Among the residents is his daughter Mary, who is in love with Hans van Maren; a twitchy young man her father despises.

At first the baron is furious, but when Moeki pretends to him that Willy has been abandoned by his wife, his anger quickly turns to joy.

[2] Stage actress Mary Dresselhuys was asked to audition for the lead role, but the test recordings were disastrous; Kosterlitz did not find her was photogenic enough and told her: 'Leider gnädige Frau, sind Sie nicht zu fotografieren' ('Unfortunately, dear madam, you are impossible to photograph').

[4] The role eventually went to Dolly Mollinger, an unknown and inexperienced secretary who was discovered by accident when cameraman Henk Alsem - in the absence of director Haro van Peski, for whom she was working at the time - filmed test shots for her.

[13] Mayor Salomon Jean René de Monchy of The Hague and multiple prominent members of the Netherlands Red Cross board attended the premiere, and afterward Mary Dresselhuys, Dolly Mollinger, Philip Dorn, Chris Baay and August Kiehl appeared on stage.

That day marked Kiehl's sixtieth anniversary as a stage actor, for which he received a speech by Van Dorn.

[16] In the Amsterdam 'Cinema Royal' popular Dutch cabaret artist Louis Davids opened the screenings on multiple occasions.

[17] In April 1936 'Vereniging Neerlandia', a London-based social and cultural club aimed at Dutch expats, held a special screening of De Kribbebijter.

[19] In November 2021, the film was screened live for the first time in years by Leiden-based study association Nieuw Nederlands Peil.

In 2007, De Kribbebijter was released by TDM Entertainment on a one-disc standard DVD in the Netherlands as part of the "Dutch Classics" series of the Nederlands Filmmuseum.

While British audiences were equally enthousiastic (the Manchester Guardian reported a great many "bursts of laughter"[20]), reactions of the international critics were mixed.

While noting there were some funny scenes, Greene took especial umbrage with the direction, which he described as "that grim slow kind which never shows you a car without following it to the horizon or lets a character leave one room for another without a prolonged study of opening and closing, and then reopening and re-closing doors, with a glimpse of the passage perhaps as well, lest the imagination should bear too heavy a burden".