An Analysis of The Marx Brothers

The Marx Brothers are uproariously funny, and at the same time provocateurs of the philosophy of wisdom-in-anarchy. Their purpose is to expose the illusions of reality, the hypocrisy of the world as we see it, while making us laugh in the process. They are philosophers in the guise of clowns, and their hypotheses and postulations are conveyed to us in the form of verbal wisecracks and visual “gookies” (a word used by Alan Eyles to describe those events which occur in the films that wordlessly exit through the illusion of the event we are experiencing, either through acknowledgment of the cinematic machinery {camera, projector, etc.} or assaulting the hypocrisy of events in the film, or both). It is the opinion of this paper that the Marx Brothers operate in a set, trinity-machinery, as described below:

That diagram shows how the Marx Brothers’ machinery works. Chico is the means by which we are introduced to the eccentricity of the other two extremes; for he is the only one of the three that could be us in that situation; Groucho is too witty and Harpo too cosmic, too transcendent of the laws of nature. As “us”, Chico is the slow, harmless stutterer: “How-a am-a I suppose-a ta know?” is a typical remark out of Chico’s mouth. Like us, Chico is just another confused, hapless spectator on the antics of the two. He is the interpreter of the other two, by set- up with Groucho (his straight man) and side-kick of Harpo. Through the wisecracks mouthed by Groucho and the gookies of Harpo the Marx Brothers’ themes are derived, as stated before; the illusions of reality and hypocrisy of people. However, these themes don’t arrive merely once or twice, but with every punchline, verbal or visual; and these punchlines arrive with an intense, rhythmic pace, indeed in the same manner as music is played. I shall get back to the importance of music again; now I’d like to describe the Marx Brother Machinery’s “Effect”. The Marx “Effect”—An Anarchistic Approach The Marx Brothers brought an elevated combination of slapstick, vaudeville, anarchy and surrealism to the genre of the film comedy. They are a cathartic envoy from the depths of our consciousness; they are a wrecker’s ball, manifested in three bizarre countenances; they purport to none but the most bourgeois tastes, and yet are recognized as “. . .the most fascinating, most subtle, and most rewarding of all. . .the various comic personalities.”1 The Marxes stand for freedom, even to the extent of stealing, lying and debasing men and women. They stand for love, especially orgiastic. They stand for music, even to the extent of putting the scores to “Take Me Out To The Ballgame” on the music stands of an orchestra, and while the robotic musicians churn out the lowly music, swinging in time on the curtain ropes. They stand for free-enterprise, especially when it doesn’t require any work. They stand for youth, and steadfastly refuse to grow up. In other words, they take the “American Dream” (life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness) and turn it into an “American Nightmare”; and the image of our society being so blithely torn apart by these three horse-men of the metropolis in so unreal that we can only roar with disbelief. This is much more than mere comedy; this is an intelligent philosophy in application, anarchy in everyday life. Groucho says it all in Horsefeathers: “I don’t know what they have to say/It makes no difference anyway/Whatever it is, I’m against it.” The Marx Brothers were brought up in a show-business family, their father a ventriloquist/magician, their mother a harpist. Their uncle, Al Shean, was, according to Alan Eyles, “. . .the entertainer of her (Minnie, their mother) generation and the big celebrity of the Marx clan. They were given a show business education, with emphasis on music; Groucho and Gummo and Harpo sang, Chico played piano, Groucho played guitar and Gummo and Harpo played mandolin. Their musical background shows in their films, in which highly advanced counterpoint and rhythm can be detected in their language, movement and plots; not to mention the frequent breakouts of song and dance. All the Marx Brothers use music, to: control crowds (the inauguration of Groucho as President of Huxley, in which the students and even the college professors are reduced to a mere chorus); seduce women (Groucho, again, in a canoe, strumming a guitar and seducing Thelma Todd in Horsefeathers); and get food (Chico plays piano for the voyageurs in Night At The Opera). Music permeates the Marx Brothers’ comedy, and elevates it; they are seen, not as mere clowns, but capable and well-rounded entertainers. But always their music is pedestrian, living-room level pop, usually with a ‘pagan’ beat that all can bop to; they are not true musicians, but comedians posed with, and abusing, their instruments; to wit, Chico’s one-finger piano playing technique, Groucho’s harsh strumming, and using his guitar to row his canoe. Harpo is the exception, but he is the exceptional one in any light, being a manifestation of Pan, the character of Greek mythology. No one is more rooted in the mystical, magical and musical than Harpo, and in deference to his musical “throwback” Harpo undergoes a visible transformation when in the presence of a harp. He adopts a sincere serenity, plucking at the strings with true virtuosity, and falling against his instrument with an expression of fulfillment at the conclusion of his piece. Underneath their exteriors of brash anarchy, we see the Marxes as musicians, students of rhythm, harmony and melody, none more than Harpo, the mute; being this, they are pursuant of the laws of the universe, and thus adhere to a “higher” law than ours. Music is their base, and thus oversees their whole; they are to be seen, not as mere comedians, but as conductors of a great human chorus, of which we, the film audience, are an integral part, and indeed contribute vocally, if not in actual song, then in irrepressible laughter. All the three main Marx Brothers are unreal in image; Groucho wears a greasepaint moustache, Chico a fake Italian accent, Harpo a curly-mop wig and feigned muteness. Each of them has a role that remains constant throughout their history of film appearances; Groucho as the eternal loser, Chico as Harpo’s interpreter, Harpo as the epitome of mute, uncaring anarchy. (Zeppo and his counterparts, Alan Jones et. al, appear to complete the four-part harmony) (as romantic saps). Groucho appears as a scuttling beetle, frockcoat flying in the breeze he generates as he rushes on a massive speed trip; smoke chuffs behind him, his eyebrows wiggle lasciviously as he ogles the world about his with only one thought; plunder! He is the fascinating combination of a mind that moves at the speed of light with a body that cries eternally for immediate gratification, especially sexually. He is his own worst enemy, for his overwhelming self-concern prevents him from obtaining a secure, stable position of responsibility. He’s too infantile; he doesn’t strike out to make good of himself, but instead throws tantrums bemoaning his need to work for a living. Ever-present as his foil is the amazing Margaret Dumont, the gigantic singer- turned-honorary-Marx sister, whom Groucho describes as the “Prince of Whales”. Dumont, representing prudish, looming society, is eternally the butt of Groucho’s humor and amourous* advances, and yet, even as Groucho levels her to an unwitting fool with his barrage of brilliant barbs, she retains, internally, her dignity, grace and beauty. Her permanence is a reassurance that, however much the Marxes tear down our world, yet there is a bastion of hope as long as Margaret stands. RE: Groucho “Groucho” is a recurring statement throughout the Marx Brothers’ films, but, unfortunately, it is seen to decay in the later films. There is talk of “Groucho” and “the old Groucho”, the latter being the one, true article. “The old Groucho” is invincible in wit, yet impotent in sex and love, being completely self-serving (the one vice held in common by all Marx Brothers). In the films after A Night At The Opera, Groucho is seen to undergo a steady deference to conventionality, even going so far as to get a job (as a private detective, in Love Happy). At the same time, what appeared previously as inspired and brilliant wit descends, first to camp, then to corn, sometimes even worse. A joke that was typical Marxian humor, in Horsefeathers: “I’d horsewhip you if I had a horse.” Gets a corny variation in Go West: “I was going to thrash them within an inch of their lives but I didn’t have a tape measure.” This example is typical of how the Marx Brothers fell into a rut, no longer able to even parody themselves successfully, but forced to “play” themselves. Part of this was due to the toll of the years, but most must be attributable to a lack of motivation to break new territory; a somewhat decadent satisfaction with the exterior trappings of the clown; perhaps, even the comedians themselves, were deluded by their own image. RE: Chico Chico is the eternally “stupid”, vagabonding around with Harpo as his interpreter, inevitably running into Groucho, who tries to con Chico, but we see that Chico’s just too dumb to be fooled, and winds up conning Groucho instead. The two are constantly making business deals with each other, in which Groucho’s accomplished wheedling always ends in his demise. For, Groucho’s power lies in his ability to change the meanings of words in their pronunciation (examples from dialogues taken from sample films: “Frank”: ‘Now, I like education as much as the next fellow.’ “Wagstaff”: ‘Well, move over and I’ll talk to the next fellow’. Or: “Connie”: ‘What a day! Spring in the air!’ “Groucho”: ‘Who, me? I should spring in the air and fall into the lake?’). Groucho, in his eternal self-serviance, hears only what he wants to hear; he has to, otherwise he wouldn’t be successful in fooling himself or anyone. However, Chico shares Groucho’s eternal concern for self, and indeed hears only what he wants to. This is obvious in the famous “Why A Duck?” routine, wherein Groucho’s drawn-out attempts to communicate the one word “viaduct” are confounded by Chico’s insistence upon hearing the words, “Why a duck?”. Chico’s unrelenting Italian accent further complicates his character; it has its own rhythms, dialectically, with a lot of “a’s” between words. Hence another of his best exchanges with Groucho: “Driftwood”: ‘It’s all right. That’s—in my contract. That’s why they call it a sanity clause.’ “Forelo”: ‘Oh, no. You can’t fool-a me. There ain’t no Sanity Clause!’ (Night At The Opera). But Chico remains the least prominent of the “Big Three”, being somewhat of a one-sided sidekick for Harpo, functioning as an interpreter between the mute and the world. Still, in rounding out the dynamic duo of Grouch and Harpo he maintains the dynamic flow of the vaudeville, and comes under less criticism in documentation on the group’s decline. RE: Harpo Harpo stands out more prominently as the one brother for whom everything is not only possible, but inevitable; “He’s got everything!” Chico beams, which means under his coat. From its depths spring candles lit at both ends, cups (on saucers) of freshly-brewed coffee; blocks of ice; police badges; keys to everything (including jaildoors); butterfly and dog-catching nets (Harpo always hates dogs); horseshoes (Harpo always loves horses); blow torches; washboards and pasteboards, pots of mustard, a photo of Groucho’s grandfather, a Flit insecticide sprayer; etc. The thing is, he probably wouldn’t have a can- opener if you needed it for a soda. (He probably doesn’t even open soda cans before consuming them—As Groucho notes, “. . .He’s half-goat.”—pointing to his “Pan” aspect). Again, as with his brothers, Harpo is first and foremost in his concerns, but is seen to be more vulnerable to sentiment—somewhere within that coat is a genuinely helpful attitude, amongst the silverware stolen from the party Harpo crashed the night before. Harpo is the most heroic of the three. He is the one who charges headfirst into battle for the cause of a friend; it is his responsibility to unite the theme of anarchy with the plot, by being eternally “prepared”; in this, it is seen that Harpo is an illusion, for it is, of course, impossible for him to find all those things under his coat; and the intelligent viewer is enticed to ponder the levels of illusion in this medium: the illusion of character (Groucho’s moustache, Chico’s accent, Harpo’s inability to talk), the illusion of plot, etc. Illusion augments the anarchy through Harpo; however, no matter how strongly this mute drives home the fact that anything is liable to happen, independent of the laws of nature, there is no reason to bemoan this fact. Everything is funny; for someone to get upset over circumstances is seen to be an ignorance, on their part. For Groucho, Chico and Harpo are never at a loss for a witticism, stupidity, or “gookie” respectively. Everything that happens around them is part of their show; no matter what a gangster might threaten them with, or an investigator turns up as evidence against them, it is always just another reason to turn to the camera and make another joke. This is why the Marx Brothers’ films are called “uncinematic” (anti-cinematic would be a better word, in keeping with Groucho’s philosophy, “I’m against it.”) The camera, less than following the action, is ran up to and “made faces” at. One reason for this is the origin of the Marx’s genre, being the stage, where the use of angular or mixed perspectives for the audience was nil; another reason is that the Marx’s arc out after your attention; “you” don’t have to chase after them, they’ll run right up to you to make their anti-point. From the Marxian viewpoint, from which nothing is visible in the outer world but hypocrisy, the following applications arise. Elected officials are boring, contemptible burdens: witness this conversation from Duck Soup: “Ministry of War”: ‘I give all my time and energy to my duties and what do I get?’ “Firefly”: ‘You get awfully tiresome after awhile.’ “Minister”: ‘Sir, you try my patience!’ “Firefly”: ‘I don’t mind if I do. You must come over and try mine some time.’ “Minister”: ‘That’s the last straw! I resign. I wash my hands of the whole business.’ “Firefly”: ‘A good idea. You must wash your neck, too.’ (The minister may be righteous, hard-working and even sincere, but Groucho is a hell of a funny guy.) Women are merely sex- objects: “Wagstaff (Groucho)”: ‘Did my son tell you you had beautiful eyes?’ “Connie”: ‘yes. . .’ “Wagstaff”: ‘Oh, I know. . .he told me that , too. He tells that to everyone he meets. I could sit on your lap all day if you didn’t stand up.’ “Connie”: ‘Oh, you overcome me.’ “Wagstaff”: ‘Okay, but remember it was your idea.’ Teachers are overstuffed bores: “Professor”: ‘Professor Wagstaff, it is indeed a pleasure to welcome you to this faculty—it would please the faculty if you would throw your cigar away.’ “Wagstaff”: ‘The faculty might just as well keep their seats. There’ll be no diving for this cigar.” “Professor”: ‘My dear Wagstaff, I’m sure the students would appreciate a brief outline of your plans for the future.’ “Wagstaff”: ‘What?’ “Professor”: ‘I said the students would appreciate a brief outline of your plans for the future.’ “Wagstaff”: ‘You just said that. That’s the trouble around here. Talk, talk, talk! Oh, sometimes I think I must go mad. Where will it all end? What’s it getting you?’ Etcetera, etcetera. What I’ve tried to explain in this paper is that the Marx Brothers form a well-oiled three-man power machinery, using the film-comedy medium to make devastating exposes of every form of organization possible. Being such, they are dependent upon those organizations for their occupations as professional anarchists. If everybody adopted the Marx Brothers’ modus operandi, it would be a very chaotic world indeed. Luckily, there are only three, and so they are a pleasant means of escaping the rigors of organized life for awhile. *rapacious Footnote 1. Alan Eyles, The Marx Brothers: Their World Of Comedy International Film Guide Series, Tantivy Press, A. Zwemmer Limited, New York & London

Additional Material From Why A Duck? Darien House, Inc. New York City