"Never get out of the gotdam boat"
April 2, 2022 12:02 AM Subscribe
Groucho Marx reads at T.S. Eliots funeral. (YT/Audio)
'The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrok.' read by Sir Anthony Hopkins.
'The Hollow Men' read by Marlin Brando
'The Wasteland' read by Sir Alec Guinness.
The Naming of Cats' read by T.S.Eliot.
'The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrok.' read by Sir Anthony Hopkins.
'The Hollow Men' read by Marlin Brando
'The Wasteland' read by Sir Alec Guinness.
The Naming of Cats' read by T.S.Eliot.
Thanks for this clavdivs!
Here be Subtitles :).
Gus - The Theatre Cat
by T. S. Eliot
Gus is the Cat at the Theatre Door.
His name, as I ought to have told you before,
Is really Asparagus. That's such a fuss
To pronounce, that we usually call him just Gus.
His coat's very shabby, he's thin as a rake,
And he suffers from palsy that makes his paw shake.
Yet he was, in his youth, quite the smartest of Cats--
But no longer a terror to mice and to rats.
For he isn't the Cat that he was in his prime;
Though his name was quite famous, he says, in its time.
And whenever he joins his friends at their club
(Which takes place at the back of the neighbouring pub)
He loves to regale them, if someone else pays,
With anecdotes drawn from his palmiest days.
For he once was a Star of the highest degree--
He has acted with Irving, he's acted with Tree.
And he likes to relate his success on the Halls,
Where the Gallery once gave him seven cat-calls.
But his grandest creation, as he loves to tell,
Was Firefrorefiddle, the Fiend of the Fell.
"I have played," so he says, "every possible part,
And I used to know seventy speeches by heart.
I'd extemporize back-chat, I knew how to gag,
And I knew how to let the cat out of the bag.
I knew how to act with my back and my tail;
With an hour of rehearsal, I never could fail.
I'd a voice that would soften the hardest of hearts,
Whether I took the lead, or in character parts.
I have sat by the bedside of poor Little Nell;
When the Curfew was rung, then I swung on the bell.
In the Pantomime season I never fell flat,
And I once understudied Dick Whittington's Cat.
But my grandest creation, as history will tell,
Was Firefrorefiddle, the Fiend of the Fell."
Then, if someone will give him a toothful of gin,
He will tell how he once played a part in East Lynne.
At a Shakespeare performance he once walked on pat,
When some actor suggested the need for a cat.
He once played a Tiger--could do it again--
Which an Indian Colonel purused down a drain.
And he thinks that he still can, much better than most,
Produce blood-curdling noises to bring on the Ghost.
And he once crossed the stage on a telegraph wire,
To rescue a child when a house was on fire.
And he says: "Now then kittens, they do not get trained
As we did in the days when Victoria reigned.
They never get drilled in a regular troupe,
And they think they are smart, just to jump through a hoop."
And he'll say, as he scratches himself with his claws,
"Well, the Theatre's certainly not what it was.
These modern productions are all very well,
But there's nothing to equal, from what I hear tell,
That moment of mystery
When I made history
As Firefrorefiddle, the Fiend of the Fell."
posted by storybored at 7:37 AM on April 2, 2022 [4 favorites]
Here be Subtitles :).
Gus - The Theatre Cat
by T. S. Eliot
Gus is the Cat at the Theatre Door.
His name, as I ought to have told you before,
Is really Asparagus. That's such a fuss
To pronounce, that we usually call him just Gus.
His coat's very shabby, he's thin as a rake,
And he suffers from palsy that makes his paw shake.
Yet he was, in his youth, quite the smartest of Cats--
But no longer a terror to mice and to rats.
For he isn't the Cat that he was in his prime;
Though his name was quite famous, he says, in its time.
And whenever he joins his friends at their club
(Which takes place at the back of the neighbouring pub)
He loves to regale them, if someone else pays,
With anecdotes drawn from his palmiest days.
For he once was a Star of the highest degree--
He has acted with Irving, he's acted with Tree.
And he likes to relate his success on the Halls,
Where the Gallery once gave him seven cat-calls.
But his grandest creation, as he loves to tell,
Was Firefrorefiddle, the Fiend of the Fell.
"I have played," so he says, "every possible part,
And I used to know seventy speeches by heart.
I'd extemporize back-chat, I knew how to gag,
And I knew how to let the cat out of the bag.
I knew how to act with my back and my tail;
With an hour of rehearsal, I never could fail.
I'd a voice that would soften the hardest of hearts,
Whether I took the lead, or in character parts.
I have sat by the bedside of poor Little Nell;
When the Curfew was rung, then I swung on the bell.
In the Pantomime season I never fell flat,
And I once understudied Dick Whittington's Cat.
But my grandest creation, as history will tell,
Was Firefrorefiddle, the Fiend of the Fell."
Then, if someone will give him a toothful of gin,
He will tell how he once played a part in East Lynne.
At a Shakespeare performance he once walked on pat,
When some actor suggested the need for a cat.
He once played a Tiger--could do it again--
Which an Indian Colonel purused down a drain.
And he thinks that he still can, much better than most,
Produce blood-curdling noises to bring on the Ghost.
And he once crossed the stage on a telegraph wire,
To rescue a child when a house was on fire.
And he says: "Now then kittens, they do not get trained
As we did in the days when Victoria reigned.
They never get drilled in a regular troupe,
And they think they are smart, just to jump through a hoop."
And he'll say, as he scratches himself with his claws,
"Well, the Theatre's certainly not what it was.
These modern productions are all very well,
But there's nothing to equal, from what I hear tell,
That moment of mystery
When I made history
As Firefrorefiddle, the Fiend of the Fell."
posted by storybored at 7:37 AM on April 2, 2022 [4 favorites]
"Shape without form, shade without colour, paralyzed force, gesture without motion."
Potential advertising slogan for the metaverse perhaps.
posted by thatwhichfalls at 9:03 AM on April 2, 2022 [3 favorites]
Potential advertising slogan for the metaverse perhaps.
posted by thatwhichfalls at 9:03 AM on April 2, 2022 [3 favorites]
Why, thank you! I try to read The Four Quartets, aloud each April, because it is the cruellest month, I guess. Maybe I can find a good reading of this, and, [[Brando]], lips that would kiss, form prayers to broken stone.
posted by Oyéah at 5:36 PM on April 2, 2022 [1 favorite]
posted by Oyéah at 5:36 PM on April 2, 2022 [1 favorite]
Groucho Marx reading Eliot is fantastic! I was very surprised he'd even be at Eliot's funeral, but I found this New Yorker story about what was evidently quite a passive-aggressive relationship!
posted by goingonit at 7:35 PM on April 2, 2022 [5 favorites]
posted by goingonit at 7:35 PM on April 2, 2022 [5 favorites]
Here's the fan letter that Eliot wrote to Groucho Marx:
Dearest Mr Groucho Marx
I'm sending a request
I'd like a signed picture
You'll know which one is best
My esteemed Mr Marx,
I am your biggest fan,
So please do not disappoint me
That would be completely underhand
With respect, Mr Marx,
Your humour has me on the floor
I'm not that known for laughing
But your comedy I adore
So Julius - that's your real name -
Please make my day, month, year,
By sending me a photograph
And I will give a cheer.
Oh brother of Chicolini
Sibling of silent Harpist
Please use a fountain-pen to sign
(If a pencil, use the sharpest)
To put you next to Paul Valéry
You'll be snuggled up to Yeats
I'd like you as Rufus T. Firefly
Or perhaps on roller-skates
Forgive me this lengthy piece
For several months I have been grappling
So if you don't send me a signed photo
I shall switch my allegiance to Chaplin.
posted by verstegan at 9:50 PM on April 2, 2022 [5 favorites]
Dearest Mr Groucho Marx
I'm sending a request
I'd like a signed picture
You'll know which one is best
My esteemed Mr Marx,
I am your biggest fan,
So please do not disappoint me
That would be completely underhand
With respect, Mr Marx,
Your humour has me on the floor
I'm not that known for laughing
But your comedy I adore
So Julius - that's your real name -
Please make my day, month, year,
By sending me a photograph
And I will give a cheer.
Oh brother of Chicolini
Sibling of silent Harpist
Please use a fountain-pen to sign
(If a pencil, use the sharpest)
To put you next to Paul Valéry
You'll be snuggled up to Yeats
I'd like you as Rufus T. Firefly
Or perhaps on roller-skates
Forgive me this lengthy piece
For several months I have been grappling
So if you don't send me a signed photo
I shall switch my allegiance to Chaplin.
posted by verstegan at 9:50 PM on April 2, 2022 [5 favorites]
Strangely watching this episode of Firing Line from 1967 with Groucho and he's suddenly discussing being at Eliot's funeral. Others might enjoy seeing it, too.
posted by hippybear at 9:33 AM on April 3, 2022 [4 favorites]
posted by hippybear at 9:33 AM on April 3, 2022 [4 favorites]
Eliot himself must have been a bundle of laughs at funerals.
O dark dark dark. They all go into the dark,
The vacant interstellar spaces, the vacant into the vacant
posted by thatwhichfalls at 6:27 PM on April 4, 2022 [1 favorite]
O dark dark dark. They all go into the dark,
The vacant interstellar spaces, the vacant into the vacant
posted by thatwhichfalls at 6:27 PM on April 4, 2022 [1 favorite]
« Older "Even if you break the vases on the shelf, it's... | April Cools' Club Newer »
This thread has been archived and is closed to new comments
posted by BlunderingArtist at 5:54 AM on April 2, 2022 [4 favorites]