TLR or Hasselblad provide that — while also offering an interesting square format image that you either love or hate, it seems.
But then there are the other options: 6×7, 6×9, and some variations that are even larger. 6×7 doesn’t give that much more real estate to the image itself than 6×6 — it’s only about 17% bigger. When you get to 6×9, it’s roughly the same size as “2×3” large format (which is in most cases 2¼x3¼), so if bigger really is better, well, you just keep buying cameras apparently** — or at least that’s what I’ve done. (As I write this review, I’m waiting for the delivery of my first 4×5 large format camera.) In any case, here’s a visual comparison
Beyond the image size, however, I was interested in the cameras that expose these enlarged images, and with 6×7, one of the most affordable and most highly regarded of the lot is the Mamiya RB67. It seemed the right choice for me, given that I wasn’t sure how I’d warm-up to the camera, or how much I’d use it once I had one.
I’m always browsing brick-and-mortar camera stores both locally and when I travel, as well as the major online shops. It was during one of those sessions that I saw the listing for my RB67 at National Camera Exchange (“NatCam”) in Minneapolis. The photos of the camera seemed to show it as being in sufficiently good condition, and NatCam is good about returns, so I figured I didn’t have much to lose.
The only issue is that the camera came with a prism finder, and I wasn’t all that keen on that idea. Thankfully, NatCam also had a waist-level finder for the RB67, and while it was priced a little higher than I think it should have been, I decided to spring for it as well.
The only missing ingredient was a lens — any lens — since NatCam’s RB didn’t come with one. I called around, I looked around, and literally the only thing I could readily find outside of eBay (most of which located in Japan) was a 180 mm fixed focal length RB lens from Roberts’ used store (UsedPhotoPro) out of Indiana. The price was incredibly low, so I decided that the otherwise too-long-a-focal-length lens would have to do for the moment while I continued the search for a suitable standard lens.
I came home from a recent trip to California to find both parcels waiting for me at the Post Office.
The RB67 body looked OK, but perhaps not as great as the photographs NatCam posted would suggest. One advantage of NatCam is that they do post photos of the actual item — unlike some, which post “representative images.” So it’s sort of incumbent upon the purchaser to look carefully at the images, and make sure that if you’re concerned about cosmetics, it’s up to snuff.
When I put it all together, I knew I’d made the right decision by getting the waist level finder as well. The prism finder for the RB67 is absolutely enormous, and quite heavy. To be honest, I can’t imagine holding the camera up to my eye to take a shot each and every time; it’s just big, heavy and awkward. There may be situations where it’ll come-in handy, such as on a tripod for a studio or other fixed position shot, but this is a camera that truly begs to be used with a waist level finder, and like other Mamiya cameras, that finder works and folds nicely and easily.
To be honest, most cameras I buy are actually pretty filthy by my personal standards. As a result, one of the first steps for any used camera or accessory purchase of mine is to take it to my workshop, and give it a good, meticulous cleaning. After this process — which for the RB67 took a few hours — the camera actually seemed to look pretty good. It needed a lot of spots of touch-up paint on the body to address the usual wear areas, and the film advance lever on the film back was sticky and didn’t want to auto-return. A partial disassembly of that piece, some cleaning, and just the very slightest touch of machine oil in just the right spot got that working like new again.
When all that work was done, I was pleased, except for one thing: the light seals.
I anticipated that, and immediately ordered a complete set of seal and rotating adapter seals from Gray at USCamera (see my directory). While I waited, I began the process of digging out the old seals, and cleaning the channels where they were located. It was a chore — a dirty, time-consuming, pain-in-the-butt chore. But I’ve been down this road before, and knew what to expect. There are no shortcuts; you just dig in, and deal with it. (I’ll eventually have a full blog post about this process.)
With the seal gunk removed, I decided to throw caution to the wind and shoot my first test roll with the RB67 and the 180 mm lens. For the job, I loaded a roll of Fomapan 100. As I might well could have expected, it did have a light leak that cast a light strip across the film side-to-side. In some images it’s not particularly noticeable, but it’s there. It’s hardly detectable at all in these:
Despite the light leaks, I did prove that both the camera and the lens work properly, and they take really nice images!
The 180 mm lens was not intended to become my standard lens; 90 mm is typical for this camera, and that’s truly what I wanted for routine use. Searching all the usual suspects (most of which are somewhere on my directory page) I came-up completely dry. I’ve written often about how little I like eBay, and how little I like risking money buying things there, but a Japanese seller had a 90 mm lens for sale that appeared to be in good condition, was advertised as “near mint,” and was promised as having no scratches, haze, fungus, separation, dust or other issues. The price was US$150, plus U$35 shipping. I decided that if the lens was as-stated, it was worth the price, and I bit — hoping that the leaf shutter was still in good condition as well.
Just eight days later, the lens was in my hands, and it was everything it was promised to be. In fact, the lens shows barely any signs of ever being used; a couple of small wear marks in the anodized finish is about it. The shutter speeds appear to be smooth and on the money. I didn’t have the lens shutter times tested, but at this point, I’ve experienced enough gummed-up leaf shutters to know when there’s an issue, and this one runs smoothly, even when the lens is cold. That’s a very good sign; having that dealt with could have been expensive.
Still, I needed to replace those light seals, and as it happens, USCamera is just a few miles away from me here in Colorado, so the seals arrived in a couple of days. Installing them is time-consuming and tedious, but it’s not particularly complicated.
With the stnadard lens I wanted, and the light seals replaced, it was time to get some more shots under my belt with this unit. More on those results later; for now, let’s talk about the camera more generally.
The Camera
The Mamiya RB67 Professional was first released in 1970, and most sources state that the Mamiya RB67 was originally designed to complement and extend the Mamiya C-Series TLR (twin-lens reflex) camera range, and their very specific methods of use, as well as classic 6×6 image size. I think the owner’s manual for the RB67 says it best, however, and mentions another member of the family, Mamiya’s unusual press cameras:
The Mamiya RB67 is one member of a unique “camera family” developed by the Mamiya Camera Company, a recognized world leader in large-format photography. The RB67 takes its place alongside the famous Mamiya C Professional and the Mamiya Press Cameras.
We don’t tend to think of 120 film as “large format” these days, but I’m sure Mamiya’s point was that these cameras — the entire family — were not mere 35mm cameras.
Regardless, the original 1970 model set the tone for the whole RB67 (and later, the RZ67) series cameras. It was manufactured for just four years, at which point — in 1974 — it was replaced by the RB67 Professional S, which is the camera I have, and which is the subject of this review. This second camera in the series was manufactured for 15 years, until 1989, which is a pretty long run for a single, unchanged model of camera. As a result, according to most sources, the Pro S is the most abundant of the RB67 cameras on the used market. (Camera Wiki has more details on the RB if you’re interested.)
It’s worth noting at this point that RB stands for rotating back — more on that in a moment — and of course, 67 refers to the image frame size (nominally 6x7cm). Together, it’s RB67.
In any case, I think that without question, the RB67 Pro S is the quirkiest, strangest and heaviest camera that I currently own. It’s not that all the quirks are that strange or completely unique, it’s just to find all the quirks and weirdness in this one package makes it fairly strange to use. Let’s start with the back of the camera, and move our way forward.
Back of the Camera
At the back is, literally, the back — as in film back. I’ve personally seen and used two different styles of film back.
- The first is basically a box and dark slide, into which a film insert is placed. This is the style used by the Hasselblad V-System, and Mamiya’s second-generation M645 cameras, among others.
- The second is also a two-piece system, but the pieces are configured differently. There’s a frame and a U-shaped door, and there’s the insert that also includes the top and bottom of the assembled back, as well as the film winder, and frame counter. This is what the RB67 uses, and it’s virtually identical in design to the Horseman 6×9 film back with 4×5 Graflok mount, which I use on my Graflex Pacemaker 45 Crown Graphic.
If you’re used to only the first type, the second may take some getting used to, because it doesn’t really work quite as easily as the first. And like the rest of the camera, it’s big and bulky, but I’d hardly label it as difficult or fussy.
In any case, to remove the insert part, you open the film back by pulling a latch, and the back door will swing open, allowing you to remove the combination insert/top/bottom. That door contains the left, right and back-most surfaces of the overall film back assembly, and is attached to a frame.
Of course, with the insert/top/bottom in-place, the door closed, and the latch manually pushed back in, the entire closed-up back can be removed from the rest of the camera, obviously with its dark slide intact. To do that, two sliding latches, one on either side, are moved to the open position, and the back can merely be lifted away.
The Locks
Speaking of those sliding latches, they are a Graflok 2×3 system. I am not an expert on the subject, and I find Mamiya’s descriptions of it all to be fairly confusing, but the company has four different attachment systems for the back, known as R-lock, G-lock, P-lock, and M-lock.
From old Mamiya sales materials, it was depicted like this:
They have different purposes, all of which are probably obvious from that illustration, but with a little more detail are as follows:
- R-lock must surely be named for the RB, and is the attachment system on the camera body itself. It’s used to connect the revolving adapter (or “RA” — see below) to the body.
- G-lock is named for Graflok, and is the connection used to attach the RB’s film back to the RA. As I mentioned, it is a Graflok 2×3 (or simply “Graflok 23”) compatible attachment system, the one used by many “baby” Graflex Graphic cameras. I’ve certainly not done it, but the idea is that other Graflok backs could be directly attached to the RB67, including 2×3 large format sheet film backs.
- P-lock is named for Polaroid, and a P-adapter is first mounted to the RA, then that allows connection of P-lock attachments. Those attachments include a Polaroid film back, or, an M-adapter, of which there are two types, one vertical and one horizontal.
- M-lock is named for Mamiya, I have to believe, and is the attachment system used by most of the Mamiya Press cameras by default. With the P-adapter attached to the RA, and an M-adapter attached to the P-adapter, you can use Mamiya Press film backs with the RB67.
I have no idea how Mamiya managed to design all these locks and adapters and film backs in such a way as to ensure that the film plane was in precisely the same spot across the board — necessary for accurate focusing — but apparently they pulled that off somehow.
Mercury Camera has a very detailed write-up on the Graflok 23 system, including how Mamiya utilized it, and it’s an interesting deep-dive read if you want to know more.
Revolving Adapter (RA)
In any case, moving forward on the camera, you find the “RA” — or revolving adapter. I don’t personally know of another camera with this feature, but the RA lets you twist the film back into either a horizontal (landscape) orientation, or a vertical (portrait) orientation. So instead of trying to wrestle this heavy, awkward beast to change frame orientation, you just rotate the back instead. It’s novel, it’s clever, it works — and it’s weird. But if this camera was intended mostly for studio use, it’s a great way to keep the camera on the tripod but still choose your frame orientation.
One of the things I find weird about it is that in portrait (vertical) orientation, the dark slide pulls out from the bottom of the camera, which is fairly awkward in the field. On the up side, while the camera doesn’t have a dark slide holder in the conventional sense, the slide does slide into a space on the left side of the body (from the photographer’s view). There’s a lip toward the back of the body and one on the cold shoe; the slide can be placed there while the camera’s in-use.
Camera Body
Next up, the camera body itself — and I can’t think of a bulkier, heavier camera body. It is, simply put, huge. It’s about 5″ (12.7 cm) high and across, and 4.25″ (10.8 cm) front to back, and that’s just the body; it does not count either the lens, or the film back. With its standard 90 mm prime lens, the RA, and film back all attached, it becomes 9″ (22.9 cm) from the front of the lens to the back of the film back. In short, it’s a beast.
On the left side of the body is a cold shoe. On the right, the most obnoxiously large lever I’ve ever seen on a camera — the shutter cock. The lever actually cocks not only the shutter, but the mirror, according to the owner’s manual. The quirky part of this, apart from its sheer size, is that after you take a shot, you have to use one lever to advance the film, and another to cock the shutter, before you can snap another shot. They say that shooting film forces you to slow down, but nobody ever mentioned the fact that the camera itself can play a role in this.
Much like you find on a Mamiya C-Series TLR, on either side of the body, at the bottom, you have two large knobs. This is what you use for focusing, as opposed to a ring on the lens. On the left side is a focus lock lever to fix into place whatever focus setting you have at the moment. As you may have guessed, like the C-Series, that means the the RB67 is equipped with bellows. Fully extended, the bellows add a little over 4″ (10.8 cm to be exact) to the overall length of the camera front to back, and allow the lens to be focused much closer to the subject than would be possible with most cameras.
With the 90 mm lens, for example, I can focus on something as close as 8″ (20.3 cm) from the front the lens. That’s pretty impressive, honestly. The closeness depends on the focal length of the lens; longer focal lengths can’t get anywhere near that close. A scale on the right side of the camera as you extend the bellows provides a chart that approximates the distance, while also providing details of the 1/2 or 1 stop exposure corrections that may be necessary when doing closeups. Users of the C-Series TLRs will find this very familiar; the only difference is that on the RB67, you need no parallax correction, since it’s obviously a single lens, not a twin lens, reflex camera.
Viewfinders
On the top of the body is the viewfinder system. As I mentioned earlier, my camera came with a prism finder — an obnoxiously big piece of kit that adds considerable weight. By “considerable,” I mean 2 lbs., 1.5 oz., which is just shy of a kilogram at 948 g. The waist-level finder is about 7 oz. (195 g), which is quite a weight savings.
Part of the issue is that the focusing screen on these cameras is a whopping 2-5/8″ (6.7 cm) square, and the viewfinders have to cover that entire area. There are different focusing screens that were available for the RB, and mine has a split prism in the center, which I appreciate. As always, your eye has to be perfectly centered on it for it to work, and long focal lengths and other variables can make it harder to use. But that enormous focusing screen makes focusing easy even when the split prism portion is giving you fits with eye alignment.
Back to finder itself; beyond the weight savings, I find the camera much more natural to use with a waist-level viewfinder. Its size is perhaps one of my favorite things about this camera, however. Composing an image with this huge finder is a fun experience like no other. It feels like you can see everything, you can see it clearly. It has a pop-up magnifier of course, which is also huge. It is, simply put, an absolute joy to use.
It’s worth nothing that no matter which viewfinder you choose, the camera will automatically indicate the orientation of the shot in the focusing screen. Dashed black guidelines are permanently visible that show the vertical (portrait) image area. When you twist the film back to horizontal (landscape) mode, a mechanical linkage causes two red bars appear under the focusing screen, showing you the borders of that image area, while serving as a visual notification of which way you’ve got things set-up.
The Front
Finally, the business end of the beast, as they say: the front of the body and lens. On the lower-right (photographer’s perspective; lower-left if you look from the front) is the shutter release button, which is lockable. The lens mount is there too, of course. At first, I found the lens mounting system in this camera to be pretty weird, because I’d never encountered one that worked this way, but I quickly understood and got used to it. It uses a locking ring system, with the ring itself on the lens barrel. To remove a lens, you unscrew the lock ring (anti-clockwise as you look from the front) while holding the lens, and you can just lift it away. Bring the new one in, hold it, and tighten the ring.
It’s worth noting that the ring is also used to secure the lens back cap. When using the camera in the field, that fact makes it more difficult to swap lenses; one truly needs three hands, and yet another reason, no doubt, that people seem to think of this camera as a studio camera.
In any event, the design of the lenses on the RB is, frankly, weird — and totally in keeping with the weirdness of the rest of the camera. The length of them varies, of course, but the basic design and shape is the same.
Working from the back (camera body) to the front, the first ring on the lens barrel is the locking ring. Next up is the aperture ring. RB lenses seem to be quite good, but they’re not especially bright; the widest aperture lens made for the camera was just f/3.5. My 90mm is f/3.8, while my 180mm is f/4.5. You can find a reasonably authoritative lens guide (along with other RB info) on this web site.
The next ring is for the shutter speed, which goes up to a minimum of 1/400th of a second. At the low end is not a bulb setting, but a time setting, labeled T on the ring. If you want long exposures, you’ll need to get used to it, but essentially when set to T, you trigger the shutter, and it will stay open until you rotate the shutter speed ring away from the T setting. To avoid blurring, you’ll need to be certain to replace the lens cap, or place a sheet of black paper or your hand in front of the lens, then rotate the ring off of that T detent. A time setting isn’t unique, but while I’m sure there are others, I’ve never personally seen a camera without a traditional bulb setting that holds the shutter open as long as you keep the button pressed. As I said, this is camera is a whole bag of quirky.
The next example of the said quirks is the depth-of-field scale. The front-most rotating thing on the lens is this scale, and it’s parallel to the lens itself, not 90° away as lens rings normally are. You can rotate this scale, slide-rule style, to show the distance to your subject, then read from the aperture setting what the range of the depth-of-field is. It is, simply put, odd.
The end of the RB lenses is flared; the go inward to show that depth-of-field scale, then back out again, and in profile, it’s just bizarre to look at vs. conventional, fully cylindrical lenses you are likely accustomed to. I suppose the advantage is that when you see an RB lens sitting on the shelf of a used gear retailer, you immediately know what you’re looking at.
The Experience
Using the RB67 has actually been a lot of fun, and the camera takes amazing images. Not surprising, really, considering that they’re about 60% larger than 6×4.5, and over four times larger than 135 (35 mm) film.
Loading film is not any more of a chore than in any medium format camera, which is to say, it’s sort of a pain, but not difficult. The funky design of the film back, described earlier, sometimes feels like it’d be a lot easier with three hands, but at the end of the day, not really more so than any other camera. Multiple backs would solve the problem in the field, but the other issue is that the film insert can easily just fall right out of the back when the door is opened; something you do with some care.
Using the camera is straightforward, and my only true complaint about it is one I’ve already mentioned: The camera is heavy. Very heavy. With the 180 mm lens attached, and with the prism finder attached, the camera weighs nearly 8 lbs. That’s over 3.5 kg, and it’s a lot to have dangling by a strap around your neck. Some reviewers have said that as a result, this is more a studio camera than a field camera, and indeed, most sources indicate it was designed for studio photographers very specifically. That may well be true, but I don’t see any reason to limit its use to studio settings, but then, I have no qualms with heavy cameras in general.
Sure, it’s not very amenable to things like street photography, where the camera would be about as discrete as wearing a thong to Starbucks during the morning coffee rush. That said, I just don’t find it that obnoxious to carry around with me. Would I want to spend a day with it at Disneyland? Not really. But for most situations where I’m apt to take a film camera along with me, I just don’t really have that much of an issue with either its weight, or its size.
As you spend time with the camera over the course of a shoot, unless you intend to stick with a single lens choice, you’ll eventually discover that swapping lenses in the field is a bit challenging. You need to make sure you have a way to remove and completely pack away the current lens before you even get the replacement lens out of your bag; there’s no way to change lenses on an RB67 with one hand, as you can on many 35 mm cameras for example, largely due to the big locking ring. It takes two hands to unlock it, and two to lock it back on. Rather like the film loading, having a third hand would be quite useful with the RB.
One thing I especially like about the RB67 is what it has in-common with its sibling C220 and C330 (and earlier TLR) cameras: bellows, and a great big focus knob on either side of the body. Once you meter the scene and dial-in the aperture and shutter speed on the lens, you don’t have to worry about putting your fingers on the wrong lens ring (which I seem to do regularly with my M645 1000S) since focusing isn’t on the lens barrel at all.
It’s not the RB’s fault, but as with any camera that has a dark slide, I very often find myself unable to take a shot when I want to because so much can be missed, starting with the failure to remove the dark slide prior to trying to take a picture. But there’s a lot more. Was the film advanced after the last shot? Did you remember to cock the shutter with that enormous lever? Did you accidentally (or intentionally) lock the shutter button? I think I get it all right about 50% of the time — at best.
The Accessories
Talking about accessories is a standard element of my reviews, but in this particular case, there’s not much more to add to what I’ve already had to say about this camera. But let’s review and add perhaps a little more color.
- Viewfinders
I’ve already covered this, but I think it’s worth emphasizing that the RB67 seems much more natural to use with a waist-level finder than a prism finder. Aside from the weight it adds to the camera all by itself, the already heavy and bulky RB is just not that pleasant to try and lift to your eye in the field in order to use a prism finder. With the WLF, you can let the camera dangle a bit from its strap; bring it up with the magnifier to fine-tune the focus, then compose with the camera in waist position. It’s quicker, easier, and simpler. There are other options available too, including chimneys and meter (PD) finders.
- Lenses
Mamiya made a number of lenses for the RB67 series, but as I said above, none of them is particularly bright. You can find a list on the Camera Wiki entry for the camera. There were four series of lenses for the RB family; original, C, K/L and L. In short, the RB67 Pro-SD modified the RB mount slightly, and the L lenses will work only on that model, while K/L lenses have an adapter ring that can be removed to work on the earlier RB bodies. I’ve not chosen to go lens crazy with mine; I may add a wider angle lens at some point, but so far, I’ve found the 90 mm and 180 mm lenses I have to be more than adequate for my own needs. Broadly, prices for the RB lenses are pretty reasonable, but there don’t seem to be tons of them floating around in the US. And given that these are all leaf shutter lenses, there’s some risk in buying them sight unseen (true of any lens, I suppose). It’s worth noting that as with most lens systems, extension tubes are available as well to enable very close-up focusing if the bellows are not sufficient.
- Backs and Adapters
Already covered previously, the RB67 uses a Graflok system on the RA, which enables you to attach — sometimes with one of the adapters I already mentioned — a number of different film backs and holders. The Camera Wiki article (link under “lenses” above) details some of the many options in more detail. - Grips
There are grips available for the RB67 as well, much as Mamiya made for the M645 series. As is the case for my 1000S, a grip would very likely make the prism finder considerably easier and more convenient to use — but it wouldn’t negate the sheer bulk and weight of the camera.
The Results
Where the rubber meets the road is what type of images a camera is capable of capturing, and as I’ve said previously in this review, the RB67 is a pretty impressive picture-taker.
Beyond the examples provided earlier, here are a few favorites from my RB67:
The Specifications
From the RB67 manual:
Measurements — Camera Body with Roll Film Holder
Height: 5-21/32in. (144mm)
Width: 4-3/32in. (104mm)
Length: 8-31/32in. (228mm) (with 90mm f/3. 8 lens)
Length: 8-17/321n. (217mm) (with 127mm f/3.8 lens)
Weights
Camera body with revolving adapter and focusing hood 3 lbs., 3-2/16 oz. (1450g)
Pro-S roll film holder 15-14/16 oz. (450g)
90mm f/3.8 lens 28-6/16 oz. (805g)
127mm f/3.8 lens 26-7/16 oz. (750g)
Footnotes
** Obviously, many cameras shoot multiple formats with simple back and/or image mask changes, and there are cameras — such as the Rolleicord Va and Vb — which have kits available that contain replacement film advance mechanisms and masks to shoot other sizes. But yeah, generally, one camera, one size.
Update: October 21, 2021
Minor corrections to certain items.
