It's Good to Be the King

by James Robert Parish

  Despite its limited commercial appeal, such picturemaking as 84 Charing Cross Road exemplified the finer artistic qualities within Mel. He also found it reassuring that these films struck a responsive chord with his public.

  One day in winter 1987, Brooks attended the funeral of an entertainment industry notable in Los Angeles. There was quite a celebrity turnout, including Barbra Streisand, Bette Midler, and Shirley MacLaine. At the service, Mel was seated next to Jeanette Etheridge, who owned a hip cafe in San Francisco and who mingled with the show business crowd. Etheridge recalled her conversation with Brooks at the event. “And I lean over to him and say, ‘You know I think you’re wonderful, and I just love your movies.’ And he looks at me with an absolutely straight face and says, ‘We’re at a funeral.’ And I think, Oh my god, what have I done? Because he’s right. We are at a funeral. And then he leans over and says, ‘Which one did you like the best?’”

  28

  A Nighty Monarch at Last

  I was the baby and I always expected to be the king of France because I was treated like the king of France. I’m still waiting for my crown.

  –Mel Brooks, 1971

  While Mel Brooks was launching Brooksfilms in the late 1970s, he had not forgotten his obligations to his fan base nor to his distributor, Twentieth Century-Fox, to prepare a new personal screen project for release—one in the same vein as his past film genre satires. In searching for a fresh subject to lampoon, it occurred to Brooks that since his alter ego, the 2000 Year Old Man, intimately knew so much about history and its many notable figures, why not a Brooksian excursion that romped madly through several eras of civilization? The filmmaker reasoned that there would be many delicious targets to skewer as the episodic celluloid chronicle dipped in and out of various eras of mankind’s progress through the ages. (If Mel had any reservations about this concept being overly ambitious—and more than a bit unadventurous in its dependence on a satirical formula that, admittedly, had been so successful for him in the past—he kept them to himself.)

  This essentially unwieldy notion led Mel to ponder, “Where do you start? Well, I guess you start where history starts—somewhere back in prehistoric times. Who lived there then? What did they say to each other? What did they eat? Whom did they kiss? When did the first artist appear?” He then questioned, “What part of history should I do? Would the audience go for a film that had many stories rather than one? I needed mortar and glue to put the whole thing together. Something big. Orson Welles, I thought. He’s big! He’ll be the mortar—the narrator/’

  Thus was born 1981’s History of the World: Part I. In preproduction, Brooks, the consummate self-promoter, touted that this vehicle would be “the height of my vulgarity/’ He reasoned, “The worst thing you can be accused of is good taste.” On this particular cinema showcase he avoided utilizing a writing group, choosing to go it alone as scriptwriter. (Mel’s violation of his early 1970s decision always to create film projects in tandem with others may have been inspired by a wish to save on the production budget. He could also just have wanted to give himself more artistic freedom to indulge his own scriptwriting ideas unadulterated by anyone else’s thoughts, and, if the results were successful, then to enjoy the attendant glory all on his own.)

  Mel explained his gestation process in preparing a screenplay: “I write for a long time before I get around to shooting. I pass my stuff around for reaction. I pass each chapter around. My wife sees it first. Then my friend Joe Heller. Then the girl that works in the candy shop.” He pointed out, “You’ve got to let the chips fall where they may. You’ve got to be guileless. You can’t do it for critics. I fought for an R rating for History of the World. [His last R-rated feature had been 1974’s Blazing Saddles.] The kids want you to go all the way. They’re not middle-aged people who sit home and watch television all the time. They want bravery, honesty, no compromise.”

  Brooks assembled several members of his moviemaking stock company: Sid Caesar (as the chief caveman), Madeline Kahn (as Empress Nympho), Dom DeLuise (as Emperor Caesar), Cloris Leachman (as Madame DeFarge), Harvey Korman (as Count de Monet), Howard Morris (as the Court spokesman), Ron Carey (as Swiftus, the agent), and Andreas Voutsinas (as Bernaise); Brooks’s frequent writing team (Ron Clark, Rudy DeLuca, and Barry Levinson) provided cameos. Brooks also brought together several veteran comedic talents (including Shecky Greene, Jackie Mason, Jack Carter, Jan Murray, Bea Arthur, Sammy Shore, and Charles Callas) for choice on-camera bits in this costume comedy. Mel even recruited Playboy empire founder Hugh Hefner (and several of his Playboy Bunnies) to make brief on-camera appearances.

  Originally, Brooks had intended the key role of Josephus, the black slave, to be played by Richard Pryor. However, Pryor had recently been severely injured when he accidentally set himself ablaze while freebasing cocaine. Richard was replaced in History of the World: Part I by the skilled tap dancer Gregory Hines, who made his feature film acting debut in this picture. For good measure, Brooks allotted himself five (!) major roles in the big-screen proceedings: Moses, Comicus (the Roman comedian), Torquemada (the Grand Inquisitor of the 15th-century Spanish Inquisition), Jacques (the pissoir boy in the French Revolution sequence), and France’s randy and self-absorbed King Louis XVI (who’d rather seduce tempting courtesans than heed the needs and demands of his oppressed subjects).

  History of the World: Part I began its 16-week production schedule on May 5, 1980, with some of the film being lensed in England at the Shepperton Studio. Said Brooks of his directing chores: “It’s a lot of fun. But I won’t say its not a lot of grueling hard work—getting up at 4:30 A.M., then working a 12-hour day, then staying until 9 P.M. rehearsing with the actors or plotting the next day’s moves. It’s very physically demanding.” He acknowledged, “Your temperament is very critical. The director that sulks destroys the mood of the entire set. So no matter what horror I run into, I try never to be petulant. I’m up. I’m positive. When things are going badly, when you’re stuck in the rain on a location and the mud is getting up to your knees and you haven’t shot for four hours and it’s getting colder and you know that you may have to start lighting and shoot into the night and everyday is miserable, that’s when I do my ‘2000-year-old man’ routine or I do some improvisation with the cast and get them all in a good mood.”

  One of Brooks’s inspirations for his diverse acting assignments in this frolic through history came from the screen comedy Roman Scandals. That 1933 musical had starred Mel’s lifelong show business idol, Eddie Cantor. According to Brooks, “When I played ‘Comicus’ in the Roman scenes of my film History of the World: Part I, I thought of myself as Eddie Cantor. I wore the short little toga and I made my eyes pop out in reactions, like he did. My ‘Comicus’ was a tribute to Eddie Cantor. He was my timing, my excitement.”

  The most costly sequence within History of the World: Part I was the Spanish Inquisition segment. The elaborate set for this section of the episodic movie cost close to $1 million. The footage focused on Jews being tortured in all sorts of gruesome ways in order to make them convert to Christianity. When all else fails, the cruel Torquemada (played by an ebullient Brooks) summons a throng of seemingly virtuous nuns to deal with the thorny situation. In short order, the young women strip off their religious habits, revealing that they are wearing bathing suits underneath. They then begin an elaborate exhibit of synchronized swimming, during which the Jewish victims are tossed in the waters and subjected to the sadistic whims of the tormenting nuns. (Alan Johnson choreographed this intricate production extravaganza in the manner of 1930s movie director Busby Berkeley.)

  As the ballast for this major section of the film, Mel collaborated with his longtime friend and coworker Ronny Graham on the music and lyrics for “The Inquisition,” to which Brooks and his chorus of monks perform a song and dance. However shocking, unsavory, and over-the-top the tasteless showpiece might have been, the controversial ensemble piece was a memorable showstopper.

  If Mel’s Moses gave no compe
tition to Charlton Heston (the star of the 1956 The Ten Commandments movie epic), Brooks was far more entertaining on camera than Heston as the revered Biblical figure. In Mel’s account of the Hebrew leader, Moses is the bungler who accidentally drops 5 of the 15 commandments that God had provided on stone tablets and has to make do with the remaining 10. Brooks also shone as the hyperactive Comicus, the Las Vegas-style stand-up comic of ancient Rome who is ordered to give a command performance for the Emperor at Caesar’s palace.

  In the well-mounted French Revolution sequence, Mel borrowed from his Blazing Saddles characterization of the leering Governor William J. LePetomane. Brooks proved to be an exceptionally bawdy French monarch, a lustful despot who finds great delight in ogling the tantalizing cleavage of his lovely female subjects. For this supremely self-centered ruler, there is ample evidence for him to constantly repeat, “It is good to be the king.” (This bit of dialogue from History of the World: Part I became very closely associated with Brooks, especially after he recorded a rap record titled “It’s Good to Be the King.” The single, with its comical couplets written by composer Peter Wingfield, rose to the #67 position on the Billboard music charts.) Also in this extended 18th-century segment, Brooks was able to indulge his penchant for playing screen heroes by portraying the king’s look-alike, Jacques the lowly servant, who is willing to bravely sacrifice all for a lovely damsel in distress (played by Pamela Stephenson).

  Brooks described his editing process on this feature: “After I finish shooting, I take all the secretaries at the studio to a sneak preview. I showed them a two-hour, 20-minute rough cut of the picture. I had 11 of these screenings. I let them cut the picture for me. I note the places where they smile or laugh and where they smoke or start chattering.… Then I screen the picture for the audience it’s designed for, which is about 90 percent kids between the ages of 14 and 19. It’s kids 15 years old that are keeping the movie business alive, kids that if they like a picture like Star Wars they’ll go see it six times. It’s all repeat business.… I’m not interested in people over 40. They never go to the movies. When they do go, they complain about the parking lot, the driving, things like that. Kids go to see the picture. They don’t worry about the setting.”

  Released in June 1981, History of the World: Part I did not win many endorsements from the reviewers. Janet Maslin (of the New York Times) assessed, “Part of the problem with History of the World: Part I is that it’s tired, so tired that the cheerful outrageousness of Mr. Brooks’s earlier films has become waxen. The jokes often recall The Producers and particularly Blazing Saddles, but never are they as bold as they were the first time around.” For Maslin, the coming attractions for the picture and a commercial for Part II that closed the current movie were far more hilarious. “That’s because many of Mr. Brooks’s comic ideas here are better glimpsed as snippets than as 20-minute routines.” (The trailer tacked onto the end of History of the World: Part I was a satire on film industry practices of making endless sequels to a hit picture. The footage contained bits of the supposed planned follow-up to Brooks’s epic. It included scenes from “Hitler on Ice,” which allowed Mel, once again, to lampoon der Führer and reduce him to a comic skating figure. There was also a burlesque of outer galaxy movies and their intricate, mammoth spacecraft. For this sequence, “Jews in Space,” Brooks wrote the music and lyrics for its title song.)

  Roger Ebert (of the Chicago Sun-Times) complained that Brooks’s new release was “a rambling, undisciplined, sometimes embarrassing failure from one of the most gifted comic filmmakers around. What went wrong? Brooks never seems to have a clear idea of the rationale of his movie. So there’s no confident narrative impetus to carry it along. His ‘history’ framework doesn’t have an approach or point of view; it’s basically just a laundry-line for whatever gags he can hang on it.”

  Compounding the poor critical reception to History of the World: Part I, Twentieth Century-Fox had previously undergone a change of regimes, and Mel’s industry pal Alan Ladd Jr. was no longer in charge on the film lot. The new administration did not have great faith in the way Brooks’s new picture had shaped up and allotted it a particularly unspectacular ad campaign. Even worse, the movie opened in only 484 theaters domestically (which reinforced what the studio thought of the film’s chances to succeed with 1980s moviegoers). With such hurdles to overcome, the expensively produced History of the World: Part I grossed only $20 million domestically (a far lesser amount than Young Frankenstein, which had cost far less to make). However, Brooks still managed to emerge from the thorny situation a financial winner.

  Before this picture had gone into production, Brooks had met with Alan J. Hirschfield, the new head of production at Twentieth Century-Fox. Mel made the executive an offer. He told Hirschfield, “You are going to give me $10 million to make History of the World: Part I. I am not going to take any fees. But you are going to give me all the foreign rights.” When Hirschfield said no, it prompted Mel to take more creative steps. “I said I was going to call the Wall Street Journal and tell them I was selling all my stock in 20th Century-Fox because I had no faith in the current management.” (At the time, Brooks insisted later, he did not have one share of studio stock.) The Fox boss then agreed to the deal, which included giving Mel TV and home entertainment rights abroad to this feature. As a result, even though the picture had disappointed critics and moviegoers alike, the filmmaker made more money from History of the World: Part I than from any other picture he had done to that date. The movie grossed about $35 million abroad, leaving Mel’s Brooksfilms with a $7 million profit.

  • • •

  Following the release of History of the World: Part I, it was rumored anew that Brooks and Gene Wilder might reunite for a new picture. That reteaming never took place, nor did Mel’s participation as a producer for a projected musical (One of the Boys at the Globe Is a Girl) by Brooks’s longtime pal Ronny Graham. Meanwhile, in late 1981, Anne Bancroft co-starred with Max Von Sydow on the Broadway stage in Duet for One. That drama closed after a mere 20 performances.

  Together again in Los Angeles, Mel and Anne thrived on spending time with their son, Max. (Bancroft noted, “The best time of the day is when the family comes together at about 7 o’clock. We sit down to dinner and Max comes in and eats with us and we sit and talk and are a family from 7 on.… Coming together as a family is one of the great rewards of life and of having a family.”) For recreation, the Brookses (especially Mel) enjoyed playing tennis. Occasionally, the couple had a night out on the town, such as going to the Tail o’ the Cock restaurant in Studio City to hear Johnny Guarnieri perform at the piano. When Brooks’s friend Joseph Heller was diagnosed as suffering from Guillain-Barré syndrome, Mel made trips back to New York to give emotional support (and his medical opinions on the writer’s serious ailment).

  Mel’s Brooksfilms had two pictures (My Favorite Year and Frances) in distribution in 1982, and Brooks hoped to have his production company make a screen version of Toni Morrison’s novel Tar Baby. He was also negotiating with South African playwright Athol Fugard to write an epic film about apartheid. Although this project did not happen, it reflected Brooks’s point of view in selecting serious subjects for his firm to undertake. “Any time we see a flag about the human condition that appeals to us, we’re going to see if we can’t surround it with the right help and nourishment.” To Brooks’s way of thinking, “One of the purposes of art is to make things right that are eternally wrong. And the job of the artist is to paint a picture of life as truly and honestly as he sees it and add that extra dimension of hope, and of fantasy, and of dream.”

  • • •

  Back in 1942, Ernst Lubitsch had produced/directed To Be or Not to Be, a very dark comedy about Adolf Hitler’s occupation of Poland during World War II and how a troupe of actors in Warsaw join with the underground to outwit the Nazis. The well-mounted feature costarred Jack Benny and Carole Lombard. Weeks before the picture was released, Lombard died in a plane crash while returning to Los A
ngeles following a hugely successful war bond sale tour. That tragedy dampened moviegoers’ enthusiasm for seeing To Be or Not to Be. The lack of audience interest in the “comedy” was heightened by the film’s highly controversial subject matter—lampooning the German dictator and his reign of terror. Most American moviegoers were focused on winning World War II and did not find the picture’s story line anything to laugh about.

  Over subsequent decades, To Be or Not to Be—through frequent TV showings and art house revivals—became a cult favorite, appreciated for its comedic approach and the famous Lubitsch style. In 1974, the classic film was screened to great success at a Los Angeles film festival. By late the next year, industry publications were reporting that Mel Brooks and Anne Bancroft were considering teaming on camera for a remake of To Be or Not to Be.

  With other projects intervening, it took until the fall of 1982 for the new To Be or Not to Be to move into actual production. Many months before, Mel had hired Ronny Graham to collaborate with Thomas Meehan on updating the 1942 script. (Meehan was the writer who had worked with Brooks and Bancroft on her 1970 TV special. Since then, he had won a Tony Award for writing the book of the hit Broadway musical Annie.) Brooks looked forward to the challenge of taking on the screen role in which Jack Benny, another of Mel’s great show business inspirations, had made such a lasting impression. The project also provided Brooks with yet another opportunity to take creative potshots at Hitler (including portraying the German leader in a comedic song-and-dance number in the play within the movie).