Olympus OM-4review

The Olympus OM-4, I’ll tell you, is almost too smart for its own good. It looks harmless at first. Same skinny frame as the OM-1 — small, light, just over 500 grams, like it forgot to eat breakfast and lunch both. You pick it up and it feels honest, no bigger than it has to be, no heavier than it needs to be, none of that tank-sized nonsense like you get with the old Nikons. But then you turn it on, and before you even take a shot, the thing’s already doing calculus behind your back. Spot metering, multi-spot, highlights, shadows—Christ, it’s like having your nosy math teacher breathing down your neck, telling you how to do long division when you already know the answer.

Don’t get me wrong, though—it’s terrific. I mean, you look through the finder and it’s bright as hell. Ninety-seven percent coverage, almost life-size, with interchangeable focusing screens so you can swap out the standard one for whatever suits your sorry little eyes. It’s not some dim tunnel with scratches on it. It’s like staring through a clean window in a fancy hotel. And the controls—right where they ought to be, none of that plastic trash. Shutter speed ring around the lens mount like the other OMs, aperture on the lens, advance lever smooth as butter. You don’t need a manual the size of a phone book just to figure out how to turn the thing on. Olympus always had a knack for making cameras that feel like they were designed by a human, not a committee.

But the meter—that’s the brains. That’s what makes the OM-4 different. With the OM-1 you get a needle and you deal with it. With the OM-4, you get choices. Regular center-weighted metering if you’re feeling nostalgic, sure. But the spot meter’s the real act. One press of the button and boom—it nails the exposure for exactly the little spot you’re pointing at. Not the whole scene, not the middle fifty percent, not some imaginary average. Just the damn spot you picked. And if you don’t trust just one reading, you can take up to eight of them. Eight! Hold the button and the camera averages them, like some kid doing your algebra homework before you even crack open the book.

And if averaging isn’t your thing—because maybe you’re the kind who thinks averages are for phonies—there are dedicated highlight and shadow buttons. You see something bright you don’t want blown out? Tap highlight and the OM-4 figures it out. You see something buried in the dark you actually care about? Hit shadow, and it lifts it without a fuss. None of this screwing around with compensation dials and second-guessing yourself. It’s simple, direct, clever. Too clever, maybe. Makes you feel slow sometimes. Like it’s saying, “Relax, kid, I’ll handle it, since you’ll probably botch it anyway.” I can read a damn needle just fine, thank you very much.

But here’s the kicker—it’s usually right. I don’t know how they did it, but this thing meters down to EV -5. I’m talking candlelight, practically. Some cameras cry uncle when the sun goes down. The OM-4 just shrugs, figures it out, and keeps going. And it does it all on two little SR44 button batteries. That’s it. No brick in the grip, no pack the size of a brick dangling under the body. Just two little batteries you could buy at the corner shop. And the damn thing sips power so slowly you forget there are batteries in it at all.

The shutter is another story. Smooth, electronic-timed, running from one second down to 1/2000. In Auto mode it’s stepless, meaning it doesn’t just jump between whole stops—it picks exactly the time it wants, down to fractions of a fraction. And if you use exposure lock, it’ll hold it as long as your finger can stand pressing down. No thirty-second cutoff, no whining about “too dark.” As long as your finger’s there, it’s there. Flash sync? 1/60. Not blazing fast, but it’ll do. You’re not buying an OM-4 because you’re a strobe jockey anyway. Film advance—smooth, mechanical, reassuring. Mirror? Damped better than most. Even the rewind crank feels like Olympus cared about your thumbs.

And let’s not forget the glass. Zuikos. Tiny, sharp, and built like they mean it. You mount a 50mm f/1.4 and the whole kit still slides into your coat pocket. Try that with a Nikon F3 and see how far you get before your jacket looks like you’re smuggling bricks. And it’s not just the size. The lenses are crisp, with good contrast, none of that mush you get with bargain-bin glass. Even the little 40mm f/2 pancake makes the OM-4 look like a toy, until you see the negatives and realize it’s sharper than half the modern stuff.

The design’s clever too. All metal body, weather-sealed enough to take a drizzle, compact enough you actually want to carry it. That’s the thing—so many SLRs are built like anchors. You drag them along out of guilt. The OM-4 practically begs you to take it out, slip it into a bag, keep it with you. It’s polite about everything. Doesn’t beep, doesn’t flash warnings at you, doesn’t nag. It just waits.

And that’s the part I can’t quite shake. The OM-4 is clever without being a phony. That’s rare as hell. Most cameras with tricks up their sleeves can’t shut up about it. They’ve got LEDs flashing, buttons chirping, whole circus acts trying to remind you they’re “advanced.” The OM-4 just does it, quiet, no fuss, no drama. You almost forget it’s as smart as it is. Until you get the film back. And then you look at the negatives and realize, hell, maybe it knew what it was doing all along.

Is it perfect? No. Nothing is. The flash sync could be faster. The body, as solid as it feels, isn’t going to survive being run over by a tank like an old Nikon might. And sometimes the whole exposure system makes you feel like you’re just along for the ride, like the OM-4’s driving and you’re just sitting in the passenger seat hoping not to crash. But that’s nitpicking. You forgive it, every time. Because when you get back shots that look exactly the way you hoped—sometimes even better—you can’t stay mad.

If the OM-1 is the quiet, dependable friend, and the 35RC is the sly little bastard who slips into your pocket, then the OM-4 is the brainy one. The kid who always has the answers, even when you don’t want them. The one you roll your eyes at because he makes you feel slow. But when the test results come back and you’ve passed because of him, you’re glad he was there. That’s the OM-4 in a nutshell. Maybe too clever, but not a phony. And in the end, that’s about the best you can ask for.