Rating: C+
Dir: Mel Brooks.
Star: Mel Brooks, Marty Feldman, Dom DeLuise, Bernadette Peters.
This is basically the equivalent of a boxer choosing to fight with one hand tied behind his back. The weapon of verbal humour is removed from the arsenal, with Brooks looking to go back to the days of silent comedy. But it’s one thing to make a film without dialogue, because the technology doesn’t exist for sound yet. It’s another to surrender the option voluntarily, as he chooses to do here. While the visual side has always been a significant part of his comedy, so has witty verbal repartee. While I respect the effort to make a movie under a self-imposed limitation, I didn’t find the results as effective as those Brooks made with both hands free.
I also found it a bit self-referential for my tastes. For it unfolds in the world of Hollywood, where director Mel Funn (Brooks) is trying to get his own silent movie made, with the help of sidekicks Marty Eggs (Feldman) and Dom Bell (DeLuise). They get backing from Big Picture Studios, only if they can bring on board some big names. Cue cameos from Burt Reynolds, James Caan, Paul Newman, Liza Minnelli, and Mrs. Brooks, Anne Bancroft. [There’s also a pre-fame Erik Estrada] Plus, most famously, Marcel Marceau: the renowned mime gets the sole spoken word in the movie, responding to Mel’s offer with an emphatic “Non!” But conglomerate Engulf & Devour want to sabotage the production, fearing a successful film could save Big Picture from their takeover bid.
There are certainly jokes here. Some of them are funny. My favourite was the hospital monitor which turned into a Pong game. I had to check whether they existed in 1976: it came out in 1972. That demonstrates one of the problems here. Some of the humour is strictly of its time (Chris had to explain some of the jokes and performers), and another portion refers back to the silent era, a period with which I am largely unfamiliar. I guess it’s plausible that seventies cinema-goers would be more aware of those times? Though in general, I am not a particular fan of pure slapstick. I can take physical comedy as a punchline, e.g. Basil Fawlty thrashing his car with a branch. It just needs careful set-up.
I’m not sure of the need for Feldman and DeLuise either. I’m hard-pushed to say what either bring to the table, specifically. It may simply be that Brooks, starring for the first time, felt in need of experienced comic support. One might have been fine. But having both as companions makes it feel a bit like a dodgy episode of Dr. Who. Though especially lately, that show wouldn’t seek to mine humour from passers-by yelling “Fags!” at accidentally homoerotic situations, as we get here. Hey, it was the seventies. Nobody cared, and the film was a (surprising?) success, grossing almost ten times its budget – though less than half as much as Young Frankenstein. Seems about right.