2,000+ Words for the 2,000 Year Old Man: Mel Brooks Is Saluted by the Academy
In early 1978, a child wandered into a now-razed mall cinema somewhere in the Midwest, ponied up $3.50 at the box office, and discovered that he had arrived early for his intended screening of Mel Brooks' consciousness-altering Hitchcock spoof, High Anxiety. Naturally, the child peeked at the tail end of the previous screening -- and felt a keen sense of spiritual expansion as a subtle crane shot aiming for the actors suddenly smashes, very awkwardly for all concerned, through a window! The child was me, and my perception of cinema was irrevocably altered. I loved every frame of the next screening, and -- catching up to the rest of the world who had caught on with Mel's astounding 1974 double-play of Blazing Saddles and Young Frankenstein -- I became aware of a genius.
That genius -- né Melvin Kaminsky in New York in 1926, world-renowned as Mel Brooks -- received a glorious tribute Friday night at the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences' Samuel Goldwyn Theater, in Los Angeles. The capacity event was open to the public, and yet sustained a cozy family feeling throughout -- partly of course because many luminaries from Mel's world showed up, but also because Mel just attracts good people. (Several fans sitting near me were good-naturedly mouthing along with the cherry-picked selection of retrospective clips -- the loudest guffaw, also from High Anxiety [and at young Barry Levinson's expense]: "That kid gets no tip.")
The evening's host and moderator -- and no slouch at satire himself (see Peter Jackson & Costa Botes' Forgotten Silver) -- was film scholar Leonard Maltin, who offered comment on all of Brooks' films. And before we break free from High Anxiety (my fave; can you tell?), let us chuckle at Mr. Maltin's reflection thereupon: "I once had the temerity to describe [High Anxiety] as 'an uneven film' -- and Mel -- Mr. Brooks -- he replied, 'That's the most even film I ever made!" (Sing it: "Ooh...'xiety!...it's you that I blame!...")
The 2 ½-hour gala event commenced with Brooks' Academy Award-winning 1963 animated short, "The Critic," and closed with the legendary number "Springtime for Hitler" from his slow-to-build but eventually classic 1968 feature debut, The Producers (for which he took home the Oscar for Best Screenplay). Less dubious producer and current Academy President, Sid Ganis, reflected on Brooks' rare achievement of winning Oscars, Emmys, Grammys and Tonys ("His trophy shelves are groaning -- and it's kind of like the way our sides groan when we watch a Mel Brooks film") and noted of his closing term as President, "I see no better way of exiting than being present for the tribute to my friend, Mel Brooks." (Amazingly, they met back in 1964, when Ganis was assigned to go pick up Brooks' lovely then-girlfriend Anne Bancroft -- who was filming The Pumpkin Eater -- and transport her to fulfill her "Mystery Guest" duties on What's My Line.)
Maltin then took the podium (as far across the room as possible from where I brilliantly chose to sit -- please pardon the utter abstractness of my surreptitious photography), and put in a nice grace note with: "Just excuse me...I have to Twitter this: 'Introducing Mel Brooks evening.' -- thank you; I just promised my fans I would do that." He then reflected on his own first brush with Brooks' oeuvre -- onscreen at the Teaneck Theatre, in Teaneck, New Jersey, where "The Critic" was running with the newly-released Dr. Strangelove (he sat through 'em twice). Quoth Maltin: "Nothing, I think, could have prepared any of us for the films to come. Think about how many lines from these movies, and scenes, are absolutely imbedded in your consciousness -- that's really burrowing into the consciousness, not only of the nation, but of the whole world!" (True: I well recall one icy night in Stockholm, twenty-odd years ago. On the tube: Blazing Saddles. Kept us all warm.)
Next to speak was Brooks' casual acquaintance Carl Reiner, who quipped that we had all been rudely talking over their 2000 Year Old Man pre-show entertainment (Hey, I was listening: "public hair"). He remembered George Burns advising them on their little parlor act: "Is there an album on this? Make an album -- or I'll steal it." Not to mention Cary Grant requesting a dozen copies of said album to bring to England, one of which infiltrated Buckingham Palace and reached the Queen herself. "And there it was: The biggest shiksa in the whole world, laughing at this!"
The esteemed Mr. Reiner then called his pal, "super well-read," and explained, "He looks like a rag-picker sometimes -- but he's a highly intellectual, brilliant man." The 87-year-old man then performed his latest act: Walking offstage without falling.
We also heard a letter from Gene Wilder ("Now Mel has become my uncle, mother, brother and father -- and not one of them writes. But I'll always love him.") and a video from Cloris Leachman ("It's the landscape you're in, when you're working with Mel -- the mist of his madness settles on you, too."). This was followed by an in-the-flesh appearance from Richard Benjamin (director of Brooksfilms' My Favorite Year), who extolled the virtues of Mel's "guided missile" producing techniques ("not taught in film school") and Jimmy Durante-like sweet presence ("Mel does not do the mean joke -- instead he does the harder joke: With humanity, kindness, and generosity of spirit.") And Benjamin is still a card: "Just so you know how much I value our friendship," he informed his mentor, "I'm probably the only person in this room who didn't bother you for tickets to The Producers." There he hung an actorly little pause, and then: "I bothered Nathan Lane."
The luminaries arrived en force. Since we just lost a genius from the same fold -- the great Dom DeLuise -- it was a pleasure to see actor-artist Michael DeLuise and his mother Carol Arthur in attendance. And such fun to see the man in action in the seldom-screened The Twelve Chairs. The delightful comedian's zesty appearances in several of Brooks' other films are all priceless -- and to me he's always going to be the first human to appear in a Muppet movie. Blessings to his family, friends and fans.
Brooks' son Maximillian Brooks (author of The Zombie Survival Guide and World War Z) accompanied him. Also present were Rudy "Braces" De Luca (whose fun work from Silent Movie to the underrated gem Life Stinks merits a view), sensational director/choreographer Alan Johnson (without whom "Springtime for Hitler" plus "The Inquisition" from History of the World: Part I simply would not be), veteran producer Stuart Cornfeld (Brooksfilms releases The Elephant Man, The Fly; recent comedies Zoolander, Tropic Thunder), and Cary Elwes (who really is hilarious in Robin Hood: Men in Tights). Rick Moranis didn't show up -- but his clip from Spaceballs had the crowd roaring. Sitting near me, writer-producer-director Larry Karaszewski (Ed Wood) and his lovely wife Emily, right beside Laemmle Cinemas promoter and film aficionado Gregory Gardner. Also spotted was producer-impresario Martin Lewis -- whose company, Springtime, was formed long before The Producers' renaissance and takes its name from the Brooksian canon.
It stung a bit that Madeline Kahn (three words: Funniest. Actress. Ever.) and Harvey Korman were not physically present. And Marty Feldman. Plus, beyond measure, Anne Bancroft -- whose opening, Polish scene with her man Mel in To Be or Not to Be proved especially touching this time around. But still funny. Oh, so funny. We love them.
Before the guest of honor took the stage, a triumvirate of glorious Brooksfilm babes chatted for our pleasure. Reflecting on Young Frankenstein, the lovely Teri Garr brought her familiar charm: "I think about how much I laughed when we made the movie, and how much fun we had -- and I haven't changed a bit!" Of Life Stinks, Lesley Ann Warren recalled the wonderful dance scene her bag-lady shares with Brooks' tycoon-gone-homeless, and how Bancroft was so proud of her husband's fancy footwork she started crying: "To see that between the two of them was really quite astounding." Joining them was Tracey Ullman -- my fond reflections of whom could fill pages (hers was the first taping I ever attended, in 1987; more recently I "directed" her...maneuvering her vehicle out of the dry-cleaners parking lot) -- who brought her one-of-a-kind sparkle: "I'm not a Jew, but I play one on TV!" she announced, adding that Mel, Carl and their comrades "are still the funniest guys in town. They're a cavalcade of sexy seniors."
Following a clip from Dracula: Dead and Loving It (again, underrated: as Maltin put it, "Mel, it must be said, was ahead of the vampire curve"), Mr. Brooks himself took the stage, firing on all cylinders. Here, partake of some of the living legend's verbiage:
On his appearance at the tribute: "It's been a long night. I'm very emotional. What do I get for this? Isn't there a scale?"
On his early comedy career in the Borscht Belt: "Ugh, Jews -- tough. 'Melden! Melden!' -- they never got my name right. 'You stink, but we love you!' Thank you, Mrs. Bloom, I really appreciate that. Have another piece of sponge cake." (It turns out that even his early staples -- "You can't keep Jews in jail, ladies and gentlemen - you know, they eat lox!" -- fell on the uncomprehending ears of non-English-speakers. Built his ambition and verve, though, one would suppose.)
On launching his acting career, via wild friend Sid Caesar and especially actor/Catskills social director Don Appel ("our show-business god"): "Finally he thought I had something, and he sent me away to the mountains, he sent me to the Butler Lodge in Ellenville. And I was just, I don't know, doing rowboats -- I was doing everything, I was a pool tummler. I wanted to be an actor, so there was a part open -- oh, somebody got sick, a guy about fifty-five, and it was the part of a district attorney in a play called Uncle Harry. And Uncle Harry is a serial killer -- nobody knows that; it's kind of a crazy play. And I play the district attorney, and I pour a glass of water. And I'm supposed to say, 'There there, Harry -- just relax and tell us what happened.' So I pour the glass of water, my hands are sweating, the glass is wet, I drop the glass, it breaks, the water goes all over the place on the stage. I didn't know what to do -- it was just hushed silence. So I walked down to the footlights, I take off my wig, my beard, I say, "I'm fourteen and a half, it's my first play, whadaya want!" And I got my first big laugh, and I never stopped being funny after that -- and it all started with Don Appel."
On ranking himself with his peers: "I felt there was a comic in me -- you know, a stand-up comic in the mountains -- but I never felt I could be on a par with Sid Caesar, or Imogene Coca, or Carl Reiner, or the late great Howard Morris. I never thought I could ever-ever be as talented and as good, you know -- I didn't know I could be better." (Following the collective guffaw: "I don't think anybody's ever been better than Sid Caesar.")
On how he scored the directing gig for The Producers: "Joe [producer Joseph E. Levine] laughed, and said, 'Who should direct it?' and I said, 'I should direct it,' and he said, 'But why?' and I said, 'It'll cost you very little. And a writer who has the chutzpah to direct, should direct, because the writer coalesces the vapor -- he's got all the scenes in his mind; he has seen them before! The director is an amateur at trying to figure out what people should be doing! The writer has seen them do it!' And when I said that to him, he said, 'That's right, you're smart. You can direct it.'"
On co-writing Blazing Saddles: "Thank god for Richard Pryor, who allowed us to use the 'n' word. I said, 'Richard, can I?' He said, 'Carte blanche.' I said, 'That's white!'" Following a long laugh: "The engine was racial prejudice, so it was okay -- we were just telling the truth."
On the tribute's close: "Okay, now listen, folks -- I have to pee. We're going to show you 'Springtime for Hitler' but I am going to make my way quietly out, so I can pee, so I can go -- so I really want to take this moment to say this has been a very surprisingly moving, unusual and sensational night for me -- one of my best nights in my life."
Mr. Brooks then issued warm thanks, and I was reminded of my great fortune a couple of years ago, wandering into Santa Monica's wondrous Aero Theatre in the middle of a double-feature of Young Frankenstein (which I've seen too many times) and (yep) High Anxiety (which I can't see enough) -- and lo! There was Mr. Brooks himself at the popcorn counter -- literally a surprise guest (he was driving past and saw the marquee)! Of course this is self-indulgent, but viewing High Anxiety with Mr. Brooks in the room was magical for the boy who viewed it at the mall thirty years prior -- and when I told him it was my fave, he blessed me.
Blessed by Mel Brooks! (I'll strive to deserve that one.)
As Mr. Maltin said of Mr. Brooks, "There are very few who are his equal." Frankly, I'd say there are none. Mel Brooks emerged from a funny old world, and as we all enter a not-so-funny new one, his works are more vital than ever. As Ms. Leachman aptly put it, "There is much that is serious about Mel Brooks. Inside that rapid-fire humor machine is a man with deep emotions, with a great capacity to care, and to love."
That, friends, is what can turn a mere comedian into a genius.
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See Gregory Weinkauf's Profile
It was a night of fond memories and strong feelings, so it's nice to see a bit of that reflected here.
Flash photography is verboten at Academy presentations; thus, respecting that, and not wishing to alarm the White House-level security teams, I just snapped a few iffy consumer-camera shots to bring the essence to the readers. Frankly, I'm glad they're ultra-low-res, as this may prove a happy medium for the circumstances.
Since everybody wears Blazing Saddles like a badge, I wanted to reflect the Academy's choice to showcase more of Brooks' fine work -- some of which has been unfairly denigrated. Check out Life Stinks sometime -- it's funny ("That was STITCHED IN!") and even touching (until its admittedly bizarre climax). And Robin Hood and Dracula, while of course not boasting the glory of Young Frankenstein, feature more chuckles than most comedies today.
See Tallulah Morehead's Profile
Certainly there's nothing more idiosyncratic to an individual than response to comedy, but I had "chuckled" during ROBIN HOOD: MEN IN TIGHTS exactly once, during the Merry Men's musical number. (Mel's best work is often his musical numbers, Certainly Mel's performance of the title song in HIGH ANXIETY is the highlight of that flawed but very-enjoyable movie) As for DRACULA DEAD AND LOVING IT, it is unwatchable. Not one laugh in it for anyone over the age of 5. (and all its MISCASTING!!!) Nothing could get me to sit through it a second time.
Whereas, although I have long-since seen YOUNG FRANKENSTEIN so many times I know it by heart, I still never fail to love it when I pop it into the DVD player. THE PRODUCERS never pales (and I love both versions) THE TWELVE CHAIRS is brilliant.
One forgives Mel's failures because he's a genius, and his best is THE best, and because we love him, but that doesn't mean we should pretend
See Tallulah Morehead's Profile
The rest of my last sentence was supposed to be:
that doesn't mean we should pretend that a dreadful movie is anything less than dreadful.
See Gregory Weinkauf's Profile
Normally I wouldn't respond to this sort of baiting -- particularly from someone with a cartoon face -- however I think it brings up an interesting point about movie people:
They need to chill out a little.
As weird and pretentious as it sounds, I'm a veteran cinema critic. But rather than making it my mission to summon ridiculous absolutes for either print-ads or pans, I tend to see every movie as valuable -- to some degree. There's always something there, or else it wouldn't exist. Even in crap. I could find something valuable in a Michael Bay movie if I really searched hard.
I've laughed several times during Mel Brooks' non-classics (and -- Pauline Kael's misguided review be damned -- High Anxiety is tip-to-tail A Mel Brooks Classic), but I'm not going to argue on matters of opinion. Rather, I can simply say that I sat through ALL of Mel's features last year at a retrospective -- and those who opted to hate and miss his less-popular films were missing some real gems in the rough. ("Schedule"??)
While negative opinions can be exciting, and classics deserve praise, I find that a more flexible approach to appraising any work can reveal wonders unobserved by those given to absolutism. My thumb often wavers happily in the middle, and my tomatoes are usually somewhat edible. I have more fun at the movies this way. Cheers.
Thank you for really sh!tty writing and blurry photographs.
This article does no justice to the comedic genius that is Mel Brooks.
Mel, we all love you. Even your rotten pictures are great. Thankfully there weren't that many of them (rotten ones, I mean). You really deserve the sobriquet of genius. Now if I only knew what a sobriquet is....
"Young Frankenstein" is one of my all-time favorite movies. Perfect casting, transcendent writing and performances.
I can't think of anyone funnier than Mel Brooks. From "Your Show of Shows," to the Seattle production of "Young Frankenstein," he's given me over fifty years of laughter. And what an inspiration his marriage to Anne Bancroft was!
See Tallulah Morehead's Profile
The great thing about Anne, besides her transcendant beauty and her being a magnificent actress and a goddess, was that she found "Funny" sexier than "sexy."
Congratulations, Mel! We love you! And you are amazing!
I can't tell you how many hours I and my friends spent listening to "The 2000 Year Old Man" in college, when we should have been studying. (And none of us would change a thing. It was so worth it.)
Glad you're still here, Mel. And I look to many more years of your wonderful comedy!
How fortunate for you that you were at this event. Many years ago, my parents loved to listen to the LP version of "The 2000-Year-Old Man"--it was one of their favorites. "The Producers", "Blazing Saddles", and "Young Frankenstein" are three of the funniest movies ever made, and I never get tired of seeing them. I'm so glad that members of the supporting troupe of players who are no longer here were honored: Madeleine Kahn, Harvey Korman, Dom DeLuise, and especially Anne Bancroft were among the most talented entertainers ever! Thanks, Mr. Weinkauf!
blazing saddles is the funniest movie i've ever seen.
See Tallulah Morehead's Profile
I wish I'd learned of this evening in advance instead of afterwards. I'd have moved Heaven and Earth to be there, despite Leonard Maltin. (Maltin has "fans"? Not in my house.) Thanks for sharing it with us.
And DRACULA DEAD AND LOVING IT isn't "underrated." It's lousy. Very lousy. Mel has made so many GREAT movies, there's no need to inflate the mediocre ones, or that lousy one. When you've made YOUNG FRANKENSTEIN (my favorite of Mel's pictures, by a country mile), there's no need to pretend that the ones that aren't good (including also SPACEBALLS and HISTORY OF THE WORLD pt.1) are.
Now THE TWELVE CHAIRS, that one is underrated, and seldom seen, but it showed Mel could make a film that wasn't a 90 minute live-action cartoon, it introduced to movies a little nobody named Frank Langella, and I will never forget how I laughed at Dom Deluise crying to God, "Oh, you're SO STRICT!"
Agreed on The Twelve Chairs! Hilarious movie; I often wonder why it's so rarely seen. Frank Langella and Dom Deluise are priceless.
In a way, "The Critic" -- which you can see at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=otPkk1sUFkI -- furnished a prototype for the 2,000 Year Old Man.
As geezerish as he sounds, Brooks was only 37 when he made it.
You are so lucky to have been there! I'll argue that Mel Brooks is probably the funniest human being ever. His body of work supports my point. Even his lesser films (SpaceBalls, Robin Hood:Men In Tights) are hilarious. Blazing Saddles, Young Frankenstein and Silent Movie may be the funniest three movies ever produced in a row!
Mel Brooks is one of the funniest guys of all time.
Thank you Mr. Weinkauf. If you see Mr. Brooks, please give him a laurel, and hardy handshake.
Mel Brooks is to comedy what Einstein is to physics
absolute genius
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