Monkey Business (1931)
Monkey Business sets a high watermark for comedy through not just the variety but the rapid-fire rate of its, sometimes peculiar, joketelling. The movie even opens with the comical image of four large barrels singing, each a different harmonizing part of the song “Sweet Adeline”, as our quartet are attempting to stowaway on a ship. Each member of the group brings different strengths, and though they are not evenly distributed, they all remain essential to the movie's formula.
Least substantially, Zeppo acts as a sort of heroic, romantic counterweight to the film's aggressive pursuit of laughs. His comedic contributions are minimal, but his place within the narrative is warranted.
Chico, the fluently non-fluent foreigner, supplies laughs through his usual linguistic foul-ups. Interestingly, one of Chico's ideas of making trouble is actually making music. His piano performance is noteworthy, his fingers tumbling across the keys with such precision it sometimes appears that he shoots the notes as if his fingers are guns. Chico is also an important partner in crime to Harpo, who is similarly musically inclined.
Harpo excels at prop comedy, physical expression, absurdity, and being a sex pest. On at least three or four occasions the character is seen chasing women relentlessly, much to their dismay. Harpo is also a never-ending fount of useless objects all of which aid his comedy. His cane horn is ever present, but he also materializes such things as false limbs, as well as a feather which he hits someone with, revealing the feather was further hiding a metal bar.
It's alright that Zeppo doesn't get much talking in; Groucho does enough talking for at least four or five Marx Brothers. With sharp timing and an even sharper wit, Groucho never fails to produce casual condescension and punitive puns. He frequently quarrels with Chico, at one point remarking, "You suppose I could buy back my introduction to you?" He is also known for launching into long, nonsensical tirades which deny the other party the right to speak; in one such case, he offers financial advice to a stranger, alluding to his own financial success before he declares, "Look at me: I've worked myself up from nothing to a state of extreme poverty."
Most important, all of these styles of comedy complement each other and account for weaknesses in the other characters. Harpo doesn't talk? That's okay, Groucho and Chico will bicker it out. Talk is getting us nowhere? Great, we've got unhinged Harpo. Need social validation to get into the right venue to continue the show? Zeppo is on it, he's got the girl. Perhaps most delicately, the musical sections give us a complex reprieve; they seldom let us forget we are watching a comedy movie, but there are moments of rapturous melody that are almost baffling to find in slapstick.
And that's what makes the Marx Brothers work: harmony.
Zeppo alone is another boring screwball comedy waiting to happen. Chico is just a wiseass with an accent. Harpo's a mute bum. Groucho is just an anti-social chatterbox. But together, they synergize into something far greater. What could never exist as a one-man show finds success in an eight-handed juggling act of laughs, music, and narrative.
Possessing a multi-pronged discipline toward slapstick, gorgeous and surprising music, and not one but four comedic powerhouses, Monkey Business endlessly rewards fans of the genre with a menagerie of jokes with enduring hilarity.