The Producers (1967)

 "Deutschland is happy and gay...."

I haven't blogged much in recent days because I'm cramming for a big interview on Wednesday morning for a potential promotion at work, after which normal blogging will resume. Tonight, however, is my night of rest, with good Cornish ale and entertainment of the strictly relaxing kind.

It's absurd that I should see this film for the first time at forty-four, but there are so many seminal films I still haven't seen, even having blogged more than 750 of them over the last ten years. It is, of course, no less brilliant for the fact that I haven't been living under a rock all my life and am very much aware not only of the concept (if not the precise accounting subterfuge) but of the signature song.

It's surprsing, I suppose, how long it takes to get to the theatrical performance, but this is a surprisingly linear film, plot-wise, setting up and executing the conceit with very little deviation. Yet it's very Mel Brooks somehow, even if his films don't usually show such focus. This very Jewish comedy about Nazis is full of grotesques, not least Max and Leo themselves. I knew that Gene Wilder was a good comedy actor but Zero Mostel, whom I've never previously seen in anything at all, acts him right off the set. We also have the parade of randy old ladies, the Nazi scriptwriter, and the camp director and his associate who perhaps show us how far we've come in LGBT+ representatives in cinema over the past half century.

This was 1967, though. I suppose it was somethging to have LGBT+ representation at all. And this film is a comedy triumph. Just the thing to prepare me for three whole evenings of soul-destroying interview prep...