Secrets of Hollywood: A Dusty Trip Through a Scrapbook

Is this for you?

Look, if you aren't the type of person who digs through archives at 2 AM or has a weird love for 1930s studio filler, you're going to be bored out of your mind. It’s not really a "movie" in the way we expect today, but more like a collection of memories held together by thin thread. If you hate slow pacing or films that feel like a glorified slideshow, steer clear. Seriously.

The whole thing starts with Mae Busch and her friends hanging out at the studio. They’re just flipping through a pile of photos, reminiscing about the old days. It feels oddly intimate, like you’ve accidentally walked into someone’s living room while they’re looking through a family album. But then—and this is where it gets strange—the photos start to come alive.

It’s not exactly groundbreaking stuff. But there’s a certain charm to how they transition between the static images and the moving footage. It’s clunky. You can tell the budget was basically zero, but maybe that’s why I didn't turn it off.

Cinematic perspective: Exploring the visual vocabulary of Secrets of Hollywood (1933) through its definitive frames.

Odd Little Moments

There's this moment where Mae looks at a still and you can see her actually trying to remember who that person was. It felt less like acting and more like she was actually looking at a ghost. That kind of stuff is why I watch these old things. It’s the human texture.

• The transitions are jarring, almost like a jump-cut from a dream.
• The audio quality is... well, let's call it 'atmospheric.'
• Watching these people try to look natural while pointing at a photo is hilarious.

Honestly, it reminds me a bit of the vibe in His Majesty, Bunker Bean, where you get that sense of a time long gone just slipping through the cracks. It’s not polished. It’s definitely not perfect. But it has a heartbeat, which is more than I can say for a lot of modern stuff I've seen lately.

The dialogue is often just people standing around saying things like, "Oh, remember that time?" It’s not Shakespeare, but it feels lived-in. It’s like watching people at a party where the host has clearly had one too many and is stuck on a loop. You just kind of go with it.

I wouldn't call this a masterpiece. I wouldn't even call it a 'good' movie by normal standards. But it’s an artifact. It’s a weird, messy little artifact that keeps you watching just to see what photo they pull out next. Sometimes that's enough.