Pied Piper Pan

Playful Pan starts out like any Disney cartoon of 1930—there are animals dancing and music played from makeshift instruments.

Who can watch that for seven minutes? Even in 1930?

The cartoon gets a plot about half-way through. Clouds dancing to the tunes smash their butts together to create lightning that begins burning down the forest.

A fox with a squeak-toy voice runs to Playful Pan to get his help to put out the fire. After all, his music started the whole thing.



He gets an idea. He plays a tune that gets the flames (with little legs) to dance their way into a lake and commit suicide.



We cut to a little flame bringing up the rear; Friz Freleng used the same concept for gags in later cartoons at Warners. Pan’s music still can’t get the flame to jump in the lake, so the little goat-boy smashes him into pieces and uses his flute as a fire extinguisher to put out each piece.



A lot of good it does. The forest has been burned down. Pan fades out to end the cartoon.

Disney appears to be trying for something a little more elaborate by filling the screen with characters. The action is animated on ones.

Operatic Turnabout

Poochini the opera singer gets his revenge on the magician at the end of Magical Maestro by turning the phoney conductor into all the transformation guises he went through during the cartoons. The last one is the Hawaiian war dance (with accompanying magicians rabbits) with the goofy head twists, no doubt animated by Grant Simmons.



There’s nothing else director Tex Avery can do so, logically, this happens.



Rich Hogan helped with the gags and the other credited animators are Mike Lah and Walt Clinton. The cartoon was released in 1952.

Benny's Bomb Was Not at Midnight

The Horn Blows at Midnight got mixed reviews from movie critics when it came out in 1945, but Jack Benny and his writers decided it would be funny to deem it a failure, and joke about it whenever they needed a gag about his acting or his successes.

Jack didn’t joke about the real bomb in his career, one few of his fans likely know about.

Rochester used to answer the phone on the Benny radio show, and proclaim Jack “star of stage, screen,” etc. He was referring to the vaudeville stage. But Jack had a shot on the legitimate stage, one that was very short-lived.

In September 1934, Jack Benny was on the air for General Tire and was about to switch to General Foods. He had just filmed Transatlantic Merry-Go-Round, another fluffy musical-comedy. He was then signed to star, in between episodes of his New York-based radio show, in impresario Sam Harris’ production of the George S. Kaufman/Morrie Ryskind satire on Roosevelt’s New Deal, “Bring on the Girls.” They hoped to take it to Broadway.

It started at 1321 Pennsylvania Avenue NW in Washington, D.C. The play opened on Monday, October 22, 1934. The day before, the Washington Star’s theatre critic gave a fine capsule biography of Jack Benny to that time.

This Season of Theater Has Plenty of Surprises
Fred Stone's Debut as a Dramatic Player Was One of Them, and Now Comes Jack Benny of Radio Fame in New Play.
BY E. de S. MELCHER.
THE current theater season is fraught with surprises. No sooner do we get acquainted with Fred Stone as a straight actor (we wonder if the late Mr. Montgomery would have done the same) than a flood of announcements comes to the effect that other music men are going serious, that serious men are going musical, that comedians are turning tragedians and that Hamlets are turning into the Four Marx Brothers.
Beyond that we find Miss Ethel Barrymore, once the brightest star in the theater, playing second Addle to Eva La Gallienne in “L’Aiglon,” we find a young screen player like Douglas Fairbanks, coming back with a former musical comedy performer, Gertrude Lawrence, to play in a very serious play, “Moonlight Is Silver,” which has been written by the increasingly popular Clemence Dane—we hear that the former “Autumn Crocus” star, now the screen star of “Pursuit of Happiness,” Francis Lederer, is coming to Broadway to produce some kind of a show of his own. Such varieties help the now of the theater. Surprises behind footlights are always welcome. If you have seen “Merrily We Roll Along,” in New York, you know that even controversy breeds success, and that the much-mutilated Elmer Rice play, “Judgment Day,” is holding its own.
So when we hear that a radio wag, Jack Benny, is coming here in theater disguise, minus music, minus songs, and presumably minus impromptu gags, then we must take that as part of this year's matter of course, putting this event in the files along with Mr Stone, Miss Barrymore, Mr. Fairbanks, Miss Lawrence and Mr. Lederer.
JOHN PETER TOOHEY, sage henchman of Sam Harris, knowing more about Mr. Benny than we do, we herewith give you his own words of the somewhat great man:
Benny, who was declared the most popular comedian on the air by more than three hundred radio editors in a census taken early this year, is coming to Washington this week ‘in the flesh.’ He is to be the bright particular featured player in the new George Kaufman-Morrie Ryskind farce 'Bring on the Girls,’ which is to be unveiled tomorrow night at the National Theater and which is to be offered to metropolitan theatergoers three weeks hence as a successor to the same authors' triumphant ‘Of Thee I Sing,’
Benny makes his living, and a right handsome one, with his voice at the present time, but it took the World War to start him talking. Before joining the Navy he played a violin in vaudeville and said nothing. After one attempt to raise funds with a musical appeal at a benefit, Benny dropped the violin and started talking. Since then he has talked his way through several Shubert musical revues, two editions of Earl Carroll's ‘Vanities,’ half a dozen feature motion pictures and into radio over broadcasting networks as a laugh-getting master of ceremonies.
“He is noted as a wit, monologist, comedian. His quips and stories have enlivened stage, screen and air. But is a hard master. For years after he deserted music for speech, Benny carried the old violin on and off the stage at each appearance. He never played it, just carried it along and looked at it wistfully now and then. Some day, he says, he’s going to use it again, providing he can stop talking long enough.
“Mr. Benny always had ambitions. His family lived in Waukegan, Ill., but he was born in Chicago. Then they carried him back to Waukegan, and he stayed there for 17 years. He was not idle, by any means, during those years. “ 'My father gave me a violin and a monkey wrench,’ explains Benny. 'He told me not to take chances, that plumbing wasn’t a bad business.’
“Young Benny didn’t get far with the monkey wrench, but he was practicing on the violin before he was 6 years old. When his 13th birthday arrived he was still at it, and by the time he was 14 he had determined to make it his profession. He started with an orchestra, playing for dances in and around Waukegan. He was 16 then, and after one year with the orchestra he decided he had sufficient professional standing to go on the stage. With a partner who played the piano while he played the violin, Benny launched his first vaudeville act.
"For six years he toured back and forth across the United States, playing his violin and saying nothing. Then the United States entered the war and Benny joined the Navy. As a musician he was soon drafted for sailor shows for the Seamen's Benefit Fund. His violin playing brought applause, but no contributions. After all, reasoned Benny, if you want money, you have to ask for it. He put the instrument down and broke a six-year silence.
"He got contributions. But what surprised him more, he got laughs. Gingerly he tried a few more gags. A wave of laughter swept through the audience. At the next show, Benny played less and wise-cracked more. When the war was over he returned to vaudeville as a monologist.
"In the years that followed, Jack Benny, a glib young man carrying a violin he never played, became a celebrated comedian. He was a headliner in vaudeville and one of the first and most successful masters of ceremonies in Broadway revues. He was a popular night club entertainer.
"Apparently, he was permanently attached to the theater when the end of a transcontinental vaudeville tour brought him to the Orpheum Theater, in Los Angeles, the port of Hollywood. Benny stayed at the Orpheum for eight straight weeks, establishing a new house record for a single artist. Meanwhile talking pictures and the first wave of screech revues came to Hollywood.
"To keep the talking Jack Benny out of talking pictures would have been a real problem. Nobody tried to. Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer promptly offered him a contract and he made his screen debut as a master of ceremonies in the “Hollywood Revue.” Other feature pictures and comedy shorts followed in rapid succession. Benny might have been in Hollywood yet, if he hadn’t met a Los Angeles girl—and continued to talk. The young lady just nodded her head and said they would go East for their honeymoon. (Now she is doing some talking for herself and you frequently hear her on the air with Benny. Her radio name is Mary Livingstone.)
"The Bennys arrived in New York just as Earl Carroll was casting the annual edition of his vanities. At Carroll's request Benny dropped into witness a rehearsal. When the curtain went up on the opening night Benny was still there. He was, in fact, the star of the show.
"For two years he was the leading comedian and master of ceremonies in the Carroll revue. Then came radio, and now the comedian is making his debut in the first straight play in which he has ever appeared. His weekly broadcasts are now being made every Sunday night so that they will in no ways interfere with his playing on the stage.”

A person acquainted with Benny at Great Lakes responded to the column. You can read it in this post.

Melcher was present opening night. He proclaimed Benny “played his first straight comedy role with an agreeable ease,” but incisively explained what the problem with the play was. “For the first half hour the play’s lines are sure fire. For the second, they are warm. After that you begin to wonder why the actors even bothered.”

In other words, Kaufman and Ryskind had a great first act but there was nothing left by the third. After the week-long tryout in Washington, Variety reported on Oct. 30th the production was shut down while the last act was entirely re-written, and stated on Nov. 6th it would play three days at New Haven, and then in Boston before heading to the Great White Way.

The trade paper reviewed opening night in New Haven and you can read that review in this Tralfaz post. The play had the same problem; it fizzled out after the first act. You can see the Boston Globe review of opening night on Nov. 26 to the right. The Harvard Crimson loved it and the paper’s review is on this website.

The aforementioned post also gives Variety’s coverage of the satire’s demise. After two weeks in Boston—with a meagre box office take in the second week—and another week in Springfield and Hartford, Harris pulled the show in mid-December with the idea of mounting it again during the next theatrical season. It never happened.

This dud didn’t hurt Jack Benny in the slightest. He carried on with his radio show for General Foods (Jell-O) and now had spare time for personal appearances, which always seemed to get good reviews and, of course, added to the Benny bank account. “Bring on the Girls” didn’t warrant a line on Jack’s radio show after it died. Perhaps it’s easier getting laughs from a phoney flop instead of a real one.

She Saved Tom and Jerry

Joe Barbera’s book mentions that Tom and Jerry were saved from being one-shot characters because of a letter from Besa Short to MGM asking when more cat and mouse cartoons would be released. He told this story a number of times, including some years ago in a short interview with Jerry Beck.

Nobody today knows who Besa Short is. But in hunting around researching some other stuff, I found a feature article mentioning her. She certainly loved short films and promoted the crap out of them. I’m going to post the article because it’s an interesting footnote in the promotion of, and attitude toward, cartoons at the time. This is from ‘Every Week Magazine’, one of those syndicated weekend newspaper magazines that were popular at one time. The date is August 9, 1942.

Hollywood Hails Return of Shorts
By DEE LOWRANCE
HOLLYWOOD
The biggest news story in films since the war began is just now starting to leak out. Prepare for a shock—shorts are staging a comeback.
It’s been over 10 years since one- and two-reelers (with the exception of cartoons and newsreels) first took a back seat. Their forced retirement came at the depths of the Depression when movie men, desperate at the way audiences were staying away from theaters in droves, decided to hypo the box office. Taking a tip from the one-cent sales in drug stores, they hit on the idea of offering two films for the price of one.
The double feature was born. Triple, quadruple, quintuple features, all in one theater, appeared. “Bring a box lunch and stay all day,” advertised one movie house.
The competition became too tough. It soon dropped—two features were all any normal audience could take. Vaudeville acts fell by the wayside. Shorts were doomed.
Since then, no matter what happened—floods, drouth [sic], pestilence, or financial crashes, anything and everything to harass movie producers—all have been blamed on the double feature. Editorials have been penned, laws made, speeches ranted—but the double feature stayed put.
Shorts, the oldest film form, favorite son for so long, became the films’ stepchild. Short subjects producers were pushed into out-of-the-way parts of the studio, when they worked at all. Nary a line about then appeared in the papers—they were the Forgotten Men of Hollywood.
A FEW names did break through the great silence about shorts. There was Pete Smith, who started to kid serious subjects, giving his brief pictures a comedy smasheroo that put his name on the map. And long before Uncle Sam mixed into picture making at all, the Warner Brothers, with Gordon Hollingshead producing, began to make patriotic shorts in Technicolor to sell America to the Americans.
Newsreels, at the rate of two issues a week from five film companies, went along with every double-feature program and, hot on their heels, came the March of Time two-reel news coverage which rapidly forced itself into theater acceptance.
By and large, though, the double feature held a death grip on movie theaters. The return of shorts has been a long time coming. A straw in the wind was the rise of the news-reel theaters in the nation’s largest cities, with their added use of briefies. Super-duper length pictures like “Gone With the Wind,” which were too much in themselves to carry a B-picture, too, allowed a few shorts to be squeezed into a program.
Little by little, theater men have put out their own feelers. Wasn’t one really fine feature-length film, framed with excellent shorts, better than shoving two poor features down an audience’s throat? Some have tried, and the results have been on the whole most successful.
Down in Texas a real crusader, with a white banner lettered “Down With the Double Bill,” appeared. It might have seemed as if her name had ordained her crusade.
Miss Besa Short is responsible for all programs booked into 175 southwest movie houses. If you want to make her see red, hit the ceiling and lambaste the lot of you, just say “also selected short subjects” to her. That line is a battle cry to Besa Short. With the idea that dismissing shorts in those four words was entertainment murder, Besa Short started out some time ago on her campaign to make exhibitors, and through them the public, properly short-conscious.
Choosing her shorts with as much care as that given to full-length features, Besa Short booked them with an eye to balancing the programs evenly. A long comedy was surrounded by serious shorts; a heavy drama was relieved by bright featurettes.
Then she started a minor revolution in her part of the world. She went after publicity for shorts—newspaper notices, critical reviews. Next she saw that each theater had special lobby displays about the shorts they were playing; also advertised coming shorts in advance.
Naturally, Besa Short is a big name among Hollywood’s shorts producers, a heroine. Her work has been watched carefully by other theater bookers. The trend away from double features is beginning to gather momentum.
The war itself is having much to do with it. The defence shorts now being made at all Hollywood studios in co-operation with the United States government are being released all over the country. More are on their way. Made with the double-edged intention of entertaining while instructing the public, these shorts are playing a tremendously important role in keeping the public aware of all branches of the nation’s effort to halt Hitler and nip the Nips.
Experts on shorts are doing even more, which will not be seen by the public. Working with all branches of the service, they are making training films to be used to help whip our armed forces into shape.
The government-inspired shorts, made to entertain, too, will probably become the final blow against double features. For with each of them shown on a program, other shorts will be needed and the second, weaker features can be dropped. Few tears will be shed, for Hollywood and the film public alike are tiring of the two-for-the-price-of-one idea, especially as it often means two weak pictures instead of one good and an assortment of shorts.
With this in mind, let’s look at the present shorts picture. The production of shorts is divided between New York and Hollywood with the latter becoming more important all the time. Almost one-third of all cartoon shorts now being made are cartoons. Disney, with his Donald Duck and Mickey Mouse, still holds the top spot in cartoons. Those that he is making for the government are blazing new trails in educational jungles. But, since Disney’s attention has been on feature-length cartoons and defense and training pictures, other cartoon producers have grabbed their chance to push ahead.
Right now Disney has been getting some stiff competition in comic cartoons from two particular talents. Leon Schlesinger has two series, making some 39 to 42 of them a year, that are giving Donald Duck a run for his money. These are his “Looney Tunes,” with that mad Bugs Bunny (did you see his “Any Bonds Today?” or “The Wabbit Who Came to Supper”?) and “Merrie Melodies” which often feature Porky the schoolboy piglet. The Tom and Jerry series at MGM, with that fearsome pair, the cat and mouse cavorting, also should make Disney watch out for his laurels.
Popeye the Sailor continues to have a fine, flourishing following among cartoon addicts and George Paal [sic], who takes puppets and makes pictures in the cartoon tradition, is striding along in a field all to himself. Two-reelers, shorts which run for up to 20 minutes, make up a third of the remaining shorts, with twice as many one-reelers being made. Outstanding in the two-reel class are the patriotic shorts mentioned before. Gordon Hollingshead, who has always produced them, worked with films overseas in the first World War. After the war he came to Hollywood where he got into film production first as assistant director on every film John Barrymore made. From there, he went higher in production.
While doing research for the Errol Flynn starrer, “Captain Blood,” Hollingshead got the idea for the first of the color patriotic two-reelers, which told the story of the way our national anthem was written. Since then these shorts of his have covered all aspects of American history, beautifully dramatized, superbly photographed. His latest had audiences cheering. Called “March On, America,” it summarizes the United States’ growth since the Pilgrims, bringing us right up to date in a stirring, heart-warming manner.
Another important branch of Hollingshead’s worth concerns a series of shorts designed to make the public better acquainted with various branches of the armed services. They have also been a great aid to swelling enlistment.
No story on shorts could be written without due credit to Pete Smith. His office bristles with medals and awards he has won for the excellence of his shorts and he has been elected by the other shorts producers as their spokesman. At a time when double features blanketed all shorts, word-of-mouth publicity boomed for this maker of unusual shorts, interlarded with high wit, amusing situations, fascinating subjects and a commentary spoken in his dry, arresting voice.
Perhaps one of the best proofs of the way his shorts are gobbled up is the fact that every other studio has, at one time or another, tried to copy them. But the real thing is marked by Pete’s own very gifted touch, probably because he is a one-man production company, writing, directing, producing each of his shorts with little if any help.
There is no end to the subjects covered in one and two-reelers. Sports, pie-in-the-eye comedies, musicals, travelogues, musicals, dances, all and many more appear. High on the honor role are several different stories that are made and released consistently and will give you an idea of the scope of shorts.
There is, for instance, the dramatic series—like “Crime Doesn’t Pay” and “Stranger Than Fiction:; the question-answering kind, topped by “Information Please” and “The Quiz Kids”; Robert Benchley’s self-acted monologues; old-time comics at work—“The Three Stooges,” Leon Erroll [sic], Edgar Kennedy, Buster Keaton, Charlie [sic] Chase and “Our Gang.”
For music lovers, all sorts of orchestras and bands are photographed in south while the dance made can have jitterbug or unusual dancing spectacles like the series now starring the Ballet Russe de Monte Carlo.
Now, more than ever, shorts are used as a proving ground for new talent. Until Dorothy Morris appeared in Pete Smith’s “What About Daddy?” no one paid much attention to her. Now she’s having a star build-up at MGM. Other stars who came through shorts are Deanna Durbin, Judy Garland, Robert Taylor, George Murphy, Ann Rutherford, Alexis Smith and countless others who met their first audiences in shorts.
Established stars, too, often work in shorts. And, as they continue to gain in popularity as they are now, bigger and bigger names will be seen in what was for so long Hollywood’s downtrodden stepchild.

Besa Short left Interstate Theatres in 1946 to work for MGM to handle short subjects promotion. She died in Dallas on August 19, 1974, age 79.

Encounter With a Street Lamp

Hallucinating Felix is fun.

There are some great scenes Felix Dines and Pines (1927) of morphing monsters. We get a bit more of the same in Felix Woos Whoopee (1930) where the cat gets drunk on speakeasy hootch.

In this one, Felix greets a street lamp, which does a little dance, then jumps on it. The lamp turns into a smoke-spewing dragon that chases after him in perspective. The creature opens its mouth and “swallows” the camera.



Poor Felix had fallen from greatness by this point. Producer Pat Sullivan was interested in the sound of hootch falling into his own glass instead of sound in his cartoons. Educational Pictures dropped Felix. He was picked up for release by Copley Pictures on a state’s rights basis with music and vocal effects added after the cartoons were made to increase their saleability. Felix didn’t really make a comeback (despite starring in some shorts for Van Beuren) until the TV cartoons produced by Trans-Lux in the 1950s.

This Is the Way We Wash a Witch

Perhaps the least-scary witch in theatrical cartoons was the nameless one who tried to get back her broom from Woody Woodpecker in Witch Crafty (1955).

This was animated by what looks like a B-list crew from Warner Bros. 15-plus-years earlier: Gil Turner, Bob Bentley and Herman Cohen. There isn’t a lot of fun animation here, except for a little sequence where the witch has tunneled under Woody’s broom factory to retrieve her magic broom. He pushes a washer-dryer into position.



The witch breaks through the floor and the bottom of the washer (powerful witch to bust through metal, isn’t she?). The animator and in-betweener(s) have a little fun with the drawings. Clarence Wheeler tosses in the Irish Washerwoman tune in the background.

\\

After drying, the witch emerges from the top. This is about a wild as you’ll see in a cartoon directed by Paul J. Smith.



It would appear Mike Maltese started writing this cartoon, then got re-hired at Warner Bros., so Homer Brightman finished it.

From Shorthair to Spy

At the end, the producers of Get Smart tried to squeeze every last ounce of satiric comedy out of the show, but there was nothing left, and hadn’t been any for some time.

The series ran out of fresh ideas and had to restore to ratings-grabbing clichés as marriage and child birth. But at the start it was clever, intelligent, ridiculous and very funny. A great deal of credit for the show went to the clever, intelligent, ridiculous and very funny Mel Brooks and Buck Henry.

Brooks moved from television and comedy records to memorable feature films. We won’t get into those but will instead check out several interviews with Brooks at the time Get Smart was getting started.

How did Brooks get his start on TV? It wasn’t exactly auspicious. This unbylined story, perhaps from the NBC publicity department, appeared in papers starting March 26, 1965.

Party Laughs Led to Footlights
HOLLYWOOD—For a fellow who was supposed to be a cat in his television debut, but couldn't even meow on cue, Mel Brooks is coming along.
He has become known to a lot of people who buy records and watch television as “the 2000 year old man,” that stocky guy in the black cape and black hat who’s usually being interviewed by Carl Reiner.
The two have made three hit comedy records, several TV guest appearances and now cap these with a visit to the season's fifth and final “Danny Thomas Special” on NBC-TV Friday, April 23 (8:30-9:30 EST).
No one is more surprised at this lengthening list of performing credits than Brooks a writer by trade.
'I'D NEVER PERFORMED in television," said Mel, “and the first thing they gave me to do I nearly goofed.”
That was back in the '50s when “Your Show of Shows” topped the TV comedy field. Sid Caesar was the star, Carl Reiner was second banana and Mel Brooks was one of the writers.
"There was this sketch we called ‘Dial M for Money,’” Mel began. “It was supposed to be spooky-funny and at one point I was supposed to make a sound off-camera like a cat. But when it came time, I froze. Sid had to retrace his steps, go back to my place in the script and give me a second shot at it before I could come through.”
It was at one of the cast parties that followed these shows that "The 2000 year old man” was born.
"WE'D ALWAYS GO to somebody's apartment and have some laughs,” said Mel. "One time Carl brought along a tape recorder. In those days a big show on radio was “We the People”—you know, interviews with unusual characters.
“Well, one night Carl decided he was going to do ‘We the People.’ He pushed the mike in front of me and announced—off the top of his head, I'm sure”—'Here's a man who's lived 2000 years. Let's see what he has to say.’ He started asking me all kinds of questions and I started ad libbing answers. Our friends loved it. We became a big hit on the party circuit".
Next thing the pair knew, they were making a record of the act for Steve Allen's recording company. They proved a smash on platters, "but in personal appearances we didn't do so well,” said Brooks. "Then I got the idea of using the cape and hat and from then on everything's been fine."
Although the cat bit was Brooks' first performance on TV, it wasn't his first performance in front of an audience. For several years he worked outside his native New York in the Catskill Mountain summer resorts known as the “borscht belt" as a social director.
“I did everything from heavy drama to revue comedy to tending the rowboats. But mostly what was expected of me was singing, dancing and not eating with the guests.”
Now, considering how far Mel has come along, maybe they'd let him.

Brooks and Buck Henry took a concept about an inept spy from David Susskind and Dan Melnick and developed it into Get Smart. It might seem odd a writer/creator was picked instead of the star to talk about a series, but Brooks was pretty hot then thanks to the 2,000 Year Old Man. This Newspaper Enterprise Association column appeared starting Sept. 3rd.

Finally, An Inept Spy
By ERSKINE JOHNSON
HOLLYWOOD, Calif. (NEA)—Maxwell Smart is a bungling espionage agent—Secret Agent 86—who works for CONTROL in "its ceaseless conflict with the nefarious agents of KAOS."
Smart is aided by a feminine assistant secret—Agent 99—and Fang, a dog. The dog is as cowardly as Smart is incredibly inept.
Like James Bond, Smart lives in a world of unreality created by CONTROL. A tiny telephone, hidden in the heel of his shoe, rings at the strangest times. While, for instance, he is attending a symphony concert.
The heavies of KAOS are as incredible as Smart is inept. Sinister Mr. Big of KAOS is a midget.
SILENT ROAR
Another villain confronted by Smart's zealous inefficiency is a ballet star.
Among Secret Agent Smart's big collection of deadly weapons is a gun silencer (which produces the roar of a cannon) and an invisible shield which he seldom can locate because it is invisible even to him.
Comedian Don Adams plays the role of Maxwell Smart in NBC's new weekly series, "Get Smart," debuting Sept. 18. Last year Don played Glick, the world's worst house detective, on "The Bill Dana Show."
The creator of Get Smart Is Mel Brooks (with Buck Henry), one-time comedy writer (five years) for Sid Caesar and Imogene Coca. He's also the writer, with Carl Reiner, of the 2000 Year Old Man, which he plays, in the hit comedy album.
"Get Smart" is described by NBC as "a spoof of cloak and dagger heroics." It is closer, however, to being an outrageous triple spoof. Since the first James Bond movie. Agent 007's heroics have been cloaked in satire. A satire on this satire has been the key to the success of television's "The Man From U.N.C.L.E." starring Robert Vaughn as Napoleon Solo.
Now "Get Smart" will spoof both Bond as 007 and Vaughn as Solo.
Is it possible to successfully spoof a spoof of a spoof?
Creator Mel Brooks thinks it is. He says:
"We are simply translating the James Bond syndrome into our terms in adventure comedy. We hope to become America's dessert for laughs. We're not going to edify or illuminate. Our character of Smart is so overearnest I think maybe he will be compared to Harold Lloyd in his early comedies.
"We're not just tongue-in-cheek. We jam our tongue in cheek. We spent four months writing the original script. We gave it the same care Tolstoi gave 'Anna Kerenina.’ “Get Smart” isn't as massive a work as 'Anna Kerenina,’ but," grins Mel, "it's funnier."
Of all the new fall shows, "Get Smart" is the most-talked about in Hollywood TV circles these days. A cinch hit is the verdict.
Mel Brooks isn't worried about this, either. "Living up to a preseason prediction can be dangerous," he admits, "but I'm not worried. I'm fat. I've got bread for a year, at least."

Somewhat remarkably, Brooks came back to television earlier this year 96 when a sequel to his 1981 “History of the World, Part I” aired on Hulu. Brooks is 97 years old. Why work so late in life, especially considering all the honours showered on him. He told Variety he’s happy “every once in a while, hearing people laugh.”

Perhaps that’ll be on his tombstone. He has only 1,903 years to go.