At the Circus (1939)

KEEP THE WORLD LAUGHING

Today, we return to the films of the Marx Brothers. Their career in film had begun back when they signed a contract with Paramount, producing their first feature in 1929, The Cocoanuts. The four brothers (Groucho, Chico, Harpo and Zeppo) stayed on with Paramount until 1933, when they left the company over creative differences. After this, Zeppo left the act to become an agent with his brother Gummo, so the other three ended up signing with Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer. Towards the end of their tenure at MGM, they made At the Circus.

Young circus owner Jeff Wilson (Kenny Baker) owes a considerable sum on his business, but is on the cusp of repaying it. However, the man he owes doesn’t want the money; he wants the circus. He enlists the help of the circus strongman and the circus midget to steal the money, forcing Wilson to give up his circus. But two people wants to help - the strongman’s assistant Punchy (Harpo Marx) and circus hand Antonio (Chico Marx). So they hire Antonio’s old lawyer friend, J. Cheever Loophole (Groucho Marx).

There’s actually something of an interesting history behind the conception of At the Circus, which is attached to what would some would regard as something of an injustice within the ranks of Universal Pictures in the mid-30s. Carl Laemmle was one of the founders of Universal, and acted as executive and producer in the company, bringing his son Carl Laemmle Jr. on as head of production in 1928. Under the guidance of the Laemmles, Universal enjoyed quite a bit of success. One of their projects from 1929 was a partial-talkie adaptation of the novel Show Boat, though Laemmle Snr. was never satisfied with that version, so the pair embarked on a project to make an all new, all sound version, adapting from both the novel and the musical written by Jerome Kern and Oscar Hammerstein II. Looking for money for the project, a financier by the name of J. Cheever Cowdin, representing a group of investors, loaned the Laemmles $750,000 towards the production. However, after the film was completed but before it was released, the investors demanded their money to be repaid in full, which the Laemmles could not do yet. Due to their inability to repay the money, Cowdin was able to force the Laemmles out of their position and assume control of Universal, which he did and remained in charge until 1946. Had the loan not been recalled until after the film’s release, there would have been the money to repay it without any such takeovers. As it is, both Laemmle Snr. and Jr. left the business and never worked in film again. Sadly, Hollywood is actually full of stories like these.

Such was the reality of what had happened at another studio only a few years before, and so it became a loose inspiration for At the Circus, with a financier trying to force an indebted circus owner into handing over control of his business because of a loan he couldn’t repay. However, it was somewhat restructured to have the good guys come out on top, thanks to the intervention of the three anarchic Marx Brothers, one of who bears a name similar to the real life transgressor, J. Cheever Loophole (Groucho always did love a ridiculous name). Given the nature of the true events, and the influence of MGM producer Irving Thalberg, the story is a well-structured piece. It does occasionally lapse, making concessions to the public’s expectations of a Marx Brothers film, but it is, for the most part, a nicely controlled work. If you actually took out the musical pieces, it would probably be a much cleaner ride.

However, to remove the musical pieces would be to remove one of Groucho’s great signature songs, Lydia, the Tattooed Lady. It’s still a great and funny song, sang well (for Groucho) and very well choreographed as a full song and dance number in a train car. One of the other good moments is Harpo’s big musical scene, Swingali. It comes completely out of nowhere, and has a touch of the ignorant racial attitudes of the period (again), but it has some superb energy to it. This then segues into Harpo’s required harp recital, which becomes something of a mash-up of Swing Low, Sweet Chariot and Blue Moon. Other songs are less enjoyable, occasionally even a bit grating, such the love theme Two Blind Loves. Still, there was always this kind of problem with movies of the time, not just Marx films. And besides, you don’t really watch a Marx film for the songs.

The comedy scenes are very well handled, certainly more so than Animal Crackers, which you may remember me not liking much. Not long after that film, they had found their filmic style, and been given directors more suited to their comedy, so by the time At the Circus came along, their work was much firmer. Director Edward Buzzell, clearly having learned the best way to work with the Marx Brothers by watching their earlier work, spaces out the comedy pieces well, giving a more balanced play overall. Buzzell also keeps the pace and energy up very well, so it rarely feels slow or plodding. He’s also managed to get some great images and camera movements in there, like in the Swingali number, or the banquet scene, or the big finish at the circus. It’s always great to see the director actively engage with the world they create, moving through it with confidence.

Groucho continues his subversive streak here, again addressing the audience directly, but adding an extra twist. When trying to retrieve the stolen money from one of the bad circus stars, Peerless Pauline (Eve Arden), Groucho sees that she has slipped it down her top. Seeing this, Groucho turns to the camera and says, “There must be some way of getting that money back without offending the Hays Office.” And if you read my reviews of Angels with Dirty Faces and The Asphalt Jungle, you’ll know what that was all about. There is also the great Margaret Dumont later in the film, and both she and Groucho continue to bounce off each other beautifully. That Dumont doesn’t arrive until about two-thirds into the film gives things an extra jolt, as you know it will lead to the joy only those two can provide onscreen.

Scenes between Chico and Harpo are also just gold. After Wilson is attacked for his money, Antonio and Punchy try to figure out what happened. Unsurprisingly, this leads to Punchy repeatedly attacking Antonio. When Antonio tries to explain that they are just pretending, “you know, like in-a da movies,” Punchy shows that he understands by laying a series of over-exaggerated kisses up Antonio’s arm before picking him up throwing him down in some hay before being thrown off by Antonio. God, that’s funny, and it’s the sheer speed at which it happens that just makes it funnier.

Another scene of comedy gold comes when the three brothers are together, trying to interrogate the circus midget, Little Professor Atom, about the whereabouts of the missing money. Professor Atom is played really very well by a little boy with a moustache drawn on his upper lip and chomping a cigar (yes, the kid actually smokes it) and the whole scene takes place in Professor Atom’s little private house, which is too small for the Brothers to stand up in. The physical dimensions are ridiculous and the dialogue is hilarious, with Groucho occasionally dropping character and just trying to make the kid laugh. The fact the kid doesn’t corpse constantly just shows how professional he is. This scene also holds the one and only time in any of their films where you, sort of, get to hear actual sound come from Harpo when he sneezes. He sneezes so hard that he literally blows the furniture, and everyone else in the room, over completely.

Whilst it’s certainly not the best work of the Marx Brothers, At the Circus is still a great one. The script is well-written, the direction assured and dynamic, and the cast are on top form. There’s a great energy throughout, and the Brothers have some superb moments, particularly Harpo’s bizarre physical gags, which director Buzzell knows well enough to not get lost in fray. After the feeling of despondency that I was left with by Animal Crackers, this was a most welcome and needed return for my love of the Marx movies. And all it took was a smoking child, some upside down walking and a giraffe licking a women’s neck… that’s right.

Allegheny Uprising (1939)

The French and Indian War was a conflict that was fought between Great Britain and France in North America for control of what were the British colonies across the US and Canada (the name is something of a misnomer since Native Americans fought on both sides), and it ran from 1754 to 1763. In 1765, the Pennsylvania government reopened trade with Native Americans who had taken part in the uprising, much to the outrage of the Pennsylvania colonists who suffered greatly from Indian raids made during the war. A group known as the Black Boys, led by a James Smith, struck against these trades, destroying items intended as gifts and for trade. Based on events from this period, Neil H. Swanson wrote a novel called The First Rebel. This book was eventually turned into the film Allegheny Uprising (I believe it was known as The First Rebel in the UK, but they changed it later).

In 1760s British colonial America, when Jim Smith (John Wayne) discovers that the Native American population are being supplied with rum and guns from white traders, he tries to stop the trades. Trader Ralph Callendar (Brian Donlevy) begins hiding his goods in British military supply trains in an attempt to continue trading. Smith and his men attack the trains, which puts them under fire from British officer, Captain Swanson (George Sanders).

The adaptation of Swanson’s book was done by P.J. Wolfson and, to be honest, it’s not great. It’s a shame because the events of the film are based on some truth, of a British official named George Croghan who smuggled goods in military convoys to be traded with Native Americans in order to recoup losses made during the French and Indian War. Smith and his men stopped these trades, but the British regiment of a nearby fort sided with Croghan and so it set Smith’s men against the British army. Considering this was only about ten years before the American Revolution, this was one of the first signs of disquiet amongst the colonists. This is a great story, clearly rich in drama and history. Wolfson’s screenplay actually does do a decent job of holding this together, however it’s what’s added that lets it down. There’s a romantic subplot between Smith and his friend’s daughter Janie (she wants him; he’s not so interested), which really slows things down, largely because it never goes anywhere. Smith wants to strike against the traders, but Janie keeps wanting stop him because she wants to marry him and such. You’d maybe feel more for her if it weren’t for the fact that Smith seems to be genuinely not too bothered about it, so there’s a mild feeling of delusion about her desires. The film keeps trying to move forward, but she keeps on dragging it down again. There are also some characters that are either kind of superfluous, like Professor, or actually incredibly grating, like MacDougall. The central concern of Smith/Callendar/Swanson is actually handled quite well, though. It also boasts one of the most unintentionally hilarious lines ever: “This is highly irregular… and smelly.”

The direction from William A. Seiter is, for the most part, okay. Seiter was largely a jobbing director, more at home with comedy than anything else, so it certainly doesn’t hold the polish of other more artistically capable directors of the time (like John Ford, whose Stagecoach also came out in 1939 and starred John Wayne), but it’s decent enough job. What lets him down are largely the same things that let the script down, specifically the romantic nonsense. Also, the sense of time is somewhat off. The film is quick (about 80 minutes) and feels pretty brisk, but the film takes place over a period of weeks, if not months, and it ends up feeling more like days. It’s not particularly surprising since it would have been made as a quick westerner, without much thought to it being a lasting westerner.

John Wayne, though still not quite holding himself in the way he became famous for, does show a presence on the screen that would serve him well for many years. Smith is a good guy fighting for what he believes is right, and there’s not much more to him. Wayne can do that. Claire Trevor gives a good spirited performance as Janie, though she is largely quite useless in the film, spending most of it either being told to go away or being locked in a basement. George Sanders and Brian Donlevy are really quite good as Swanson and Callander respectively. Sanders does the severe and snobbish British officer well and Donlevy reminds me somewhat of Danny Huston, and that can only be a good thing. Wilfrid Lawson goes hog-wild with his MacDougall, even though he really shouldn’t have. MacDougall is clearly meant to be the comic relief, but he’s irritating as hell, whooping like a lunatic or babbling incoherently like a drunk. It’s not funny; it’s just aggravating.

One thing I didn’t mention before, but shall now, is the casually racist nature of the film. It’s bad enough that the lone female in the film is a drag and annoyance on the film, but the regular swings at Native Americans is a little unnecessary. Now, I understand that the attitudes expressed by these characters will be a result of the period. In fact, Smith, MacDougall and Professor all know each other because they were Indian Fighters, so they will naturally not be entirely fond of any member of any Native American tribe. Also, the Pennsylvania colonists would not be too fond of them either, since they would have been targets of the raiding parties during the Indian and French War, indeed that’s the initial crux of the whole film. The real Jim Smith’s Black Boys got their name because, as they do in the film, they blacked themselves up and dressed as Indians in order to take on the trade convoys. So yes, these particular characters in this particular time period would be without many kind words for the Native American populace. However, it does strike quite often with uncalled-for hits. They’re barely in the film (they only show up in one scene), and yet they’re constantly being called “savages” and “heathens” and “the only friendly Indians are dead Indians.” Again, I understand the context and I know that the characters would be like this, and it would even have been kind of acceptable amongst the films of that time, but it may be something that strikes a somewhat dissonant chord with modern audiences. It did with me a little bit.

Allegheny Uprising has the seeds of a fairly good work, full of action, history and drama, though it is heavily marred by a go-nowhere, do-nothing romantic subplot, some irritating characters and the casual racism of both the period setting and the time of its release. Also, there are some spirited performances on show and the direction is okay. To be honest, it’s an interesting story, so it would probably make a decent film today.