An Evening With Groucho at the Wick is All Monkey Business

Frank Ferrante kicks up his heels inhabiting Groucho Marx in the Wick Theatre’s production of An Evening With Groucho. / Photos by Amy Pasquantonio

By Britin Haller

Do you have to be a fan of the Marx Brothers to enjoy An Evening With Groucho at the Wick Theatre & Museum Club’s eleventh season opener?

No, but it helps.

Not to say there’s anything wrong here, because everything is right, especially Frank Ferrante, a man who has made a career, and spent a lifetime, impersonating Groucho Marx, the comedy legend with the greasepaint mustache and eyebrows, round wire-rimmed spectacles, and perfectly perched cigar. Ferrante is so on the mark that the only possible way the show could be better is if it were Groucho himself up there.

Groucho died of pneumonia in 1977 at the age of 86, but his legacy lives on for generations to enjoy through his enormous body of work, and through the wonderful Frank Ferrante.

So why the hesitation? Because Groucho should be enjoyed in small doses, and after the initial appeal and awe at the reincarnation before our eyes, the bloom in the first act may start to fade for those who may have been “drug there,” as Ferrante puts it, by someone else. He even makes a joke about returning to empty seats after the intermission, and claims he doesn’t know how Act Two goes because no one has ever stuck around that long before.

But those are jokes, obviously, and if you go, don’t let that deter you, and definitely don’t ditch out, because the energy in the room is about to shift, going from the mostly older audience (“Is anyone in the crowd ambulatory?”) politely chuckling along in the first act, to embracing Ferrante in the second act like he was their long-lost son. It was mesmerizing to watch the transformation. Typically an intermission isn’t included in a ninety-minute performance, and this critic initially silently questioned the need for one, but in retrospect, it’s absolutely the right call because something happens in those fifteen minutes. It’s like the brain needs the time to process, and appreciate, the remarkable moment-in-time event happening on stage in order to return with a fervor.

Groucho wasn’t always Groucho, of course. He was born Julius Henry Marx in an upper east side Manhattan apartment in 1890 (it wasn’t the wealthy area it is now) to a struggling poor immigrant Jewish family of five boys of which he was, not surprisingly, the middle child. Not surprisingly, because middle children are typically attention-seeking, check, like to alter their appearance, check, and often feel sad and underappreciated, check. Groucho was also a people-pleasing perfectionist, so much so that there is an actual syndrome named after him.

It’s not unusual that the ones who make us laugh are often the saddest. Emmett Kelly’s Weary Willie clown character and actor Robin Williams spring to mind. Underneath Groucho’s funny persona seems to lurk a similar morose nature, with self-deprecating throwaway lines that are supposed to be funny, but linger in the air, like “That’s how much I hate myself,” and “This is the most miserable night of my life.” Groucho’s insecurity is a running gag as he is his harshest critic. “Don’t turn on me, ladies and gentlemen, don’t turn on me,” and after the conclusion of one song, “Do you like music? So do I, let’s get out of here,” with the joke being on him because Ferrante actually has a lovely voice.

The king of the raised eyebrows and goofy eye-rolls, Groucho was doing bad dad jokes before they were a thing, but at least he knows they’re awful. “No moaning please.” Yes, all the classics are here, like “One morning, I shot an elephant in my pajamas. How he got in my pajamas, I don’t know.” And “I never forget a face, but in your case, I’ll be glad to make an exception.”

According to Groucho, their mother Minnie treated the boys equally. With contempt. She wanted to be a stage mom in the worst way, yes, that was a thing even way back then, and Minnie knew a meal ticket when she saw it. As he puts it, “She figured if a schmuck like her brother could make it in the business, so could her schmuck of a son.” By the time her youngest was eight years old, the older boys were appearing in vaudeville and making the circuit. Groucho wanted to be a doctor, but no matter, his mom had other plans for him, and he dropped out of school in the sixth grade.

As to the origins of the brother’s nicknames, answers vary depending on when and whom you ask. They are in order of birth, Chico, Harpo, Groucho, Gummo, and Zeppo, and Ferrante tells stories of them, along with tales of celebrities such as Charlie Chaplin, W.C. Fields, T.S. Eliot the poet, the playwright George S. Kaufman, and most notably, Margaret Dumont, Groucho’s leading lady in seven films. And no, they weren’t romantically involved in real life.

Improvisation is a large part of Ferrante’s act, and he has zero qualms about selecting audience members as the butt of his jokes. So definitely don’t sit in the first two rows unless you’re really good sports like married couple Bob and Paula from Boynton Beach were. “Oh, you came such a long way. Thank you for your sacrifice!”

Despite what some may say, this is not just a one-person evening, because Groucho’s accompanist and music director, the very talented he-of-few-words Mark Rabe, also acts as a straight man, implementing such props as a red rose, a car horn, and a duck call, and tolerating Ferrante as he performs one-legged push-ups on the piano and tickles the ivories with his tuchis. Yes, his tuchis. That’s talent.

Physically, Ferrante is all over the place, leaping and cavorting with Groucho’s silly semi-squat walk and dance moves meant to make his legs look like spaghetti noodles. Musically, all his favorites are here including “Lydia, the Tattooed Lady,” “Willow, Tit-Willow,” and “Hooray for Captain Spaulding,” Groucho’s signature theme song from You Bet Your Life, the hit radio and TV game show he hosted for fourteen seasons.

He talks a bit about the announcer George Fenneman with whom he worked. A “secret woid” duck, reminiscent of the one that was in every episode, hangs from the ceiling. P.S. We’d tell you the woid, but it’s a secret. Ever the salesman as his mother taught him, at the end of each program, Groucho would mention their automobile sponsor, encourage viewers to visit their local dealership, and remind them to “Tell ‘em Groucho sent you.”

The set looks like something out of a safari, a drawing room Groucho’s famous character, the explorer Captain Spaulding himself would have enjoyed. There’s a baby grand in the corner, a vintage black candlestick telephone, and a velvet sofa that shoots up a puff of dust the first time Groucho sits on it, drawing big laughter, especially when he blames it on the theatre’s housekeeping. A quick internet search says that’s a running gag, so the folks at the Wick can breathe easy, no pun intended.

The montage of the Marx Brothers is a nice touch, as are the photos of a young Frank Ferrante already dressing up as Groucho. Frank is in his fourth decade doing so having fallen in love with the comic at the age of nine, and by the time he got to college, he’d perfected his act. After being discovered by Groucho’s son, and with the Marx family’s continued support and approval, Ferrante has performed as Groucho over 3,000 times. If, however, you need further proof that Frank Ferrante is the real deal, look no further than Jeopardy, where he was, in an universal symbol of one has made it big, the answer to the following question, “Who took his portrayal of Groucho Marx to New York in 1986?”

Stars behind the scenes of An Evening With Groucho include the rehearsal and production stage managers Dom Ruggiero and Laura Garfein, Jack Golden, Alex Worthley, and Trent Lopez as scenic, lighting, and sound design respectively, and Kacey D. Koploff as the projection supervisor. Ferrante’s creative collaborator, whom he credits as being very instrumental in Groucho’s constant evolution, is Dreya Weber.

After the show, Ferrante heads to the lobby to speak with Groucho fans, share his Marx Brothers passion, and sell his wares, DVDs, posters, and the like. It would be remiss to not point out the obvious missed sales opportunity, especially right before Halloween and with all those eager grandparents in the audience, that 1930s novelty item known as the “Groucho glasses.” We all had a pair at one time, didn’t we? And wouldn’t one be hard-pressed to come up with something else that makes us all smile like that simple mask consisting of a bushy mustache and eyebrows, rounded eyeglasses, and a large plastic nose? Putting it on, or seeing it on others, equates to instant happiness, so much so that a 1999 article in Psychology Today talked about the effect of the Groucho glasses on depression. In 2020, the mask even became an emoji, today’s young person’s equivalent to being the answer to a Jeopardy question. How cool is that?

The love and care shown to Groucho by Frank Ferrante is palpable, even going so far as to choose the same title of the comedian’s last appearance in 1972 at Carnegie Hall, An Evening With Groucho. Even still, one would think after performing as him for forty years, Ferrante would tire of it, but if he has, he keeps it well-hidden, and at this point, the two are likely so inexplicably intertwined, Ferrante probably doesn’t know where Groucho ends, and he begins.

So, should you go to An Evening With Groucho? You bet your life, you should. It’s good, clean slapstick and just plain fun for all ages. But don’t forget to “Tell ‘em Groucho sent you.”

Britin Haller is a mystery author and an editor for Turner Publishing. Her latest short story “So Many Shores in Crookland” can be read in the 150th issue of Black Cat Weekly. Britin’s latest edit, a cozy mystery novel called Dumpster Dying is by Michelle Bennington and available where books are sold. Find Britin across social media.

An Evening With Groucho plays through Nov. 3rd at The Wick Theatre & Museum Club 7901 N. Federal Highway, Boca Raton FL; 7:30 p.m. Thurs-Sat; Matiness 2 p.m. Wed, Thurs, Sat & Sun. Running time approx. 95 minutes with a brief intermission. Tickets starting at $89. Call 561-995-2333, or visit thewick.org.  

 

 

This entry was posted in General, Performances, Reviews and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.

Time limit is exhausted. Please reload the CAPTCHA.