Body Elements

A small control cluster sits to the right of the MX-1's mode dial, including a power button, shutter release, zoom ring, movie record button, and exposure compensation dial.

The large mode dial includes the usual auto, semi-auto, and manual modes, plus Scene, HDR, and one user preset setting.
The upper rear dial is perfectly placed for operation by your right thumb.
The MX-1 has a very bright autofocus-assist LED lamp to aid focusing in dark conditions. This can be turned off in the menu if you prefer. The AF menu includes an option to disable the lamp.

Just left of the lamp is the first infrared sensor for activation with the WP remote control.
The small flash unit pops up and forward of the top plate. Since it's activated with a mechanical switch, the camera can't deploy it automatically; instead the LCD says: 'Please pop-up the flash.'

The MX-1's flash is released by this sliding mechanical switch on the left side of the camera.

The MX-1's stereo microphones are on the top deck, positioned left and right of the lens' center line. Because you can hear focus motor and zoom noise in quiet videos, you have the option of enabling or disabling both in the second movie menu.
Protected by a hard plastic flap hinged on a metal pin, the MX-1's ports include a PC/AV socket and an HDMI port.
The battery and SD card go into a conventional compartment in the MX-1's base. The camera uses the Pentax D-LI106, a 4.5Wh (3.6-volt 1,250mAh) lithium-ion battery.
Placed off-center from the lens, the tripod socked is metal. Its close proximity to the battery door means you'll have to remove the MX-1 from your tripod if you need to change the battery.
The MX-1's strap lugs are mounted forward of the body to keep them from upsetting the camera's rectangular silhouette, and also to keep them from jabbing into your hand. However, the camera also hangs oddly on your chest, at about a 40-degree angle, with all the weight behind these lugs.
Hidden beneath the paint is real brass, ready to be revealed gradually as the paint wears. It's an unusual feature of little real consequence, but strangely endearing for the nostalgic among us.