‘Mel Brooks: The 99 Year Old Man!’ Review: A Living Monument to American Humor (HBO)

For a generation that grew up in the 1970s, Mel Brooks was something close to a god of comedy. I came to him later, in the ’80s, through films like History of the World, Part I and Spaceballs. By then, Brooks was already an established figure and, in some ways, belonged to an earlier generation than the one that was just beginning to emerge. Still, he could make rocks laugh. His humor seemed simple and direct on the surface, but underneath it hid enormous sophistication and intelligence. That knack for turning “dumb” comedy into a way of tackling prickly subjects was always one of the defining traits of his style—the same one that made him famous, and that also led him through some rougher periods.

At 99, Mel Brooks is a survivor of almost everything and everyone. He is one of the very few people alive who can remember the 1930s, one of the dwindling number of World War II veterans still here to tell the tale, and someone who lived through every stage of American comedy from the 1940s to today. His career began in the Jewish comedy clubs of the Catskills, moved through the early days of live television in the 1950s—he was a writer on the hugely popular Your Show of Shows with Sid Caesar—and then shifted to stand-up, where he found great success alongside Carl Reiner with their legendary routine The 2000 Year Old Man, about a man who has lived through centuries and remembers everything, not unlike what eventually happened to Brooks himself. Finally, after the success of The Producers, he reinvented himself yet again as the director of massive hits like Blazing Saddles and Young Frankenstein, two now-classic comedies that were both released in 1974.

Even that brief overview barely captures the worldwide influence and popularity Brooks achieved during those years. He acted in his own films, appeared on magazine covers, constantly made people laugh on television and in live appearances, and was universally beloved. Add to that his work as a film producer—he played a crucial role in helping consolidate the careers of David Lynch and David Cronenberg by producing The Elephant Man and The Fly—and, more recently, his triumphant return to The Producers, this time as a Broadway musical. Married for over 40 years to actress Anne Bancroft, who died in 2005, Brooks stands as an undeniable reference point for comedy for generations that followed him and continue to admire and respect him.

As Brooks—who turns 100 in June—revisits moments from his life and career in interviews conducted by Judd Apatow himself, many of his heirs appear to celebrate him and recall when they first discovered his work. Ben Stiller, Jerry Seinfeld, Dave Chappelle, Adam Sandler, Patton Oswalt, Matthew Broderick, Nick Kroll, Nathan Lane, the Zucker brothers (of Airplane! fame), and two recently deceased figures, David Lynch and Rob Reiner, are among those who speak in the present tense about Brooks. To them are added a wealth of archival interviews and past statements, especially from his lifelong friend Carl Reiner—Rob’s father—and from Bancroft herself.

The documentary unfolds across two episodes of roughly 100 minutes each—Apatow has already made two similar “series” about comedians in this format—and while it largely follows a classic chronological structure, beginning with Brooks’s childhood and moving through his life and career, it finds room for emotional moments, revealing anecdotes, and intelligent discussions about his brand of humor. Above all, it makes clear just how much humor and positive energy this man poured into more than 70 years of work. A born clown who cannot resist making a face or cracking a joke in front of the camera, Brooks always finds a way to get a laugh thanks to his quick mind, originality, and, above all, his immense charisma.

His may not be the most refined humor in the world, and there was once a clear divide between those who preferred Brooks and those who gravitated toward the more sophisticated comedy of Woody Allen—ironically, both worked together as writers on Your Show of Shows. At this point, though, that kind of distinction feels largely irrelevant. Brooks’s humor can be bombastic and at times downright crude—almost everyone agrees that many of his films could not be made today, especially Blazing Saddles—but his arrows are always aimed in the right direction. He mocks pompous and cruel leaders (his obsession with ridiculing Hitler caused him more than a few problems), exploiters, and the clichés of the film industry itself. Much of what one sees today in shows like The Studio, Mel Brooks did first.

Apatow and co-director Michael Bonfiglio are not interested in digging for dark secrets, perhaps because there are none to be found beyond some labor disputes and personal matters that Brooks readily acknowledges. The documentary is unapologetically celebratory, conceived as a tribute from beginning to end. Its final stretch takes on a more somber tone, as Brooks finds himself at a stage in life where, despite appearing sharp, healthy, and remarkably talkative, he has outlived most of his peers, friends, and loved ones. Reiner is gone. Bancroft is gone. There is no one left from his generation to gather with. Yet he refuses to surrender to melancholy. He looks back on the past with affection. And, in his own way, he still keeps an eye on the future.