Young Frankenstein
The reason why Gene Wilder’s performance as Dr. Frederick Frankenstein—sorry, FRONKensteen—in Mel Brooks’ Young Frankenstein (1974), ranks as one of the greatest comedic performances of all time is that if you had plucked him out of the film and dropped him into a straight horror film, it still would have worked. That was the true genius of Brooks’ greatest spoofs: they weren’t just comedies, but sincere love letters to the genres they parodied. If you took the jokes out of The Producers (1968), you’d still have a fascinating backstage drama. Blazing Saddles (1974) would still be a moving Western about overcoming racism; High Anxiety (1977) a gripping thriller. Young Frankenstein looks and feels like a classic Hollywood horror movie—they even reused the lab machinery and props from the Boris Karloff Frankenstein films. The difference, of course, is that it’s funny. While Peter Boyle’s Monster was the heart of the film, Wilder’s was the soul. His emotions were large and bombastic, over-the-top but somehow not unbelievable. His gnarled indignation at mention of his grandfather could curdle milk. His screams and agonies over his failure to give his Creature life may be a punchline, but the more times I watch it, the more and more my heart breaks for him. He also had the gift of understatement, a skill woefully missing in most modern comedy. Go watch the scene where he locks himself in the room with the Creature after giving his assistants orders not to open it no matter what he says, no matter how he begs. When the Creature approaches him and Wilder runs back to the door, he doesn’t scream, he doesn’t even raise his voice. He calmly asks them to let him out, little rivulets of exasperation and fear trickling out of him. It’s what sells the moment. It’s what helps sell the film. -Nathanel Hood
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