Christmastime
brought not one but two remakes about larger than life characters running amok
in the streets of New York, one a worthy re-imagining “King Kong” and
the other a stilted retread “The Producers” that gives it’s own
classic question “Where did we go right?” an all too easy answer - “Nowhere!”
The Producers 2005, to be more accurate, is a film version of a successful Broadway
version of Mel Brooks’ beloved 1968 film classic, from which he wrote the
script as well as several new songs and production numbers for the stage version.
A play that enjoyed one of the most successful runs in Broadway history and in
2001 made off with a record-setting number of Tony Awards, which then begs the
obvious question about this newest remake “Where did they go wrong?”
It
must have looked like such a no-brainer, that director Susan Stroman (who directed
the Broadway version) literally checked hers at the door and instead of making
a movie, she quite literally filmed the play. Very seldom does the camera do anything
other than watch the play which is perhaps the most notable place where Stroman
went wrong. Even so with Matthew Broderick on board to reprise his mega-successful
role as accountant Leo Bloom (the part which was “back in the day” the
first of many successful collaborations between Gene Wilder and Brooks. Pencil
in Nathan Lane who would reprise his “Kong-sized” stage role as Max
Bialystock (the hack Broadway producer who’d probably sell his mother back
to the Germans for a hit play - the part played so masterfully by Zero Mostel
nearly 30 years past) Throw in Uma Thurman for sizzle and scenery and let’s
bring Broadway to Peoria.
If
you’re not familiar with the premise of the story, it’s definitely worth
a paragraph. After a string of failures, Max (Lane) is reprimanded by his accountant
Leo (Broderick) because in order to take a little of the sting out of his latest
flop he fools around with a few numbers, or as Leo calls it “cooking the
books.” As a flip little aside, Leo suggests that Max could probably make
more money if he produced a total failure. “Cha-ching” After crunching
a number or two, the idea looks like it might just pencil out. Soon obsessed with
failure, the two crackpots begin their search for the worst script in town. A
play so bad they’d be lucky to get through one performance before it’s
booed right off the Great White Way.
While
sorting through a pile of potential bombs, they happen upon a play so bad, so
patently awful that the beauty of it literally brings them to tears. The Play
“Springtime For Hitler” by Nazi playwright Franz Leibkind (Will Ferrell,
who makes a game effort). Springtime for Hitler is a fanciful musical intended
as vindication for Adolph, the sort of thing they imagine that will have patrons
leaving the theater on a dead run. Just to ice the deal they hire a director who
speaks fluent gibberish and is accompanied by a shrieking ponce of an assistant
and before you can say Fahrfugnugen they’ve got a major hit on their hands,
which may well land the two of them in the poky.
What
happens to The Producers can be summed up in the translation. Brooks won an Oscar
in 1968 for the original screenplay, thanks to Wilder’s painful paranoia
and hushed hysterics playing off of Mostel’s shameless greed and egotism.
In it’s translation to the stage Brooks added plenty of dick jokes and gay
jokes and everything is broadened to the point that subtlety gets blown way past
the guy sitting in the back row. Unfortunately the execution of the story and
the Broadway musical numbers turn this into an overlong and cumbersome affair.
Lane and Broderick fail to translate their stage antics into credible cinematic
performances. In some instances I felt as if the two are looking at the audience
puppyeyed, unsure if anyone got the joke they just attempted. It seems obvious
that job one as the director would have been to tone down the stagy projection
and introduce a more organic element to all of the relationships. Every punch
line seems to include a laughter pause. It was also obvious that all of the decent
laughs came from lines out of the original film. As previously mentioned the cinematography
is virtually non-existent and Thurman’s' Ulla is a cartoon character version
of a Swede with an accent your average third grader could manage. The same goes
for Will Ferrell’s German. though he does go for it and gets a few chuckles
with his constant concern about His Fuhrer not getting his proper dignity. I might
also mention the ridiculous overuse of gay stereotypes prancing around like insufferable
poofs, singing a double entendre number called "Keep It Gay" that is
beyond the pale. As for the other numbers. Just plain boring. In fact the only
good music is in the “Springtime For Hitler” production itself.
This
painfully disappointing remake marks the first and probably last outing for Susan
Stroman, as a director of feature film. She directs the film as if the camera
is an effrontery and should only be used sparingly. The 2001 musical adaptation
is packed to the brim with unnecessary caricatures, asides, stereotypes and bloated
musical travesties that dilute the punch of Mel Brooks fervently irreverent humor.
In my opinion, they should have been happy with the Tony’s, there certainly
won’t be any Oscar talk surrounding this big, noisy, annoying and often offensive
clunker of a film. Brooks should have known better than to trample on his own
garden. Brooks himself actually gets the last word in this thing, appearing amid
the chorus girls in the final production number, “Go home, he says, “It’s
over.” Ironically there are probably a number of people that had already
gone home and considering his advanced years, it’s possible that “it’s
over’ might be in reference to his career.
