The first thing I noticed about 'Hellzapoppin' (1941)' was its title. It seemed to have no place in the 1940s, sounding more like the debut album of a bad 1980s rap duo. However, the film's title is by no means its most surprising feature. You wouldn't be wrong to compare 'Hellzapoppin'' to a Marx Brothers comedy, but it's even crazier than that. The story is essentially an 80-minute string of random gags, held together only by the thread of a narrative. I'd best explain by describing the first five minutes: a group of chorus-girls are destroyed in an explosion, tumble down into Hell, and are beset upon by devils. Our comedic stars (Ole Olsen and Chic Johnson) arrive on the scene, are attacked by a midget taxi-driver, and turn to the camera to ask the projectionist to rewind their last gag. The movie director interjects and demands that a romantic subplot be added to the film, much to the comedians' chagrin.
Admittedly, the film never really tops its opening minutes of madness, but there remain plenty of good jokes: in mid-story, the projectionist becomes distracted by a beautiful woman and forgets to follow the main characters; Elisha Cook Jr. is pumped with bullets because the director hates his screenplay – and his punctured torso spurts water like Jim Carrey in 'The Mask (1994).' There's also a talking bear, and a talking dog that remarks "whaddya know, a talking bear!" Also, don't miss a very topical 'Citizen Kane (1941)' reference. As Olsen and Johnson walk through a movie studio, they pass a sled bearing the words "Rosebud," and one remarks: "I thought they burned that!"
Amid the random anarchy, however, is an intriguing element of self- reference. The movie that the audience sees is essentially a film- within-a-film-within-a-film, as the movie projectionist (Shemp Howard, of the Three Stooges) watches Olsen and Johnson watch the first cut of their new movie. The stars frequently acknowledge their presence in a movie (or, more accurately, their own approximation of a movie), directly addressing both the audience and the projectionist. This cinematic self-awareness would be completely unique to its era if Buster Keaton and 'Sherlock, Jr. (1924)' hadn't done it first. Still, shades of Woody Allen (the fourth-wall monologues in 'Annie Hall (1977)' and particularly 'The Purple Rose of Cairo (1984)') and Charlie Kaufman are clearly evident. In one scene, the actors struggle for their existence as the projector- reel is knocked out of alignment, fighting frantically against the edges of the frame: one would expect to find this sort of deconstructionist gag in an Owen Land or Peter Tscherkassky film, certainly not in a 1940s comedy.
Admittedly, the film never really tops its opening minutes of madness, but there remain plenty of good jokes: in mid-story, the projectionist becomes distracted by a beautiful woman and forgets to follow the main characters; Elisha Cook Jr. is pumped with bullets because the director hates his screenplay – and his punctured torso spurts water like Jim Carrey in 'The Mask (1994).' There's also a talking bear, and a talking dog that remarks "whaddya know, a talking bear!" Also, don't miss a very topical 'Citizen Kane (1941)' reference. As Olsen and Johnson walk through a movie studio, they pass a sled bearing the words "Rosebud," and one remarks: "I thought they burned that!"
Amid the random anarchy, however, is an intriguing element of self- reference. The movie that the audience sees is essentially a film- within-a-film-within-a-film, as the movie projectionist (Shemp Howard, of the Three Stooges) watches Olsen and Johnson watch the first cut of their new movie. The stars frequently acknowledge their presence in a movie (or, more accurately, their own approximation of a movie), directly addressing both the audience and the projectionist. This cinematic self-awareness would be completely unique to its era if Buster Keaton and 'Sherlock, Jr. (1924)' hadn't done it first. Still, shades of Woody Allen (the fourth-wall monologues in 'Annie Hall (1977)' and particularly 'The Purple Rose of Cairo (1984)') and Charlie Kaufman are clearly evident. In one scene, the actors struggle for their existence as the projector- reel is knocked out of alignment, fighting frantically against the edges of the frame: one would expect to find this sort of deconstructionist gag in an Owen Land or Peter Tscherkassky film, certainly not in a 1940s comedy.