Mike ran the script over to Laddie’s house that night and Laddie later told me that he read it twice from eleven p.m. until one in the morning. He just couldn’t put it down. He really loved it.
We all hit it off at our first meeting because the first thing Laddie said was, “You’re absolutely right. It should be made in black and white.”
I knew right then and there that I had finally met a studio chief that I could really trust.
He had a lot of faith in me. He said, “Use Stage Five at Fox; it’s enormous, it’s gorgeous, and it’s yours. And don’t worry about the money. Whatever you need to make it, you’ve got it.”
What a guy! He authorized a budget of 2.4 million dollars.
I didn’t know it then, but I had a new long-term creative home at Fox. During the filming of Young Frankenstein, Blazing Saddles became an enormous hit, and I was ardently wooed by several big studios, but my heart was now pledged to Laddie and Twentieth Century Fox because he had taken a chance on me. He had picked up Young Frankenstein without even knowing that Blazing Saddles would be a massive hit. So I later signed a three-picture deal with him at Fox. It’s many years later, and at this writing, he’s still one of my dearest friends.
But back to Young Frankenstein…
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Once again, I got Kenny Mars, who played the crazy German playwright Franz Liebkind in The Producers, to be the crazy German policeman Inspector Kemp in Young Frankenstein. Any time I needed a crazy German, I knew I could count on Kenny Mars to be there. He came up with a wonderful suggestion: He would put his character’s monocle over his black eye patch, thereby making it completely useless.
For Castle Frankenstein’s loony housekeeper, Frau Blücher, we got the truly gifted Cloris Leachman, who had won a Best Supporting Actress Oscar for her brilliant performance in Peter Bogdanovitch’s The Last Picture Show (1971). She could do anything, drama or comedy. She turned in one of the funniest performances of anybody in the film. I told her as a film model for her performance we decided she would be a Teutonic Judith Anderson replete with a mole on her cheek à la the cold and domineering Mrs. Danvers in Hitchcock’s Rebecca (1940). We added the touch that every time her name is mentioned the horses would whinny and rear up in fear in the background. There was a General Blücher who was the Prussian victor at the Battle of Waterloo, and I just liked the sound of that name. The horses whinny because Frau Blücher is ominous. Even they know how crazy she is. Someone told me, I think incorrectly, that the German word Blücher means “glue” and that when the horses heard the name Blücher they were terrified that they’d end up in a glue factory.
For Dr. Frankenstein’s attractive lab assistant, Inga, we got the beautiful and talented Teri Garr. She came up with a wonderfully unique version of a German accent. I knew Teri would be sensational when she was reading the line where Frau Blücher is removing the big steel restraints that keep the monster on the laboratory table.
Teri was supposed to come down the steps and say, “No, no, you mustn’t.”
In Teri’s audition, with great fear in her voice she said, “No, no, you mozzn’t!”
Giving it just the right Transylvanian touch.
One of my favorite scenes was Teri’s unassuming, blushing take when Gene looks at the front door of the castle and sees these incredible iron rings.
When Marty bangs them against the giant door, Gene says: “My god, what knockers!”
And Teri replies, “Vy thank you, Doctor.”
Teri’s performance was spot-on.
To complete the trio of hilarious women in Young Frankenstein, we again employed the services of the great Madeline Kahn. Gene and I wrote the role of the snooty Park Avenue socialite Elizabeth with Madeline in mind. We liked the idea that “Dr. Fronkensteen” had a fiancée that was more interested in diamond earrings than reanimated dead tissue.
It was my idea that when Elizabeth is seduced by the monster instead of screaming in terror she bursts into song, singing, “Ah, sweet mystery of life, at last I’ve found you!”
Obviously, she likes the guy. After Elizabeth falls in love with the monster, we modeled her look after Elsa Lanchester’s character in The Bride of Frankenstein, right down to the bizarre hairdo with white streaks up the sides.
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And talk about luck—Gene Wilder used to play tennis every Saturday with another Gene, called Gene Hackman. One Saturday Hackman asked Wilder what he was working on. Wilder explained the premise of Young Frankenstein.
Hackman said, “Is there anything in it for me? I’m dying to do some comedy.”
Wilder said, “As a matter of fact, there is.”
And he explained the role of the blind man.
He said, “It’s just a cameo, but if you really wanted to do it, I’m sure Mel would—”
Hackman cut him off. “It’s perfect! Count me in.”
When Gene Wilder told me about his conversation, I was over the moon. I knew what a consummate actor Hackman was, as he had just won an Oscar for his memorable performance as “Popeye” Doyle in The French Connection (1971). We could never have paid Gene Hackman his current salary in those days. He was gracious, did the movie anyway as a favor, and took minor billing.
He was so wonderful as the lonely blind hermit. He almost destroys the monster with his kindness. In the original film the creature is drawn by violin music in the woods and encounters a kind blind hermit, who shows him hospitality and lets him spend the night. In our version the blind man’s attempts at hospitality result in hot soup in the monster’s crotch and the monster’s thumb lit on fire. Peter’s creature runs out and Gene Hackman gets one of the biggest laughs in the movie with his superbly delivered, “Where are you going? I was gonna make espresso!”
When people saw Young Frankenstein in the theater, nobody knew the blind man was Gene Hackman until they saw his name at the end of the credits. The monk’s costume and the beard made him unrecognizable. His line readings were hysterical, but he never pushed it. He got it just right. I will always be eternally grateful to Gene Hackman for that gift of a performance.
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Gene Wilder had only one favor to ask of me before we began filming the movie. With a big smile on his face he said, “I’ll do it as long as you’re not in it. I don’t want you to act in it.”
I said, “Why?”
He said, “Because I don’t want a minute of your concentration to be split between your acting and your directing.”
“Done,” I said. We shook on it.
I had three weeks of rehearsals before we began shooting. I like rehearsals, because it gives the actors an opportunity to get comfortable with one another.
I told the cast, “We’re making a riotous comedy here but you don’t know it. At times it’s gotta be touching and at other times really scary. And it’s got to be very real—no heightened acting. When it’s funny, your character doesn’t know it’s funny. You’re just doing your job. The audience knows when it’s funny. But you don’t. So don’t you ever play funny.”