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4.8/10
Archivist John
Senior Editor
A definitive 4.8/10 rating for a film that redefined the boundaries of cult cinema. Film 4 remains a cornerstone of transgressive art.
Is Solomon Sir Jones’s Film 4 worth watching today? Short answer: yes, but only if you approach it as a historical excavation rather than a Friday night popcorn flick.
This film is for historians, students of the African Diaspora, and cinephiles who find beauty in the raw, unedited textures of the 1920s. It is emphatically not for those seeking a structured plot, character arcs, or high-definition spectacle. This is a silent, archival experience that demands patience and a keen eye for detail.
1) This film works because it provides an unfiltered, non-caricatured view of Black life in the 1920s, a rarity in an era dominated by Hollywood stereotypes.
2) This film fails because it lacks a cohesive narrative structure, operating as a series of disconnected vignettes that can feel repetitive to the casual viewer.
3) You should watch it if you want to see the real faces of the Harlem Renaissance era outside of the major metropolitan hubs, specifically within the religious and business sectors of the South and Midwest.
Solomon Sir Jones was not a professional filmmaker in the traditional sense; he was a Baptist minister with a 16mm camera and a mission. Film 4 is a testament to that mission. Unlike the theatrical artifice found in Satan's Rhapsody, Jones’s work is grounded in the mundane and the monumental. He captures the architecture of churches in Indianapolis with the same reverence a Hollywood director might reserve for a cathedral.
The cinematography is functional but surprisingly intimate. Jones often positions his camera at eye level, inviting the subjects to acknowledge his presence. In one specific scene in Denison, Texas, the way the subjects stand before their residences suggests a deep sense of pride in ownership. It’s a quiet subversion of the poverty narratives often forced upon this time period. The camera doesn't blink; it records the suits, the hats, and the steady gaze of a people who knew they were being watched by history.
The film moves with a rhythmic, if disjointed, pace across state lines. The transition from the urban density of Indianapolis to the more open, atmospheric shots of New Orleans provides a fascinating study in regional differences. In Nashville and Memphis, the focus shifts heavily toward the ecclesiastical. We see the church not just as a place of worship, but as the social and political engine of the community.
Compare this to the high-adventure escapism of The Lost City. While that film sought to take audiences to imaginary lands, Film 4 grounds us in the very real, very tangible reality of 1920s America. The inclusion of an undertaker’s business is a particularly striking choice. It highlights the full cycle of life within the Black community, managed and cared for by their own. It is a stark reminder of the economic ecosystems that flourished under the radar of the white mainstream.
Let’s be honest: the pacing is non-existent. Because this is essentially a compilation of home movies and community recordings, there is no tension or release. However, there is a hypnotic quality to the silence. Without a score or intertitles, the viewer is forced to focus on the movement—the way a woman adjusts her shawl in New Orleans, or the way men congregate outside a church in Memphis. These small, human gestures are the film's true currency.
The tone is one of dignity. There is no buffoonery here. Jones avoids the traps that even well-meaning white filmmakers of the time often fell into. There is a sense of 'for us, by us' that permeates every frame. It lacks the polish of Nathan der Weise, but it possesses a raw honesty that scripted drama simply cannot replicate. It is a visual diary, and like all diaries, it is occasionally repetitive but always revealing.
If you are looking for a story, no. If you are looking for a soul, yes. Film 4 is an essential artifact for anyone interested in how the Black middle class defined itself during the Jim Crow era. It provides a visual counter-narrative to the history books. It is a slow burn, but the reward is a deeper understanding of American resilience.
Pros:
- Unprecedented access to 1920s Black life.
- Authentic, non-performative subjects.
- Valuable geographical diversity (TX, TN, LA, IN).
- Preserves the legacy of Solomon Sir Jones’s unique eye.
Cons:
- No narrative arc.
- Technical limitations of 1920s 16mm film (grain, occasional blur).
- Can feel like a series of slides rather than a movie.
We must discuss Jones as a director. While he wasn't trying to be Eisenstein, his framing is deliberate. He understands the power of the group shot. In the church sequences, he captures the scale of the congregation, emphasizing the strength in numbers. In the residential shots, he favors the medium shot, capturing the person and their property in a single, affirming frame.
The lighting is entirely natural, which leads to some blown-out skies in the Texas sequences, but it adds to the 'you are there' feeling. There is a specific moment in the Memphis footage where the light hits the front of a church, and for a second, the film transcends its archival status and becomes something approaching high art. It is a moment of accidental grace.
Most films of this era, like The Princess of India, focus on the exotic or the exceptional. Jones focuses on the essential. The inclusion of the undertaker is my favorite part of Film 4. It’s a brutally simple observation of a necessary profession. It shows a community that takes care of its own from cradle to grave. The dignity afforded to this business in the film is a powerful statement on Black autonomy.
It works. But it’s flawed. The flaw lies in its nature as an unedited reel. Without the guiding hand of an editor, the viewer's mind can wander. You have to work to stay engaged. But that work is worth it. You are seeing people who were often erased from the celluloid of their time. They are looking back at you, nearly a century later, and they are demanding to be seen.
"Film 4 is not a movie in the modern sense; it is a ghost that has finally found its voice. It is a vital, if occasionally dry, record of a world that was built with intention and documented with love. It is a necessary correction to the cinematic history of the 1920s."
Ultimately, Solomon Sir Jones has given us a gift that is more valuable than any scripted drama. He has given us the truth. While it may not have the polish of Thundergate, it has a soul that those studio films lack. Watch it for the history. Watch it for the faces. Just don't expect a Hollywood ending.
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1926
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