I WAKE UP STREAMING

It’s official — I’m superfluous!

With theaters shuttered (temporarily, we hope) due to the coronavirus, and no one going out to the movies, nobody needs to know my opinion of a movie they can stream from the privacy of their own couch.

It’s not like they have to pay to get in!

So my column in Good Times is suspended until further notice. If we, as a town/state/country/planet ever achieve normalcy again, I expect to be back on the job. But who knows how long that will take?

In the meantime, I encourage housebound film fans to boldly go into the archives of the product-delivery service of your choice — Netflix, Amazon, Hulu, You Tube, Viewmaster, whatever — and explore titles from over a century of vibrant cinema.

Silent films, for instance, are astonishingly creative!  Check out anything from about the turn of the last century through the 1920s, back when the pictures were first learning to move, and they were making it all up as they went along. You’ll be amazed at their ingenuity!

Then there are Errol Flynn swashbucklers, Film Noir, MGM musicals, French New Wave, Hitchcock, Fellini, the Marx Brothers; they’re all out there, just waiting to be discovered.

Be adventurous! If something doesn’t grab you in the first 20 minutes, dial up something else. There won’t be a quiz, and there isn’t anywhere else you have to be.

Me, I’ve been catching up on movies I missed the first time around. Last night it was The Greatest Showman, an utterly berserk fantasia on the imagined life if P. T. Barnum, staged like a Hollywood musical.

Famed 19th Century opera diva Jenny Lind (Rebecca Ferguson) sings a power ballad. Keala Settle as the Bearded Lady leads a chorus of Barnum’s circus sideshow attractions in an empowering Millennial-style anthem.

But, hey, in the midst of it all, there’s Hugh Jackman in the top hat and ringmaster’s outfit, singing and dancing up a storm. I’m home alone — I have to have some fun!

Sure, I’d much rather be watching movies the way God intended, on a great big theater screen. And I fervently hope all this enforced home viewing doesn’t signal the end of the neighborhood movie house down the road, by giving viewers one more excuse not to interact with each other in public.

Still, there’s something to be said for watching a move with a cat on your lap — as long as she doesn’t mind the occasional popcorn kernel bouncing off her head.

ON THEIR MARX

If a person had never seen a Marx Brother movie before, it's hard to imagine what she might think of A Night At The Nutcracker, Cabrillo Stage's merrily Marxist new holiday musical. But for the initiated, those of us who revel in the gleeful anarchy perpetrated by Groucho, Chico, and Harpo in a series of classic movie comedies in the 1930s and '40s, this new Nutcracker is a welcome holiday treat.

Scripted by Billy Van Zandt and Jane Milmore, with original music by Ed Alton, the play (this production is its West Coast premiere) is an entertaining pastiche of one-liners, sight-gags and silliness that follows the plotline of a typical Marx Bros movie: three goofballs are turned loose in some sector of normal society—in this case, a staging of the holiday ballet, The Nutcracker. Mayhem ensues.

Company stalwart Max Bennett-Parker makes with the Italianate jokes and even plays piano as Chico surrogate, Pepponi; Matt Dunn is sweetly nutty as the scene-stealing Harpo character, Pinchie, the silent clown with his arsenal of horns. Both are somehow installed in the household of the Margaret Dumont character, frosty society dame Mrs. Stuffington (a formidable Lizz Hodgin), who is funding a holiday production of The Nutcracker ballet starring egotistical Russian dancer Rasputin (a funny Kevin Johnston).

There are young lovers (David Jackson and the ever-winsome Ariel Buck) singing schmaltzy love ballads, a con-man called Ratchette (well-played by Adam J. Saucedo) angling for Mrs. S's fortune, and his blonde, sexpot accomplice (a spirited Eleanor Hunter).

Best of all, there's Nicholas Ceglio as Groucho surrogate Felix T. Filibuster, private eye. Ceglio has Groucho's eyebrow-wiggling, cigar-flicking, hip-swiveling mannerisms down to the proverbial T, and he's great fun wisecracking his way through a Groucho-like repertoire of one-liners. ("These steps were given to me by Nijinsky—and, boy, was he glad to get rid of 'em!")

If the production lacks a little of the zing and snap of the original Marxes, it's not surprising; after all, they had decades together on the vaudeville circuit and Broadway perfecting their routines before they ever even made their first film.  The cool thing is how well Andrew Ceglio's production (he directed and choreographed) stays true to the irreverent spirit of the Marx Brothers.

Inspired too are the snippets of the ballet itself we see at the end of the second act, when all the elements come together. Performed by the characters in the story (after the professional dancers have walked out), Ceglio and company offer some very funny takes on the familiar music we all know—from the hilarious dancing of Dunn's Pinchie (on his knees, arms in pant legs) in the overture, to the staging of the Russian Dance as a duel between Groucho and Ratchette, each crescendo of the music accompanying a punch or kick.

The only drawback to the ballet finale is we don't get to hear any more of Groucho's jokes Otherwise, it's an upbeat finish to a refreshingly non-traditional holiday show.

(A Night At The Nutcaracker plays through Dec. 30. Click here for tickets and info.)

Btw, here are the real Marx Bros in action in Duck Soup (1933), possibly the funniest movie ever made, and probably in my Top 5 films of all time!