Barbara Rubin and the Exploding NY Underground

In 1964 a 29 minute experimental short called Christmas on Earth shocked New York audiences with jagged edits, intimate scenes and overlapping projections. It broke with the era's clean narratives and announced a new voice in the downtown film world. The creator was Barbara Rubin, an 18 year old whose fearless curiosity and hands on approach to moving images would influence a generation. Rubin moved in circles with Andy Warhol, the Velvet Underground, Bob Dylan and Allen Ginsberg, weaving art and life into a single restless thread. Her later life pushed boundaries within Orthodox Judaism and she died at 35. Jonas Mekas saved Rubin's letters, and Chuck Smith shapes them into a portrait that reclaims her place in film history.

Directed by Chuck Smith, Barbara Rubin and the Exploding NY Underground compiles archival footage, Rubin letters saved by Jonas Mekas, and contemporary interviews to map Rubin’s brief but detonating role in 1960s New York cinema. It also situates the material within the broader cultural upheavals shaping downtown art. The film's pacing mirrors Rubin's gif like rhythm and communal energy that defined their scene.

Box office data for this documentary is not publicly reported and it has mostly circulated through film festivals and curated screenings rather than wide release. It has circulated mainly through venues that celebrate experimental film, including select retrospectives and live score events, rather than mass theater distribution.

No major award nominations are listed for the film, but critics have praised its archival craft and the way Smith centers Rubin as a landmark figure rather than a footnote, highlighting the dialogue between memory and film history. This approach recasts Rubin as a catalyst.

This film frames Rubin as a boundary pushing force, linking gender, faith and art. Critics praise its patient archival handling, turning a marginal figure into a resonant voice of a turbulent New York era while the letters and interviews give Rubin a living presence. Its pace lets Rubin's voice breathe, letting the archive tell its own story.