This star-studded comedy, inspired by the Russian tale "The Twelve Chairs" (I am familiar with the 1970 Mel Brooks version, but have yet to check out the 1962 Cuban adaptation or, for that matter, the 1936 George Formby vehicle KEEP YOUR SEATS, PLEASE – both of which I also own), was one other movie apparently favoured by famed British critic Leslie Halliwell. The nominal lead here is once-renowned radio comic Fred Allen in one of his infrequent screen appearances: he demonstrates an agreeable self-deprecating humour throughout, right from the entertaining 'opening credits' sequence – with every name that crops up being indiscriminately given the put-down by Allen!
He plays the owner of a flea circus, with a demanding family to support and an expensive gambling habit to feed, who suddenly comes into a 12-million dollar fortune – bequeathed to him by an uncle. Immediately, he goes up in society (literally lodging in the penthouse of a swank hotel) – amassing a lot of credit in the process (including a 25,000-dollar stake in an elaborate mouse-trap patent invented by Robert Benchley, father to his daughter's intended), only to learn when the actual hearing of the will takes place (by way of crooked solicitor John Carradine) that all that has been left to him are five chairs and a phonograph record! The latter, however, reveals that a considerable pile from the booty – that which had not yet been pilfered by Carradine and his associates – was hidden in one of the chairs which Allen had his geeky son sell off to an antique dealer, whose shop is burnt to the ground soon after! So begins a chase to retrieve the furniture, which in the interim has been acquired by a number of people
In the meantime, Allen's 'memory expert' son is suffering from a bout of amnesia following the near-escape in the afore-mentioned fire, so eccentric psychiatrist Jerry Colonna is roped in to treat him but he is more successful at satiating his appetite, since he goes so far as to establishes himself in their home! Besides, a relaxing outing at a movie theatre – showing the fictitious but hilariously-named "Zombie In The Attic" – is likewise turned into an absurd situation, as Allen and wife (Binnie Barnes) are referred by a variety of ushers from one floor to the next in search of an alleged seating-space! The film eventually assumes an episodic form, with the pace faltering slightly depending on the scene: a Jewish lady's decision to obtain an extra chair for her large family's annual gathering; Allen's real-life sparring partner on the airwaves Jack Benny, appearing as himself, and to whom the protagonist pretends to be the President of his meagerly-populated fanclub but whose surreal abode is equipped with hat-check girl and cigarette vending machines, where guests have to pay for every service they may require!; in his quest, the star also has to impersonate a singing waiter – as part of an ensemble that incorporates 'washed-out' actors Don Ameche, Victor Moore and Rudy Vallee!; finally, he ends up at the lair of gangster William Bendix, but who is revealed to be a softie underneath and a vitamin freak to boot! Following all of this with interest and increasing confusion is ageing cop Sidney Toler (then nearing the end of his extensive stint as Charlie Chan!)
The movie ultimately proves a minor classic of its era – much in the style of HELLZAPOPPIN' (1941), starring the similarly forgotten team of Olsen & Johnson! – and, though recently allowed a new lease on life via Olive Films' BluRay edition, I watched it myself by way of an old but, under the circumstances, perfectly serviceable "VHSrip"
He plays the owner of a flea circus, with a demanding family to support and an expensive gambling habit to feed, who suddenly comes into a 12-million dollar fortune – bequeathed to him by an uncle. Immediately, he goes up in society (literally lodging in the penthouse of a swank hotel) – amassing a lot of credit in the process (including a 25,000-dollar stake in an elaborate mouse-trap patent invented by Robert Benchley, father to his daughter's intended), only to learn when the actual hearing of the will takes place (by way of crooked solicitor John Carradine) that all that has been left to him are five chairs and a phonograph record! The latter, however, reveals that a considerable pile from the booty – that which had not yet been pilfered by Carradine and his associates – was hidden in one of the chairs which Allen had his geeky son sell off to an antique dealer, whose shop is burnt to the ground soon after! So begins a chase to retrieve the furniture, which in the interim has been acquired by a number of people
In the meantime, Allen's 'memory expert' son is suffering from a bout of amnesia following the near-escape in the afore-mentioned fire, so eccentric psychiatrist Jerry Colonna is roped in to treat him but he is more successful at satiating his appetite, since he goes so far as to establishes himself in their home! Besides, a relaxing outing at a movie theatre – showing the fictitious but hilariously-named "Zombie In The Attic" – is likewise turned into an absurd situation, as Allen and wife (Binnie Barnes) are referred by a variety of ushers from one floor to the next in search of an alleged seating-space! The film eventually assumes an episodic form, with the pace faltering slightly depending on the scene: a Jewish lady's decision to obtain an extra chair for her large family's annual gathering; Allen's real-life sparring partner on the airwaves Jack Benny, appearing as himself, and to whom the protagonist pretends to be the President of his meagerly-populated fanclub but whose surreal abode is equipped with hat-check girl and cigarette vending machines, where guests have to pay for every service they may require!; in his quest, the star also has to impersonate a singing waiter – as part of an ensemble that incorporates 'washed-out' actors Don Ameche, Victor Moore and Rudy Vallee!; finally, he ends up at the lair of gangster William Bendix, but who is revealed to be a softie underneath and a vitamin freak to boot! Following all of this with interest and increasing confusion is ageing cop Sidney Toler (then nearing the end of his extensive stint as Charlie Chan!)
The movie ultimately proves a minor classic of its era – much in the style of HELLZAPOPPIN' (1941), starring the similarly forgotten team of Olsen & Johnson! – and, though recently allowed a new lease on life via Olive Films' BluRay edition, I watched it myself by way of an old but, under the circumstances, perfectly serviceable "VHSrip"