Cult Review
Senior Film Conservator

If you have a thing for historical artifacts or old-school sports photography, sure. But if you’re looking for a narrative or something with a pulse, you’ll probably find this dry as a bone.
It’s really just a series of clips stitched together. Don't go in expecting a story like Mary of Scotland or the comedy found in Three Little Pigskins.
It’s weird watching this now. You see the crowds, the flags, and then there’s Hitler, popping up in the frame from every possible angle. It’s unsettling, honestly. The camera can't seem to look away.
The sports coverage is surprisingly varied for such a short runtime. You get high jumps, some swimming, and a whole lot of people running in circles. It’s all very 1930s—the film stock is scratchy and the pacing is frantic.
There's this one moment where a runner just collapses after a race. The camera lingers on him for a second too long, and you can see the exhaustion—not the 'movie' kind, but the real, ugly kind. It’s the only part that felt actually human.
I found myself wondering who was actually holding the camera. They were definitely working hard to catch everything. It’s not a masterpiece, and it’s not really trying to be. It’s just... there. A record of a weird, heavy summer in Europe.
Maybe skip it unless you're writing a paper or something. It’s not quite as fun as digging into a silent flick like The Rosary. 🎞️
—

Editorial
Deciphering the legacy of transgressive cult cinema.
Community
Log in to comment.