I've always found it very hard to see the attraction of the Marx canon Marx Brothers, that is. Their act seems to me to be of the kind that one is likely to be treated to by gifted amateurs at a party, delivered with an understandably embarrassed smile.
This installment is an operetta of sorts, with nouveau riche protagonists and singing staff, plus a chorus line of morons in swimsuits. The jokes are all delivered at breakneck speed, but not fast enough for my taste you can still catch most of them.
When they are not just silly puns, they're mild insults, requiring the various straight men and women to constantly register amusement, consternation and disorientation, instead of ending a pointless and boring conversation.
Well, one of these guys plays the piano, and another the harp, with the usual dire consequences for a captive audience, and they also seem to have prepared a few routines for our polite amusement.
The action (if you can call it that) conveniently takes place at such a party, where three identical paintings are being switched, stolen and returned simply riveting.
The guy with the mustache is supposedly so charming that the hostess finds him irresistible in spite of his constant derogatory remarks on her appearance and age and his designs on her money.
"Captain Spaulding," she exclaims, "you stand before me as one of the bravest men of all time!" So he stands before her.
Then there's a funny Italian and a bisexual rapist in a curly wig. None of these disgusting people ever seem to outstay their welcome at the house, although as far as I'm concerned they outstayed it just before the main titles.
"If I had any brains, I'd get a regular job," the leading man muses. I think I can safely say that goes for the entire cast.
The only marginally funny scene is a parody of Eugene O'Neill, who used to have even worse material. Let's face it: This can be of interest only to complete idiots and Woody Allen.
This installment is an operetta of sorts, with nouveau riche protagonists and singing staff, plus a chorus line of morons in swimsuits. The jokes are all delivered at breakneck speed, but not fast enough for my taste you can still catch most of them.
When they are not just silly puns, they're mild insults, requiring the various straight men and women to constantly register amusement, consternation and disorientation, instead of ending a pointless and boring conversation.
Well, one of these guys plays the piano, and another the harp, with the usual dire consequences for a captive audience, and they also seem to have prepared a few routines for our polite amusement.
The action (if you can call it that) conveniently takes place at such a party, where three identical paintings are being switched, stolen and returned simply riveting.
The guy with the mustache is supposedly so charming that the hostess finds him irresistible in spite of his constant derogatory remarks on her appearance and age and his designs on her money.
"Captain Spaulding," she exclaims, "you stand before me as one of the bravest men of all time!" So he stands before her.
Then there's a funny Italian and a bisexual rapist in a curly wig. None of these disgusting people ever seem to outstay their welcome at the house, although as far as I'm concerned they outstayed it just before the main titles.
"If I had any brains, I'd get a regular job," the leading man muses. I think I can safely say that goes for the entire cast.
The only marginally funny scene is a parody of Eugene O'Neill, who used to have even worse material. Let's face it: This can be of interest only to complete idiots and Woody Allen.