Die singende Stadt Review: Jan Kiepura Sings Way Too Loudly

Is it worth the watch?

If you like old movies where people burst into song every four minutes for no reason, you’ll probably dig this. It is a perfect Sunday afternoon movie for people who miss the 1930s European vibe.

If you hate high-pitched tenors or movies where the audio sounds like it was recorded inside a tin can, stay far away. Seriously.

So, I finally sat down with Die singende Stadt (The Singing City). It is one of those early sound films that feels like nobody was quite sure where to put the microphones yet.

The movie starts in Naples, and it is bright. Like, squint-your-eyes bright.

We meet Giovanni, played by Jan Kiepura. He is a tour guide, but mostly he is just a guy who wants everyone to know he has huge lungs.

He sings while he walks. He sings while he eats. He probably sings in his sleep.

Kiepura has this smile that feels a bit like he’s trying to sell you a used car while hitting a high C. It’s a lot to take in at first.

He’s charming, I guess? But in that way where you’d want to move to the next train car after five minutes.

Then we have Claire, the rich widow. Brigitte Helm plays her, and wow, she is the complete opposite of Giovanni.

She looks like she’s made of marble. Cold, expensive marble that might fall on you and crush you if you look at it wrong.

She hears him singing and decides, "Yep, I want that one." Not as a husband, really, but as a project.

It reminds me a little bit of the setup in Bright Lights, where someone gets plucked from obscurity, though this feels more... European.

They go to Germany. This is where the movie gets a bit clunky.

The shift from sunny Naples to these stiff, dark German drawing rooms is almost funny. It feels like the movie suddenly put on a tie and forgot how to relax.

Giovanni is supposed to be training for the opera, but Claire just wants to show him off to her fancy friends. She spends most of her time flirting with every guy in the room who isn't him.

There is this one scene at a party where the camera just lingers on Giovanni’s face while he watches her talk to some guy with a monocle. He looks so confused.

I felt bad for him, but also, buddy, you knew what this was. You’re a tour guide in a tuxedo now.

The sound quality is... well, it's 1930. There is a constant hiss in the background that sounds like someone is frying bacon in the next room.

Sometimes the music starts and it’s so much louder than the talking that I had to reach for the volume knob. My poor ears.

Brigitte Helm is really the reason to watch this. She doesn't have to do much.

She just stands there with these heavy eyelids and looks bored, and it’s more interesting than anything Giovanni is doing with his mouth open.

The way she looks at him is like she’s looking at a puppy that just peed on the rug. Fascinated, but also annoyed.

There are some side characters too, but I couldn't tell you their names if you paid me. They’re just there to fill up the background, like the extras in Idaho Red.

One guy has a mustache that is so perfectly groomed it looks fake. I spent ten minutes just staring at it during a dialogue scene.

I think his name was Teddy? Or maybe that was the actor. Either way, the mustache deserved a separate credit.

The plot is thin. It’s paper thin. It’s the kind of plot that would blow away if someone sneezed too hard on set.

It’s basically: Man sings. Woman takes man. Man gets jealous. Man sings more. The end.

It’s very much like Up the Ladder in how it handles the social climbing, but with more Italian folk songs.

There is a weirdly specific moment where Giovanni is trying to practice and a piano player is just... staring at him. Not playing, just staring.

It goes on for about ten seconds too long. It felt like the actor forgot his cue or the director went to get a coffee.

I like these little mistakes. They make the movie feel human.

Modern movies are so polished you can't see the seams. Here, the seams are everywhere. It’s held together with tape and hope.

There’s another movie called Shadows of Suspicion that has a similar "early talkie" awkwardness, but this one is louder.

The ending is kind of a letdown. It just sort of... happens.

I won't spoil it, but it feels like they realized they were running out of film and just decided to wrap it up.

Giovanni makes a choice, Claire makes a face, and the credits roll. Boom. Done.

Is it a masterpiece? No. Not even close. It’s a bit of a mess, honestly.

But it’s a charming mess. It’s a postcard from a time when movies were still trying to figure out how to talk and sing at the same time.

I found myself humming one of the tunes later, which is annoying because I don't even like tenors that much.

If you want to see Brigitte Helm looking like a queen and Jan Kiepura acting like a golden retriever, give it a look. Just keep your hand on the volume button.

Oh, and look for the scene with the boat. The water looks so fake it’s actually beautiful. ⛵