Ryan McNeil
We’re shocked, we’re appalled, we’re aghast…and yet, we can’t stop laughing. We begin the scene like the man third from the right, and by the end, we’re more like woman in the second row on the left.
One of the things I love about comedy is the way it can take a terrible idea “on paper” and make it work. When executed well, it has a way of escaping the trappings of a subject and turning them to the advantage of the gag. For instance, as I mentioned earlier this week on a podcast, in theory there’s no way that Robert Downey Jr. in blackface should be funny…and yet he absolutely works it. Comedy, when done well, can even sidestep racism, sexism, and many other ism’s. Knowing this, Mel Brooks took aim at anti-Semitism.
Brooks doesn’t use anti-Semitism as the punchline in THE PRODUCERS: he doesn’t have to. By the time we hear the first notes of “Springtime for Hitler”, we’re already comfortably on-board for the shenanigans of Bialystock and Bloom. No, what Brooks does with the kick-lining Nazis is land a joke the film has been building up to in the most wonderful way. He unleashes something so absurd, so shocking, so distasteful, that like the audience in this shot, we too would stare with our mouths hanging open…
…if it weren’t so. damned. funny.
I’m somewhat remiss to say that I’ve never been a part of this sort of audience. I’ve never been witness to something so spectacularly bad, and only been able to stare with shock. I’ve heard about it happening (often at festivals, where people really don’t know what they’re getting into), but have never been part of a scene like what we see above.
By the time we get to this scene – and by extension, this moment – we haven’t heard a line from the show in question, not heard a note. All we know is that Bialystock and Bloom are aiming for “a sure-fire flop”. They need the show to open and close in one night. “What could possibly be that bad?” we ask ourselves. So when we finally get to see what they’ve bet on, it’s been stoked up so high that our cup of curiosity runneth over.
The orchestra strikes…
The lights come up…
The players begin to play…
…and we can’t believe our eyes or our ears.
It is in such shockingly bad taste (bonus points for the kick-line-swastika) that it is hysterical, with the visual of the aghast audience punctuating the joke perfectly. What it demonstrates is the difference between crafted comedy and “being funny”. A crafted comedy can land something this offensive; being funny will usually miss the mark, and with that, spark the offence.
Here’s three more from THE PRODUCERS for the road…
This series of posts is inspired by the “Hit Me With Your Best Shot” series at The Film Experience. Do check out all of the awesome entires in their series so far