Classic Cameras: Olympus Stylus Epic

Printed on the back of the camera is “ULTRA COMPACT 35mm CAMERA,” which is an apt descriptor of the Olympus Stylus Epic. However, this certainly isn’t a fully fleshed-out description of what this camera is, what it can do, or how well-received this camera has been since it was introduced in 1997. Known outside of North America as the μ[mju:]-II (or just “mju-II”), the Stylus Epic could be considered one of the cult classics of premium 35mm point-and-shoots. Compared to some of the other popular cameras from Contax, Yashica, Konica, Ricoh, and Nikon, though, this Olympus is a more modest, less ostentatious display of what is possible from a pocketable camera.

I know the Stylus Epic as the only film camera I ever bought brand new, in 2005. I believe I paid $70 for it, from a certain camera store in New York, while I was still an undergrad student, and thought of it as a perfect complement to my Mamiya 7 II and my Mamiya RB67. Oddly enough, it was also the first 35mm camera I ever bought, too. What originally drew me to is, back then, was the reputation of the 35mm f/2.8 lens. “It has legendary sharpness,” I was told. That, and friends talked about how quick it was to use, how it was weather sealed, and how well the flash worked. I had to have it, if just to contrast the slow-moving medium format systems in which I was invested.

The Stylus Epic has a unique, distinctively Olympus clamshell design that originated from its XA-series of cameras. Rather than having an on/off button or switch, the camera is turned on simply by sliding the front panel out of the way to reveal the lens. When you snap it shut, the camera is off and the lens is protected. This “snap” of a movement can be done one-handed, too… truly, everything can be done with one hand with this camera. That’s one of the reasons it’s so admired. On the top of the camera is a large silver shutter-release button. On the bottom, a tripod thread placed at the extreme right edge of the body, but who’s really using this camera on a tripod? The battery door is on the right side and the camera takes one CR123A 3V battery. At some point in the history of owning this camera, I managed to drop it precisely where the door latch is, and now I have to keep the battery door secured with a piece of tape. It still works fine. And on the back of the camera, there’s a small viewfinder, a small mono LCD for shooting information, a window to see the film type loaded, one button to control the flash setting, one button for the self-timer, and one smaller, recessed button to rewind the film mid-roll. That’s it. Nothing superfluous, nothing getting in the way, no way to change your shooting mode or your exposure setting. It’s one of the truest point-and-shoots there is, because all you can do is point and shoot.

When you dig a bit deeper, you can learn about a few more of the specifications of the camera, even though you can’t control or adjust them. It has a Multi AF system, which is described s an “active-type multi-beam autofocus system.” Having multiple beams must be a good thing, and even though I don’t really know what this means, in use, the AF has always been fast and reliable. Olympus claims this system works “even when the main subject isn’t in the center of the frame,” and that seems to be true. My favorite part of the focusing system is the AF lock, which can be intuitively engaged by just half-pressing and holding the shutter button. But even on occasions of shooting quickly, when I didn’t have time to look through the viewfinder, I’ve always been impressed by the focusing hit rate. This half-press also controls auto-exposure lock, so, assuming you want to meter from and focus on the same thing, this system works perfectly.

Speaking of the viewfinder, I quite enjoy the window finder on this camera. Yes, it’s small, but in use, it’s always been surprisingly accurate-ish. Its coverage likely doesn’t perfectly match the lens, but considering the on-the-fly type of shooting done with this camera, I’ve never had any issues. There is a crosshair that fills the finder, and then two small parallax-corrected compositional indicators on the top to indicate your frame when working at the minimum focusing distance of 1.1'. There are no other indicators in the finder, besides one LED that shines green to confirm focus and orange to confirm the flash will be used. Alternatively, I find myself about half the time just pointing the camera and shooting, without using the finder at all—it is a point-and-shoot, after all.

Another key element to the off-the-cuff look the Stylus Epic inspires is the built-in flash, which is one of the few things you can control on this camera. A small dedicated button on the back lets you cycle through specific flash modes, including Auto, Red-Eye, Fill, Off, and Night Scene. By default, though, the flash is set to Auto, and this brings up one of the main criticisms I, and many others, have with this camera; when the camera is turned off (when the front cover is shut) all of the settings return to automatic by default. So, if you are shooting with the flash mode set to Off and you close the camera, when you re-open it, the flash will be back to Auto. It’s a chore you get used to, having to press the flash mode button two times, if you don’t want to use the flash in low-light settings. I don’t tend to use the self-timer function, so having this reset doesn’t really bother me.

Finally, we get to the main reason so many people adore the Stylus Epic: its lens. It has a prime 35mm f/2.8 lens, which is notably faster than most lenses in this category. The 35mm focal length suits me better than the 28mm seen in some other similar cameras, and I like the fact that it’s a prime lens. It simplifies everything and makes for faster operation. The lens is also impressively sharp, especially considering it’s a tiny lens in a tiny camera body. The lens does extend outside of the camera body when focusing, but this only happens once the shutter button has been released. Otherwise, the lens stays retracted, allowing you to slide the cover closed immediately. There isn’t too much else to say about the lens–it’s as simple as the entire camera itself, and it’s something that works efficiently and without failure.

All of these components added together render something about as perfect as you could ask for from a camera of this size, this price, this efficient, and this available. It’s the type of camera that I’ve relied on many times over the years because I knew it’d be something that would always work. It’s predictable and seems to work exactly the way you’d like it to. The Stylus Epic has its limits, sure, but you should know these before diving head first into it. For me, even more than the lens or its size, I value its automated operation. For the situations in which I use this camera, I want to be photographing without having to think about anything. I don’t want to toil with focus, aperture, setting the film speed, manually loading and rewinding the film, and et cetera. I have several other cameras that require that, but I only have this one camera for fully automated, in-the-moment shooting.

Do you have any experience with the Olympus Stylus-series of cameras? Do you have a favorite compact point-shoot? Let us know, in the Comments section, below.

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