When the proverbial definitive history of 20th-century comedy is written, it would be shocking to see anyone other than Mel Brooks credited as perhaps the most influential creative mind of the back half of the century since his impact has loomed so enormously over contemporary humour, we have to wonder whether American comedy would be what it is today had he never leaped becoming a comedian. One doesn’t need to look very long to realize his genius is widespread, and while many aspects of his work tend to be worth discussing, we can essentially condense his entire creative career into one simple trait: the willingness to take risks. The majority of his films, television shows and stage performances are driven by the sense that he conceived of an idea, and brought it to life, regardless of how wacky or unfeasible it may have seemed in theory. One of the works in which he directly portrays this comes in the form of Silent Movie, which has the unenviable task of following Blazing Saddles and Young Frankenstein, two of the most ambitious comedies of the 1970s, as well as being followed by High Anxiety, which is steadily gaining a following that is putting it on par with most of his better films. It is the one most people forget about when discussing this landmark decade for the director, but yet also one of his very best projects, one that has stood the test of time better than most. It’s a joyful experience to leap into the past and discuss this film, since not only is Silent Movie one of Brooks’ most intriguing projects, but remains one of the most bitingly funny Hollywood satires ever made, and nearly half a century later, it remains so incredibly fresh and entertaining, it is impossible to not find a lot of value in this brilliantly deranged pastiche to the past.

Self-referential cinema is fantastic, but it needs to be done well, or else it can come across as gauche and uninteresting, which is something that Brooks has always kept in mind. It’s difficult to find one of his spoofs that doesn’t contain some element of metafictional content, whether they are oblique references to the modern day, or simply a process where the action devolves into being a direct parody of the Hollywood system, as we saw in Blazing Saddles, perhaps the funniest conclusion in a film. Silent Movie takes a very direct approach to satirizing the film industry, looking at the experiences of “Mel Funn” and his colleagues “Dom Bell” and “Marty Eggs” as they set out to make a silent film in the 1970s, which studio executives collectively agree is not possible – the intentional irony is not lost on any viewer since this is indeed a silent film made in the 1970s, and whether or not Brooks was faced with the same hostility when conceiving of this film isn’t clear (although one would imagine that after some of his cinematic antics proved to be wildly successful, there is nary a studio executive who would not at least place some partial blind faith in the director to deliver something solid), but it doesn’t stop him from crafting a genuinely terrific comedy with multiple exceptionally funny ideas that are easily deconstructed and reconfigured into a satire that sits on the cutting edge of this revolutionary era of comedy. It features the most simple premise that feels authentic and earned, and we often find that the best moments are those in which Brooks is allowed to be slightly more self-reflective, not in a dramatic sense but rather in looking at his situation as a filmmaker working in a challenging industry, especially as someone who built his career from not only break the rules but entirely rewriting how they function.

An aspect of Brooks’ parodies that sometimes fail to make it into a lot of conversations around his work is that they are not just narrow-minded spoofs, but rather genuinely terrific entries into the genres that they are lampooning and that he makes them in the same way a serious filmmaker would approach these films, which gives them depth and nuance that we may sometimes overlook. Silent Movie is just as exceptional in this regard and remains one of the most entertaining examples of silent cinema we’ve seen produced during the sound era. There have been many attempts to make throwbacks to these films, whether through intentional pastiches or simply making films in which dialogue is kept to a minimum, showing the value of the visual channel as a form of storytelling. This film takes the form of a classic slapstick comedy, and while it would have been tempting to have everything collapse into a bundle of self-referential hilarity, Brooks chooses to keep everything consistent and interesting, all along the well-defined lines of the genre. The difference between his films and other parodies is that he is genuinely trying to pay tribute to these genres – he doesn’t look at them as being beneath him, or as anything he can necessarily conquer or challenge, but rather styles of filmmaking that set the foundation for Hollywood. He may not be afraid of eviscerating them and drawing on their cliches, but it all feels like an affectionate homage, rather than an attempt to show disdain, which is an important element that drives most of this film and makes it so beautifully compelling in unexpected ways. As a student of comedy, Brooks makes sure to pay sufficient tribute to the comedians that came before him, and in the process, we find that Silent Movie bridges the gap between the Golden Age of Hollywood and the newer generation, an unexpected development that feels remarkably concise and extremely funny, and adds a lot of nuance to this already terrific film.

Much of the acclaim for Silent Movie has come from the cast – Brooks leads the film, with regular collaborators Marty Feldman and Dom DeLuise playing his sidekicks (both of whom are extremely funny, the trio embodying different kinds of physical humour), and are joined by a sprawling cast of familiar actors who agree to play small roles in this film. The structure of Silent Movie is very simple – the three main characters visit various famous actors, who they try to convince to star in their latest film, each taking place in a self-contained vignette, after which the actor exits the film, having done their small part to contribute to the big ensemble we encounter throughout. The likes of Paul Newman, Anne Bancroft (in one of the rare instances of her starring in one of her husband’s films), James Caan, Burt Reynolds and Liza Minnelli all show-up and prove that they are the definition of Hollywood royalty, delivering hilarious and charming performances that show how they would have likely succeeded just as well during the silent era as they did at their peak. It’s also worth mentioning the slightly larger roles played by Sid Caesar, who essentially gave Brooks his start in the industry, and the ageless Bernadette Peters, who is an absolute riot as the femme fatale who arrives late in the film but makes a profound impact. It is not the first Hollywood satire to populate itself with many major stars, but it is the rare instance where every one of them seems to be doing something valuable and interesting, rather than just lending their presence. Whether it is Bancroft performing the tango, Newman racing in a wheelchair or James Caan proving to be an unexpectedly excellent physical comedian, they’re all terrific, and their presence adds a level of metafictional charm to the proceedings, elevating the film and making it so effortlessly entertaining in ways that only Brooks could have curated with such vigour and hilarity.

A few years later, Brooks would release History of the World Part I, in which one of the most memorable moments was a performance of “It’s Good to Be the King”, sung by the director himself. In the 1970s, it must have been good to be Mel Brooks – he was arguably the most beloved comedic director who was essentially given a blank cheque to realize his absurd and deranged ideas, with the general belief being that, regardless of their concept, audiences would flock to cinemas to marvel at whatever bizarre masterpiece he had created at the time. Naturally, it wasn’t unearned – he received the reviews he deserved most of the time (even if some of the reactions to his later work would be slightly harsh), which meant that there was never any feeling that there was over-inflated adoration for his work. The acclaim he received was deserving and tempered appropriately, and the gradual recognition of his lesser-praised works as secretly masterpieces only added to his unimpeachable legacy. There are many reasons to adore Silent Movie, and Brooks has once again shown that he is a master of his craft, a delightful and irreverent comedic genius with strong ideas and a forthright willingness to challenge conventions in a way that is never anything short of remarkable. Bitingly funny, outwardly bizarre and always compelling, Brooks has made yet another tremendously entertaining film, using his status as one of cinema’s most successful professional troublemakers to subvert and redefine how we view Hollywood. It may be obvious and the novelty can wear off after a while, but there is still so much delight to be found scattered throughout this film, which is a true delight in every way.