Duck Soup

Leo McCarey, USA 1933, 68 minutes

Never in the field of human cinematic conflict has so much hilarity and mayhem been packed into so short a time. Yes, just when you thought it was safe to come out of the bunker, war has broken out in Freedonia and all because the ambassador from Sylvania called its leader an upstart. This is, of course, no more or less then we expect when the Marx Brothers are around. In the '30s they reinvented comedy for the talking pictures by adding their rapidfire, irreverent, verbal humour to the slapstick of the silent era. Along with their cross talk and running gags honed over years as stage performers, they take broad side-swipes at the popular film forms of the day.

In Duck Soup, swashbuckling Ruritanian romance meets Busby Berkeley musical and produces a blistering satire on the rise of fascist dictatorships. (Apparently Mussolini took this personally and banned the film in Italy). When Mrs Teasdale (Margaret Dumont) agrees to bankroll the ailing statelet of Freedonia with her late husband's fortune, it is on condition that "that progressive, fearless fighter - Rufus T Firefly" (Groucho) is installed as its dictator. But Ambassador Trentino has his sights set both on Freedonia and on Mrs Teasdale and sends couple of peanut salesmen - Chico and Harpo - to spy on the new leader. So much for the plot, the inspired lunacy includes: how to make an entrance at your inauguration, how to ruin the lemonade business, how to conduct a cabinet meeting, how (not) to avert an international incident, how to turn off a radio, what to do when you've broken a mirror, how to turn a court martial into a musical production number and some useful tips on military tactics.

The script is so full of corny gags ("Oh, Your Excellency." "You're not so bad yourself") delivered at such break-neck speed to a gloriously pompous set of supporting characters that this polished, surreal, and razorsharp comedy must have a very good claim to the title of funniest film ever made.

Review by Alison Dalzell
Taken from EUFS Programme 1997-98

Nobody makes films like this anymore. Mel Brooks may try but he always fails to match the invention, wit, and gleeful irreverence which can be found in abundance in the Marx brothers finest chunk of wackiness. President Rufus T. Firefly (Groucho), premier of Freedonia, declares war on neighbounng Sylvania just because someone calls him an upstart The Marx brothers' comic assault on international diplomacy, war, political machines, patriotism, and other institutions too numerous to mention, moves relentlessly from the very beginning, firing off immaculate one-liners and brilliant visual gags (none better than the much vaunted mirror sequence) like a scattergun. And just when you thought it couldn't possibly be more over-the-top they bring in a superb Busby Berkley style song and dance number to finish it all off.

Interest in the Marx brothers is presently perhaps not at its most intense. Duck Soup is not, however, a work based on a redundant sense of humour. It remains, throughout, an absolute joy: it is quite simply a comic masterpiece.

Review by Iain Harral
Taken from EUFS Programme 1995-96