i'm at a loss as to what to say about these two classics/favorites, except that watching them in a glorious double feature highlights the sharp, giddy plane of anarchy that film comedy's early masters were operating on. both lampoon their targets with a frothy (but no less studied, or profound) ruthlessness that still stimulates and incites seventy years later, casting as bright a light as any other scrap of cultural record on how much, and how little, things have changed since Chaplin and Groucho stepped in front of the camera to chide people about blind nationalism, warmongering, uncareful industrialization, and capitalism, even as they harvested knee-slaps and tears of laughter.
"mister firefly, i'm a man of few words..."
"yeah, and i'm a man of one word: scram!"
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