aptain Jeffrey (or Geoffrey, as it’s spelled on a newspaper clipping) T. (Edgar) Spaulding (Groucho), famed explorer, returns from a notable journey in Africa. His first stop will be to the sprawling Rittenhouse estate, where the lady of the house (Margaret Dumont) hosts him for a special unveiling of an invaluable painting entitled “After the Hunt,” exhibited by art collector Roscoe W. Chandler (Louis Sorin). The manor is bustling with activity in preparation for the arrival, including Arabella Rittenhouse (Lillian Roth), the young daughter, who doesn’t care for these social events much, save for the opportunity to see the man she has a crush on – aspiring painter John Parker (Hal Thompson).

Horatio W. Jamison (Zeppo), the captain’s field secretary, finally announces Spaulding’s arrival, which thrusts the grounds into a singing and dancing frenzy – as this is a musical (based on the play by George S. Kaufman, which featured many of the same cast members). But even the standard assortment of tunes are arranged to be comedic, interrupting dialogue and commenting on the absurdities to come. “You mind if I don’t smoke?”

Once again, regardless of the monikers they don, the Marx Brothers all wear the same costumes and makeup and adopt the same voices and mannerisms and social positions from previous pictures. Signor Emanuel Ravelli (Chico) is the laborer and musician, while an unnamed, mute professor (Harpo) joins him as distinguished guests who immediately wreak havoc – and seemingly have no purpose being in the same location with the storytelling huntsman. Of course, the chaotic skits they instigate tend to fizzle out – or, rather, conclude abruptly with no thought for continuity. Instead of people continuing to react or respond to behaviors, the ending of scenes tends to dismiss prior actions (other shots begin as if mid-scene, essentially missing a proper introduction); this level of fantasy moves throughout, with Groucho regularly talking to the audience or having poetic asides (and unleashing torrents of insults that don’t appropriately offend their targets or tongue-twisting deluges of hysterical interrogations), virtually pausing the supporting characters and their activities. As with The Three Stooges and Abbott and Costello features, reality is terribly fleeting. “Good heavens, what’s the matter with his feet!”

Also in line with other comedy troupes of the era, the story here is minimal and largely unimportant (though it could have been integral, as it involves three stolen paintings). It weaves in and out of independent, unrelated routines, which have zero bearing on the progression of a plot. The bulk of it is roughhousing, chasing girls, concocting scams, stealing articles of clothing, and cracking jokes of witty wordplay (some of which are so ludicrous that they sound improvised on the spot). Even lengthier sequences, like a bridge game, start and stop as if part of a short subject that intentionally stretches out the runtime. Many of these gimmicks barely have anything to do with the setting of the cavernous Rittenhouse property (serving, on occasion, as a haunted house of sorts) – or the priceless painting, or the big game hunter, either. “Put that in your pipe and smoke it.”

Curiously, for a Marx Brothers comedy, “Animal Crackers” is a touch overstuffed, with time added to sing an extra song or two, or for Chico to play more than one composition on the piano (Harpo gets to strum the harp, of course, which is requisite). For the most part, it’s a competition between the siblings as to who can be goofier and more imbecilic (save for Zeppo, who, as anticipated, doesn’t have much to do), battling for center stage and for slapstick madness. When it’s funny, it’s very funny, but when it’s overly familiar or repetitive, it’s obviously so (in a cleverly self-aware manner). “All the jokes can’t be good. You gotta expect that once in a while.”

– Mike Massie