stevenlshoup

There are two groups in the "Best Marx Brothers Movie Ever" debate. One favors the Marxes integrated into the traditional Hollywood formula: the excellent "A Night at the Opera"; the other insists it's the film where Hollywood is helpless while the boys unleash their anarchistic, trademark lunacy against conventions to new heights: "Duck Soup." I am in the latter group.

The plot in a nutshell: The Marx Brothers go to war.

The government of Fredonia has been mismanaged to the point that it must borrow $20 million from Mrs. Chester Teasdale to stay afloat. She, with single-minded termination, refuses unless the president resigns and hands the government to Rufus T. Firefly (Groucho) who proceeds to bring the nation to a grinding halt. Adding to the national woes, neighboring Sylvania has been plotting to have the Fredonian government overthrown so that they can overrun it and this mission has been headed by Ambassador Trentino (Louis Calhern), with Vera Marcal (Raquel Torres) handling Mrs. Teasdale and his two crack spies Chicolini and Pinky (guess who) shadowing Firefly. It is presidential assistant Bob Roland(Zeppo) who suggests Firefly insult Trentino who will strike Firefly and they can force the ambassador to leave the country. Sounds good on paper, but Firefly winds up being insulted by Trentino then slapping him, which leads to a declaration of war! And what a war it is: Groucho is able to be uniformed as a southern general, northern corporal, boy scout, fur trapper and drum major -- and that's during the first assault! By the time the short-wave radio cries "Help is on the way!" what follows will have you rolling on the floor!

Duck Soup is the dazzling, frenzied, unrelenting, full-steam-ahead, no-holds-barred trademark brand of nose-thumbing, up-yours comedy that the Marx Brothers created in vaudeville, honed to razor sharpness in bus and truck tours, and finally exploded onto 1920's Broadway, making them national treasures. Where W.C. Fields had his muttering, cynical way of tilting at windmills with a pool cue, Groucho, Chico, Harpo, and Zeppo stormed the windmills with surface-to-air missiles. No convention was too big, no icon too treasured, no societal norms too entrenched to be blistered by these madmen of surreal comedy. As with most classics, "Soup" bombed at the box-office and Paramount didn't re-sign the Brothers. But time and succeeding generations have elevated this film to one of the best movies in the annals of American film making.

Within "Duck Soup" is a treasure trove of priceless routines. To mention a few: Firefly's coronation and musical offering of how he'll run the country; Harpo and Groucho with a motorcycle and sidecar; Chicolini and Pinky's spy report to Trentino; Groucho's cabinet meeting; Harpo's phone conversation, the three (count 'em three) encounters with a lemonade vendor; three night-gowned Fireflys racing around the Teasdale mansion seeking the secret war plans, which leads to the legendary and Dali-like Mirror Sequence (Continuity be damned. Who cares if shattered glass disappears or a complete reversed room is behind that wall mirror -- this routine is CLASSIC); Chicolini's court-marshal and trial, all leading to the musical embodiment of national hysteria for warfare: "The Country's Going To War".

Scripted by Bert Kalmar and Harry Ruby (they composed the music for the Marxes Broadway show, "Animal Crackers") with Arthur Sheekman and Nat Perrin, the story is a smörgåsbord of laugh lines and hysterical visuals that skip merrily into surrealism. Kalmar and Ruby's music here (their "Hooray for Captain Spaulding," became the theme music for Groucho's quiz show and the popular standard, "Who's Sorry Now?" was theirs. MGM made them the subject of "Three Little Words") is enjoyable, albeit unmemorable and their lyrics an homage to Gilbert and Sullivan. The break-neck direction and pacing is courtesy of fabled director Leo McCarey (best remembered for directing Going My Way). Margaret Dumont returns as "the fifth Marx Brother" with her oh-so-refined and dignified Mrs. Gloria Teadale, Groucho's perfect foil for his mangy-lover/insult barrage. There are superb supporting cast members, too. Louis Calhern (Annie Get Your Gun) is dignified and oily as Ambassador Trentino (what better target for Chico and Harpo?). Also in tiny roles are Leonid Kinsky as the agitator in Trentino's office prior to the entrance of Harpo and Chico (Kinsky went on to be best remembered as Sasha the bartender in Casablanca) and Charles Middleton the prosecuting attorney best remembered as Ming the Merciless in the old Flash Gordon serials. Finally, there is the brilliant Edgar Kennedy, crowned "The Master of the Slow Burn," as the lemonade vendor. Kennedy was a staple of the silent film era, appearing in and directing hundreds of silent comedies and also producing them. A master craftsman and his work here with Harpo and Chico is a fitting tribute to his significant contribution to the movies. This film marked the farewell of Zeppo. Tired of playing the straight man and overshadowed by his brothers, Zeppo stepped behind the cameras after Duck Soup to become a Hollywood agent. He wasn't missed. Also, this is the only Marx movie where Harpo has no harp solo and one of two movies where Chico doesn't play the piano – and it doesn't matter. You're laughing too hard to care.

Despite an unintended racial slur that mars the film this is a movie to treasure. I introduced my six year old niece to the Marx Brothers last summer. Having been weened on a diet of TV kiddie shows, computer animated cartoon films, and the pablum and sludge that passes for comedy today, she fell in love with the Marx Brothers! Yes, Harpo is her favorite, but she enjoys them all. So please, please, please, sit your kids down in front of the TV, get this movie and enrich them with unrestrained, genuine laughter, and introduce them to the funniest comedy team this nation ever produced and arguably the funniest movie ever made.

This is the last day of the life of Jesus of Nazareth. Even atheists know this one by heart.

In all of the ballyhoo, hub-bub, and ethnic finger pointing prior to and after this film's release, I'm convinced that the core of Mel Gibson's message of this picture got buried: We are unable to grasp what is meant by "Jesus suffered for our sins" and it waters down our faith. We have had our image of "suffering" psycho-babbled, humanized, compassion-ized, rehabilitized, and anesthetized beyond our 21st century comprehension.

Prior to Gibson's film, Hollywood was of no help with this either. They gave us a "suffering" for Jesus that amounted to a roughing up, bloody nose, and smudge or two on his ornate costume. Afraid that they might offend Christians (prior to a change of heart whereby they actively mock Christian faith) they white-washed the final 24 hours of Christ's corporeal life for the sake of family entertainment.

Mel Gibson has stepped up to the plate, researched his history very well indeed, and shown us exactly how the ancient Romans dealt with that which they deemed improper, criminal, immoral (which had a lot of wiggle room in ancient Rome) or that which they out and out feared and Caesar feared this lone Jew who was claiming minions for followers by telling them that he was a "king." Caesar wasn't about to be dethroned, which is how he interpreted Jesus' message. He relied upon the justice administered through his centurions and these centurions were wicked in battle and vicious beyond decency in their punishments. Rome had reached an uneasy but workable truce with the huge Jewish following within the regions they now owned and dominated. They had no love for the Jews, but tolerated them because they had to and visa-versa.

Gibson also captured the accuracy of the Jewish leadership of that age. The Sanhedrin (Jewish Council) had by this time corrupted service into personal power and standing for the Pharisees and Scribes (Hmm, sounds like a certain federal government I know of) and a renegade rabbi was turning the people away from them and to his view of Faith and Belief not by ones and twos, but by hundreds and hundreds. These power-mongers of the Sanhedrin weren't about to let this stand and they used every bit of guile, cunning, and semantics at their fingertips to trap this rebel. But this rebel was untrappable. And so to this crew it became "The Enemy of My Enemy Is My Friend" and colluded with the Roman Empire to destroy one man both powers feared dearly.

The chess game between Rome and The Sanhedrin over who takes ultimate responsibility for bringing the heretic to atonement is a clever parry-and-thrust of two powerful organizations. But Christ is aware that they are playing into God's hands, where Jesus is already prepared for what he knows lies ahead for him. He has seen Roman cruelty. He knows he will be exposed to it. He knows He must be. It is the will of his Father and no one else.

Many have criticized the graphic violence in this picture, but it is imperative that Christ's ordeal be graphically displayed. Only by this can we understand the full measure of His suffering. Only by this can we understand and have revealed to us what we see in the final moments of this film and what awaits us as good and faithful servants. Only by this can we know without question that Jesus IS the Messiah. Only by this can the honest impact of Revealed Truth of the Word of God be verified. Anything less is disingenuous.

Every aspect of this picture technically is impressive all around. Mel selected his department heads with great care here and it shows. Cinematography, art direction, set direction, costumes, lighting, props, score, performers – they all work together like a well-oiled machine. He has recreated the ancient Holy Land as it was. This film is made with a distinct "seasoning" of Catholicism, but it doesn't detract from the story for Protestants. Gibson does take some directorial embellishments not found in his source material: Satan's repeated visits; the snake in the Garden of Gethsemane; the raven and the crucified convict; Judas' delusions of children as demons, and such, but they don't work against the story. He also kept the dialog in ancient tongues. Not a word of English is spoken and it works! Jim Caviezel is a more Semitic-looking Jesus and gives a simple-stated, vulnerable, and moving performance. Hristo Naumov Shopov is a standout as Pilate, nicely played is Simon of Cyrene who is forced to help Christ carry his cross and Jarreth Merz is to be highly complimented here. There is not a sour note in any performance. Wisely, Gibson chose Non-name actors for the roles so that no "star" would outshine his/her performance.

For me two things struck me like a speeding locomotive: The aerial view of the crucifixion and Christ's near final words. In the former we watch until we realize that we are seeing the scene through a single rain-drop but as the drop falls, we become conscious we are watching a son's death through the eyes of his own Father. I was thunder-struck.

All my life I'd read and heard Jesus proclaiming from the cross, "It is finished." However, Gibson translates that phrase into, "It is accomplished" and the impact of that spoken insight was cathartic for me. I haven't been the same since.

This is NOT a picture you enjoy or are entertained by. Believers are either moved to the point of being more deeply imbued in their faith or they're repulsed by the violence. Agnostics and Atheists can watch this film as a different kind of political thriller. There is no in between.

It is 1898 and charming, cretinous Captain of Industry Beaumont has hired Col. John Patterson,eminent engineer/bridge builder to complete a bridge spanning the river by Tsavo, Africa.

Arriving in the continent he has dreamed of forever, Patterson meets his project. There are problems with it: Competing French and German rivals, Ethnic hatred among the crews and, on Patterson's first day there, a worker is attacked by a lion. He goes to "sort it out" by shooting the beast with one shot; gaining the admiration of his crews, lifting spirits, adding motivation to complete the bridge, and unleashing a nightmare

Only weeks after the shooting the camp is suddenly besieged by a pair of giant man-eating lions. Their first "kill" is Mahina (Henry Cele), considered the strongest man in the camp. This serves to unnerve every man on the project, including Indian rabble-rouser Abdullah, who doesn't like Patterson from the start. Nerves jangle and fray as the lions repeatedly and relentlessly attack and attack and attack! They strike under the cover of night AND during the heat of day; They kill not for hunger, not for sport, but simply because they like it. Men are dragged from their beds and mauled to death in the tall grasses; the hospital becomes a blood-bathe; Laborers aren't safe as the beasts leap out and snatch them from their work. Everything is falling apart and Patterson is at his wit's end as Beaumont arrives to make matters worse. And still the lions attack and attack and attack.

Enter Big Game Hunter Charles Remington who is as determined to destroy the lions as the lions seem determined to eat every man in camp.

This is an under-appreciated, well made, well scripted nail biting adventure. It boasts solid artists on both sides of the lens: William Goldman penned the script, Gail Anne Hurd and H. Kitman Ho are two of the producers who know how to spend the budget wisely, the great Vilmos Zigmond is responsible for the mesmerizing African cinematography. Stephen Hopkins directs with great vision and skill and the actors are uniformly solid and believable in their roles. Val Kilmer plays Patterson with an understated, simple and elegant performance; Tom Wilkerson is the charming snake of a boss Beaumont, Brian McCardie gains the viewers sympathy as a youthful, innocent, and doomed Angus Starling, John Jani is the stalwart Project Manager Samuel, Bernard Hill the irritable/irritating Dr. Hawthorne, Om Puri is the creepy, sarcastic Abdullah ("You are white. You can do anything.") and Michael Douglas, also an Executive Producer – he got the money – plays hunter Charles Remington, removing the sweet edges of his Romancing the Stone role to create our renown hunter.

Hopkins not only knows how to build tension, suspense, and terror, but when to let us relax and how to fill that time. The quiet moments are never dull. They let us empathize with these men, their characters get to develop and we bond with them and their nightmare. Zigmond (Close Encounter of the Third Kind) uses deep oranges and blacks for the African locale, except during a daylight lion hunt and cave exploration when he switches to bright sunlight, vibrant greens and sharp browns as if to show us that even a travelogue holds a nightmare. It is near Hitchcockian.

Rolling underneath the film like summer thunder (or the breathy growl and snarling of our killer lions) is Jerry Goldsmith's pounding, tribal driven score, which accents the mood and gives further dimension to the narrative. Listen closely, you can hear him using tonal motifs he developed for Star Trek: The Motion Picture.

As the hysteria builds and the men frenzy, many explanations are offered for the appearance of these animals: Are they the spirits of medicine men come to exact revenge; Or demons sent by the devil to keep Africa unsoiled; Or have they come to claim John Patterson? Is it to helplessly watch as they strip away the layers of security around him until he is exposed and defenseless against their teeth and claws? It is no coincidence that Kilmer is photographed at times slack- faced and full on and LOOKS like a lion himself.

Once this film starts, I can guarantee you that you won't be able to take a snack break, bathroom break, or even think about dozing off. It is that good. And remember this: You can see the preserved bodies of these two giant man-eaters at the Field Museum in Chicago, Illinois because this incredible story is TRUE.