It could be said that in this episode Groucho Marx operates as a Hollywood-style Scarlet Pimpernel, with a repertoire of outrageous puns covering the steely, daring life of a counterspy. But, as Groucho might retort, his cover is at the dry-cleaner, and, besides, Groucho is not one to hide his light under any bushel (even one of stuffed clams). So he and Frank Denby, his sidekick, scriptwriter and close friend, set out to uphold their reputation as amateur sleuths by looking into the death of British director Eric Olmstead. First Olmstead fainted at a star-studded Halloween party after a man dressed as the Grim Reaper had whispered to him and then disappeared. But it is not until the next day that he is found dead -- presumably by his own hand. It is 1939; everyone expects the U.S. to join the war raging in Europe. And everyone is looking under the bed for spies. Soon the questions surrounding the death of Eric Olmstead takes on an odor of espionage. The police call Olmstead's death a suicide. After all, he did leave a (typed) note. His widow refuses to believe that her husband shot himself, and persuades Groucho and Frank to look further. Soon the pair is enmeshed in FBI agents and Los Angeles police, while the grieving widow clamors for revenge. Here is where Groucho proves his genius as a detective--he seizes on the clue that reveals the death to be murder. This, however, is only the beginning. There is another murder. Groucho and Frank are attacked; Frank is shot at (but not hit); Groucho is hit (but not shot at; just knocked to the floor by the fleeing assailant). They not only survive, but they pinpoint theNazi spy and the Hollywood figures working with them. In a romp made delightful in spite of spies, murders, and occasional dire peril, Goulart uncannily resurrects the most garrulous Marx brother and his unique brand of patter. The Groucho Marx of these stories is the next best thing to the capering of the late comedian himself, and a happy gift to everyone who remembers him fondly as well as those meeting him for the first time.
It's number five for Ron Goulart and the author continues to maintain the finesse, creativity, and cleverness in "Groucho Marx: Secret Agent." Filled with the type of humor and gags one would expect from anything about Groucho, this books is not only for serious movie fans, but anyone who likes a "whodunit"-and this one adds a touch of the surreal (using Groucho is anything but!). Famed British director Eric Olmstead is dead, with the usual suspicious circumstance. A day before he dies, he is seen whispering to the Grim Reaper-costumed person at a Hollywood Halloween party. When his body is discovered the next day, it looks like suicide, as a letter from Olmstead is found citing the circumstances of his death. Enter the intrigue of "first rate detective work" in 1939 Hollywood, a time when thoughts are just a often centered upon the Nazi displays in Europe (Gloulart gives a heavy dose of Hitler here!) and Groucho and his friend (a scriptwriter-what else) Frank Denby get down to business. Frank's wife Jane (pregnant here)comes on board for yet another Goulart caper after Olmstead's wife (yes, a famous actress!) convinces them that her husband did not commit suicide. Armed with the fact that they've now been hired to solve the case, off the merry trio trip. Yes, the books is heavily sprinkled with Groucho-like humor (especially the puns) but that has what kept this series so appealing. Of course, all this humor, plot scenarios, and cleverness are not infinite devices and Goulart, by the fifth book, begins to cede to this. Still-a fun read. Certainly not one to be considered seriously, but then not all books are. As Bacon says, some books are only meant to be chewed and tasted. This is one of them. (...)
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