The Firebird is a messy, moody little puzzle

Should you watch The Firebird today? Maybe. If you’re the kind of person who enjoys watching a murder mystery unfold in a stuffy living room where everyone is clearly hiding something, you’ll have a decent time. If you need pacing that actually moves or characters who aren't just archetypes walking through a script, skip it.

Cinematic perspective: Exploring the visual vocabulary of The Firebird (1934) through its definitive frames.

It starts with Herman Brandt, a guy so insufferable you honestly can’t blame anyone for wanting him dead. He’s the neighbor from hell, harassing Carola Pointer until the whole family is ready to pack up and leave just to get away from him. Then, surprise, Brandt ends up cold on the floor.

Cinematic perspective: Exploring the visual vocabulary of The Firebird (1934) through its definitive frames.

The movie really settles into its rhythm once the police arrive, led by an Inspector Muller who seems to enjoy watching people squirm way too much. It feels less like a gritty crime story and more like a high-stakes tea party where someone might get arrested at any moment. The dialogue is snappy, maybe a bit too written for its own good, but it works.

Cinematic perspective: Exploring the visual vocabulary of The Firebird (1934) through its definitive frames.

I couldn't help but think about how much this reminded me of the claustrophobia in The Kiss Before the Mirror. Both films have that same sense of a domestic space turning into a trap.

Cinematic perspective: Exploring the visual vocabulary of The Firebird (1934) through its definitive frames.

The little things

• The lighting in the hallway during the murder scene is bizarrely dramatic for no reason.
• Wait, is that a dog in the background just staring at the wall for three straight minutes?
• The Pointers have the most suspiciously pristine furniture for a family supposedly stressed out by a stalker.
• There’s a specific reaction shot of the housekeeper that lasts about five seconds too long. It’s hilarious.

The middle of the film sags a bit, mostly because it gets caught up in trying to explain the "hidden complexities" of the family tree. You kind of just want them to get back to the interrogation room. The Inspector is the only one having any real fun here, constantly circling the Pointers like a shark in a wool suit.

Cinematic perspective: Exploring the visual vocabulary of The Firebird (1934) through its definitive frames.

It’s not perfect. The transition between scenes feels like it was cut with a pair of rusty garden shears. But there’s a weird, grumpy charm to the whole thing that kept me watching until the credits rolled.

Don't expect to be blown away by some grand revelation about human nature. It’s just a solid, slightly dusty whodunit that feels like a forgotten relic from a rainy afternoon at the cinema. Just don't ask me to explain why the Inspector keeps fiddling with that fountain pen during the climax.