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Jan. 2, 2006
RUTHERFORD ON FILM: 'The Producers,' High Stepping, Lyric Rich
Politically Incorrect Satire; I Can't Help It: Gene Wilder in 1968 Film was
Better Than Broderick!
By Tony Rutherford
Huntington News Network Writer
Huntington, WV (HNN) ---Guaranteeing fun, laughs and mild
offensiveness to all, Mel Brooks transforms the musical "The Producers" back
to the giant silver screen from where it originated as a comedic satire in
1968 with Zero Mostel and the irreplaceable Gene Wilder as creators in
search of a sure flop.
The original film pummeled more laughter, but the musical resounds with
greater liveliness and "funtastic" song and dance choreography which has
side splitting Brooks one-liners adapted into the lyrics themselves.
Although I have not seen the Tony Award winning show on Broadway, I
overheard more than one audience member sprightly proclaim, "It's just the
same as it is on Broadway with the same actors." In fact, a few in the New
Year's Eve audience actually broke into slow dances as the end credits
rolled.
Actually, adapting the classic comedy to a musical should not be
surprising. Brooks wrote the lyrics to the "Springtime for Hitler and
Germany" selection in the 1968 flick. Now, he's out mocking elder "love,"
openly gay and cross-dressing males, and female "assets."
In brief, a down and out Broadway showman Max Bialystock (Nathan Lane) has
a way of raising cash for productions by nurturing what's left of the sex
drives of little old ladies who write big checks. After his latest one night
flop, an accountant (Matthew Broderick) blares out an intriguing hypothesis
--- you could make a big bag of bucks with an assured flop.
Bats unclog Bialystock's belfry, as he plots that finding the worst script,
with the worst director, and the worst cast would guarantee a dud. They
settle on a conscious revolting show about the good-side of Adolf Elizabeth
Hitler, along with a chorus line of men and women adorned in leather boots
and swastikas.
On the way to lining up "the worst," a Slavic dancer / singer named Ulla
(Uma Thurman) enters the drab messy office, leading both men into "urges to
merge."
The musical relies on song, dance and overacted physical comedy reflecting
a genre that has all but evaporated from Hollywood. Relying on simple stage
effects, rather than computer generated state of the art light fantastic,
Brooks and director Susan ("Center Stage," "Lisa Minnelli Live from Radio
City Music Hall") Stroman, who cut her teeth as a choreography, encompass
broader sets (Central Park singin' and dancin' in the rain fountain, a Rio
hotel, N.Y.C. traffic, etc.) yet maintain an abundance of hoofin' from a
decorated stage.
Personally, despite Broderick's chemistry with Lane, I can't give him
accolades over Gene Wilder --- the original bumbling, meek accountant who
mouthed, "I'm hysterical, I'm wet, I'm in pain." No fault to Broderick's
performance, just that Wilder's curly wild red hair and round, expressive
face brought an instant contradiction to a so-called conservative
accountant. By contrast, Broderick looks conservative and politically
correct, perhaps, so much that its hard to see him dancing on the wild side
despite the early "unhappy" show stopper at the accounting office.
As slapstick, parody, satire and bad taste enliven, Brooks's lyrics provide
lucratively detonated stereotypes, which tend to engender more laughs than
disgust. In fact, two of the best numbers play on words such as in a time
when a 'light, bright and gay farce' meant a happy comedy, not a group of
cross-dressing, effeminate mocking old 'drag queen' scenarios.
In addition, a never ending line of old ladies dancing with their walkers
can not fail to entertain, just as Ulla's athletic kick them long legs high
numbers genuinely depict an attitude that some women are proud of their
bodies and only too willing to use them as a means of getting what they
want, even if that means having a man along for a lifetime.
Another standout scene comes before the opening, when it's time for a
lesson in opening night leg breaking for good luck. It works though the gag
has an obvious outcome.
You do not have to remember the tango or soft shoe to declare "The
Producers" as a fine piece of politically incorrect entertainment.



