Frank Ferrante has been impersonating Julius Henry "Groucho" Marx for well over 10 years, and not getting arrested for doing so. In fact, he's won many awards for his inspired and edgy recreation of that crusty vaudevillian, here in the U.S. and in London, and in 1995 issued a compact disk of this play, written by Groucho's son, Arthur and Robert Fisher. On a set full of texture and memorabilia, in two acts separated by a very long intermission, Ferrante effectively moves from a teenager to the ripe old age of 85 to relate the story of the Marx Brothers, and all their good, bad and ugly foibles. He also directs this four-member cast with energy, loving enthusiasm, and a sophistication that belies his 36 years.
The Marx Brothers' comedy rose out of necessity, when the four brothers lost their various jobs and broke into vaudeville not really knowing what they were doing. The carefree gambler Chico (endearingly portrayed by Roy Abramsohn, who plays the piano and the harp, and is also delightful as the gentle Harpo), is constantly responsible for getting the group jobs, particularly when all is lost. One of their most popular bits was the School Act, which the boys perfected. The lovely Marguerite Lowell, taking on all "The Girls, in the show, from Dowager to WWII USO entertainer, is perfect in all the roles. From the stage, the Marx Brothers went to film, with Groucho starring, without much luck, in several himself.
In 1947, "You Bet Your Life" premiered on ABC Radio. Using a musical theme from "Animal Crackers," Groucho moved to television and was a resounding hit for 14 years. Who can forget, "Say the Secret Word," always intoned with that sly smile -- reminiscent of Peck's Bad Boy -- and a twinkle in his eye. As in so many stories of comedians, while Groucho's career soared, his personal life was a shambles. He enjoyed insulting women. He was married to his first wife, Ruth Johnson, for 22 years; the last two before divorce were lived in total silence. They had two children. He married twice after that. His main complaint about women: they had no sense of humor. At the end of his life, this perpetual worrier and seemingly unsentimental man admitted that he wished he had told his brothers how much he loved them. Somehow, I think they knew.
At the performance of Groucho we attended, the play was being filmed for possible presentation on television. Scott Greer charmingly warmed up the audience by encouraging laughter and standing ovations. Arthur Marx was in the audience and told the story of how a number of years ago he met Ferrante, then a student at University of Southern California, and how they struck up a friendship and partnership. He and Fisher weren't sure that Ferrante, who was doing his own Groucho show at the time, could portray the older, more serious Marx, until Ferrante showed up at his door in white hair and the classic beret. With the cadence of humor, typical of his family roots, and a touch of compassion, Arthur Marx said, "It was like seeing my father come back to life. And I wasn't sure I wanted that!" He then presented Ferrante with a humidor that presumably belonged to his father. It was a sweet moment.
