HISTORY OF THE WORLD PART 1, 1981
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HISTORY OF THE WORLD PART 1, 1981
Movie Reviews
Directed by Mel Brooks
Starring: Mel Brooks, Madeline Kahn, Gregory Hines
Review by Mark Engberg
Mel Brooks pokes fun at the entire civilization of mankind, mocking the Stone Age, the Roman Empire, the Spanish Inquisition, and the French Revolution.
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REVIEW:
The black screen begins to emit light as Richard Strauss’ magnificent “Also Sprach Zarathustra” (the ascending anthem of “2001: A Space Odyssey”) blares through the speakers. Guided by the narration from the esteemed Orson Welles and in time for the climactic music, several species of ape-men begin to stand for the first time in erect fashion . . . and collectively begin masturbating furiously before crashing to the ground.
And what better way to begin a classic Mel Brooks comedy than to display our ancestral forefathers giving origin to the name Homo erectus?
Given the protracted nature of mankind’s history, it is not surprising that Brooks’ seventh picture is more of a collection of farcical sketches than a formulaic feature-length comedy. Even though this movie is somewhat accurate as it chronicles the historic activities of characters such as Tomas de Torquemada and King Louis XVI, it should be previewed by parents before handed off to children studying for their seventh grade history exam.
In fact, after the relatively PG-humor of “Young Frankenstein”, “Silent Movie”, and most recently “High Anxiety”, one began to wonder if the man who strapped on “Blazing Saddles” had gone soft on his audiences. But armed with a history book indexed with pages of ridiculously named characters, Mr. Brooks makes the audience his classroom. And he has lots of dirty pictures to draw upon the chalkboard.
Accompanying their old friend on his historical romp in his legendary crew of raucous teachers: Dom DeLuise, Madeline Kahn, Harvey Korman, and of course, Cloris Leachman (funny as hell as the French revolutionary Madame DeFarge). As in “Blazing Saddles”, Richard Pryor was cast to play a principal character. And once again, Mr. Pryor had to be replaced by another actor. Shortly before filming was to begin, Pryor accidentally set himself on fire while freebasing cocaine and drinking 151. In addition to the role of the slave Josephus, the incident cost Mr. Pryor severe skin grafts. But it did create for him a comic routine that will last for all eternity: “When you are on fire, people get out of your way.”
After losing Pryor a second time as a principal actor, Brooks gave the role of Josephus to the late Gregory Hines (seriously, the man has got to be tired of funerals) in his cinematic screen debut. Thus began an enjoyable but tragically brief acting career for Mr. Hines.
Other notable appearances from talented comedians include Dom DeLuise as Julius Caesar, looking like James Gandolfini with a hangover, and old-time collaborator Sid Caesar as a caveman named Gunga. Fans of Brooks might remember that he used to write for Caesar on “Your Show of Shows” and “Caesar’s Hour” in the 1950’s. Bea Arthur, Hugh Hefner, and Henny Youngman all make crowd-pleasing cameos during the Roman Empire segment. Hef must have brought a squad of Playmates with him because Brooks ended up casting several of them as Vestal Virgins.
But before we get there, let’s cover Brooks’ summary of the Stone Age, where Gunga the caveman makes grand discoveries for prehistoric mankind. As Welles narrates, this is the movie at its most uproarious, with each discovery funnier than the first. Classic moment: the thrilled expression on Sid Caesar’s face as he clubs a cavewoman and drags her away in the first Homo sapien marriage.
The director/writer/star makes rampant appearances throughout his parody of the historical spectacular as Tomas de Torquemada, the first Inquisitor General of fifteenth century Spain, as well as Moses, presenting these fifteen, “CRASH!” . . . ten commandments for all to obey. I have to credit Mr. Brooks for installing within me the correct pronunciation of Torquemada’s name: “Let’s face it, you can’t torquemada anything.”
But while these episodes evoke great laughter from the audience, particularly the Spanish Inquisition being set to an elaborate musical number, the bulk of storyline material is dedicated to two separate parodies: The Roman Empire, ridiculing the sword and sandal epic and The French Revolution, mocking the costume period drama.
With irreverent timing, Brooks leads his classroom down the avenues of first-century Rome where slaves are auctioned on top of carts and street side inventors give eloquent explanations of indoor plumbing. This is Brooks’ Rome. It would be considered fantastic if not for the obvious limitations in set design. Take notice of the numerous matte paintings used for background.
Brooks plays Comicus, a stand-up philosopher who just scored the biggest gig of his career working the main room at Caesar’s palace. Just like “High Anxiety”, he is accompanied by the faithful presence of Ron Carey, who plays his agent Swiftus (probably a tongue-in-cheek reference to superagent Irving Paul “Swifty” Lazar).
A funny thing happens, though, on the way to the palace. He encounters Josephus, a charismatic slave trying to entertain his way out of being served as lion meat, and Miriam (introducing Mary-Margaret Humes), who introduces herself as a Vestal Virgin. With practiced deadpan, Brooks stares right into the camera: “I’m sorry to hear that.” Miriam persuades the Empress Nympho (Madeline Kahn, how I miss you) to employ Josephus as a wine steward for the emperor’s throne room.
It isn’t long before Comicus offends DeLuise’s Caesar and the rest of The Roman Empire becomes a collection of slapstick chase sequences. That is, until the group escapes to Judea and Brooks gets his big chance to parody the Last Supper. Taking a break from a repertoire of heavy drama, John Hurt does a cameo as Jesus Christ.
After impressing the audience with a grandiose production detailing the Spanish Inquisition, Brooks tackles the French Revolution with nonsensical and lavish force. It is probably here where the feature most deserves its R-rating. The writer/director portrays two characters in this segment: Jacques, the peasant piss boy, and King Louis XVI, who spends much of the segment humping French maidens and repeatedly speaking one of Mr. Brooks’ best lines ever into the camera: “It’s good to be the king.”
Despite the name of the picture, no sequel was ever released. As a matter of fact, Brooks only gave the movie this name because he was tired of being asked what his next picture would be. However, at the end of the film, there is a joke trailer for Part II featuring Hitler on ice, a Viking funeral, and a bizarre sequence called “Jews in Space”, in which rabbis cruise the galaxy in spaceships designed to look like the Star of David. In many ways, this part of the movie suggests his growing interest in the sci-fi genre, which would eventually become “Spaceballs”.
Film fans who are searching the comedy shelves for mundane romantic subplots should look elsewhere than Mr. Brooks’ library of inane comedy. His style of comedy goes beyond anarchistic and absurdist. It is not a brand of humor for everybody, and I think it is too bad we do not see more of this style in today’s comedy. But then again, we have some disciples. And I bet Sascha Baron Cohen is an even bigger fan of his work than I am.
Van Halen fans, out there. Notice anyone special among the Spanish Inquisition monks? David Lee Roth is hard to spot with his short-cropped hair but that’s him filling in for backup during Mel Brooks’ big number.
