Harman Phoenix 200 II Color Film Review

Analog Film Review

Shooting Phoenix 200 II at ISO 100 feels like giving the film a bit of breathing room. The boss at HKcamera was right – the latitude is still pretty tight, just like the first Phoenix, and it punishes lazy metering. But when you nail exposure, it rewards you with this strange, dream‑like palette. The halation is still there, still blooming around backlit edges and bright highlights, but the overall cast has shifted: less of that heavy orange warmth from version one, more leaning into green and cyan. Skies go a little cooler, shadows pick up this murky greenish tone, and the whole frame looks like it’s been pulled from an old, slightly faded print rather than a “modern” colour negative like Portra or Vision3.

New Experimental Film

Harman says Phoenix 200 II is a new, experimental C‑41 emulsion, and it still behaves that way in practice – a bit unpredictable, definitely not a safe, all‑purpose travel film. The grain is pronounced and gritty, especially in the midtones, but that texture matches the film’s attitude. It’s not here to be clean. On my Sichuan trip, it turned mountains, temples and city corners into something else entirely: not documentary, not accurate, but almost like concept art of the place. Skin tones are improved over the first Phoenix – less radioactive, more believable – but still not what you’d call “natural”. This is still a stock you choose because you want it to get in the way, to push you into silhouettes, backlight, reflections and weird colours. Phoenix 200 II isn’t trying to be the next Portra; it’s more like a sketchbook film. You load it when you’re okay with losing a few frames in exchange for the ones that look like nothing else in your archive.

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Film Character

If I had to pin down Phoenix 200 II’s character in a few words, I’d say it’s moody, immature, but surprisingly poetic when it all comes together. It doesn’t chase accuracy; it leans into the atmosphere. Colours are shifted just enough to feel unfamiliar, greens that tilt a bit cyan, blues that don’t quite behave like “normal” skies, and shadows that sometimes feel like they’re soaked in old chemicals. It’s a film that never fully disappears behind the image. You’re always aware that you’re looking at film, with all the quirks and little mistakes left in. That’s also where the charm lives: Phoenix 200 II has a way of turning very ordinary scenes into something slightly off, like a memory you’re not sure you actually lived.

The halation is still one of the first things you notice. Bright edges glow, backlit subjects get that soft red rim, and point light sources flare in a way that feels almost motion‑picture inspired. On some frames it takes over – neon signs, reflections, low winter sun – and you get this thick, smeared light that can either ruin a shot or make it. It’s not a subtle effect; you have to want it. Phoenix 200 II doesn’t tidy this up compared to the original – if anything, it just makes the rest of the frame slightly calmer so the halation stands out more. Pair that with the grain and you get a very tactile look. The grain is chunky and visible even at box speed, with a kind of sandy texture in the midtones and shadows. It isn’t the tight, smooth pattern you’d get from Portra or modern motion stocks; it feels more like a pushed consumer film from the 90s, especially when you’re underexposed even half a stop.

Compared to the first Phoenix 200, version II feels like someone adjusted the sliders a little but refused to change the underlying recipe. The original leaned hard into warmth, heavy orange casts, red‑shifted skin and that wild, unpredictable palette that made whole rolls look like they were dipped in sunset. Phoenix 200 II pulls that back. It’s less fiery and more cool‑bloomed: you still have the strong identity, but the colour bias drifts towards green and cyan instead of staying stuck in amber. Highlights roll off a touch more gracefully, and the contrast is slightly more manageable, which makes it easier to keep detail in tricky daylight scenes. The chaos is still there, just more contained; you can actually plan for it.

Where version one sometimes felt like a novelty stock, fun for a weekend, hard to justify beyond that while Phoenix 200 II feels closer to something you might return to for specific projects. It’s still not a “professional” film in the Portra or Ektar sense, and it’s definitely not aiming for that. But it has more consistency, more frames that land in that sweet spot between experimental and usable. If the first Phoenix was Harman showing off what they could do, Phoenix 200 II feels like them asking how far they can push that idea while still giving photographers a film they can learn and grow with. It’s still weird, still rough, but now it’s weird in a way you can actually build a visual language around.

Final Thoughts

As strange as it sounds, it’s been genuinely enjoyable growing alongside Phoenix as Harman figures it out in public. Version II still isn’t a “finished” feeling film, and that’s exactly why I like it – you’re not just shooting on it, you’re sort of collaborating with it. Every roll teaches you where it breaks, where it sings, and where you just have to surrender control and let it do its thing. That’s also why I’m so curious about Azure. From the early examples it looks like the kind of palette I’m only used to seeing in anime backgrounds – that hyper‑stylised blue that doesn’t really exist in real life, but somehow fits perfectly in your head. It feels like an invitation to push even further into unreality, especially in the city: glass, concrete, night signs, wet roads, all bent into this surreal colour space. If Phoenix is the sketchbook, maybe Azure is the storyboard and I’m looking forward to seeing how both of them can reshape the way I photograph the world in front of me.