We’re truly fortunate to be living at the same time as Mel Brooks – I have a sincere appreciation for comedy as an artform, and few people have made as much of an impression on the subject of humour than Brooks, who has single-handedly helped bring about some of the most revolutionary developments in the history of the medium – and he did it all with incredible panache and extraordinary dedication to his craft. Now in his autumnal years, and having recently received an Honorary Academy Award for his contributions to cinema, it seemed like the perfect opportunity to reflect on his career and how incredibly influential it has proven to be. He is a multifaceted artist, and entire essays could be written on any number of subjects related to his career, whether it be his origins in vaudeville, to his contributions to television, to his partnerships with Carl Reiner and Anne Bancroft, his two most important collaborators. However, our approach is going to attempt a more holistic analysis of his place in the industry by looking at the films he directed. As much as we can wax poetic about the brilliance of The 20,000 Year Old Man or his acting work, it is as a writer and director where he made the most substantial impact, which is why it is such a delight to be able to do this retrospective, since his films convey everything that made Brooks such an extraordinary artist, and which has helped us develop an even more profound appreciation for his work, which has yet to wane in terms of popularity or impact, which is the kind of legacy any artist would strive to leave behind, and what a pleasure it is to know that Brooks is still with us, witnessing the continued admiration for his work.

Comedy is undeniably fickle, and there are as many masterpieces of the genre as there are hopelessly bland works that have aged poorly. Yet, despite it being several decades since he made his directorial debut, not a single one of Brooks’ films has faced the obstacle of being seen as irrelevant. Of course, some of the humour is of a different time, and anyone who tries to view this kind of comedy through an exclusively modern lens will be both wasting their time and doing the director’s work a great disservice. The question that we constantly ask is around the precise quality that makes Brooks’ work so timeless – the premises are simple, and they are usually comedies in which the humour is constructed through aiming for the low-hanging fruit, which is usually seen as a flaw, when in reality it is something that Brooks showed can be used effectively to make more interesting observations. Most of his work has been within the realm of the spoof film, a sub-genre that he helped pioneer over the years, working laboriously to create earnest comedies that take common ideas and rework them to be outrageously funny. The genre has earned a bad reputation, primarily due to the lacklustre (and sometimes outright awful) direction taken with many filmmakers who believe parody is just about finding the most obnoxious ways to tell a joke, when in reality, filmmakers like Brooks developed a much stronger attention to detail that was concealed under the wacky, off-the-wall humour. Each one of his films, even those lower on the list, demonstrates the mastery of his craft, and it feels genuinely quite impressive the extent to which he was willing to go to create these films, which are as outrageously funny and insightful today as they were decades ago. Smart and bizarre in equal measure, his work is absolutely incredible and deserves to be viewed as one of the most revolutionary careers in comedy.

There isn’t too much point in relitigating his genius, since reading each review, his brilliance has been underlined and discussed in detail – therefore, without any further ado, and in the spirit of Brooks and his tendency to get right to the point, here is my definitive ranking of the director’s work, based on several factors that help determine how each work compares to both the others within his illustrious career, and the many directors that he influenced over the decades.

When doing these retrospectives, it’s always difficult to select the films that stand at either end of the list, especially the bottom placement. Brooks is a director who has earned a certain degree of reverence, so it almost seems inappropriate to consider any of his films as being that bad – but the nature of a list is that something should populate that final spot. In this case, Robin Hood: Men in Tights earns the title not because it is necessarily bad, but rather it has the most undercooked of his ideas – the spark that made his earlier work so brilliant is almost entirely missing, and the overall experience is not always able to draw out much enthusiasm, instead just feeling like the director going through the motions of making yet another spoof, but one without the same amount of detail or complexity. It is Brooks at his most lazy (a term I don’t use lightly), and perhaps the only time it felt like he was resting on his laurels without any merit coming out as a result. A fine cast and a few funny moments do keep us entertained, but it’s perhaps the most forgettable of his directorial works, and unfortunately for a director who has strived on his ability to capture our attention, that’s an unfortunate trait of a middling film that doesn’t represent the very best of his career. (full review)

For many people, Spaceballs was the moment Brooks’ career started to take a slight downturn. Suddenly, he wasn’t making films that were almost universally celebrated and acclaimed, but rather a fun but slight science fiction satire that reveals some of the limitations that would go on to characterise a lot of his later work. While it lacks the sharpness and originality of his better parodies, it is still clear that Brooks held sincere affection for both the science fiction genre and the Star Wars franchise as a whole and ensures that he is still making a film that is appealing to a wider audience. The film offers many amusing moments and inventive ideas that show that the spark of ingenuity wasn’t entirely extinguished, just slightly dimmed by ambition. It does tend to rely on very obvious references, and its story is quite uneven, which prevents it from reaching its full potential. Nevertheless, the cast is great (with John Candy and Rick Moranis being the standouts), bringing out the comedic brilliance that elevates some of the more paltry material. It may never achieve the clever satirical depths of Brooks’ earlier works, but it remains a charming and frequently entertaining effort that may contain shortcomings, but which are ultimately easy to forgive because of the enthusiasm and genuine audacity flowing throughout the film.

Like any other director, Brooks did attempt something different at some points, with Life Stinks being one of two major diversions from his usual work. Still a comedy, albeit one that was not a spoof, but rather a more straightforward narrative, the film sees the director attempting a different kind of humour, one that is not based on existing subjects, but rather satirising something broader, namely the concept of capitalism and consumerism. It’s not bad, but it does feel like he was slightly out of his comfort zone – it’s still hilarious and has genuinely fantastic moments, but for the most part, it is a middling effort that doesn’t quite reach the heights of his other work. It does earn points for its devil-may-care attitude towards modern culture, not being afraid to expose the hypocrisy of the middle class and their supposed feelings of superiority in a free-market economy, but for the most part, Life Stinks is solid but unremarkable, which means that it doesn’t stick out for either the right or wrong reasons, but instead exists as an experiment, which may not have worked out as well as it perhaps intended, but is still worth our time, even if only to see his viciously deconstruct capitalism and its frequently broken promises. (full review)

As Brooks’ final directorial outing to date (but realistically, I doubt we’ll see him returning to the director’s chair anytime soon), Dracula: Dead and Loving It occupies a peculiar place in his career. It is far from his finest work, but it is also somehow better than its reputation would suggest. Much of the disappointment surrounding the film comes from the impossible standards associated with the director’s name, since judged against the other parodies that appear higher on this list, it inevitably falls short, especially considering it doesn’t have the same scope of ambition or genuine interest in pursuing anything deeper than what we can see on the surface. However, viewed on its own terms, we find that it is still a mildly amusing spoof anchored by the inspired pairing of Brooks and Leslie Nielsen, another titan of the parody genre, becoming a collaboration between two masters of broad comedy operating on remarkably similar wavelengths. While it lacks the inventive spark, precision and cultural sharpness that defined the director at his peak, it remains amiable and consistently entertaining, buoyed by a handful of genuinely funny moments and a clear affection for its material, one of the key criteria for a successful parody. Ultimately, it is less of a failure and more of a minor work from a major artist, a slightly disappointing swan song that has enough charm and humour to justify its existence.

Considering it is overshadowed by the more famous titles in Brooks’ filmography, The Twelve Chairs is one of his most underrated achievements and among his most unexpectedly mature works, which is surprising considering it is only his second film. Adapting the celebrated Russian novel by Ilya Ilf and Yevgeny Petrov, Brooks demonstrates a remarkable balance between faithful literary adaptation and his own distinctive comic sensibilities, blending the two into a fascinating and often quite poetic comedy. Rather than relying on the relentless absurdity that would define many of his later films and which he’d go on to perfect, he embraces both the humour and melancholy embedded within the source material, crafting a satire that is as thoughtful as it is entertaining, which is not an easy achievement. The film’s central success rests largely on the superb performances of Ron Moody and Frank Langella, whose sincerity (and refusal to lean into the humour, playing it completely straight) grounds the comedy and allows Brooks to explore deeper themes of social upheaval, disillusionment, and human resilience. Rich in historical texture, surprisingly poignant, and consistently engaging, The Twelve Chairs reveals a different side of Brooks as a filmmaker, one that is capable of genuine dramatic depth without sacrificing the wit, warmth, and intelligence that made him a master of his craft. It may not be a defining work, but it certainly deserves some kind of re-evaluation as a film far better than its reputation may suggest.

There came a point where it seemed like Brooks was trying to lampoon every genre, and part of the appeal was how he would make each one inventive and unique in their own way – a good parody needs to be just as solid as the subject it is mocking, while still having a substantial degree of merit in its own right. In the case of Silent Movie, we see Brooks take a cue from his comedic forefathers, who made their living in the silent era, where the human face and body was the primary vessel for entire stories, long before spoken word arrived and made the medium more verbose. Paying tribute to heroes like Harold Lloyd and Buster Keaton, Brooks spends his time crafting a hilarious and off-the-wall comedy that may not be particularly complex, but still manages to be wildly entertaining. Taking the form of a stream of episodic moments centered around a group of actors setting out to make a film that pays tribute to the silent era (which is in itself part of the charm of this film, which is a masterclass in metafictional storytelling), the film is outrageously funny, especially in how it is filled to the brim with iconic Hollywood stars, all of which do their part to pay tribute to the industry’s origin, which is so beautifully captured in vivid colour by a director who clearly has a fondness for the subject matter.

History of the World, Part I represents  Brooks at his most ambitious, taking the seemingly impossible task of condensing human history into a series of wildly inventive comedic vignettes and turning it into one of his most memorable films, and one that has aged remarkably well. Moving beyond the straightforward parody format he had perfected, Brooks embraces an anthology structure that allows him to explore different eras with his trademark irreverence, intelligence, and boundless enthusiasm, which alone makes the film worth watching. Anchored by segments set in the Roman Empire and the French Revolution, with occasional shorter diversions into other periods, the film showcases the director’s ability to balance absurd humour with carefully constructed comedy, supported by a remarkable ensemble including Gregory Hines, Madeline Kahn, Dom DeLuise, and Harvey Korman, all of whom commit wholeheartedly to the director’s bizarre but compelling vision, trusting his process. Brooks himself remains the film’s greatest asset, delivering one of his funniest performances while proving once again that his old-fashioned showmanship remains uniquely compelling, with this perhaps being his greatest achievement in acting, at least amongst his own films. Though uneven and not quite matching the brilliance of his earlier classics in both scope and sheer absurdity, History of the World, Part I is a hilarious, energetic reminder of why Brooks remains one of cinema’s greatest comedic minds.

If there is a single film that encapsulates Mel Brooks’ genius as a filmmaker, it may well be Young Frankenstein – and even I’m surprised that it’s not the film that appears at the top of this list, for reasons we’ll get to momentarily. More than just a parody of the classic Universal horror films that Brooks grew up watching, it is a masterclass in how satire can simultaneously honour and reinvent its source material, launching an entire sub-genre that will remain the director’s greatest artistic contribution to the culture. Brooks and Gene Wilder approach the Frankenstein mythos with boundless affection, crafting a film that is not only outrageously funny but also remarkably sophisticated in its construction, being a deft blend of both physical humour and dark comedy. Every element works in harmony, whether it is Wilder’s inspired screenplay, Brooks’ assured direction, the stunning black-and-white cinematography, or one of the finest comedy ensembles ever assembled, featuring unforgettable work from Wilder, Cloris Leachman, Madeline Kahn, Peter Boyle, and the incomparable Marty Feldman, whose performance as Igor is one of the funniest of the decade. The precise quality that elevates Young Frankenstein above countless imitators is its commitment to the art of filmmaking as much as comedy, since it is visually gorgeous, meticulously crafted, and packed with unforgettable moments, while also being capable of surprising even the most seasoned of viewers. Few comedies have aged so gracefully, and fewer still can match its combination of intelligence, artistry, warmth, and sheer comic brilliance as this absolute masterpiece.

One of Mel Brooks’ most overlooked achievements, High Anxiety is a wonderful reminder of what made him the undisputed master of cinematic parody. A loving tribute to the films of Alfred Hitchcock (a filmmaker Brooks always admired), the film succeeds primarily because it understands that great satire requires both intelligence and affection for its subject, instead of simple mockery. Rather than simply stringing together obvious references, Brooks crafts a sharp, self-aware comedy that celebrates the style of Hitchcock and his peers in the thriller genre, while also constantly finding endless opportunities for inspired absurdity. The film is packed with memorable gags, clever visual humour, and a genuine sense of comic invention, all anchored by a strong performance from Brooks himself. Around him, an exceptional supporting cast, particularly Madeline Kahn and the scene-stealing Cloris Leachman (the latter in a performance that I consider even better than her stellar work in Young Frankenstein) elevates the material even further. What makes High Anxiety so special is the effortless balance it strikes between broad silliness and sophisticated filmmaking, proving that parody can be both uproariously funny and expertly constructed when done properly. Often overshadowed by Brooks’ more famous achievements, it nevertheless deserves recognition as one of the finest and most accomplished comedies of his career, and the one film I wholeheartedly believe another look more than most of the others in his filmography.

The choice for the film that would earn the title of Brooks’ personal best came down to two films, and ultimately it was decided that The Producers would narrowly miss out for reasons that we’ll outline below in relation to why the eventual winner was the more appropriate choice. However, this isn’t to suggest that this film is in any way not an exceptional piece of storytelling. Perhaps the greatest satire of the 1960s, The Producers not only launched Brooks’ career with one of the most ambitious debuts of all time, but it was also an early entry into the rapidly growing New Hollywood movement. Provocative in the best way possible, this film aimed to unsettle and challenge the status quo in a way we didn’t see often. It was elegant enough not to be viewed as going for cheap laughs, but it also possessed a complexity that made it a lot more intelligent than it may have seemed at first glance. Obviously, the film is not one that relies on subtlety (which has never been a part of Brooks’ artistic vocabulary), but it is still one that wears its heart on its sleeve and makes it very clear that it intended to dismantle the uptight, almost puritanical nature of Hollywood – and besides a few slight indications of it being a debut film, The Producers is a raw and extremely funny satire that essentially made it very clear that even the most taboo subjects were capable of being reworked into outrageous comedies, granted someone worthwhile stood at the helm.

I absolutely adore Blazing Saddles, which is not only one of Mel Brooks’ greatest achievements, but arguably the definitive expression of everything that made him a comedic genius, and a film that pushed boundaries so far that it remains provocative to the present day, which is not an easy achievement for a film made over fifty years ago. A deliriously inventive parody of the Western genre that doubles as a genuine appreciation for the films that inspired it (the hallmark of many of the director’s parodies), the film captures Brooks’ unmatched ability to balance absurdity, satire, and genuine craftsmanship, all of which are beautifully combined into this daring satire. Every element feels perfectly calibrated, from the fearless screenplay and outrageous visual gags to the unforgettable performances of Cleavon Little, Gene Wilder, Harvey Korman, and Madeline Kahn, who are all doing career-best work. What elevates the film beyond simple parody is Brooks’ understanding of tone: beneath the madness lies a filmmaker with immense respect for storytelling, willing to push boundaries while maintaining a sense of warmth and intelligence, which allowed this film to age brilliantly, and inspire future generations to make smart, interesting satires without aiming for the low-hanging fruit, which has sometimes been the case with the pale imitators of Brooks’ work. Though his career produced several masterpieces, Blazing Saddles remains his crowning achievement, a hilarious, endlessly rewatchable classic that represents the peak of his artistic vision and his unparalleled contribution to comedy.

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Unfortunately, it seems likely that Brooks is done with directing – the last film he helmed was nearly three decades ago, and seemingly content with semi-retirement that entails mostly writing (his memoir All About Me is one of the greatest pieces of Hollywood storytelling of the past decade, and essential reading for anyone with even the slightest interest in the history of the industry over the past half century) and acting appearances that show he is as dynamic as ever. It is certainly well-earned, especially since we’ve illustrated that he made major changes to how comedy is perceived, looking at it as far more than just making audiences laugh. This retrospective only proves Brooks’ genius vision and ability to redefine comedy, while also indicating that he is the very definition of a generational talent, a filmmaker who has a firm grasp on the collective pulse, influencing future filmmakers to pursue their own unique visions, regardless of how deranged they may be. Brooks is quite simply the king of comedy, and as he famously quipped once, it’s good to be the king.