DbcultAccessing Vault...
4.9/10
Archivist John
Senior Editor
A definitive 4.9/10 rating for a film that redefined the boundaries of cult cinema. Film 23 remains a cornerstone of transgressive art.
Is Film 23 worth your time in the modern era? Short answer: Yes, but only if you approach it as a historical artifact rather than a commercial entertainment piece.
This film is for historians, archivists, and anyone interested in the unfiltered reality of the Black experience in the American South. It is not for someone looking for a Friday night popcorn flick or a structured narrative with a clear protagonist.
1) This film works because it provides an unmediated look at Black autonomy and community success in 1920s Oklahoma without the filters of Hollywood bias.
2) This film fails because its lack of sound, fragmented editing, and absence of context can make it impenetrable for a casual viewer.
3) You should watch it if you want to see the real faces of the people who built the 'All-Black towns' of Oklahoma, far removed from the caricatures of the era.
Film 23 is not a movie in the sense that The Return of Peter Grimm is a movie. There are no actors here, only subjects. Solomon Sir Jones was a Baptist minister who understood the power of the image. Between 1924 and 1928, he hauled 16mm equipment across Oklahoma to document his world.
The footage from Wellston and Okmulgee is particularly striking. We see people standing outside churches, dressed in their Sunday best. These aren't the downtrodden figures often depicted in historical textbooks. These are business owners, teachers, and families with a clear sense of self-worth.
In one specific scene in Drumright, the camera lingers on a storefront. The framing is amateur, yet the intent is professional. Jones wasn't just filming a street; he was documenting ownership. It is a quiet, radical act of preservation.
We must talk about the grain. The 16mm format was brand new when Jones started filming. Unlike the high-budget production of The Napoleonic Epics, there is no lighting crew here. Jones relied entirely on the harsh Oklahoma sun.
This creates a high-contrast look that feels more 'real' than any modern period piece. When we see the school children in Sapulpa, their faces are occasionally washed out by the glare, but their energy is undeniable. They wave at the camera with a mix of curiosity and shyness.
The pacing is erratic. Jones would stop and start the camera to save film. This results in jumpy transitions that might frustrate those used to the fluid editing of Keep Smiling. But this jittery quality adds to the sense of urgency. It feels like we are watching a memory that is trying to escape the ravages of time.
While Jones didn't set out to be a filmmaker in the vein of those who made The Right of Way, he developed a unique eye. He had a penchant for wide shots that captured the scale of the community. He wanted to show the churches, the schools, and the homes all in one frame.
He occasionally experimented with movement. In the El Reno footage, there is a slight panning motion that reveals a row of houses. It’s a simple technique, but in 1925, for an amateur filmmaker, it was sophisticated. He was trying to tell a story of growth.
Compare this to the slapstick energy of Bowled Over. While that film sought to entertain through artifice, Film 23 seeks to validate through reality. There is no punchline here. Only the truth of the lens.
Yes, Film 23 is worth watching if you want to experience an unvarnished primary source of American history. It offers a visual record of Black life in Oklahoma that is largely absent from the mainstream archives of the 1920s. It is a vital tool for understanding the social fabric of the era.
However, you must be prepared for the silence. There is no score. There are no intertitles to explain who people are. You are left alone with the images. For some, this is a meditative experience. For others, it will feel like homework. It is a film that requires active participation from the viewer.
The absence of sound in Film 23 is profound. In a world where Black voices were often silenced or mocked in films like Big Chief Koko, the silence here feels protective. We see the people talking to each other, laughing, and gesturing, but we cannot hear them.
This creates a barrier that forces the viewer to focus on the body language. Notice the posture of the men in Okmulgee. They stand tall. They are proud. You don't need a script to understand the social hierarchy of that street corner. The visuals speak louder than any dialogue in A Social Sleuth ever could.
The film is a ghost story, in a way. Most of the buildings we see are gone. Many of the towns have changed beyond recognition. But the film remains. It is a haunting reminder of what was built and what was lost.
When we look at other films from this period, like Posledniy vystrel, we see the power of propaganda and narrative. Jones, however, had no government backing. He had no studio. He was a man with a vision and a congregation.
Even a film like The Place Beyond the Winds, which deals with rugged landscapes, feels staged compared to the dust of Wellston. There is a scene in Film 23 where a car drives down a dirt road in Oklahoma City. The dust kicks up and obscures the camera for a moment. Jones didn't edit it out. He kept it. That dust is real. That moment is uncurated.
It lacks the whimsy of Caves and Coquettes, but it replaces it with a heavy, grounded sense of place. You can almost feel the heat of the Oklahoma summer through the screen.
Pros:
Cons:
There is a moment in the Sapulpa footage where an older woman looks directly into the lens. She doesn't smile. She just watches Jones as he watches her. It is a moment of profound human connection that transcends the century between us.
In that gaze, you see the history of a people. You see the resilience that would later be dramatized in films like God of Little Children. But here, it isn't drama. It’s just life. It’s a woman standing on a street in Oklahoma, refusing to be ignored by history.
This is why Film 23 matters. It isn't about the 'art' of filmmaking. It’s about the 'act' of filming. Jones was asserting that these lives were worth recording. He was right. Even the mundane shots of a store in El Reno feel like a victory.
Film 23 is a difficult, beautiful, and essential watch. It is not 'cinema' in the traditional sense, but it is one of the most important things you can watch from the 1920s. It lacks the polish of A napraforgós hölgy or the comedy of His Jonah Day, but it has something they don't: the raw pulse of reality.
It works. But it’s flawed. It’s a collection of ghosts that refuse to stay silent, even without a soundtrack. If you have any interest in the roots of the American story, you owe it to yourself to sit through the grain and the glare. You will see a world you didn't know existed, and you will be better for it.
IMDb —
1916
Community
Log in to comment.
