M, of metamorphosis.
Another perspective on the Leica M EV1
Let me return to our imagined dialogue, shaped by my experience with Leica cameras.
Without introducing myself again, as I did at the beginning of my Leica Q3 43 review, I will state this plainly: I am not, and will most likely never be, a photojournalist.
Which is to say, engaging in a critical review of a camera from the M series, when my identity does not align with the original purpose of such a tool, may seem curious, even misplaced.
And yet… this in no way implies any ignorance on my part regarding photojournalism, nor of the techniques and knowledge inherent to photographic disciplines beyond my own. Nor does it suggest that I have no need for M cameras in my work - quite the opposite.
I owe the reader clarity and honesty, and that is precisely what I intend to offer.
Therefor, what exactly is the Leica M EV1?
Nothing more than an M11 with an electronic viewfinder, apparently. Is it really?
I have already mentioned the Q3 43, and I will not hesitate to do so again: in my analysis of that reference tool, I spoke of my prior choice of the Sony system, particularly for its balance between high image quality and broad versatility.
But before examining the M EV1, one must ask: what is a Sony FE system—and why bring it into this discussion?
Sony proposes a highly automated ecosystem, built around a mount that allows the use of almost any lens - without any exaggeration. Today, Nikon offers something similar, though not yet with the same degree of maturity.
So what does one expect from a Leica M with an electronic viewfinder - approaching, in some sense, a Sony-like system - if the goal is versatility through automation?
It depends, of course, on which forms of automation one seeks in photographic practice.
For my part, I long remained deeply committed to manual focus - deliberate, consistent, intentional. As you will come to understand.
As for autofocus, without attempting to persuade but simply put into perspective: I was often faster focusing manually with Zeiss Planar lenses than with the first three generations of Sony autofocus systems. My subjects were not waiting when I used to focus manually, whereas achieving the same level of precision through autofocus - via various AF calibration modes - required noticeably more patience from them.
Of course, today, with the advent of the smartphone - powerful beyond measure - having reshaped both photography and client expectations, the situation has largely reversed. Even more so: Sony no longer merely focuses on the subject you chose, it actually decides which subject is susceptible to interest the photographer. And it's almost always right !
With the Alpha 9 and Alpha 1 series, these creatures-alike even release the shutter one full second before your finger fully registers the act. The next step? Perhaps a camera that orders you a coffee while producing, on its own, more spectacular images than your editing skills will ever dream of - whether one should laugh or despair, it's secondary topic already.
I sens we've just entered a very sensitive territory, one that lends itself easily to extended debate. Knowing myself - not entirely restrained, and not especially enamoured with robotics - I will leave that space to your own reflections, and rapidly return to my subject: the Leica M experience.
For those still her - more or less amused - you've certainly understood that I do appreciate humour, but I do not speak lightly. I approach these questions with rigour. And from that perspective, it matters to say this: I worked with the first three generations of Sony Alpha in much the same way that others have long worked with a Leica M: observing the subject, pre-selecting the focus zone, estimating distance, composing precisely, refining the last millimetres - often wide open, in my case -and releasing the shutter. All within one or two instants.
And no, this was not exceptional. This is the very standard. Ask Von Overgaard, or look at the work of Schaller, Penman, Selaru - this is where it begins. Only then does the rest follow.
Whether seen as elegantly simple or, for rangefinder purists, almost scandalous, Leica’s proposal seems to have shifted the ground.
The modern photographer rarely works in fully manual mode - let no one fool you otherwise. Aperture priority, auto ISO, TTL: these are tools integrated into contemporary practice. And rightly so. They free mental space for creation, accelerate the act of photographing, and allow one to adapt to a world in constant motion.
Without rewriting history: the rangefinder brought precision and compactness. The electronic viewfinder introduces real-time exposure control and immediate responsiveness. Quite an evolution isn't it?
By the way, I doubt that figures such as Irving Penn or Robert Capa would have refused such evolved tools, if given the choice... As for Henri Cartier-Bresson or Brassaï, I would venture that each would've kept at least one M EV in their bag.
But this is not where I wish to risk offending rangefinder purists and Leica’s own R&D teams.
Where I do take a risk is in saying this openly: unlike the Q series, Leica does not seem to have fully embraced its gesture.
The result is a camera that is almost fascinating… yet ultimately frustrating.
With relatively minor adjustments, the M EV1 could become one of the most compelling propositions in photography today. As it stands, it remains a secondary tool.
The viewfinder still lacks precision at wide apertures, and remains sensitive to stray light.
Weather sealing is limited by M lenses; it is time for this to evolve.
The fixed screen constrains certain uses; an inconsistency for a body so close in spirit to the Q series.
Storage could be better aligned with intensive use, and we know Leica already offers 256 GB internally; why not anticipate that a more accessible shooting experience leads to a much higher number of keepers?
Nothing dramatic, but a constellation of small limitations that hold back an otherwise powerful idea.
And yet… the essential lies elsewhere.
This M EV1 convinced me of one thing: a contemporary Leica should not be a variation on the past, but a fully assumed proposition.
The Q3 43 is one: it stands out as Leica’s quintessential instrument, probably the most essential photography tool to this date.
The M EV1, by contrast, remains suspended between two worlds - the paradox of an evident potential constrained by the shadow of the rangefinder icon, itself no longer as compelling compared to the coherence of the Q series.
With full weather sealing - body and lenses - more coherent integration of automation, and perhaps, eventually, certain forms of focus assistance, the EV line could become nothing less than the definitive tool for modern photojournalism.
Today, the M EV1 feels like a desirable luxury, almost touching in its fragility, capable of inspiring desire, yet governed by a restraint that borders on excess.
And I admit: with sufficient means, I might be tempted - if only as a complement to the Q3 43. And while I’m at it, I would probably turn toward lenses that stand in opposition to the APO Summicron - the likes of Noctilux, for instance. An exotic Noctilux to use with this M, for exemple… no, let's make it two Noctilux. Or maybe all of them. Definitely all the Noctilux! Because if we are to dream freely into craziness, then please, Doctor, release my straitjacket !
More seriously, I cannot afford such a luxury object, and that is perhaps for the best. It allows me to speak freely, without softening the edges of this critique, and to admit that despite everything, the EV1 remains a small jewel.
In the meantime, I stand by my position: with such immense potential, such a lineage, and such open horizons, an M system that seeks to unite modern intelligence with deep heritage deserves more than a secondary role.
That's it, I said it!
After the masterclass that is the Q3 43, we now await the Leica M EV series. It must not be a complement, nor a secondary offering, but a true new line - or a genuine metamorphosis, with or without the suffix...
