The article that most piqued my interest out of the three selected was the piece written by Caroline Golum, “Cinema Year Zero,” in which she examines the rise and status of TikTok as a filmic medium and platform in reference to its thematic and conventional roots in early silent film. Golum analyses the cultural and technological climate that accentuates and spreads specific trends through TikTok and out into other platforms as a natural extension of the lowering barriers to entry for filmmaking in the modern day, as a distant but clearly traceable relative of the films produced around the turn of the 20th century. Each of the three articles eventually examine Lumiere’s The Sprinkler Sprinkled (1895) as a quintessential example of early filmmaking and comic short-form storytelling, with Golum’s assessment tying it to an ancestor of two daughters spraying their father with a garden hose on TikTok.
While the central thesis of Golum’s article, that formal aspects of TikTok’s filmmaking can be clearly assessed in comparison with several pieces of early filmmaking, I believe that Golum is approaching the issue rather teleologically, reading TikTok as an inevitable consequence of the evolution of filmmaking and the increasing access to constantly improving recording technology, rather than as a result of a disconnect between young people and traditional comic media distribution. Even Golum’s assessment in the rise of TikTok is, in my view, glaringly incomplete, as she covers the app’s origin and merging with Musical.ly while ignoring the app’s obvious ancestor in Vine. Vine was a social media platform that originated and died in the mid 2010s which, similarly to Tik-Tok, allowed users to produce and share short-form content. The stark difference between the two apps was that Vine allowed for videos of a maximum six seconds, while TikToks typically last under a minute. Vine was shut down during a time when TikToks were primarily dance videos and lip syncing, and the platform shifted in the vacuum that Vine left behind. Vine is responsible for launching careers of the famous and infamous such as David Dobrik, the Paul brothers, singers Ruth B. and Left at London, many of Youtube’s most prominent creators, as well as comedian and filmmaker Bo Burnham. Burnham’s Vines, in particular, feel like a natural older sibling to the multitude of different avenues that TikTok’s creates now utilise. The hokey wordplay genre of comedy that Golum demonstrates through Eliza Peterson’s “meatier/meteor” can be seen in one of Burnham’s most famous Vines, “This is my Jam”. The sardonic energy Golum assessed in the “toxic-boyfriend-Toks” and in Derekisstraight’s “internet oversharing” can equally be seen in Burnham’s “I’m gonna die alone”.
As I’ve said a few times thus far, it’s not really possible to disagree with Golum’s claim that TikTok demonstrates a certain kinship with the forefathers of silent screen comedy. It is in the fine points and details where I disagree with Golum’s arguments. Her initial point comparing the first hugely viral TikTok trend, Jalaih Harmon’s “Renegade dance”, to the Edison Biograph Company’s “Cakewalk,” a depiction of a dance popular in the black community in early 20th century America, that is said to have been originated by enslaved black people in the antebellum south. This comparison is, to a degree, tasteless in my view, tying a young woman’s dance shared willingly on social media to an intimate, culturally significant dance treated as a curiosity, filmed and profited off of by a wealthy white “inventor” (clever thief) in Thomas Edison. Frankly, the claim that TikTok has contributed to “White America’s wholesale co-opting of Black [culture]” is an interesting point and, if handled with nuance, could be truly insightful into issues like speech and language and how (momentarily excusing the very loaded terms that are about to follow) AAVE and ebonics have been adopted by young people regardless of race. Instead, the above comparison between Jalaih and the Edison Co. seemingly likens a young girl sharing an original dance to the vampiric practices of the caitiff of Menlo Park. 
Another interesting point that I believe Golum squandered was the aspect of each platforms star-making ability. In comparison with the agency that Mary Pickford won herself, Golum identifies Addison Rae, the Matriarch of TikTok, as a comparable figure for her “‘mainstream’ recognition” in being announced to star in a 2021 remake of She’s All That (1999). As someone who has had the misfortune of consuming He’s All That (2021) I would advise that nobody hold their breath waiting for Ms. Rae’s mainstream breakthrough. In actuality, the monetary value that a figure as popular and followed as Addison Rae would make her, from a purely financial perspective, vastly more valuable a performer than Pickford was in her day. My biggest issue with this piece is that I do not think such an analysis of TikTok and its filmic roots can be assessed at present, just as one cannot paint a house’s exterior if the painter is sat inside of it. A figure like Bo Burnham demonstrates the way that an artist’s early work on a platform can lead elsewhere in their creative lives, with Burnham’s work serving like a sketchbook of sorts when viewed in conjunction with this technically mesmerising comedy special Inside (2021). 
Very insightful post! I agree with your assessment of Golem’s article, because while connecting TikTok to cinema’s inception is intriguing, as you demonstrate it does ultimately seem somewhat vacuous.
Nevertheless, this reminded me of when Joe Russo visited St Andrews last year to give a talk in the Byre (as part of the Sands Film Festival). One of his main talking points was in praise of TikTok’s potential to give hidden talent a chance to show their worth – he stressed how much he enjoys combing through such videos to find people of value that he can then support. To him, these 1 minute videos are legitimate forms of filmmaking. While you do a good job at deconstructing Addison Rae’s potential for mainstream breakthrough, perhaps the real potential from this platform has yet to show itself.
If we were to run with that idea, considering that the early comedy sketches were rudimentary at best and only stepping stones for the silent comedy geniuses Chaplin, Keaton and Lloyd, TikTok (as Vine was before it) can be said to merely be the foundation for the next comedians to define their era. As you state, Burnham has already shown how an artist can ‘grow’ from their origins in ‘basic’ entertainment to craft something that can legitimately be called unique. As easy as it might be to dismiss TikTok in the cinematic teleology, it will be interesting to see what the platform’s impact on the canon is in the years to come.
Aside from that, I’d like to ask if you can elaborate on your comment that TikTok is “a result of a disconnect between young people and traditional comic media distribution.” What flaws do you perceive exist in “traditional comedy” and from what sources? I’m interested by this idea of TikTok as a form of rebellion (if perhaps a subconcious one), as for me, comedy in cinema continues to go strong – albeit now decentralised from the Hollywood hegemony.
I really like your opinion on Golum’s article: I, too, do not see the correlation between the viral Tik Tok “Renegade” dance and the short film “Cakewalk”. I think Golum could have made a lot of better examples instead, such as, like you said in your post, AAVE and how it has been getting more popular since Tik Tokers started using it without acknowledging its cultural background.
I also agree on your perspective on Addison Rae and Mary Pickford: Addison got the role in “He’s all that” simply because she was trending at the time, meanwhile Mary Pickford worked hard to get the recognition she fairly deserved.