4.2/10
Archivist John
Senior Editor

A definitive 4.2/10 rating for a film that redefined the boundaries of cult cinema. The Morrissey & Miller Night Club Revue remains a cornerstone of transgressive art.
You should probably only watch this if you are a massive nerd for film history or if you have run out of literally everything else on the internet. It is worth it if you want to see what people thought was hilarious back when phones had cranks on the side. Most people will probably hate the hissing audio and the way the camera never moves, though.
It’s a Vitaphone short, which means it’s one of those early sound experiments where they just pointed a camera at a stage and hoped for the best. Bryan Foy directed this, and you can tell he was mostly just trying to make sure everyone stayed inside the frame. The whole thing feels like you are watching a ghost story that happens to have tap dancing.
The sound is honestly terrible. It’s got that crunchy, staticy noise that makes you feel like you need to clean your ears out. But that’s part of the charm, I guess. It sounds like the 1920s trying to scream through a pillow.
The humor is... well, it is very 1929. There is a bit about a marriage that feels like it belongs in a museum of bad jokes. I didn't laugh, but I did squint at the screen trying to figure out if I missed a word because of the audio hiss. It’s much more static than something like Hot Water, which actually has some energy to it.
I noticed the makeup on the actors is incredibly thick. Because of the lights they used back then, everyone looks like they are wearing a mask made of white flour. It gives the whole thing a slightly spooky vibe that I don't think they intended. The shadows on the back wall are huge and distracting, too.
There is a dance number where the girl’s legs move so fast they become a grey blur. It’s impressive because she’s doing it on a stage that looks about the size of a postage stamp. I kept waiting for her to accidentally kick the piano player in the head. He looks like he’s bored out of his mind, by the way.
One guy in the background just stands there for like three minutes. He doesn't move. He doesn't blink. I started wondering if he was a cardboard cutout until he finally shifted his weight. It’s little weird details like that which make these old shorts fun to poke at.
If you’ve seen Harold Teen, you know that era had a very specific, hyper-active way of performing. This is like that, but trapped in a very small room. It feels claustrophobic. Like they were afraid if they moved too far to the left, they’d fall off the planet.
The costumes are these glittery, feathery messes that probably looked amazing in person. On this old film stock, they just look like shimmering grey blobs. You can see the sweat on Bryan Foy’s forehead at one point, which is a nice human touch. It reminds you that it was probably 100 degrees under those studio lights.
The ending comes out of nowhere. It just sort of... stops. No big finale, just a quick fade and it’s over. It’s like the film reel just gave up. It’s not quite as dramatic as The Lost Paradise, but it has that same feeling of a lost world.
I wouldn't call this a 'movie' in the way we think of them now. It’s more like a digital fossil. It’s janky and the jokes are dusty, but it’s real. You are seeing people who have been dead for a long time trying their absolute hardest to make a crowd laugh.
The piano player finally smiles at the very end. It’s the most authentic moment in the whole ten minutes. He looks so relieved that the recording is finally over. I felt that spiritually.
Anyway, watch it if you want a weird ten-minute trip to the past. Don't expect to actually understand all the slang. 🎷

IMDb —
1928
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