<Caption needed here>
The Death Kiss (1932) is a mostly ineffectual comedy that doubles as an average murder mystery. Leading man Miles Brent, on set and in action, is approached and kissed by a strange woman, the leading lady, who then wanders off. Brent, shaking off the kiss, begins to proceed about his business, only to be gunned down.
The production? “The Death Kiss.” But when it’s time for take two, Brent fails to jump to his feet: he’s really dead, a bullet through his heart. We’re off on a clumsy, gallumphing run, as the studio police, the city police, and scriptwriter Franklyn Drew, who writes detective novels on the side, fall in to the chase. But when the path leads to the leading lady and former wife of the murdered actor, Marcia Lane, Drew, who’s sweet on her, becomes disenchanted with the shortcomings of the police and begins a deeper investigation.
The humor, while perhaps accurate in its send-up of the inner workings of movie production, fails to translate to the screen in a useful way. But the murder mystery is mildly clever, including an intriguing method to the initial murder, a second murder which is set up to look like a suicide, and Drew, who tramples all over the evidence from here to Timbuktu.
In the end, it’s nothing compelling, but it is pleasant – if murder strikes you as a pleasant way to spend an evening. Or, if you’re a Bela Lugosi completist, you should also see this. He keeps his accent nearly imperceptible, and shows he had normal acting chops as well as his more traditional horror skills.
The mystery actually makes sense, as gradually more and more information is revealed, and in the end the bad guy gets his. Yay!
