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Nathan Lane and Matthew Broderick do it again. Reprising their
now-fabled roles from one of the all-time greatest Broadway smash hits, Lane, as the
has-been Broadway producer Max Bialystock and Broderick, as the not quite totally innocent
hack accountant Leo Bloom, almost succeed, amidst much singing and hoofing and outrageous
sets and punch lines, in pulling a fast one. In the tradition of Auntie
Mame, The Producers is the film version of a successful Broadway musical,
based on a popular Hollywood movie. As in Mel Brooks’ original 1968 film of The Producers, where Max
Bialystock (played by Zero Mostel) schemed with Leo Bloom (the great Gene Wilder), Lane
and Broderick contrive to shake down investors for easy money – raise cash far in
excess of cost, produce a sure-fire flop, a play that will open and close before the end
of the first act, and pocket the difference.
The singing, dancing, miming show-biz cons succeed in pulling a fast
one over, mostly on themselves (as it turns out), with the help of the world’s worst
Nazi-stereotype weekend playwright Franz Liebkind (Will Ferrell), the retro Swedish blond
bombshell model/actress/secretary Ulla Something-Or-Other (Uma Thurman), the world’s
tackiest piss-elegant drag-queen stage director, Roger de Bris (Gary Beach), his live-in
1950s Hollywood evil homosexual queen cliche assistant, Carmen Ghia (Roger Bart), and a
cast of hundreds. Counted as but one among the many gems of this film version–the
principles are leading talents (they sing, they dance, they act, they have perfect comedic
timing), their love of these roles and affection for each other has only grown since
Broadway days, and it shows, from opening scene to grand finale.
What was the guaranteed absolute worst musical idea in the 1960s?
Answer: Springtime for Hitler. Brooks’ entire film turned on this one-joke
punch line. But, instead of folding instantly, Bialystock’s bombshell becomes
successful beyond anyone’s wildest dreams. Of course, by the time The Producers
was recycled as a musical (and it seems to have promulgated the recent trend to redraft
popular films, novels, and pop artists’ song lists as musical plays), the joke was a
very old dog. In the musical version, Springtime for Hitler opens half way through
the film and the entire production is presented as an over-the-top show-within-a-show.
The film version of the musical is filled with lovingly sly, coy, and
in-your-face moments of chutzpah. A battalion of little old ladies in blue tap-dance in a
precision zimmer frame drill team in Central Park. Hitler goose-steps and prances and
minces. Chorus girls descend from risers singing and dancing, gowns and head gear and
props as if stolen from a Ken Russell film and choreographed by Busby Berkeley on smack.
And the show-stopping, gut-splitting numbers just keep on coming.
The cast and crew are aware this is a film for the ages. Lane pays
tribute to Mostel, becoming preoccupied with his Mostel comb-over hair-do on more than one
occasion. In another hamming aside to the camera, Lane offers up his Lou Abbot. The only
fake accent worse than Ferrell’s pseudo neo-nazi shtick is Uma Thurman’s
all-talking and all-singing Anita Ekberg clone. Will Ferrell’s penchant for
adolescent American humor works well, transforming Liebkind into a complete cartoon
character, a catalog of the all-American ideal "bad German" stereotype. (This,
in itself, is somewhat painful to observe, but for other reasons.) Gary Beach’s Roger
de Bris (What would you get if Liberace married Napoleon and dressed the baby up as
Hitler?) is the coup de grace. Hitler and lesser criminals (such as Bialystock and Bloom)
alike can best be tolerated when turned inside out (like daddy turning on the lights and
dispelling the monsters under the bed). Add liberal, self-conscious doses of 1960s
Hollywood light romantic comedy (think Doris Day and Rock Hudson played in drag), and
voila: the perfect balance between silliness and levity which is The Producers.
- Les Wright
