When you think of Japanese SLR camera makers from the film camera era, you probably think of Nikon, Canon, Pentax, and Minolta. Perhaps also Olympus, Yashica, Fuji, Ricoh, Mamiya, or Konica as well. Maybe it even stretches to the obscure, like Cosina or Chinon. But seemingly, almost nobody recognizes another Japanese company that made an interesting mark in the history books: Petri. Originally known as Kuribayashi, Petri was initially the name of a camera model, but later adopted by Kuribayashi as (ostensibly) a more market-friendly name for the company itself. In 2022 when I became enamored of 35mm SLRs and wanted to try pretty much anything that looked interesting, I saw, and purchased, a Petri 35mm camera, what I know as a Petri V VI, but often referred to as the V6, Petri Flex V6, Petri Penta V6, and other variations. After putting a couple of rolls through my beautiful example of the type, I decided it’s high time for a review.
The Back Story
To the extent that most people might know the Petri name, it’s likely not for its SLRs, but rather the semi-cultish compact rangefinders that the company made, such as the Petri 7S pictured below. Known for their excellent optics, these cameras might not fetch the sorts of prices on today’s used market as certain Canon Canonet models, but nevertheless seem to sell for a slight premium over the myriad other Japanese rangefinders that blanketed the market in the 1950s and 60s. What strikes me, personally, about the Petri rangefinders is that an unusually large percentage of them have selenium-cell exposure meters onboard that actually still function perfectly after all these decades. The majority of selenium-cell meters in vintage cameras more generally simply don’t work any longer, or are not even remotely accurate anymore. What Petri did differently from other manufacturers isn’t clear, but it’s fascinating to me.
Be that as it may, Petri (as Petri, and as Kuribayashi prior) produced many other cameras, including 35mm SLRs, simple viewfinder cameras, and various medium format models — most of which were produced in smaller numbers than Petri’s contemporaries. I wouldn’t use the “rare” moniker, but compared to Canon, Nikon, Minolta, etc., they’re not that plentiful in the used market.
The Petri SLRs got my attention for a few different reasons. One was their unique appearance; they do more or less adhere to the standard Japanese SLR design template, but their interesting angles, body-front shutter release placement, and a unique “under the hood” design that uses a cam shaft to drive the shutter mechanism — which also gives the cameras a unique sound, and feel. The cameras also have their own unique lens mount, dramatically limiting the choice of lenses, which is something that no doubt puts a lot of people off.
My particular Petri came from a ShopGoodwill purchase in November 2022, for a whopping US$17, which given its excellent condition overall, struck me as a bargain. While there are tiny spots of corrosion on the top plate, it’s minor, and apart from that, the camera is in excellent condition cosmetically and operationally, with a smooth action, and accurate shutter speeds.
The Camera
Before I get into the camera itself, I feel compelled to talk about its model name. I refer to this camera as a “Petri V VI” primarily because it’s precisely what the label on the camera body says it is. To wit:
The author(s) of the Camera Wiki article on the Petri Penta family (see it here) clearly has a different perspective, referring to it as the “Petri Penta V6/Petri Flex V6” despite the words “Penta” and “Flex” not being shown anywhere on the camera body. (I’ve not tried very hard, but I also didn’t find any other examples of the camera labeled that either.) Of course, we then have the owner’s manual, as presented by a well-known manual source, that shows it as the Petri V6. Still other places seem to want to call this camera a Petri Revue V6, and one can easily find examples of this camera labeled precisely that, and which are otherwise identical to my camera.
I can’t explain the variations, nor have I tried to research it. But it would appear that Petri itself couldn’t land on a consistent name, and/or perhaps it varied by the market into which it was sold. Regardless, it appears that cameras with any of these variations are the same as the subject camera of this review.
Whatever you want to call it, what does seem accurate would be to describe this camera as a very basic SLR, one that’s typical of the SLRs you might find from other manufacturers in the mid-1960s. (The Petri V VI is reportedly from 1965.) By “basic,” I mean that it has an interchangeable lens. It has a self-timer. It has a frame counter. It has a narrow range of shutter speeds (in this case, just ten positions: B, 1/2, 1/4, 1/8, 1/15, 1/30, 1/60, 1/125, 1/250, and 1/500). It has a straightforward kit lens, in my case, a 50mm f/2. And that’s about it in terms of its feature set.
Basic or not, based on pricing shown in vintage ads, it would appear that the Petri V VI sold, with lens, for the equivalent in today’s money of about US$1,500. That’s not a small chunk of change.
Most 1960s SLRs are thought of as “boat anchors” because they’re both large, and heavy, due to their relatively crude design and construction, as well as the almost exclusive use of metal parts. At first blush, the Petri V VI would appear to fall into that category, and indeed, it is somewhat bulky based on its looks. Looks can be deceiving, however. One of the two rolls of film I’ve run through the camera was done in tandem with the film testing of a Nikon FE — built 13 years after the Petri. The Nikon is a much more compact camera and makes extensive use of plastics, but it’s only 145 grams (about 5 ounces) lighter; the Petri (with lens) weighs-in at 865 grams (1 pound, 14.5 ounces) while the Nikon FE (with lens) weighs 720 grams (1 pound, 9.4 ounces). Saying the Petri is 20% heavier is true, but in practice, 145 grams isn’t much, and having both cameras hanging around my neck at the same time was hardly a burden — let alone either one separately.
The Experience
I’ll cut to the chase here: Using the Petri V VI was a joy. Yes, it’s an astoundingly simple camera. No bells. No whistles. That means no meter, no extended speeds, nothing shown in the viewfinder except the view itself, nothing to turn on or turn off, no modes to select, no exposure compensation… Just the absolutely necessities to take a picture. And it does that one, singular task with finesse.
The Petri has a certain something, and I can’t pin-down precisely what it is. The action is affirmative and sure; you press the shutter release button, and the camera makes a noticeable and clear sound that lets you know you did something. And winding it is equally sure and satisfying in both sound and feel. The best analogy I can come-up with is that it’s like driving a really nice but spartan vintage car, one with a good engine and a stick shift; there’s sort of a bond with the driving experience you get from that. It’s not that a more modern car with an automatic transmission, and all the creature comforts is a bad thing, it’s just two completely different experiences, and each one has something to offer — depending on your personal preferences, anyway.
I do believe that some of it derives from the cam shaft drive in the camera. In a word, the mechanism is really quite different from other SLRs, and since the sound and feel are as well, I don’t think it’s far-fetched to see a connection between the two. Regardless, the Petri V VI is the sort of camera I could shoot all day long, and be happy to have the opportunity to do so.
Given that this camera is (so far) the only Petri SLR that I own, I can’t really vouch for this, but some sources online say that the cam shaft drive of the Petri is subject to premature wear, and that the cameras are not as likely to be particularly long-lived. Perhaps so. All I can say with certainty is that nearly 60 years on, my example is operating flawlessly, and is giving no indication whatsoever that any change in that performance is imminent.
The main drawback of the Petri as I see it is the proprietary lens mount. It limits you to Petri’s own lenses, and with just one data point — the lens on my own camera — it’s hard to say, but it appears that Petri made some really nice lenses. I’m not one who believes that lens quality is proportional to the lens’s maximum aperture, so I don’t really care that my camera’s standard lens is an f/2; it does the job, and as you’ll see in the results below, it not only does the job, but it does a great job.
The Accessories
I currently own no accessories for the Petri V VI apart from an ever-ready case, but according to the owner’s manual, the company produced the usual sorts of things:
- Cases
- Filters
- Lens hoods
- Angle finders
- Extension tube sets
- Extension bellows
- Teleconverters
And, of course, a range of lenses, although not an especially broad one: The manual lists the usual suspects in primes (28mm, 35mm, 135mm, 200mm, 300mm, 400mm) and a couple of zooms. Of course, there are the standard kit lenses too, and while my camera has a 55mm f/2 as I noted earlier, I’ve also seen 55mm f/1.8 lenses on the used market. Regardless, the choices are quite narrow, and they aren’t all that readily available — something to consider if you have aspirations of taking images that need wide angle or long lenses.
The Results
My maiden roll in the Petri V VI was shot almost entirely with a Vivitar 283 flash, which I assumed to be in operational condition. It wasn’t. As a result, most of the shots on that roll were dramatically underexposed. A few taken without the flash did work out, and a couple are included below.
For the second roll through the Petri, I did an outing with it and a Nikon FE, taking the same pictures with both cameras loaded with 12-exposure, bulk-loaded rolls of Ilford’s Kentmere 100. Some of those are below as well.
The surprising result is that while I think both the Nikon and the much older Petri performed well, I honestly feel that the Petri’s images are slightly better. As I examine the original scans closely, the Petri’s images have a slight edge in terms of sharpness, as well as in terms of contrast. Given that both rolls of film were processed together, and the chemistry, agitation, temperature control, etc. were identical, and that the negatives were scanned with the same scanning and settings, it seems self-evident that the difference could only be the cameras involved. Or, more accurately, those cameras’ lenses.
In any case, on neither roll through the Petri did I exercise a terribly wide range of aperture settings to get a broader sense of the lens and its performance, but what I did take nevertheless impressed me, and given that it seems to have outperformed a much newer and legendary Nikon, if only slightly, I’m already itchy to put another roll of film through it to see if the results persist over time, in more circumstances, and with more films (including color). As I shoot more with the camera, I’ll update this review to include additional images.
But for the moment, I walk away from this experience with very positive impressions of this old, unusual, and not-terribly-well-known camera.
