One of the extras features the reading of a piece by comic genius Peter Sellers saying that The Producers is one of the funniest movies of all-time. Who am I to disagree?
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Count me among those who can't fathom why Mel Brooks decided to remake his first film—which also happens to be one of his all-time funniest. Nathan Lane and Matthew Broderick may have gotten rave reviews for the Broadway production of "The Producers," but I can only guess that what tempted Brooks most was the prospect of adapting a play that expanded on his original film by adding a chorus line full of toe-tapping new songs.
Still, how can you possibly top those original comic tour-de-force performances by Zero Mostel, Gene Wilder, Dick Shawn, and Kenneth Mars? It was pure insanity they uncorked on unsuspecting audiences. And unlike contemporary comedies that aim for the manic and settle for silliness, this was inspired insanity.
If you know the film, you know what I'm talking about. If you're new to it, let me just say that in terms of outrageous comedy, the 1968 version of "The Producers" is second only to Brooks' "Blazing Saddles." But while the gags fly faster than hot lead in the latter, with "The Producers" it's Robin Williams-style flights of character that energize almost every frame. Watching them trip out right before your very eyes, you believed that they were insanely sincere . . . or sincerely insane.
SPRING-time, FOR HIT-ler, in GerMAny . . .
The rotund Mostel turns in the performance of his career as Broadway producer Max Bialystock, who raises money for his plays by pleasuring little old ladies who come to his office for fun and games in exchange for a "checkie" made out to "cash." Then again, Wilder does such a fantastic job as the mild-mannered accountant who stumbles onto the idea that a producer could make more money from a flop than a success that it earned him a place in Brooks' "Young Frankenstein" and "Blazing Saddles." He's the perfect milquetoast yin to Mostel's bombast yang, and as the pair bonds and conspires to pick the worst script, then hire the worst director and cast the worst actors in order to guarantee a one-night theatrical stand, you get so caught up in their antics that you begin to believe it's all true.
Which it is, sort of. Brooks reveals in a making-of feature that Bialystock was based on a real-life producer he worked for when he was 16 years old. This fellow had investors "all over 80, and he'd make love to them and they'd make out a check for the title of his latest play, which was cash," Brooks says.
In his audit, Leo Blum (Wilder) discovers that Bialystock raised $2000 more than he spent on his last play, and Bialystock tells him to just hide it. That's when the lightbulb goes off, and Blum tells him that if he sells more shares of the play than it can possibly pay off, then the play is a flop and no investor expects a return, they could produce a play for one night and pocket a hefty chunk of over-financed change. And pretty much nothing guarantees a flop better than a play called "Springtime for Hitler" which glorifies the leader of the Third Reich. Only Brooks would have the audacity to have the playwright wear a German WWII helmet everywhere he goes . . . though it's an image that will resurface in later films. Mars delivers an out-of-this-world performance as Franz Liebkind, while the worst director on Broadway, a cross-dresser named Roger De Bris (Christopher Hewett) with a flaming assistant named after a car (Andreas Vousinas as Carmen Ghia) guarantee that der story of der Fuehrer will be memorable, to say the least.
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[release]17107[/release]