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The Mel Brooks Collection Blu-ray
Blazing Saddles / High Anxiety / History of the World Part 1 / Robin Hood: Men in Tights / Silent Movie / Spaceballs / To Be or Not to Be / Twelve Chairs / Young Frankenstein 20th Century Fox | 969 mins | Not rated | Dec 15, 2009
The Mel Brooks Collection Blu-ray Review“It’s good to be the king.”Reviewed by Casey Broadwater, December 15, 2009 Mention him in casual conversation and you'll likely find yourself playing a verbal ping-pong game of movie quotes, serving up volley after volley of zingy one-liners, ba-dum-ching- worthy puns, and absurdist curveballs that could only come from America's long-reigning king of comedy, the patriarch of parody, the sultan of satire: Mel Brooks. Over his fifty-year career, Brooks has built a reputation for spoofing Hollywood conventions and, in his best work, using notoriously lowbrow comedy to point out some high truths about human nature. Along the way he's garnered heaps of praise and joined an elite echelon of showbiz superstars who have won an Emmy, an Oscar, a Grammy, and a Tony. And just last week he was awarded a lifetime achievement award at the Kennedy Center Honors. It's a fitting time, then, for 20th Century Fox to release The Mel Brooks Collection on Blu-ray. And really, this is quite a collection. Joining Blazing Saddles, Young Frankenstein, and Spaceballs, which have already made it into the Blu-ray library—and are included here with identical discs to their individual releases—the set also features the Blu-ray debuts of six other Mel Brooks classics: The Twelve Chairs, Silent Movie, High Anxiety, History of the World Part I, To Be or Not To Be, and Robin Hood: Men in Tights. I have a feeling this review will exhaust my thesaurus' supply of synonyms for hilarious.
The Twelve Chairs (6/10) "Hope for the best, expect the worst!" After the smashing success of The Producers—which is sadly not included in this collection, for rights reasons, presumably—Mel Brooks' sophomore effort was The Twelve Chairs, based on a Russian novel about three men trekking all across the countryside trying to find a trove of jewels hidden inside a dining room chair. Wedged between the monumental comedic masterpieces of The Producers and Blazing Saddles, The Twelve Chairs has become somewhat of a lost gem itself. The plot is almost distractingly simple, and the film is neither as uproariously funny nor as slyly subversive as Brooks' later efforts, but there's still a lot to love here, and The Twelve Chairs certainly serves as a precursor to the zany, madcap comedy to come. It's also the first time that Brooks put himself in front of the camera—he plays a drunk janitor, seemingly in love with his former master—a tradition that would continue throughout his career in extended cameos that are often the funniest bits of his films. The story begins with a surprisingly dour prologue. Former Russian aristocrat Ippolit Matveevich Vorobyaninov (Ron Moody), now a sullen and insolvent bureaucrat in the newly established Soviet Union, is summoned to the deathbed of his dead wife's mother, who confides that she hid the family jewels in the cushion of one of the chairs in a 12-piece dining set at the palatial estate they occupied before the revolution. The comedy doesn't begin until Ippolit accidentally puts a "cancelled" notice on his now-deceased mother-in-law's cheek with the rubber stamp he's been carrying around. Inflamed with greed, Ippolit sets off for his former house, unaware that Father Fyodor (Dom DeLuise), the Russian Orthodox priest who heard the old woman's final confession, has gone apostate and is also questing for the jewels. Through a series of hoodwinks, dashing con-artist Ostap Bender (a young Frank Langella) teams up with Ippolit—he threatens to notify the police if Ippolit doesn't cut him in on the action—and the two hunt down records of the chairs at the Bureau of Housing. Unfortunately, the chairs have been dispersed throughout the motherland, which requires the unlikely duo to criss-cross the country in order to find them all. Meanwhile, Ostap sends Father Fyodor on a wild goose chase in Siberia, though the pugnacious priest is always quick to catch up. When the final chair is tracked down, in the lavishly appointed Moscow Railway Workers' Communal House of Recreation, our materialistic protagonists learn the hard way that life is in the living, not the having. Compared to the out-and-out insanity of Blazing Saddles and most of Brooks' other films to follow, The Twelve Chairs is almost incongruously subtle. There are the expected dashes of wackiness, including several sped-up chase scenes and nearly every instance where the deliriously funny Dom DeLuise is onscreen, but the pairing of Ron Moody and Frank Lengella is fairly tame. Langella has always reminded me here of a much less psychotic version of Malcolm McDowell in A Clockwork Orange; he's got a kind of self-assured swagger and a method of line delivery that veers toward sarcastic, even when he's not. Moody doesn't have much to do but look fiercely greedy. And really, greed is the only thing driving the plot, aside from a few jabs at overwrought Soviet bureaucracy. However, when the film is funny, it's very funny. Dom DeLuise throws himself into this role with gut-busting physicality, once snagging his crotch on a picket fence and later flailing uncontrollably across the room as he tries to convince a Siberian couple to give him their dining chairs. And though his screen time amounts to only about 10 minutes, Mel Brooks is perfect as Ippolit's former janitor, professing his love for his one-time master every time Ippolit smacks him across the face. Though it's not as well known as Blazing Saddles, Young Frankenstein, or even High Anxiety, The Twelve Chairs certainly has its fans, who value the film for being noticeably less vulgar and potentially offensive than some of Brooks' later films.  Blazing Saddles (10/10) "What's a dazzling young urbanite like you doing in a rustic setting like this?" I was about twelve the first time I caught a highly content-edited version of Blazing Saddles on television. A lot of the jokes obviously went whizzing through the then-blank space between my ears, but I remember laughing uproariously at Mongo sucker-punching the horse, the infamous campfire fart scene, and at the general Looney Toons level of insanity on display—complete with quicksand, fast-forward fight scenes, and an Acme-inspired exploding candy-gram. It wasn't until I was quite a bit older that I caught on to the film's subversive elements, the way it toys with staples of the Western genre, goes hog-wild in its unhinging of stereotypes and, as Gene Wilder puts it, "smashes racism in the face." On the surface, Blazing Saddles is many things— scatological, puerile, and just plain ridiculous—but it also knows precisely where it stands, and behind every slapstick moment there's a gleam of teeth and a not-so-subtle wink. This was a bold film in 1974, for many reasons, and in a few crucial ways it seems even more shocking today. If you've never seen Blazing Saddles (are there any of you out there?), the year is 1874, or 1974 in 1874, as Mel Brooks describes it, and an expanding railroad operation has run into quicksand. State Procurer Hedy, I mean, Hedley Lamarr (Harvey Korman) hatches a scheme to divert the railway through the podunk town of Rock Ridge, an inbred burg where everybody's last name is Johnson. Intending to scare off the townsfolk so he can buy up their land on the cheap, he convinces cross-eyed, doofus Governor William J. LePetomane (Mel Brooks) to hire the country's first black sheriff to police the town. Black Bart (a suave Cleavon Little) rides into Rock Ridge on a horse with Gucci saddlebags and, despite a heavy dose of race hate from its citizens, sets up shop in the town's sheriff office. Nearly comatose in the drunk tank is Jim (Gene Wilder), the one-time "Waco Kid," a former gunslinger who lost his steady hand in a bout with the bottle. When Hedley assembles a rag tag crew of "rustlers, cutthroats, murderers, bounty hunters, desperadoes, mugs, pugs, thugs, nitwits, half-wits, dimwits, vipers, snipers, con men, Indian agents, Mexican bandits, muggers, buggerers, bushwhackers, hornswagglers, horse thieves, bull dykes, train robbers, bank robbers, ass kickers, shit kickers and Methodists" to scare off the moronic townspeople, Bart and Jim devise a plan to save Rock Ridge. The film's climactic battle bursts quite literally through the fourth wall, and the two amigos obliterate one final cliché as they ride off into the sunset. None of this is important, and the skeletal plot only serves as a frame on which to hang the film's shaggy coat of comedy. Re-watching Blazing Saddles, I laughed more and harder than during just about all of the studio comedies I've seen in the past few years. While the farting scene wasn't nearly as funny as when I was twelve, keep in mind that Blazing Saddles was the first major movie to feature outright flatulence. It's easy to take that for granted in an age when gross-out humor is the norm. The performances—across the board—are zany, madcap takes on characters we've all seen before. Harvey Korman's Hedley is so devilish and conspiratorial you can practically envision him twirling a greasy mustache as a damsel lies tied before him to the tracks. Madeline Khan (in an Oscar-nominated performance) slumps across the screen as Lili Von Schtüp, the tired, Teutonic Titwillow, a sly parody of a de-sexed and disinterested Marlene Deitrich. And embodying every cowboy cliché imaginable, Slim Pickens and Burton Gilliam wrap their mouths around some seriously hate-filled dialogue with hammy, in- the- know showmanship. Blazing Saddles holds back very little, and some of the film's racially insensitive language may cause modern viewers to cringe. We're simply not used to hearing derogatory titles thrown about so carelessly, even in jest. The rightfully dreaded "N" word makes no less than 17 appearances in the film, and I can think of no contemporary productions that could get away with this, with the telling exception of The Dave Chappelle Show. As most of you remember, Dave Chappelle abruptly abandoned his massively successful sketch program after coming to the realization that some people were laughing at his racially charged skits for all the wrong reasons. Subversive comedy walks a fine line, and Blazing Saddles is no different. We're clearly meant to view the film's townsfolk as intolerant bigots and buffoons, but there will always be a minority of viewers who simply can't or won't understand how the film attempts to undercut racism. In some ways, Blazing Saddles seems like a precursor to the many multi-racial buddy movies we've seen in the years since—from Dawn of the Dead and Lethal Weapon, to Rush Hour and Harold and Kumar. Cleavon Little and Gene Wilder are my favorite pairing, though, mostly because their partnership seems grounded in genuine affection and understanding. Both actors deliver timeless, inimitable performances in what, to this day, is a timeless and inimitable film. There may be many comedies, but there's only one Blazing Saddles.  Young Frankenstein (10/10) "Destiny! Destiny! No escaping that for me!" In one of the greatest one-two punches in the history of comedy, Mel Brooks followed up Blazing Saddles with the wildly different but equally hilarious Young Frankenstein, an affectionate ribbing of the Universal Frankenstein films of the '30s and '40s. The premise of the film—Dr. Frankenstein's grandson is a reputable scientist who falls into the same trap of maniacal medical tinkering—was suggested to Brooks by Gene Wilder, and together, the two cranked out a screenplay that was both an homage and a parody, filled with the same sort of punning, sometimes nonsensical, and endlessly quotable humor that made Blazing Saddles such an instant audience hit. Yet, Young Frankenstein shows Brooks maturing as filmmaker—if mature is the right word for a director who routinely makes raspberry fart noises during casual conversation. With the western to end all westerns under his belt, Brooks' take on the classic horror genre feels studied and self-assured, less Looney Toons and more Groucho Marx. It's also visually masterful, replicating the look of 1930s horror down to authentic props created by Ken Strickfaden, who engineered the Tesla-influenced laboratory in 1931's Frankenstein. Along with co-writing the film, Gene Wilder stars as Dr. Frederick Frankenstein ("It's pronounced Fronkensteen."), a brilliant neurologist who wants to escape the legacy of lunacy left by his grandfather Victor, the infamous grave-robbing mad scientist. When he inherits the family estate, Frankenstein travels to Transylvania to check out his new castle, where he meets Marty Feldman as Igor ("It's pronounced Eye-gore."), buxom blond lab assistant Inga (Teri Garr), and housemaid Frau Blücher (Cloris Leachman), whose very name sends horses whinnying uncontrollably. What follows is a clever mishmash of plot points from the first four Frankenstein films. After the sound of a mysterious violin leads him to a secret library, Frankenstein finds his grandfather's book—entitled How I Did It—which holds the secret to reanimating the dead. Unable to resist the temptation, Frankenstein digs up a fresh corpse, sends Igor to fetch a brain (naturally, he grabs the one labeled "abnormal"), and brings the monster (Peter Boyle) to life. Of course, the monster escapes and wanders about, having comical interactions with a little girl and, later, Gene Hackman in a brilliant cameo as a blind hermit. When Frankenstein finally captures the monster and presents him to the suspicious public, a mob is formed, but not before we get the now-iconic scene of Gene Wilder and Peter Boyle doing a harebrained soft-shoe routine to "Puttin' on the Ritz." Young Frankenstein is something of a comedic perfect storm, where every element of the production comes together to create a whole that's unstoppably funny. And it all starts with the attention to genre detail—the convincing sets, the harsh lighting, and the creaky score by John Morris that's filled with mournful gypsy violin. The jokes are that much more effective simply because Brooks creates a believable world. If it weren't for the non-stop gags, you could totally buy Young Frankenstein as another entry in the Universal classic horror canon. While the comedy here may not be as subversive as that in Blazing Saddles, it's just as potent. There's just so much memorable material here that it's nearly impossible to pick one gag out to discuss. Much of the humor is both verbal and physical, as when Igor meets Frankenstein at the train station and tells him to "walk this way." While we initially assume Igor means, "walk in this direction," it quickly becomes clear that he's actually commanding Frankenstein to "walk like this" and imitate his hunched, lopsided gait. Bawdy, mildly risqué humor runs rampant, with double entendres that may take a second or so to sink in. And the performances are unparalleled. Madeline Kahn shows up as Frankenstein's fiancé and basically sings an aria when she's seduced by the 7-foot-tall monster and his proportional, um, member. Gene Hackman is great, even if he is nearly unrecognizable as the bearded hermit. Surrounding characters like Kenneth Mars' wooden-armed Inspector Kemp are memorable and bizarre. But it's the comedic trio of Gene Wilder, Marty Feldman, and Peter Boyle—all in top form here—that cement Young Frankenstein as an enduring classic, so much so, that in 2003 the Library of Congress deemed the film "culturally, historically, or aesthetically" important enough for induction.  Silent Movie (7/10) "Gee boss, I don't know if a studio will go for a silent film in this day and age." Who else but Mel Brooks would conspire to make a movie about the making of a silent movie — with a plot that mirrors his own efforts to get Silent Movie greenlit—as a silent movie? If it sounds like a deliriously postmodern meta-film, a reflection on the business of moviemaking and the intersection between art and moneymaking, it is. But that's only the half of it. Silent Movie is also a genuine tribute to slapstick, a fond spoof of the visual, highly athletic "gags" that were dreamed up—seemingly effortlessly—by Charlie Chaplin and Buster Keaton in the early days of comedic cinema. The influence of these two silent masterminds is easily evident throughout Brooks' output, from the sped-up chase scenes of The Twelve Chairs to the ribald sight gags of Robin Hood: Men in Tights. So it makes sense that, at some point in his career, Brooks would indulge himself by tossing verbal humor out the window and pratfalling back on purely physical comedy. Silent Movie does just that, dispensing with the dialogue—except for a single uttered word—and giving us a nearly nonstop hit parade of sight gags old and new, some borrowed from the masters, and some so ridiculously over-the-top that they could only have come from the skewed mind of Mel Brooks. As you can probably imagine, 20th Century Fox wasn't exactly thrilled when Brooks pitched them the idea for Silent Movie. The studio bosses were persuaded to finance the somewhat risky project—no one had made a silent film in some 40 years—only after Mel wrangled up some Hollywood star power to make high-profile cameos. And essentially, this is also the plot of the incredibly self-referential film. In his first lead role, Mel Brooks plays Mel Funn, a down-and-out director whose career tanked after one too many rounds with the bottle. With his eye on a comeback, Funn goes to Big Picture Studios ("If it's a big picture, we made it.") to pitch his idea for a modern day silent film to the Chief (Brooks' former mentor Sid Caesar). Big Picture is in big financial trouble—massive conglomerate Engulf and Devour is attempting to buy them out—and the Chief agrees to back the film only if Funn can drum up some A-list names for the marquee. With the help of his "associates" Egg (the bug-eyed Marty Feldman) and Bell (Dom DeLuise)—it's never exactly clear what they do—Funn, dressed in a captain's uniform for some reason, tracks down one star after another to persuade them to come aboard. Naturally, the three partners make this simple task much more difficult than it needs to be, and all manner of hi-jinks follows. Complicating matters are the nefarious, money-worshiping leaders of Engulf and Devour (Harold Gould and Ron Carey), who send delicious sexpot Vilma Kaplan (Bernadette Peters) to tempt Funn into abandoning the film. If you're under the age of, say, 80, and you're not a film buff or fan of comedy from the 1910s and 20s, you might be understandably wary of silent films or simply unwilling to give them a chance. Maybe they'll be boring, you think, or just slow. Now, I'm no doctor, but if that's the case, rent Buster Keaton's The General, take two pills, and call me in the morning if you're not feeling better about silent movies. That said, an appreciation for Keaton, Chaplain, or the sadly maligned Fatty Arbuckle isn't necessary to enjoy Silent Movie. In fact, I can see Mel Brooks' film as a kind of gateway drug into the world of silent cinema. Like the best of Keaton's films, the pace of Silent Movie rarely slags—only giving us some post-laugh breathing room—and the madcap gags are unrelentingly chaotic. Some of the jokes are duds, but that's expected when you're dropping them faster than a squadron of B-29s unloosing bombs over mid-war Germany. Considering the high frequency, most of the gags are right on target. There's some seriously funny stuff here. Funn, Egg, and Bell sneak in on Burt Reynolds while he's showering, running their hands all over his soapy, hairy chest. The trio use a broken vending machine to shoot cans of Coke like mortar rounds at their pursuers. Eggs and Bell play Pong using the hospitalized Chief's oscilloscope heart monitor. There's an epic motorized wheelchair race with Paul Newman. I could go on and on. There are cameos by Liza Minnelli, James Caan, and Anne Bancroft as well, but the best bit comes from French mime Marcel Marceau, who has the film's only line of dialogue. Leave it to Mel Brooks to let a mime do the talking.  High Anxiety (7/10) The Master of Comedy vs. The Master of Suspense While Mel Brooks had, by this point, made a career out of slaying cows both sacred and profane— taking on the Third Reich, communism, racism, the western, monster movies, and even The Great Stone Face himself, Buster Keaton—making a Hitchcock parody required some serious chutzpah, not merely to avoid offending the master of suspense, who was still alive at the time, but to simply pull it off convincingly. The former certainly wasn't a problem—High Anxiety riffs lovingly on Hitchcock's themes, and it's clear that Mel is and was an adoring acolyte—but the film is unfortunately one of Brooks' less cohesive comedies. There's no lack of wily hilarity here, but High Anxiety doesn't resonate or surprise as much as Brooks' earlier efforts, and it's not quite as unrepentantly insane as some of his films to come. Still, for Hitchcock fans—who will get more out of the film than general audiences—High Anxiety is a worthwhile watch, if only to pick out references to obscure classics and watch as Brooks stages shot-for-shot spoofs of iconic Hitchcock scenes. If you recently purchased the excellent Blu-ray edition of North by Northwest, you owe it to yourself to check out High Anxiety, since this is one of the films from which Brooks draws the most inspiration. Hopping into Cary Grant's shoes, Mel Brooks plays Richard H. Thorndyke, Harvard professor, Nobel Prize laureate, and new administrator of The Psycho-Neurotic Institute for the Very, Very Nervous. Strange happenings are afoot at the Institute when Thorndyke arrives— his predecessor died under mysterious circumstances—and the asylum's staff, which includes the sadistic Nurse Diesel (Cloris Leachman) and the bondage-loving masochist Dr. Montague (Harvey Korman), are clearly hiding something. Thorndyke himself suffers from, yes, high anxiety, and he's got a Vertigo-inducing fear of heights that his psychotherapist and mentor Dr. Lillolman (Howard Morris)—whom everyone calls Dr. Little Old Man—has yet to cure. When he travels to a psychiatric conference in San Francisco, Thorndyke meets Victoria Brisbane (Madeline Kahn), the steely blond daughter of one of the Institute's wealthy patients, and is framed for murder by a heavy breathing, braces-wearing assassin (Rudy De Luca). To clear his good name, Thorndyke must unravel the mystery, all while being attacked in the shower by a newspaper-wielding bellhop, and getting shat on by flocks of diarrheic pigeons. Oh, and Thorndyke, vis-à-vis Mel Brooks, does a killer Frank Sinatra impersonation. While the jabs at Psycho, Spellbound, Birds, Vertigo, and North by Northwest are instantly recognizable, only the most diehard Hitchcock connoisseurs will be able to parse the countless esoteric references to the portly director's lesser- known films. Not content to stop at Hitchcock, the film also tosses in spoofs of One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, The Wizard of Oz, and even Blowup, Antonioni's mod- London classic. In fact, I'd say the best gags here aren't related to Hitchcock at all. Nurse Diesel —an obvious poke at Nurse Ratched from Cuckoo's Nest—is the film's most memorable creation, and Cloris Leachman is by turns terrifying and hilarious. I always lose it when she lays down the law of the dinner table and proclaims, "Those who are tardy do not get fruit cup." Brooks mainstay Harvey Korman is also great as Nurse Diesel's subservient co-conspirator, especially when he puts in his plastic werewolf fangs to terrify an otherwise sane patient. While not quite the straight man, Mel Brooks' Thorndyke feels a bit plain; without an accent to hide behind, Brooks can't seem to get into character. I always wonder how the film would be different if Gene Wilder had taken the lead—he was apparently busy shooting something else at the time— and if Brooks had placed himself in the role of Dr. Little Old Man, which just seems more fitting for him somehow. Though the film doesn't coalesce into a piece of classic comedy to match the grandiosity of the films it's satirizing, High Anxiety is decent mid-period Brooks, which is, let's face it, still funnier than most other comedies of the time.  History of the World Part I (9/10) Or, Cecil B. Demented The "sword and sandal" epic, the big-budget biblical spectacle, and the stuffy period drama all present Hollywood at its most portentous. And that's why Mel Brooks' History of the World Part I is so successful; it doesn't so much satirize historical events as it parodies how Tinseltown chooses to self-importantly portray them. Brooks' previous effort, High Anxiety, is notably less effective as a comedy precisely because it takes on Alfred Hitchcock's films, which are often darkly witty, playful, and self-referential anyway. It's hard to parody someone when they're already winking at themselves in the mirror. However, self- seriousness is like fuel for a good satire. Who better to spoof, then, than the stately Cecil B. DeMille, who actually required the cast of The King of Kings, his 1927 silent classic, to sign a contract that forbade them from indulging in any "unbiblical" activities for a period of five years, so as not to sully the spiritual nature of the film? (These activities included the usual heavy hitting sins, but also lesser, though apparently equally damning vices such as swimming, going to baseball games, and riding in convertibles.) History of the World Part I mines big, Old Hollywood "event" movies like DeMille's The Ten Commandments for a deep vein of comedic gold, and throughout the film's 92 minutes, we see nearly every one of the commandments summarily and impertinently broken. Defiantly irreverent and rightly R-rated, the vignettes that make up The History of the World Part I mark somewhat of a turning point for Brooks, who had always utilized "low" humor— see the campfire fart scene in Blazing Saddles—but never to the extent that he does here. The film's opening shot mimics 2001: A Space Odyssey, with pre-human apes rising from sleep to greet the dawn, but as the strains of Also Sprach Zarathustra reach a climax, the apes begin jerking off uncontrollably, and a title reading "Our Forefathers" appears on the screen. We are our basest instincts, Brooks seems to be saying, all while throwing a jab at Stanley Kubrick for the arguably masturbatory tediousness of 2001's wordless opening sequence. Maybe the humor isn't so "low" after all. Bu that's just the beginning. Brooks shows us a proud Neanderthal completing work on a cave painting. "And of course," says narrator Orson Wells, "with the birth of the artist came the inevitable afterbirth: the critic." The caveman critic strokes his beard, pauses in thought, and promptly pisses all over the world's first work of art. Religion takes its share of hits too. In a brief vignette about the Old Testament, Brooks plays Moses coming down off of Mount Sinai with tablets in hand to proclaim, "The Lord Jehovah has given unto you these fifteen…"—here he drops one of the tablets—"Oy! Ten! Ten commandments! For all to obey!" And later, Brooks takes the Spanish Inquisition, one of the grimmest, most hypocritical events in human history, and turns it into a show-stopping song 'n dance number, complete with a slot machine made out of Jews, and a team of synchronized swimming nuns that could put an Esther Williams production to shame. Brooks himself plays the grand inquisitor Tomás de Torquemada, who is impossible to sway because "you can't Torquemada anything!" The bulk of the film takes place during the height of the Roman Empire, where Brooks plays Comicus—a stand-up philospher—who is invited to "Caesar's Palace" to perform. On the way, he meets Josephus (Gregory Hines), an Ethiopian slave, and Miriam (Mary-Margaret Humes), a vestal virgin in the service of Empress Nympho (Madeline Kahn). When Comicus bombs in front of Caesar (Dom DeLuise), the three have to hotfoot it out of Rome with a unit of centurions in pursuit. Thankfully, Josephus spots some marijuana growing by the roadside, rolls the biggest joint known to man, and blazes up a trail of smoke that leaves the centurions in a literal and mental haze. After escaping, Comicus ends up working at a restaurant in Judea, where he frequently interrupts Jesus (John Hurt) and his disciples during Da Vinci's The Last Supper. Jumping forward some 1,700 years—this is only Part I, after all—the film wraps up with a segment during the French Revolution. As if playing Moses, Comicus, and Torquemada weren't enough, Brooks crams himself into two additional roles here. As lusty King Louis, Brooks pushes his face into the cleavage of a busty courtesan and then turns to the camera to give his now famous line, "It's good to be the king." He also plays the palace piss boy, who just happens to look exactly like Louis. The film ends with a bit of anachronistic absurdity right up there with the ending to Monty Python's The Holy Grail. Somewhat of a return to form, The History of the World reunites a cast of Brooks' regulars, along with hilarious newcomer Gregory Hines—who stepped in for Richard Pryor at the last minute—to create Brooks' last truly great lampoon, though his later, lesser efforts like Spaceballs and Robin Hood: Men in Tights would nevertheless become favorites for a new generation of Brooks fans.  To Be or Not To Be (7/10) "I gave the greatest performance of my life, and nobody saw it." In a lot of ways, To Be or Not To Be is the odd man out in The Mel Brooks Collection. For one, Brooks didn't direct it. Falling under the eponymous Brooksfilms imprint that Brooks had started in order to finance more serious-minded fare, like David Lynch's The Elephant Man, the film was directed by Alan Johnson, who had previously worked on several of Mel's movies as a choreographer. Brooks himself took a producer's credit and used the time he gained by not having to be behind the camera to focus on his performance in front of it. And he would need it. In this remake, Brooks fills the shoes of the legendary Jack Benny, who starred in director Ernst Lubitsch's original 1942 version of To Be or Not To Be, a bleak and impeccably timed comedy about a troupe of Polish actors who pull a fast one on the occupying Nazi forces. The film was derided upon its release—partly because it seemed distasteful to laugh at such an imminent threat—but it has since been recognized as a wartime classic. Why a remake was necessary is anyone's guess, but while this 1983 iteration of the film can't outclass or unseat the original, it does manage to entertain simply because Brooks' character seems like a role he was born to play. Brooks is Frederick Bronksi, a showman and entertainer who is "world famous in Poland," and who owns a theatre in Warsaw with his unfaithful actress wife Anna (Brooks' real life wife Anne Bancroft). Whenever Frederick goes on stage to perform his dreadful "Highlights from Hamlet" act, Polish R.A.F pilot Lieutenant Sobinski (Tim Matheson) sneaks out of the audience to rendezvous with Anna in her dressing room. This becomes a nightly routine, and Frederick, unaware of the real reasons for Sobinski's departure, simply thinks he's bombing with the crowd. But then the real bombing begins as German forces invade Poland and the theatre gets rigorously censored for its "Naughty Nazis" sketch. While Frederick originally suggests that the troupe should do what any good theater group would—hide in the basement until the war is over— they quickly get pulled into a dangerous charade, with actors impersonating Nazis, and Frederick donning one disguise after another, from a lowly Gestapo captain, to the Fuhrer himself. When Hitler attends a command performance at the Bronski Theatre, Frederick & Co. use some impressive diversions—which will perhaps remind new viewers of Tarentino's Inglourious Basterds—to escape unnoticed and take off in the mustachioed dictator's plane, with a cargo hold filled with all the "gypsies, fags, and Jews" without which the theatre couldn't exist. Lubitsch's To Be or Not To Be was careful to make only a passing mention of the plight of the Jews in Poland, but director Alan Johnson's take is much more pointed and, if less timely, certainly more poignant. Not only does he rightfully reinstate the persecution of the Jews in the story, but his film is one of the first to acknowledge—in the character of Sasha (James Haake), Anna's effeminate assistant—the fact that homosexuals were also hauled off to concentration camps. In most other ways, the plot remains identical to the original, though the performances are understandably much wilder and looser here. Still, for a film starring Mel Brooks, the tone is almost unexpectedly restrained. And if the film has one obvious shortcoming, it's that the balance between comedy and drama is often shaky. To Be or Not To Be could've easily been taken to the extreme on either side, as a laugh-filled farce or a genuinely touching drama, but instead it occupies the dangerous and not always effective no-man's-land somewhere in the middle, with Brooks bringing the hijinks and the late Anne Bancroft playing it relatively straight as a grand old leading lady of the stage. It has all the hallmarks—the musical numbers, the showmanship, the theatricality and zaniness—but To Be or Not To Be simply doesn't feel like a Mel Brooks movie. Of course, it isn't, but that's not necessarily a bad thing.  Spaceballs (8/10) May the farce be with you. Where do you go after parodying westerns, classic horror, silent film, and, indeed, the very History of the World? Why, you leave the confines of terrestrial comedy and take to the stars. Specifically, the warring stars. The stars at war. The war of the stars. You know what I mean. Having exhausted Earth's supply of spoof-worthy material, Mel Brooks decided in 1987 to aim his satiric death ray at the biggest target in the galaxy, nay, the universe. Yes, the Star Wars franchise. And while some may say that Spaceballs came a decade too late to properly lampoon George Lucas' magnum opus, I say that it's just a good thing that Brooks beat the Star Wars prequels to the punch. Because, let's face it, by the time The Phantom Menace came out, Lucas was basically doing a parody of himself anyway. And besides, it's not like Star Wars was ever or will ever truly be in danger of falling out of geek chic. And therein lies the staying power of Spaceballs. As long as there are emotionally stunted man-children drooling over figurines of Princess Leia in her slave bikini, there will always be an audience for Mel Brooks' epic satirical space adventure. (Please don't sent me hate mail; I can say these things because I too was the kid on the block with all the Star Wars toys, who had collectible trading cards, and who secretly dreamed of being the guy on-set who was responsible for getting Carrie Fisher into—and out of—that costume.) In a galaxy far, far away, Planet Spaceball is running out of oxygen and President Skroob (Mel Brooks)—a much less threatening version of Emperor Palpatine, essentially—has a plan to suck all the air out of the peaceful planet of Druidia. Skroob orders his powerful minion Dark Helmet (Rick Moranis) to kidnap Vespa, a Druish princess, and force King Roland (Dick Van Patten) to give up the combination to the planet's airlock (which turns out to be 1-2-3-4-5). With his daughter's Mercedes spaceship caught in the tractor beam of Spaceball One, King Roland conscripts the renegade Captain Lone Starr (Bill Pullman) and his half-man, half-dog companion Barf (John Candy) to rescue her, and agrees to pay them a tidy sum upon her return. This works out just swell for Lone Starr, who is indebted to the greasy Mafioso Pizza the Hutt (who ultimately eats himself in his limo). Lone Starr and Barf have no trouble rescuing the princess, but their space- cruising Winnebago runs out of gas and crashes into the desert planet below. Here they meet Yogurt the Wise (also Mel Brooks), a master of The Schwartz and merchandising expert who hints at Lone Starr's patronage and also shows off the Spaceballs lunch box, t-shirt, and flamethrower. When Dark Helmet recaptures the princess, transforms Spaceball One into the Mega Maid, and prepares to suck the atmosphere out of Druidia, Lone Starr must learn to use The Schwartz if he wants to save Vespa and fulfill his own destiny. I have mixed feelings about Spaceballs. Objectively, it's not nearly as effective as some of Brooks' previous parodies, simply because Star Wars really is such an easy target. On the other hand, growing up with Star Wars and feeling a kind of sentimental attachment to the material, Spaceballs always temporarily overrules my critical side. The film certainly has its shortcomings—it's looser and less socially/culturally pointed than Blazing Saddles or History of the World Part I—but Brooks has so much fun with the Star Wars mythos that the film's flaws trail in the wake of its Ludicrous Speed comedy. There are jokes that miss the mark by a wider margin than Apollo 13 on its moon shot, but most of the gags hold up surprisingly well, especially since Star Wars has officially entered our culture's Jungian collective unconsciousness, and babies today are born with an innate encyclopedic knowledge of Jedi lore. And it's hard to think of a more quotable film, with gems like "What's the matter Colonel Sandurz? Chicken?" or "I see your Schwartz is as big as mine." The visual puns are just as memorable, with phallic lightsabers, the longest spaceship ever seen in a sci-fi film, and stormtroopers who literally "comb the desert" with an enormous afro pick. Spaceballs may not be Brooks' most piercing satire, and it's certainly one of his more juvenile efforts, but the film always makes me laugh, and I suppose that's the best judge of a comedy's success.  Robin Hood: Men in Tights (5/10) "Let's face it, you've gotta be a man to wear tights." For years I've waited for Mel Brooks to make a triumphant return to the silver screen, because really, as cinematic send offs go, Robin Hood: Men in Tights and Dracula: Dead and Loving It don't really cut it for me. By the mid 1990s, Brooks was simply repeating himself ad nauseum, hoping to recapture the magic of his earlier films by doing what he's always done— spoofing one Hollywood genre after another. The trouble is, Dracula: Dead and Loving It is a fangless film that only wishes it could aspire to the lofty comedic heights of Young Frankenstein, and Robin Hood: Men in Tights is essentially, with the fudging of a few plot points, a retelling of Blazing Saddles set in 12th century England. I get it— parody has been his shtick ever since he finished The Twelve Chairs—but I can't help but optimistically hope that Brooks has another The Producers in him, an original comedy that doesn't rely on the aping, spoofing, and poking of other people's work. I'd even love to see him take a stab at a more serious film. Okay, sorry, rant over. Anyway, Brooks' second-to- last film, Robin Hood: Men in Tights, pleasurably skewers the overwrought drama of Kevin Costner's Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves—someone needed to do it—but many of its jokes fizzle quietly, and the ones that are successful are met with little fanfare. It's also the most dated film in the director's otherwise timeless oeuvre. Need an example? How about the rappers in tights who give some introductory exposition in the form of a hip-hop song with rhyming couplets? If this is Brooks' attempt to remain relevant and timely, it's cringingly painful and more likely to inspire a kind of wistful sadness than laughs. And that's just for starters. Perhaps time will be kind to Men in Tights, but right now it's covered with a funky, mid-1990s mold that's impossible to overlook. The story hews closely to 1991's Prince of Thieves, with concessions made to the traditional tale and Errol Flynn's masterful portrayal in 1938's The Adventures of Robin Hood. Cary Elwes—looking, at times, like Flynn's long-lost doppelganger—plays Robin of Loxley, who escapes from a prison in Jerusalem during the Crusades and swims all the way back to jolly old England, where he meets Ahchoo, son of Asneeze (a very young Dave Chappelle), and forms a merry band comprised of his family's blind servant, Blinkin (Mark Blankfield), the hulking Little John (Eric Allan Kramer), and the dagger expert Will Scarlet O'Hara (Matthew Porretta). Together, they crash a party at Prince John's (Richard Lewis) castle, and Robin falls for Amy Yasbeck's lovely but literally locked-down Maid Marian—she's wearing an Everlast-brand chastity belt. The dyslexic Sheriff of Rottingham (Roger Rees) conspires have Robin assassinated at an archery festival—and then put his "key" in Marian's "lock"—but the merry men in tights show up to save the day. And, of course, Robin finds out that he has the key to Marian's heart—and her ironclad chastity belt. Along the way, we get Tracey Ullman as the lusty but hideous witch Latrine ("Used to be S**thouse."), Dom DeLuise as a Brando-aping Mafia boss, and Mel Brooks in a bit role as Rabbi Tuckman, "purveyor of sacramental wine and moyel extraordinaire." The references to Prince of Thieves are countless, but the film's thorniest jab is aimed at Kevin Costner when Cary Elwes remarks, "Unlike some Robin Hoods, I can speak with an English accent." As expected, Brooks loads Men in Tights with silly musical numbers, plenty of physical, slapstick comedy, and a steady through-line of mildly racy double entendres and sight gags, like the stately rise of Robin's sword as he proclaims his love for Maid Marian. Only, it doesn't amount to much. Yes, there are some uproariously funny moments, like the blind Blinkin reading a Braille edition of "Ye Olde Playboy," or Dave Chappelle's Malcolm X impersonation, but it just seems like Brooks is throwing everything at the wall here just to see what sticks. At the end of the film, we're left with only an intermittently spotted wall, and a heap of gags piled sadly underneath. The film's closest thing to a saving grace is Cary Elwes (The Princess Bride, Saw), who is just dashing, daring, and romantically swashbuckling enough to pull off his star turn as Robin of Loxley. But not even the ghost of Errol Flynn could save Robin Hood: Men in Tights from being a third-rate entry into Mel Brooks' canon. Here's to hoping that Mel cranks out one final masterpiece, so that future editions of The Mel Brooks Collection can end on a more satisfying note. Video  The Twelve Chairs (6/10) The Twelve Chairs makes its Blu-ray debut with a hit-or-miss 1.85:1, 1080p/AVC- encoded transfer. You'll notice from the start that this isn't a complete restorative overhaul. There are two or three instances of slight but noticeable print damage, and white specks are intermittently present throughout the film, though they're not too distracting. While Fox hasn't done much to touch up the film in a good way, neither have they meddled unnecessarily. The film's grain structure is intact—levels do sometimes greatly vary between daytime and darker scenes— and there's no evidence of DNR or edge enhancement. Other technical troubles like banding or macroblocking are also thankfully absent. Clarity waxes and wanes. There are a few spectacularly sharp scenes, where facial detail is readily apparent and clothing texture well-reproduced, but there are also plenty of soft, slightly hazy shots. However, this is almost certainly a product of the source material and not a technical fault of the transfer. There are also scenes of intentional blurriness, like Ippolit's flashback sequence, where it almost looks like Vaseline has been smeared around the edges of the frame to give a dreamy effect. On the bright side, color depth is quite impressive and black levels are more than adequately deep—though there's a bit of crush here and there—giving the image a just dandy sense of contrast. Ostap's burgundy pants and blue jacket look great, and the ample Soviet reds pop nicely. Blazing Saddles (9/10) This 2.40:1 1080p VC-1 transfer is a Technicolor dream, even for a Blu-ray disc released in 2006. Colors are strong and well-saturated throughout (check out the curtains during Lili's anti- burlesque show), black levels are deep and un-crushed (see Hedley's suits), and while not razor sharp by today's standards, Blazing Saddles shows an extraordinary amount of clarity for its age. The print has a handful of specks and flecks, and I noticed some extremely heavy grain in the wagon train sequence that stands out from the film's otherwise warm and well-dispersed grain field. This is, however, no fault of the transfer and all goes back to the source material. After years of cruddy VHS releases and good-but-not-great DVD transfers, it's great to see Blazing Saddles get the crisp cinematic treatment it deserves. Young Frankenstein (9/10) Mel Brooks' decision to film Young Frankenstein in black and white was a point of contention with his original backers, Columbia Pictures, prompting Mel to take the film to his friend Alan Ladd, Jr., the studio head at 20th Century Fox. Honestly, I can't imagine how the film would've fared in color. So much of its effectiveness is based in how precisely it mimics the look of the original Frankenstein movies. As one of my favorites of Mel Brooks' films, I was curious to see how Young Frankenstein's black and white cinematography would make the jump to Blu-ray, and Fox didn't let me down, with a stunning 1.85:1, 1080p/AVC- encoded transfer. Like The Twelve Chairs, there are still a few specks on the print, but far less here. Plus, since the film is in black and white, you don't notice them as much. And the film's black and white gradation is superb, with deep inky blacks making up the rampant chiaroscuro shadows, a smooth gradient of grays, white highlights that are bright but never overblown, and spot-on contrast. Just look at the scene when Dr. Frankenstein carries a candle through the secret passageway for an example of the film's visual range. Once again, the film's grain hasn't been tampered with and there's no evidence of edge enhancement. Young Frankenstein isn't the sharpest film to begin with, but you'll definitely notice an appreciable upgrade in clarity, texture, and detail from prior DVD releases of the film. Really, I couldn't be more pleased with this transfer. Silent Movie (8/10) Silent Movie makes a grand entrance on Blu-ray with a 1.85:1, 1080p/AVC-encoded transfer that's anything but quiet. Like the previous films in the collection, there are a few white specks here and there and some slight brightness flickering from time to time, but Silent Movie has certainly never looked better. The film's color scheme is bright and modern, with a defiant mid-1970s vibe—defiant because you expect a film called Silent Movie, naturally, to be black and white. Saturation is strong here, with colors that are deep and stable. Just check out Anne Bancroft's vivid red dress against the green tablecloths in the Rio Bomba Club. There were also a few sequences where I was surprised by the illusion of depth that the image is able to conjure, especially during the motorized wheelchair race between Paul Newman and our dynamic trio. The shots of the three leads driving around town in their yellow convertible look great as well. Black levels are satisfyingly deep, and the film's presence is aided by strong but never overheated contrast. There are a few scattered soft shots, but the film looks pretty crisp for its age, especially in close-ups. See the details in the melon balls they eat in James Caan's trailer, and make out the individual grains of pepper that Dom DeLuise sprinkles on his bagel. Grain levels fluctuate a bit from scene to scene, but there's been no digital scrubbing and there are no compression artifacts or other technical issues to distract. High Anxiety (7/10) While High Anxiety follows Silent Movie chronologically, I actually feel like the picture quality here is a small step backwards from the color and clarity of its predecessor. Don't get me wrong, I'm still definitely enamored of this 1.85:1, 1080p/AVC-encoded transfer, but the image seems just slightly more gritty and slightly less vivid, mostly, I suppose, because High Anxiety is set largely indoors. The opening scenes in the airport are somewhat soft, with heavy, chunky grain, but the picture seems to improve, oddly enough, as the film goes on. While the colors here aren't as bold as those in Silent Movie, neither are they feeble. The image is strong and weighted, with deep blacks, good contrast, and a decent sense of clarity. The picture doesn't consistently ride on the razor's edge, but the film is sharp more often than not, and there are some stunningly well-resolved shots, like the close-up of Brooks' face as he lies in the tub after his "Psycho" attack. As with the previous films, there no real technical troubles and few distractions. High Anxiety isn't the prettiest film in the collection, but it's no Nurse Diesel either. History of the World Part I (9/10) With its colorful costumes and colossal set pieces, History of the World Part I has always been a big budget visual stunner. Here on Blu-ray, the film looks absolutely astounding, sporting a 2.35:1, 1080p/AVC-encoded transfer that provides superlative color reproduction, newfound clarity, and an image with a strong sense of depth and presence. Out of all the films in The Mel Brooks Collection, the transfer for History of the World Part I impressed me most. If you've only ever seen the film in standard definition on cable TV—which is how I was first introduced to it—you're in for a revelatory experience here. The film's color scheme is bright and vivid, with bold flashes of color in nearly every frame. See Caesar's purple robes, the turquoise pool for the synchronized swimmers of The Inquisition, and the crimson cloaks and gilded armor of the centurions. Speaking of the soldiers, the detailing visible in their armor is phenomenal. Likewise, facial texture is expertly reproduced and, aside from a scattered handful of slightly out-of-focus shots, the image is crisp and almost perfectly resolved. With inky blacks, deep colors, and a weighty contrast, the image takes on an appearance that's surprisingly dimensional considering the film's age. Unlike some of the previous films in the collection, there's little to no print damage or debris, and I only counted a couple of white specks throughout. The film's grain structure is thin but intact, and there are no compression issues or other digital anomalies to report. I have to give it up to Fox and MGM for the quality of this new transfer. To Be or Not To Be (7/10) To Be or Not To Be soliloquizes its way onto Blu-ray with a 1.85:1, 1080p/AVC- encoded transfer that flubs a few lines, forgets a few words, but manages to at least earn some modest applause at the end of the monologue. Much of the film appears to be shot with some kind of diffusion filter in place—perhaps to flatter the lovely but aging Anne Bancroft—and as a result, the image is frequently soft and a little hazy. The film's grain structure also has an indistinct, somewhat smeary quality, which leads me to think that that some slight DNR has been applied. Never fear, though, as faces still maintain some texture and never look like claymation figures or wax models. Fine detail, however, does appear to be moderately diminished, though this seems mostly due to the soft-focus filtering. Still, color depth is impressive—see the theatre's red curtains and the bold Nazi armbands, Bancroft's glittering silver dress, and the pink clown car— and both black levels and contrast are strong, though there's a bit of black crush on occasion, especially in the Nazi uniforms. The print itself is very clean, with no debris or damage and very few specks. While the diffusion filter on the source material is a strange and ineffective choice that holds the film back from the clarity it could otherwise have, it is what is, and To Be or Not To Be looks just fine, considering. Spaceballs (8/10) This is the same disc that was released in June of this year, and it's as impressive as ever, with a 1080p/AVC-encoded transfer that gives Spaceballs—a former VHS favorite—a new lease on home video life. If you haven't seen the film since its VHS days, you'll go into Ludicrous Speed when you see the level of detail that's been pulled out of the film's negative. Pizza the Hutt's face is disgustingly reproduced, with oozing rivers of melted cheese over his wet and doughy skin. Dark Helmet's faceplate is sharp and the uniforms of the film's "storm troopers" show off previously unseen texture and detail. This goes for nearly the entire film; aside from a couple of noticeably softer shots, Spaceballs is a crisp and even occasionally stunning on Blu-ray. While many of the film's interiors are intentionally drab—see the almost completely beige palette of Lone Starr's Winnebago or the matte gray halls of Spaceball One—the color reproduction here is fantastic, particularly in bright flashes like King Roland's crimson cloak, the pastel pink of Prince Valium's leggings, and the glittery gold of Yoghurt's skin. Black levels and contrast are spot-on, flesh tones are warm and consistent, and with the exception of a few heavily grainy effects shots, the film's grain is thin and unobtrusive. Robin Hood: Men in Tights (7/10) Robin Hood: Men in Tights prances onto Blu-ray with a 1.85:1, 1080p/AVC-encoded image that, oddly enough, looks more dated than most of Brooks' earlier films. Not in terms of wear and tear, mind you, or even picture quality, but simply because of the mid-1990s cinematography. In actuality, the picture here is fairly strong, with an all-around decent sense of clarity and deep colors. There are a handful of noticeably soft shots—especially longer landscapes —but this transfer is also capable of extremely fine detail, like the shimmering weft of Isaac Hayes' glittery turban, the embossed lettering on Maid Marian's Everlast chastity belt, and the texture of the suede on Robin Hood's jumper. I even noticed a few things I'd never caught before, like the dents and scratches on Robin's sword. Greens look slightly oversaturated and skin tones can veer towards the ruddy side of the spectrum, but the film's color depth is good, which is important considering all the vibrant 12th century costuming. Black levels are adequately deep, contrast is tight—if a bit hot at times—and while there are some fluctuations in grain levels throughout the film, it's never distracting, and there's no evidence of DNR. Audio The Twelve Chairs (6/10) The original monaural presentation of The Twelve Chairs has been expanded into an effective but somewhat thin DTS-HD Master Audio 5.1 surround track. When I say thin, I mean that there's not a lot of bass presence throughout. As a result, some of the musical numbers — especially Brooks' theme song, "Hope for the Best, Expect the Worst"—sound a little tinny and brash. Otherwise, I don't have many qualms with this track. The dialogue is easily discernable— though the ADR work is noticeably dated at times—and the vocals are properly prioritized in the mix. As expected of a formerly mono track, the surround channels aren't given a whole lot to do here, but when they are used, it's to good effect. You'll hear a train rush through the rear speakers, Dom Deluise's screams pinging between the surrounds, and some occasional ambience. Otherwise, this is a straightforward, front-heavy mix that sounds a little squashed dynamically, but gets the job done sufficiently. The disc also includes English, French, Spanish, and Portuguese mono mixes, and English SDH, Spanish, Portuguese, Cantonese, and Mandarin subtitles. Blazing Saddles (7/10) Blazing Saddles' original monaural track has been expanded here into a Dolby Digital 5.1 mix that occasionally falls off its horse while galloping across the sound field. The many musical numbers are warm and dynamic; instruments are spread across channels pleasingly and ring true, at least to my ears. That said, the track generally lacks bottom end heft and comes across tinny at times. Voices are occasionally muddled by the surrounding sound effects, which, while not exactly immersive, do offer up some rear channel action. The crowd is especially lively during Lily's song- and-dance, and bullets careen and pi-ting with comic hyperbole. While this is certainly the best that Blazing Saddles has ever sounded, the mix could still use some work, and I do wish that the original track had been included for reference purposes. The disc also includes French and Spanish mono tracks, and English SDH, French, and Spanish subtitles. Young Frankenstein (8/10) Young Frankenstein marks the start of Mel Brooks' long-time collaboration with composer John Morris, who supplied the film with a suitably eerie and haunting score that attempts to match the thin but distinctive sound of the 1930s Frankenstein films. His soundtrack is the movie's defining audio characteristic, and it's effortlessly reproduced by the DTS-HD Master Audio 5.1 surround track featured here. The music is fantastic, and I'd love some insight on how Morris actually went about the recording process, because the film really does have that "Old Hollywood" sound. Violins snake through the upper registers, horns charge brashly through, and the bottom end is rounded out by kettledrums and mournful cello. The original mono stems have been effectively separated into a multi-channel presentation, allowing more space between instruments and letting the music bleed pleasingly into the rear speakers. There's also a surprising amount of ambience and sound effects in the surround channels, from low rolling thunder and wolf cries to pouring rain and the screaming and jeering of the angry mob. Dialogue is perfectly balanced and easily understood, except for that of the constable with the mechanical arm, and his lines are hard to make out on purpose. The disc also includes English, French, and Spanish mono tracks, and English SDH, Spanish, Cantonese, and Mandarin subtitles. Silent Movie (6/10) How much sonic interaction can you expect from a film called Silent Movie? If you guessed "not much," then you're on to something. Aside from a single, one-word line of spoken dialogue, all of the film's sound comes from John Morris' peppy score and a handful of sound effects that have been mixed in to fit with the timing of the music. There's no ambience, and there are long stretches of the movie where silence reigns. However, this isn't why I'm scoring the film a 6 out of 10. The lack of sound is an intentional choice, and I not only respect that, but I love the film's minimal sound design. I'm giving the audio a 6 out of 10 because where there should be absolute silence, you can still hear a small hiss leaking out from all speakers. In fact, this hiss is apparent even when the music is marching along. I got used to it after about 20 minutes, but it was admittedly distracting before that. On the plus side, Morris' score sounds superb, with instruments pleasingly distributed throughout the channels, some modest bass response, and a generally excellent sense of detail and definition. On a side note, I find it strange that this disc includes additional English, Spanish, and French Dolby Digital 2.0 tracks for a film that has only a single word of dialogue. Go figure. Also bizarrely, the disc includes English SDH, Spanish, Cantonese, Korean, and Mandarin subtitles. High Anxiety (7/10) High Anxiety follows the spartan sound design of Silent Movie with a DTS-HD Master Audio 5.1 surround track that's effective but noticeably front-heavy. As a "talkie," High Anxiety's audio obviously trumps that of Silent Movie, but there's little in terms of rear channel engagement besides some occasional quiet ambience and John Morris' score. Nevertheless, everything sounds clear, detailed, and moderately full, especially the score, which features some dizzyingly spiraling strings. The sound effects are decent, if a bit aged, and the dialogue is clean and appropriately prioritized to make sure no one misses a potential laugh. When I take notes for the audio portions of my reviews, I usually comment on what strikes me as particularly impressive or noticeably bad about a track. For this film I hardly took any notes at all. Take that as you will, but I suppose what I mean is that I have real reservations—aside from the lack of surround channel activity—about High Anxiety's newly minted lossless audio track. The disc also includes an English stereo mix, French, Spanish, and Portuguese Dolby Digital 5.1 tracks, and English SDH, Spanish, Portuguese, Cantonese, Korean, and Mandarin subtitles. History of the World Part I (8/10) While not as self-evidently impressive as the film's eye-widening visual presentation, History of the World Part I is given a solid DTS-HD Master Audio 5.1 surround track that leaves little to be desired. From the opening strains of the 2001: A Space Odyssey-aping Also Sprach Zarathustra—which features some droning that effectively utilizes the .1 LFE channel —the film's music sounds spectacular, with strong bass, punchy dynamics, and plenty of detail. The big song 'n dance number about the Spanish Inquisition is especially impressive, and I'm sure it's never sounded better. The rear channels aren't utilized as much as they are in some of the other films in the collection—you'll hear the score and some quiet ambience, and that's about it— but I have no reservations about the presentation here. Most importantly, the dialogue is clean, tight, and perfectly prioritized, so you'll never miss one of Comicus' jokes. There's not a lot here to tickle the eardrums of audiophiles, but if you're looking for demo-worthy, reference quality sound design, you're probably not watching a Mel Brooks film, right? The disc also includes an English mono mix, French, Spanish, and Portuguese Dolby Digital 5.1 tracks, and English SDH, Spanish, Portuguese, Cantonese, Korean, and Mandarin subtitles. To Be or Not To Be (7/10) To Be or Not To Be arrives on Blu-ray with a DTS-HD Master Audio 5.1 surround track that does what it needs to do but not much more. Overall, the dynamic range here seems to lack low end, giving the sound a slightly thin and ungrounded quality, although there's plenty of detail in the score and ample punch in the jazz hands-inducing show tunes peppered throughout the film. The rear speakers get some infrequent but effective interaction, pumping out audience applause, footsteps, an air raid siren, and even a few modest cross-channel movements, like the panning motion of the Hitler's plane. I did notice that the dialogue seems occasionally low in the mix, which prompted me to bump up the volume a bit from time to time. Still, I had no trouble understanding anything, and there are no weird audio anomalies, like hissing or dropouts, to report. While To Be or Not To Be won't tax your home theater system, this lossless track is more than adequate for the film's audio needs. The disc also includes an English Dolby Surround track, French and Spanish mono mixes, a Portuguese Dolby Digital 5.1 track, and English SDH, Spanish, Portuguese, Cantonese, Korean, and Mandarin subtitles. Spaceballs (9/10) With one of the more raucous mixes in The Mel Brooks Collection, Spaceballs' DTS-HD Master Audio 5.1 surround track provides a sweeping dynamic range, frequent usage of the rear speakers, and an overall experience that easily trounces any previous home video iterations of the film. John Morris' score, which parodies John Williams' portentous themes for Star Wars and even Jaws, emerges from all channels with bombast and detail. And the other music in the film, including Bon Jovi's "Raise Your Hands," rocks just as hard. Most impressive, however, is the attention given to creating a soundstage that is full, immersive, and accurate—something you don't always expect from a comedy. Granted, this is no mere comedy— it's Mel Brook's riffing on outer-space epics—so the sound effects and audio design have to be just as effective as those in the material that Brooks is spoofing. Laser blasts rip holes through the surrounds, Lone Starr's Winnebago crashes between channels, and light sabers crackle and cross. We get plenty of soundfield-filling ambience and even some rumbling LFE engagement here and there. Combine all that with excellent dialogue reproduction and a hassle-free balance, and you have a track that defies expectations of what a 1980s comedy should sound like. The disc also includes an English stereo track, French, Latin Spanish, Castilian Spanish, German, Italian, Hungarian, and Portuguese Dolby Digital 5.1 mixes, as well as English SDH, French, German, Italian, Latin Spanish, Castilian Spanish, Portuguese, Dutch, Danish, Finnish, Norwegian, Swedish, and Hungarian subtitles. Robin Hood: Men in Tights (8/10) One of the highlights of this disc is the excellent DTS-HD Master Audio 5.1 surround track that the film's been given. Not only does it offer a sound that's rich, detailed, and full, but it also features near-constant engagement of the rear channels. If you listen to the opening theme of John Morris' score, you'll hear breathy flutes, horns that punch with a clean timbre, and satisfyingly clear strings. The music throughout is writ large and fills the soundstage from all sides. Likewise, the surround speakers are almost always in use. Flaming arrows rip through the air, glass shatters when a camera busts through Miriam's bathroom window, a cauldron bubbles, horses trot, and the motion of a catapult swings through the rear channels. Even when there's no action on screen, you'll hear crickets, babbling streams, and other sources of woodsy ambience in Sherwood Forest. There are even a few instance of impressive LFE usage, like when Robin Hood's family castle gets towed away. Last but not least, dialogue is effectively reproduced and balanced, leaving no line unheard. The disc also includes English, French, and Spanish Dolby Surround tracks, and English SDH and Spanish subtitles. Supplements A Note on the Packaging The Mel Brooks Collection arrives in a sturdy cardboard case, sized to accommodate the included 119-page book, that will likely infuriate shelf-purists who like their Blu-rays lined up in neat, organized rows. I don't really have a problem with the size, though I'm still trying to figure out where to put the thing, but I'm not exactly enamored with the flimsier interior cardboard case used to house the nine discs. I can easily see the case falling apart or getting beaten up with too much use, so you'll want to be gentle when flipping through the pages. On the plus side, the hardcover book is excellent, with chapters devoted to each film in the collection. Now, on to the goodies: The Twelve Chairs (1/10) Trailers Includes high definition trailers for High Anxiety, History of the World Part I, Robin Hood: Men in Tights, Silent Movie, To Be or Not to Be, Young Frankenstein. Blazing Saddles (6/10) Any owners of the 30th Anniversary Edition DVD of Blazing Saddles will be immediately familiar with the special features offered here. All features are in standard definition. Back in the Saddle (28:21) I found this short retrospective enlightening, especially regarding the genesis of the story and the writing process with Richard Pryor. Mel Brooks, writer Andrew Bergman, producer Michael Hertzberg, and several cast members provide plenty of insight into the audacity and controversial nature of the film. Intimate Portrait: Madeline Kahn (3:40, excerpt) The back of the Blu-ray case is misleading in calling this short featurette a "documentary." Basically, it's a brief tribute the wonderful Madeline Kahn, and it's a shame we couldn't have gotten the Lifetime TV special from which this was excerpted. Black Bart: 1975 Pilot Episode of the Proposed TV Series Spin-off It's clear why this concept wouldn't work well on television--the racial attitudes are a bit too fierce for primetime. None of the principal actors return, and the laugh track cheapens the deal. Commentary by Director Mel Brooks This commentary is very detached from the actual film. It seems like someone just set up a microphone, let Mel Brooks tell some stories about Blazing Saddles, and then let his ramblings play over the movie. Deleted Scenes (9:40) Theatrical Trailer (2:14) Young Frankenstein (10/10) Commentary by Mel Brooks What can I say? This commentary by Mel Brooks is like manna from heaven. Full of insights and stories, Brooks delivers the goods here, only occasionally slowing down. This commentary makes a great pairing with the also-included trivia track. Inside the Lab: Secret Formulas in the Making of Young Frankenstein This all-new picture-in-picture feature allows Mel Brooks and a whole host of associated film historians, screenwriters, and actors to comment on the movie's creation and legacy. Brooks starts with a ringing endorsement for Blu-ray—He says before Blu-ray he looked like Quasimodo, but now he looks like Daffy Duck—and the eleven segments that play intermittently throughout the film focus mostly on comparisons to earlier Frankenstein movies. If your Blu-ray player is BonusView-enabled, then this picture-in-picture special feature can be viewed while watching the film. If you don't have BonusView capabilities, or if you just want to watch the clips separately, you can select them from a menu. The standard definition clips include: Sources of Inspiration (5:23), Transylvania Station (3:52), Grave Robbing (1:18), Stealing a Brain (2:27), the Creation (2:51), Inspector Kemp (2:31), The Monster and Helga (1:54), Harold the Hermit (2:36), Puttin' on the Ritz (2:54), Storming the Castle (2:08), and The Monster's Bride (2:21). Deleted Scenes The special features menu actually gives you the choice of standard definition deleted scenes and high definition deleted scenes. Remarkably, there's no overlap between the two. "Deleted Scenes SD" (SD, 16:27 total) includes seven excised clips, and "Deleted Scenes HD" (1080p, 25:01 total) features seventeen cuts and alternate takes. There's some great stuff in here. It's Alive! Creating a Monster Classic (1080i, 31:16) "It's the best movie I think I've made," says Mel Brooks, introducing this spectacular new making-of documentary. In five parts, the features covers the genesis of the story, the remarkable cast, the happy atmosphere on set, the film's tone and timing, and its status as an immortal comedy. Making FrankenSense of Young Frankenstein (SD, 41:52) This older documentary covers a lot of the same ground as the above, but is definitely worth watching because of the involvement of Gene Wilder, who leads us through the making of the film. Transylvanian Lullaby: The Music of John Morris (1080i, 10:29) John Morris and Mel Brooks are an almost inseparable team, and this new documentary focuses on Morris' spectacular work on Young Frankenstein. The Franken-Track: A Monstrous Conglomeration of Trivia Turn this feature on to view near-constant pop-up video-style trivia while watching the film. Production Photographs (SD, 36:15) Yes, 36 minutes of production photographs. Thankfully, you can skip forward via your remote. Mexican Interviews (SD, 6:38 total) Includes interview with Marty Feldman, Gene Wilder, and Cloris Leachman. Blucher Button Hit this button to hear a horse whinny. Pointless but fun. The disc also includes, Outtakes (SD, 5:01), TV Spots (SD, 3:21), Trailers (SD, 7:07), and an Isolated Score Track (DTS-HD Master Audio 5.1). Silent Movie (5/10) Silent Laughter: The Reel Inspirations of Silent Movie (1080i, 24:46) Fox doles out another excellent new documentary here that examines the influence of silent film stars, especially Buster Keaton, on the creation of Brooks' own Silent Movie. Features interviews with Brooks, writer Alan Spencer, author Jeffrey Vance, actor Dom DeLuise, etc. Speak Up! Historical Hollywood Trivia Track This trivia track gives some insight into how Silent Movie draws from and is inspired by the silent classics of the early 20th century. Trailers Includes the theatrical trailer (1080p, 1:56), the Portuguese trailer (SD, 1:37), and the Spanish trailer (SD, 1:37). Mel Brooks Trailers Includes high definition trailers for High Anxiety, History of the World Part I, Robin Hood: Men in Tights, To Be or Not To Be, and Young Frankenstein. High Anxiety (5/10) Hitchcock and Mel: Spoofing the Master of Suspense (1080p, 29:20) Featuring interviews with Mel Brooks, Hitchcock's granddaughter Mary Stone, and many others, this new documentary pulls out many of the Hitchcock references in High Anxiety and reveals the amiable relationship between the master of comedy and the master of suspense. The "Am I Very Very Nervous?" Test Turn this feature on, and while you're watching the film multiple-choice questions will pop up to gauge just how nervous you are. Some of the questions are pretty funny—I tested the first 15 minutes—but I can't see myself being committed to the quiz throughout the film. Don't Get Anxious! The Trivia of Hitchcock Like the title implies, this pop-up trivia track focuses mostly on the Hitchcock references in the film. Theatrical Trailer (1080p, 2:41) Mel Brooks Trailers Includes high definition trailers for History of the World Part I, Robin Hood: Men in Tights, Silent Movie, To Be or Not To Be, and Young Frankenstein. Isolated Score Track (DTS-HD Master Audio 5.1) History of the World Part I (5/10) Musical Mel: Inventing "The Inquisition" (1080p, 10:40) "What do you do to the Spanish Inquisition to make it palatable? You make it a musical," says composer John Morris, introducing Mel Brooks' uncanny ability to turn uncomfortable historical periods into epochs ripe for comedy. While the main focus is on the big Spanish Inquisition song and dance number, Broadway director Susan Stroman, choreographer Alan Johnson, producer Stuart Cornfeld and other all confer on the state of Mel Brooks' brilliantly musical mind. Making History: Mel Brooks on Creating the World (1080p, 10:04) While not as comprehensive as some of the other new documentaries created for this collection, Making History gives a decent overview of the film, with a special emphasis on Mel Brooks' talents as a world-class "bullshit artist." The Real History of the World Trivia Track "Don't know much about history? And for some reason you don't trust Mel Brooks? Well, pal, you're in luck. Here's your chance to learn just enough history to look like a know-it-all, plus just enough about the making of this movie to impress Mel Brooks." So starts this pop-up track, which combines world history facts with trivia from the film. Mel Brooks Trailers Includes high definition trailers for High Anxiety, Robin Hood: Men in Tights, Silent Movie, To Be or Not To Be, and Young Frankenstein. Theatrical Trailer (1080p, 3:04) Isolated Score Track (DTS-HD Master Audio 5.1) To Be or Not To Be (4/10) Brooks and Bancroft: A Perfect Pair (1080p, 14:49) There aren't too many Hollywood marital success stories, but the pairing of Brooks and Bancroft was one of the greats. Here, many of their friends and co-workers comment on what made them so special together. How Serious Can Mel Brooks Really Get? (SD, 2:46) This vintage promo piece includes a short synopsis, clips from the film, and brief interviews with Mel Brooks. Profiles (SD) Includes three short archival interviews with Mel Brooks (2:39), Anne Bancroft (2:03), and Charles Durning (2:33). To Be or Not To Be: That is the Trivia! Man, they just keep coming up with witty names for these pop-up trivia tracks. Mel Brooks Trailers Includes high definition trailers for High Anxiety, History of the World Part I, Robin Hood: Men in Tights, and Silent Movie. Trailers Includes the theatrical trailer (1080p, 3:21) and the Portuguese trailer (SD, 3:24). Isolated Score Track (DTS-HD Master Audio 5.1) Spaceballs (8/10) Commentary by Mel Brooks Brooks offers up another wry, chuckle-filled commentary, though I couldn't get into this one as much as the excellent track he gives on the Young Frankenstein disc. Expect lots of little stories, some production details, and perhaps a few too many instances when Brooks simply points out what's going on onscreen. Spaceballs: The Documentary (SD, 30:04) "A funny effect is a real effect with some extension," says Mel Brooks, who introduces the importance of the film's special effects in selling the comedy. In addition to examining the visual effects, this documentary includes interviews with a lot of the cast and crew, and clips from the film. In Conversation: Mel Brooks & Thomas Meehan (SD, 20:30) Here, Mel and writing collaborator Thomas Meehan have a long discussion about process of writing the film. Well worth watching for Spaceballs fans and writers alike. John Candy: Comic Spirit (SD, 10:02) A tribute to the late, great comic mastermind, featuring interviews with his biographer, several members of the Spaceballs cast, and some archive interviews of John Candy himself. Watch the Movie in Ludicrous Speed! (1080p, 00:29) Exactly what it sounds like. See the whole film in thirty seconds! Still Galleries Features an art gallery, a costume gallery, and a gallery of behind-the-scenes photos. Trailers Includes the Exhibitor Trailer with Mel Brooks Introduction (SD, 2:12), and the film's theatrical trailer (SD, 2:30). Film Flubs (SD) There are six short clips here, each one devoted to pointing out one of the film's flubs. Storyboard to Film Comparison (SD, 6:41) Robin Hood: Men in Tights (6/10) LaserDisc Commentary with Mel Brooks A blast from the past, i.e., the early days of director's commentaries. Mel points out a lot of obvious stuff here, but he's also really funny—no surprise—and he gives some great stories about the production of the film. Funny Men in Tights: Three Generations of Comedy (1080i, 13:49) Between the old guard of Dom DeLuise and Dick Van Patton, and newcomers like Dave Chappelle, Men in Tights features three generations of comedic titans. This retrospective takes a cheery look back on the making of the film and features interviews with a few of Brooks' regulars. Robin Hood: Men in Tights - The Legend Had it Coming (SD, 26:14) This vintage HBO special is quite good, actually, and includes lots of behind-the-scenes action, plenty of cast interviews, and a look at the creation of some of the film's action sequences. Theatrical Trailer (1080p, 1:13) Mel Brooks Trailers Includes high definition trailers for High Anxiety, History of the World Part I, Silent Movie, To Be or Not To Be, and Young Frankenstein. Isolated Score Track (DTS-HD Master Audio 5.1) Final words  What else is left to say? If you're a hardcore Mel Brooks aficionado, you've likely already picked up Blazing Saddles, Young Frankenstein, and Spaceballs on Blu-ray, making this nine disc set a little less appealing, especially considering that individual releases for all the films should be forthcoming. For all you holdouts, though, who surmised this box set was in the pipeline, The Mel Brooks Collection would make an excellent purchase or gift. With the noticeable exclusion of The Producers, the collection gathers together nine of Brooks' best films and presents them with beautiful high definition transfers, capable lossless audio tracks, and a generous helping of supplementary features. It's good to be the king, but it's also good to be one of his followers. 
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