Somewhere in Transylvania

Okay, last night was Young Frankenstein at the PAC. Kind of one of those good news/bad news things. Though the bad news wasn’t all that bad.

On the good side, I LOVE Mel Brooks. For good or bad, a good portion of my sense of humor was influenced by far too many viewings of Blazing Saddles, at far too young an age. And the songs in Young Frankenstein are pure Brooks. Dirty word play. Lurve it. And they made sure all of the big jokes from the movie were there, but supplemented by plenty of new material. That formula was just about perfect. And it was directed by Susan Stroman, so fab dance sequences. I do loves me some tap. (And, can I just say, where does Stroman find the women dancers? Legs up to here, thin, but with big knockers. They are genetic freaks. Gorgeous, gorgeous genetic freaks. But still. I say we chase them with pitchforks.) The performers were all top notch.

But in spite of being top notch, the fellow playing Frederick Frankenstein, and the gal playing Elizabeth suffered in comparison. How could they not? They are standing in the shadow of Gene Wilder and Madeleine Kahn in their prime. That’s some shadow. I wanted his hair to be a little weirder. Her voice to be a little more flexible. Well, frankly, I just wanted them to be Wilder and Kahn. And I felt progressively worse for Frederick as he went into Puttin’ on the Ritz. He’s just tap dancin’ his little heart out. And the big guy stumping around in platform boots gets all the applause. What can you do?

It was still fun, just for the fact that it’s such an old fashioned show. Lots of singing, lots of dancing, and plenty of jokes. Gotta give it to Brooks. He can make ‘em laugh.