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Monkey Business
I have a theory that I call the Marx Brothers Effect, and it has yet to be proven wrong. The Marx Brothers Effect (M.B.E.) is the belief that the popularity and durability of the Brothers is based on the fact that their films and onscreen personalities are not slapstick on the same level of the Three Stooges or Abbot and Costello; rather, they are simply an exaggeration of real people. Their antics reflect the kinds of of actions and the shenanigans that all humanity harbors inside of itself. The Marx Brothers act the way that we want to act, and they get away with it. We are jealous of their ability to always win, and at the same time, we admire their bravery as they reduce their setting, plot, and additional (meaningless) characters to utter chaos. I can prove the M.B.E., and it requires a bit of experimenting on the part of my readers: Watch four persons of the same sex when they are stuck together. Better yet, try this when you are with three same-gendered persons, and count yourself. For the most obvious results, the four in the group should be friends, but this variable is not required. Once these four are together, each person will always fall into one of the four roles filled by the Marx Brothers in their films: Remember this theory, and consider it next time you are surrounded by three persons of your gender. You will find, as I have time and time again, that the four of you will always fall into one of these categories. I have yet to find an exception to this rule. By understanding that it is our natural human tendency to fall into these different roles, we understand the durability of the Marx Brothers. They are us on screen, moving from scene to scene and reducing everything in their path into rubble with their endless antics. We love them because we see ourselves in them, and their best comedies are films that we not only laugh at, but we connect with on our basic human level. Because we want to do what they are doing. Because we wish that we could act the way that they are acting, to the extent that they are doing it. On that note, Monkey Business is hands down my personal favorite of their films, if not their best film. Many fellow critics prefer and war-satire of Duck Soup or the effective plot of A Night at the Opera, but Monkey Business is superior to both of them, at least as a pure comedy, because it understands the connection that the Marx Brothers has with its audience, and it places them into roles that we can identify with: They are stowaways on a cruise ship, for no evident reason except to cause as much trouble as possible. In Duck Soup, the brothers rule a kingdom. In A Night at the Opera, the brothers destroy an opera house. These are outrageously funny pictures, but most of us cannot relate with being the prime minister of a country or singing in an opera. We can, however, place ourselves as people without any real social status in society, being chased from those with more power than ourselves. This is the essence of Monkey Business: The Brothers run from the ship’s police. They pretend to be in a band and play instruments (badly) as the police run past. They sing “Sweet Adoline” as they sit in the barrels under the deck. They chase women up and down the hallways. They (in the film's best scene) steal a celebrity’s passport and all attempt to do an impersonation of him to get off the boat. All the while, they remain completely confident in their ability to get away with everything, and so do we. As a result, we sit back, relax, and allow the Brothers Marx to take us where they want to, and to reduce their film to chaos and absurdity. Their victims grumble, they smile with approval, and we laugh until our cheeks ache. Yes, there is a plot line in Monkey Business somewhere, but it is probably the film's weakest link. It involves rivaling crime lords who unwittingly end up on the same ship, their relationships with their daughters and wives, and how Groucho and Zeppo are hired to a man who Chico and Harpo have been hired to protect. The plot never goes anywhere, and it doesn’t have to. It simply gives the brothers additional characters to wreck havoc upon, and steal their sweethearts while they are at it. Monkey Business is also the best of the films because of it gives equal time to the four protagonists. Other films had storylines that focused or relied mainly on different brothers (Groucho in Duck Soup, Harpo in Love Happy, Zeppo in I'll Say She Is, etc.). In Monkey Business, all four brothers have just about equal screen time, and each is essential to the plot. By having none of the brothers sidelined, the necessity for all four truly shines through. Consider the final scene (and since plot doesn’t matter, I’m really not giving anything away) in which the brothers are in a barn. Here, the M.B.E. theory clearly holds true, for both the brothers and the audience. Zeppo is fighting a man who has kidnapped his lover. There’s the straight man, doing a noble act. Groucho is the voice-over for the fight, talking like a radio commentator as the punches fly. The leader, trying to hog the action. Chico is ringing the bell to signal each round, occasionally shouting one-liners. There’s the rebel, trying to gain the edge over Groucho. Harpo is rolling around in the hay looking for women, and also flirting with a cow. The clown, acting completely oblivious to the others. Together, they act in every chaotic, rebellious way possible, and we applaud and cheer them on, all the while shaking our heads and thinking, “I wish I’d thought of that.” Which of the four brothers you are in your group, I leave to you to figure out (which one I am, I’ll never tell!). I suggest that you try the theory out in a public place, but not before you watch Monkey Business with three other people. As you watch, take thorough notes one and all, and compare them after your viewing. This film is the blueprint for total anarchy, made by professionals for those who would follow after them. The Marx Brothers are not comedians; they are gods of chaos sent to us from Mount Olympus for the mere mortals to study and learn from. So, start studying and learning!
A Paramount Pictures release.
Directed by Norman Z. McLeod. Writers not important (the Marx
Brothers, in good form, improvised practically everything). No
M.P.A.A. rating (fine for kids). Running time: 77 minutes. Original
U.S. release date: September 19, 1931. Questions? Comments? E-mail me: danel_the_tinman@hotmail.com |
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A)
The leader. This guy is the head of the troupe, who always
has a bright idea. Still, he remains the most pessimistic of the
four. He is quick to insult, or at least make a joke at someone
else’s expense. To him, the world (or at least the room)
is his plaything for him to rule and focus all attention on himself.
When he is not in control (and he rarely isn’t), he will
get frustrated and anal with all those around him, but he will
still maintain his cool as he hurls insults at everyone within
a ten-foot radius.
B)
The rebel. He goes along with the leader’s
ideas, but he’s quick to point out their flaws and offer
his own solution. The rebel has an answer for every insult that
is flung at him from the leader. In fact, the two literally feed
off of each other—they are constantly at odds, but their
interactions only reveal the strength of their personalities,
and secretly, they love their conflicts. The rebel will rarely
have a bright idea of his own, but he will certainly give anyone
who offers him suggestions or tries to push him around a hard
time.
C)
The clown. Probably a man of few words, but if he does
speak, he is nearly unintelligible and on his own plain of existence.
The clown couldn’t care less who the leader is or where
he goes with his friends; he is simply determined to have a good
time and cause as much trouble as he can. While the rebel and
the leader bicker and argue, the clown will usually employ some
ridiculous actions that have nothing to do with anything concerning
the other three, and he unintentionally draws attention to himself.
The clown lives in his own little world, and it seems that the
others have picked him up and taken him along for the ride for
the simple reason that he amuses them.
D)
The straight man. The most normal of the group. He seldom
conjures up any laughs, and he exists mainly to stand in the back
ground with his mouth open and offer occasional insight to the
leader. Sometimes, he gets the girl; other times, he simply joins
with his friends and goes along for the ride. The straight man
is the most unremarkable of the four, but in some ways, he is
the most important. By being a normal fellow who rarely sees anything
wrong with the actions of the other three, the straight man is
something of the spokesman for the group to the outside world;
he is the door that opens up the other three to the startled public
that looks on.