Young Frankenstein: It’s Alive!
My Seattle-based friend Starla Smith went to the press opening last night of Mel Brooks’s new musical, “Young Frankenstein,” in that Washington city. The show is based on Brooks’s comic movie spoof (original poster art is shown here) of the famous tale about the monster. It will run at the Paramount Theatre in Seattle through September 1, and begins performances in New York at the Hilton Theatre on October 11.
Here’s a capsule of what Smith thought. Her more extensive review comes after the summary.
Summary: Mel Brooks is up to his old antics as he and the creative team of the Tony-winning production “The Producers” take on another movie-to-musical challenge. “Young Frankenstein” pays tribute to Shelley’s 1818 tome, delivering Brooks‘s trademark over-the-top zaniness as he spoofs not only his own 1974 film but Broadway in general with old-fashioned musical theater chutzpah. At 90 minutes, Act One needs trimming and its finale is a bit disappointing. Act Two fares better, in part thanks to director/choreographer Susan Stroman’s sparkling rendition of Irving Berlin’s ‘Puttin’ on the Ritz.’ Brooks’s music and lyrics may not become Broadway classics, but his specialty songs overflow with silliness and subtext. And the book, a collaboration between Brooks and Thomas Meehan, salutes body parts with sexual innuendos galore. Unfortunately, “Young F” also has a few so-so routines that either fall flat or go on too long. Otherwise, the musical features an impressive roster of Broadway and television talents, lively dances with leggy chorus girls and boys, plus fabulous sets and dazzling special effects. It’s an entertaining romp that’s bound to tickle your funny bone.
Extended Review: Although not perfect, Mel Brooks’s new Broadway-bound musical, “Young Frankenstein,” offers an evening packed with the comic maestro’s slapstick genius, double entendres , and audacious irreverence. The theatrical version, set in 1934 New York City and Transylvania Heights , includes most of the film highlights, but the ending has been re-imagined. And if many of the lines sound familiar, you first heard them in the movie.
Unfair or not, you can’t help but compare the stage performers to their film predecessors. Roger Bart and Sutton Foster fall a little short as Dr. Frederick “Fronk-en-steen” and his ditzy lab assistant Inga. Bart faces the daunting challenge of living up to Gene Wilder’s celluloid insanity. Despite their gallant efforts, Bart still lacks the comedic dementia of Wilder, and Foster lacks the bimbo-esque sauciness of Terri Garr. Both Bart and Foster are in great voice; they’re just not as funny as they should be, especially in the first act — although she does a mean yodel during the hayride scene.
Megan Mullally steps into Madeline Kahn’s cinematic slippers as the doctor’s stuck-up socialite fiancée Elizabeth , while Shuler Hensley steps into Peter Boyle’s clunky platform boots as the seven-foot monster turned song-and-dance man. Andrea Martin takes over the castle chores from Cloris Leachman as the gloomy housekeeper Frau Blucher, and Christopher Fitzgerald tackles Marty Feldman’s sidekick triumph as the happy hunchback Igor—“Eye-gore†to his inner circle.
With a flashier persona than Kahn, Mullally flaunts her comedic chops in two near show-stopping numbers, the uppity “Please Don’t Touch Me” and the sexual tell-all, “Deep Love” — sung after her Sweet Mystery of Life climax with “ol zipperneck” — as she rhapsodizes over the monster’s enormous schwanzstucker. And in a move that should make Leachman proud, the hilariously dour Martin straddles a chair to pay homage to Dietrich and Sally Bowles in “He Vas My Boyfriend.”
Though the talented Fitzgerald and his shifting hump have many funny moments, he’s not quite as funny as the bug-eyed Feldman. Hensley gets big laughs when the hulking monster sings and when he breaks down into tears, ‘cause he just wants to be loved.
“But the real show-stopper is Berlin ’s finger-snapping “Puttin’ on the Ritz,” the best production number of the musical. With now-dapper monster and Herr Doctor leading a tie-and-tails kick-line that stretches across the entire stage Chorus Line-style, the svelte dancers clone creature wannabes in a razzle-dazzle tap extravaganza.
In other scene highlights, Fred Applegate does double duty as the bumbling blind hermit (he even adds a Jolson touch) and the one-eyed, two-limbed constable, Inspector Kemp. Before he inherits Grandpa Victor’s Transylvania castle, Bart, as Dr. “Fronk-en-steen,” struts his scientific stuff at the Johns Miriam and Anthony Hopkins School of Medicine in a Rodgers and Hammerstein-inspired spoof, “There is Nothing Like a Brain.” Bart perfectly executes Brooks’s tongue-twisting, lickety-split lyrics, reminiscent of Danny Kaye’s “Tchaikovsky” turn in “Lady in the Dark.” And yes, the horses, looking like giant stuffed steeds from FAO Schwarz, whinney in terror every time Frau Blucher’s name is spoken.
Designer William Ivey Long creates folksy Tyrolean togs for the townsfolk as well as sexy-chic couture gowns for Mullally and a leather bustier for Martin. Robin Wagner’s sets, Peter Kaczorwski’s lighting, and Marc Brickman’s special effects are marvelous. Of course, the revolving library bookcase reveals a secret passage, while a precarious-looking staircase of faux stone leads to a secret laboratory—complete with cobwebs and towering machines of horrorific grandeur. Under the beams of a full moon, thunder cracks and lightening flashes ominously while these scientific mechanisms spark, crackle and pop during the corpse-to-monster transformation.
Critics may knit-pick, but audiences will love this madcap musical. On press night, Seattle folks gave the cast a huge standing ovation. When Brooks, Meehan and Stroman joined the actors onstage, Brooks expressed his appreciation by inviting the cheering audience to travel with the production.
Finally, there’s a line that perfectly captures Brooks’s campy irreverence. With pre-Nazi pomp, Inspector Kemp asks, “Do you know what this town needs?” To which the village idiot eagerly replies, “A gay bar?â€
