Kiki (1932) Review: A Loud, Lovable Old-Time Romp

Kiki (1932) is a real curiosity, a vibrant little peek into early talkies that isn't for *everyone* today. If you're someone who loves digging into film history, especially the transition to sound, or if you're a big fan of Anny Ondra's energetic screen presence, then yeah, give it a shot. But if you're hoping for something with modern pacing or a subtle touch, you'll probably find it a bit much. It's a loud, often frantic comedy that feels very much of its time. 🤷‍♀️

The Sheer Audacity of Kiki Herself

Okay, so Kiki. Anny Ondra plays her, and wow, what a performance. She's this chorus girl, right? Barely a walk-on. But she's got eyes for the theater director, played by Hermann Thimig. The problem is, he’s totally oblivious, completely wrapped up in his star, who is also his lover. And Kiki? She just decides, this director, he's the one.

Her plan is simple: move in. Not like, ask to move in. She just *does*. It's a bit wild, honestly. Like, how does a person just *decide* to live in someone else's fancy apartment? The film doesn't really explain it, but Ondra sells the sheer force of will behind it. She's got this big personality that just barrels through any logic.

One scene, she’s just there, in his house, making herself comfortable. The director comes home and he’s like, “Who are you? What are you doing here?” And she just… smiles. It's classic old-school comedy, very broad. You almost expect her to trip over a rug or something.

That Early Talkie Vibe

You can really feel this is an early sound film. The dialogue, sometimes it's a little stilted, a little over-pronounced. Everyone has to be very precise because, I guess, the microphones were probably huge and unforgiving. It’s charming in its own way, like watching a stage play from a very good seat. The way they pace out the jokes, too, it’s not snappy by today’s standards. There’s a beat, then another beat, then maybe a reaction. A lot of *looks*.

The sets, they’re pretty grand, for a 1932 picture anyway. The director's apartment, with its big furniture and high ceilings, feels very European. Very dramatic. You can almost smell the old wood and the stage makeup. 🎭

Anny Ondra, she's the whole show. She has this *bouncy* energy that's infectious. She’s constantly moving, her eyes wide, her expressions big. Some might find it a bit much, maybe even a little grating after a while, but it's hard to look away. She practically vibrates with enthusiasm. It's less acting and more like she's just *being* Kiki, all the time. She never lets up.

The Director's Ordeal (and Ours)

Hermann Thimig as the director, he's the perfect straight man to Ondra's whirlwind. He spends a lot of the movie looking utterly perplexed, then annoyed, then slowly, very slowly, resigned. There's a moment where he just sighs, a big, long sigh, when Kiki does something particularly outrageous. It’s quite funny, you know, the way he just accepts his fate. His face tells a whole story.

The film handles the breakup with his current star rather quickly. It's not a huge dramatic confrontation. Kiki just kind of… makes herself impossible to ignore. She's not even trying to be malicious, I don't think. Just entirely self-absorbed in her quest for love. She sees what she wants and goes for it, full throttle. No apologies.

There's this one scene, Kiki is humming loudly while he's trying to work, and he just keeps trying to shush her. She stops for a second, then starts up again even louder. The director's patience is tested constantly. You can almost feel the tension in the room, but it’s always played for laughs.

• Didja notice?
• Kiki's wardrobe is surprisingly chic, even when she's supposed to be poor.
• The way the director always straightens his tie when he's stressed.
• A weirdly long shot of a telephone ringing and ringing.
• The film gets noticeably better once the director stops taking himself so seriously.
• There's a great little bit where she imitates someone, and it’s spot-on.

It’s a frothy, silly film that doesn’t ask much of you except to enjoy the ride. It’s not profound, not trying to be. It’s just Kiki, causing a whole kerfuffle and getting what she wants. If you’re into the quirks of early cinema, it’s a fun, if loud, watch. If you're looking for deep character studies, well, Manslaughter might be more your speed. But for pure, unadulterated old-school charm, Kiki delivers. 🥳