There is a considerably solid canon of filmmakers that were driven by the desire to shock and provoke – some of them did it to push boundaries, others to expose the darker side of humanity, which they perceived as being concealed under layers of socially-mandated conventions that hide certain issues from public views. Perhaps the most interesting group are those that did it for the sake of entertainment, making films that were intentionally bizarre and off-the-wall in the humour, solely for the reason of seeing the extent to which he can push the audience before they walk away – and there have been fewer artists that have benefitted from such a sardonic approach to filmmaking than Mel Brooks, who has gone from beloved dance-hall ham (who got his start at the tail-end of the vaudeville era, being one of the last true comics to make a legitimate career out of the now-extinct style of entertainment – if only we could return to those days of debonair debauchery and endearing excess) to one of the most cherished and important comedic directors of his generation. This year, we’re exploring Brooks in detail, and we’re starting with The Producers, which was also coincidentally his directorial debut. It is easy to get distracted by the revival this story had, with the astronomically successful Broadway musical that has been a mainstay of the theatre world for over two decades, as well as the later film adaptation (which I maintain is an exceptional film) being wildly popular and the aspects that we tend to remember the most, especially since Brooks was at the helm of all of these productions in some way. However, it’s important to remember the origins of these cherished properties, and while the original version of The Producers may seem almost insignificant in comparison to the broad scope of the musical adaptation, it is still a masterful, brilliantly-made comedic gem that continuously reminds us of Brooks’ enormous complexity as a filmmaker, a director with a keen vision and a strong sense of artistic virtue that he may express in increasingly bizarre ways, but where each choice he makes feels essential and, most importantly, undeniably hilarious.

It’s actually quite bewildering to imagine that The Producers was Brooks’ debut as a director – it exudes the aura of being made by a seasoned veteran, a master of his craft that is already well-established enough to make something as cynical and barbed as this masterful satire. We can attribute this to years of writing and performing on stage and television, honing his craft alongside some of his cherished friends like Carl Reiner and Sid Caesar, who emerged as equally talented at a time when comedy was undergoing a major shift, which Brooks’ films later seemed to capture better than most of his contemporaries. There’s a freshness to The Producers that is also quite distinct – this is a comedy that stands at the perfect intersection between the Golden Age of Hollywood, where humour was defined by over-the-top antics with an atmosphere of theatricality, and New Hollywood, where it became a lot more subversive and satirical in a manner that was often quite unsettling for those used to more clean, concise humour. Brooks has always been a troublemaker in the best sense, and his intentions as a director were always to stir the proverbial pot in new ways – and as a result, he assembles comedies from various fragments that inspire him. This ultimately led to his run of very successful parody films starting in the 1970s and extending towards the end of his directorial career (after which he continued to work in the industry in slightly different forms), and while The Producers isn’t quite in the same vein as these films, we can see how the director was peering back on the kinds of comedies that we being produced at the time, which he blends with his own fondness for vaudeville, creating a spectacularly funny and incredible subversive dark comedy that was quite unlike anything seen at the time, and yet it feels so self-reflective of a very specific moment in the culture, almost as if Brooks was preempting the conversations that would be had about this era in later decades before the period was even over, which is certainly not the first time he demonstrated some degree of uncanny prognostication.

It’s unsurprising that The Producers carries such immense cultural cache, since in addition to being a well-constructed comedy on its own, it has become a touchstone of modern culture, a highly-influential work that kickstarted not only Brooks’ directorial career, but inspired a generation of comedians to take their own high-concept ideas and transform them into films. It does help that the central premise of this film is very simple, and the execution as unfurnished and straightforward as it could possibly be, while still having that sense of devil-may-care fearlessness that indicated a director was not afraid of the repercussions they may receive from doing something so outrageous and against the status quo, which is precisely where The Producers is at its best, when it is actively working against social conventions, often to hilarious effect. A recurring motif in all of Brooks’ comedy has been around seeing how far he can take a single joke – even prior to starting the parody films that defined his career, Brooks crafted films that were driven by very simple ideas, using them to carefully and concisely lampoon any of the specific social or cultural (or even political and historical, since these were not off-limits for comedians at the time, many doing some of their best work while skirting around the edges of decency) niches that were foundational to the story – and here we have a film that centres on a pair of down-on-their-luck producers trying to earn a living through searching for the most offensive production possible, which eventually leads them to a piece of Nazi propaganda, which serves as the basis for many of this film’s most delightfully shocking and irreverent aspects, and the components for which it is most fondly remembered, and some may even dare say celebrated. This is a sign of exceptionally well-made satire, and Brooks has never been one to shy away from bold and ambitious depictions of the most darkly comical humour imaginable. As one of our great provocateurs once family quipped, it takes an enormous amount of good taste to understand and appreciate bad taste, and Brooks absolutely set the foundation for this style of comedy. Some of these satirical jabs are still shocking by modern standards, and even contemporary viewers may be slightly surprised at how far this film is willing to go in order to make the audience laugh, retaining a timeless quality that still provokes us, with Brooks frequently reminding us of the importance of looking at intention over delivery, since both are of vital importance, and it’s all a matter of perspective when it comes to something like comedy.

Brooks was fervent in his desire to cast the right actors to play the two central roles, with Zero Mostel being the prime candidate for the part of Max Bialystock, one of the most delightfully deplorable anti-heroes of the past century. Mostel made his living as an enormous success ham of an actor – to him, going over the top was not a criticism but rather a challenge, one that he regularly aimed to overcome, holding the record for about as long as he was working, making him one of our most endearing actors when it comes to pure excess. Yet, despite his penchant for playing to the rafters, Mostel finds himself frequently reigned in by Brooks, who sought to exploit those eccentric charms that defined the actor (he was the first choice for the role, and it is difficult to imagine anyone else reaching his level of exceptional brilliance), but also didn’t want it to derail the entire production, navigating a very narrow boundary between the two. The result is a deliriously off-the-wall performance by an actor who worked without any filter, and managed to overplay every scene to the point where it began to seem natural, which is one of the many contradictions that help keep this film buoyant. However, anyone will tell you that good acting is simply a matter of being well-versed as reacting, which is where a lot of the humour in The Producers is introduced – Mostel can only be funny if there is another character to be his foil, and one could not ask for a more brilliant screen partner than the exceptional Gene Wilder, who starts his own professional partnership with Brooks by taking on the part of the milquetoast Leopold Bloom, who is essentially the antithesis of Bialystock at the start – whereas Mostel is playing a viciously greedy and almost barbaric hedonist, Wilder’s character is principled, timid and honest – but they eventually become one and the same by the end, Wilder keeping up with the mile-a-minute pace that Mostel set for their pairing, leading to a truly extraordinary pair of performances that are so much more complex and nuanced than they would seem at a cursory glance.

It is not a surprise that many have cited The Producers as a very influential comedy – Brian Eno’s famous quote about every artist that bought The Velvet Underground’s first record ended up starting a band can somehow be applied to this film, whereby so many people who saw The Producers ended up working in comedy, whether behind the scenes or in front of the camera. It’s often cited as your favourite comedian’s favourite comedy, which is an enormous statement for any film, but one that The Producers has carried with pride for over half a century, being as funny today as it was when it was released – perhaps even more so based on how Brooks seemed to be anticipating many real aspects of modern culture, from the cult-like fascination with political leaders to the corruption of the entertainment industry, which is built on exploitation and manipulation long before the idea of artistic integrity is even considered. Nothing ages quite as perfectly as well-made satire, and Brooks is certainly not someone whose work should be underestimated in any way, especially not his earlier films, which have been thornier and less polished, but have a deep complexity in both theory and execution that makes them smart and insightful, as well as wickedly funny and deeply subversive, which is perhaps what is so captivating about the film as a whole, since it is beyond progressive, thinking forward in a way that not even the greatest satires of this era could have achieved, doing it all with simplicity and panache that many of us may not have necessarily expected. The Producers is quite simply one of the funniest films ever made, and it warrants every bit of acclaim and attention that it has received over the past few decades, where it has become not only a celebrated musical, but a story that is both prescient and foreboding of the current state of the industry, being one of the rare instances of a film so unafraid of courting controversy, it forged a path for many similar films that were set to follow, being as influential today as it was when it was first introduced to unexpecting audiences, none of whom could have been prepared for the chaos incited by this film.