Gen Z could yet save Kodak. That might sound fanciful in a world of 4K phones and instant filters, but wander through a campus or a gig and you’ll see the evidence: point-and-shoots, 35mm canisters, and kids waiting days for contact sheets like it’s 1999.
I grew up on that rhythm – sprinting to the photo studio, breathing in the chemical tang, racing home with an envelope of prints to slide into albums and pass around the table. Lately, I’ve watched the ritual reappear at events where organisers hand out disposables or instant prints. Film is cool again precisely because it slows you down.
And if any brand still defines that feeling, it’s Kodak. Which is why its current financial strain feels so jarring. The question now is whether this youth-led analog revival can do more than spark demand – can it steady the company that taught the world to remember?
Why this matters now
In its second-quarter update this month, Eastman Kodak warned it lacks committed financing to meet roughly $500 million of obligations coming due within 12 months – wording that, under US accounting rules, triggers a “substantial doubt” going-concern warning. The stock fell about 25 to 26 per cent on the headlines. The same filing shows a $26 million net loss for Q2, revenue down 1 per cent to $263 million, and about $155 million of cash at quarter-end. The P&L isn’t fatal; the debt clock is.
Kodak’s response is that this is timing, not terminal. Management plans to terminate the long-running US pension, revert an estimated surplus and use roughly $300 million of it to pay down the term loan, then amend, extend or refinance what remains. The company has said it has no plans to cease operations or file for bankruptcy and expects to be close to net-debt-free once the transactions complete. Lenders have already tweaked covenants so pension proceeds can flow straight to repayment. Execution risk is real; the logic is clear.
If you’ve followed Kodak for any length of time, the deja vu is sharp. This is the 133-year-old company that once commanded 90 per cent of US film and 85 per cent of camera sales in the 1970s, helped invent the digital camera in 1975, then missed the turn and filed for Chapter 11 in 2012. It re-emerged smaller, focused on commercial print, advanced materials and chemicals, motion-picture film and a leaner consumer line while licensing the Kodak name across products. A brand built on memory has had to reinvent itself to avoid becoming one.
The analog tailwind is real
Culture is doing Kodak a favour. Analog wellness – the choice to log off and embrace tactile, pre-digital experiences – is very much a 2025 trend. Film photography sits in that slipstream: 36 exposures, no instant feedback, attention sharpened by constraint. This, to some extent, might be retro cosplay but I think it points to a modern appetite for something physical and imperfect.
Supply tells the same story. Kodak’s still-film output more than doubled between 2015 and 2019 as the revival took root. In late 2024, the company paused lines to upgrade its Rochester plant to meet rising orders in still and motion-picture film. That was an investment signal, not a retreat.
Talk to young photographers and the motive is simple: they’re opting out of digital perfection. Grain, colour wobble and delayed gratification feel more authentic than infinitely corrected smartphone shots. In 2025, shooting film has become a badge of intention and individuality.
What Gen Z can do, and what Kodak must do
Gen Z alone can’t fix a balance sheet. Film is culturally powerful but commercially niche. Kodak’s revenue still leans on print technology and specialty chemicals; analog’s job is to keep the brand relevant, widen the funnel and generate dependable cash – not carry the whole enterprise.
So keep the on-ramp frictionless. Those Rochester upgrades need to translate into full shelves for the emulsions first-timers actually buy (Gold, ColorPlus, Portra and Tri-X) at an entry price that feels like an easy “yes,” not really a luxury. Nothing kills a movement like scarcity and sticker shock. Film spreads socially – through campus clubs, creator communities and indie labs – so Kodak doesn’t need a glossy ad campaign as much as it needs to underwrite where the habit forms. Bundle lab credits with multi-packs. Co-sponsor “learn to shoot film” days. Make it easy to go from canister to album.
Delight the faithful without turning film into a museum piece. Limited-run revivals of discontinued stocks, transparent batch notes, small-batch “experiments”: treat special emulsions like the drops sneakerheads queue for. And keep the story forward-looking.
The point of film in 2025 is not only about nostalgia, but presence – earning the frame. That’s what hooked me as a kid racing to the lab, and it’s what’s pulling today’s twenty-somethings into the same ritual.
The assignment
First, defuse the debt clock: get the pension cash in, pay down the loan, and refinance or extend the rest – exactly as promised. Only then does Kodak earn the breathing room to play offence – capacity, price discipline, community – instead of managing quarter to quarter.
I’m sentimental about film because I grew up spreading prints across the table and building albums everyone gathered around. I’m also pragmatic. Gen Z won’t “save” Kodak by feeling things; they’ll do it by buying rolls, developing them and coming back for more – but only if Kodak meets them halfway.
Right now, the culture is handing Kodak the rare gift of relevance. Convert that into reliable supply, sensible pricing and smart partnerships, and the youth-driven revival turns into durable cash flow. The culture has done its part. Now Kodak needs to do its job.
