The pleasures of Too Many Kisses, a 1925 silent film making its TCM premiere on Nov. 29, are plentiful. There’s the dashing hero played by Richard Dix, who is perhaps best known to Mel Brooks fans as a punchline in Blazing Saddles (1974). There’s William Powell in a rare villainous role as Dix’s romantic rival. But for Marx Brothers aficionados, this comedic romantic adventure is a long-sought archival treasure that marks the screen debut of Harpo Marx, who is credited as a Basque village’s Peter Pan.
Perhaps the most joyful aspect of the restoration and release of Too Many Kisses is its music score, composed and performed by Harpo’s adopted son, Bill Marx. “I’ve come full circle,” said the Juilliard graduate, film and television composer and for decades one of Los Angeles’ most sought-after cabaret pianists. When he was in his late teens and 20s, he was his father’s arranger, orchestrator and accompanist.
Too Many Kisses’ restoration is the work of the Film Preservation Society, founded by Tracey Goessel. Her husband, Robert Bader, produced the film’s Blu-ray release and wrote Four of the Three Musketeers, the definitive chronicle of the Marx Brothers’ vaudeville career. Bader was one of what Marx calls the “young lions,” who played an integral role in a Marx-aissance in the 1970s, when college students embraced the Marx Brothers as kindred rebellious spirits. When Bader approached Marx to compose the score, he could not say no to working, so to speak, with his father one last time.
Long thought lost until it was found in the 1970s, Too Many Kisses has long been something of a Holy Grail for Marx Brothers fans. Were you aware of it? Did your father ever discuss it?
Bill Marx: I didn’t know much about it at all. My dad passed away in 1964. In the 1970s, college students rediscovered the Marx Brothers. There was a group that would contact my mother, Susan. They would come out to Palm Springs. She told them stories and they were thrilled. Robert Bader was one of them. He befriended my mother and actually co-wrote her autobiography which was never published.
He invited me to a screening of the film about 30 years ago at the home of (veteran Disney executive) Howard Green. It was a blast to see my father look so young. When the Film Preservation Society arranged to restore the film, Robert said he wanted me to do the score. I had quit composing for films a long time ago, but he said, ‘You’ve got to do this for your dad.’ He came down here and recorded me playing on dad’s 1935 Steinway Grand.
At what age did you realize that your father was “Harpo Marx” and part of one of the most beloved comedy teams of all time?
BM: Probably around the time he was making Love Happy (1949). I was 11 years old. I was adopted in 1938 when he was 50. I only really got to know him when he was in his 60s. I always viewed him as Dad; I never thought of him as anything else. I never really realized how profound an impact the brothers had on people until I went to England with him when I was 12. He played the London Palladium. People adored him.
Surely you noticed that when you were out with him in public.
BM: Without the coat, the wig and the hat, you would not recognize him. The issue of him being or not being recognized was a two-way sword. He could walk anywhere he wanted and nobody would know who he was. The flip side of that is he could walk anywhere he wanted and nobody knew who he was.
Did that bother him?
BM: No; are you kidding? (Laughs)
What was it like to collaborate with your father?
BM: I was in the act when he played the Palladium. I played the part of an angel. For the most part, I was his prop man. I prepped his coat for him and stuffed 300 knives in his sleeve. By the time I was 16, I was his arranger-conductor. We did two albums for Mercury Records. I did all of the orchestrations and his harp solo arrangements for all of his television show and concert appearances. After he had a heart attack, he could not perform for a while, so he took up painting and painted hundreds of pictures; all for charity. His curiosity for the arts was phenomenal. We had 12 great years working together before he passed away.
That means you worked with him when he made his classic appearance on I Love Lucy!
BM: Yes. I did his arrangement for “Take Me Out to the Ballgame.” But that show is remembered for the mirror sequence. That’s where many people saw it for the first time, but of course it came from Duck Soup (1933). Before that, it came from vaudeville, but the brothers put their stamp on it. What was profound to me was to watch the rehearsals because in Duck Soup it was with Groucho and my dad, and for I Love Lucy, Lucy became Harpo and Harpo had to do Groucho, which he had never done before. They spent a lot of time rehearsing that.
Did you have a favorite among your famous uncles?
BM: They were unique personalities. Not one of them was like the other, except maybe the fact that Chico and Zeppo were gamblers. Chico was a wonderful storyteller and everyone loved being around him, but Chico only cared about Chico. He didn’t reach out to a lot of people. For me, Gummo was the easiest to be with. Except for my dad, he had the least amount of marital problems. Dad at first never wanted to get married because he saw it wasn’t working for Chico, Groucho and Zeppo, but then my mother Susan came along and he fell for her because he thought she was probably more interesting than all the brothers put together.
I became very close to Groucho at the end of his life. I had a remarkably unique relationship with him. I think because he had great respect for my parents he wasn’t going to give me any problems. But he never gave me a compliment; he just wasn’t that kind of guy. But I do remember that near the end of his life when he was on his last legs, USC had a luncheon for him. He was asked to sing. I played piano for him and we decided we would do “Show Me a Rose.” He started in on the song and then suddenly launched into “Omaha, Nebraska,” which wasn’t planned, and then he came out of that into “Father’s Day.” We finished the thing and everybody loved it. They thought it was a medley and gave him a standing ovation. We went back to the table and he came over to me and said, ‘Bill, I couldn’t have done it without you.’ That was the only time he ever gave me any kind of praise or approval.
What about some of your dad’s famous friends? Who made the biggest impression on you?
BM: George Burns is the reason I’m talking to you. George and Gracie came to Hollywood to make movies; they decided to adopt two kids, Ronnie and Sandra. Six months after my mom and dad got married, my mom said, ‘Don’t you think we ought to have a family?’ George talked dad into agreeing to adopt. That’s how I came to be part of the family.
It must have been an emotional experience watching Too Many Kisses for the first time with your score.
BM: I’ve come full circle. My biological mother made a living playing piano in silent movie theaters. Isn’t that something? That’s how she met my biological father. He wanted to be an opera singer and she wound up accompanying him. To be playing piano for a silent film like my mother did, and one that stars my father, is a gift.
