It's Good to Be the King: The Seriously Funny Life of Mel Brooks (29 page)

By the late summer of 1969, Mel and his company were headquartered in Belgrade. Michael Hertzberg, the assistant director on
The Producers
, was the new film’s producer. Like the supporting cast, many of the crew were recruited from England or Yugoslavia. Veteran cinematographer Djordje Nikolic proved to be a great boon to the production, giving the film its old-world, storybook look.

Brooks was thrilled to be able to bring this Eastern European story to the screen. “I’m a Russian Jew, and finally, I could bathe in everything Russian that’s in me.… I can’t tell you what it was like for me to make that picture in that country. I felt like I had come home. There are Russian textures of that in the film. Eating black bread. The shot of the borscht with the dollop of sour cream. I went there and said to myself, ‘Ah, it’s not Brooklyn: It’s Kiev!’ … That, and the emotionalism of being Russian.”

Mel was pleased with the favorable production deal made with the Yugoslav government: “For $450,000, we got everything—cameras, soldiers, and extras. There was no time limit. They wanted to keep as many of their film people busy, so we had a crew of about 1,000 milling around. I felt like David Lean filming
Lawrence of Arabia
.” The moviemaker related of his latest filmmaking experience, “The Yugoslav crew was very nice and helpful, but you had to be careful. One day in a fit of pique, I hurled my director’s chair into the Adriatic.… On all sides, angry voices were heard and clenched fists were raised. ‘The vokers,’ I was informed, ‘have announced to strike!’ ‘But why?’ ‘You have destroyed the People’s chair!’ ‘But it’s mine! It says Mel Brooks on it!’ ‘In Yugoslavia, everything is the property of the People.’ So we had a meeting, poured a lot of vodka, got drunk, started to cry and sing and kiss each other. Wonderful people!”

Dom DeLuise, who became a lifelong friend of Brooks’s on this shoot, said of Brooks, “Mel is not unenthusiastic about his work. If he saw a mountain, he’d say [for my character to], ‘Climb it.’ If he saw a brook, he would say, ‘Jump across it.’ If he saw a stone wall, he would say, ‘Bang your head into it.’” Frank Langella had a similar recollection of Brooks’s vitality on this celluloid project: “His energy was phenomenal. There was a tree in the way of a shot and he tried to pull the tree out of the ground. In one scene, I was supposed to row a boat through the moon’s reflection on the water. But the arc kept moving, so it appeared the moonlight was following us. Once, we got so far out to sea that they couldn’t find us. At 3 in the morning, Mel jumped into the water to swim out to find us.” Ron Moody found it a rewarding experience to work with Brooks: “I think he’s the only person living today who’s a direct link—an active direct link—with the golden age of comedy.”

Years later, Langella reminisced of this filmmaking experience in Yugoslavia, “Mel paid me about 45 cents to do the movie. It was a number so ridiculously low. We all lived in each other’s pockets for seven to nine months. We lived in a hotel where everything was rewired. If you picked up a phone, the lights shut off. But we were all together the whole time. We were a very tight, happy family. That’s an overused phrase, but it’s true.… I was 20-some-odd years old, waking up every morning in the presence of Mel and Dom, two of the truly funniest men on Earth. I don’t think I ever laughed as much on a film set, and I doubt I ever will again.… Everyone called me kid on that film, and I remember [the producer] Michael Hertzberg saying to me, ‘It ain’t all going to be like this, kid.’ ”

Because Brooks would be busy overseas for so many months on
The Twelve Chairs
, Bancroft arranged her work schedule (including an upcoming TV special) so she could spend extended periods in Yugoslavia with Mel. Besides providing her husband with moral support during the shoot, Bancroft prodded him to write the song he felt the picture needed. The bouncy yet fitting number was the cynical “Hope for the Best, Expect the Worst.” (As he had for
The Producers
and would for many pictures to come, the very talented John Morris provided the film’s sound track, as well as an arrangement for Mel’s number.) Reflecting Brooks’s relatively lighthearted mood on
The Twelve Chairs
set, a playful Mel coaxed his wife to appear briefly as an extra in a take of one scene as a practical joke on the film’s editor, Alan Heim.

By December 1969, principal photography on
The Twelve Chairs
had concluded. As was Mel’s then habit, the editing on this picture extended for several months into the new year. (Brooks reasoned, “I can never let a picture go, I think I could work on
Twelve Chairs
for the rest of my life. I spent a year of my life making that picture, I thought it was going to be my masterpiece.”) The resultant film was released in October 1970.

In comparing Brooks’s new offering to his first feature film, several critics pointed out the parallel of male bonding between two dishonest souls. But reviewers also noted technical dissimilarities between the two pictures:
The Producers
had a crude, in-your-face look, boasted high-energy performances, and was extremely fast-paced (until the anticlimactic segment following the “Springtime for Hitler” production number). Conversely, the lovingly photographed
The Twelve Chairs
, despite its many chase sequences, was far too leisurely paced even in its slapstick scenes. With the exception of Mel’s zesty misfit character, the figures in this Russian tale were not especially engaging or memorable (certainly in comparison to
The Producers’
Max Bialystock, Leo Bloom, Franz Liebkind, Roger De Bris, and even Ulla).

The serious comedy found a few boosters. Judith Crist (of NBC-TV) weighed in with: “
The Twelve Chairs
is a complete joy! A comedy to warm the heart and leave the ribs aching.”
Playboy
magazine judged that the movie “obeys no rules except those governing the lost art of pure comedy … cast of superlative clowns, led by Ron Moody, the memorable Fagin of
Oliver
!” Many critics suggested that Mel’s supporting performance was the real highlight of the picture—and in many ways it was. Sadly, his character appeared only briefly in the film.

The reaction of Pauline Kael (of the
New Yorker
) to
The Twelve Chairs
was, “It’s a bit forlorn, this attempt to make comedy out of old comedy that has lost its satirical bite.”
Variety
predicted that the new release had “doubtful mass appeal.” The trade paper’s prediction proved correct.
The Twelve Chairs
came and went rather quickly in distribution, leaving no trail of box-office profits.

The overall failure of Brooks’s second picture was especially bitter for Mel, who had put so much of his heart and soul into the literate project. (In years to come, Brooks rated
The Twelve Chairs, The Producers
, and
Life Stinks
as “the films I’m most proud of.”) He explained his strong attachment to this 1970 release: “When I wrote
The Producers
it was really a private story with universal features. Then I wrote
The Twelve Chairs,
and it was very private. You had to know about the Russian sensibility, from the muzhik to the czar, to appreciate
The Twelve Chairs
, even though the human aspects were once again universal. Both pictures deal with love and greed, but
The Producers
got a cult audience ... and
The Twelve Chairs
got an even smaller one. So if you were a Jewish intellectual whose parents had emigrated from Russia you could like my pictures, but there were hardly any of those in Amarillo, Texas, where you gotta play in one of their three or four theaters or else you’re outa luck.… You gotta get into one of the John Wayne houses or you ain’t never gonna break out and they ain’t gonna play you in a John Wayne house if you’re gonna do private ethnic stories, even though they do have ubiquitous human parallels.”

Over time, as the deep wounds to his pride slowly healed to some degree, he gained perspective from these two box-office misfires. “I was so fed up with my movies and my failure. I thought I had given the best of me, brilliantly, beautifully delivered, what I was exactly, the human being that I was… the Jew that I am, in both pictures, and they were not, to my mind, well received. I realized later why—because they were too private. What do Americans know about a coupla Jews on Broadway? What do they know about Russia?”

Now much less idealistic about his cinematic vision for future projects, Brooks vowed that if he ever gained the opportunity to make another film, it would be far more mainstream in subject matter. Equally important, he decided that, if at all possible, he would avoid the ego-satisfying temptation of writing any future screenplays alone. Thinking back to his salad days on
Your Show of Shows
and
Caesar’s Hour
, Mel appreciated anew the overall value of being able to test all his creative ideas with script collaborators, who could, hopefully, keep him and his developing screenplay on a better commercial course. In making this essential decision that played such a strong role in his future, Brooks reasoned, “I didn’t want to go back to the tables and risk another gambling session with my career.”

24
Back in the Running—Again

Nothing good comes out of going for the money. If you do something lovely from your heart, you might get lucky and make some money. But if it doesn’t come from your heart and soul, if you don’t believe in it from your fingertips to the tips of your toes, it’s not going to be good. You’ve got to do it because you love it.

–Mel Brooks, 2004

While Mel Brooks was filming
The Twelve Chairs
abroad and then editing his feature back in the United States, Anne Bancroft was preparing for a new television project. It was an hour-long special for CBS-TV, set to air on February 18, 1970. The program was titled
Annie
,
the Women in the Life of a Man
, and explored the many emotional facets of the contemporary female. It was directed by Martin Charnin and boasted the services of nine writers, including Gary Belkin, Herbert Sargent, Jacqueline Susann, Thomas Meehan, and Brooks. Jack Gould of the
New York Times
rated the sophisticated offering “a tour de force of such a multiplicity of charms, humor and talent that it is almost hard to believe.” As for its star (Bancroft), the critic judged, “Rightfully, she should be the toast of the country by tomorrow morning.” (Brooks was referred to in the
Times’s
critique as “Mel Brooks, the husband of Miss Bancroft.”) The special went on to win two Emmy Awards: Outstanding Variety or Musical Program and Outstanding Writing Achievement in Comedy, Variety or Music. Out of that TV pickup assignment Brooks became friendly with Thomas Meehan, and later the two writers would collaborate on several films (including
Spaceballs
) and stage projects (such as
The Producers
).

•     •     •

With his professional future largely in limbo, Brooks found himself faced with more than ample free time to indulge two of his major hobbies. To fill his many empty hours, he browsed through New York City bookstores in search of volumes of classical literature (especially Russian) to add to his growing library. Whenever he happened upon a knowledgeable salesclerk in these shops, he stopped to have a long conversation with him or her, eager to share his growing knowledge of good books. Often, he would return to such stores, hoping to engage the same bright clerks in further literary discussions.

Another interest of Mel’s (the former drummer) was expanding his collection of recordings. One day, Brooks had an encounter with a young customer at a basement shop on West 8th Street. Years later, the college student could still recall the incident vividly. “A short man appeared in the doorway above me, jacket thrown over his shoulders like a cape.… In a loud theatrical voice, he called out to the manager, asking if his records had come in. When he heard that they hadn’t, he was about to leave, when he looked down, noticed scripts under my arm and asked if I was an actor. I told him I was only a student and he said: ‘Would you like a quick lesson? I’ll show you 10 ways to smoke a cigarette—give me one.’

“He then proceeded to act out a series of freeze frames that would have done justice to the most emotive of silent film stars. He announced ‘anger’ and proceeded to puff away, smoke billowing, eyes glaring, jaw tensed, fists gripped, and body poised to fight.… He went on to fear, love, sadness, lust, embarrassment, etc. and in much too short a time was finished. He wished me luck as an actor and with a flourish, Mel Brooks turned and made his exit.”

•     •     •

In the midst of Mel’s latest career stall, there was a joyful personal event. On May 22, 1972, the Brookses became parents of a baby boy, who was baptized Maximilian Michael Brooks in honor of each parent’s father. Although neither Brooks nor Bancroft was especially religious, it was important to Anne to have her infant undergo a ritual celebrating his birth. The couple agreed that if Mel permitted Max to be baptized, then Anne would go along with the youngster being bar mitzvahed when he turned 13.

Bancroft said of becoming a mother, “We tried and tried and suddenly had Max when I was 41, the last possible moment. We should have called him ‘Nick’ for ‘in the nick of time.’ I was at the peak of my career and my looks, but I pulled back. Wanted to be with him. One of the perks of show business, a reason we go into it, is we don’t have to work every day—especially women. When you become a wife there are certain demands put on you. Work is important for a man’s identity. It’s not that important to women. They have a choice.” Later, in describing her parental responsibilities, she said, “During the time of Maximilian’s growing up, I did about one project a year. Before he went to school, he came with me wherever I went. Once he went to school, then I really had to cut it down to be available. You have to make those kinds of compromises. But that’s who I am. Other people might not have to make those deals.”

As for Brooks, now a father of four and already in his mid-40s, his elation at Max’s birth must have been tempered by many pressing concerns. He had to be speculating how he could best be there for his newborn child while not overlooking the three children from his first marriage. Then too, this new addition to the household must have caused Mel great worries of how he was going to properly support his expanded family.