4.9/10
Archivist John
Senior Editor

A definitive 4.9/10 rating for a film that redefined the boundaries of cult cinema. Film 2 remains a cornerstone of transgressive art.
Short answer: Yes, but only if you value historical truth over traditional storytelling. This film is a vital artifact for those who want to see the 1920s without the filter of Hollywood or the bias of mainstream history. It is absolutely for the patient viewer, the historian, and the lover of raw archival footage. It is most certainly not for anyone seeking a structured plot, high-speed action, or professional technical polish.
This is not a movie in the sense that Number 17 is a movie. There are no spies, no scripted chases, and no dramatic lighting. Instead, Solomon Sir Jones gives us something far rarer: the unedited pulse of Muskogee, Tulsa, and beyond. It is a silent witness to a world that was often ignored or misrepresented by the cameras of its time.
1) This film works because it captures the mundane dignity of Black life with an intimacy that professional studios of the era simply could not—or would not—replicate.
2) This film fails because the inherent technical limitations of 1920s amateur filmmaking result in inconsistent exposure and a lack of narrative cohesion that can alienate modern audiences.
3) You should watch it if you want to see the physical reality of the 'Black Wall Street' era and the thriving communities of Oklahoma through a lens of genuine pride and ownership.
Solomon Sir Jones was not a trained cinematographer, but his work in Film 2 suggests a natural instinct for the power of the frame. Unlike the meticulously staged scenes in The Gay Lord Quex, Jones’s camera is often handheld, moving with a curiosity that feels surprisingly modern. He doesn't wait for the action to come to him; he goes to the people.
In the Sapulpa footage, there is a sequence showing men standing outside their workplace. They aren't 'acting' for the camera like the cast of A Regular Fellow. Instead, they look directly into the lens with a mix of suspicion and pride. This direct gaze is a hallmark of Jones’s work. It breaks the fourth wall not for comedic effect, but as an assertion of existence.
The pacing is rhythmic rather than narrative. We move from the industrial grit of a workplace in Muskogee to the manicured lawns of a residential street in Tulsa. There is no narrator to tell us why this matters. The imagery must do the heavy lifting. For some, this lack of structure will feel like a chore. For others, it’s a form of visual poetry that avoids the melodrama of contemporary silent films like Bristede Strenge.
One of the most striking elements of Film 2 is its geographic scope. By traveling between towns like Bristow, Sapulpa, and Holdenville, Jones creates a map of Black prosperity. We see the brick-and-mortar reality of these towns. The buildings are sturdy. The shops are busy. This is a direct counter-narrative to the stereotypes often found in films like The Last Egyptian.
Consider the footage from Hugo. The focus on recreational activities—people gathered, laughing, and dressed in their Sunday best—highlights a level of social cohesion that is often omitted from historical accounts of the era. It’s raw. It’s messy. It’s better than most movies from 1925 because it isn't lying to you. There is no artifice here, just the sun-drenched reality of an Oklahoma afternoon.
The film also serves as a poignant reminder of what was at stake. Filmed just years after the Tulsa Race Massacre, the footage of Tulsa’s residential areas feels like an act of defiance. Jones isn't filming the destruction; he is filming the rebuilding. He is filming the refusal to be erased. This gives the film a weight that even a big-budget production like The Tavern Knight can't match.
Let’s be honest: the technical quality is rough. The 16mm film stock has suffered over the decades, and Jones’s focus occasionally drifts. Compared to the polished cinematography of Wife Against Wife, this looks like a home movie—because it is. But that lack of polish is exactly why it works. It lacks the 'studio look' that often sanitized the 1920s.
The lighting is entirely natural. In the Holdenville segments, the harsh Oklahoma sun creates deep shadows, giving the faces of the subjects a sculptural quality. Jones doesn't use reflectors or artificial lights. He works with what he has. This creates a high-contrast aesthetic that feels more honest than the soft-focus romanticism of The Secret Orchard.
The editing is almost non-existent. We jump from one town to the next with little warning. It’s jarring. It’s punchy. It forces the viewer to pay attention to the details—the make of the cars, the style of the hats, the signage on the buildings. It’s a sensory overload of historical data points. It is a foundational document of American visual history.
Short answer: Yes, for the patient viewer. Film 2 is not entertainment in the traditional sense; it is a portal. If you go in expecting a story, you will be disappointed. If you go in expecting to see the ghosts of a thriving civilization, you will be moved.
It stands in stark contrast to the commercial films of its day, like The Gasoline Trail or Alice at the Rodeo, which were designed for escapism. Jones’s film is the opposite of escapism; it is an immersion into a reality that was nearly lost to time. It is a film that demands your respect, even if it doesn't always hold your attention with thrills.
Pros:
- Unparalleled historical authenticity.
- Captures a rare look at Black middle-class life in the 1920s.
- Handheld camera work feels intimate and personal.
- Important cultural preservation of Oklahoma history.
Cons:
- Significant film degradation in certain sequences.
- No narrative arc or character development.
- Pacing can be repetitive for casual viewers.
When we look at other films from this era, such as Umanità or Bad Company, we see the fingerprints of directors trying to manipulate the audience's emotions. Jones does no such thing. He isn't trying to make you cry or laugh; he's just trying to make you see. There is a brutal simplicity to his approach that makes the 'professional' films of the time look almost amateurish in their reliance on tropes.
Even a film like Tea for Three, which deals with social dynamics, feels artificial compared to the genuine social interaction Jones captures on the streets of Sapulpa. There is no script to hide behind here. The truth is in the way a man tips his hat or a child runs across a dusty road. It’s these small, unscripted moments that give Film 2 its lasting power.
Film 2 is a difficult, beautiful, and essential piece of cinema. It is not a 'movie' you watch with popcorn on a Friday night. It is a document you study with reverence. Solomon Sir Jones has left us a gift—a window into a world that many tried to burn down or forget. It works. But it’s flawed. And in its flaws, it finds its greatest strength. It is a defiant 'we were here' captured in silver halide. If you have any interest in the roots of American culture, you cannot afford to skip this.

IMDb 5
1919
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