It's in the Bag!

Fred Allen was--with the possible exception of his "rival" Jack Benny--the biggest star in the history of radio. He was Letterman to Benny's Leno--an acerbic smartaleck who practically invented topical humor/current political events satire. While he had numerous small film roles and cameos (and later starred in TV's "What's My Line?"), "It's In The Bag" was Fred Allen's only starring role in a motion picture, and it was a good one.

The plot--Allen gaining, then losing, then frantically trying to recover an inheritance hidden inside one or more mystery chairs--is just a skeleton on which to hang the movie's wry jokes, strange interludes and satirical jabs at Hollywood stars. A trainload of radio and film comedians appear in this movie, including Jack Benny (with whom Allen shared a longtime "feud" that was as successful--and as manufactured--as anything the World Wrestling federation ever produced). Author and bon vivant Robert Benchley makes a strong appearance here, and Richard Wallace's steady direction manages to keep up with the comic mayhem.

Allen's irreverent humor, wild tangents and complete disregard for film conventions (including the sacred fourth wall) inspired Mel Brooks, who, drawing from its source material, made a version of "It's In The Bag" as his second feature, "The Twelve Chairs"--although literary purists who love the original darkly satiric Russian novel by Ilf and Petrov, take note: you will likely hate both these movies with a fiery passion. Even faithful Russian screen adaptations of that extraordinary book have failed to capture its greatness, and "It's In The Bag" doesn't even try--it's merely a sardonically humorous sendup of 1940s Hollywood in general and Mr. Allen in particular. It's no intricate Russian literary classic, but if you love vintage Hollywood comedies with an edge, you won't be disappointed.

Fred Allen made a living hurling brickbats and biting the hands that fed him, and one may surmise that his only starring role in a major motion picture would push the envelope. "It's in the Bag" does so, sometimes with breathtaking efficiency -- it's like a whole different world opened up in this film apart from typical 1940s screwball comedy, a negative, street smart and cynical attitude more in line with the comedic tone of later eras. But if you want to laugh, you might do better with a more typical screwball comedy of the period than with "It's in the Bag," as its episodic and composite construction as a film doesn't maintain a consistent level of hilarity, and parts of it are more confusing than funny. Fred Allen is terrific, and one wishes he'd been more interested in appearing in films, though his best work is unquestionably found in his radio programs; his deadpan mug, though, is effective in movies even though he had "a great face for radio." Binnie Barnes, Robert Benchley, John Carradine and William Bendix all stand out in this piece, and in the main "It's in the Bag" is definitely worth seeing at least once for its value as a dark, non-conformist alternative to American film comedies of the 1940s. However, it's a little too long, has too many moving parts and Fred Allen seems aware of that, stating in his ad-libbed annotation of the opening credit for producer Jack Skirball, "It's his picture."

Fred F. Trumble Floogle is the owner of a less than successful flea-circus. Struggling to pay his gambling debts, Trumble is most delighted when it's announced he has inherited a substantial amount of money from a recently slain relative. Jumping straight into the rich mans life style with his family, it's a shock when the dubious suit brigade tell him that all the inheritance money has been dissipated, thus sending the Trumble's into even worse poverty than before. But salvation comes in the form of a phonograph record, which on its reverse side has a message from the grave. It seems that $300,000 is hidden in one of the five chairs that Trumble got from the initial will reading. Trouble is is that his son has just gone and sold the chairs to a dealer, who in turn has sold them on to various people.

I'm not at all familiar with the works of radio star Fred Allen {Fred Trumble}, so going into this film blind as to his style of comedy was a bit of a gamble. Happily I can report that It's In The Bag, and Allen himself were a comedic joy. Backed up by the likes of Jack Benny, William Bendix, John Carradine, Rudy Vallee, Don Ameche and Victor Moore-Allen and the ensemble deliver quick wit and skits to laugh yourself hoarse with. There are some far better reviews of this film available on this site, ie: those more familiar with Allen and his influences, so I would urge interested parties to seek them out. For myself I just loved what I watched, skits around trying to get cinema seats and one involving William Bendix playing against type are excellent, whilst I barely contained my joy during a sequence as Don Ameche recites poetry during a riot. Full of gags both visual and oral, It's In The Bag comes highly recommended to those that enjoy old time comedy with a sharp and prickly edge to it. 8/10

For anyone who is considering a career as a comedian, It's In The Bag should be required viewing. For the rest of us it gives us many laughs and it's the one and only opportunity to see Fred Allen's talents on full display.

Allen's brand of absurdist humor has influenced so many people right down to today. You can see traces of his influence in Rowan&Martin's Laugh-In, the Mighty Carson Art Players from the Tonight Show and even Monty Python's Flying Circus and may be most of all the work of Mel Brooks on the screen. Because the cinema of necessity a tightly controlled script is in order, one aspect of Allen you don't see was his quick wit with an ad-lib. Some even consider him faster with a quip than Groucho Marx.

The premise for this film is that Fred is the financially strapped owner of a flea circus, owing everybody in town including bookie Ben Welden and barely supporting wife Binnie Barnes and children Gloria Pope and Richard Tyler. A long unheard of uncle however is murdered and the uncle left Allen a set of five chairs.

Our genius of a hero sells them off before a phonograph record from his late uncle tells him that $300,000.00 is hidden in one of the chairs together with clues as to who murdered him. Of course the perpetrators are shadowing Allen's every move as he seeks to retrieve the chairs from their new owners and find his fortune in the lining.

The whole thing is an excuse for several skits as Allen goes on his quest for the chairs. One of the chairs was sold to Minerva Pious who is Mrs. Nussbaum and a regular on Allen's radio show. She happened to sell the chair to one Jack Benny.

Benny's character as a miser has become so ingrained in the American culture that even today people who've heard the name know that about him and can appreciate the cheap jokes. What they might not realize is that Jack Benny and Fred Allen engaged in one of the great famous radio feuds so that dimension of the scene with Fred Allen might be lost.

Another couple of chairs goes to a nightclub where folks like Don Ameche, Rudy Vallee, and Victor Moore are picking up some extra money as singing waiters. Another goes to William Bendix, head of the criminal Bendix gang. Bendix is terrific burlesquing his own tough guy image and John Carradine who played many a sinister role on screen looks like he's having a ball playing a crooked lawyer.

Even Jerry Colonna is in this film, on loan from Bob Hope's radio show playing a zany psychiatrist. There is so much in It's In The Bag packed into less than 90 minutes you can hardly stop for breath.

This film is a rare comic treat and should never be missed when broadcast. Demand TCM acquire this film and broadcast it.

It's a pity that some of the one time classic works of popular culture are now dusty and distant to most of us. This is particularly true of that remarkable medium of radio. Radio had an impact from 1920 to 1960, when it was replaced by television. Television assaulted radio with it's versions of talk shows and game shows. It was one thing to hear that Mr. X won a new car, but quite more effective to see Mr. X looking at a new Buick or Rambler or Oldsmobile. It was more interesting watching Edward R. Murrow on Person to Person with a celebrity than just listening to them talk (in one case Murrow did one interview that was impossible on radio - he interviewed Harpo Marx).

There was just one area that radio beat out television. By relying on voices only, radio stimulated the imagination of the audience. It was very effective in comedy shows. Jack Benny would say he had to get some money, and the sound effects would create (in the listener's minds) the fabled Benny vault, which was further down than Fort Knox's and guarded by a Civil War veteran. Fred Allen would go outside down Allen's Ally, and interview a cross section of the American public every week, including a relic of New England, a voice of the deep south, and a Jewish lady who constantly mangled English and managed to make her family's triumphs and travails part of the issue.

Allen is sadly forgotten today - you can get recordings of his show on tape, but the references deal with the political/social world of the 1940s and 1950s. This is the fate of all topical humor. Just wait four decades and play that hysterical list joke by David Letterman or opening monologue by Jay Leno to some teenagers. See how quickly they get bored and ask you "Did you really find this funny?"

Allen was sharp in his comments - the most remembered is his reference to the size of a heart of a Hollywood agent (which was smaller than an olive pit). He would be able to skirt censors pretty well. In one sketch he talked of a new sponsor - a watch manufacturer named Fuller Bullova. With his normal group of second bananas Allen would satirize the politics of the period, or the social figures of the day (Dawson Bells, a prominent actor/producer,describing his latest movie says, "The street is a symbol, the music is a symbol, the drums are a symbol, the cymbal is a symbol!"). Allen wrote his own material, and wrote very well.

If he is remembered it is for the fake feud he had with his friend Jack Benny. Apparently it began when he pretended that Benny had not been funny at all. Benny laughed, called Allen up and asked if he could zing some back at him. Allen was smart enough to say yes - and the feud became famous in radio lore. It also got into their films, where Allen and Benny would confront each other (most notably in the whole film LOVE THY NEIGHBOR). In this film, there is only one scene of Benny with Allen and it is a different type of joke. Whereas the two are clashing in LOVE THY NEIGHBOR, in IT'S IN THE BAG it is a scene where a desperate Allen goes to try to re-buy a chair from Benny, who is all to happy to sell it back - he sells everything as either a souvenir of your visit or a refreshment (including water). Allen, to see Benny, has to pretend he's a fan, and asks him the secret of his success, and Benny explains that the basis is his timing - he is constantly delaying audience reaction (which should be hostile) by slowly reacting as he thinks about what he said and wonders what it means.

IT'S IN THE BAG shows Allen at his best, because it is not shared with Benny as LOVE THY NEIGHBOR, or shared with Jimmy Durante in SALLY, IRENE, AND MARY. He is in the center, trying to reclaim a stolen or missing fortune (hidden in a chair). To do this requires him dealing with his wife Binnie Barnes, with his daughter's potential father-in-law Robert Benchley, with crooked lawyers John Carridine and John Miljan, and with hostile police detective Sidney Toler (his second best comic performance after THE PHANTOM PRESIDENT). He also crosses paths with an insane (and insatiably hungry) psychiatrist (Jerry Colonna), and a gang boss who would like to go straight, but inherited his gang from his mother, Machine Gun Molly. The gang boss is William Bendix. Allen's humor is in his sharp reactions to everyone around him.

My favorite moment is when he and Binnie go out to a nightclub, to hear the doorman say, "Plenty of room folks! Always plenty of room!" There is no more room. Later that same night thy go to the movies only to find the same idiot using the same spiel to bring more people into the theater. They do find seats in something like the twelfth level of balconies. In disgust at his poor seats (they can barely see a screen), Allen goes out to find the manager (Emory Parnell). He complains about the witless idiot bringing people in when there are no decent seats. Parnell is upset, until he hears who was responsible. "Oh that's Joe," he says while he laughing, "Good old Joe, ever the optimist!" This is his sole explanation of what happened.

The film is resolved happily, with most of the people involved showing up at a party at the Floogles. As he watches them arriving, Allan shakes his head and says, "Everything but the kitchen sink." A moment later one of them lowers a kitchen sink. Perfect ending to a laugh fest.