I went to bed pissed off last night. That is not unusual any more. I was doing some channel surfing and the caught a rerun of Dick Cavet interviewing the great Groucho Marx. TCM followed that show with a bevy of Marx Brothers movies. In my youth I loved the Marx Brothers. Monty Python had nothing on these guys. I imagined what they would have done in modern times without the censors. Their freewheeling comedy always gave the impression a significant portion was unscripted, and if we could see the cutting room floor, no take would be the same.
For some reason, I found very little of the movie funny. Maybe it was the bad editing or the poor sound and video quality. Mostly, the schtick was lame. Maybe it was a function of my mood or maybe I have matured. In any case, I fell asleep disappointed. Next I expect I will turn on a late night oldie and find Errol Flynn and Paul Newman are no longer the coolest, and Esther Williams and Raquel Welch are no longer sexy.
I think I need to give Groucho, Harpo, and Chico another shot. Our heroes should not be knocked down so easily. I will blame it all on my bad mood.
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