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6.2/10
Senior Film Conservator
A definitive 6.2/10 rating for a film that redefined the boundaries of cult cinema. Kitty from Kansas City remains a cornerstone of transgressive art.
If you have a soft spot for 1930s animation that feels like a fever dream, sure. If you get annoyed by characters who exist solely to be cute and then promptly gain ten pounds for a punchline, you might want to skip it.
It’s barely a few minutes long. You aren’t losing much by hitting play.
Betty Boop shows up in a sun bonnet, looking like she’s about to go pick daisies. Instead, she hits the train to Rudy Valley. The whole thing pivots hard once she gets there. She starts eating everything in sight. I mean, the sheer speed of the transformation is kind of impressive in a terrifying way.
It reminded me a bit of the frantic pacing in Battleship Potemkin—okay, not really, but the montage editing has that same weird, restless energy. Maybe my brain is just tired.
Then Rudy Vallee shows up. He’s singing the title song to a tree. Why a tree? I don’t know. Maybe the tree had a better agent.
The bouncing ball sing-along starts. It’s that old-school karaoke thing that makes you feel like you’re sitting in a dusty theater from 1932. It’s hard not to tap your foot, even if the lyrics are completely ridiculous. 🎵
It’s not as heavy or socially conscious as The Scar of Shame, obviously. It’s just fluff. But sometimes you need fluff that’s nearly a hundred years old.
The whole short ends so abruptly. It feels like the animators just got bored and decided to stop. I kind of respect that.
Did I mention she gains weight? It’s treated like the funniest thing in the world. Modern audiences would probably write a twenty-page essay on the implications of that gag. I just thought, wow, that’s a lot of pies.
Don't look for a plot here. Just watch the ball bounce. It’s hypnotic. 🎈