Happy Birthday Mr Brooks, love from Maureen, Leslie, Nigel and…..

To Mel, love from Maureen Lipman

A group of actors and singers, including myself, Alan Corduner, Andy Nyman, Toni Kanal and Rob Rinder closed the Jewish Book Festival this year with an appreciation of you – the great Mel Brooks. I can only modestly tell you that it was a bit of a triumph. In the wake of anti Semitism and how best to survive it, our show was a tonic. You are a tonic.

Your memoir is as riotous as your films – but also reveals that you don’t have a bad word to say about anyone and shows the depth of your love for your late wife, the stunning and brilliant Anne Bancroft. I loved her words ‘when I hear his key in the door I know the party is going to start.’  Our tribute covered your early Jewish life in Brooklyn, your pestering the great comedian Sid Caesar in the Borsht Belt and later on his Show of Shows. We read the 2000 Year old Man – which most of us knew by heart,  and showed scenes from your films such as Young Frankenstein and the serious work of Brooksfilms, including The Elephant Man.

I met you on the Michael Aspel show where we swapped memories of our Jewish mothers. You were charming, friendly and very funny. I met you again years later at the first night of The Producers in London, with Anne who was then unwell.  I carry a strong visual memory of you  leaning on the door of the bathroom, waiting for her to emerge. You were carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders. At now at 100, you have done it all and still active and healthy and with your son Max at your  side.  As you say in the 2000 Year Old Man, the secret of longevity is:
“Never run for a bus, there’ll always be another, never touch fried food and eat a nectarine a day – half a peach, half a plum – even a rotten one is good.’’

To Mel, love from Lesley Joseph

There are certain people in entertainment who feel larger than life long before you meet them. You were one of those people for me. So when I was cast as Frau Blücher in Young Frankenstein before meeting you, I could barely believe it. I’d done a workshop and taped scenes and songs, which were sent to you in America. I knew there were lots of other actresses being considered and assumed that unless you met me personally, I wouldn’t get the role. But you had seen the tape and that was enough.

Our first meeting at the Savoy was complete chaos. I was so nervous I’d had two champagne cocktails before you arrived, so when you walked in and asked me what I wanted to drink, I said: “Another champagne cocktail,” to which you said: “Oh, you’re killing me. They’re too expensive.” I told you not to worry, I’d pay for it myself, and you said: “The one thing I’ve got is money.”

I loved how collaborative you were to work with. There was no ego. You were so outrageously funny and incredibly kind to performers. You made people feel brave. And for somebody who had already changed comedy forever, that generosity felt even greater than the legend of you.

For Mel, love from Nigel Planer

From an (almost) 100-year-old man (me), to the 2000 Year Old Man (you) – if the good Lord had meant men to live this long he wouldn’t have given them life insurance.

To Mel, love…. Leo Pearlman 

There were only ever three options in our house, the Marx Brothers, Danny Kaye, or, most often, Mel Brooks.

My dad and my grandpa treated them less like entertainment and more like curriculum. This was my education. While other 10yr olds were watching TOPTPs, I was going into school quoting Blazing Saddles and Young Frankenstein. Complaints would come home; the response was unwavering: perhaps you should educate yourself before trying to limit a boy’s cultural expression.

And that’s what it was, expression. Because Mel Brooks, you weren’t just funny, you were the culmination of something. A line that began with four Jewish vaudeville brothers, sharpened and reimagined by Danny Kaye, and then distilled into something fearless, irreverent, and unmistakably ours. You took everything that came before and turned it into comedy with teeth, with defiance, with joy. To me, you aren’t just a filmmaker, but Jewish comedy incarnate. A prophet of one of our oldest instincts, to laugh, even when the world gives you every reason not to.

So thank you to my dad, and to my grandpa, for that education, for knowing that this was more than just laughter. But most of all, thank you Mel. You have done more for the Jewish people than a thousand politicians ever could. That education stayed with me and now it’s mine to pass on. Because handing you down to my kids isn’t nostalgia, it’s continuity. It’s how we keep Jewish joy alive and right now, that feels more important than ever.

To Mel, love from Zach Margs

My grandfather Gerry was a comedian and was huge fan of yours. He was the one who first showed me your work and that’s how my love of comedy started. Your ability to be bold, silly and fearless with humour has always stayed with me. You’re a huge legend – happy 100th!

To Mel, love from Matt Lucas 

Happy 100th Mel. You have one of the finest comic minds in the world. Your work is so audacious and absurd and timeless.

To Mel, Love from Steve Furst

At your zenith you were like a comedy Beatles; first releasing The Producers, then Blazing Saddles, Young Frankenstein, Silent Movie, High Anxiety and History of the World, Part I within
13 years of each other. As a writer and director, that is an astonishing feat, with all of those films exerting a huge influence on generations of comedians and creatives. There isn’t anyone else who comes close to you.

To Mel, love from Bennett Arron 

It’s so difficult to choose my favourite moments of yours. There are so many, but three stay with me – and I’ll tell you two as they made me want to pursue a career in comedy. In Blazing Saddles, you appeared as the Yiddish-speaking Native American chief declaring:
“Nayn, nayn, zeyt nisht meshugge”  and “Abi gezunt.” And in History of the World, Part I, it was when Moses returns from Mount Sinai announcing: “The Lord has given unto you these 15…” before dropping a tablet and correcting himself: “Ten Commandments.” Happy 100th, genius.