The Devil's Brother

Synopsis: At Stanlio's urging, Ollio foists himself off as the dread singing bandit Fra Diavolo and unknowingly attempts to rob the notorious brigand himself. As punishment, Diavolo orders Stanlio to hang Ollio, but gives them a second chance when Stanlio bungles the job. Taking them on as his retainers, Diavolo travels to the Tavern de Cucu in his guise as the foppish Marquis de San Marco to rob the rich, aged Lord Rocburg and woo beauteous Lady Pamela. Stanlio drives Ollio and the innkeeper to distraction by playing "earsie kneesie nosie" and "finger wiggle," and gets drunk helping Ollio fill tankards of wine, sending him into an uncontrollable laughing fit. The boys plot to capture Diavolo but wind up with him in front of a firing squad.
Genre: Comedy, Musical
Director(s): Hal Roach, Charley Rogers (co-director)
Production: MGM
90 min

On yonder rock reclining

That fierce and swarthy form behold

Fast his hand his carbine hold

'Tis his best friend of old

This way his steps inclining

His scarlet plume waves o 'er his brow

And his velvet cloak hangs low

Playing in careless flow


E'en while the storm is beating

Afar hear echo repeating

Diavolo, Diavolo, Diavolo!


E'en while the storm is beating

Afar hear echo repeating

Diavolo, Diavolo, Diavolo!

Well, dark eyes,

who's your last lover, huh?

What success, Diavolo?

Great success with the prettiest wench

in all Christendom.

The devil with wenches.

Did you get a goose for us to pick?

"Goose" is the very word.

A skinny old lord

who simply stinks with gold...

...and his pretty wife...

...whose jewels sparkle like

an early frost on a December morning.

- Did you steal them?

- Of course not.

She knew me only

as the Marquis de San Marco...

...and as such, I could only sing her

a song and steal her heart.

And there was I, sitting

in the very same coach with them.

His Lordship,

that was her husband, sitting here...

...Her Ladyship, and what a ladyship,

sitting there.

And here was I, dressed as the marquis,

and what a marquis.

The gondolier

Fond passion 's slave

Will for his love

Each danger brave

Winds and waves

Both disdained

From his fair one's bright eyes

Be a glance but his prize

It is still something

Something gained

It is still

It is still

It is still something gained

It is still

It is still

It is still something gained

Lovely lady, this pearl grows yellow

against the marble of your hand.

Well, yellow or not,

it cost my husband 50,000 francs.


And this medallion cost him 100,000.

One hundred thousand francs.

- What a waste of money.

- Sir?

When even diamonds grow dull

beneath the sparkle of your eyes.

Oh, milord.

But isn't your husband afraid to let his

pretty wife travel with all these jewels?

- Oh, why, this isn't the half of them.

- No?

- Just wait till you see.

- What?

I'll wager this is the richest fruitcake

you've ever seen.

Too rich, milady, too rich.

Why, this road is overrun

with the worst bandits in Italy.

Oh, they'll never find my jewels.

Nor my husband's 500,000 francs.

Francs? Francs?

Who said 500,000 francs?

I was just saying, my love,

that you're far too clever...

...for those nasty, nasty bandits.

I wish I were as clever with popinjays.

And that's how I found milady's jewels.

As a marquis, I uphold tradition.

You hold up the coach.

Tonio, Alessandro, come with me.

I want a word with you.

Drink, for joy bestowing

Around, around, the wine is flowing

Wine's the soldier's shield

In the tented field

Wine's the soldier's shield

In the tented field

Is there anything I can do

to help you, Father, dear?

Yes, there is. Stay away from

that poverty-stricken young soldier...

...or all the plans I have made for you

will be spoiled.

But, Father, I love Lorenzo,

and I'm not afraid of poverty.

But I am.

But, Father, perhaps Lorenzo

and I could save enough...

You'll marry Francesco tomorrow.

- But, Father...

- Not another word.

Glory's path while bravely pursuing

Love and wine his toils repay

Don't weep, dear.

What did your father have to say?

- I've got to marry Francesco.

- You don't have to marry anyone.

- Why don't you just flatly refuse.

- You don't understand.

It isn't that simple.

Father hasn't a lira,

and he's going to lose the inn.

Oh, if I could only capture Diavolo.

But, darling, you've been on his trail

for months, and he always slips away.

Yes, but each time

I've been a little closer.

And one of these days

he'll not slip away.

- Come on.

- Well, he won't go.

Well, don't sit there dreaming.

Do something.

Well, what can I do?

He won't pay any attention to me.

Why don't you give him a couple of:

- I don't want to do that yet.

- Why?

I'm saving it for the hills.

Come on.

"Saving it for the hills."

Just a moment.

- What'd you do with our money?

- I got it in the saddlebag.

You'd better give it to me.

It'll be safer in my hands.

Our life savings.

Wouldn't it be terrible

if we lost this?

After all the years

we have toiled and slaved for it?

Why, we've even gone

without the necessities of life...

...deprived ourselves of food,

actually starved.

But now we have our reward.

We can settle down for life

and live on the fat of the land.

Keep your hands where they are.

Hand it over.

There it goes.

After all we went through to get it.

Oh, well. Come easy, go easy,

that's my motto.

What do you mean,

"come easy, go easy"?

Now we've got to start all over again,

right at the bottom.

Why don't we start at the top?

- What do you mean?

- Well, why don't we become bandits?

Then we wouldn't

have to work hard anymore.

Let's get it the easy way.

We could rob the rich and give them

to the poor, and we could have all...

That's the first time

that you've shown any intelligence.

Well, it's the first time

you've listened to me.

You know, if you'd listen to me once

in a while, you'd be a lot better off.

I guess you're right.

Tell me that plan again.

- All of it?

- Certainly, certainly.

Well, if... If we became rich and...

And we robbed the poor and

we gave them to the bandits...

...and we could start at the top...

...and we'd get to the bottom

without working hard anymore.

We can't go wrong.

It's the law of conversation.

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Jeanie Macpherson

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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