The ground was primed: I had been recently voted the school clown by our principal. My reputation was based mostly on slapstick – banging into walls, slipping on freshly buffed floors, and making faces at unsuspecting teachers. Since I was about 7, Buster Keaton had been my idol – a dangerous role model as it turned out. By age 10, I had managed to break both of my arms already.
Silent comedy was, inadvertently, part of my primary education: my father took me to see Keaton’s Three Ages (1923) at a local art house, complete with a live piano accompaniment. We also never missed the weekly TV screenings of other slapstick masters. When it was announced that Mel Brooks was premiering his Silent Movie (1976), we were first in line. Naturally, Marty Feldman’s character resonated with me the most, as he was the most kinetic madman in the cast.
By the time I turned 12, my arms have healed and my brain started to display early signs of self-awareness. Monty Python reruns on television confused me with verbal and situational absurdities – humour, I suddenly discovered, could be a bit more complicated than just a silly walk. Why would they have to build a ministry for that? And then, it dawned on me: adults can be as much idiotic as kids, and just as clueless.
It was the winter High Anxiety came out.
I had known about Hitchcock – by experience (Rope, Birds, Vertigo) and by reputation (Psycho, Frenzy). In High Anxiety, Mel Brooks spells out his admiration quite directly in the opening credits: “This film is dedicated to the Master of Suspense”. But, in the same sequence, Brooks establishes his own tone immediately: the hero’s terrified face in one of the airplane windows sets him apart from the other passengers. It is not just a terrified face – it is a wildly exaggerated impression of fear by one of the most pliable faces in cinema – Brooks’ own. For a 12-year-old me, it spelled comfort of ridicule. Clearly, there was nothing to fear. The ensuing 95 minutes provided the greatest bliss I have ever experienced in my short life, and, honestly, for a long time to come.
Brooks was a clever man. He turned scary adult anxieties into absurd fun. For a comedy, High Anxiety is still a story of overcoming psychological disorders. Not just the fear of heights, but also of paranoia, sexual inadequacy, and confidence issues. Not exactly topics for children, but – and here’s the key – Brooks applied an adulterated, juvenile filter to the proceedings. He took Hitchcock’s obsessions back to kindergarten – the film is a classic case of regression. The hero, Richard Harpo Thorndyke (Brooks), a psychiatrist, is full of neurosis. But, among the cast of veritable candidates for a lunatic asylum, he remains the sanest. Much like his namesake, Harpo – the most innocent of the Marx Brothers.
Naturally, as a child watching this film, I was mostly bemused by the sheer insanity of adults acting so immaturely. I loved the deranged patient behaving like a Cocker spaniel (Charlie Callas) – you couldn’t call yourself a kid if you didn’t. Harvey Korman as the bad doctor left me in stitches when, equipped with false vampire teeth, forced a psychotic reaction from a patient (Ron Clark, also co-writer).
But it was Nurse Diesel that really hit the spot. Armed with a ballistic bra and a permanent scowl, she is the main antagonist in this story. Up to that point, I’ve never seen a woman so funny on film – such a brilliantly conceived and named character, acted with wild abandon by the incomparable Cloris Leachman. [I hadn’t experienced Young Frankenstein yet, so Frau Blücher was not a reference.] Nurse Diesel remains my first introduction to a female comedy genius – a fact that I will cherish forever. She took the edge off my own insecurity regarding women, as my hormones had just started to kick in. The film made me realise that we are all allowed to act funny – men as well as women. There was something liberating about it, and gave me a sense of equality I didn’t see in the streets or at school. In addition, Madeline Kahn as the hero’s love interest was both sexy and hilarious at the same time – a combination I had never thought possible! So, yes, High Anxiety was an eye opener in more ways than one.
The movie is considered a satire on Hitchcock's films, but, to be honest, Brooks didn’t employ as many direct Master of Suspense references as one might assume. I did get a few obvious ones: the pigeon attack in a park, or the climactic tower scene – both were identifiable parodies. But the one that stayed with me occurs in a hotel room. While taking a shower, Dr. Thorndyke is attacked by a disgruntled bellboy – the Psycho knife turns to a rolled-up newspaper. I will never forget that high-pitched scream delivered by the bellboy (co-writer Barry Levinson): “Here’s your paper! Here’s your paper! Happy now?! Happy?!” That moment still remains one of my favourite bits of inspired parody, but back then I was simply in heaven.
What I didn’t get at the time, aside from the BDSM and other sexual allusions, were some rather clever send-ups of other cinematic masterpieces. For instance, Thorndyke’s driver, Brophy (Ron Carey) deals with his nervousness by taking photographs. Accidentally, one of his shots may provide the key clue to a murder. The sequence of developing the photo and enlarging it to ridiculously gigantic proportions recalls the famous scene from Antonioni’s Blow Up (1966). Suddenly, Mel Brooks has gone Cortázar on us.
High Anxiety was the first film in my life I had to see immediately the next day. And I did. Sure, it gave me joy I badly needed at the time, but, really, when do we not need joy? I return to this film at regular intervals, much more so than to other Brooks films. I know it by heart. But even with the battle fatigue of multiple viewings, I crack up just thinking about individual scenes. Like the vampire teeth therapy session. At 12, I promptly borrowed this gag, which got me terrific comedic mileage at primary school, but also a disciplinary suspension.
It was worth it.
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