The Electric Kiss is a film that tries to straddle two worlds with a clumsy, almost self-aware awkwardness. It’s a Belle Époque comedy about a fraudulent séance, a grieving artist, and a circus performer who accidentally becomes a medium. But what makes this film so fascinating is its refusal to take itself seriously, even as it pretends to be something more profound. It’s like a 19th-century version of a TikTok trend: a gimmick that’s too obvious to be funny, yet too earnest to be credible. Personally, I think the film’s greatest failing is its inability to reconcile the absurdity of its premise with the gravity of its characters’ emotions. The fake séance is a joke, but the artist’s grief is real, and that dissonance feels like a missed opportunity. What many people don’t realize is that the film’s true genius lies in its own incompetence. It’s a reminder that sometimes, the most memorable moments in art are the ones that fail to deliver.
The film’s structure is a curious mix of past and present. The flashbacks to Irène’s life are meant to humanize her, but they feel more like exposition than storytelling. They’re like a therapist’s notes: informative, but not particularly engaging. What this really suggests is that the film’s creators are more interested in revealing secrets than in creating a compelling narrative. The circus performer, Suzanne, is a character who embodies the film’s contradictions. She’s a spectacle, a performer of sensations, yet her role in the story feels more like a plot device than a character in her own right. From my perspective, this is a case of the whole being less than the sum of its parts. The film tries to be both a comedy and a tragedy, but it ends up being neither.
The film’s dialogue is another area where it falters. The lines are witty, but they often feel forced, as if the writers are trying too hard to be clever. There’s a moment where Suzanne says, ‘It is not an idea or a metaphor; it is pure sensation!’ – a line that’s supposed to be poetic, but it’s just a cheap attempt at profundity. What this really implies is that the film’s creators are more concerned with style than substance. They’re trying to be auteurist, but their work feels more like a parody of auteurism. This is a problem because the film’s greatest strength is its lack of pretension, but that same lack of pretension also makes it feel shallow.
The film’s setting is another interesting aspect. The Belle Époque is a time of artistic and cultural flourishing, but the film treats it like a relic, a period piece that’s too old to be relevant. This is a missed opportunity because the film could have used the era’s aesthetic to enhance its themes rather than distract from them. The use of the circus as a metaphor for performance and illusion is a good start, but it’s not developed enough to make the film feel cohesive. The film’s failure to connect with the audience is a reminder that even the most visually striking films can fall flat if they don’t have a clear emotional core.
What I find especially interesting is the way the film handles the theme of artistic inspiration. The agent, Armand, is a manipulator who believes that the séance will spark the artist’s creativity. But the film doesn’t really explore the idea of inspiration beyond the obvious. It’s a cliché, but one that’s been overused in films about artists. What this suggests is that the film’s creators are more interested in the mechanics of the story than in the deeper questions of creativity and genius. This is a flaw, but it also highlights the film’s lack of ambition.
In the end, The Electric Kiss is a film that’s too self-aware to be funny and too earnest to be moving. It’s a case study in the dangers of trying to be everything at once. The film’s greatest success is its honesty about its own limitations. It doesn’t try to be a masterpiece, and that’s probably why it fails to be one. What this really means is that sometimes, the best films are the ones that don’t try too hard. They accept their flaws and let the audience decide whether they matter.
