73. The Producers

Mel Brooks, 1968

Well, the new remake of The Producers, based on the broadway play, which was based on the original film, is set to open in a couple of Fridays, and, by all accounts, really isn’t that good. I can’t say I’m overly surprised, but I am a little disappointed. There was a while there where I was really looking forward to this one. After all, the broadway show was supposed to be great and I live in South Bend, so there’s no way in hell I’m gonna get to see it. Yet, after I saw the trailers I was pretty sure that the movie wouldn’t be worth much. Really, the trailers just show a film which is at once a shot for shot copy and a pale imitation of the original, kind of like the Ann Hache version of Psycho. Hell, the trailers don’t even bother to show the songs so we have some idea of what’s been added. Of course, we haven’t really seen a good film out of Mel Brooks in some time. Let’s face it, Robin Hood: Men in Tights is kind of funny, but is clearly written for an entirely different stable of actors then are present. This Robin Hood was written for Gene Wilder and not Cary Elwes (as much as I love you, Cary. P. S. You’re perfect in Shadow of the Vampire), Maid Marion begs to be played by Madeline Kahn, and it’s a crime that Tracy Ullman plays the creepy old witch woman instead of the sublime Chloris Leachman. After Robin Hood, Brooks gave us Dracula: Dead and Loving It. The less said about that the better.

Still, Mel’s career would be an admirable one if he’d done three or four crappy films (we should really through Life Stinks in here) and a handful of good ones, but the truth is that Mel did more than most filmmakers do with their careers. He made a few crappy pictures, a few pretty good ones, and three perfect films. The first of these is, without a doubt, the original The Producers. This was Brooks’ first film and it works beautifully on every level. The direction is subtle, utilizing camera work that is good, but never overwhelms the comedy or performers. The writing is sharp as a tack and the actors themselves are perfect. In fact, they’re so perfect that I cannot imagine any one else in their stead. Sorry Matthew, Nathan, Uma, and Will. Before we look at the performances though, let’s take a look at the writing. The plot is wonderfully original, centering around a pair of producers who engineer a sure fire broadway flop, Springtime for Hilter, in hopes of absconding with the inflated investment dollars. The characters are brilliant and zany, from Max Bialystock, a washed up producer who now eeks out a living seducing old ladies, the often hysterical Leo Bloom (I’m in pain! I’m in pain, and I’m wet!. . . and I’m still hysterical!), the hilarious spacey lead actor chosen to play Hitler Lorenzo St. DuBious (Lorenzo, baby. But my friends call me L.S.D.), Franz Leibkin, the shell shocked Nazi who wrote the play, Ulla, a swedish sex symbol/receptionist, a mincing director (Der Fuhrer does not say, “Achtung, baby.”), and his even more mincing, er, partner. As for the actors: Zero Mostell embodies Bialystock, from his cardboard belt to his comb over hair. Zero practically sweats greed and desperation, mixed with insane self confidence. Gene Wilder looks like he may shake apart at any second and Kenny Mars is the perfect nutty Nazi. Finally, we get an actor who steals every scene he is in, Dick Shawn as LSD. Dick Shawn played a similar role in It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World and he is absolutely perfect. No one plays a spaced out hippie like Dick Shawn and, consequently, no one has or will ever play Hitler the same way again. “One and one is two. Two and two is four. I’m so upset I’m losing the war!”