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The most telling realization on seeing Nathan Lane and Matthew Broderick in the film version of The Producers is the regret of never having seen them in the Broadway production. However hard they try to emulate their stage performances - which in their cases is very - the film is never able to fully capture the sheer exuberance and energy of a live musical. Despite director Susan Stroman's best efforts to faithfully replicate Mel Brooks' hilarious Tony award-winning production, it ultimately feels like a dull copy.
One critical missing element is applause. For the film's many lavish numbers to end in silence rather than the rapturous acclaim that greets a live performance is a stark reminder of why so much of a musical's appeal is dependent on an audience's involvement.
There's something ironic about producing a film of a musical based on a film. While the stage adaptation seemed like a natural development of Brooks' 1968 film, this version, co-written by Brooks and Thomas Meehan, lacks the invention of the previous two incarnations. Nevertheless, with such great material and two superb actors, even a slightly stilted Producers still has plenty going for it.
Lane is irresistibly ebullient as the failing theatre producer Max Bialystock. His kinetic slapstick turn inspires awe at the thought he was able to reproduce it eight times a week. In the more subdued part of the nebbish accountant Leo Bloom, Broderick offers the occasional glimpse of his predecessor in the role, Gene Wilder. Max, portrayed originally by Zero Mostel, weasels money for his productions by indulging little old ladies their playful whims. With unsurprising failings such as 'Funny Boy - a musical version of Hamlet,' Max's fortunes have waned. But, as Bloom points out after going over Max's accounts, it's actually possible to make more money from a flop than a hit.
The realization prompts Max to produce what he envisages as being a surefire failure. Franz Liebkind's (Will Ferrell) script Springtime For Hitler - A Gay Romp With Adolf And Eva At Berchtesgaden' appears guaranteed to not only fail, but offend. With the flamboyant Roger De Bris (Gary Beach) directing, surely nothing can go right. Or can it?
Uma Thurman adds some glamour and plenty of set-up lines for Max and Leo as the pair's Swedish assistant Ulla, while the under-used Ferrell stretches his well-developed absurdist muscles as the Nazi obsessed Liebkind.
Given a bigger canvas with which to work, Stroman, who choreographed the Broadway production, missed an opportunity to create dance sequences with the scale and daring of say Moulin Rouge and Chicago. But seeing such troopers as Lane and Broderick hoofing about offers its own joys. Not the same as witnessed first hand perhaps, but at considerably less expense.
Kevin Murphy