Kiss and Make-Up: A weird little time capsule of 1930s charm

Is it worth the watch?

If you have a soft spot for pre-code comedies that don't take themselves too seriously, you’ll probably enjoy Kiss and Make-Up. It’s light, it’s fluffy, and it moves fast enough that you don't have to think too hard about the ethics of plastic surgery in the 1930s. If you’re looking for something with actual stakes or depth, skip it.

Cinematic perspective: Exploring the visual vocabulary of Kiss and Make-Up (1934) through its definitive frames.

Cary Grant plays a doctor who essentially runs a factory for beautiful people. He’s the star, obviously, and he carries the whole thing on his shoulders with that signature smirk. The secretary character is there, looking longingly at him, which felt a bit dated even for the time, if I'm being honest.

Cinematic perspective: Exploring the visual vocabulary of Kiss and Make-Up (1934) through its definitive frames.

There’s a strange energy in the clinic scenes. It’s like the movie wants to be a sophisticated romance but occasionally dips into this weird, frantic comedy that feels like it belongs in a totally different film. It reminded me a bit of the frantic pace you see in

Cinematic perspective: Exploring the visual vocabulary of Kiss and Make-Up (1934) through its definitive frames.

The little things I noticed

• The sets feel a bit like they were built out of cardboard and optimism.
• Cary Grant’s suits are, predictably, the best thing on screen.
• The dialogue is snappy, but sometimes it just stops mid-scene, leaving the actors to just kind of stand there looking pretty.
• One of the patients has a reaction shot that lasts about three seconds too long. It’s kind of funny if you stare at it.

It’s not as polished as the later stuff he did, but there’s a rawness here that’s interesting. You can see him figuring out exactly how to hold a room’s attention. He’s not quite the polished icon yet, just a guy with a great jawline and a lot of ambition.

Cinematic perspective: Exploring the visual vocabulary of Kiss and Make-Up (1934) through its definitive frames.

The pacing is a bit of a mess. It jumps from scene to scene with zero transition, like someone cut the film with a pair of rusty scissors. I didn't mind it, honestly. It keeps the energy high, even when the script is clearly running on fumes.

Cinematic perspective: Exploring the visual vocabulary of Kiss and Make-Up (1934) through its definitive frames.

Honestly, watching this made me want to go back and watch The Light at Dusk just to see if I’m losing my mind with these old black and white titles. This one is a bit of a throwaway, but it’s a pleasant enough way to burn an hour if you’re tired of modern stuff. ☕

It’s not great art. It’s just a movie that exists to show off some nice dresses and Grant’s charm. Sometimes that’s enough.