As the curtain rises on Act IV, we pick up where we left off in Act III:
We’ve come at long last to the denouement (aka the point in the presentation where it’s time to wrap up the plot before the popcorn runs out): Fiorello and Tomasso abduct and gag lead tenor Alasprairie during the onstage uproar and take him to a site out of sight, where he’s fit to be tied. Gottliebchen is in a bind: a replacement tenor is needed to quiet the affronted audience, as well as those seated in the rear. Ricardo Macaroni happens to be handy. Gottliebchen gives in. Ricardo and the lovely Rosa Grossa sing an aria. The audience is enthralled. Miraculously, everything has worked out in….
THE END?
But as we all know, it’s not the end until the fat lady sings — a requisite which is unaccountably missing in this opera. Fortunately for our fannies, the fat lady who doesn’t sing in this operaย did sing to end this earlier opera, which will serve our purpose here:
Harpo’s playing always provided just the right balance of “catch-our-breath” between what would otherwise have been non-stop zaniness — not to mention that his playing was excellent in itself.
Tubularsock loved that as well and found it interesting how she showed such confidence theyโd miss. Wonder how many times they had to run through that without a mistake hit.
They did hit their initial target (Trentino) several times without noticeable effect before turning their attention to her, so I suspect that the “fruit” was made of something relatively soft (I was going to say foam rubber, but I checked and found that foam rubber wasn’t invented until 1937 — 3 years after DUCK SOUP was filmed). In any case, it does look like they missed her on purpose.
Absolutely! And A NIGHT AT THE OPERA lends itself perfectly to being satirized like a soap opera. I can’t think of another film which could as easily “inspire” the writing of these posts.
When last we met, leaving our three stowaways on the good ship Lollipoop, Tomasso had cut the beards off of three Russian aviators, and he, Fiorello and Ricardo had assumed their identities….or so you were left to assume. But you don’t have to take my word for it….
Having escaped from the speakers’ platform outside City Hall with plainclothes detective Henderson in pursuit, the stowaways and Driftwort take refuge in a nearby hotel, where they have a flat and retire. In the a.m., they have room service send up their breakfast.
Just when you thought the opening night of the opera season would never arrive, it does….and so does Driftwort, only to learn that he has been fired by Missis Playpool for associating with riffraff (how riffraff got into the act, I’ll never know). Not to be denied, Driftwort (together with Tomasso and Fiorello) goes to Gottliebchen’s office, locks him in a closet, replaces Gottliebchen as Missis Playpool’s escort, and delivers the opening night address, which is the same as the day address, but not as easy to see:
Is there no end to this madness? For the answer to that question, you will have to return for Act IV. Until then….
thanks for finally revealing why my father would Never let us watch the Marx Bros … but I enjoyed a good giggle. They are obviously cousins to Abbott and Costello ๐
You’re welcome, Kate. A & C’s heyday started when the Marx Brothers’ best years ended in the 1940s. A & C may have been the ‘successors’ to the Marxes, though in my opinion, their films didn’t reach the level of madcap originality and wit of the Marx Brothers. But all due credit to A & C for one of the classic routines of all time, WHO’S ON FIRST?
‘O for the lyrics and lyricists of yore.
They don’t make too many like them anymore
Since ol’ Yip and Porter and Brecht
Said adieu
The clever and worldly are far ‘tween and few.
You’re not a bad “lyricist” yourself — though setting your lyrics to music might stand no more than a “Ghost Of A Chance” (a 1933 hit composed by Victor Young, lyrics by Ned Washington)! ๐
I love the early Crosby’s voice. After about 1935, he gradually changed from being the emotional crooner of that 1933 clip to being, in my opinion, a less appealing and more commercially oriented (for lack of a better term) singer — still good, but not “terrific.” I own many recordings from both stages of his career, and the difference is obvious.
SCENE: A ship sailing from Wherever to New Yurt
TIME:ย ย ย A day or two after Whenever
CAST:ย ย The usual suspects (same characters as Act I)
As the curtain opens on Act II, we find Opus E. Driftwort, Missis Playpool, Hermano Gottliebchen, renowned tenor Rodolpho Alasprairie, and beautiful soprano Rosa Grossa, who has been selected as the leading lady, onboard the good ship Lollipoop (which was pirated from an earlier opera set in the deep South titled BRAT EYES, starring Surly Temper as the leading child). The ship is about to depart for New Yurt, where the famous New Yurt Opera House is believed to be located.
Sadly, tenor Ricardo Macaroni (Allan Jonesboro), who is in love with Rosa (and her with he), is being left behind on the dock, leading to this heart-breaking parting of the ways:
Shortly thereafter, Driftwort enters his cabin and proceeds with the tusk of opening his trunk, only to find it packed with hungry stowaways Fiorello and Tomasso Marxista and Macaroni.
Later, following much more merrymaking, music, and muddled madness, the stowaways are caught and confined to quarters for a change. Fiorello subsequently tires of listening to Tomasso’s kazoo and tosses it out the porthole. Tomasso leaps after it into the ocean, from which a lifeline lifts him into the stateroom of three bearded Russian aviators taking a nap. Tomasso then takes to his scissors, leaving three Russian aviators beardless and three stowaways becoming bearded Russian aviators Chicoski, Harpotski and Baronoff.
If you’ve never seen the movie A NIGHT AT THE OPERA (1935), I don’t blame you for finding this hard to follow. I’ve seen it probably half a dozen times over the years, and it hardly makes sense to me — but then, it’s the Marx Brothers, so it’s not supposed to make sense. Chaos reigns in all their films, especially in their two best films, A NIGHT AT THE OPERA and DUCK SOUP.
BTW, for the benefit of those who aren’t old time movie buffs, the reference (in the first paragraph) to BRAT EYES starring Surly Temper, is wordplay on the 1934 film BRIGHT EYES starring Shirley Temple. If any of my readers made that connection, I salute you (but don’t call me Shirley).
Missis Playpool , millionaire dowager and high-society wannabe, has been stood up for dinner at a fancy restaurant by Opus E. Driftwort, gold-digging entrepreneur. After being discovered dining with a gorgeous blond at the next table, Driftwort worms his way out of the situation and sits down with Missis Playpool for a second dinner, during which he professes his undying love for her. Repulsed, he then proposes a plan to get her into society by investing $200,000 (in round figures) in the New Yurt Opera Company.
Hermano Gotliebchen, impresario of the opera, happily accepts Missis Playpool’s money with intent to hire celebrated Italian tenor Rodolpho Alasprairie, who beats his valet, Tomasso Pasto, for trying on one of Rodolpho’s costumes before the opera which Missis Playpool attends, after which she and Gotliebchen agree to sign the tenor to a contract. Got that?
Enter Fiorello Blowhardo, who claims to represent the “greatest tenor in the world” (Ricardo Macaroni, a little-known singer in the chorus). Driftwort, thinking Blowhardo represents Alasprairie, tries to get Blowhardo to sign a contract in which Driftwort gets $990 of the $1,000-a-week contract for the “greatest tenor’s” services….but the contract has too many disagreeable clauses, which they agree to rip out until they’re down to the last clause, which happens to be the sanity clause. Of course, Blowhardo claims there ain’t no Sanity Claus, and that’s the end of Act One.
There will now be a short intermission, during which you are free to check out the commercials, or go to the fridge for a beer, before we resume with Act Two.
Chico (Fiorello) didn’t like the first part — especially the first part of the party of the first part — and I have a feeling I may not like the the second or third part, so I’m thinking about skipping to the fourth part. If I don’t like that, I’ll take the fifth amendment and go home. Wait — I’m already home. Well, that certainly was a long way to go to be back where I started.
You sure you can’t move? –what Harpo Marx “said” to the tied-up hero (Richard Dix) before punching him in the 1925 film TOO MANY KISSES (fortunately, the film survived)
Italicized above are the only words ever “spoken” (but not heard) on film by the man whose birthday we note today, HARPO MARX. The audience didn’t hear those five words because the film was a “silent” — “talkies” didn’t come on the scene until 1927, two years before the first of thirteen Marx Brothers movies (1929-49). Harpo spoke in none of them.
But why, oh why-o, should I try-o to “bio” Harpo, when here-o you can click on the official thing from his offspring:
Because Harpo associated with Dorothy Parker, Robert Benchley and other wits in the famed Algonquin Round Table repartee, I expected to turn up a number of witty Harpo Marx quotes for this piece. No such luck — I found only one I enjoyed enough to post here (both the “she” referred to in the quote, and who it is addressed to, are unknown):
“She’s a lovely person. She deserves a good husband. Marry her before she finds one.”
One quote being three quotes short of a gallon, I shall return to giving you “the silent treatment” with a quota of four quotes of silence said by forethoughtful others:
“Listen to the sound of silence.” –Paul Simon, American singer, songwriter, and actor
“Silence is golden unless you have kids, then it’s just plain suspicious.” –anonymous
“If nobody ever said anything unless he knew what he was talking about, what a ghastly hush would descend upon the earth!” –A. P. Herbert, English humorist, writer, and politician
“I believe in the discipline of silence and can talk for hours about it.” –George Bernard Shaw, Irish playwright and critic
Since I didn’t give Harpo the last word, I’ll let him giveย his audience the last laugh….and though he doesn’t speak, you’ll hear captivating sounds escape his lips 2:42 into this clip:
Bravo, Harpo!
EPILOGUE: Listen — 90+ years after the “silents” ended*, you can still hear….
*with the exception of two Charlie Chaplin masterpieces in the 1930s, CITY LIGHTS and MODERN TIMES
You’re welcome, Kate. I too love Harpo’s whistling in the Marx Brothers Musical clip, and I can’t imagine anyone not loving Simon & Garfunkel’s THE SOUND OF SILENCE (except Trump, who is incapable of appreciating the sound of silence if you paid him).
Harpo adopted several children because he and his wife couldn’t have any of their own. His aim was, in his words, when he got home he’d have a child looking at him “from every window”…
Likewise about the Marx Brothers. If they had made no other films than A NIGHT AT THE OPERA and DUCK SOUP, they would still be remembered forever (I hope).
My favorite, not to be contrary, is A Day at the Races. Why? The great jazz number in the middle of the movie as well as the Tootsie-Frootsie Ice Cream Scene…
Although Races isn’t my fav Marx Bros. movie, I’m always up for a jazz number, though this one has a very brief “bug-eyed” shot or two that might be regarded as racist today:
I assume you’re referring to vocalist Ivie Anderson, whose gig in this film was one of her rare appearances apart from the Duke Ellington Orchestra. Her performance here (as well as on the many recording she made with the Duke) was indeed wonderful.
โSilence is golden unless you have kids, then itโs just plain suspicious.โ So true! Lol. Fun quotes and clips and a beautiful song from Paul Simon. ๐
That is one of many great moments in the movie that I never tire of watching, such as the stateroom scene. The 1930s was truly the height of film making.
Speaking of distinctive actresses from Hollywood’s Golden Age, we turn from glamour girls (in my previous post) to a group of gals who made up in individuality what they lacked in allure. There were perhaps no actresses more unique and unforgettable in any category than the so-called character actors. Bring up such names as Margaret Hamilton, Marjorie Main, and Margaret Dumont (apart from their photos) to any classic film buff, and there’d be no problem matching which name belongs with which (or witch) face; same with their immediately recognizable voices. In a manner of speaking, they were vocal gold.
BTW, I have something in common with That Hamilton Woman. Like my wife, she was born in Cleveland, Ohio, and was once a teacher….but unlike my wife, she was unlike my wife (and vice versa….or is it verse vica).
Character actresses may not be leading ladies, but there’s one who was always the Main attraction :
My last post started with a birthday girl; this post ends with one….and what a one: Margaret Dumont (born Oct. 20, 1882), the gloriously inimitable foil of Groucho in nine of the Marx Brothers’ thirteen films, as typified by the following story.
In a play in which she played Mrs. Rittenhouse (and which was later made into an early Marx Brothers film), the brothers abandoned the script during one performance and began improvising scene after scene….from here, I quote from the book THE MARX BROTHERS AT THE MOVIES:
After some time she decided to take her chances and enter in the middle of it all. At that moment, Chico and Harpo simply walked off the stage, leaving the great dowager face-to-face with Groucho. So Groucho, with his characteristic speed of mind, gestured to a nearby divan. “Ah, Mrs. Rittenhouse,” he proclaimed. “Won’t you…er…lie down?” It had gotten a laugh on Broadway, so the brothers simply took it with them when they traveled to the Astoria studio [to make movies].
There’s a scene in my favorite Marx Brothers movie, DUCK SOUP, in which Dumont’s character addresses Groucho’s character, Rufus T. Firefly, President of Fredonia, as “Your Excellency!”…to which he replies, “You’re not so bad yourself.”
To which I can but add, You Bet Your Life!
Thank you, Kate. The title of the post is admittedly a bit of a stretch, but I couldn’t resist the play on words with HOLLYWOOD’S GOLDEN AGE: THE GLAMOUR GIRLS (the previous post).
I recognized โthe witch with the green faceโ (one of our daughters always referred to her that way) but the other two were unknowns to me… Well, until I read the post! ๐
Carmen, did you have to remind me how much older I am than you because Marjorie Main and Margaret Dumont were known to me, and unknown to you!!! Nonetheless, I forgive you, so here’s a short clip to give you a better idea of why I dig Dumont (note the “You’re not so bad yourself” remark at the end of the clip which relates to the end of my post):
Thanks, masercot. I didn’t realize, until I checked, that Kathleen Freeman played (uncredited) the part of diction coach Phoebe Dinsmore in one of my fav musicals, SINGIN’ IN THE RAIN. Here’s a clip:
Thanks, Elizabeth. I’m glad you made the connection between the last four words of my post and the name of Groucho’s TV show. I watched it often back in the day.
Marjorie appeared in over 80 films, including some of my favorites, such as MEET ME IN ST. LOUIS, THE HARVEY GIRLS, and FRIENDLY PERSUASION. Truly a wonderful character actress.
mlrover 8:58 am on February 16, 2020 Permalink |
I love that they aimed the fruit over her head. My favorite was always when Harpo played.
LikeLiked by 2 people
mistermuse 10:56 am on February 16, 2020 Permalink |
Harpo’s playing always provided just the right balance of “catch-our-breath” between what would otherwise have been non-stop zaniness — not to mention that his playing was excellent in itself.
LikeLiked by 1 person
tubularsock 1:50 pm on February 16, 2020 Permalink |
Tubularsock loved that as well and found it interesting how she showed such confidence theyโd miss. Wonder how many times they had to run through that without a mistake hit.
LikeLiked by 2 people
mistermuse 9:23 pm on February 16, 2020 Permalink
They did hit their initial target (Trentino) several times without noticeable effect before turning their attention to her, so I suspect that the “fruit” was made of something relatively soft (I was going to say foam rubber, but I checked and found that foam rubber wasn’t invented until 1937 — 3 years after DUCK SOUP was filmed). In any case, it does look like they missed her on purpose.
LikeLiked by 1 person
magickmermaid 6:17 pm on February 16, 2020 Permalink |
The Marx Brothers were unequaled! Still just as funny today. ๐
LikeLiked by 1 person
mistermuse 9:43 pm on February 16, 2020 Permalink |
Absolutely! And A NIGHT AT THE OPERA lends itself perfectly to being satirized like a soap opera. I can’t think of another film which could as easily “inspire” the writing of these posts.
LikeLiked by 1 person
masercot 8:22 am on February 17, 2020 Permalink |
Just leave out the sanity clause next time…
LikeLiked by 1 person
mistermuse 5:02 pm on February 17, 2020 Permalink |
I think Trump has already removed all sanity clauses.
LikeLiked by 2 people
JosieHolford 8:45 pm on February 18, 2020 Permalink |
Not for nothing they were known as comic genius.
LikeLiked by 1 person
barkinginthedark 10:26 pm on February 19, 2020 Permalink |
love the Marx bros…the first Beatles. continue…
LikeLiked by 1 person
mistermuse 12:58 am on February 20, 2020 Permalink |
I guess you could make that comparison, though I’ve never thought of the Beatles’ films in that way before.
LikeLike