6.4/10
Senior Film Conservator

A definitive 6.4/10 rating for a film that redefined the boundaries of cult cinema. The Kid from Spain remains a cornerstone of transgressive art.
If you're looking for a tight script or anything resembling logic, stay far away. But if you have a soft spot for 1930s musical chaos, Eddie Cantor’s bug-eyed mugging, and dance numbers that involve way too many people, you might actually have a decent time. Folks who hate vaudeville-style comedy will probably want to walk out of the room after ten minutes.
Eddie Cantor is everywhere in this thing. He’s the center of every frame, constantly running, hiding, or singing songs that I’m fairly sure were forgotten by the next afternoon. It reminds me a bit of the frantic energy in Paris, though here everything feels much more expensive and slightly more desperate to impress.
The whole bit about him masquerading as a bullfighter is just an excuse for set pieces. There’s one scene where the camera just sort of hovers over a massive chorus line, and you can tell the director was sweating trying to keep all those moving parts in focus. It’s honestly impressive they didn't trip over each other.
Specific weirdness I noticed:
I’ve seen plenty of old musicals, like The Beautiful Lie, which felt much more grounded in an actual story. This? This is pure spectacle. It feels like the movie version of eating too much cotton candy.
There is a segment toward the middle that drags for what feels like an eternity. I checked my watch twice. The dialogue between the bank robbers is so stiff it’s almost funny, like they were reading their lines off the back of a cereal box.
But then, suddenly, there’s a big dance number that is genuinely well-choreographed. It’s a weird back-and-forth experience. One minute I’m bored, the next I’m wondering how they managed to coordinate fifty people in those outfits without a disaster.
Don’t go in expecting a masterpiece. Go in expecting a time capsule that’s a little dusty and louder than it needs to be. 💃

IMDb —
1922
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