The Marx Brothers Ensure Chaos Reigns Supreme in the Peerless Duck Soup

 

                A frenetic, hilarious blend of mayhem featuring the four Marx Brothers at their most free-wheeling and irreverent, while also taking satirical pot shots at politics and war that remain timely over ninety years later, 1933’s Duck Soup from Paramount represents one of filmdom’s prime comedies, wherein the seemingly loose, go-for-broke style on constant display somehow manages to stay cohesive among the breeziest 69 minutes found in cinema. Director Leo McCarey deftly unfolds the ingenious script by Bery Kalmar and Harry Ruby (with additional dialogue from Nat Perrin and Arthur Sheekman) that cleverly adds amusing musical passages into the narrative concerning the land of Freedonia, overseen by the mischievous Rufus T. Firefly, who apparently has no qualms starting war at the drop of a hat. McCarey adeptly keeps the plot moving at an astoundingly fast pace, while allowing the brothers ample freedom to spontaneously put over their special brand of shenanigans in a manner unmatched elsewhere in their filmographies, aided by the supremely regal and game “Fifth Marx Brother,” Margaret Dumont.

                For McCarey, Duck Soup signaled an uptick in his burgeoning career as one of Hollywood’s most inventive directors, particularly in comedies. Starting out in the 1920’s as a writer/director of shorts, including working with and helping develop Laurel and Hardy, McCarey would smoothly transition into sound films, scoring a major hit just prior to Soup via the Eddie Cantor star vehicle The Kid from Spain. With the Marx Brothers, McCarey allows for a loose, apparently impromptu style that lets the team shine in one set piece after another, including Groucho and Harpo’s famous mirror image gag and Chico and Harpo’s run-ins with a progressively more exasperated vendor. The mirror scene is clearly carefully staged, but with the vendor and in other sequences, it’s hard to tell how much is worked out, and to what extent the boys just went impishly wild with comic inspiration. McCarey helms with admirable dexterity, keeping the madcap tone flowing throughout the movie with verve and consistency. McCarey would continue his swift rise with 1935’s The Ruggles of Red Gap, then hit a peak in 1937 with Oscar-winning work for The Awful Truth, a screwball classic and presenting the polar opposite via the dramatically profound Make Way for Tomorrow, before ending the decade with a well-regarded romantic comedy/drama, Love Affair. McCarey scored mightily in the 1940’s with two huge hits starring Bing Crosby, 1944’s Going My Way, with McCarey walking away with three Oscars for his efforts, and the follow-up, The Bells of St. Mary’s, with an unbeatable Crosby/Ingrid Bergman combo, before parring back on his output, but once again reaching large audiences with his beloved 1957 remake of Love Affair, An Affair to Remember.

                With a strong assist from their driven mother, Minnie, the Marx Brothers (initially including a fifth brother, Gummo) first made a name for themselves on the vaudeville stage during the 1910’s, before moving on to Broadway success in the 1920’s. At the end of the decade, a deal with Paramount Pictures saw them adapting their hits The Cocoanuts and Animal Crackers to film with outstanding box-office the result, causing the team to make a shift to Hollywood. After two more hits, Monkey Business and Horse Feathers, the brothers found themselves on the cover of Time magazine as one of the biggest names in movies. Duck Soup should have represented the crowning glory it eventual became in their filmography, capturing the brothers at a peak after they had developed their perfectly-attuned performance skills before the camera, but the ingenuity unfolding onscreen in rapid-fire fashion would take years for the public to catch up to, although they did so adoringly when realizing the trove of comic treasures they’d missed out on by neglecting the tasty Soup upon the classic’s release.

                Groucho brings his unmatched comic sensibility to Soup, nimbly cavorting around the screen with disobedient sangfroid, while tossing out incredible quips so deftly one may find it necessary to re-watch Soup immediately after a screening to take in all the double entendres that were initially missed. Groucho adroitly offers a mixture of patent shtick (the rolling eyes and waggish eyebrows, his unmatched strut, breaking the fourth wall, etc.) with a seemingly effortless sense of capriciousness, which allows his free-wheeling performance to sustain an air of freshness and originality over 90 years after Soup’s release. Following the brothers reign at Paramount, then MGM, Groucho would find a huge new audience while dropping plenty of witticisms as the host of You Bet Your Life, starting on radio in 1947 before becoming one of early television’s biggest hits during its 1950-1961 run. Afterwards, Groucho would continue to bemuse the public with frequent appearances on t.v. talk and game shows, before passing in 1977 at 86.

                For Harpo, Soup also shows him at his zenith. With little pretense or chance for a musical instrumental solo to tame him, he goes about his business in a looser, more unrestricted manner than usual, leering away with gusto as he causes mass disorder regardless of the setting, leading to the peerless mirror scene wherein he stays in synch with Groucho with model precision to gain the utmost guffaws from immersed viewers. As his vocal co-conspirator who is working to unseat Firefly (at first) Chico is possibly seen to his best advantage during a cross-examination scene, wherein his pseudo-serious, perfectly-time play on words results in several of the movie’s best zingers. As the film’s faithful straight man, the handsome Zeppo is good-natured and professional, without his role as Firefly’s calm, reasonable secretary granting him many chances to shine in the uninhibited manner of his brothers.

As the affluent Mrs. Gloria Teasdale, the benefactress who only has eyes for Rufus, Margaret Dumont brings her invaluable gifts as one of the screen’s foremost straight ladies to her pairing with Groucho. With her regal bearing and dulcet tones (armed with an operatic background), Dumont serves as an ideal contrast to her leading man’s antics and suggestive, quick-witted one liners. First appearing opposite the Marx’s on Broadway in Cocoanuts and Crackers, Dumont rose to cinematic fame alongside the brothers when both stage successes were transferred to film. Groucho and Dumont’s fondness for each other is apparent, making them one of the most believable, if seemingly mismatched, couples in classic films, with Dumont’s dignity and class constantly at the mercy of Groucho’s leery advances and asides. Groucho often stated Dumont didn’t get the jokes thrown her way, but watching her with him, one can see the skill Dumont brought in maintaining a serious demeanor, but one not prone to bemusement when faced with Groucho’s latest untoward gesture- Dumont was clearly a grand talent who knew exactly how to interact with her free-spirted counterpoint. Appearing in a total of seven of the Marx’s pictures, Dumont would also occasionally stand out in other films, including Never Give a Sucker an Even Break opposite W.C. Fields, Up in Arms (Danny Kaye’s film debut), Bathing Beauty and her final role in 1964’s all-star What a Way to Go!, just before her passing in 1965 at 82.

With his imposing stature and deep, resonant voice, Louis Calhern makes an appropriately commanding impression as the assertive Ambassador of Sylvanna, who is at odds with Rufus over the affections of Mrs. Teasdale and anything else Firefly can think up to unnerve his foe. Calhern does a fine job outlining Trentino’s ever-increasing state of exasperation with each new conflict with Rufus, helping to make this running gag a source of constant amusement. As Vera, the siren whose plunging Pre-Code neckline raises the eyebrows of her costars and audience members, Raquel Torres brings the proper vixenish allure and energy to the part, to the extent a viewer wishes she could’ve ben put to more direct use with Groucho or his kin. Finally, as the vendor harassed by both Chico and (especially) Harpo, longtime character actor Edgar Kennedy, who started his film career at the dawn of cinema, works adeptly with his adversaries as they put over intricate physical comedy bits with relish.

                Duck Soup surprisingly failed to catch on with the public upon its November 1933 Depression era release, after the Marx Brothers had scored impressive box-office returns with their first four films, with the artful siblings, sans the underutilized Zeppo, witnessing a comeback and what at the time was regarded as a return to form after switching from Paramount to MGM for 1935’s merry A Night at the Opera, highlighted by its famous stateroom sequence. However, concerning Soup, continued interest in the team’s work, including frequent showings in revival houses and on television, caused a strong reevaluation of the film; today critical reassessment places this farcical masterpiece at the top of the Marx’s filmography (or near it, when factoring in a nod to Opera devotees or those holding a slight preference for one of the other earlier classics). Recent accolades include placement on the AFI’s 1998 and 2007 lists of the top 100 American films (at #85 and #60, respectively), coming in at a lofty #5 on the AFI 2000 “100 Laughs” list detailing the greatest American comedy films, seven spots above Opera’s also stellar showing and being included in the esteemed National Film Registry’s 1990 list of films for preservation. Anyone interested in swiftly gaining a maximum laugh quotient in limited time will benefit from watching one of cinema’s prime comedy teams put on possibly their greatest show of priceless anarchy via the uproarious Duck Soup.