A Day at the Races (1937)

Overview

The Marx Brothers were the reigning kings of cinematic chaos throughout the 1930s, and A Day at the Races represents one of their last great ensemble outings. Following up on their monumental success with A Night at the Opera (1935), the trio once again paired with producer Irving Thalberg and director Sam Wood at MGM, seeking to replicate the blend of musical romance and manic comedy that made their previous film a hit.

Released in 1937, A Day at the Races mixes satire, slapstick, and social farce in a story centred on the rescue of a sanitorium from the clutches of greedy businessmen — with horse racing and impersonated doctors thrown in for good measure. Though sometimes critiqued for its padded runtime and romantic subplots, the film’s comedic set pieces, Marxian verbal and physical anarchy, and memorable scenes remain timeless.

Plot Summary

The plot, as is often the case in Marx Brothers films, is mostly a skeleton upon which to hang comic bits.

Judy Standish (Maureen O’Sullivan) runs a struggling sanitorium. When a wealthy patient threatens to leave and shady developers try to force her to sell, Judy turns to her friend Tony (Chico Marx), a local horse jockey and scam artist, for help. Tony recommends hiring the world-famous Dr. Hugo Z. Hackenbush — who turns out to be none other than Groucho Marx, a veterinarian passing himself off as a medical doctor.

Hackenbush arrives, and chaos ensues.

To save the sanitorium, Tony and his mute sidekick Stuffy (Harpo Marx) buy a racehorse named Hi-Hat, whom only Stuffy can ride successfully. Meanwhile, Hackenbush tries to maintain the façade of medical professionalism while fending off the formidable Mrs. Upjohn (Margaret Dumont) and dodging inquiries from real doctors.

The film culminates in a raucous horse race finale, where Marxist lunacy triumphs over capitalist scheming in glorious fashion.

Key Themes and Comic Strategies

Authority and Imposture

As with most Marx Brothers films, A Day at the Races is gleefully anti-authoritarian. Groucho’s Hackenbush is the ultimate con man — a veterinarian who reads up on “spinal psychology” and dupes a sanitorium board. He lampoons the entire medical profession, reducing diagnosis to absurd routines involving throat mirrors and random questions.

The film’s comedy targets institutions that wield power — medicine, psychiatry, and even the upper class — and exposes their absurdities. Hackenbush's confident nonsense is as effective (or ineffective) as any real doctor, a sly comment on how performance often supersedes competence in authority figures.

Class and Capitalism

The Marx Brothers often present themselves as underdogs — streetwise, anarchic tricksters pitted against stuffy elites. In A Day at the Races, this takes the form of the sanitorium being threatened by unscrupulous investors who want to convert it into a casino.

The horse race climax, with the Marxes defying the betting syndicates and corrupt jockeys, is a populist celebration of chaos triumphing over corporate greed. As in Duck Soup or Animal Crackers, the message is clear: systems are built to be mocked, not obeyed.

Physical and Verbal Comedy

While Groucho delivers his signature barrage of wisecracks and innuendo, Chico and Harpo ground the film in physical gags and elaborate comic set pieces. Their famous "tutsi-fruitsi" ice cream scam — involving coded signals and repeated interruptions — is a brilliant blend of timing, wordplay, and musical rhythm.

Harpo, always the silent clown, steals scenes with balletic slapstick and inspired chaos: playing the harp with childlike beauty one moment, and disrupting a medical board meeting the next by impersonating a puppet doctor.

Notable Comic Set Pieces

The Tutsi-Fruitsi Routine: Perhaps the most memorable sequence, featuring Chico selling Groucho a coded tip on a horse, which becomes a dizzying repetition of "tutsi-fruitsi" references, cash exchanges, and double-crosses.

The Medical Examination: Groucho’s faux-doctor routine, filled with nonsensical terminology and medical equipment used incorrectly, shows Groucho at his surreal best.

The Water Ballet Scene: A send-up of high-class entertainments and musical interludes, with the Marx Brothers interrupting with comic intrusions, culminating in Harpo swimming with a horse.

The Climax at the Race Track: A whirlwind of disguise, sabotage, and slapstick chaos, ending with Harpo riding Hi-Hat to victory in the most unorthodox manner imaginable.

Performances

Groucho Marx as Dr. Hackenbush

Groucho's rapid-fire delivery, arch eyebrows, and endless wisecracks are in full force. His persona here — the fraudulent doctor — fits seamlessly into his long line of pompous charlatans. He’s less romantic than in A Night at the Opera, but far more anarchic.

Lines like “Either this man is dead or my watch has stopped” show off his signature absurdism, and his scenes with Margaret Dumont are as hilariously uncomfortable as ever.

Chico Marx as Tony

Chico reprises his Italian dialect character with charm and impeccable timing. His comic chemistry with Groucho is effortless, especially in their betting scams and double-talk routines.

His musical interlude at the piano, a staple of the Marx Brothers' MGM films, is charming and skilful, blending comedy and virtuosity.

Harpo Marx as Stuffy

Harpo, as always, is a bundle of mischief and surreal energy. From stealing stethoscopes to liberating a horse from a locked stall, he’s a whirlwind of slapstick and heart. His harp solo offers a moment of sweetness amidst the madness.

Supporting Cast

Maureen O’Sullivan brings sincerity and grace to the romantic subplot, offering a calm center amid the Marxian storm.

Allan Jones (returning from A Night at the Opera) provides the required tenor and love interest, though he’s again outshone by the comic leads.

Margaret Dumont, the eternal straight woman, is once more the perfect foil for Groucho’s leers and put-downs. Her unflappable dignity remains one of the best setups in comedy history.

Music and Songs

As with A Night at the Opera, MGM insisted on incorporating musical numbers and romantic interludes. Songs like “On Blue Venetian Waters” and “All God’s Chillun Got Rhythm” are pleasing if a bit padded.

Of note is the controversial yet historically significant “All God’s Chillun Got Rhythm” sequence, featuring a large ensemble of African-American performers in a lively musical number. While the number showcases impressive energy and talent — and offers rare screen time to Black artists of the period — it is framed through the lens of period stereotypes and needs to be viewed in historical context.

Direction and Pacing

Sam Wood returns to direct after A Night at the Opera, again trying to balance zany comedy with romantic and musical subplots. His steady hand ensures that the narrative doesn't collapse under the weight of the Marx Brothers’ comic tangents, though some critics feel the musical and romantic padding slows the pace.

Still, Wood understands how to showcase the Marxes without losing the cohesion of the overall story — no small feat given the anarchy they generate.

Legacy and Influence

A Day at the Races is often considered the last great Marx Brothers film, before the quality of their work began to decline in the 1940s. It showcases the trio at their height within the MGM system, which tamed some of their rougher edges but gave their films higher production value and mainstream appeal.

The film has been preserved in the National Film Registry and continues to be studied as a prime example of slapstick, vaudeville influence, and 1930s satire.

Comedians from Woody Allen to the Coen Brothers have cited the Marx Brothers as inspirations, and A Day at the Races remains essential viewing for understanding their legacy.

A Day at the Races is a wildly funny, expertly timed, and culturally significant comedy — one that balances anarchic humour with surprisingly polished production. While not quite as taut as Duck Soup or as revolutionary as A Night at the Opera, it remains an absolute delight, full of unforgettable routines, whip-smart dialogue, and some of the greatest physical comedy ever put on screen.

It’s a testament to the Marx Brothers’ genius that even when operating within studio constraints, they could still deliver comedic brilliance that holds up nearly 90 years later.