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Mel Brooks’s essay on the US and the Jews is an American Jewish comedy. She was born on the kitchen table of a house in Brooklyn one hundred years ago in the same month that Marilyn Monroe made her entrance to the other side of the ocean. The son of European immigrants, Brooks was raised by his mother after his father died when Melvin was just two years old. He was a small, sickly child and the youngest of four siblings, perhaps because of his desire to be cared for. In the words of his friend Larry Gelbart: “Mel thought after he was kicked in the ass by the doctor who handed him over, and he hasn’t stopped doing anything since.”
As a teenager, Brooks’ favorite way to make noise was playing the drums and was taught the instrument by Buddy Rich. No one could have known at the time that both would have seismic effects on two of the great American arts: comedy and jazz. That young man, like many others, was confused by Adolf Hitler. Young Brooks joined the army and served in the Battle of the Bulge. If one is looking to understand the artist’s fearlessness or his total dedication to defying the Nazis for the rest of his days, those war years offer many explanations. It may also explain his statement that “comedy is different from death”.
On his return home, Brooks made a slow move into the commercial world by playing drums at the Borscht Belt resort in the Catskills to an audience that was almost exclusively his fellow Jews. When the usual joke is sick, he filled it and found a special joy in getting laughs from the audience. It wasn’t long before he was signed up to write for Your Show of Shows, Sid Caesar’s comedy show that is said to have assembled the largest comedy writing team in television history. It was on this series that Brooks met Carl Reiner and formed a personal and professional relationship that lasted until his death in 2020 at the age of 98.
The two started making jokes to entertain their friends, and at one point, Reiner asked what it was like to attend the crucifixion of Jesus Christ. So was the 2,000 Year Old Man born, perhaps one of the most basic of the comedy. These trends can be found in five albums recorded between 1960 and 1997 but the drama began in the 1950s, just a few years after the end of the second world war. Brooks’ humor and accent on the character were unabashedly Jewish, at a time when one would expect him to keep something well hidden. The worry he had on the double was that the nationals would be surprised – but such fears were allayed when Cary Grant told Brooks that he had played the song at Buckingham Palace much to the delight of the Queen Mother. In the words of Brooks: “If big education the world loves it, we are free at home.
If 2,000 Year Old Man was dangerous within walking distance of a war, then Brooks’ first film, The Producers, was dangerous. It would be tempting to say that such pride comes once in a lifetime but Brooks’ is not an ordinary life time and he followed a film about Broadway producers who found that they could make more money with a flop than a hit, finally settling on Springtime for Hitler: Gay Romp and Adolf and Evaden in Berchtes. Larry David, who produced an entire season of Curb Your Enthusiasm in tribute to The Producers, he is calling you “probably the most exciting background anyone has ever dreamed of”. The film came out in 1967, and some felt that the horror was fresh in the mind. One activist accused Brooks of saying: “I was in the second world war.” The answer? “I was too, I didn’t see you there.”
Brooks’ second effort, The Twelve Chairs, is perhaps the most understated film of his career and one that reflects a love of Russian literature that began when his friend Mel Tolkin lent him Nikolai Gogol’s Dead Souls during the Show of Shows years. But his next two films, Blazing Saddles and Young Frankenstein, proved that 1974 was a breakthrough year for Brooks, and ushered in a great era for comic books. It is telling that this art became more popular than the movies it destroys: the former were the richest westerns in history until Dances With Wolves in 1990.
Brooks continued to produce parodies in the 1980s and 1990s with diminishing returns. At times in the last half, however, it feels like his true calling has been Mel Brooks. This man never stopped breaking the fourth wall and embracing chaos, whether he was being honored by Barack Obama and pretending to pull down his pants, wearing an eleventh prosthetic finger while adding a handprint to the Hollywood Walk of Fame, or having the passion to show the madness of BBC The One Show in his 90’s. The final episode saw the show trying to move from lighthearted chatter to a story about a woman trying to track down her long-lost father. “What a crazy show,” Brooks said.
He made The Elephant Man, chose David Lynch as director and removed his name for fear that someone would think this was a joke. When management asked for a change, Brooks replied: “We’re in a different business. We showed you the movie, so you know what the business is like. No one can blame him for relying on his instincts: Brooks is one of 22 people in history to win an Oscar, Emmy, Grammy and Tony. Not bad for a guy with fart jokes.”
With Brooks, it all feels instinctive and scornful of death from a tragic teenager. A friend of mine met a taxi driver who boasted that he had his hero in the back of his cab on his way to a speech in London. When Brooks realized that the stadium was in love, he spoke all the words to one audience. Is there one person who has ever given himself so seriously to spread joy and make people laugh?
He is the son of immigrants who fought against the Nazis and eventually succeeded in all aspects of business. He is the American dream incarnate. Brooks may not live to be 2,000, but 100 years seemed impossible when he served in the 78th Infantry Division. When asked about the secret to longevity after a screening of Blazing Saddles I attended in London years ago, this icon of American entertainment offered some sage advice that he’s obviously been following: “Don’t die.”
