That night at the AFI gala I was absolutely thrilled to be saluted by some of the biggest filmmakers in Hollywood, but I wasn’t expecting them to bitterly complain about what I had done to their beloved film genres. Clint Eastwood was the first to take me to task. He said, “The Western is one of the great genres of American film. Since the early days, Westerns have given us indelible images—the grandeur of endless landscapes, the intimacy of coffee at the campfire, men that do the right thing. I guess you could say the Western embodies the spirit of America…and this is what Mel Brooks did to it.”
They cut directly to my famous campfire scene from Blazing Saddles where after eating mounds of beans and drinking gallons of black coffee, the cowhands let loose with loud explosions of wind across the prairie. I’m happy to report that the sounds of farting were outdone by the roars of laughter.
Next up was George Lucas. He said, “Early on in my career I set off on a bold adventure to see if I could take mythological motifs and turn them into a contemporary movie, and I called this adventure Star Wars…and this is what Mel Brooks did to it.”
Once again, they cut directly to a hilarious scene in my movie Spaceballs, where Rick Moranis, encased in his huge dark helmet, says to Bill Pullman as Lone Starr during a clash of light sabers, “I see your Schwartz is as big as mine.”
That double entendre was a little risqué with my grandchildren there, but I’m not going to take the rap for that—it was AFI’s call and considering the big laugh it got it was worth it.
Next on the screen was the familiar face of the great film director Steven Spielberg. He said, “Movies bring history to life. They allow us to see, to experience great moments of the past as if we were there living it. From the dawn of man to the eternal stories of the Bible, to the epic tales of the Roman Empire—film’s ability to help us understand where we came from is a proud and important tradition…and this is what Mel Brooks did to it.”
There on the screen was my famous scene from History of the World, Part I with me playing Moses coming down from the mountain carrying three large stone tablets. In a commanding tone I utter these sacred words, “The Lord, the Lord Jehovah, has given you these Fifteen—” Crash! I drop one of the stone tablets and it smashes to pieces on the rocks below. So after a slight, embarrassing pause I continue with, “Ten! Ten Commandments!”
Which of course got one of the biggest laughs of the night. And then one after another a slew of top-drawer personalities came onstage and reduced me to tears of laughter with a barrage of comic barbs and insights that were just a little too true. There was Billy Crystal, Whoopi Goldberg, Robert De Niro, Sarah Silverman, Amy Poehler, Cloris Leachman, David Lynch, Jimmy Kimmel, Conan O’Brien, Nathan Lane, Matthew Broderick, Larry David, Jerry Seinfeld, and Carl Reiner. You couldn’t hope to be insulted by more delightfully talented people!
They were all great, but one was particularly funny, stinging, and equally extravagant with praise and insults. That was Larry David. I had done a season of his very funny show Curb Your Enthusiasm and made a lot of jokes at his expense. He got even that night at the AFI.
Here is what he said:
“Lavishing praise on people does not come easy to me. In fact, I find it quite distasteful. Let’s just say it’s not my cup of tea. Usually I have to wait for somebody to die to do it, and even then, I have to give it a couple of years. But not so tonight. When I first heard the 2000 Year Old Man, I was laughing so hard my father came into the room and turned off the record player. ‘What the hell’s going on in here, Larry?’ See, my parents didn’t mind me chuckling at a comedy album, or a TV show. A little chuckle was fine. But this was something else entirely. This was disturbing. So out of the ordinary. I never knew a person could be that funny. And from the very first time I heard that album, from that moment on, I said to myself, I can never ever be a comedian. What is the point? So Mel Brooks didn’t get me into comedy. He kept me away from it. I wasted years doing nothing because of him. No job, living at home, lying on the couch watching Shindig. My parents were beside themselves. They cried themselves to sleep every night. He killed them. He killed my parents that little Jew bastard. Working with Mel on my show was one of the great thrills of my life. And that season was inspired by what was possibly the greatest comedic premise that anyone has ever dreamed up. The Producers.”
When the camera cut to my reaction everybody was puzzled—I wasn’t there! I had slipped under the table, unable to speak and laughing my brains out.
* * *
—
Earlier the AFI had asked me to choose from a list of previous recipients who I wanted to actually present the award to me at the end of the night. The minute I saw Marty Scorsese’s name on the list I said, “See if you can get him.”
When Bob Gazzale called me back to say that Scorsese was honored to be chosen and more than happy to do it, I was absolutely thrilled.
Here is what Martin Scorsese said that night when he handed me the award:
“You know, there is a lot we take for granted but we shouldn’t. And one of them is the treasured tradition of classic American film comedy. That’s what we’re celebrating here and honoring tonight. Because in Mel’s films, all bets are off. The boundaries between what’s funny and what isn’t kind of fade away or tumble like that sheet falling in It Happened One Night. Mel breaks these boundaries with laughter. These boundaries actually disintegrate before your eyes at the end of Blazing Saddles. Telling a joke is one thing, making it part of a cohesive whole is something else again. And that’s where the filmmaking comes in, his mastery of filmmaking. Mel has an anarchic spirit but a loving heart, and his films come from a profound fondness for classic cinema and a deep understanding of it. His uniquely manic sensibility is hardwired to something that is so easy to miss because we are laughing so hard, and that is his extremely disciplined mastery of the vocabulary of film. Mel has made his own comedy his own way and reminded us yet again what it’s all too easy to forget: You could be a great filmmaker, just for laughs.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the recipient of the AFI 41st Life Achievement Award, Mel Brooks.”
Needless to say, I was humbled and flattered by Scorsese’s beautiful and eloquent tribute. But now it was time for me to say good night and give my acceptance speech.
Here is how I began: From inside my tuxedo pocket, I pulled out a stack of notecards. I said, “So here are my notes.”
I picked up the first one and read:
“Thank AFI, friends, family, and colleagues for coming—try to be sincere.”
I set that card aside to a nice bit of laughter and picked up the next card:
“This says I grew up in a tenement at 365 South Third Street and everyone there was either working or destined to end up working in the Garment Center. But I took a road less traveled: movies. And they saved me. Movies saved my life. They rescued my soul. No matter what was bad or wrong it could be wiped out on Saturday morning.”