6.2/10
Senior Film Conservator

A definitive 6.2/10 rating for a film that redefined the boundaries of cult cinema. Wer zuletzt küßt... remains a cornerstone of transgressive art.
Honestly, only if you have a soft spot for 1930s German cinema or you’re currently obsessed with the specific screen presence of Hans Moser. If you need tight pacing or modern jokes that actually land, skip this one. But if you want to see a movie that feels like a play someone filmed on a Tuesday afternoon, you might have fun.
The whole premise is classic farce stuff. A movie star wants to auction a kiss, and everyone acts like the world is ending. The record company owner, Wiesinger, is essentially a walking disaster, and watching him try to steal from his own safe is... well, it's something. It’s funny in that way where you can tell the actors are having a blast, even if the script is thinner than a piece of deli ham.
Then there is Franz, the philologist. He just wants to exist, really. But because life in these movies is just one long string of misunderstandings, he ends up being the guy who actually gets the kiss. The way he reacts—or doesn't react—is the only thing keeping the middle section from dragging. I kept wondering if he actually wanted to be there or if he just forgot how to exit the room.
It’s not as sharp as Spite Marriage, which somehow manages to keep its chaos focused. Here, the chaos is just... everywhere. It’s like watching a kid try to juggle oranges for the first time. Sometimes they catch one, usually they drop them all, but you’re still watching.
I found myself zoning out during the scenes with the record company office. It felt less like a place of business and more like a set built in a basement. It has that specific, slightly dusty feeling that only movies from this era seem to possess.
Is it perfect? Absolutely not. It’s messy, dated, and occasionally exhausting. But there’s a sweet, weird energy to the whole thing that kept me from turning it off. Sometimes that’s enough. 🎬

IMDb —
1919
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