The Producers

1967, Sidney Glazier

In general, I don't care one bit for Mel Brooks. I find his brand of humor decidedly unfunny—and I know I'm a minority, as it seems the world considers him a god of comedy. But he did make one film I can tolerate: The Producers. One saving grace is the late great Zero Mostel, although he's nearly drowned out by Gene Wilder's incessant shrieking. The other is the hysterically over-the-top play-within-a-play, Springtime for Hitler: the most ill-conceived, tasteless musical ever made.

     

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