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5/10
Archivist John
Senior Editor
A definitive 5/10 rating for a film that redefined the boundaries of cult cinema. Film 17 remains a cornerstone of transgressive art.
Is Film 17 worth your time today? Short answer: Yes, but only if you value historical truth over Hollywood artifice.
This is a film for historians, students of the African American experience, and cinephiles who find beauty in the grain of 16mm film. It is not for those seeking a high-octane plot or contemporary pacing.
1) This film works because it captures an unfiltered, joyful reality of Black life that the 1920s commercial cinema actively suppressed.
2) This film fails because its episodic, non-linear structure can feel aimless to a modern viewer accustomed to traditional storytelling.
3) You should watch it if you want to see the real 'Black Wall Street' era through the eyes of someone who actually lived it.
Film 17 is essential viewing because it challenges the monolithic historical narrative of the American South. When we think of 1920s Oklahoma, the mind often drifts to tragedy or rural struggle. Solomon Sir Jones offers an alternative: a world of spelling bees, thriving boarding houses, and academic excellence at Langston University. It is a necessary correction to the cinematic record.
However, you must adjust your expectations. This isn't a narrative like The Big Adventure. There are no heroes in the traditional sense, only the collective heroism of a community existing in spite of the era's pressures. It is slow. It is silent. It is profound.
Reverend Solomon Sir Jones was not a professional filmmaker, but he possessed a professional’s instinct for framing. In the sequences shot in Muskogee, his camera lingers on the architecture of the schools. He understands that these buildings are symbols of progress. He doesn't just point and shoot; he composes. The way he captures the students at the spelling bee—nervous, focused, and proud—shows a deep empathy for his subjects.
The cinematography is surprisingly fluid for 16mm amateur work. There is a specific moment in Oklahoma City where the camera pans across a crowd. It’s not the jerky, frantic movement you see in many home movies of the time. It is steady. It is deliberate. Jones wanted us to see every face. He wanted these people to be remembered. It works. But it’s flawed by the technological limitations of the time.
The lighting is entirely natural, which leads to some murky interiors in the boarding house scenes. Yet, even in the shadows, there is a sense of place. You can almost smell the dust of the Oklahoma roads and the starch in the students' collars. It feels more real than the polished sets of The Lost City.
The film’s movement between Langston, Chandler, and Muskogee creates a fascinating geography of the Black middle class. In Langston, the focus is academic. The camera captures the university as a beacon of light. In the 'adventure series' segments, Jones takes us on the road. These aren't just travelogues; they are assertions of freedom. In an era of sundown towns, the act of traveling safely and documenting it was a radical gesture.
Compare this to the fictionalized drama of Sinners or the exoticism of The Princess of India. While those films were manufacturing fantasies, Jones was documenting a reality that felt like a fantasy to those outside his community. The spelling bee sequence is particularly striking. It’s a small, quiet moment, but in the context of 1920s Oklahoma, it’s a thunderous statement of intellectual equality.
The pacing is the film's biggest hurdle. It moves with the rhythm of a Sunday afternoon. There is no ticking clock. There is no villain to defeat. For some, this will be meditative. For others, it will be a test of patience. I found it hypnotic. The lack of a script allows the viewer to project their own emotions onto the silent faces on screen.
The film’s grain is its soul. Every scratch on the celluloid reminds you of the passage of time. The tone is overwhelmingly positive, which is a debatable choice given the political climate of the 1920s. Some might argue that Jones was wearing blinders, ignoring the harsh realities of Jim Crow. I disagree. I think his focus on joy was a deliberate act of resistance. He chose to film what was worth saving.
The boarding house scenes are particularly intimate. We see people eating, laughing, and simply existing. It lacks the theatricality of Satan's Rhapsody or the suspense of The Leavenworth Case. Instead, it offers a raw, domestic honesty. It is a film that breathes. It doesn't perform; it exists.
One surprising observation: the children in Jones’ films rarely look at the camera with the fear or bewilderment seen in other archival footage of the era. They look curious. They look comfortable. This speaks volumes about Jones’ presence in the community. He wasn't an outsider looking in; he was a neighbor with a lens.
Pros:
Cons:
Film 17 is a miracle of survival. It is a quiet, powerful testament to a community that built its own world within a hostile state. Solomon Sir Jones was a visionary, not because he invented new techniques, but because he saw value in the everyday lives of his people. It is not a 'movie' in the sense of The Ticket-of-Leave Man. It is something better: a piece of the truth. Watch it for the faces. Watch it for the history. Just don't expect a Hollywood ending. The ending is us, still watching it a century later.
IMDb 5.4
1926
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