The film is then ready to be played again. Strong, clear tape joins the ends together without a gap, and the stamper presses new sprocket perforations through the tape. You take the broken film, cut out the frame exactly where the break occurred, then place the two ends of the strip together in the machine. It’s called a guillotine splicer, and it looks like a cross between a Sellotape dispenser and an embossing stamp. But I soon learned that it was no disaster, because you can use the same clever little machine to mend broken filmstrips as you do to cut and splice film in the traditional editing process. I used to work regularly with old reel-to-reel films, and the first time one of them snapped I was aghast. But sometimes, if the film is old or damaged or the reel is very heavy, the strain will be too great and the friable celluloid suddenly snaps.

Once threaded, the film can then be started and stopped as needed by using a lever. Finally, the strip is teased around another course of rollers and fixed to the empty receiving reel.

Arms clack into place, holding the strip in front of the bulb while a mirrored prism reflects the illuminated image onto the small viewing screen. With the reel placed flat on the left-hand friction plate, you thread the filmstrip carefully around a pinball-like maze of rollers and sprockets. L acing up a Steenbeck editing desk to watch a reel of 35mm film is a delicate process.

Dilla Time by Dan Charnas