Film 28 Review: A Quiet Stroll Through History, Not a Movie

Alright, let’s be super clear up front: Film 28 isn’t a movie in the way you probably think of one. There’s no plot, no dialogue, no actors performing a script. Seriously, none of that. If you’re looking for a narrative, for a story to follow, you are going to be very bored. Probably even a little frustrated. Just fast-forward now. 🎬

But! If you’re someone who loves history, who gets a kick out of seeing raw, unvarnished glimpses of the past, then pull up a chair. This is a quiet, sometimes peculiar, trip back in time, and it’s pretty special for what it is.

The film, if we can call it that, is really a series of captured moments, likely by Solomon Sir Jones. It feels like someone just pointed a camera at life happening, with no grand plan beyond observation. And that’s where its real charm lies, I think.

The opening scenes with the Baptists are, for me, the most striking. You see people gathering, dressed in what looks like their Sunday best, by a body of water. The sheer *reverence* in the air, even without sound, is palpable.

Watching the immersions, the way the light hits the water and their faces, it’s so intimate. It almost feels like you’re not supposed to be watching, like you’ve stumbled into a private, sacred moment. The feeling of community, of shared belief, really comes through.

Then, suddenly, the scene shifts completely. We’re looking at cars and trucks… on a train. Just, sitting there, being transported. There’s no explanation, no context at all, just this oddly mesmerizing visual of vehicles on flatbeds, rolling along.

It’s a peculiar thing to film, and it makes you wonder about the logistics, the journey these cars were on. Like, what’s the story there? *We’ll never know.*

The footage jumps around quite a bit, like someone flipping through an old photo album. You get quick flashes of different places: Tulsa, Oklahoma; Ransom, Indiana; Coweta, Oklahoma; Wybark, Oklahoma. Sometimes the location is clear, sometimes it’s just… somewhere.

One of my favorite bits is the footrace in Tulsa. Kids, or maybe young adults, just sprinting down a dusty road. It’s chaotic, joyful, and completely unpolished.

The camera struggles to keep up, a little shaky, which only adds to the authenticity. You can almost feel the dust kicking up. It’s a perfect little snippet of pure, uncomplicated energy.

There are these small, almost accidental details that really grab you. A person glancing directly at the camera, a dog wandering casually through a shot, completely oblivious. These tiny things make it feel incredibly real, like a ghost of a moment captured.

The quality of the film varies wildly too. Some parts are surprisingly crisp, letting you make out faces and details with clarity. Other sections are faded, grainy, almost abstract. It adds to the feeling of discovering an old, fragile relic.

What this film does, without trying, is make you think about time. About all the lives that have been lived, all the everyday moments that pass unrecorded. It’s not profound in a grand, cinematic way, but in a quiet, deeply human one.

So, yeah, Film 28 is definitely not for everyone. But if you're open to a different kind of viewing experience, one that asks you to observe and reflect rather than just consume a story, it's a unique artifact. A genuine piece of history, just… happening. And sometimes, that’s more interesting than any blockbuster.

Didja notice?

• The way the men help the women into the water during the baptisms, so careful.
• One of the cars on the train looked like a Ford Model T. Classic!
• The kids during the race, they’re really *going for it*. No holding back.
• How quickly the scenes cut sometimes, almost jarring.
• The lack of any sound makes you really focus on the visuals.
• Some of the frames feel like a perfectly composed photograph, even though they’re moving.