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4.9/10
Archivist John
Senior Editor
A definitive 4.9/10 rating for a film that redefined the boundaries of cult cinema. Film 25 remains a cornerstone of transgressive art.
Is Film 25 a cinematic essential for the modern viewer? Short answer: yes, but only if you approach it as an archaeological excavation rather than a standard movie night.
This film is for the historian, the archivist, and the patient observer who finds beauty in the grain of 16mm history; it is most certainly not for those seeking a traditional plot, dialogue, or professional polish. If you require a three-act structure, you will find this experience frustratingly opaque.
1) This film works because it provides an unfiltered, non-performative glimpse into African American life in the 1920s, a perspective that was almost entirely erased or caricatured in mainstream productions of the time like The Princess of India.
2) This film fails because it lacks a cohesive editorial voice, leaving the viewer to grapple with unidentified locations and a staccato pacing that can feel aimless without proper historical context.
3) You should watch it if you are fascinated by the intersection of mortality and domesticity, or if you want to see how a camera in the hands of a minister can turn a simple residence into a monument.
Solomon Sir Jones was not a cinematographer by trade, and yet, there is a profound intentionality in how he frames the residences of Eufaula. Unlike the staged grandeur of Satan's Rhapsody, Jones’ camera lingers on the porches and rooflines of ordinary homes. The 16mm stock is heavily granulated, a texture that adds a layer of spectral distance between the subject and the viewer. It feels like watching a dream that is slowly dissolving.
In one specific sequence, the camera pans across a series of unidentified locations. The movement is jerky, almost frantic, as if Jones was aware that his time—and his film stock—was limited. This isn't the smooth, calculated movement found in The Lost City. It is raw. It is urgent. It is the work of a man trying to capture everything before it vanishes into the Oklahoma dust.
The lighting is entirely natural, often harsh, casting deep shadows across the faces of those who occasionally wander into the frame. These aren't actors; they are neighbors. Their discomfort with the camera is palpable, providing a level of authenticity that scripted dramas like Sinners could never replicate. The lack of artifice is the film's greatest strength.
The most striking element of Film 25 is the recurring imagery of tombs. Jones spends a significant amount of time documenting cemeteries, and the effect is deeply unsettling. There is a stark contrast between the vibrant, if silent, life of the residences and the cold permanence of the stone markers. In these moments, the film transcends mere home-movie status and becomes a meditation on legacy.
Compare this to the way death is handled in The Leavenworth Case. In that film, death is a plot point, a mystery to be solved. In Film 25, death is a neighbor. It is part of the landscape. The camera doesn't shy away from the graves; it treats them with the same observational respect as the houses. It is a brutal, simple reality.
I found myself captivated by a shot of a weathered tombstone in an unidentified location. The name is illegible, worn away by time and the elements. It serves as a perfect metaphor for the film itself—a fragment of a larger story that we can only partially read. The silence of the film amplifies this feeling of loss. We see the names, but we cannot hear the stories.
Is Film 25 worth your time in the age of high-definition blockbusters?
Yes, Film 25 is worth watching because it offers a rare, unvarnished look at a specific time and place in American history. It is a visual record of a community that was often ignored by the history books. While it lacks a narrative, the historical value of seeing Eufaula through the eyes of Solomon Sir Jones is immense. It is a haunting, necessary experience for anyone interested in the roots of American cinema.
There is a tendency to dismiss amateur footage as inferior, but Film 25 proves that the "amateur" eye can sometimes see more clearly than the professional one. Jones isn't trying to sell us a story or a moral. He is simply saying, "This existed." This is a far cry from the moralizing found in Nathan der Weise.
The pacing is admittedly difficult. There are no cuts to build tension, no close-ups to emphasize emotion. The film just flows, or rather, it stutters along. Some might find this boring. I found it hypnotic. It forces you to look closer. You start to notice the details: the way a woman adjusts her hat, the specific construction of a wooden fence, the way the light hits the Oklahoma soil. These details are the heart of the film.
It is a stark contrast to the genre-heavy works like The Gorgona or the adventurous spirit of The Big Adventure. Film 25 doesn't need to go anywhere. It is content to stay exactly where it is, rooted in the dirt of Eufaula. This stillness is its most radical quality.
Pros:
- Unparalleled historical authenticity.
- Visceral 16mm texture that feels like a physical connection to the past.
- A rare look at 1920s Black middle-class life and domesticity.
- Emotionally resonant imagery of local tombs.
Cons:
- No narrative structure or character development.
- Technical limitations lead to shaky footage and poor lighting in spots.
- Can be difficult to sit through for those accustomed to modern pacing.
A large portion of Film 25 takes place in locations that remain unidentified. This is where the film becomes truly poignant. We see people, houses, and streets that were clearly important to Jones, yet their names and specific histories have been lost to time. It’s a frustrating experience, similar to watching Crossed Wires and losing the signal halfway through.
However, this anonymity adds to the film's power. These unidentified locations represent the millions of stories from this era that were never recorded. Jones managed to save a few minutes of tape, but the vast majority of this world is gone. The film is a reminder of how fragile our history is. It works. But it’s flawed. The flaws are what make it human.
In one scene, a group of children stands near a residence. They stare directly into the lens. They are curious, perhaps a bit wary. In that moment, the 100-year gap between the viewer and the subject disappears. It is a punchy, direct connection. It’s better than the artificial sentimentality of The Little Boy Scout because it is real.
Film 25 is not a movie in the traditional sense, but it is an essential piece of the American cinematic puzzle. Solomon Sir Jones captured a world that was never meant to be seen by the masses, and in doing so, he created something more lasting than any Hollywood fiction. It is a difficult, grainy, silent journey into the heart of Oklahoma. It is not always easy to watch, but it is impossible to forget. It lacks the polish of Thundergate or the humor of Chickens, but it possesses a soul that those films often lack. Watch it for the history. Stay for the ghosts.
IMDb 7.3
1920
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