Groucho has to be one of the greatest romantic heroes. Who can resist that greasepaint moustache and those waggling eyebrows? Not to mention the cigar. Silliness aside (well, that's impossible as long as we're talking about the Marx Brothers), I do love the films. And, formulaic though they may be, there are certain aspects I always look forward to and others I always laugh at - and heartily, just like the first time. I love to watch Chico play the piano. Harpo's harp playing is enchanting. I can't help myself when Harpo tries to explain through whistling and gestures to Chico that Groucho is being duped by a woman (though, Natalie could do without that - we've discovered she runs from the television whenever there's a screaming monkey and whenever Harpo does his thing). But, then, there's the inevitable wooing of Margaret Dumont. Whatever characters they play, the wooing is always the same.
Where has all the wooing gone? Swallowed up in sophistication and sobriety. Where's the silliness? I mean, after all, what in life can't benefit from a little silliness? It's terribly romantic. Think how great you feel when you laugh.
So, there's my prescription for the summer blahs: see Dr. Hackenbush for a healthy dose of absurdity and kiss me in the morning!
