Blazing Saddles / High Anxiety / History of the World: Part I / Robin Hood: Men in Tights / Silent Movie / Spaceballs / To Be or Not to Be / Twelve Chairs / Young Frankenstein20th Century Fox | 1970-1993 | 9 Movies | 969 min | Rated G, PG, PG-13, R | Dec 15, 2009
The Mel Brooks Collection Blu-ray delivers great video and audio in this exceptional Blu-ray release
Blazing Saddles:
Filmmaker, star and paddleball wiz Mel Brooks goes way out west and way out of his mind with a hilarious spoof set in an 1874 Old West where 1974 Hollywood is one soundstage away – and where good-old fun blast prejudices to the high comedy heavens. Cleavon Little, Gene Wilder, Slim Pickens, Harvey Korman, Madeline Kahn and more join for horseplay and horselaughs, making Blazing Saddles the #6 choice on the American Film Institute’s Top-100
Comedies.
High Anxiety:
In this outrageous homage to the Hitchcock thriller, Mel Brooks plays renowned Harvard
psychiatrist Dr. Richard Thorndyke, a nut-job with a paralyzing fear of heights, who’s just
become head of the Psycho-Neurotic Institute for the Very Very Nervous. After the jittery
doc learns that his predecessor died under suspicious circumstances, he looks for help from
his resentful associate (Harvey Korman) and his evil head nurse (Cloris Leachman) – who,
not surprisingly, offer no help. To make matters worse, events take a murderous turn, and
Thorndyke is accused of the crime. Co-starring Madeline Kahn, High Anxiety is considered
one of Brooks’ best.
History Of The World Part I:
Mel Brooks gives new meaning to the term “revisionist history” with this laugh-filled version
of the story of mankind. This far-from-accurate romp teaches the “real” truth behind the
Roman Empire (in which Brooks plays a stand-up philosopher at Caesar’s Palace), the French
Revolution (where he pops up as King Louis XVI), and the Spanish Inquisition (in which
monks and nuns participate in a splashy song-and-dance number). Featuring an all-star cast
including Brooks, Dom DeLuise, Madeline Kahn, Gregory Hines and Sid Caesar, History of
the World: Part I proves that nothing, including history, is sacred.
Robin Hood: Men In Tights:
The master of comedy, Mel Brooks, pulls off another serious spoof on a classic with Robin
Hood: Men in Tights. The all-star cast includes: Cary Elwes as the head of the merry men,
Roger Rees as the evil dyslexic Sheriff of “Rottingham,” Richard Lewis as the seriously
neurotic Prince John, Amy Yasbeck as the put-upon Maid Marian, Patrick Stewart as ultrrrra-
Scottish King Richard, Tracey Ullman as a much-sought-after soothsayer named Latrine and
Dave Chappelle and Isaac Hayes as hilarious characters named Achchoo and Asneeze.
Silent Movie:
Only Mel Brooks would tell his laugh-packed tale about a silent movie—as a silent movie—
with one word of dialogue. Joining him in his outrageous, nonstop parade of sight gags are
Marty Feldman, Dom Deluise, Sid Caesar, Harold Gould, Bernadette Peters and Ron Carey.
As the ruthless conglomerate Engulf and Devour targets a floundering movie studio, has-
been director Mel Funn (Brooks) convinces the paranoid studio chief (Caesar) to make a
star-studded silent picture. Aided by his sidekicks (DeLuise and Feldman), the devious Funn
actually manages to sign some of the biggest names in Hollywood: Paul Newman, Liza
Minelli, Burt Reynolds, Anne Bancroft and James Caan. Filled with hilarious spoofs of just
about everything that happens in tinseltown, Silent Movie is one of Brooks’ funniest, most
original films.
Spaceballs:
The farce is with you in this “uproarious salute to science fiction” (The Hollywood Reporter)
that teams comedy legend Mel Brooks with an all-star cast of cutups including John Candy,
Rick Moranis and Bill Pullman. When the evil Dark Helmet (Moranis) attempts to steal all
the air from planet Druidia, a determined Druish Princess (Daphne Zuniga), a clueless rogue
(Pullman) and a half-man/half-dog creature who’s his own best friend (Candy) set out to
stop him! But with the forces of darkness closing in on them at ludicrous speed, they’ll need
the help of a wise imp named Yogurt (Brooks) and the mystical power of “The Schwatrz” to
bring peace – and merchandising rights – to the entire galaxy!
To Be Or Not To Be:
Mel Brooks lets the Nazis have it with both barrels in this hilarious remake of Ernst
Lubitsch’s classic comedy. Brooks stars as Frederick Bronski, the great Polish actor an
amazing amount of people have never heard of. Anne Bancroft co-stars as his actress wife,
with whom he fights an eternal tug-of-war for center stage. He should only know about her
backstage meetings with a handsome fighter pilot...But all that is put aside when the Nazis
invade Poland and the entire troupe gets involved in a frenzy of murder, mistaken identities
and maniacal improvising to thwart the Gestapo and save the Polish underground. Co-
starring Charles Durning as the SS colonel who stands in their way, To Be Or Not To Be will
have you on your feet, yelling encore!
The Twelve Chairs:
Set in Russia in 1927, this much-loved, hilarious Mel Brooks comedy classic is the tale of a
former aristocrat (Ron Moody) who is now a Russian clerk under the new Soviet regime.
When he learns that his dying mother-in-law sewed a fortune of family jewels into one of
the twelve dining room chairs, he sets off across Russia to find it—with an opportunist
(Frank Langella), a priest (Dom DeLuise) and his former servant (Mel Brooks) all in equal
pursuit.
Young Frankenstein:
Mel Brooks’ hilarious tribute to Mary Shelley’s classic makes fun of not just the legend, but
also every other Frankenstein movie! Summoned by his late grandfather’s will to a castle in
Transylvania, young Dr. Frankenstein (Gene Wilder) discovers a step-by-step manual on
how to bring a corpse to life. With help from Igor (Marty Feldman), the hunchback who gets
upset when people mispronounce his name, and sweet, curvaceous Inga (Teri Garr),
Frankenstein makes a creature (Peter Boyle) with a monstrous lust for life – and love! Cloris
Leachman, Madeline Kahn, Kenneth Mars and Gene Hackman co-star in this inspired vision
of lunacy.
For more about The Mel Brooks Collection and the The Mel Brooks Collection Blu-ray release, see the The Mel Brooks Collection Blu-ray Review published by Casey Broadwater on December 15, 2009 where this Blu-ray release scored 4.5 out of 5.
Mention him in casual conversation and you'll likely find yourself playing a verbal ping-pong
game
of movie quotes, serving up volley after volley of zingy one-liners, ba-dum-ching-
worthy
puns, and absurdist curveballs that could only come from America's long-reigning king of
comedy,
the patriarch of parody, the sultan of satire: Mel Brooks. Over his fifty-year career, Brooks
has
built a reputation for spoofing Hollywood conventions and, in his best work, using
notoriously
lowbrow comedy to point out some high truths about human nature. Along the way he's
garnered heaps of praise and joined an elite echelon of showbiz superstars who have won
an
Emmy, an Oscar, a Grammy, and a Tony. And just last week he was awarded a lifetime
achievement award at the Kennedy Center Honors. It's a fitting time, then, for 20th Century
Fox
to release The Mel Brooks Collection on Blu-ray. And really, this is quite a collection.
Joining Blazing Saddles, Young Frankenstein, and Spaceballs, which
have already made it into the Blu-ray library—and are included here with identical discs to
their
individual releases—the set also features the Blu-ray debuts of six other Mel Brooks classics:
The Twelve Chairs, Silent Movie, High Anxiety, History of the World
Part I, To Be or Not To Be, and Robin Hood: Men in Tights. I have a feeling
this review will exhaust my thesaurus' supply of synonyms for hilarious.
Ron Moody and Dom DeLuise in The Twelve Chairs
The Twelve Chairs (6/10)
"Hope for the best, expect the worst!"
After the smashing success of The Producers—which is sadly not included in this
collection, for rights reasons, presumably—Mel Brooks' sophomore effort was The Twelve
Chairs, based on a Russian novel about three men trekking all across the countryside
trying
to find a trove of jewels hidden inside a dining room chair. Wedged between the
monumental
comedic masterpieces of The Producers and Blazing Saddles, The Twelve
Chairs has become somewhat of a lost gem itself. The plot is almost distractingly simple,
and
the film is neither as uproariously funny nor as slyly subversive as Brooks' later efforts, but
there's still a lot to love here, and The Twelve Chairs certainly serves as a precursor
to
the zany, madcap comedy to come. It's also the first time that Brooks put himself in front of
the
camera—he plays a drunk janitor, seemingly in love with his former master—a tradition that
would continue throughout his career in extended cameos that are often the funniest bits of
his
films.
The story begins with a surprisingly dour prologue. Former Russian aristocrat Ippolit
Matveevich
Vorobyaninov (Ron Moody), now a sullen and insolvent bureaucrat in the newly established
Soviet Union, is summoned to the deathbed of his dead wife's mother, who confides that
she hid
the family jewels in the cushion of one of the chairs in a 12-piece dining set at the palatial
estate
they occupied before the revolution. The comedy doesn't begin until Ippolit accidentally puts
a
"cancelled" notice on his now-deceased mother-in-law's cheek with the rubber stamp he's
been
carrying around. Inflamed with greed, Ippolit sets off for his former house, unaware that
Father
Fyodor (Dom DeLuise), the Russian Orthodox priest who heard the old woman's final
confession,
has gone apostate and is also questing for the jewels. Through a series of hoodwinks,
dashing
con-artist Ostap Bender (a young Frank Langella) teams up with Ippolit—he threatens to
notify
the police if Ippolit doesn't cut him in on the action—and the two hunt down records of the
chairs
at the Bureau of Housing. Unfortunately, the chairs have been dispersed throughout the
motherland, which requires the unlikely duo to criss-cross the country in order to find them
all.
Meanwhile, Ostap sends Father Fyodor on a wild goose chase in Siberia, though the
pugnacious
priest is always quick to catch up. When the final chair is tracked down, in the lavishly
appointed
Moscow Railway Workers' Communal House of Recreation, our materialistic protagonists
learn the
hard way that life is in the living, not the having.
Compared to the out-and-out insanity of Blazing Saddles and most of Brooks' other
films
to follow, The Twelve Chairs is almost incongruously subtle. There are the expected
dashes of wackiness, including several sped-up chase scenes and nearly every instance
where the
deliriously funny Dom DeLuise is onscreen, but the pairing of Ron Moody and Frank Lengella
is
fairly tame. Langella has always reminded me here of a much less psychotic version of
Malcolm
McDowell in A Clockwork Orange; he's got a kind of self-assured swagger and a
method
of line delivery that veers toward sarcastic, even when he's not. Moody doesn't have much
to do
but look fiercely greedy. And really, greed is the only thing driving the plot, aside from a few
jabs
at overwrought Soviet bureaucracy. However, when the film is funny, it's very funny. Dom
DeLuise throws himself into this role with gut-busting physicality, once snagging his crotch
on a
picket fence and later flailing uncontrollably across the room as he tries to convince a
Siberian
couple to give him their dining chairs. And though his screen time amounts to only about 10
minutes, Mel Brooks is perfect as Ippolit's former janitor, professing his love for his one-time
master every time Ippolit smacks him across the face. Though it's not as well known as
Blazing Saddles, Young Frankenstein, or even High Anxiety, The
Twelve Chairs certainly has its fans, who value the film for being noticeably less vulgar
and
potentially offensive than some of Brooks' later films.
Blazing Saddles (10/10)
"What's a dazzling young urbanite like you doing in a rustic setting like this?"
I was about twelve the first time I caught a highly content-edited version of Blazing
Saddles
on television. A lot of the jokes obviously went whizzing through the then-blank space
between
my
ears, but I remember laughing uproariously at Mongo sucker-punching the horse, the
infamous
campfire fart scene, and at the general Looney Toons level of insanity on display—complete
with
quicksand, fast-forward fight scenes, and an Acme-inspired exploding candy-gram. It wasn't
until
I
was quite a bit older that I caught on to the film's subversive elements, the way it toys with
staples
of the Western genre, goes hog-wild in its unhinging of stereotypes and, as Gene Wilder
puts it,
"smashes racism in the face." On the surface, Blazing Saddles is many things—
scatological,
puerile, and just plain ridiculous—but it also knows precisely where it stands, and behind
every
slapstick moment there's a gleam of teeth and a not-so-subtle wink. This was a bold film in
1974,
for many reasons, and in a few crucial ways it seems even more shocking today.
If you've never seen Blazing Saddles (are there any of you out there?), the year is
1874,
or 1974 in 1874, as Mel Brooks describes it, and an expanding railroad operation has
run
into
quicksand. State Procurer Hedy, I mean, Hedley Lamarr (Harvey Korman) hatches a scheme
to
divert the railway through the podunk town of Rock Ridge, an inbred burg where
everybody's last
name is Johnson. Intending to scare off the townsfolk so he can buy up their land on the
cheap,
he convinces cross-eyed, doofus Governor William J. LePetomane (Mel Brooks) to hire the
country's first black sheriff to police the town. Black Bart (a suave Cleavon Little) rides into
Rock
Ridge on a horse with Gucci saddlebags and, despite a heavy dose of race hate from its
citizens,
sets up shop in the town's sheriff office. Nearly comatose in the drunk tank is Jim (Gene
Wilder),
the one-time "Waco Kid," a former gunslinger who lost his steady hand in a bout with the
bottle.
When Hedley assembles a rag tag crew of "rustlers, cutthroats, murderers, bounty hunters,
desperadoes, mugs, pugs, thugs, nitwits, half-wits, dimwits, vipers, snipers, con men, Indian
agents, Mexican bandits, muggers, buggerers, bushwhackers, hornswagglers, horse
thieves, bull
dykes, train robbers, bank robbers, ass kickers, shit kickers and Methodists" to scare off the
moronic townspeople, Bart and Jim devise a plan to save Rock Ridge. The film's climactic
battle
bursts quite literally through the fourth wall, and the two amigos obliterate one final cliché
as
they ride off into the sunset.
None of this is important, and the skeletal plot only serves as a frame on which to hang the
film's
shaggy coat of comedy. Re-watching Blazing Saddles, I laughed more and harder
than
during just about all of the studio comedies I've seen in the past few years. While the
farting
scene wasn't nearly as funny as when I was twelve, keep in mind that Blazing
Saddles
was the first major movie to feature outright flatulence. It's easy to take that for granted in
an
age when gross-out humor is the norm. The performances—across the board—are zany,
madcap
takes on characters we've all seen before. Harvey Korman's Hedley is so devilish and
conspiratorial you can practically envision him twirling a greasy mustache as a damsel lies
tied
before him to the tracks. Madeline Khan (in an Oscar-nominated performance) slumps across
the
screen as Lili Von Schtüp, the tired, Teutonic Titwillow, a sly parody of a de-sexed and
disinterested Marlene Deitrich. And embodying every cowboy cliché imaginable, Slim Pickens
and
Burton Gilliam wrap their mouths around some seriously hate-filled dialogue with hammy, in-
the-
know showmanship. Blazing Saddles holds back very little, and some of the film's racially insensitive
language
may cause modern viewers to cringe. We're simply not used to hearing derogatory titles
thrown
about so carelessly, even in jest. The rightfully dreaded "N" word makes no less than 17
appearances in the film, and I can think of no contemporary productions that could get away
with
this, with the telling exception of The Dave Chappelle Show. As most of you
remember,
Dave Chappelle abruptly abandoned his massively successful sketch program after coming
to the
realization that some people were laughing at his racially charged skits for all the wrong
reasons.
Subversive comedy walks a fine line, and Blazing Saddles is no different. We're
clearly
meant to view the film's townsfolk as intolerant bigots and buffoons, but there will always
be a
minority of viewers who simply can't or won't understand how the film attempts to undercut
racism.
In some ways, Blazing Saddles seems like a precursor to the many multi-racial buddy
movies we've seen in the years since—from Dawn of the Dead and Lethal
Weapon, to Rush Hour and Harold and Kumar. Cleavon Little and Gene
Wilder are my favorite pairing, though, mostly because their partnership seems grounded in
genuine affection and understanding. Both actors deliver timeless, inimitable performances
in
what, to this day, is a timeless and inimitable film. There may be many comedies, but there's
only one Blazing Saddles.
Young Frankenstein (10/10)
"Destiny! Destiny! No escaping that for me!"
In one of the greatest one-two punches in the history of comedy, Mel Brooks followed up
Blazing Saddles with the wildly different but equally hilarious Young
Frankenstein, an affectionate ribbing of the Universal Frankenstein films of the
'30s
and '40s. The premise of the film—Dr. Frankenstein's grandson is a reputable scientist who
falls
into the same trap of maniacal medical tinkering—was suggested to Brooks by Gene Wilder,
and
together, the two cranked out a screenplay that was both an homage and a parody, filled
with
the same sort of punning, sometimes nonsensical, and endlessly quotable humor that made
Blazing Saddles such an instant audience hit. Yet, Young Frankenstein shows
Brooks maturing as filmmaker—if mature is the right word for a director who routinely makes
raspberry fart noises during casual conversation. With the western to end all westerns
under his
belt, Brooks' take on the classic horror genre feels studied and self-assured, less Looney
Toons
and more Groucho Marx. It's also visually masterful, replicating the look of 1930s horror
down to
authentic props created by Ken Strickfaden, who engineered the Tesla-influenced laboratory
in
1931's Frankenstein.
Along with co-writing the film, Gene Wilder stars as Dr. Frederick Frankenstein ("It's
pronounced
Fronkensteen."), a brilliant neurologist who wants to escape the legacy of lunacy left
by
his grandfather Victor, the infamous grave-robbing mad scientist. When he inherits the
family
estate, Frankenstein travels to Transylvania to check out his new castle, where he meets
Marty
Feldman as Igor ("It's pronounced Eye-gore."), buxom blond lab assistant Inga (Teri
Garr), and housemaid Frau Blücher (Cloris Leachman), whose very name sends horses
whinnying
uncontrollably. What follows is a clever mishmash of plot points from the first four
Frankenstein films. After the sound of a mysterious violin leads him to a secret
library,
Frankenstein finds his grandfather's book—entitled How I Did It—which holds the
secret
to reanimating the dead. Unable to resist the temptation, Frankenstein digs up a fresh
corpse,
sends Igor to fetch a brain (naturally, he grabs the one labeled "abnormal"), and brings the
monster (Peter Boyle) to life. Of course, the monster escapes and wanders about, having
comical
interactions with a little girl and, later, Gene Hackman in a brilliant cameo as a blind hermit.
When Frankenstein finally captures the monster and presents him to the suspicious public, a
mob
is formed, but not before we get the now-iconic scene of Gene Wilder and Peter Boyle doing
a
harebrained soft-shoe routine to "Puttin' on the Ritz."
Young Frankenstein is something of a comedic perfect storm, where every element of
the production comes together to create a whole that's unstoppably funny. And it all starts
with
the attention to genre detail—the convincing sets, the harsh lighting, and the creaky score
by
John Morris that's filled with mournful gypsy violin. The jokes are that much more effective
simply because Brooks creates a believable world. If it weren't for the non-stop gags, you
could
totally buy Young Frankenstein as another entry in the Universal classic horror
canon.
While the comedy here may not be as subversive as that in Blazing Saddles, it's just
as
potent. There's just so much memorable material here that it's nearly impossible to pick one
gag
out to discuss. Much of the humor is both verbal and physical, as when Igor meets
Frankenstein
at the train station and tells him to "walk this way." While we initially assume Igor means,
"walk
in this direction," it quickly becomes clear that he's actually commanding Frankenstein to
"walk
like this" and imitate his hunched, lopsided gait. Bawdy, mildly risqué humor runs
rampant, with double entendres that may take a second or so to sink in. And the
performances
are unparalleled. Madeline Kahn shows up as Frankenstein's fiancé and basically sings an
aria
when she's seduced by the 7-foot-tall monster and his proportional, um, member. Gene
Hackman is great, even if he is nearly unrecognizable as the bearded hermit. Surrounding
characters like Kenneth Mars' wooden-armed Inspector Kemp are memorable and bizarre.
But it's
the comedic trio of Gene Wilder, Marty Feldman, and Peter Boyle—all in top form here—that
cement Young Frankenstein as an enduring classic, so much so, that in 2003 the
Library
of Congress deemed the film "culturally, historically, or aesthetically" important enough for
induction.
Silent Movie (7/10)
"Gee boss, I don't know if a studio will go for a silent film in this day and age."
Who else but Mel Brooks would conspire to make a movie about the making of a silent movie
—
with a plot that mirrors his own efforts to get Silent Movie greenlit—as a
silent
movie? If it sounds like a deliriously postmodern meta-film, a reflection on the business of
moviemaking and the intersection between art and moneymaking, it is. But that's only the
half
of it. Silent Movie is also a genuine tribute to slapstick, a fond spoof of the visual,
highly
athletic "gags" that were dreamed up—seemingly effortlessly—by Charlie Chaplin and Buster
Keaton in the early days of comedic cinema. The influence of these two silent masterminds is
easily evident throughout Brooks' output, from the sped-up chase scenes of The Twelve
Chairs to the ribald sight gags of Robin Hood: Men in Tights. So it makes sense
that,
at some point in his career, Brooks would indulge himself by tossing verbal humor out the
window and pratfalling back on purely physical comedy. Silent Movie does just that,
dispensing with the dialogue—except for a single uttered word—and giving us a nearly
nonstop
hit parade of sight gags old and new, some borrowed from the masters, and some so
ridiculously
over-the-top that they could only have come from the skewed mind of Mel Brooks.
As you can probably imagine, 20th Century Fox wasn't exactly thrilled when Brooks pitched
them
the idea for Silent Movie. The studio bosses were persuaded to finance the
somewhat
risky project—no one had made a silent film in some 40 years—only after Mel wrangled
up some Hollywood star power to make high-profile cameos. And essentially, this is also the
plot
of the incredibly self-referential film.
In his first lead role, Mel Brooks plays Mel Funn, a down-and-out director whose career
tanked
after one too many rounds with the bottle. With his eye on a comeback, Funn goes to Big
Picture
Studios ("If it's a big picture, we made it.") to pitch his idea for a modern day silent film to
the
Chief (Brooks' former mentor Sid Caesar). Big Picture is in big financial trouble—massive
conglomerate Engulf and Devour is attempting to buy them out—and the Chief agrees to
back
the film only if Funn can drum up some A-list names for the marquee. With the help of his
"associates" Egg (the bug-eyed Marty Feldman) and Bell (Dom DeLuise)—it's never exactly
clear
what they do—Funn, dressed in a captain's uniform for some reason, tracks down one star
after
another to persuade them to come aboard. Naturally, the three partners make this simple
task
much more difficult than it needs to be, and all manner of hi-jinks follows. Complicating
matters
are the nefarious, money-worshiping leaders of Engulf and Devour (Harold Gould and Ron
Carey),
who send delicious sexpot Vilma Kaplan (Bernadette Peters) to tempt Funn into abandoning
the
film.
If you're under the age of, say, 80, and you're not a film buff or fan of comedy from the
1910s
and 20s, you might be understandably wary of silent films or simply unwilling to give them a
chance. Maybe they'll be boring, you think, or just slow. Now, I'm no doctor, but if that's the
case, rent Buster Keaton's The General, take two pills, and call me in the morning if
you're not feeling better about silent movies. That said, an appreciation for Keaton,
Chaplain, or
the sadly maligned Fatty Arbuckle isn't necessary to enjoy Silent Movie. In fact, I can
see
Mel Brooks' film as a kind of gateway drug into the world of silent cinema. Like the best of
Keaton's films, the pace of Silent Movie rarely slags—only giving us some post-laugh
breathing room—and the madcap gags are unrelentingly chaotic. Some of the jokes are
duds, but
that's expected when you're dropping them faster than a squadron of B-29s unloosing
bombs
over mid-war Germany. Considering the high frequency, most of the gags are right on
target.
There's some seriously funny stuff here. Funn, Egg, and Bell sneak in on Burt Reynolds while
he's
showering, running their hands all over his soapy, hairy chest. The trio use a broken vending
machine to shoot cans of Coke like mortar rounds at their pursuers. Eggs and Bell play Pong
using the hospitalized Chief's oscilloscope heart monitor. There's an epic motorized
wheelchair
race with Paul Newman. I could go on and on. There are cameos by Liza Minnelli, James
Caan,
and Anne Bancroft as well, but the best bit comes from French mime Marcel Marceau, who
has
the film's only line of dialogue. Leave it to Mel Brooks to let a mime do the talking.
High Anxiety (7/10)
The Master of Comedy vs. The Master of Suspense
While Mel Brooks had, by this point, made a career out of slaying cows both sacred and
profane—
taking on the Third Reich, communism, racism, the western, monster movies, and even The
Great Stone Face himself, Buster
Keaton—making a Hitchcock parody required some serious chutzpah, not merely to avoid
offending the master of suspense, who was still alive at the time, but to simply pull it off
convincingly. The former certainly wasn't a problem—High Anxiety riffs lovingly on
Hitchcock's themes, and it's clear that Mel is and was an adoring acolyte—but the film is
unfortunately one of Brooks' less cohesive comedies. There's no lack of wily hilarity here,
but
High Anxiety doesn't resonate or surprise as much as Brooks' earlier efforts, and it's
not
quite as unrepentantly insane as some of his films to come. Still, for Hitchcock fans—who will
get
more out of the film than general audiences—High Anxiety is a worthwhile watch, if
only
to pick out references to obscure classics and watch as Brooks stages shot-for-shot spoofs
of
iconic Hitchcock scenes. If you recently purchased the excellent Blu-ray edition of North
by
Northwest, you owe it to yourself to check out High Anxiety, since this is one of
the
films from which Brooks draws the most inspiration.
Hopping into Cary Grant's shoes, Mel Brooks plays Richard H. Thorndyke, Harvard professor,
Nobel
Prize laureate, and new administrator of The Psycho-Neurotic Institute for the Very,
Very Nervous. Strange happenings are afoot at the Institute when Thorndyke
arrives—
his predecessor died under mysterious circumstances—and the asylum's staff, which
includes the
sadistic Nurse Diesel (Cloris Leachman) and the bondage-loving masochist Dr. Montague
(Harvey
Korman), are clearly hiding something. Thorndyke himself suffers from, yes, high
anxiety, and he's got a Vertigo-inducing fear of heights that his psychotherapist
and
mentor Dr. Lillolman (Howard Morris)—whom everyone calls Dr. Little Old Man—has yet to
cure.
When he travels to a psychiatric conference in San Francisco, Thorndyke meets Victoria
Brisbane
(Madeline Kahn), the steely blond daughter of one of the Institute's wealthy patients, and is
framed for murder by a heavy breathing, braces-wearing assassin (Rudy De Luca). To clear
his
good name, Thorndyke must unravel the mystery, all while being attacked in the shower by
a
newspaper-wielding bellhop, and getting shat on by flocks of diarrheic pigeons. Oh, and
Thorndyke, vis-à-vis Mel Brooks, does a killer Frank Sinatra impersonation.
While the jabs at Psycho, Spellbound, Birds, Vertigo, and
North by Northwest are instantly recognizable, only the most diehard Hitchcock
connoisseurs will be able to parse the countless esoteric references to the portly director's
lesser-
known films. Not content to stop at Hitchcock, the film also tosses in spoofs of One Flew
Over
the Cuckoo's Nest, The Wizard of Oz, and even Blowup, Antonioni's mod-
London classic. In fact, I'd say the best gags here aren't related to Hitchcock at all. Nurse
Diesel
—an obvious poke at Nurse Ratched from Cuckoo's Nest—is the film's most
memorable
creation, and Cloris Leachman is by turns terrifying and hilarious. I always lose it when she
lays
down the law of the dinner table and proclaims, "Those who are tardy do not get fruit cup."
Brooks mainstay Harvey Korman is also great as Nurse Diesel's subservient co-conspirator,
especially when he puts in his plastic werewolf fangs to terrify an otherwise sane patient.
While
not quite the straight man, Mel Brooks' Thorndyke feels a bit plain; without an accent to hide
behind, Brooks can't seem to get into character. I always wonder how the film would be
different
if Gene Wilder had taken the lead—he was apparently busy shooting something else at the
time—
and if Brooks had placed himself in the role of Dr. Little Old Man, which just seems more
fitting
for him somehow. Though the film doesn't coalesce into a piece of classic comedy to match
the
grandiosity of the films it's satirizing, High Anxiety is decent mid-period Brooks, which
is,
let's face it, still funnier than most other comedies of the time.
History of the World Part I (9/10)
Or, Cecil B. Demented
The "sword and sandal" epic, the big-budget biblical spectacle, and the stuffy period drama
all
present Hollywood at its most portentous. And that's why Mel Brooks' History of the
World
Part I is so successful; it doesn't so much satirize historical events as it parodies how
Tinseltown chooses to self-importantly portray them. Brooks' previous effort, High
Anxiety, is notably less effective as a comedy precisely because it takes on Alfred
Hitchcock's
films, which are often darkly witty, playful, and self-referential anyway. It's hard to parody
someone when they're already winking at themselves in the mirror. However, self-
seriousness is
like fuel for a good satire. Who better to spoof, then, than the stately Cecil B. DeMille, who
actually required the cast of The King of Kings, his 1927 silent classic, to sign a
contract
that forbade them from indulging in any "unbiblical" activities for a period of five years, so as
not
to sully the spiritual nature of the film? (These activities included the usual heavy hitting
sins,
but also lesser, though apparently equally damning vices such as swimming, going to
baseball
games, and riding in convertibles.) History of the World Part I mines big, Old
Hollywood
"event" movies like DeMille's The Ten Commandments for a deep vein of comedic
gold,
and throughout the film's 92 minutes, we see nearly every one of the commandments
summarily and impertinently broken.
Defiantly irreverent and rightly R-rated, the vignettes that make up The History of the
World
Part I mark somewhat of a turning point for Brooks, who had always utilized "low"
humor—
see the campfire fart scene in Blazing Saddles—but never to the extent that he does
here. The film's opening shot mimics 2001: A Space Odyssey, with pre-human apes
rising from sleep to greet the dawn, but as the strains of Also Sprach Zarathustra
reach a
climax, the apes begin jerking off uncontrollably, and a title reading "Our Forefathers"
appears on
the screen. We are our basest instincts, Brooks seems to be saying, all while throwing a jab
at
Stanley Kubrick for the arguably masturbatory tediousness of 2001's wordless
opening
sequence. Maybe the humor isn't so "low" after all. Bu that's just the beginning. Brooks
shows us
a proud Neanderthal completing work on a cave painting. "And of course," says narrator
Orson
Wells, "with the birth of the artist came the inevitable afterbirth: the critic." The caveman
critic
strokes his beard, pauses in thought, and promptly pisses all over the world's first work of
art.
Religion takes its share of hits too. In a brief vignette about the Old Testament, Brooks plays
Moses coming down off of Mount Sinai with tablets in hand to proclaim, "The Lord Jehovah
has
given unto you these fifteen…"—here he drops one of the tablets—"Oy! Ten! Ten
commandments! For all to obey!" And later, Brooks takes the Spanish Inquisition, one of the
grimmest, most hypocritical events in human history, and turns it into a show-stopping song
'n
dance number, complete with a slot machine made out of Jews, and a team of synchronized
swimming nuns that could put an Esther Williams production to shame. Brooks himself plays
the
grand inquisitor Tomás de Torquemada, who is impossible to sway because "you can't
Torquemada anything!"
The bulk of the film takes place during the height of the Roman Empire, where Brooks plays
Comicus—a stand-up philospher—who is invited to "Caesar's Palace" to perform. On the
way, he
meets Josephus (Gregory Hines), an Ethiopian slave, and Miriam (Mary-Margaret Humes), a
vestal virgin in the service of Empress Nympho (Madeline Kahn). When Comicus bombs in
front of
Caesar (Dom DeLuise), the three have to hotfoot it out of Rome with a unit of centurions in
pursuit. Thankfully, Josephus spots some marijuana growing by the roadside, rolls the
biggest
joint known to man, and blazes up a trail of smoke that leaves the centurions in a literal and
mental haze. After escaping, Comicus ends up working at a restaurant in Judea, where he
frequently interrupts Jesus (John Hurt) and his disciples during Da Vinci's The Last
Supper.
Jumping forward some 1,700 years—this is only Part I, after all—the film wraps up
with
a segment during the French Revolution. As if playing Moses, Comicus, and Torquemada
weren't
enough, Brooks crams himself into two additional roles here. As lusty King Louis, Brooks
pushes
his face into the cleavage of a busty courtesan and then turns to the camera to give his now
famous line, "It's good to be the king." He also plays the palace piss boy, who just happens
to
look exactly like Louis. The film ends with a bit of anachronistic absurdity right up there with
the
ending to Monty Python's The Holy Grail. Somewhat of a return to form, The
History
of the World reunites a cast of Brooks' regulars, along with hilarious newcomer Gregory
Hines—who stepped in for Richard Pryor at the last minute—to create Brooks' last truly great
lampoon, though his later, lesser efforts like Spaceballs and Robin Hood: Men in
Tights would nevertheless become favorites for a new generation of Brooks
fans.
To Be or Not To Be (7/10)
"I gave the greatest performance of my life, and nobody saw it."
In a lot of ways, To Be or Not To Be is the odd man out in The Mel Brooks
Collection. For one, Brooks didn't direct it. Falling under the eponymous Brooksfilms
imprint
that Brooks had started in order to finance more serious-minded fare, like David Lynch's
The
Elephant Man, the film was directed by Alan Johnson, who had previously worked on
several
of Mel's movies as a choreographer. Brooks himself took a producer's credit and used the
time he
gained by not having to be behind the camera to focus on his performance in front of it. And
he
would need it. In this remake, Brooks fills the shoes of the legendary Jack Benny, who
starred in
director Ernst Lubitsch's original 1942 version of To Be or Not To Be, a bleak and
impeccably timed comedy about a troupe of Polish actors who pull a fast one on the
occupying
Nazi forces. The film was derided upon its release—partly because it seemed distasteful to
laugh
at such an imminent threat—but it has since been recognized as a wartime classic. Why a
remake was necessary is anyone's guess, but while this 1983 iteration of the film can't
outclass
or unseat the original, it does manage to entertain simply because Brooks' character seems
like a
role he was born to play.
Brooks is Frederick Bronksi, a showman and entertainer who is "world famous in Poland,"
and
who owns a theatre in Warsaw with his unfaithful actress wife Anna (Brooks' real life wife
Anne
Bancroft). Whenever Frederick goes on stage to perform his dreadful "Highlights from
Hamlet"
act, Polish R.A.F pilot Lieutenant Sobinski (Tim Matheson) sneaks out of the audience to
rendezvous with Anna in her dressing room. This becomes a nightly routine, and Frederick,
unaware of the real reasons for Sobinski's departure, simply thinks he's bombing with the
crowd.
But then the real bombing begins as German forces invade Poland and the theatre gets
rigorously
censored for its "Naughty Nazis" sketch. While Frederick originally suggests that the troupe
should do what any good theater group would—hide in the basement until the war is over—
they
quickly get pulled into a dangerous charade, with actors impersonating Nazis, and Frederick
donning one disguise after another, from a lowly Gestapo captain, to the Fuhrer himself.
When
Hitler attends a command performance at the Bronski Theatre, Frederick & Co. use some
impressive diversions—which will perhaps remind new viewers of Tarentino's Inglourious
Basterds—to escape unnoticed and take off in the mustachioed dictator's plane, with a
cargo
hold filled with all the "gypsies, fags, and Jews" without which the theatre couldn't
exist.
Lubitsch's To Be or Not To Be was careful to make only a passing mention of the
plight of
the Jews in Poland, but director Alan Johnson's take is much more pointed and, if less timely,
certainly more poignant. Not only does he rightfully reinstate the persecution of the Jews in
the
story, but his film is one of the first to acknowledge—in the character of Sasha (James
Haake),
Anna's effeminate assistant—the fact that homosexuals were also hauled off to
concentration
camps. In most other ways, the plot remains identical to the original, though the
performances
are understandably much wilder and looser here. Still, for a film starring Mel Brooks, the tone
is
almost unexpectedly restrained. And if the film has one obvious shortcoming, it's that the
balance
between comedy and drama is often shaky. To Be or Not To Be could've easily been
taken to the extreme on either side, as a laugh-filled farce or a genuinely touching drama,
but
instead it occupies the dangerous and not always effective no-man's-land somewhere in the
middle, with Brooks bringing the hijinks and the late Anne Bancroft playing it relatively
straight as
a grand old leading lady of the stage. It has all the hallmarks—the musical numbers, the
showmanship, the theatricality and zaniness—but To Be or Not To Be simply doesn't
feel like a Mel Brooks movie. Of course, it isn't, but that's not necessarily a bad
thing.
Spaceballs (8/10)
May the farce be with you.
Where do you go after parodying westerns, classic horror, silent film, and, indeed, the very
History of the World? Why, you leave the confines of terrestrial comedy and take to
the
stars. Specifically, the warring stars. The stars at war. The war of the stars. You know what I
mean. Having exhausted Earth's supply of spoof-worthy material, Mel Brooks decided in
1987 to
aim his satiric death ray at the biggest target in the galaxy, nay, the universe. Yes, the
Star
Wars franchise. And while some may say that Spaceballs came a decade too late
to
properly lampoon George Lucas' magnum opus, I say that it's just a good thing that Brooks
beat
the Star Wars prequels to the punch. Because, let's face it, by the time The
Phantom
Menace came out, Lucas was basically doing a parody of himself anyway. And besides,
it's
not like Star Wars was ever or will ever truly be in danger of falling out of geek chic.
And
therein lies the staying power of Spaceballs. As long as there are emotionally
stunted
man-children drooling over figurines of Princess Leia in her slave bikini, there will always be
an
audience for Mel Brooks' epic satirical space adventure.
(Please don't sent me hate mail; I can say these things because I too was the kid on the
block
with all the Star Wars toys, who had collectible trading cards, and who secretly
dreamed
of being the guy on-set who was responsible for getting Carrie Fisher into—and out of—that
costume.)
In a galaxy far, far away, Planet Spaceball is running out of oxygen and President Skroob
(Mel
Brooks)—a much less threatening version of Emperor Palpatine, essentially—has a plan to
suck all
the air out of the peaceful planet of Druidia. Skroob orders his powerful minion Dark Helmet
(Rick
Moranis) to kidnap Vespa, a Druish princess, and force King Roland (Dick Van Patten) to give
up
the combination to the planet's airlock (which turns out to be 1-2-3-4-5). With his daughter's
Mercedes spaceship caught in the tractor beam of Spaceball One, King Roland
conscripts
the renegade Captain Lone Starr (Bill Pullman) and his half-man, half-dog companion Barf
(John
Candy) to rescue her, and agrees to pay them a tidy sum upon her return. This works out
just
swell for Lone Starr, who is indebted to the greasy Mafioso Pizza the Hutt (who ultimately
eats
himself in his limo). Lone Starr and Barf have no trouble rescuing the princess, but their
space-
cruising Winnebago runs out of gas and crashes into the desert planet below. Here they
meet
Yogurt the Wise (also Mel Brooks), a master of The Schwartz and merchandising expert who
hints
at Lone Starr's patronage and also shows off the Spaceballs lunch box, t-shirt, and
flamethrower. When Dark Helmet recaptures the princess, transforms Spaceball One
into
the Mega Maid, and prepares to suck the atmosphere out of Druidia, Lone Starr must
learn to use The Schwartz if he wants to save Vespa and fulfill his own destiny.
I have mixed feelings about Spaceballs. Objectively, it's not nearly as effective as
some of
Brooks' previous parodies, simply because Star Wars really is such an easy target.
On the
other hand, growing up with Star Wars and feeling a kind of sentimental attachment
to
the material, Spaceballs always temporarily overrules my critical side. The film
certainly
has its shortcomings—it's looser and less socially/culturally pointed than Blazing
Saddles
or History of the World Part I—but Brooks has so much fun with the Star Wars
mythos that the film's flaws trail in the wake of its Ludicrous Speed comedy. There are jokes
that
miss the mark by a wider margin than Apollo 13 on its moon shot, but most of the gags hold
up
surprisingly well, especially since Star Wars has officially entered our culture's
Jungian
collective unconsciousness, and babies today are born with an innate encyclopedic
knowledge of
Jedi lore. And it's hard to think of a more quotable film, with gems like "What's the matter
Colonel Sandurz? Chicken?" or "I see your Schwartz is as big as mine." The visual puns are
just
as memorable, with phallic lightsabers, the longest spaceship ever seen in a sci-fi film, and
stormtroopers who literally "comb the desert" with an enormous afro pick. Spaceballs
may not be Brooks' most piercing satire, and it's certainly one of his more juvenile efforts,
but the
film always makes me laugh, and I suppose that's the best judge of a comedy's
success.
Robin Hood: Men in Tights (5/10)
"Let's face it, you've gotta be a man to wear tights."
For years I've waited for Mel Brooks to make a triumphant return to the silver screen,
because
really, as cinematic send offs go, Robin Hood: Men in Tights and Dracula: Dead
and
Loving It don't really cut it for me. By the mid 1990s, Brooks was simply repeating
himself
ad nauseum, hoping to recapture the magic of his earlier films by doing what he's always
done—
spoofing one Hollywood genre after another. The trouble is, Dracula: Dead and Loving
It
is a fangless film that only wishes it could aspire to the lofty comedic heights of Young
Frankenstein, and Robin Hood: Men in Tights is essentially, with the fudging of a
few
plot points, a retelling of Blazing Saddles set in 12th century England. I get it—
parody
has been his shtick ever since he finished The Twelve Chairs—but I can't help but
optimistically hope that Brooks has another The Producers in him, an original comedy
that doesn't rely on the aping, spoofing, and poking of other people's work. I'd even love to
see
him take a stab at a more serious film. Okay, sorry, rant over. Anyway, Brooks' second-to-
last
film, Robin Hood: Men in Tights, pleasurably skewers the overwrought drama of Kevin
Costner's Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves—someone needed to do it—but many of its
jokes
fizzle quietly, and the ones that are successful are met with little fanfare.
It's also the most dated film in the director's otherwise timeless oeuvre. Need an example?
How
about the rappers in tights who give some introductory exposition in the form of a hip-hop
song
with rhyming couplets? If this is Brooks' attempt to remain relevant and timely, it's cringingly
painful and more likely to inspire a kind of wistful sadness than laughs. And that's just for
starters. Perhaps time will be kind to Men in Tights, but right now it's covered with a
funky, mid-1990s mold that's impossible to overlook.
The story hews closely to 1991's Prince of Thieves, with concessions made to the
traditional tale and Errol Flynn's masterful portrayal in 1938's The Adventures of Robin
Hood. Cary Elwes—looking, at times, like Flynn's long-lost doppelganger—plays Robin of
Loxley, who escapes from a prison in Jerusalem during the Crusades and swims all the way
back
to jolly old England, where he meets Ahchoo, son of Asneeze (a very young Dave
Chappelle), and
forms a merry band comprised of his family's blind servant, Blinkin (Mark Blankfield), the
hulking
Little John (Eric Allan Kramer), and the dagger expert Will Scarlet O'Hara (Matthew Porretta).
Together, they crash a party at Prince John's (Richard Lewis) castle, and Robin falls for Amy
Yasbeck's lovely but literally locked-down Maid Marian—she's wearing an Everlast-brand
chastity
belt. The dyslexic Sheriff of Rottingham (Roger Rees) conspires have Robin assassinated at
an
archery festival—and then put his "key" in Marian's "lock"—but the merry men in tights show
up
to save the day. And, of course, Robin finds out that he has the key to Marian's heart—and
her
ironclad chastity belt.
Along the way, we get Tracey Ullman as the lusty but hideous witch Latrine ("Used to be
S**thouse."), Dom DeLuise as a Brando-aping Mafia boss, and Mel Brooks in a bit role as
Rabbi
Tuckman, "purveyor of sacramental wine and moyel extraordinaire." The references to
Prince
of Thieves are countless, but the film's thorniest jab is aimed at Kevin Costner when
Cary
Elwes remarks, "Unlike some Robin Hoods, I can speak with an English accent." As expected,
Brooks loads Men in Tights with silly musical numbers, plenty of physical, slapstick
comedy, and a steady through-line of mildly racy double entendres and sight gags, like the
stately
rise of Robin's sword as he proclaims his love for Maid Marian. Only, it doesn't amount to
much.
Yes, there are some uproariously funny moments, like the blind Blinkin reading a Braille
edition of
"Ye Olde Playboy," or Dave Chappelle's Malcolm X impersonation, but it just seems like
Brooks is
throwing everything at the wall here just to see what sticks. At the end of the film, we're left
with only an intermittently spotted wall, and a heap of gags piled sadly underneath. The
film's
closest thing to a saving grace is Cary Elwes (The Princess Bride, Saw), who
is
just dashing, daring, and romantically swashbuckling enough to pull off his star turn as
Robin of
Loxley. But not even the ghost of Errol Flynn could save Robin Hood: Men in Tights
from
being a third-rate entry into Mel Brooks' canon. Here's to hoping that Mel cranks out one
final
masterpiece, so that future editions of The Mel Brooks Collection can end on a more
satisfying note.
The Twelve Chairs (6/10) The Twelve Chairs makes its Blu-ray debut with a hit-or-miss 1.85:1, 1080p/AVC-
encoded
transfer. You'll notice from the start that this isn't a complete restorative overhaul. There are
two
or three instances of slight but noticeable print damage, and white specks are intermittently
present throughout the film, though they're not too distracting. While Fox hasn't done much
to
touch up the film in a good way, neither have they meddled unnecessarily. The film's
grain structure is intact—levels do sometimes greatly vary between daytime and darker
scenes—
and there's no evidence of DNR or edge enhancement. Other technical troubles like banding
or
macroblocking are also thankfully absent. Clarity waxes and wanes. There are a few
spectacularly
sharp scenes, where facial detail is readily apparent and clothing texture well-reproduced,
but
there are also plenty of soft, slightly hazy shots. However, this is almost certainly a product
of the
source material and not a technical fault of the transfer. There are also scenes of intentional
blurriness, like Ippolit's flashback sequence, where it almost looks like Vaseline has been
smeared
around the edges of the frame to give a dreamy effect. On the bright side, color depth is
quite
impressive and black levels are more than adequately deep—though there's a bit of crush
here
and there—giving the image a just dandy sense of contrast. Ostap's burgundy pants and
blue
jacket look great, and the ample Soviet reds pop nicely.
Blazing Saddles (9/10)
This 2.40:1 1080p VC-1 transfer is a Technicolor dream, even for a Blu-ray disc released in
2006.
Colors are strong and well-saturated throughout (check out the curtains during Lili's anti-
burlesque
show), black levels are deep and un-crushed (see Hedley's suits), and while not razor sharp
by
today's standards, Blazing Saddles shows an extraordinary amount of clarity for its age. The
print
has a handful of specks and flecks, and I noticed some extremely heavy grain in the wagon
train
sequence that stands out from the film's otherwise warm and well-dispersed grain field. This
is,
however, no fault of the transfer and all goes back to the source material. After years of
cruddy
VHS
releases and good-but-not-great DVD transfers, it's great to see Blazing Saddles get
the
crisp cinematic treatment it deserves.
Young Frankenstein (9/10)
Mel Brooks' decision to film Young Frankenstein in black and white was a point of
contention with his original backers, Columbia Pictures, prompting Mel to take the film to his
friend Alan Ladd, Jr., the studio head at 20th Century Fox. Honestly, I can't imagine how the
film
would've fared in color. So much of its effectiveness is based in how precisely it mimics the
look of
the original Frankenstein movies. As one of my favorites of Mel Brooks' films, I was
curious to see how Young Frankenstein's black and white cinematography would
make
the jump to Blu-ray, and Fox didn't let me down, with a stunning 1.85:1, 1080p/AVC-
encoded
transfer. Like The Twelve Chairs, there are still a
few specks on the print, but far less here. Plus, since the film is in black and white, you don't
notice them as much. And the film's black and white gradation is superb, with deep inky
blacks
making up the rampant chiaroscuro shadows, a smooth gradient of grays, white highlights
that
are bright but never overblown, and spot-on contrast. Just look at the scene when Dr.
Frankenstein carries a candle through the secret passageway for an example of the film's
visual
range. Once again, the film's grain hasn't been tampered with and there's no evidence of
edge
enhancement. Young Frankenstein isn't the sharpest film to begin with, but you'll definitely
notice an appreciable upgrade in clarity, texture, and detail from prior DVD releases of the
film.
Really, I couldn't be more pleased with this transfer.
Silent Movie (8/10) Silent Movie makes a grand entrance on Blu-ray with a 1.85:1, 1080p/AVC-encoded
transfer that's anything but quiet. Like the previous films in the collection, there are a few
white
specks here and there and some slight brightness flickering from time to time, but Silent
Movie has certainly never looked better. The film's color scheme is bright and modern,
with a
defiant mid-1970s vibe—defiant because you expect a film called Silent Movie,
naturally,
to be black and white. Saturation is strong here, with colors that are deep and stable. Just
check
out Anne Bancroft's vivid red dress against the green tablecloths in the Rio Bomba Club.
There
were also a few sequences where I was surprised by the illusion of depth that the image is
able to
conjure, especially during the motorized wheelchair race between Paul Newman and our
dynamic
trio. The shots of the three leads driving around town in their yellow convertible look great
as
well. Black levels are satisfyingly deep, and the film's presence is aided by strong but never
overheated contrast. There are a few scattered soft shots, but the film looks pretty crisp for
its
age, especially in close-ups. See the details in the melon balls they eat in James Caan's
trailer,
and make out the individual grains of pepper that Dom DeLuise sprinkles on his bagel. Grain
levels fluctuate a bit from scene to scene, but there's been no digital scrubbing and there
are no
compression artifacts or other technical issues to distract.
High Anxiety (7/10)
While High Anxiety follows Silent Movie chronologically, I actually feel like the
picture quality here is a small step backwards from the color and clarity of its predecessor.
Don't
get me wrong, I'm still definitely enamored of this 1.85:1, 1080p/AVC-encoded transfer, but
the
image seems just slightly more gritty and slightly less vivid, mostly, I suppose, because
High
Anxiety is set largely indoors. The opening scenes in the airport are somewhat soft, with
heavy, chunky grain, but the picture seems to improve, oddly enough, as the film goes on.
While
the colors here aren't as bold as those in Silent Movie, neither are they feeble. The
image
is strong and weighted, with deep blacks, good contrast, and a decent sense of clarity. The
picture
doesn't consistently ride on the razor's edge, but the film is sharp more often than not, and
there
are some stunningly well-resolved shots, like the close-up of Brooks' face as he lies in the
tub
after his "Psycho" attack. As with the previous films, there no real technical troubles and few
distractions. High Anxiety isn't the prettiest film in the collection, but it's no Nurse
Diesel
either.
History of the World Part I (9/10)
With its colorful costumes and colossal set pieces, History of the World Part I has
always
been a big budget visual stunner. Here on Blu-ray, the film looks absolutely astounding,
sporting
a 2.35:1, 1080p/AVC-encoded transfer that provides superlative color reproduction,
newfound
clarity, and an image with a strong sense of depth and presence. Out of all the films in
The
Mel Brooks Collection, the transfer for History of the World Part I impressed me
most. If you've only ever seen the film in standard definition on cable TV—which is how I was
first introduced to it—you're in for a revelatory experience here. The film's color scheme is
bright
and vivid, with bold flashes of color in nearly every frame. See Caesar's purple robes, the
turquoise pool for the synchronized swimmers of The Inquisition, and the crimson cloaks and
gilded armor of the centurions. Speaking of the soldiers, the detailing visible in their armor is
phenomenal. Likewise, facial texture is expertly reproduced and, aside from a scattered
handful of
slightly out-of-focus shots, the image is crisp and almost perfectly resolved. With inky blacks,
deep colors, and a weighty contrast, the image takes on an appearance that's surprisingly
dimensional considering the film's age. Unlike some of the previous films in the collection,
there's
little to no print damage or debris, and I only counted a couple of white specks throughout.
The
film's grain structure is thin but intact, and there are no compression issues or other digital
anomalies to report. I have to give it up to Fox and MGM for the quality of this new
transfer.
To Be or Not To Be (7/10) To Be or Not To Be soliloquizes its way onto Blu-ray with a 1.85:1, 1080p/AVC-
encoded
transfer that flubs a few lines, forgets a few words, but manages to at least earn some
modest
applause at the end of the monologue. Much of the film appears to be shot with some kind
of
diffusion filter in place—perhaps to flatter the lovely but aging Anne Bancroft—and as a
result, the
image is frequently soft and a little hazy. The film's grain structure also has an indistinct,
somewhat smeary quality, which leads me to think that that some slight DNR has been
applied.
Never fear, though, as faces still maintain some texture and never look like claymation
figures or
wax models. Fine detail, however, does appear to be moderately diminished, though this
seems
mostly due to the soft-focus filtering. Still, color depth is impressive—see the theatre's red
curtains and the bold Nazi armbands, Bancroft's glittering silver dress, and the pink clown
car—
and both black levels and contrast are strong, though there's a bit of black crush on
occasion,
especially in the Nazi uniforms. The print itself is very clean, with no debris or damage and
very
few specks. While the diffusion filter on the source material is a strange and ineffective
choice
that holds the film back from the clarity it could otherwise have, it is what is, and To Be or
Not To Be looks just fine, considering.
Spaceballs (8/10)
This is the same disc that was released in June of this year, and it's as impressive as ever,
with a
1080p/AVC-encoded transfer that gives Spaceballs—a former VHS favorite—a new
lease
on home video life. If you haven't seen the film since its VHS days, you'll go into Ludicrous
Speed
when you see the level of detail that's been pulled out of the film's negative. Pizza the
Hutt's face
is disgustingly reproduced, with oozing rivers of melted cheese over his wet and doughy
skin.
Dark Helmet's faceplate is sharp and the uniforms of the film's "storm troopers" show off
previously unseen texture and detail. This goes for nearly the entire film; aside from a
couple of
noticeably softer shots, Spaceballs is a crisp and even occasionally stunning on Blu-ray.
While
many of the film's interiors are intentionally drab—see the almost completely beige palette of
Lone Starr's Winnebago or the matte gray halls of Spaceball One—the color
reproduction
here is fantastic, particularly in bright flashes like King Roland's crimson cloak, the pastel pink
of
Prince Valium's leggings, and the glittery gold of Yoghurt's skin. Black levels and contrast are
spot-on, flesh tones are warm and consistent, and with the exception of a few heavily
grainy
effects shots, the film's grain is thin and unobtrusive.
Robin Hood: Men in Tights (7/10) Robin Hood: Men in Tights prances onto Blu-ray with a 1.85:1, 1080p/AVC-encoded
image that, oddly enough, looks more dated than most of Brooks' earlier films. Not in terms
of
wear and tear, mind you, or even picture quality, but simply because of the mid-1990s
cinematography. In actuality, the picture here is fairly strong, with an all-around decent
sense of
clarity and deep colors. There are a handful of noticeably soft shots—especially longer
landscapes
—but this transfer is also capable of extremely fine detail, like the shimmering weft of Isaac
Hayes' glittery turban, the embossed lettering on Maid Marian's Everlast chastity belt, and
the
texture of the suede on Robin Hood's jumper. I even noticed a few things I'd never caught
before, like the dents and scratches on Robin's sword. Greens look slightly oversaturated
and skin
tones can veer towards the ruddy side of the spectrum, but the film's color depth is good,
which
is important considering all the vibrant 12th century costuming. Black levels are adequately
deep,
contrast is tight—if a bit hot at times—and while there are some fluctuations in grain levels
throughout the film, it's never distracting, and there's no evidence of DNR.
The Twelve Chairs (6/10)
The original monaural presentation of The Twelve Chairs has been expanded into an
effective but somewhat thin DTS-HD Master Audio 5.1 surround track. When I say thin, I
mean
that there's not a lot of bass presence throughout. As a result, some of the musical numbers
—
especially Brooks' theme song, "Hope for the Best, Expect the Worst"—sound a little tinny
and
brash. Otherwise, I don't have many qualms with this track. The dialogue is easily
discernable—
though the ADR work is noticeably dated at times—and the vocals are properly prioritized in
the
mix. As expected of a formerly mono track, the surround channels aren't given a whole lot to
do
here, but when they are used, it's to good effect. You'll hear a train rush through the rear
speakers, Dom Deluise's screams pinging between the surrounds, and some occasional
ambience.
Otherwise, this is a straightforward, front-heavy mix that sounds a little squashed
dynamically,
but gets the job done sufficiently.
The disc also includes English, French, Spanish, and
Portuguese mono mixes, and English SDH, Spanish, Portuguese, Cantonese, and Mandarin
subtitles.
Blazing Saddles (7/10) Blazing Saddles' original monaural track has been expanded here into a Dolby Digital
5.1
mix that occasionally falls off its horse while galloping across the sound field. The many
musical
numbers are warm and dynamic; instruments are spread across channels pleasingly and
ring
true,
at least to my ears. That said, the track generally lacks bottom end heft and comes across
tinny
at
times. Voices are occasionally muddled by the surrounding sound effects, which, while not
exactly
immersive, do offer up some rear channel action. The crowd is especially lively during Lily's
song-
and-dance, and bullets careen and pi-ting with comic hyperbole. While this is
certainly
the
best that Blazing Saddles has ever sounded, the mix could still use some work, and I
do
wish that the original track had been included for reference purposes.
The disc also
includes French and Spanish mono tracks, and English SDH, French, and Spanish
subtitles.
Young Frankenstein (8/10) Young Frankenstein marks the start of Mel Brooks' long-time collaboration with
composer
John Morris, who supplied the film with a suitably eerie and haunting score that attempts to
match the thin but distinctive sound of the 1930s Frankenstein films. His soundtrack
is
the movie's defining audio characteristic, and it's effortlessly reproduced by the DTS-HD
Master
Audio 5.1 surround track featured here. The music is fantastic, and I'd love some insight on how
Morris actually went about the
recording
process, because the film really does have that "Old Hollywood" sound. Violins snake
through the
upper registers, horns charge brashly through, and the bottom end is rounded out by
kettledrums and mournful cello. The original mono stems have been effectively separated
into a
multi-channel presentation, allowing more space between instruments and letting the music
bleed pleasingly into the rear speakers. There's also a surprising amount of ambience and
sound
effects in the surround channels, from low rolling thunder and wolf cries to pouring rain and
the
screaming and jeering of the angry mob. Dialogue is perfectly balanced and easily
understood,
except for that of the constable with the mechanical arm, and his lines are hard to make out
on
purpose.
The disc also includes English, French, and Spanish mono tracks, and English
SDH, Spanish, Cantonese, and Mandarin subtitles.
Silent Movie (6/10)
How much sonic interaction can you expect from a film called Silent Movie? If you
guessed "not much," then you're on to something. Aside from a single, one-word line of
spoken
dialogue, all of the film's sound comes from John Morris' peppy score and a handful of sound
effects that have been mixed in to fit with the timing of the music. There's no ambience, and
there are long stretches of the movie where silence reigns. However, this isn't why I'm
scoring
the film a 6 out of 10. The lack of sound is an intentional choice, and I not only respect that,
but
I love the film's minimal sound design. I'm giving the audio a 6 out of 10 because where
there
should be absolute silence, you can still hear a small hiss leaking out from all speakers. In
fact,
this hiss is apparent even when the music is marching along. I got used to it after about 20
minutes, but it was admittedly distracting before that. On the plus side, Morris' score sounds
superb, with instruments pleasingly distributed throughout the channels, some modest bass
response, and a generally excellent sense of detail and definition. On a side note, I find it
strange
that this disc includes additional English, Spanish, and French Dolby Digital 2.0 tracks for a film
that
has
only a single word of dialogue. Go figure.
Also bizarrely, the disc includes English SDH,
Spanish, Cantonese, Korean, and Mandarin subtitles.
High Anxiety (7/10) High Anxiety follows the spartan sound design of Silent Movie with a DTS-HD
Master Audio 5.1 surround track that's effective but noticeably front-heavy. As a "talkie,"
High Anxiety's audio obviously trumps that of Silent Movie, but there's little in
terms of rear channel engagement besides some occasional quiet ambience and John Morris'
score. Nevertheless, everything sounds clear, detailed, and moderately full, especially the
score,
which features some dizzyingly spiraling strings. The sound effects are decent, if a bit aged,
and
the dialogue is clean and appropriately prioritized to make sure no one misses a potential
laugh.
When I take notes for the audio portions of my reviews, I usually comment on what strikes
me
as particularly impressive or noticeably bad about a track. For this film I hardly took any
notes at
all. Take that as you will, but I suppose what I mean is that I have real reservations—aside
from
the lack of surround channel activity—about High Anxiety's newly minted lossless
audio
track.
The disc also includes an English stereo mix, French, Spanish, and Portuguese
Dolby Digital 5.1 tracks, and English SDH, Spanish, Portuguese, Cantonese, Korean, and
Mandarin subtitles.
History of the World Part I (8/10)
While not as self-evidently impressive as the film's eye-widening visual presentation,
History
of the World Part I is given a solid DTS-HD Master Audio 5.1 surround track that leaves
little
to be desired. From the opening strains of the 2001: A Space Odyssey-aping Also
Sprach Zarathustra—which features some droning that effectively utilizes the .1 LFE
channel
—the film's music sounds spectacular, with strong bass, punchy dynamics, and plenty of
detail.
The big song 'n dance number about the Spanish Inquisition is especially impressive, and I'm
sure
it's never sounded better. The rear channels aren't utilized as much as they are in some of
the
other films in the collection—you'll hear the score and some quiet ambience, and that's
about it—
but I have no reservations about the presentation here. Most importantly, the dialogue is
clean,
tight, and perfectly prioritized, so you'll never miss one of Comicus' jokes. There's not a lot
here
to tickle the eardrums of audiophiles, but if you're looking for demo-worthy, reference quality
sound design, you're probably not watching a Mel Brooks film, right?
The disc also
includes an English mono mix, French, Spanish, and Portuguese Dolby Digital 5.1 tracks, and
English SDH, Spanish, Portuguese, Cantonese, Korean, and Mandarin subtitles.
To Be or Not To Be (7/10) To Be or Not To Be arrives on Blu-ray with a DTS-HD Master Audio 5.1 surround track
that does what it needs to do but not much more. Overall, the dynamic range here seems to
lack
low end, giving the sound a slightly thin and ungrounded quality, although there's plenty of
detail
in the score and ample punch in the jazz hands-inducing show tunes peppered throughout
the
film. The rear speakers get some infrequent but effective interaction, pumping out audience
applause, footsteps, an air raid siren, and even a few modest cross-channel movements,
like the
panning motion of the Hitler's plane. I did notice that the dialogue seems occasionally low in
the
mix, which prompted me to bump up the volume a bit from time to time. Still, I had no trouble
understanding anything, and there are no weird audio anomalies, like hissing or dropouts,
to
report. While To Be or Not To Be won't tax your home theater system, this lossless
track
is more than adequate for the film's audio needs.
The disc also includes an English
Dolby Surround track, French and Spanish mono mixes, a Portuguese Dolby Digital 5.1 track, and
English SDH, Spanish, Portuguese, Cantonese, Korean, and Mandarin subtitles.
Spaceballs (9/10)
With one of the more raucous mixes in The Mel Brooks Collection, Spaceballs'
DTS-HD Master Audio 5.1 surround track provides a sweeping dynamic range, frequent
usage of
the rear speakers, and an overall experience that easily trounces any previous home video
iterations of the film. John Morris' score, which parodies John Williams' portentous themes for
Star Wars and even Jaws, emerges from all channels with bombast and
detail.
And the other music in the film, including Bon Jovi's "Raise Your Hands," rocks just as hard.
Most
impressive, however, is the attention given to creating a soundstage that is full, immersive,
and
accurate—something you don't always expect from a comedy. Granted, this is no mere
comedy—
it's Mel Brook's riffing on outer-space epics—so the sound effects and audio design have to
be just
as effective as those in the material that Brooks is spoofing. Laser blasts rip holes through
the
surrounds, Lone Starr's Winnebago crashes between channels, and light sabers crackle and
cross.
We get plenty of soundfield-filling ambience and even some rumbling LFE engagement here
and
there. Combine all that with excellent dialogue reproduction and a hassle-free balance, and
you
have a track that defies expectations of what a 1980s comedy should sound like.
The
disc also includes an English stereo track, French, Latin Spanish, Castilian Spanish, German,
Italian, Hungarian, and Portuguese Dolby Digital 5.1 mixes, as well as English SDH, French,
German, Italian, Latin Spanish, Castilian Spanish, Portuguese, Dutch, Danish, Finnish,
Norwegian, Swedish, and Hungarian subtitles.
Robin Hood: Men in Tights (8/10)
One of the highlights of this disc is the excellent DTS-HD Master Audio 5.1 surround track
that
the film's been given. Not only does it offer a sound that's rich, detailed, and full, but it also
features near-constant engagement of the rear channels. If you listen to the opening theme
of
John Morris' score, you'll hear breathy flutes, horns that punch with a clean timbre, and
satisfyingly clear strings. The music throughout is writ large and fills the soundstage from all
sides. Likewise, the surround speakers are almost always in use. Flaming arrows rip through
the
air, glass shatters when a camera busts through Miriam's bathroom window, a cauldron
bubbles,
horses trot, and the motion of a catapult swings through the rear channels. Even when
there's
no action on screen, you'll hear crickets, babbling streams, and other sources of woodsy
ambience
in Sherwood Forest. There are even a few instance of impressive LFE usage, like when Robin
Hood's family castle gets towed away. Last but not least, dialogue is effectively reproduced
and
balanced, leaving no line unheard.
The disc also includes English, French, and Spanish
Dolby Surround tracks, and English SDH and Spanish subtitles.
A Note on the Packaging The Mel Brooks Collection arrives in a sturdy cardboard case, sized to accommodate
the
included 119-page book, that will likely infuriate shelf-purists who like their Blu-rays lined up
in
neat, organized rows. I don't really have a problem with the size, though I'm still trying to
figure
out where to put the thing, but I'm not exactly enamored with the flimsier interior cardboard
case used to house the nine discs. I can easily see the case falling apart or getting beaten
up with
too much use, so you'll want to be gentle when flipping through the pages. On the plus side,
the
hardcover book is excellent, with chapters devoted to each film in the collection. Now, on to
the
goodies:
The Twelve Chairs (1/10)
Trailers
Includes high definition trailers for High Anxiety, History of the World Part I,
Robin Hood: Men in Tights, Silent Movie, To Be or Not to Be, Young
Frankenstein.
Blazing Saddles (6/10)
Any owners of the 30th Anniversary Edition DVD of Blazing Saddles will be immediately
familiar
with the special features offered here. All features are in standard definition.
Back in the Saddle (28:21)
I found this short retrospective enlightening, especially regarding the genesis of the story
and the
writing process with Richard Pryor. Mel Brooks, writer Andrew Bergman, producer Michael
Hertzberg, and several cast members provide plenty of insight into the audacity and
controversial
nature of the film.
Intimate Portrait: Madeline Kahn (3:40, excerpt)
The back of the Blu-ray case is misleading in calling this short featurette a "documentary."
Basically, it's a brief tribute the wonderful Madeline Kahn, and it's a shame we couldn't have
gotten the Lifetime TV special from which this was excerpted.
Black Bart: 1975 Pilot Episode of the Proposed TV Series Spin-off
It's clear why this concept wouldn't work well on television--the racial attitudes are a bit too
fierce
for primetime. None of the principal actors return, and the laugh track cheapens the
deal.
Commentary by Director Mel Brooks
This commentary is very detached from the actual film. It seems like someone just set up a
microphone, let Mel Brooks tell some stories about Blazing Saddles, and then let his
ramblings play over the movie.
Deleted Scenes (9:40)
Theatrical Trailer (2:14)
Young Frankenstein (10/10)
Commentary by Mel Brooks
What can I say? This commentary by Mel Brooks is like manna from heaven. Full of insights
and
stories, Brooks delivers the goods here, only occasionally slowing down. This commentary
makes
a great pairing with the also-included trivia track.
Inside the Lab: Secret Formulas in the Making of Young Frankenstein
This all-new picture-in-picture feature allows Mel Brooks and a whole host of associated film
historians, screenwriters, and actors to comment on the movie's creation and legacy. Brooks
starts with a ringing endorsement for Blu-ray—He says before Blu-ray he looked like
Quasimodo,
but now he looks like Daffy Duck—and the eleven segments that play intermittently
throughout
the film focus mostly on comparisons to earlier Frankenstein movies.
If your Blu-ray player is BonusView-enabled, then this picture-in-picture special feature can
be
viewed while watching the film. If you don't have BonusView capabilities, or if you just want
to
watch the clips separately, you can select them from a menu.
The standard definition clips include: Sources of Inspiration (5:23), Transylvania Station
(3:52),
Grave Robbing (1:18), Stealing a Brain (2:27), the Creation (2:51), Inspector Kemp (2:31),
The
Monster and Helga (1:54), Harold the Hermit (2:36), Puttin' on the Ritz (2:54), Storming the
Castle (2:08), and The Monster's Bride (2:21).
Deleted Scenes
The special features menu actually gives you the choice of standard definition deleted
scenes and
high definition deleted scenes. Remarkably, there's no overlap between the two. "Deleted
Scenes
SD" (SD, 16:27 total) includes seven excised clips, and "Deleted Scenes HD" (1080p, 25:01
total) features seventeen cuts and alternate takes. There's some great stuff in
here.
It's Alive! Creating a Monster Classic (1080i, 31:16)
"It's the best movie I think I've made," says Mel Brooks, introducing this spectacular new
making-of documentary. In five parts, the features covers the genesis of the story, the
remarkable cast, the happy atmosphere on set, the film's tone and timing, and its status as
an
immortal comedy.
Making FrankenSense of Young Frankenstein (SD, 41:52)
This older documentary covers a lot of the same ground as the above, but is definitely worth
watching because of the involvement of Gene Wilder, who leads us through the making of
the
film.
Transylvanian Lullaby: The Music of John Morris (1080i, 10:29)
John Morris and Mel Brooks are an almost inseparable team, and this new documentary
focuses
on Morris' spectacular work on Young Frankenstein.
The Franken-Track: A Monstrous Conglomeration of Trivia
Turn this feature on to view near-constant pop-up video-style trivia while watching the
film.
Production Photographs (SD, 36:15)
Yes, 36 minutes of production photographs. Thankfully, you can skip forward via your
remote.
Mexican Interviews (SD, 6:38 total)
Includes interview with Marty Feldman, Gene Wilder, and Cloris Leachman.
Blucher Button
Hit this button to hear a horse whinny. Pointless but fun.
The disc also includes, Outtakes (SD, 5:01), TV Spots (SD, 3:21),
Trailers
(SD, 7:07), and an Isolated Score Track (DTS-HD Master Audio 5.1).
Silent Movie (5/10)
Silent Laughter: The Reel Inspirations of Silent Movie (1080i, 24:46)
Fox doles out another excellent new documentary here that examines the influence of silent
film
stars, especially Buster Keaton, on the creation of Brooks' own Silent Movie. Features
interviews with Brooks, writer Alan Spencer, author Jeffrey Vance, actor Dom DeLuise,
etc.
Speak Up! Historical Hollywood Trivia Track
This trivia track gives some insight into how Silent Movie draws from and is inspired
by
the silent classics of the early 20th century.
Trailers
Includes the theatrical trailer (1080p, 1:56), the Portuguese trailer (SD, 1:37), and the
Spanish
trailer (SD, 1:37).
Mel Brooks Trailers
Includes high definition trailers for High Anxiety, History of the World Part I,
Robin Hood: Men in Tights, To Be or Not To Be, and Young
Frankenstein.
High Anxiety (5/10)
Hitchcock and Mel: Spoofing the Master of Suspense (1080p, 29:20)
Featuring interviews with Mel Brooks, Hitchcock's granddaughter Mary Stone, and many
others,
this new documentary pulls out many of the Hitchcock references in High Anxiety and
reveals the amiable relationship between the master of comedy and the master of
suspense.
The "Am I Very Very Nervous?" Test
Turn this feature on, and while you're watching the film multiple-choice questions will pop up
to
gauge just how nervous you are. Some of the questions are pretty funny—I tested the first
15
minutes—but I can't see myself being committed to the quiz throughout the film.
Don't Get Anxious! The Trivia of Hitchcock
Like the title implies, this pop-up trivia track focuses mostly on the Hitchcock references in
the
film.
Theatrical Trailer (1080p, 2:41)
Mel Brooks Trailers
Includes high definition trailers for History of the World Part I, Robin Hood: Men in
Tights, Silent Movie, To Be or Not To Be, and Young
Frankenstein.
Isolated Score Track (DTS-HD Master Audio 5.1)
History of the World Part I (5/10)
Musical Mel: Inventing "The Inquisition" (1080p, 10:40)
"What do you do to the Spanish Inquisition to make it palatable? You make it a musical,"
says
composer John Morris, introducing Mel Brooks' uncanny ability to turn uncomfortable
historical
periods into epochs ripe for comedy. While the main focus is on the big Spanish Inquisition
song
and dance number, Broadway director Susan Stroman, choreographer Alan Johnson,
producer
Stuart Cornfeld and other all confer on the state of Mel Brooks' brilliantly musical
mind.
Making History: Mel Brooks on Creating the World (1080p, 10:04)
While not as comprehensive as some of the other new documentaries created for this
collection,
Making History gives a decent overview of the film, with a special emphasis on Mel Brooks'
talents
as a world-class "bullshit artist."
The Real History of the World Trivia Track
"Don't know much about history? And for some reason you don't trust Mel Brooks? Well, pal,
you're in luck. Here's your chance to learn just enough history to look like a know-it-all, plus
just
enough about the making of this movie to impress Mel Brooks." So starts this pop-up track,
which combines world history facts with trivia from the film.
Mel Brooks Trailers
Includes high definition trailers for High Anxiety, Robin Hood: Men in Tights,
Silent Movie, To Be or Not To Be, and Young Frankenstein.
Theatrical Trailer (1080p, 3:04)
Isolated Score Track (DTS-HD Master Audio 5.1)
To Be or Not To Be (4/10)
Brooks and Bancroft: A Perfect Pair (1080p, 14:49)
There aren't too many Hollywood marital success stories, but the pairing of Brooks and
Bancroft
was one of the greats. Here, many of their friends and co-workers comment on what made
them
so special together.
How Serious Can Mel Brooks Really Get? (SD, 2:46)
This vintage promo piece includes a short synopsis, clips from the film, and brief interviews
with
Mel Brooks.
Profiles (SD)
Includes three short archival interviews with Mel Brooks (2:39), Anne Bancroft (2:03), and
Charles Durning (2:33).
To Be or Not To Be: That is the Trivia!
Man, they just keep coming up with witty names for these pop-up trivia tracks.
Mel Brooks Trailers
Includes high definition trailers for High Anxiety, History of the World Part I,
Robin Hood: Men in Tights, and Silent Movie.
Trailers
Includes the theatrical trailer (1080p, 3:21) and the Portuguese trailer (SD, 3:24).
Isolated Score Track (DTS-HD Master Audio 5.1)
Spaceballs (8/10)
Commentary by Mel Brooks
Brooks offers up another wry, chuckle-filled commentary, though I couldn't get into this one
as
much as the excellent track he gives on the Young Frankenstein disc. Expect lots of
little
stories, some production details, and perhaps a few too many instances when Brooks simply
points out what's going on onscreen.
Spaceballs: The Documentary (SD, 30:04)
"A funny effect is a real effect with some extension," says Mel Brooks, who introduces the
importance of the film's special effects in selling the comedy. In addition to examining the
visual
effects, this documentary includes interviews with a lot of the cast and crew, and clips from
the
film.
In Conversation: Mel Brooks & Thomas Meehan (SD, 20:30)
Here, Mel and writing collaborator Thomas Meehan have a long discussion about process of
writing the film. Well worth watching for Spaceballs fans and writers alike.
John Candy: Comic Spirit (SD, 10:02)
A tribute to the late, great comic mastermind, featuring interviews with his biographer,
several
members of the Spaceballs cast, and some archive interviews of John Candy
himself.
Watch the Movie in Ludicrous Speed! (1080p, 00:29)
Exactly what it sounds like. See the whole film in thirty seconds!
Still Galleries
Features an art gallery, a costume gallery, and a gallery of behind-the-scenes
photos.
Trailers
Includes the Exhibitor Trailer with Mel Brooks Introduction (SD, 2:12), and the film's
theatrical
trailer (SD, 2:30).
Film Flubs (SD)
There are six short clips here, each one devoted to pointing out one of the film's
flubs.
Storyboard to Film Comparison (SD, 6:41)
Robin Hood: Men in Tights (6/10)
LaserDisc Commentary with Mel Brooks
A blast from the past, i.e., the early days of director's commentaries. Mel points out a lot of
obvious stuff here, but he's also really funny—no surprise—and he gives some great stories
about
the production of the film.
Funny Men in Tights: Three Generations of Comedy (1080i, 13:49)
Between the old guard of Dom DeLuise and Dick Van Patton, and newcomers like Dave
Chappelle,
Men in Tights features three generations of comedic titans. This retrospective takes a
cheery look back on the making of the film and features interviews with a few of Brooks'
regulars.
Robin Hood: Men in Tights - The Legend Had it Coming (SD, 26:14)
This vintage HBO special is quite good, actually, and includes lots of behind-the-scenes
action,
plenty of cast interviews, and a look at the creation of some of the film's action
sequences.
Theatrical Trailer (1080p, 1:13)
Mel Brooks Trailers
Includes high definition trailers for High Anxiety, History of the World Part I,
Silent Movie, To Be or Not To Be, and Young Frankenstein.
What else is left to say? If you're a hardcore Mel Brooks aficionado, you've likely already picked
up
Blazing Saddles, Young Frankenstein, and Spaceballs on Blu-ray, making
this nine disc set a little less appealing, especially considering that individual releases for all
the films
should be forthcoming. For all you holdouts, though, who surmised this box set was in the
pipeline,
The Mel Brooks Collection would make an excellent purchase or gift. With the noticeable
exclusion of The Producers, the collection gathers together nine of Brooks' best films
and
presents them with beautiful high definition transfers, capable lossless audio tracks, and a
generous
helping of supplementary features. It's good to be the king, but it's also good to be one of his
followers.
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For a limited time, Amazon is offering The Mel Brooks Collection on Blu-ray for 54% off its SRP. A nine-film retrospective of some of Brooks' career highlights, The Mel Brooks Collection includes such classics as Blazing Saddles and Young Frankenstein. Amazon's ...
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