When someone like Mel Brooks gets his hands on a novel by Mary Shelley, and then Gene Wilder writes the screen play, and they hire Peter Boyle, Madeline Kahn, Marty Feldman, Gene Hackman, Cloris Leachman, Teri Garr...you can't help but end up with something so delectable as Young Frankenstein.
And since today is Peter Boyle's birthday, I'd like to honor this classic "scary" film.
I don't remember when I first saw Young Frankenstein. I have a vague memory of seeing it in a theater when it was first released--the only reason I'm doubting the theater viewing is that I was rarely allowed to see movies in an actual theater, Hollywood being the source of all evil. But I must have seen it in one because I was able to perfect my Peter-Boyle-doing-Puttin'-On-the-Ritz imitation while still in middle school.
Many, many years later, when our kids were eager to be exposed to their parents' favorite films--I may be imagining there ever was a time when they were eager for that exposure--we bought Young Frankenstein on video. We took it on motorhome trips and watched it on dark, scary, stormy nights, with our metal house on wheels surrounded by thunder and lightening.
When Daughter #1 left for college, we sent her off packed with pencils and pens, blankets and pillows, and her own DVD copy of Young Frankenstein.
When we have guests for dinner, we recite our favorite lines randomly, slapping the table and snorting as we amuse ourselves--What hump?--Put the candle back--Ovaltine--You take the blond and I'll take the one in the turban.
Me: Damn your eyes.
Husband in a fake British accent: Too late.
Together: Baah, ha, ha
We amuse ourselves so completely, in fact, we don't often see that our guests are only politely smiling, and underneath the table they are gripping the hands of their spouses, which is the international signal--"Please, dear, get us out of here now."
My favorite line might belong to Cloris Leachman--"Yes, he was my boyfriend." I'm not sure why, in a film full of little treasures, I would like that line best. Maybe it's because the idea of Dr. Frankenstein being someone's boyfriend, especially someone like Cloris Leachman, is such a marvelous and unexpected concept to imagine. It's like dating Henry Kissinger or meeting Abraham Lincoln for drinks.
The weather in middle Ohio is gloomy and rainy today, so when Daughter #2 wakes up, I may suggest we pop in Young Frankenstein and finish out today's tribute with a showing.
Taffeta darling. Taffeta dear. baah, ha ha ha
And since today is Peter Boyle's birthday, I'd like to honor this classic "scary" film.
I don't remember when I first saw Young Frankenstein. I have a vague memory of seeing it in a theater when it was first released--the only reason I'm doubting the theater viewing is that I was rarely allowed to see movies in an actual theater, Hollywood being the source of all evil. But I must have seen it in one because I was able to perfect my Peter-Boyle-doing-Puttin'-On-the-Ritz imitation while still in middle school.
Many, many years later, when our kids were eager to be exposed to their parents' favorite films--I may be imagining there ever was a time when they were eager for that exposure--we bought Young Frankenstein on video. We took it on motorhome trips and watched it on dark, scary, stormy nights, with our metal house on wheels surrounded by thunder and lightening.
When Daughter #1 left for college, we sent her off packed with pencils and pens, blankets and pillows, and her own DVD copy of Young Frankenstein.
When we have guests for dinner, we recite our favorite lines randomly, slapping the table and snorting as we amuse ourselves--What hump?--Put the candle back--Ovaltine--You take the blond and I'll take the one in the turban.
Me: Damn your eyes.
Husband in a fake British accent: Too late.
Together: Baah, ha, ha
We amuse ourselves so completely, in fact, we don't often see that our guests are only politely smiling, and underneath the table they are gripping the hands of their spouses, which is the international signal--"Please, dear, get us out of here now."
My favorite line might belong to Cloris Leachman--"Yes, he was my boyfriend." I'm not sure why, in a film full of little treasures, I would like that line best. Maybe it's because the idea of Dr. Frankenstein being someone's boyfriend, especially someone like Cloris Leachman, is such a marvelous and unexpected concept to imagine. It's like dating Henry Kissinger or meeting Abraham Lincoln for drinks.
The weather in middle Ohio is gloomy and rainy today, so when Daughter #2 wakes up, I may suggest we pop in Young Frankenstein and finish out today's tribute with a showing.
Taffeta darling. Taffeta dear. baah, ha ha ha
Comments
"There wolf; there castle."
Oh deep, chocolatey joy! One of the funniest films of all time. I shall be watching it tonight.
Hey, Robyn. No chance of a Quicktime movie of you doing "Puttin' On The Ritz", is there? Thought not …
Or how about "Oh, Sweet Mystery Of Life" on the horn, a al Igor?
Frau Blücher used to be quite a babe, you know. Check out the old noir "Kiss Me Deadly" (another favourite movie), for Cloris in her glorious prime.
"What enormous knockers!"
"Thank you, Herr Doktor."
"Not the hair!"
etc … … …
I'm afraid I can't do Puttin on the Ritz without my sister here to do the lead in line--Different types who wear a day coat, pants with stripes and cutaway coat."
I know where fashion fits...
Oh, please. You know I asked if I could bring the DVD, and you said, "No, that would leave us with the VHS copy!" So when I meet people at OSU who haven't seen this movie, I have no means to enlighten them.
"Elevate me."
"Now? Right here?"
"The stairway can be... treacherous."
And the film is black and white, and the fake East European whatever accents, you wouldn't expect the word Boyfriend to be used.
I loved that line.