Believe It or Not: A weird, dusty time capsule

If you have a thing for old newsreels or just enjoy feeling like you’re trapped in a 1930s waiting room, Believe It or Not (Second Series) #6 is exactly what you want. You probably won't watch this for the plot because there isn't one. It’s just Ripley on a train, showing off stuff. If you hate being bored, skip it. If you like weird trivia and grainy black-and-white footage of a spider fighting a lizard, you’re in for a treat.

The whole thing feels like a fever dream. One minute you’re looking at some guy carrying a literal piano over a mountain in Alaska—which, honestly, sounds like a nightmare—and the next you’re staring at a lady from Manchuria with eyelashes that look like they’re trying to escape her face. It’s deeply bizarre. 🧐

There’s this one bit with a balancing boulder that lasts just long enough to make you wonder if it’s ever going to tip over. It doesn't. It just sits there, looking heavy. You can tell the camera operators were just as confused as we are, especially when they move on to the chickens with no feathers. Why were they filming that? I don't know, but I couldn't look away.

Cinematic perspective: Exploring the visual vocabulary of Believe It or Not (Second Series) #6 (1932) through its definitive frames.

It’s funny how this feels so different from something like Dog Sense, where there’s at least a clear animal-training logic at play. Here, it’s just a grab bag of “look at this!” moments. The North Africa segment is particularly shaky. The Great Pyramid looks tiny, and the sand spider footage is surprisingly intense if you’re into that kind of nature-doc stuff.

Wait, a merry-go-round lunch counter?

Yes. That was a thing. It’s exactly as impractical as it sounds. Watching people try to eat their lunch while spinning in a circle made me feel slightly motion-sick, which is probably the most engagement I’ve had with a film this week. 🎠

It’s not a masterpiece. It’s not even really a movie. It’s a collection of curiosities that feel like they belong in a dusty attic. If you compare the pacing here to something like Courtin' Wildcats, you’ll realize how much the rhythm of these old shorts just doesn't care about your time. It just shows you the horseshoe collection and moves on before you can even ask 'why'.

Maybe that’s the point. It’s fleeting. It’s weird. It’s over before you’ve finished your coffee. I’d recommend it to anyone who likes the feeling of discovery, even if the discovery is just a really, really long eyelash. Don't go in expecting structure. Just go in for the ride.