Books: Groucho Marx, King of the Jungle By Ron Goulart (2005)

 

“Frank Denby and Groucho Marx arrive on the set of the new Ty-Gor film, a Tarzan knockoff, expecting to have Groucho do his humorous walk-on. What they find is that Randy Spellman, the star of the picture, has been murdered. Frank’s wife, Jane, is only a few weeks away from having their baby and the amateur detective team has promised to lay off on the sleuthing. But when a stuntwoman who has gone missing is suspected of the murder, Jane insists they take up the case to clear the young woman’s name. In addition to being a horrible actor, Spellman was a womanizer and a blackmailer. Many people had reason to dislike him, or even kill him, and the investigation leads Frank and Groucho through the glamour and seediness of 1940s Hollywood, Groucho signing autographs all the while.”

Groucho Marx, King of Jungle is the sixth and final book Ron Goulart wrote featuring the legendary comedian who solves murders in Old Hollywood with his screenwriter pal Frank Denby and his wife Jane. It’s also probably weakest of the six, as it shows that premise does have it limitations. It’s interesting to note for me, as I read this book, how much Goulart paints Hollywood of the period as one full of pretty blonde women willing to do anything to be a star, how everyone sort of used any means possible, like blackmail, against one another and how devious and seedy people can be. Set in April of 1940, the Hollywood Hills and the Valley are always fog strewn, with misty rain and dark alley’s beckoning the gullible. April can be a cool month here and generally suffers from the marine layer, but not so much as presented here.

Anyways, the plot of this book does get a bit more complex here, and maybe even a bit dark and certainly unsavory, but at the cost of the humor that made the other five a fun read, with a lot of that Groucho’s non-sequitur monologues never really hit the mark. There was also a subplot I wished Goulart would have taken up, that of a black man and a white women in a relationship in 1940. It seems while everything else got more serious, this one plot point was left behind –which made it a lost opportunity.

A fine, bittersweet ending, but probably for the best Goulart never went on to write more.