The Annotated Marx Brothers : a filmgoer's guide to in-jokes, obscure references and sly details

478 Pages·2015·5.74 MB·English

by  Coniam

The Annotated Marx Brothers
A Filmgoer’s Guide to In-Jokes, Obscure References and Sly Details
Matthew Coniam
McFarland & Company, Inc., Publishers
Jefferson, North Carolina
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGUING DATA ARE AVAILABLE
BRITISH LIBRARY CATALOGUING DATA ARE AVAILABLE
e-ISBN: 978-1-4766-1876-0
© 2015 Matthew Coniam. All rights reserved No part of this book may be
reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or
mechanical, including photocopying or recording, or by any information storage
and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
On the cover: 1930 publicity photo for Animal Crackers.
Left to right: Chico, Groucho, Harpo, Zeppo.
McFarland & Company, Inc., Publishers
Box 611, Jefferson, North Carolina 28640
www.mcfarlandpub.com
For Edward
Table of Contents
Acknowledgments
Introduction
A Word About Time Codes
1. The Cocoanuts (1929)
2. Animal Crackers (1930)
3. Monkey Business (1931)
4. Horse Feathers (1932)
5. Duck Soup (1933)
6. A Night at the Opera (1935)
7. A Day at the Races (1937)
8. Room Service (1938)
9. At the Circus (1939)
10. Go West (1940)
11. The Big Store (1941)
12. A Night in Casablanca (1946)
13. Love Happy (1949)
14. The Incredible Jewel Robbery (1959)
Epilogue
Appendices
I: Lydia the Tattooed Lady, Uncovered
II: Lydia the Tattooed Lady, Exhumed
Notes and Sources
Bibliography
List of Names and Terms
Acknowledgments
I wrote my first book on the Marx Brothers around Christmas 1983. I was ten
years old and had been aware of the Brothers for a few days. At sixteen pages it
was a little light on information, and somewhat sketchy in its factual authority (I
thought Zeppo was the one who played the piano). Looking at it now, it is all too
obvious that its author had not yet read Bergson’s Laughter (Essai sur la
signification du comique). But what it lacked in research it more than made up
for in vague felt-tipped pen illustrations.
Now, at long last, here is the second edition.
And because I have read Bergson by now, I can’t help but recall his assertion
that “cranks of the same kind are drawn, by a secret attraction, to seek each
other’s company” as I take this opportunity to express my gratitude to the many
cranks without whom this book would have been the merest shadow of its
present self:
First and especially to Glenn Mitchell, author of the invaluable-is-putting-it-too-
mildly Marx Brothers Encyclopedia, for the generosity with which he has
volunteered time, insight and rare Thelma Todd movies; to Anthony Blampied,
who as well as being my man on the inside at the Cinémathèque Royale de
Belgique has long offered professional encouragement and personal friendship
in unique and irreplaceable union; to Grouch McGummo (a.k.a. Simon Louvish),
Scott Saternye and Trudy Marshall, who read early drafts and made helpful
suggestions; to Chuck Harter, who pulled superb research finds out of his hat in
Los Angeles; to Randy Skretvedt, who couldn’t be a nicer guy (scientific fact);
to Steven R. Wright, who kindly allowed me to make use of his work on the two
versions of Love Happy; to David A. Cory, who generously donated his essay on
“Lydia” for use as an appendix; to my editor, Dylan Lightfoot, who sounds like
he should be a 1930s private eye, and to Richard Larcombe, who has been all
four of the Three Musketeers for two and a half decades.
Further invaluable assistance or information was provided by Joe Adamson,
Richard J. Anobile, Patrick Barr, George Bettinger, Noah Diamond, Allen Eyles,
Meg Farrell, Steve Garland, Steven Kurtz, Annette D’Agostino Lloyd, Ian
McLagan, Jim Marx, Damian O’Hara, Robert Moulton, Thomas Rácz, Ben
McLagan, Jim Marx, Damian O’Hara, Robert Moulton, Thomas Rácz, Ben
Robinson, Jenny Romero (Margaret Herrick Library), Michael J.C. Taylor,
Mikael Uhlin, Raymond White and Tighe Zimmers.
The readers of my blog “The Marx Brothers Council of Britain” and the
members of its spin-off Facebook group have been unendingly helpful in
providing plausible solutions to the many conundrums I have placed before
them; my gratitude to them all, and especially to Bill Andres, Annie Bones, Jay
Brennan, Marjie Cardwell, Eugene Conniff, Geno Cuddy, Kevin Jon Davies,
Glenn F, Billy Frolick, Bill Groves, Jason Hyde, Ginger Ingénue, Lotten
Kalenius, Debra MacLaughlan-Dumes, Jessica Martin, Josh Max, Steve Miller,
Alice Mulconry, Mary O’Benar, Scott T. Rivers, Tom Rogers, Stefan Timphus
and Bluejay Young.
And thanks above all to my behind the scenes research team and sounding board
for their inexhaustible energy, enthusiasm, efficiency and good company. They
are: Ed Watz, pre-eminent expert on all things comedic, whose faith in this
project, and the help and encouragement he has given at every stage, go way
beyond generosity and into the sort of eccentricity that gets people asked to
leave early at parties; Rodney Stewart Hillel Tryster, a man who gives
polymathy a good name (well, a better one than Rodney, anyway), and a master
of archival research who saved the day time and again with his supernatural
ability to find exactly the right 80-year-old one-inch newspaper clipping at
exactly the most helpful moment; Andrew Smith, author of the definitive
Flywheel guide Marx and Re-Marx, and an invaluably free-thinking influence on
the Love Happy chapter in particular; W. Gary Wetstein, a constant force of both
encouragement and restraint, and a shrewd judge of relevance and tone (whose
advice I should have ignored far less frequently), and Bob Gassel, whose occult
gift for suggesting new avenues of interpretation, couched in some deceptively
casual asides, has enriched the book in countless ways, and led directly to the
complete rewriting of at least three chapters.
Finally I would like to thank my parents for letting me stay up and watch these
films when I was ten years old, my sister Helen for putting up with the
consequences, my wonderful wife, Angela, for accompanying me to all of them
at the National Film Theatre when we’d only been going out a couple of months
and still letting me marry her afterwards, and our baby son, Edward, for
graciously consenting to sleep occasionally so I could get the book written.
Introduction
Between 1885 and 1901, Minnie Marx and her husband Samuel produced six
sons. The first, Manfred, tragically died at the age of just seven months. But the
other five, who had sensible names too, but remain better known as Chico,
Harpo, Groucho, Gummo and Zeppo, grew up to become the Marx Brothers.
Spurred on by the aspirations of their stage-struck mother, they grew from a boy
act to one of the top comedy turns of vaudeville. Gummo, who was never
comfortable under the lights, used the First World War as the excuse he needed
to duck out. With Zeppo in his place they went on to conquer Broadway.
And after that, they made a bunch of films that still provoke helpless laughter to
this day.
And what happened after that is that a whole bunch of writers wrote a whole
bunch of very good books about those films. So doubtless you are wondering
why I’m expecting you to care about the fact that I’ve come along and written
another one.
Well, rest assured that this is not an attempt to tell you what you already know,
nor to supplant the work of those esteemed Marxian scribes who have gone
before me. This is not a history, nor a biography, nor a series of reviews, but a
viewer’s guide to the films themselves.
What does that mean? Well, it means that each chapter focuses on a different
movie and, after a general introduction, takes the form of a running commentary,
discussing points raised by the film as and when they appear, filling in
background detail, pointing out things you might just have missed, and
explaining a few of the more obscure jokes and references. Every section
referred to is precisely located in the running time, with the time code given for
both PAL and NTSC DVD, so you can quickly look it up to refresh your
memory. Or, you can keep the book by your side as you watch the movies in
full, to be referred to whenever the mood strikes. Sometimes what I have to offer
will be a mere nugget, other times a lengthy digression, but always, I hope,
something that adds to your enjoyment. Think of it as a travelling companion as
you ramble through the landscape of these remarkable comedies, both a
you ramble through the landscape of these remarkable comedies, both a
newcomer’s guide and an addict’s resource, a source of contention and of
illumination, a mire of speculation and an oasis of confirmation, and all of these
things at one and the same time.
Now, you may have heard an internal alarm bell ringing when you read that bit
about “explaining jokes.” Too much analysis, you may feel, is the death of
comedy. Take a joke apart to see how it works, you may want to add
parenthetically, and you’ll never get it back together again. And you’d have a
point. Don’t worry: I’ve never been a great one for reading stuff into the Marx
Brothers’ films that isn’t really there. It seems to me there’s more than enough
that is really there, and it’s usually a good deal funnier too.
But answer me this: have you ever been watching a Marx Brothers movie and
wondered what “habeas Irish rose” is? What is the trial of Mary Dugan with
sound? What is a college widow? Who are those five kids up in Canada? Exactly
when did Don Ameche invent the telephone?
The films of the Marx Brothers are full of these in-jokes and obscure theatrical,
literary and topical references that can baffle modern audiences. This book will,
in part, strive to explain such mysteries, as well as offer all the other obscure or
interesting trivia and background information relevant to each film that it is in
my power to provide. If it is aimed a little more (but I hope by no means
exclusively) at the confirmed enthusiast than the novice, that’s simply because I
can’t really be bothered to repeat all those well-known anecdotes you find in
every other book on the Marx Brothers. But if you want to know the real secret
of Abie the Fish Man, which film exists in two versions with two completely
different songs, or exactly how many Frenchmen can’t be wrong, you’ve come
to the right place.
The book is not solely an assembly of facts, however. And given that personal
assessment must inevitably intrude, I doubtless owe you an honest account of
my prejudices before proceeding further.
Well, I was introduced to the Marx Brothers at the age of ten, over the Christmas
of 1983. In those days Britain only had four television channels, and that year,
BBC-2 was offering a season of five Marx Brothers films. I know many people
who forged an obsession with the team from the most unlikely first encounters,
including Room Service and Go West. Even so, I thank my stars for having been
offered so perfect an introduction: all the Paramount titles bar Cocoanuts (I had