TIL 10 Nov

12
Photo: Manuel Harlan.
YOUNG FRANKENSTEIN Garrick
In 2001, Mel Brooks indefatigably put
the comedy back into Musical Comedy
with his Tony Award winning adaptation
of his 1969 masterpiece The Producers.
In more recent times, laughter, alas,
has no longer been a prime ingredient of
the genre. There are exceptions, of
course. The Book of Mormon (not a
favourite of mine) being one of them.
Happily, at age 91 guffaws are once
again the first item on his agenda with a
musical adaptation of his 1974 hit,
Young Frankenstein.
It’s his second crack at it – I saw it on
Broadway ten years ago, and what a train
wreck that was! The good news is that
this revisited paired-down, altogether
streamlined new version has, like
Frankenstein’s monster, been brought
back to life with side-splitting results.
Somewhat sceptical of its success,
Brooks, in an interview, anticipated that
it would inevitably be be unfavourably
compared to The Producers – and he’s
right; it isn’t in that show’s league. But
hey, who cares? What you’re getting is a
pot-pourri of pastiche and parody; two
and a half hours of verbal and visual
shtick as Brooks ransacks every
vaudeville trick of his trade.
Anything goes. One-liners that were
old the day they were born mingle
indiscriminately with fresher variations
on the same corny gags. Puns, double
entendres and familiar routines (such as
‘walk this way’) tickle the funny bone
afresh as the cherishable Mel and his
co-writer, the late, indispensable
Thomas Meehan, dilligently transplant
the film to the stage.
Inspired, of course, by director James
Whale’s iconic 1931 horror classic
Frankenstein, this affectionate parody
focuses on Victor Frankenstein’s grandson
Frederick, a professor of neurology living
in New York, who is summoned to
Transylvania to dispose of his
grandfather’s formidable Gothic estate.
Taking leave of his frigid fiancee
Elizabeth, Frederick, who now calls
himself Fronkensteen because of the bad
publicity generated by his grandfather,
extends his Transylvanian visit after falling
for his sexy assistant Inga. Her
accomplishments include yodelling and
gathering hay with a pitch fork (‘I’m a very
hard forker,’ she says). Her in-your-face
physical attributes prove irresistible and
are the butt (pun intended) of a plethora of
smutty innuendoes that would not have
been out of place in the Carry On films of
the sixties and seventies.
Apart from Inga, Frederick is also
attracted to the prospect of furthering his
grandfather’s life-resuscitating
experiments in general and, in particular,
transplanting a brain into a corpse. As in
the film, he is aided and abetted by the
castle’s resident hunchback, Igor, and by
his grandather’s formidible housekeeper
Frau Blucher, the very mention of whose
name cues alarmed whinnying in a pair
of the castle’s resident horses.
It’s all very silly – and endlessly
infectious. And it is cast to perfection.
Hadley Fraser, in the role created by
Gene Wilder, is less neurotic than his
predecessor and even manages to
maintain a refreshing modicum of sanity
in the over-the-top circumstances.
No such restraint, however, about
Ross Noble’s Igor, a whirling dervish
whose sheer physicality and comictiming
are a joy. Shuler Hensley, the
only member of the ill-fated 2007
Broadway cast, repeats his role as the
Monster, ensuring that the famous
Puttin’ On the Ritz number (by Irving
Berlin) in the second half is as effective
on stage as it was on screen. And, as the
blind Hermit, Patrick Clancy (doubling
up as the local policeman) pilfers some
of the best laughs of the evening.
On the distaff side, and far superior to
their Broadway counterparts, are Dianne
Pilkington who, as Frederick’s
untouchable fiancee, makes the most of
the show’s least rewarding role and
Lesley Joseph (excellent too) as the
housekeeper, her revelation that Victor
Frankenstein ‘vas my boyfriend’ being
one of the highlights of the night.
Best of all, though, is Summer
Strallen as Inga. Very similar to the
character of Ulla in The Producers, she’s
a seductive riot, especially in the saucy
Roll in the Hay number, just one of the
many tuneful pastlches which provide
the bulk of Brooks’ catchy score, with its
deliberate references to such musicals
as South Pacific and Cabaret. His lyrics,
by the way, are pretty resourceful too.
Also paying tribute to musicals of the
past is director/choreographer Susan
Stroman, whose hommage to Fred Astaire
in the Bojangles of Harlem number from
the 1936 movie Swing Time is just one
more indication of how widely the creative
team of Young Frankenstein have cast
their net as part of an irresistible time
warp. Her fast-paced, super-slick staging
is, in all is aspects, the show’s standout
achievement.
Rounding it off visually is Beowulf
Boritt’s evocative sets and William Ivey
Long’s costumes.
Nostalgia has rarely had it so good.
CLIVE HIRSCHHORN
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