Every October the old monsters come out to play, and every October there is an argument to be made that the best Frankenstein picture of them all is the one that was played for laughs. Mel Brooks‘ Young Frankenstein opened in December 1974, and more than half a century later it remains that rarest of things, a parody made with so much love for its source that it ends up standing right beside it.
The idea belonged to Gene Wilder, who sketched it out on a legal pad and brought it to Brooks while the two were finishing Blazing Saddles. They wrote the script together, and Wilder had one condition. Brooks, never shy about a cameo, was not to appear on screen. He agreed, and the film is better for the discipline. Nobody winks at the camera here. Everyone plays it straight, which is exactly why it is so funny.
Wilder stars as Dr. Frederick Frankenstein, a respected American surgeon who has spent his career running from his family name. He insists on pronouncing it Fronkensteen and dismisses his grandfather’s work as nonsense. Then he inherits the family castle in Transylvania, finds the old laboratory notes and, well, you know how these things go.
Waiting for him at the castle is a supporting cast that may be the finest ever assembled for a comedy. Marty Feldman is Igor, pronounced Eye-gor, thank you very much, a hunchbacked assistant whose hump migrates from one shoulder to the other over the course of the film. Feldman started moving it on his own as a private joke, and Brooks and Wilder liked it too much to stop him. Teri Garr is Inga, the cheerful lab assistant. Cloris Leachman plays Frau Blücher, the severe housekeeper whose very name sends the horses into a panic, a running gag that still gets a laugh on the tenth viewing. Madeline Kahn arrives late as Frederick’s fussy, untouchable fiancée, Elizabeth, and walks off with nearly every scene she is in.
And then there is Peter Boyle as the Monster. It would have been easy to play him as a lumbering prop, but Boyle gives the creature real feeling, a big, confused, sweet-natured child in a body stitched together from spare parts. When Frederick presents his creation to a theater full of Transylvania’s finest, and the two of them break into a top hat and tails rendition of “Puttin’ on the Ritz,” it is one of the great comic set pieces in American film. Boyle’s contribution to the chorus has to be heard to be believed.
Watch for Gene Hackman, too, unbilled and nearly unrecognizable as a lonely blind hermit who is thrilled to finally have a dinner guest. The scene runs only a few minutes and contains more disasters involving hot soup, wine and cigars than seems physically possible.
What lifts Young Frankenstein above every other spoof of its era is how seriously it takes the craft. Brooks shot the film in black and white, almost unheard of for a studio comedy in 1974, and cinematographer Gerald Hirschfeld lit it like a Universal picture from 1931. The film even uses old-fashioned iris shots and wipes between scenes. Best of all, much of the laboratory equipment on screen is the real thing. Brooks tracked down Kenneth Strickfaden, the man who built the sparking, buzzing machines for Boris Karloff‘s original Frankenstein, and found he had kept much of it in storage for more than 40 years. The same machines that brought Karloff to life bring Boyle to life here. John Morris‘ score, with its mournful violin theme, could have come straight out of a 1930s horror picture.
That affection runs through every frame. Brooks and Wilder clearly grew up loving the Universal monsters, and the jokes are built on knowing them inside and out. The village inspector with the wooden arm, the brain in the jar, the little girl by the well, the angry mob with torches, every one of them is a nod to the originals, and the film trusts its audience to catch them.
The picture was a hit with critics and audiences alike. Wilder and Brooks were nominated for an Academy Award for their screenplay, and the film earned a second nomination for Best Sound. The American Film Institute ranks it among the funniest American movies ever made, and in 2003 it was added to the Library of Congress’ National Film Registry. Brooks has said he considers it his finest film as a director, if not his funniest, and that is a fair way to put it. It later became a Broadway musical, but nothing has topped the original.
If you are planning a scary movie night this month, put Young Frankenstein on the list, ideally after watching the 1931 Frankenstein so the jokes land even harder. Turn off the lights, make some popcorn and try not to whinny when someone says Frau Blücher.
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