In 1974, Mel Brooks fully embraced the parodic cinema for which he has, for better and worse, become synonymous. The year opened with Blazing Saddles, an operatic ode to Westerns and bad taste, and closed with Young Frankenstein, a slightly more subdued homage to director James Whale’s 1931 version of Frankenstein.
The latter experiment put Brooks and his co-writer, Gene Wilder, on a doomed collision course with another director with a twofer in ’74, Francis Coppola. Attempting to run the writing Oscar table, as Coppola had already done, Brooks found his adapted screenplay for Young Frankenstein in the same category as The Godfather II. There’s no argument that the better screenplay won, but this weekend at New York City’s IFC Center, you can see why Oscar deemed Young Frankenstein a worthy competitor.
As the radio ads proclaimed, Young Frankenstein is “shot in black, white and plywood.” Cinematographer Gerald Hirschfield lights the same props Whale used in 1931. While Brooks and Wilder dismantled and deconstructed the Western in Blazing Saddles, their plans for Mary Shelley’s monster skewed kinder and gentler.
This is a tribute to Universal horror, which itself was not without humor co-existing with its atmosphere. Brooks perfectly captures the look and feel of his target, from the sets to the costumes to the eerie yet beautiful score by John Morris. After all that hard work setting the scene, Brooks throws his actors into it to make fools of themselves.
Gene Wilder plays the titular character, a descendant of Shelley’s Dr. Victor Frankenstein. Attempting to escape his grandfather’s shadow, Frederick Frankenstein purposely mispronounces his name every time someone correctly beckons him. “It’s FRONK-en-STEEN!” he bellows. But, as a cheerleader chant in a nightmare informs him, his fate of repeating Grandpa’s mistakes has already been sealed. “Destiny! Destiny! No escaping that for me!” screams Frederick in his sleep.
Off to Transylvania Frederick goes, called by the belated reading of his grandfather’s will. Frederick is met at the station (“Pardon me, boy, is this the Transylvania Station?“) not by Dracula, but by Igor. He too has problems pronouncing his name. “It’s EYE-gor,” he tells Frederick. Igor’s grandfather used to work for Dr. Victor. Igor is in the family business, “but of course, the rates have gone up.” Like his alter ego, Marty Feldman, Igor has huge eyes that threaten to leave their sockets at any moment. A hunchback, Igor’s hump also has continuity problems. When Frederick points this out, Igor asks “what hump?”
Accompanying Igor at the station is Inga (Teri Garr), a hot-blooded, cleavage infused German fraulein who wishes to serve as Frederick’s lab assistant. This willing hottie’s presence won’t bode well for Elizabeth (Madeline Kahn), Frederick’s frigid fiancée. Liz won’t let Freddie touch her, recoiling at even his distant displays of affection. Frankenstein eventually gets Liz to loosen her chastity belt.
Speaking of the Frankensteins, Frederick finds his grandfather’s lab notes from the debacle Shelley chronicled in her book. This plot development arrives courtesy of some ill-placed candles and Frau Blücher (Cloris Leachman), whose name alone makes horses react as if confronted by that kid from Equus. Entitled “How I Did It,” Dr. Victor’s notes inspire his grandson to find a body large enough to withstand the experiment. Inga notes that, based on Frederick’s proportions, the body “vould have an enormous schwanzstucker. Voof!”
Finding a newly hanged (and presumably hung) 7-foot tall victim (Peter Boyle), Frederick hopes to put his deceased academic mentor’s preserved brain into this body and reanimate it. As God has done so many times, however, an inferior brain gets used in the creation process. Mucho mayhem ensues, with the entire cast turning in memorably hilarious work. Boyle in particular brings menace, sadness and humor to a mostly wordless performance.
Young Frankenstein hits all the major plot points in the 1931 version, bending them in perpendicular fashion: The tragic meeting with the little girl becomes a sight gag. The meeting with the blind man (Gene Hackman, showing a gift for comedy) becomes a sightless gag. The leader of the angry villagers (Kenneth Mars) evokes both Dr. Strangelove and Franz Liebkind. And the music that soothes the savage breast comes from both violin and Irving Berlin. It’s as much fun as discovering the sweet mysteries of life.
During a recent BBC interview with Mel Brooks, an audience member asked him why he wasn’t in Young Frankenstein. “Gene Wilder was serious about his comedy,” Brooks replied, citing that Wilder was afraid Young Frankenstein‘s mood would be thwarted by Brooks’ winks at the audience. “So I stayed out of this one,” Mel said.
This got me thinking. Of the four films Brooks and Wilder made together, they have never explicitly shared a scene. Brooks does voiceover work in The Producers, The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes’ Smarter Brother and Young Frankenstein (listen for him when Wilder throws that dart). Neither of his two characters in Blazing Saddles interacts directly with Wilder’s Waco Kid. Perhaps Brooks’ presence would have made Wilder crack up during takes, so he stayed behind the camera. Whatever the reason, Brooks and Wilder’s monster movie collaboration has kept audiences at Young Frankenstein cracking up for almost 40 years.
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Check it out at midnight this Friday and Saturday at IFC Center. Dr. Fronkensteen describes the experience best: “For what we are about to see next, we must enter quietly into the realm of genius.”
