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Last week Charlie Einfeld set out on the "junket to end junkets." He loaded 250 big stars, small stars and reporters on a "glamor train," toted them off on a four-day trip to Santa Fe, N. Mex. for the world premiere of Santa Fe Trail. Since the train arrived on Friday the 13th. he adopted a hard-luck motif. Invitations were attached to rabbits' feet, read: "The date is Friday, the 13th, and the place is Santa Fe. Here you'll find at the end of the trail the start of a perfect day." At Albuquerque it was planned to have a black cat appear on the train: an over-zealous assistant turned up with four. When the train pulled into Santa Fe a blizzard was in progress. The shivering crowd of 2,000 who met the train couldn't hear a word the stars said, as the sound system went haywire. The altitude speedily knocked out 75-year-old May Robson, who had to be removed to lower surroundings. And Olivia de Havilland, leading lady of the film, doubled up with appendicitis, had to be flown back to Hollywood. It all added up to 150,000 words of copy filed from his press car in 24 hours. Charlie was well satisfied.
Go West (Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer) shows the Marx Brothers bounding like bandersnatches through a Wild West background. The characters who are really native to this scene, make the foolhardy mistake of showing up from time to time, are quickly reduced to mincemeat by the ruthless trio. The Marx lunantics are only faintly marred by a barely perceptible thread of plot, involving young love and a deed to Dead Man's Gulch.
Like W. C. Fields, Groucho, Harpo and Chico Marx are screamingly funny to their admirers, idiotic to others. Groucho's fixed grin, knowing impudence and Chico's leering wop accent tickle many a funny bone, but, as usual, Harpo's mute pursuit of buxom beauties draws more yells than either. For orthodox Marxians it should prove the slap-happiest occasion since A Night at the Opera.
Typical crack: While the brothers are prowling in the villain's office one night, Chico mentions that they can phone the police for help if anyone appears. Turning to the audience, Groucho growls: "What do you mean, 'phone for help?' This is only 1870. Don Ameche hasn't invented the telephone yet."