DbcultAccessing Vault...
5/10
Archivist John
Senior Editor
A definitive 5/10 rating for a film that redefined the boundaries of cult cinema. Film 20 remains a cornerstone of transgressive art.
Should you invest your time in Solomon Sir Jones’s 'Film 20' today? Short answer: yes, but only if you are prepared to trade narrative satisfaction for historical revelation. This is not a movie in the sense of a scripted drama; it is a visceral connection to a lost world that demands your full attention to decode its secrets.
This film is for the historian, the sociologist, and the cinephile who finds more beauty in a grainy, authentic street scene than in a thousand polished studio sets. It is decidedly NOT for the casual viewer seeking a three-act structure, a romantic subplot, or even a basic sense of continuity. It is raw, unedited, and unapologetically real.
This film works because: It provides an unfiltered, non-performative look at Black middle-class life in the 1920s, a perspective almost entirely absent from commercial cinema of the time.
This film fails because: As a collection of home movies, it lacks a narrative arc, professional lighting, or any traditional sense of 'entertainment' value for a casual viewer.
You should watch it if: You are a student of history, a lover of archival film, or someone tired of the stereotypical depictions of the Roaring Twenties found in Hollywood's golden age.
Solomon Sir Jones was not a Hollywood director. He was a Baptist minister with a 16mm camera and a mission. This distinction is vital. When we look at contemporary films from 1924, such as M'Liss or the dramatic tension of The Secret of the Moor, we are seeing life through a heavily filtered, commercial lens. Jones, however, offers a gaze that is communal and celebratory.
In 'Film 20', the 'acting' is merely people being themselves. There is a specific moment in the Boley, Oklahoma footage where a group of men in sharp suits stand outside a brick building. They aren't following a script like the characters in Human Collateral. They are simply existing as symbols of economic autonomy. The way they look at the camera—sometimes with a shy smile, sometimes with a stern pride—tells a deeper story than any intertitle could.
The cinematography is admittedly primitive. Jones was using the newly released 16mm format, which was the 'iPhone' of its day. The camera shakes, the exposure varies, and the framing is often off-center. Yet, this lack of polish is exactly what makes it superior to the staged theatricality of Trilby. There is a brutal honesty in the grain. It works. But it’s flawed.
The geographical scope of 'Film 20' is staggering. Moving from Kansas City to the 'All-Black' towns of Oklahoma like Boley and Taft, Jones documents a socio-political movement in real-time. This isn't the slapstick world of Col. Heeza Liar, Detective or the whimsical nonsense of Mother Gooseland. This is the documentation of a dream.
In Taft, Oklahoma, we see school children lined up with a precision that rivals the choreography in The Charm School, but with a weight of purpose that the latter lacks. These children weren't just extras; they were the future of a self-determined community. The contrast between these real-life institutions and the fictionalized social climbing in Mrs. Leffingwell's Boots is jarring. Jones captures the architecture of hope.
One surprising observation: despite the lack of sound, you can almost hear the rhythm of the streets. The pacing of the footage is dictated by the natural movements of the crowds. Unlike the frantic editing of Bulling the Bolshevik, Jones lets the camera linger. He wants us to see every face. He wants us to acknowledge every individual in the crowd.
We must talk about the 16mm format. In the 1920s, professional cinema was 35mm. By choosing 16mm, Jones was an early adopter of a medium that democratized filmmaking. While La tragica fine di Caligula imperator used massive sets and professional lighting to create spectacle, Jones used natural light and the existing landscape.
The 'special effects' in 'Film 20' are the lens flares and the occasional light leaks that dance across the screen. These technical 'errors' now feel like ghosts of the past reaching out. In one scene in Muskogee, the sunlight hits the camera lens in a way that obscures the faces of a church congregation, creating a haunting, ethereal effect that no director of The Bruce Partington Plans could have planned. It is accidental art.
The pacing is erratic. Because Jones was likely hand-cranking or using a simple spring-motor, the speed of motion fluctuates. This creates a dreamlike quality. It is far removed from the rigid, theatrical pacing of Die Liebschaften des Hektor Dalmore. It feels like a heartbeat—sometimes racing with the excitement of a parade, sometimes slowing down to observe a quiet moment on a porch.
What makes Solomon Sir Jones's footage unique compared to other 1920s films? The answer lies in its subject matter and its lack of artifice. Most films from this era, even those aimed at Black audiences, were influenced by the tropes of the stage. Jones’s work is purely observational. It is a rare, non-caricatured view of Black life that survived the decades when many other records were destroyed or lost.
If you are looking for a movie to entertain you on a Friday night, 'Film 20' will likely bore you. However, if you are looking for a film that will change the way you perceive American history, it is essential. It is more 'real' than Meyer from Berlin and more socially significant than the serial thrills of The Bull's Eye. It is a testament to the power of the amateur filmmaker to preserve what the professionals ignore.
Pros:
- Unmatched historical authenticity.
- A rare visual record of Black prosperity.
- Captures the genuine spirit of 1920s community life.
- Essential for understanding the geography of the Midwest during the Great Migration.
Cons:
- Significant technical degradation in some reels.
- No narrative structure or character development.
- Requires external context to fully appreciate what is on screen.
'Film 20' is a masterpiece of the mundane. It is not a cinematic achievement in the sense of lighting or editing, but it is a triumph of preservation. Solomon Sir Jones did something that few others had the foresight to do: he pointed his camera at the people who were building a world for themselves and he kept the motor running. It is a silent, flickering prayer for a future that was often under threat. While it lacks the polish of a An Honorable Cad, it possesses a soul that commercial cinema rarely touches. Watch it not for the 'show,' but for the truth. It is raw. It is silent. It is enough.
IMDb —
1920
Community
Log in to comment.
Loading comments…
