Film 24: A Raw Glimpse into a Vanished America

Film 24: Peering Through a Century of Dust

Okay, so let's be upfront: Film 24 isn't a movie in the way we usually think. No plot, no dialogue, no big stars (unless you count the children waving at the camera in Ardmore). This is for the real history buffs, for folks who get a kick out of seeing *actual* life from nearly a century ago, especially the kind of life that often gets skipped over in textbooks.

If you need explosions or a neat narrative arc, then yeah, you're going to hate this. But if you’re curious about what a regular Tuesday looked like in Lawton, OK, in the 1920s, or the simple dignity of people walking down a street in Wetumka, then pull up a chair. It’s a quiet experience.

The film opens, or rather, it just starts, with scenes from Lawton. You see brick buildings, people on sidewalks. There’s this one shot, it’s just a few seconds, of a woman adjusting her hat. It’s so mundane, but you find yourself looking at the fabric, thinking about the weather that day. Film 24 is full of these tiny, almost accidental, details. 🧐

Then we're off to Muskogee. A schoolyard scene. Kids are playing, a little chaotic, but you can feel the energy even through the old, flickering footage. One boy, maybe ten years old, stares right at the camera, then breaks into this huge grin. You really wonder what he thought of the whole contraption.

There's a stretch in Ardmore, East Ardmore too, where a lot of the shots are just people walking. Simple. But it’s not boring. The way they carry themselves, the clothes they wear, the architecture of the stores behind them — it all tells a story without needing words. It makes you realize how much has changed, and how much, deep down, hasn't.

One particular sequence in Cushing, Oklahoma, sticks with me. It’s a group of men, maybe outside a church or a community hall. They’re talking, gesturing. The camera lingers a little long, and you almost feel like you're eavesdropping. It’s not dramatic, but it feels incredibly real. Like you’ve just stepped into a moment that wasn't meant for you, but now you’re part of it, kinda.

The quality of the film, it’s rough in places. Scratches, dust specks. But that just adds to the feeling of authenticity. It’s not polished; it’s a direct window, a little smudged, but clear enough. You can almost feel the grit of the towns.

Then there's the jump to St. Louis. It feels different. Bigger. More bustling. The streets seem wider, more people, more carriages. It’s a stark contrast to the smaller Oklahoma towns, showing a wider range of the Black experience Jones was documenting. It's a nice change of pace after all those quiet, dusty Oklahoma streets.

What I really appreciate about Film 24 is how it forces you to slow down. There's no fast cutting, no dramatic score. You just watch. You observe. And because of that, small things become big things. A woman sweeping her porch, a group of friends chatting, a wagon rolling down a dirt road. These aren't just images; they're fragments of lives lived.

It’s not a movie you’d put on for a party. It’s more for a quiet Sunday afternoon, maybe with a cup of coffee, just letting the past wash over you. It's a testament to Solomon Sir Jones’s dedication, capturing these incredibly valuable, often overlooked, parts of American history. It’s not flashy, but it's important. It makes you think.

Didja Notice?

• The incredible variety of hats worn by both men and women. Serious headwear!
• How many kids seem completely unfazed by the camera, just going about their business.
• The specific way some people would just pause, mid-stride, to look directly into the lens.
• A dog wandering into frame during a street scene in Lima, OK, completely stealing the show for a second. 🐕
• The way the light hits some of the dusty roads, almost shimmering.