They possess a Bacchic, manic edge. Even in the most sedate moments of their films, complete pandemonium and anarchy are lurking in the background, waiting to be unleashed. And when Groucho launches into a monologue of free-associative near-hysteria, or when Harpo steps into a scene with his beautiful one-brain-cell expression, I feel I am witnessing something perfect, like a sonnet. If I had to distill their importance to me into one lesson it would be this: there is great philosophical and spiritual value in being extremely, uncomplicatedly, perfectly silly.