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Film review

The Producers: Filmflam

The anticipated film leaves something to be desired - like a couple of great songs and jokes.

By STEVE PERSALL
Published December 25, 2005

[Photo: Universal Studios]

Uma Thurman plays the sexy Swedish secretary of producers Nathan Lane, left, and Matthew Broderick as they try to create a Broadway show that’s bound to flop.

Where Did We Go Right? is a song missing from the movie version of the Broadway musical version of Mel Brooks' 1968 comedy, The Producers. It's a catchy number sung by shysters attempting to stage a profitable flop titled Springtime for Hitler, lamenting the fact they've inadvertently created a hit that will send them to prison.

The deletion isn't the only reason why this splashy reincarnation is marginally disappointing. Perhaps expectations are too high, the chances of a new movie musical classic seeming too sure-fire.

The Producers quickly douses that notion, although what remains is still entertaining. This material is so rich, the lyrics so wickedly clever, that failure really isn't possible. But it has been tamed into something more palatable to the masses, making it unsatisfying. It probably won't encourage many viewers to seek out legitimate theater, in the way films often steer people to books.

I love the 1968 movie starring Zero Mostel as lecherous Max Bialystock and Gene Wilder as his accountant-accomplice Leo Bloom. Seeing those roles transformed on Broadway by Nathan Lane and Matthew Broderick is a cherished memory. The cast recording stayed in my CD player for weeks. Last year's touring company stop in Tampa confirmed the show's greatness, even without star power.

But the musical question sung now is: Where did The Producers go wrong?

Start with the hiring of Susan Stroman as director. She earned one of the stage version's record-setting 12 Tony awards but isn't gifted in the boundless medium of cinema. The Producers is terribly flat on screen, with long, static shots and unimaginative use of Manhattan locations. It's one level above simply filming a St. James Theatre performance, and several below the vibrant screen reimaginings of Rent and Chicago.

Stroman's stage was fuller than her screen. Max seducing investors with Along Came Bialy was a showstopper on stage, with horny old ladies swinging on trapezes, flipping on trampolines and tap-dancing with walkers. Movies were invented for such kinetic fun. Stroman dumps everything but the walkers, which wind up symbolizing her film's occasional creakiness.

Brooks and co-writer Thomas Meehan erred by deleting several of the play's best gags and two songs, including Where Did We Go Right? The other omission is a grave mistake: King of Old Broadway is Max's introduction as someone hilarious who can't be trusted. Now we go directly from the song Opening Night, when Max's latest production fails, to Leo knocking on his office door. It took a while for an advance screening audience to warm up to Lane's performance, and the missing song is why.

Brooks must have assumed middle America wouldn't appreciate jokes about Broadway classics, backstage egos and Yiddish. King of Old Broadway bundles all three. Removing it is a decision that won't be appreciated by moviegoers who would get those jokes and other punch lines that were left out. When did the artist who made Blazing Saddles and Silent Movie become so cautious?

If the filmmakers were determined to de-Broadway the movie, a better place to begin would be having the actors tone down, rather than playing to balcony seats that aren't there. Lane is a pro who knows how to pull back; nobody could out-excess Mostel, anyway. Uma Thurman as the producers' sexy Swedish secretary Ulla has a strong voice and no experience playing stage-broad, so she's fine.

Tony winner Gary Beach is the riot we're expecting as flamboyantly gay director Roger De Bris. Predictably, the best sequence in the film is Springtime for Hitler with his swishing portrayal of Der Fuhrer, with his creativity tune Keep It Gay as a close second. Roger Bart's campy turn as De Bris' assistant Carmen Ghia is constantly amusing. Their affectionately stereotypical roles deserve chewed scenery.

However, Broderick's nerdy Leo is still too extremely mannered, with each whine, gulp and tic calculated to a degree the screen exposes as overacting.

Will Ferrell as the Nazi playwright Franz Liebkind is dream casting that doesn't work. He's given free rein to punch up lines that don't need it, overestimating himself like a party drunk telling lame jokes. Loud isn't funny in either case.

Maybe we'll need to admit that bringing The Producers back to the screen never had a chance to excel, for reasons of comparison to its predecessors, and for a crucial thematic reason.

Brooks created Max and Leo's predicament as a love letter to Broadway. Stroman, working with a script diluting theater references, can't return the compliment to Hollywood. She tries by imitating vintage musicals, but those aren't particularly memorable without Fred Astaire, Gene Kelly or Judy Garland. Nobody's in that league here, but supposedly shrewd backers figure it's worth a shot. The Producers winds up as something like Springtime for Hitler: a can't-miss proposition that can.

- Seve Persall can be reached at 727 893-8365 or persall@sptimes.com

Grade: B-

Director: Susan Stroman

Cast: Nathan Lane, Matthew Broderick, Uma Thurman, Will Ferrell, Gary Beach, Roger Bart, Jon Lovitz

Screenplay: Mel Brooks, Thomas Meehan, based on their stage musical

Rating: PG-13; suggestive humor, profanity

Running time: 130 min.

[Last modified December 22, 2005, 11:52:04]