Athens' cinematic secret

ATHENS, Greece (CNN) -- Editor's note: Watch CNN's "The Screening Room" meet the cast of blockbuster musical "Mamma Mia!" and double Oscar-winning Greek director Constantin Costa-Gavras in Greece at the following times: Friday 25 July at 1730 and on Saturday 26 July 0730 and 1330 (all times GMT.)

From the outside, the shabby shop-front exhibits no indication of the treasures contained within.

Graffiti marks the firmly closed shutters which, along with a sophisticated alarm system invented by its owner, guard this Aladdin's Cave in backstreet Athens.

The subject of their vigilance represents not merely the best that Athens can boast, nor even the best in Greece but is possessed with that rare distinction of being unequalled on earth.

In its own way it is as unique as the Parthenon -- Athens' wonder of the ancient world perennially clad in constructors' scaffolding -- which dominates the city from its lofty perch atop the rock of the Acropolis.

The cultural claims of our mysterious collection belong very much to a modern world and verification of their authenticity is provided not by the Greek Department of Museums but rather by a small plastic sign which boasts "Guinness World Record Museum of Cameras."

To descend the three steps from street level to the floor of this vast collection is to step into a tiny, secret world dense with devotion. Movie cameras and projectors -- a little short of a thousand of the things.

There are cameras preserved from the depths of time; projectors which would have been familiar to cinematic innovators, the Lumiere Brothers as their first efforts were seen in Athens in 1897 -- one year after the city hosted the first modern Olympiad.

Cameras from both World Wars and both sides of the Cold War jostle for space with more modern fare from Japan. A multi-cultural mixture of wood, leather, tin and plastic, all in working order.

The collector and chief curator and of this fine emporium is 78-year-old Dimitris Pistiolas -- not exactly an ancient Greek but certainly a veteran of the nation.

"Vice-president of the Museum" as she mockingly refers to herself is Pistiolas' wife Areti, a hearty and hospitable woman who is considerably younger than her spouse. She is both humble and proud, delighted that we have come to visit.

Dimitris embarked upon his life's work after being captivated by flickering images on cinema screens as a boy. During a lifetime of service in the Greek National Post Office, what little of his meager salary was left over he devoted to expanding his collection.

"Collecting cameras is difficult and expensive," he confides, "There were many other things which we did not have."

If Areti harbors any resentment at taking second place to the cinematic stockpile she doesn't show it: "These are his real children," she smiles.

Dimitris' first-born was a device he fashioned out of old coins, a milk tin and the stolen lenses from his grandmother's spectacles.

He is the proud owner of a patent for his invention and with the flick of a switch the camera whirs into action as smoothly as it must have done sixty years ago.

Areti tells us that Dimitris has an almost supernatural connection with his collection, rushing home one day to secure his stock because of a "bad feeling."

Five hours later Athens suffered one of its worst earthquakes, one which would have destroyed the shelves of projectors if he had not secured them beforehand.

Visitors to the museum are strictly vetted by phone and no more than three people are admitted a time, often students of film from overseas.

On such occasions the room is transformed into what must be one of the world's smallest cinemas, accommodating six posteriors balanced precariously on a cluster of tiny tin chairs.

Together with their son Spiros, who along with his siblings will one day inherit the camera collection, Dimitris and Areti long to escape the confines of their mini-museum and find a more suitable space in which to house their display.

Areti hopes the Greek authorities may some day recognize the priceless collection they have at their disposal. When they tried to bring it to the attention of the city authorities before the 2000 Olympics they say the received little encouragement.

Nonetheless they have resolutely rejected big money offers to take their record-breaking museum overseas because of national pride: "All the things here are timeless," says Dimitris, "they will stay in Greece for the benefit of the world."

"This is our heritage" adds Areti "We are proud to have this collection for the Greek nation."

Dimitris is far from ready to abandon his collecting compulsion and believes it's providing an elixir which would have been the envy of Hebe, the ancient Greek goddess of eternal youth: "Every time I buy another camera I get younger!" he laughs.