The Audition (1933) is basically a loud, sweaty time capsule

If you have about ten minutes to spare and want to feel like you’ve been shoved into a dusty theater in 1933, The Audition is worth a look. It is definitely for people who enjoy Vaudeville history or just like watching people do things with their feet that seem physically impossible. Most people will probably hate it because there is literally no plot, just a bunch of guys in suits playing trumpets.

It starts off with Phil Emerton and his band. Phil has this wide, slightly terrifying grin that never really leaves his face. He looks like he’s trying to sell you a used car while conducting a jazz number.

The music is loud. Like, really loud for a recording this old. You can almost hear the film grain scratching against the brass instruments. It’s got that tinny, sharp sound that makes your dog tilt its head.

Then we get the guest performers. This is where the movie actually gets interesting. Larry & Larry show up, and no, I don’t know why they are both named Larry. Maybe it was a requirement for the act.

They are acrobatic tap dancers. They don't just tap; they sort of launch themselves into the air and land perfectly on the beat. My knees hurt just watching them. There is one moment where they do a synchronized slide that feels like it shouldn't work on that small stage.

The camera doesn't really move at all. It just sits there, staring at them. It feels very much like a stage play, which is typical for these early Vitaphone shorts. If you've seen The Piano Mover, you know the vibe—it's that 'let’s just point the camera at something and hope for the best' energy.

There is a girl singer too, but her name escapes me because the band is playing so fast it feels like they are racing to the finish line. She has that very specific 1930s vocal style where every word is clipped and bouncy. It’s charming, I guess, but mostly I was just waiting for the dancers to come back.

I noticed one of the trumpet players in the back looks bored out of his mind. He’s just sitting there, waiting for his cue, looking at the floor. I love seeing stuff like that in these old films. It reminds you these were just real people working a job on a Tuesday.

The whole thing feels a bit disorganized. Like they just rounded everyone up and said, "Okay, do your thing, we’re rolling." It lacks the polish of something like Three Faces East, but that’s also why it’s fun. It’s messy.

One of the Larrys (I think it was the one on the left) almost trips at one point, or maybe it was a fancy move? I rewatched it twice and I still can't tell. The ambiguity is the best part.

The lighting is pretty harsh. Everyone has these deep shadows under their eyes that make them look like they haven’t slept since 1929. It gives the whole thing a slightly haunted feeling if you look at it too long.

It's weirdly hypnotic watching the drummer. He’s doing a lot of extra flourishes that probably weren't necessary, but he’s really leaning into it. You can tell he knows he’s being filmed for posterity.

Unlike something more 'prestige' from the era like Young April, this short isn't trying to be art. It's just trying to fill ten minutes in a movie house before the main feature starts. There is something honest about that.

I wonder what happened to the two Larrys. Did they keep dancing until their joints gave out? Did they go into insurance? The movie doesn't care, and neither should you, really. It’s just a flash of energy from a long time ago.

The ending is abrupt. They finish the song, Phil Emerton gives one last terrifying smile, and the screen goes black. No credits, no fuss. It just stops.

Is it a masterpiece? No. But it's loud and fast and the dancing is genuinely impressive. If you like seeing the early days of sound film when everything was a bit of a gamble, give it a go. Just don't expect a story or anything resembling character development. 🎷🕺