"Blazing Saddles" was Brooks at the top of his game, doing what his many imitators have never been able to match. Everyone from the Zuckers to the Farrellys knows that rapid-fire jokes, especially the cheap kind, always go over well. Ditto for anything involving sex or bodily functions. But what distinguished Brooks was his gift for sneaking bold social comment in the mix. "I think most of my movies are serious," he has said. "They have their roots in some terrible things." He just put those things in there in a way that was so good-natured, so unaccusatory or nonangry, that they went down as cool and sweet as ice cream.

"The Producers" had been the story of two Jews and an affable German war criminal who mount a play featuring storm troopers singing, "Look out, here comes the master race." No wonder not everybody got it the first time. But a great Brooks production isn't insensitive or cavalier. On the contrary, Brooks does care, enough to go off to fight Nazis while still a teenager, to humbly thank "an avalanche of Jews" as he accepts a Tony. It's just that he isn't afraid to shrug and blow a big raspberry in the face of things that would otherwise scare the crap out of us.

"The greatest comedy plays against the greatest tragedy," he has said. "Comedy is a red rubber ball and if you throw it against a soft, funny wall, it will not come back. But if you throw it against the hard will of ultimate reality, it will bounce back and be very lively."

"Blazing Saddles" similarly bounced the ball against concepts that normally make people squirm, and did it with persuasive aplomb. It's a movie that unblinkingly bats around the word "nigger" and famously makes sport of white anxiety about black sexuality. Cleavon Little's "Excuse me while I whip this out" isn't just funny, it's disarmingly so, a moment so loose and silly the tensions it springs from are cleverly reconfigured.

The movie was a winner, and Brooks followed with the lesser but still appealing "Young Frankenstein." A straightforward parody rather than social satire (co-written with its star Gene Wilder), "Young Frankenstein" nevertheless turned classic movie convention on its head -- and even managed to slip in a few barbs at the expense of academia and authority. Brooks had another hit.

	Print story E-mail story

But after a string of successes, Brooks seemed to lose his way, or at least to rest on his laurels. Subsequent films, from "Silent Movie" to 1995's unforgivable "Dracula: Dead and Loving It," lampooned cinematic formulas without the sweet affection for the originals of Brooks' earlier works. The later films overflowed with gags, but rarely found the smart, sharp underpinnings that had made his first few films such treasures. (There were momentary exceptions -- notably "History of the World Part I's" showstopping ode to the Inquisition.)

Redeemingly, all the while he was directing less and less entertaining works Brooks was also producing. Under the aegis of the dignified-sounding Brooksfilms, he was quietly bringing high-quality films like "The Elephant Man" and "Frances" to the screen.

It wasn't a bad way to wind up -- a respected businessman and beloved creator of a handful of classic comedies. Sure, his shtick might be out of touch with contemporary audiences, but so what? Who doesn't expect to have their best work behind them by their 70s? Who even plans to still be working at all then?

But Mel Brooks isn't like the rest of us. So the love of the stage that drove him to do Catskills stand-up as a teenager and infused his first film with its lighthearted center eventually and inevitably led Brooks to Broadway. Collaborating with an enviable theatrical team including director Susan Stroman and stars Nathan Lane and Matthew Broderick, Brooks finally brought his Broadway valentine to Broadway. "The Producers" opened in April and the response was enthusiastic, to say the least. If you're lucky, you might be able to get tickets for April 2002.

Sizing up the competition at this year's Tonys, including the Masterpiece Theatre bombast of "Jane Eyre" and the dated schmaltz of "A Class Act," it's a no-brainer why "The Producers" steamrolled over the rest. It's energetic. It's irreverent. It marks a return to Brooks' intelligent brand of absurdity -- no other writer could sum up Hitler's rise to power with "I was just a paperhanger, no one more obscurer. Got a phone call from the Reichstag, told me I was Führer." In short, thank God, the show's as funny as hell.

But there's something else behind its success. Along with the pleasure of a show that's bright and tuneful and casts the most notorious figure of the 20th century as a dimwitted drag queen, there's the Mel factor -- the relief in seeing that talent doesn't have to be an exhaustible resource, and that youthful exuberance isn't always wasted on the young.

The day after the Tonys, the New York papers featured photos of the triumphant "Producers" creator holding his award and mugging for the cameras. Brooks will never be a paragon of dignity, but he sure looks like he's having a good time, and it's infectious. There's a moment in the play, after "Springtime for Hitler" becomes a hit, when Max Bialystock exasperatedly wails, "NOW they like me!"

The same could never be said of his offstage counterpart. We've always loved Brooks, no matter how checkered his career. We've just been waiting for this moment to see what we've always hoped -- that he's still got it, and, baby, he still knows how to flaunt it.

Click here to send a Brilliant Careers postcard, visit the Brilliant Career archives or check out audio and video highlights.