Chico and Harpo are a deuce of inept spies, and Dumont, she of the jutting bosom, is the object of Groucho's libidinous (if conflicted) desires: "I can't offer you much, my dear, only a Rufus over your head!" Ba-da-bing! It bears noting that the Marx Brothers' close ties to both the Dada and Surrealist movements - never formally trumpeted by the comedians, but readily apparent throughout their careers - are in particularly full bloom here. Firefly, the new dictator-for-life of tiny Freedonia who declares war on a whim on neighboring Sylvania. It sizzles with a barely concealed sexuality, at once infantile and highly intellectualized - smart stuff, through and through. Their vaudeville roots shine through at all times, but unlike lesser films like 1938's Room Service, the action in Duck Soup never feels overly stagey or ploddingly scripted. The plot - what there is of it - is little more than a device to dangle jokes from, but with the Marxes that was never much of a concern. Younger brother Zeppo fills the straight-man bill to a T, but the Brothers' perpetual dowager foil Margaret Dumont renders him obsolete almost immediately (as was usually the case). It's far and away their most cohesive battery of sustained lunacy, a fever-pitched series of sight gags (the best from the mutely Dionysian Harpo), and a barrage of puns, double entendres, and winking, often leering asides to the audience courtesy of Groucho and Chico.
War and fellow traveler anarchy get a workout in this 1933 Marx Brothers vehicle that moves like a rocket through a brief but unrelenting 66 minutes. DUCK SOUP D: Leo McCarey with the Marx Brothers, Margaret Dumont, Louis Calhern, Raquel Torres.
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