August 7, 2014
The Devil’s Brother
(a.k.a. Bogus Bandits) – US, 1933
It says a lot about audiences in the 1930s that MGM would
greenlight a film like The Devil’s
Brother, for, in truth, I cannot see any studio doing so today. The film is
based on Daniel Auber’s extremely popular 1830s opera called Fra Diavolo. Just how familiar audiences
were with it in 1933 is not for me to say, but many early Hollywood films were
adaptations of well-known stories, classic novels, and popular operas. In fact, The
Devil’s Brother was the first of three feature-length Laurel and Hardy films
to be based on an opera, the other two being 1935’s Babes in Toyland and 1936’s The
Bohemian Girl. (Charlie Chaplin had even done a parody of Bizet’s Carmen in 1914.) Today’s Hollywood seems content to adapt more modern Broadway
musicals or to create movies around popular songs from recent decades. I have
no doubt that were The Devil’s Brother
proposed today, the pitch would be greeted with some of the loudest cackles
you’re ever likely to hear.
Like the opera, the film is about a bandit known as Fra
Diavolo, which means Brother Devil in
Italian, hence the title of the film. Diavolo masquerades as an aristocrat so
that he can rob genuine aristocrats of their cash and jewels. In an early
scene, we watch as Diavolo explains to his band of merry thieves that he has
set his sights on an English lord and lady. In flashbacks, we watch as he
breaks down the lady’s defenses by serenading her with an old-fashioned love
song. His methods cause the lady to smile sheepishly and blush, as she vainly
attempts to conceal her budding interest in her serenader. Diavolo then begins
whispering sweet nothings into her ear, and in no time at all, she’s showing
him her jewels and telling him exactly how much they are worth. Mind you, all
of this takes place in earshot of her husband, played by Laurel and Hardy
regular James Finlayson. If only he were awake to hear it.
Diavolo is played by English actor and Broadway star Dennis
King, and he is thoroughly convincing as both a bandit and a ladies man. King
also has an impressive voice, and it is not hard to see why he gravitated away
from film and into Broadway and television. The problem is that his voice does
not inspire a tremendous amount of fear, regardless of the lyrics his character
belts out. King could sing about annihilating an entire village, and it’s hard
to imagine people doing anything other than running to hear the melodic way in
which he delivers such a dire warning. And this creates a minor problem for the
film, for Diavolo’s calling card is a particular song that he sings whenever he
is up to no good. People hear it and head for the hills, yet the song and the
voice behind it are simply not frightening enough for such fear not to seem
corny. Besides, there’s really nothing in the film to suggest that Diavolo
targets ordinary, hardworking folks like the ones we see scurrying for safety.
The film has a side plot involving a young woman named Zerlina
(Lucile Brown). She is in love with a poor soldier named Lorenzo (Arthur
Pierson), but her father has already decided that she shall marry an older wealthy
man. Knowing that there is a bounty on Diavolo’s head. Lorenzo decides to catch
the bandit himself and use the reward money as Zerlina’s dowry. Apparently,
this plotline is featured much more prominently in the opera. However, here, it
is reduced to a few short scenes, and neither these two characters nor
Francesca’s father, played by Henry Armetta, is particularly well developed.
The reason for this change is likely to have been the
expanded roles of the opera’s two comic characters, Giacomo and Beppo. Here,
they are known as Stanlio and Ollio, played of course by that legendary duo
Stan Laurel and Oliver Hardy. Early on in the film, the two of them are robbed
of their life savings and forced to start over. Such a set up would usually
lead to them looking for work and running into people whom they end up helping.
However, such a direction would not be faithful to Auber’s work. And so within
no time at all, we see Stanlio suggesting that he and Ollio become bandits. It
is a path that leads them to work somewhat begrudgingly with Diavolo. The film
marks the first film that I can recall in which Laurel and Hardy are
essentially villains.
The film has a number of memorable Laurel and Hardy bits,
from the pair’s early unsuccessful attempt at banditry to an unexpected scene in
which Stanlio is ordered to off Ollio if he wants to live. This leads to a
confession and a follow-up question that had me in stitches. Other treasures
include an infectious round of “kneesy, earsy, nosey,” which few viewers will
be able to resist trying immediately. Stanlio follows this up with an equally
challenging display of “Finger Wiggle,” which for the life of me I can’t get my
hands to do. Oddly enough, the film contains fewer of these classic Laurel and
Hardy bits perhaps because it has a more established narrative structure than
many of their other films and, therefore, much less time to devote to scenes
that do not move the story forward.
After a rather enjoyable, tight first hour, the film’s final
act is somewhat of a letdown. It is almost as if the director felt compelled to
stretch out inconsequential scenes just to reach the ninety-minute mark. It is
during this part of the film that King sings a completely superfluous extended
number and Laurel and Hardy engage in an equally long gag involving their
bringing ale up from the cellar. Neither of the scenes justifies its length. In fact, throughout the film, Laurel and Hardy
seem to be competing with King for screen time, and the film struggles to find
a balance between their comedy and his more serious musical numbers. Don’t get
me wrong. The Devil’s Brother is
still very enjoyable. It is both humorous and involving, and it includes a few
reminders of what films were like during the pre-Code Hollywood days. The film
just wears out its welcome a bit before the closing credits begin. (on DVD as
part as TCM’s Laurel and Hardy Collection)
3 stars
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