The Sensational Ritz Brothers

A guest post by Anthony Scibelli about Mel Brooks' favorite trio

BY ANTHONY SCIBELLI • Al, Jimmy, and Harry were born the Joachim Brothers, but in the 1920s, they became vaudeville dancers under a new name: the Ritz Brothers. In his book on the team, Roy Liebman claims that at various times they ascribed their stage name to the Ritz Hotel, Ritz Crackers, or a name they spotted on the side of a laundry truck. They soon made the leap to Broadway.

Beginning in 1934, they would star in over a dozen feature films for 20th Century Fox, Universal, and one short subject for Educational Pictures. After their career in film, they continued to perform live for decades, only occasionally appearing on television.

Their act was wild, anarchic, extremely energetic, full of music and dancing. They entered the room with verve and zest, three uncontrollable cyclones tearing through the scene.

A generation of comedians cited Harry Ritz as their inspiration. Sid Caesar, Milton Berle, Jerry Lewis, Soupy Sales, and Danny Kaye all owe them a major debt. Mel Brooks still presides as the most enthusiastic cheerleader of this group, but even he struggles to put their influence into words. When asked by Conan O’Brien to describe their comedy, he launches into a series of elastic faces and wild noises, but of course he does—how else could you convey that legacy?

Watching their films—on DVD, YouTube, and occasionally on streaming services—Harry Ritz’s on-screen presence immediately overpowers his brothers. It may be a little unfair to call their characters identical, but unlike the Marx Brothers, each sibling does not have their own well-defined personality.

The Ritz Brothers, instead, appear a unified whole; three brothers reveling, almost as one.

Unlike Abbott and Costello (“best friends” who are always at each other’s throats) or the Three Stooges (constantly gouging out each other’s eyes) the Ritz Brothers have only toothless, passing squabbles. Harry’s catchphrase in the troupe to his brothers was “Don’t holla”; no biting, no fighting.

As Mel Brooks gushed to Conan, “They were sensational. They danced in unison perfectly.” Not just danced, they moved, spoke, and sang in perfect harmony. They feel less like a comedy team and more like a single comedian tripled. The Ritzes represent the comedy of unity—not to the outside aggravators who step in their path, but within their group. They are as tightly bound and energetically vibrant as an atom.

That unity between the Ritz Brothers apparently extended to their real lives as well. Throughout their career Harry got offers to break off on his own, but refused every time. This would continue even after oldest brother Al’s passing in 1965, with Harry and Jimmy performing together as a team for more than a decade.

Had Harry taken up one of those offers and embarked on a solo career, one can only wonder what might’ve happened next. Would Harry Ritz be remembered as one of the great comedians, like Charlie Chaplin or Buster Keaton?

Comedy can be many things, but it often tends toward the cutting and cynical. The harmonious comedy of the Ritz Brothers, in contrast, feels like a balm. Which isn’t to say that their performances are saccharine or treacly, mawkish or sentimental. But a big part of the fun of watching them is the sense that they are having fun, and having fun together. 

And it seems more likely to me that if Harry had gone out on his own—separating that unity, splitting that atom—something unique would’ve been lost. He would have destroyed the harmony, the precious unity, that made the Ritz Brothers so special.

Anthony Scibelli is a stand-up comedian, writer, and award-winning filmmaker. He is the creator of “Unsung Legends of Comedy,” a documentary web series profiling the lives and careers of comedians, character actors, voice-over artists, and vaudevillians, whose work has since become unknown, little known, or just little talked about. You can find all the videos in that series on his website, anthonyscib.com.