Cult Review
Senior Film Conservator

Honestly, if you're a history nerd or just someone who loves the crackle of old film stock, you'll probably dig this. If you’re looking for a smooth, modern narrative, you’ll hate how jumpy and aggressive the editing is. It’s a relic, but a loud one.
Watching The March of Time feels like someone is shouting headlines at you from the back of a crowded room. It’s not interested in letting you catch your breath.
The first bit about the U.S. Army is all spit-polish and gear. It’s strangely hypnotic watching them march in perfect unison, even if you know it’s mostly for the cameras. It lacks the messiness of something like Making Good, which felt a bit more grounded in human error.
The segment on Father Coughlin is the real hook here. The guy had this weird, booming energy that translates perfectly to the grainy black and white. It’s unsettling how much he could whip up a crowd just by leaning into a microphone.
The transition into the Stavisky scandal in France feels like a total gear shift. One minute you’re in a quiet American training camp, and the next you're looking at a train wreck and people rioting in Paris. It’s whiplash.
It’s funny to compare this to the sillier stuff like Should Sailors Marry?. This film is trying so hard to be taken seriously. It wants to be the voice of truth, but it ends up feeling like a high-octane rumor mill.
I found myself wondering who actually sat in a theater and watched these before the main feature. Were they bored? Did they actually care about the Stavisky thing? Probably just waiting for the popcorn.
The whole thing ends abruptly, too. No wrap-up, no polite goodbye. Just black screen. It’s an oddly disjointed experience, but that’s exactly why it’s worth watching once. It’s a window into a world that was moving way too fast for its own good.
Year
1935
IMDb Rating
—

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Deciphering the legacy of transgressive cult cinema.
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