Remembering Gene Wilder (2023)

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Remembering Gene Wilder (2023)

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Come with me and you'll be

in a world

of pure imagination

He was a combination

of innocence and danger.

- Champagne?

- You didn't know

what Gene Wilder was gonna do.

He was an actor

who had an ability

to be funny.

Hello!

He's naive, he's innocent.

Oops.

He's sweet, simple, and honest.

But when he got excited,

he was a volcano.

Life!

He had

a unique ability to find humor.

I never thought

it could be like this.

In anything.

I'm wet!

You'll never find

another Gene Wilder.

I didn't think Jerry Silberman

had the right ring to it.

I wanted to be Wilder.

Suppose you're walking

out of the Plaza Hotel

in New York City

on a warm spring day.

You want to go directly across

the street to Fifth Avenue,

but the Plaza fountain

is directly in your path.

You can get to Fifth Avenue

by walking around the fountain

on the path to your left,

or by taking

the path to your right.

I believe that

whichever choice you make

could change your life.

I'm sure everyone has had

these mysterious

brushes with irony,

perhaps referring to them

years later as "almost fate."

January, 1963.

Jerome Robbins

was going to direct

Bertolt Brecht's play

Mother Courage on Broadway

with Anne Bancroft as the star.

Fate must be working its magic,

because if he hadn't

miscast me in Mother Courage,

I wouldn't have met

Anne Bancroft.

If I hadn't met Anne Bancroft,

I wouldn't have met Mel Brooks.

If I hadn't met Mel Brooks,

I would probably be a patient

in some

neuropsychiatric hospital

looking through the bars

of a physical therapy window

as I made wallets.

We opened previews

at the Martin Beck Theatre

to a packed house.

Anne Bancroft's boyfriend

came to pick her up

each night after the show.

The boyfriend's name

was Mel Brooks.

We were heavily engaged

and heavily in love.

She kept telling me

about this weird, strange,

very talented guy in the cast

who had innocence,

blessed with innocence,

and she knew that I was

writing a rough draft of...

Then it was called

Springtime for Hitler.

Later I changed it

to The Producers.

And she knew that I had

this character, Leo Bloom,

and she said, "I think

he's Leo Bloom on the hoof,

he's right there, he's

He's naive, he's innocent."

So I saw the show,

and I kept watching it

every night,

and I agreed

with her and I said,

"That's my Leo Bloom."

I want to meet him.

I met him backstage

at the Martin Beck Theatre.

When I met

Mel for the first time,

he was wearing

a black pea jacket,

it was the kind made famous

by the Merchant Marines.

So he said, "That's a pea coat."

And I... you know, and

The Borscht Belt comic

in me said,

"No, no, that's too vulgar.

I call it a urine coat."

And he really grabbed his belly

and really laughed.

I immediately

fell in love with him.

You get a terrific

real laugh out of somebody.

And Gene was a great laugher.

Despite Anne's

Academy Award that year

for The Miracle Worker,

Mother Courage closed

after three months.

Mel asked if I would like

to spend a weekend

with him and Anne

on Fire Island.

And I invited him out

to our house

on the beach for a weekend.

After dinner, Mel

asked Anne and me to sit down,

and then he began reading

the first three scenes

of Springtime for Hitler

almost verbatim as they

eventually appeared on screen.

Gee, you could

make more money

with a flop

than he could with a hit.

You keep saying that,

but you don't tell me how?

How can a producer make

more money with a flop

than he could with a hit?

I read 37 pages,

that's all I had,

introducing Leo Bloom fully.

But you still look angry.

How's this?

Good.

That's good.

That's very nice.

I thought I saw

a little tear run down his...

"And you want me to play that?"

I said, "Yes, I want you to play

that simple,

beautiful, innocent,

good-natured accountant."

I loved it.

I said yes.

I wondered, "How can a few words

change your life?"

You originally

were Jerry Silberman.

Yes, and I think there's...

Somewhere inside

he's still there lurking around.

I used to be Jerry Silberman

from Milwaukee.

When I was eight years old,

my mother had

her first heart attack.

After my father brought her

home from the hospital,

her heart specialist came

to see how she was doing.

He grabbed my right arm

and whispered in my ear,

"Don't ever argue

with your mother.

You might k*ll her.

Try to make her laugh."

If he hadn't said

those two sentences,

I might have gone

into used car salesman

or something like that.

Or a concert violinist

or perhaps a painter.

Well,

Aunt Jeanne was always ill,

and Jerry just adored her.

He did try to be funny,

he tried to amuse her,

he tried to do things

to make her laugh.

I had thought

often about being a comedian.

Mostly because I had seen

Danny Kaye in Up in Arms.

Danny Kaye was,

I think, very special to him.

And then

Jerry Lewis on television.

Let's keep it quiet, buddy.

And then for me

the king of them all,

was Sid Caesar

on Your Show of Shows.

I did Jewish accents

and German accents.

And I did make my mother laugh.

Every once in a while,

if I was

a little too successful,

she'd run into

the bathroom squealing,

"Oh, Jerry, now look

what you've made me do!"

She had

a wonderful sense of humor.

I think Gene probably got

some of it from her.

And then

when I started acting

she always thought

that I was good,

and that gave me

the confidence to go on.

Sorry, sir.

I think he loved

the stage best of all.

He just belonged there.

I was asked

to take over Alan Arkin's role

in Luv on Broadway.

It had now been three years

since I'd heard from Mel Brooks.

I'd given up hopes

of being Leo Bloom

in Springtime for Hitler.

I was taking off

my makeup one day

when someone knocked

on my dressing room door.

I opened the door

and there was Mel.

Mel said, "You don't think

I forgot, do you?"

Then he introduced me

to the tall gentleman with him,

Sidney Glazier,

who was going to produce

Springtime for Hitler.

I met Sidney Glazier,

I gave him my script.

He said, "I don't wanna read it.

Read it to me."

And I began reading,

and he was eating

a big tuna fish sandwich

and a huge cup of coffee.

And he'd sip the coffee,

and he'd eat,

and he'd listen.

And every once

in a while he'd smile.

Once in a while

he'd laugh a little bit.

And when I got

to the blue blanket scene...

My blanket, my blue blanket,

give me my blue blanket!

He spit the coffee

all over the office

and he said,

"We gotta make this movie."

Mel started

talking as if we were

just continuing

a conversation from yesterday.

"Now, listen,

you know I love you,

but Zero Mostel

is gonna play Bialystock,

and I can't just

spring you on him

because he's got approval

of anyone who plays Leo.

So you gotta do

a reading with him

just so he can see

for himself how good you are.

The morning of the reading,

I was very nervous.

If I don't get this part,

I'll just be a good featured,

maybe supporting actor

for the rest of my life.

Mel opened the door

and gave me a hug.

I could see Zero Mostel

in the background.

And then Mel pulled me

into the office.

This huge round fantasy of a man

came waltzing towards me.

My heart was pounding so loud

I thought he'd hear it.

Zero grabbed Gene,

bent him over,

and kissed him

on the lips fully.

And then turned to me

and said, "This is my Bloom."

All nervousness floated away.

I think Zero did it

for that reason.

I gave a good reading

and was cast

in Springtime for Hitler.

Take one!

Filming on Springtime for Hitler

was to begin in May,

but in the meantime,

I was offered a small part

in a movie called

Bonnie and Clyde

starring Warren Beatty

and directed by Arthur Penn.

The company was

already filming in Texas.

I arrived in Dallas

and I went to the set.

Arthur Penn introduced me

to the pretty young woman

who would be playing my fiance.

Her name was Evans Evans.

We said hello and shook hands.

The camera started rolling.

The first scene started

with Evans and me

kissing on her porch.

A little strange

to start kissing someone

you just met

two minutes earlier,

but it was fun.

Say, isn't that

your car, Eugene?

That's my car.

Arthur said, "Cut. Very good."

And that was my introduction

to movie acting.

Later, I'm riding

in the back of a car

with the Barrow g*ng.

Maybe y'all ought a

join up with us?

Oh, boy.

It sure would be a surprise

to hear that back home.

Hey, what do you do anyhow?

I'm an undertaker.

Get them out of here.

When filming was over,

Arthur Penn told me that

he had never envisioned

the part being played

the way I did it.

He never imagined it

being funny.

Zero Mostel had a car

and driver assigned to him

when filming for

Springtime for Hitler began.

He would pick me up each morning

in that we could travel

to work together.

It was

a marriage made in heaven.

They were just made

for each other.

I'm an honest man,

you don't understand.

No, Bloom, you don't understand!

This is fate, this is destiny,

this is kismet!

There's no avoiding it!

It was the first

movie I ever directed.

- A toast.

- It was like

getting into a big canoe

and gliding down the river.

That's how easy

they made it for me.

I'm happy!

And they did...

Sometimes they ad-libbed stuff

that was a lot better

than stuff I had written.

But I was in heaven.

Joe Levine,

the man who put up

half the budget

and was going

to distribute the film

went to

a screening room with Mel

and saw the first

11 minutes of the dailies.

Joe Levine saw the dailies

on the third day

with Bialystock and Bloom,

the one in the hallway

where he's frightened

and where he's just superb.

Speak to me, speak!

- Why don't you speak?

- I'm scared, can't talk.

He said,

"He's cute, he has curly hair,

but I need a leading man.

He's... he's a... a bit of a wimp.

I'll give you another $10,000.

Get somebody who looks

like a leading man."

I said, "I don't want

a leading man!

I want the opposite

of a leading man.

I want somebody

who's afraid of the world,

who retreats instead

of att*cks like Bialystock."

He said, "Get another guy

to play Leo Bloom."

I said, and this is

the first time I said it,

and at every single movie

I said to the head

of the studio,

"Yeah, you're right,

you got it."

And never, ever did

what they wanted me to do.

I started with Joe Levine.

Gene Wilder is out!

You'll see.

Next week

I'll have somebody else.

He left

the screening room happy.

We were about to rehearse

my big hysterical scene.

I was anxious to see how Zero

and I would play it together.

Mel never said "action"

like every other director.

Mel said, "Go."

Oh

And I gave it my all.

You miserable, cowardly,

wretched little caterpillar.

You would normally be

a little afraid of Bialystock,

who was a force,

who's a living force.

He was just a ton of flesh,

a crescendo of humanity.

glory!

You're gonna jump on me.

Huh?

You're gonna jump on me,

I know you're gonna jump on me!

This giant hulk of a man

is now making

all these strange gestures

and might possibly pounce on me.

Please don't jump on me!

I'm not gonna jump!

Will you get a hold of yourself?

Don't touch me, don't touch me!

He could scare you.

And, uh, he scared Gene,

and Gene was timid.

I think what connects Leo Bloom

to me and to the audience

is fear.

I'm hysterical!

Just the fear

that he goes

through life carrying.

What comes across

is this intense humanity, right,

this authenticity

that Gene brings out

of Leo Bloom.

When the scene was over,

the whole crew

laughed and applauded.

I was worn out

and a little hoarse,

but the scene went very well.

Joe Levine,

who said I had to take out Gene,

we kept him away from

the dailies so he never knew

that Gene would come in

every day and work it.

Finally, I said,

"He's done half the picture.

It would cost us too much money

to replace him."

"Yeah, yeah, all right."

We were at

the Lincoln Center fountain

on the last day of filming,

waiting for the sun to go down.

I said to the guy

running the fountain at...

At Lincoln Center, I said,

I said, "It goes up

to 12 or 15 feet.

Can you get it up to 20?"

He says,

"I can get it up to 50."

I said, "Go for broke."

When the sun finally went down,

the cameras started rolling.

I'll do it!

And the fountain was turned on,

in the film and in my life.

And we finished the movie

right on that... on that night.

That was a miraculous moment.

I was sad

that the film was ending,

of course, but also very happy.

And I knew that I'd been

part of a unique film,

working with

the two most unusual people

I had ever met.

The outrageousness,

the complete audacity

of Zero and Mel

remains with me.

The movie that

really launched you, as it were,

that was a character

that held in the anger, too,

and that suddenly

would burst out into manic...

- expl*si*n.

- Was that you?

Yes, that was me.

It was a part of me.

When my mother was suffering,

the doctor set off

something terrible in me,

because "don't ever argue

with your mother"

inhibited me

from getting angry with anyone

and holding it all in,

and that's poison.

No child should ever be told,

"Don't argue with your mother,

you might k*ll her."

That is an unbelievably

heavy burden to carry.

I felt a rage

that I didn't

or couldn't express,

except through acting.

He started acting

in high school plays.

And then Gene was with

the Milwaukee Players.

He was always the lead.

We'd go to rehearsals together.

And he just came and got me so...

Take me with him.

Being on stage was a thing

that saved me from myself.

When I was in a play,

I was safe.

I was drafted into the Army

on September 10th, 1956.

At the end of basic training,

I was assigned

to the medical corps

at the neuropsychiatric hospital

in Phoenixville, Pennsylvania.

Patients were all going

through psychotic phases.

I saw their behavior.

I thought that would be

the closest to acting

that would help me later on.

Rowers, keep on rowing!

I wasn't wrong.

And they're

certainly not showing

any signs that they are slowing!

It's really tough for me to pick

my favorite Gene Wilder film

because so many of them

were so great.

But I have to say that

Willy Wonka's my favorite

because what Gene

was able to do on camera.

That was so attractive.

That was so charismatic

and becoming.

I'm so glad you could come.

This is going to be

such an exciting day.

I hope you enjoy it.

I think you will.

And now would you please

show me your golden tickets?

- Charlie Bucket.

- Well, well, Charlie Bucket.

I read all about you

in the papers.

I'm so happy for you.

I was in fourth grade

in Shaker Heights, Ohio,

and the Cleveland Playhouse

has a very active

children's theater.

It's got a nice rsum.

Joel Grey came from

the Cleveland Playhouse.

Margaret Hamilton,

Wicked Witch of the West.

It was a good place to learn,

good place to start for me.

When they were

casting Willy Wonka,

that was one of the theaters

that they called.

So my name was given to them.

They had me do a screen test.

I was nobody.

I didn't have a large rsum.

This was just like a lark.

It was fun.

If I didn't get the part,

there was... there weren't

any hard feelings, you know?

Months later,

Mel Stuart, the director,

finally called and talked

to my mother and said,

"Hey, you got the role."

I'm gonna be Charlie.

"And you need to be

in Munich in like 10 days."

Casting was very important

in the...

But above all,

the casting of Wonka.

One day I remember we were at

the Plaza Hotel in New York,

we were casting there.

Gene Wilder walks in.

And I looked at him and I said,

"Here's just a line.

Would you read just a line

for us from the book?"

And he reads it.

And he says, "Okay."

I said, "Okay."

And he starts to walk out.

And I went to the producer,

Dave Wolper, and I said,

"No matter what happens,

he is Willy Wonka."

I wasn't sure if

I wanted to play Willy Wonka.

The script was good,

but there was something

that was bothering me.

Mel Stuart asked me,

"What's bothering you?"

It was my entrance walk.

I think in the script

it was written as this

big, energetic entrance.

But he wanted to come out

sort of hobbling with a cane,

kind of hunched over.

Then Willy Wonka's

cane gets stuck in a brick.

And when Gene

came out and he's hobbling,

and that's not what you expect,

and then he falls

and does a somersault.

That caught everybody

off... off guard.

That was Gene's idea,

and I just thought

it was so brilliant

because it was really important

from the very first time

that you met him,

you never know, is this guy,

you know, for real,

or is he full of baloney?

Right from the get-go,

that was how

he was setting himself up

for us and for the audience.

You could tell that

this was gonna be somebody

that was gonna be fun

to work with.

Right away

I think we hit it off.

Gene was a father figure

and my mentor.

He was one of those people,

like when you have

a really good teacher,

you don't want to let them down.

He wasn't treating me

like a kid.

I was being treated

like his costar.

Ladies and gentlemen.

Boys and girls.

The Chocolate Room.

Our first introduction

to the Chocolate Room

was in fact

the first time

that we had ever seen it.

And Mel wanted

our initial reaction.

That wow factor.

And it was a big room, big set.

Hold your breath.

Make a wish.

Count to three.

Come with me and you'll be

in a world

of pure imagination

Everything

is not what you think.

- And you'll see

- When you watched

Willy Wonka,

and particularly with Gene.

He was always doing

something unexpected,

even if it was going down

three steps, coming back two.

Why didn't you just

go down the step?

No, no, no, no.

For him to treat those lyrics

and that vocal performance

and that acting performance

with such care and specificity,

it was almost like

the way a wise person

would speak to you

on top of a mountaintop.

It's not always what you expect,

but you leave feeling

a lot more enlightened

than you did when you got there.

We are the music makers

and we are the dreamers

of the dreams.

And that was Gene's great gift.

The guy that built that set,

Harper Goff,

was a brilliant designer.

He had built

the most beautiful office

for Mr. Wonka

for the end of the film.

Charlie's gonna say goodbye.

I said, "No, Wonka's berserk."

I said, "I want you to cut

every piece of furniture

in half.

I want the desks in half,

I want the vault in half,

I want the piece of paper

he reads in half.

You've gotta keep the madness

up to the last minute.

Mr. Wonka.

I am extraordinarily busy, sir.

I just wanted to ask

about the chocolate.

It was unrehearsed.

Gene knew what he was gonna do,

but we didn't know

what he was gonna do.

The lifetime supply

of chocolate for Charlie.

When does he get it?

- He doesn't.

- Why not?

Because he broke the rules.

What rules?

We didn't see any rules,

did we, Charlie?

And they didn't know

what I was gonna do.

But I really let 'em have it.

Wrong, sir, wrong.

Well, I knew that he was gonna

get a little upset with us,

but I didn't know

he was gonna get that upset,

you know, with us.

It's all there, black and white,

clear as crystal!

You stole Fizzy Lifting Drinks!

You bumped into the ceiling,

which now has to be

washed and sterilized,

so you get nothing!

You lose!

Good day, sir!

He wasn't gonna tell you

what he was gonna do.

And so your expression,

your reaction

was a genuine reaction.

Charlie.

My boy.

In retrospect,

Gene made it quite easy for me.

That's what good actors do.

They help

their partners on stage.

This is

a very contemplative artist.

The stars aligned,

because that kind of artistry

is... is super rare.

One of

the best reviews of Willy Wonka

comes from probably

the greatest film critic

of his generation, Roger Ebert,

who says that Willy Wonka

and the Chocolate Factory

is probably

the best film of its sort

since The Wizard of Oz.

"It is everything

that family movies

usually claim to be, but aren't:

Delightful, funny,

scary, exciting,

and most of all,

a genuine work of imagination."

I was asked

to do publicity in Chicago

for the release of Willy Wonka.

The next day, I got

a call from Woody Allen.

"I want to do a remake

of Sister Carrie," he said.

I love you so much.

"But instead of a woman

in Jennifer Jones' part,

I want to use a sheep."

I knew before reading

the script why he wanted me.

An actor who could believably

fall in love with a sheep

and play it straight.

When I left for Los Angeles

to do Woody's film

I found out that Willy Wonka

had failed at the box office.

I was told

that many mothers thought

the lessons in the movie

were too cruel

for children to understand.

I was leaving for California

to do Woody's film

in hopes

of resurrecting my career.

During all of the filming

of Everything You Always

Wanted to Know About Sex,

Woody said, "If you don't

like any of these lines,

just change them to what

you'd like to say."

Hello, Daisy.

She's so

It seemed

an extraordinary thing to say.

Woody's great confidence

was not that he knew

he'd chosen the right actor,

but that the event

he had written

was more important

than the particular words

the actor used to bring

that event to life.

Mr. Milos, I, uh

I'd like to see

the two of you again,

but right now, you know,

my office is jammed full.

Oh, I knew you could help.

I knew... thank you, Doctor.

As a matter of fact, uh,

if I could see Daisy alone,

maybe, you know

Anything, anything.

You know, Gene was able

to do things in comedy

that are dangerous to do,

because he went often

for such an extreme

characterization

or such an extreme situation,

digging down into yourself

to find this absurd reality.

Darling.

I know this must all seem

very strange to you.

You from the hills of Armenia

and me from Jackson Heights.

And yet I think it could work

If we gave it a chance.

You could have substituted

the most glamorous

female movie star

for the sheep the way

Gene treated the sheep.

I don't think I've ever known

such peace and happiness

in my life.

There's this ability

to be simple and honest

Is it my imagination

or do you really smell

from lamb chops?

In a situation which is

extraordinary and absurd.

Defendant did commit

an adulterous act with a sheep.

It's most distasteful

in view of the fact

that the sheep

was under 18 years old.

The memory of

Everything You Always

Wanted to Know About Sex

was so happy

that it was making me sad,

wondering if I would

ever be asked

to work on

something wonderful again.

In California, Mel Brooks

was doing preproduction

on a film called Black Bart.

The title was later changed

to Blazing Saddles.

It was a Western

poking fun at Westerns.

Has anybody got a dime?

My biggest problem

was finding the Waco Kid.

The Waco Kid is the sidekick

to the Black sheriff.

An alcoholic that's struggling

to stay alive in the world.

Then I saw a movie

with Gig Young,

They sh**t Horses, Don't They?

But I sure as hell

can spot a loser.

A wonderful actor.

And I found out

that in real life

he was a bit of an alcoholic.

His agent said, "No, no,

he's been on the wagon

for two years.

Not to worry."

But life has taught me

"not to worry" means worry!

Anyway, we start sh**ting.

We're in the jail.

The Waco Kid is upside down.

Are we awake?

There's Cleavon Little

upside down from

the Waco Kid's POV,

point of view.

And Gig Young, he's struggling.

"Are we Bla... are we Bla..."

He never finished

the word Black.

And ended it

with a geyser of green vomit

that shot across the jail cell

and got the crew

and everybody drenched.

So we called for an ambulance

and got him

to the hospital in Burbank.

The doctor who was

treating him said,

"He's suffering from the DTs,"

or what's that,

delirium tremens.

It's a thing alcoholics get.

So he hadn't stopped drinking.

I said, "Well, can he work?"

And he said, "Yeah,

in about three or four months."

This is Friday,

I've got a sh**t Monday.

There!

It came to me right then

and there, Gene Wilder.

He'll save me.

He saved me on The Producers.

He will save me.

And I called him and I said,

and I was crying

I said, "Gene, I need you!

I need you! Come here!

Come. Save me."

He called me

from the phone on stage.

He said,

"Can you come tomorrow?"

I said, "I'm supposed

to go to London to do, uh,

The Little Prince

with Stanley Donen directing."

"Beg off."

The next day I was on a plane,

and the next day I was hanging

upside down in a jail cell.

Are we awake?

We are not sure.

Are we Black?

You know, it's just

so great, his reading.

And I said,

"That's the Waco Kid."

Send a wire to the main office

and tell 'em that I said...

Ow!

Send wire, main office.

Tell them I said, "Ow." Gotcha.

I was one of the bad guys,

but I was the funniest one

of the bad guys, too.

And I played him

all through the thing,

maybe not quite

all there up here.

We come riding up in the picture

and meet the Waco Kid

and the sheriff.

And Mr. Taggart says,

"We're gonna sh**t you guys."

All right, boys.

On a count of three.

I wouldn't do that

if I were you.

We have our g*ns drawn

and we're gonna sh**t

all the good guys.

Gene, being the quick draw

that he was,

he's kind of like,

"I got something here

that you don't know I've got."

He puts his g*ns back

and you can see the smoke

coming out

of his holsters there.

So I'll remember Gene

not just by his acting ability,

which was wonderful

but because he was so good

to me and so supportive.

Hurray!

Hurray! Hurray!

Even though

it was a wild comedy

in Blazing Saddles

racial prejudice

is the engine

that really drives the film

and helps to make it work.

Good mornin', ma'am.

Cleavon Little,

he sees a little old lady.

a lovely morning?

Trying to make friends

with the citizens of Rock Ridge,

and she says,

"Up yours, n-word."

The sheriff shakes his head

and we can see tears.

And Gene read

these lines so beautifully.

What did you expect?

"Welcome, sonny,

make yourself at home"?

"Marry my daughter"?

You gotta remember that

these are just simple farmers.

These are people of the land.

The common clay of the new West.

You know

Morons.

And... and that was one

of the funniest, you know,

laughs in the whole picture,

and nobody in the world

could have handled it

half as well as Gene Wilder.

And you can tell

from the scene

and listening to him,

he's speaking from the heart.

There is this

authenticity to the Waco Kid

that I don't think someone

like John Wayne or Gig Young

would have brought,

because instantly

it would have registered,

"Oh, this is a veteran

Western character actor

doing a parody

of a Western character actor."

Gene Wilder played the Waco Kid

as crazy and nutty

but entirely believable.

Where are you headed, cowboy?

Nowhere special.

Nowhere special.

I always wanted to go there.

What can I tell ya?

He did a magnificent job

all through the picture.

I think 1974's

probably the perfect year

for Blazing Saddles.

Blaxploitation films

at their height.

Having a smart

and thoughtful Western parody

that really takes a hard look

at America's racism,

that is genius.

I met Gene one day

when I was buying clothes

in Beverly Hills.

I introduced myself.

I said, "Gene,

you know, I'm Mike Medavoy.

I'm an agent

and I'd like to represent you."

And I said, "The truth is,

I look at your career,

you ought a be writing

and probably directing too."

Because of that accidental bump

on the street corner,

Mike Medavoy became

my California agent.

And I signed Gene.

I rented

a small house on the bay

in Westhampton Beach, New York.

After lunch one afternoon,

I walked up to my bedroom

with a yellow legal pad

and a blue felt pen.

At the top of the page, I wrote,

"Young Frankenstein."

"The Birth of a Monster."

And then wrote two pages

of what might happen to me

if I were the great-grandson

of Beaufort von Frankenstein

and was called to Transylvania

because I had just inherited

the Frankenstein estate.

That night I watched a summer

replacement television show

called The Marty Feldman

Comedy Machine.

Would you, uh, walk this way?

After seeing it,

I said, "Who is that

funny man on television?"

A week later, I received a call

from my California agent,

Mike Medavoy.

I was sitting in my office

and Marty Feldman

and his wife were there

to try to get me

to represent him.

And then Peter Boyle

walked into the office.

And so I introduced all of them.

And I decided, "You know what?

I have a feeling that this

would be a really good group

to put together with Gene."

So I called Gene up

on the phone.

And I said, "Gene, do you have

anything that you can do

with Marty Feldman

and Peter Boyle?"

I said, "How did you happen

to come up with that?"

He said, "'Cause I represent

you and Marty and Peter."

And, uh

As it happens,

I think I do have something.

I want to work on it

for another day.

I'll send it to you.

That night, inspired by

having just seen

Marty Feldman on television,

I wrote a scene that takes

place at Transylvania Station

where Igor and Frederick

meet for the first time

almost verbatim

the way it was later filmed.

Dr. Frankenstein?

Frankenstein.

You're putting me on.

I called Mel Brooks and told him

my little Frankenstein scenario.

"Cute," he said,

"that's cute."

"What's your dream for this?"

He said, "I want you to write it

with me and direct it.

And not be in it."

And I said, "Okay, I'll do it."

The next morning,

I would start writing.

Mel would come over

after dinner each evening

and look at the pages.

When we thought

we had a good script,

we met Mike Gruskoff,

a wonderful guy

and a wonderful producer.

And he said, "I've had

a discussion already

with Columbia Pictures."

"Yeah? Yeah?"

Gene, Mel, and I,

we had a meeting at Columbia.

I said, "We really like

the script."

We thought we had

something good, you know?

We definitely thought

we had something good.

We shook hands.

We're ready, we're ready

to make Young Frankenstein

for Columbia Pictures.

As we leave the... the meeting,

I get to the door,

before I shut it, I say,

"Oh, by the way"

"in the James Whale

1931 Universal tradition,

we are making it

in black and white."

Closed the door, left.

A thundering herd

of Jewish executives

run after us

down the hall, saying,

"No, no, it's a deal-breaker."

And as one,

Gruskoff, and Gene,

and Mel shouted back,

"Then break it."

Nobody wanted to do

a black and white movie.

Mike Gruskoff actually was

very friendly with Alan Ladd,

and took it to Fox.

Alan Ladd, Jr.

Was one of my close friends.

He had come to Fox.

Three days later, we had a deal.

If you're gonna

make a parody tribute film

of James Whale's Frankenstein,

you're gonna have to do that

in black and white

if you're gonna do it right.

Mel Brooks and Gene Wilder

understood that.

Columbia executives,

to their eternal regret,

did not.

Making Young Frankenstein

was the happiest

I'd ever been on a film.

Madeline Kahn, Peter Boyle,

Marty Feldman, Teri Garr,

Cloris Leachman, Kenny Mars,

and Mel directing.

It was like taking a small

breath of heaven each day.

Creatively,

I let them do their thing.

Gene and Mel take it

to the next step.

They go beyond.

They have balls,

that's what they have.

What knockers!

Oh, thank you, Doctor.

Mel and Gene,

they're not afraid to go big.

They're not afraid of failure.

They'll take a chance.

The only thing that concerns me

is the preservation of life!

I never had

to give Gene any direction.

And I didn't have to, really,

'cause he was such a good actor.

We shall ascend

into the heavens.

We shall mock the earthquake.

We had a code, blue and orange.

When I said, "Gene, blue,"

meant, "Bring it up."

Give me more intensity,

more excitement.

When I said, "Orange,"

I want you to play over the top.

I'd say, "Gene, I need orange

here at the end of this."

"Got it."

Life, do you hear me?

Give my creation life!

He could

hit a high note

easily as high

as Maria Callas.

He... he could go there.

He was amazing.

I had favorite moments of him,

as I do of most actors.

I admire so much the big moments

when he still was believable.

It's alive!

And then there was

a quiet moment

in Young Frankenstein

when it was just as ludicrous,

but it was quiet and sincere.

He was questioning Igor

like a little boy.

Would you mind telling me

Whose brain I did put in?

And you won't be angry?

I will not be angry.

Abby someone.

Abby someone?

Abby who?

Abby Normal.

"Abby Normal."

I'm almost sure

that was the name.

Are you saying

that I put an abnormal brain

into a seven-and-a-half-

foot long,

54-inch-wide

gorilla?

He was so real about it

that it was just as absurd

as the big, showy moment,

but even more hilarious,

because he meant it,

he really meant it.

We shall be friends.

It was Gene Wilder's idea.

He says, "Well, maybe

I can get Gene Hackman

to play the blind guy."

Because they were pals.

And he got Hackman,

who was so great.

Are you ready for your soup?

Oh, my friend, my friend.

You don't know how long

I've waited for the pleasure

of another human being.

And sometimes,

in our preoccupation

And he was funny,

he was very funny, you know?

Oof!

We never

improvised dialogue on the set.

Would you like to have

a roll in the hay?

Physical actions, yes,

but not dialogue.

Roll, roll,

roll in the hay

Marker.

We were filming the scene

of Madeline Kahn's arrival

at the Frankenstein castle.

Action!

She was wearing a fox stole

and a big turban on her head,

and then Marty,

in one of his

impulsive inspirations,

took a huge bite out

of the tail of the fox fur

that Madeline was wearing

around her neck.

But the tail

came off in his mouth.

Stop that!

And we couldn't not laugh.

May I go in?

Cut!

We all laughed,

and Marty was so funny doing it.

Out of such lunacy,

great comedy is born.

We had to stop

a lot of times to

That music!

Because everybody was laughing.

That quaint

All right!

We had to take breaks.

Follow me, please.

It cost me over $200.

I bought handkerchiefs,

about 150 handkerchiefs

for the crew and everybody.

Now, listen

to me very carefully.

Don't put the candle back.

I said, "When you feel

a laugh coming on"

"shove that handkerchief

in your mouth.

Stifle your laugh."

I think it may have been

the "What hump?"

You know, I don't

mean to embarrass you,

but I'm a rather

brilliant surgeon.

Perhaps I could

help you with that hump?

What hump?

He turned to look at the crew

and I saw a sea

of white handkerchiefs.

I said, "I think

we got a hit here."

In all

the time we spent together,

Mel and I had only one argument.

It was when I showed him

a scene I had written

in which Dr. Frankenstein

and the monster sing and dance

to "Puttin' on the Ritz."

I said, "There's no

'Puttin' on the Ritz, '

we are not gonna do that.

Because we have been

very faithful

to James Whale

and to the horror films

of the '30s.

This makes it silly."

I said, "No, we're not doing it,

that's the end of it."

I was close to rage and tears.

I argued logic

from Dr. Frankenstein's

point of view.

His need to win over

this stuffy audience

of scientists and their wives

that the monster could

be taught to do anything.

And right in mid-sentence,

Mel says,

"Okay, it's in."

"I wanted to see

how hard you'd fight for it."

And I knew if you

fought hard enough,

it was right."

We would start sh**ting,

and Gene put everything

he had into it to prove it.

Come, let's mix where

Rockefellers walk with

And Peter Boyle

was never better.

After that was over, I said,

"Gene, accept my apology.

It's the best thing

in the movie.

It's the reason we made it."

When you think about

great cinematic collaborations...

I mean, whether you're

talking about Tracy and Hepburn

or William Powell and Myrna Loy,

or, uh, Steven Spielberg

and John Williams,

Mel Brooks and Gene Wilder

belong in that class.

They fed off each other

and that pushed them

to the heights

they both achieved.

On the last day of filming,

during our lunch hour,

I was sitting in

the Frankenstein bedroom set,

staring at the fake fireplace.

Mel wandered in and saw me.

"What's the matter?

Why so sad?" he asked.

"I don't want

to leave Transylvania."

When we were in the thick

of editing Young Frankenstein,

Mel turned to me and said,

"If you keep writing,

you're gonna want to direct

just so someone doesn't

screw up what you've written."

Two weeks later,

fate just struck again.

Alan Ladd, Jr. asked me

if I wanted to direct

Sherlock Holmes'

Smarter Brother,

my idea for a romantic comedy

about a brother

of Sherlock Holmes.

Gene said, "There's something

I want to write and direct."

And Gene Wilder went on

to have a very nice career

as a writer-director.

I had a comedy scene

at the beginning

of filming Sherlock

that was one of my favorites.

I'm waiting to see

Lord Redcliff in his study.

There's a tempting

box of chocolates

sitting open on his desk

and melting in the sun,

so I decide to steal

just one tiny piece.

The crew was

holding back laughter,

but all I was trying

to do as an actor

was to act as normally

as I possibly could.

It was the same lesson I'd

learned from Charlie Chaplin

when I saw The Circus.

If the physical thing

you're doing is funny,

you don't have

to act funny while doing it.

Just be real

and it will be funnier.

The acting lesson from this film

seemed so simple,

yet it inspired me

for the rest of my career.

When I was 23,

I was miraculously

nominated for Best Actress

for a movie called

Hester Street.

The phone didn't ring

for a solid year after that.

And the first call

I got about work

was Gene calling about

The World's Greatest Lover.

I had never in my life

done a comedy.

Why would Gene Wilder be calling

for me to be in a comedy?

You get some insight into Gene

that he casts Carol Kane.

This was not a comedy actress.

He had the sense...

He knew people.

I mean, Carol Kane comes off

this Oscar nomination

for a dramatic role,

and he thinks,

"No, funny... she's funny."

And now we know,

now there's 40-plus

years of evidence

that Carol Kane is funny.

But, you know,

Gene recognized it.

It was about

a baker from Milwaukee in 1927

who wants to try out

for a big Hollywood contest

to find the next

Rudolph Valentino.

He takes his wife to Hollywood.

I will win that screen test,

not because I'm

the best actor in the world,

not because I'm

the sexiest man in the world,

not because I'm the most

handsome man in the world,

but because I am unique!

You ought

to be in pictures

You're wonderful to see

You ought to be in pictures

Oh, what a hit

you would be

For someone just beginning

as a director-writer-

producer-star,

Gene was very calm

and confident and happy.

When you write,

direct, and act in a movie,

there are three ways

they can k*ll you.

And if they wanna k*ll you,

they go for all three.

Gene was able to exert

his own artistic vision.

I'm ready!

The World's Greatest Lover

is a big love letter

to movies, Hollywood,

all his idols.

Chaplin.

Busby Berkeley.

We're in the money

Laurel and Hardy

and these classic comedy bits.

The way Gene shot the movie,

extreme close-ups

frequently of the eyes,

to let the eyes do the talking,

as they did

in the silent-movie era.

He manages

to convey hurt and longing

and fear and anger in those eyes

without speaking a line.

Gene Wilder would have been

a great silent actor.

No surprise that

he chose to make a film

that salutes silent Hollywood.

The lighting

and the costumes and the makeup

is so evocative of that time.

That obviously

appealed to Gene a lot.

I love Gene's choice

of acting roles.

It's totally eclectic.

He did what he wanted to do.

What spoke to him,

what he loved,

he just did it.

It was called The Frisco Kid.

A film about

a Polish rabbi

America.

who comes

to America

at the time of the gold rush

Oy!

and becomes

best friends with a bank robber

and is captured by Indians.

Can your god make rain?

He doesn't make rain!

The rabbi

and the chief form a friendship

discussing the Jewish god.

around blindly like

little mice in the darkness,

but He does not make rain!

Of course, sometimes,

just like that,

He'll change His mind.

The Frisco Kid came closer

to what I am in life

than anything else.

We were never

a particularly religious family

when I was growing up

in the sense of prayers

at home or rituals,

other than going

to my grandparents'

for a meal on Passover,

and going to the synagogue

on the High Holidays.

Gene's grandfather

was president

of his old synagogue,

which was an old,

little small Orthodox synagogue

in the old Jewish neighborhood.

We had strong feelings

about Judaism.

I would say Gene was spiritual.

There's my mother in me,

and there's my father in me.

There was a certain innocence

about the way I acted onscreen.

I must have inherited it

from my father.

My father was born in Russia

but came to Milwaukee

with his family when he was 11.

He wasn't dumb,

but he was very innocent.

Dost thou speak English?

Dost thou

speak Eng...

Oy... oy gevalt!

The wonderful

Robert Aldrich was directing,

and Mace Neufeld

was the producer,

but we still had

to find a co-star.

When we started to do the film,

we were gonna use John Wayne.

And he was all excited

about joining the project.

I was so happy,

and one of the executives

got the bright idea

of going out

to Long Beach, California,

where John Wayne lived,

and tried to

knock him down $250,000.

And he said,

"Forget the whole thing."

He was out.

I was asked to look at the work

of an up-and-coming young actor

by the name of Harrison Ford.

I thought Harrison was charming

and might possibly get

somewhere in the business.

What do you call this,

in Jewish?

A... a tuchus.

Well, you keep your eyes

on this too-kas

and don't take 'em off

till I tell ya.

Harrison was super popular,

and everybody was

crazy about him,

but Gene was different.

Gene Wilder was

one of my heroes.

He was smart,

he was funny, he was kind.

He made me feel very special.

I was 14 years old,

and my father said

that I was okay

to actually be in the movie.

So they made me up,

probably inappropriately,

and I was the Jewish Indian.

I remember feeling

very excited but very nervous

to be on the set.

Everybody dance!

So he's teaching the Indians

Jewish dancing.

That's good with the hands.

Watch that lady!

I think that lady's

a Jewish Indian.

Gene had taken peyote,

but he doesn't know that.

Now we do a jump,

a little bit of jump

He is feeling the effects

of the drug.

One, two, three

And he passes out.

And I look at him and I go

So, that's my big role

in the movie.

Now we had

Harrison Ford and Gene Wilder,

and Gene Wilder carried

the comedy in the movie.

Don't wake me in the mornin'.

I'll try to be

as quiet as possible!

One example of Gene's

connection to Judaism

is that Gene and Harrison Ford

are trying to get away

from the bad guys.

What the hell are you doin'?

I don't ride today.

And it's the Sabbath.

You can't ride on the Sabbath.

Gene says, "We have

to wait for the sun to set."

Not yet!

Now!

And as soon as the sun set

- Now!

- Off they go.

Thank God.

Longest damned day of my life.

I'll never be as good in drama

as I am in comedy.

Oy!

But when I'm acting,

I want to be really funny

and part vulnerable.

Hey, we are doing this

to keep warm, aren't we?

Uh-huh.

In that case, you can

put your arms around me.

That's what I like the best.

I'm not a good actor;

I'm a good reactor.

Something happens.

That's why Richard and I

are so good together.

Richard Pryor and I

met in Calgary, Canada,

as we were both

checking in at the hotel.

The next morning,

we did our first short scene

in the film Silver Streak.

There were police cars

and helicopters and g*ns

all around us.

Argh! Shit!

Take it easy, k*ller.

What are you doing here?

When Richard and I

did our first scene,

some magic happened,

what they call chemistry.

I would answer him,

back and forth, back and forth,

and we were on

such a similar wavelength.

No thinking,

just spontaneous reaction.

Who's in charge here?

Would you get down?

That was the start

of our improvisatory

relationship on film.

My dad couldn't read very well.

He was dyslexic a little bit.

So a lot of his education

came from the feel of something.

Richard's way

always has an emotional

rather than intellectual base.

In this regard,

Richard was my teacher.

- What are you doing?

- I'm gettin' bad.

Better get bad, Jack,

'cause if you ain't bad,

you gonna get f*cked.

You're bad,

they don't mess with ya.

Words kept

coming out of my mouth

in response to things

that Richard was saying.

- Get down!

- Hey!

Things that

weren't in the script.

You a little too bad, ain't ya?

My dad knew undeniably

there was a magic between them.

That's right, that's right,

we bad, uh-huh, that's right.

Together, it was like

expl*sive on the screen.

Hi-ya!

I don't know what makes

a great comedy duo.

They both have to be funny,

but they have

to work off each other.

Gene Wilder and Richard Pryor,

they fuel each other.

And their improvs

made them both better.

The director, Sidney Poitier,

wanted the script

rewritten to accommodate

the particular talents

of his two stars.

Then he said,

"I want you both to fly."

Please! He's sick,

he's... he's havin' a fit.

See, he don't have

his tooth pills.

He's got... see?

And we did fly.

Harry.

Harry, for God's sake.

- Argh!

- You're gonna get us in trouble.

They're wild together.

Your crew is laughing.

Harry, here, come here.

They weren't afraid to be silly,

and it comes out genius.

All right, you two.

Up and at 'em!

Argh! I can't feel

nothin' in my leg!

Richard and I

were certainly silly together,

at least on film.

But as close as we were on film,

it didn't carry over

to our private lives.

When the camera

was off, that was it.

And that's kind of

how they were,

and I understand that.

I mean, they were

two polar opposites.

Gene, when you were

doing those movies

with Richard Pryor,

did his drug usage ever

get in the way of the film?

I got to know Richard

and I got to love him,

and he was going

through a difficult period.

But I never talked

to him about that.

Whatever it was

that he was going through,

he quieted it with his

dr*gs and alcohols and women.

It was almost like

self-sabotaging,

you know, to not

show up on time to set.

But when they came together,

a black-and-white duo team,

creating this laughter together,

that, to me,

is what comedy is about.

You can't deny that's magic.

You're doing all right,

you're getting the hang of it.

My next movie project was

a comedy-mystery

called Hanky Panky,

with Sidney Poitier directing.

Lots of female stars

said they would do the movie,

but Sidney cast Gilda Radner.

The day Gilda and I met,

I was in my makeup

and dressed in a tuxedo

when I walked up to her

to say hello.

Stay here, I'll be right back.

Your co-star

in this is Gilda Radner.

Isn't she wonderful?

Why are you smiling?

'Cause you wanna know

what I think of her,

it'd be more

than wonderful, yes.

When Gilda went

to do the movie Hanky Panky,

she was having difficulty

in the marriage that she was in.

So when she told me

that she's becoming

very friendly with Gene Wilder,

very friendly,

I'm going, "All right."

That was a euphemism for,

"I'm gonna end up

with Gene Wilder."

He had a mesmerizing stare.

And those eyes, those blue...

I mean, I could see why

Gilda fell in love with him.

Gilda was like 14-ish

when her dad died.

Gene was one-stop shopping.

He was older,

so there was the dad thing.

He already had his own career.

And she was grateful for it.

Gilda was the most generous

and compassionate

and original person

I had ever met.

It was wonderful

to be with Gilda,

most of the time.

She was so strong-willed

and yet so fragile.

When Gilda met Gene,

she had a world of problems.

She drank too much.

She was a bulimic.

And Gene sent her

to a battery of doctors

to redo her, to fix her,

and rehabilitates her,

to a degree.

We were living in Los Angeles,

having just finished filming

The Woman in Red.

Seeing Gilda looking strong

and healthy and so happy,

I thought, "Maybe things

between us can work."

If I found a restaurant

that was interesting,

I'd always call him

and say, "Let's go here."

And he'd take Gilda,

who loved my wife, Anne,

and Anne loved Gilda,

so it was perfect.

We were best friends,

it was wonderful.

Gilda was different.

She said, "I'm not

a perfect woman

that you've been searching

for all your life.

I'm just little,

imperfect Gilda.

And if that's what you want,

a real love,

I'm your best bet."

We were married

on September 18th, 1984.

She was 38 years old.

Now she wanted a baby.

Desperately, of course.

Just when it stops

before you go away again.

Meanwhile,

I was making a new movie,

Haunted Honeymoon.

It's always much easier

to kiss someone in a movie

that you kiss all the time.

'Cause it's familiar territory!

Gilda found out

that she was pregnant

and was thrilled beyond belief.

She went in for an exam

and found out it was

an ectopic pregnancy,

and it was devastating.

Everything was devastating.

A couple months

after the surgery,

that's when they realized

that she had ovarian cancer.

Gilda grabbed

my face in her hands

and sobbed.

"No more bad news,

no more bad news.

I don't want

any more bad news."

There's something mythological

about somebody going

through all of this,

finding the love of their lives,

and then, God saying, "Ha.

You're not gonna enjoy this."

She was on such a beautiful path

and beautiful life.

Everything that

she ever dreamt of

was happening,

and then, this was like a b*mb

that fell in her lap.

Between her

chemotherapy treatments,

Gilda would come home

and try to lead

as normal a life as possible,

but the first few days

were always exhausting

because she was

so hyped-up from steroids.

I remember, we were out once,

I said, "How you doing?"

And she said,

"I'm doing the best I can,

but, poor Gene.

You have no idea what

I'm putting that guy through."

It was unfortunate he had

to be put to that test,

but he was terrific.

She made herself

very public when she was sick.

She was on the cover

of Life magazine.

She did a thousand interviews.

She went on Letterman

and on a show

I co-created called

It's Garry Shandling's Show.

Gene was very supportive

of her coming on.

When she got cancer,

I never thought

that she would die from it.

I thought she'd lick it.

I was stupid, 'cause

everyone else seemed to know

but I didn't.

She was 43 years old

when she died.

I buried her in front

of a tall white ash tree

three miles from

her home in Connecticut.

I used to worry

all my early life

about being good enough

to please God.

Gilda didn't think

about those things.

She was just naturally good.

I don't want to be

a better person than Gilda.

She was just human,

and that's all I want to be,

just human.

In our bedroom in Connecticut,

for the sake of

my psychological health,

I was rewriting a comedy

for me and Richard Pryor.

It sounds oxymoronic,

but absurdity was

a familiar guest now.

I had done research

at the Braille Institute

in Los Angeles

which gave me confidence

in writing Richard's part.

I needed to know about people

who were profoundly deaf,

which was the case with

the character I was to play.

So I went to see this lady

at the New York League

for the Hard of Hearing.

They told me

her name was "Ms. Webb."

I said, "Oh my God, my luck,

some New England old biddy

is gonna say,

'You're making fun

of the blind and the deaf!'"

So I just thought,

I'll meet him

just like a regular person.

And he wasn't a regular person.

He was gorgeous!

He was very interested

in getting his character right.

He came to class and he saw

how people learned

how to lip-read.

Bath.

And he'd ask them a question,

like, "Does everybody say,

'What are you, f*ckin' deaf?'"

And they'd say, "All the time."

And that line is in the movie.

What are you,

f*ckin' deaf? Move!

Get out of the way!

And then

I would take little plugs

and put them in my ears

so I could walk

through the streets of New York,

and it cut out

about 65 percent of sound.

- Ya dumb idiot!

- You're a dumb idiot!

You talkin' to me?

See No Evil, Hear No Evil

was a big deal for Daddy

because it was

two and half years into

his multiple sclerosis

diagnosis.

He needed something

for him to show

he could still do what he does.

Dad was definitely

very authentic,

because he was going

through all those things.

He was having trouble.

He... he was that blind man

I'm blind.

who lost

his eyesight.

You're blind?

Yes, I'm blind.

Now can I have the job?

So, everything was authentic

for him in that moment.

And we were very conscious

of the fact that we were doing

a film about people

with a disability.

We worked very diligently

at not offending people.

I had no idea, I'm sorry.

Now you know.

Can I get the job?

You're really blind?

Yes. I'm really blind, man!

What are you, f*ckin' deaf?

Yes! I'm f*cking deaf!

They both were so vulnerable,

and I think they both wore

their hearts on their sleeve,

and that's what we see

coming across, you know,

on the camera,

is this real love.

I got to be on set

and watch the process

of them work together,

and the kindness

that I saw Gene display

towards my dad, who was

struggling sometimes physically.

We have steps coming up, Wally.

Three steps, and...

I witnessed

my dad having trouble walking,

holding on,

and remembering lines

because of the MS.

And I loved that,

in a non-obvious way,

Gene was there for him

to be able to be unsteady

but not come off unsteady to us.

- That's teamwork.

- go!

Of all the pleasurable times

that Richard and I had

on previous films...

And there were

some wonderful times,

despite the difficulties...

The experience on

See No Evil, Hear No Evil

was the happiest.

- What are you doing?

- Richard was sane

and clearheaded

and filled with good humor.

I have a lot of love for you.

Thank you.

Ha! Ha-ha!

People looked forward

to these "buddy" films.

The formula wasn't

just in the writing;

the formula was the two people.

Here they were,

from different sides

of racial lines,

being able to come together

and make us laugh.

And that's an amazing legacy.

In September of 1989,

I got a call from

the New York League

for the Hard of Hearing

saying that Ms. Webb

wanted to speak to me.

I called him and said

that I had grant money

to make a videotape

for people to learn

to speech-read

so that we could

put them in libraries.

And he said,

"I'd help you with that."

We arranged to meet

at my favorite Italian

restaurant in Manhattan.

She set a tape recorder

between us,

and while we ate,

Karen posed common problems

for the hearing-impaired.

The second time we met,

at the same restaurant,

we worked on improving

the actual language

that the characters

in each sketch would use.

The third week, I said,

"Leave the tape recorder

at home."

We had our first actual date

on a beautiful fall evening

in the same restaurant

at the same corner table.

He was unique

in that he truly listened.

He was just

a different kind of person

than I'd ever met.

I'd hold Karen's hand.

To have found someone

at this stage in my life

I was in love.

Now I'll go back

to watercolor painting

and maybe to acting,

if I get another job,

and... and I'm gonna get married.

Are... Is this an announcement?

Can we... can we... I mean,

is this the first time

you've mentioned it?

- Yes, yeah.

- You kiddin' me?

I was wondering

whether to ask her, and I...

Looking at you, I decided,

"I'm going to ask

that girl to marry me."

On September 8th, 1991,

Karen and I were

married in the backyard

of the home in Connecticut

that Gilda had left me.

Fate brought us together

at this exact point

in both of our lives.

If I hadn't been

in See No Evil, Hear No Evil,

I would never

have met "Ms. Webb,"

and now I'm married to her.

Gene was wonderful.

He was the best husband

I think anybody could ask for.

To love and be loved

is the best gift in the world.

And we had that.

We did watercolors together.

And we played tennis together.

And we walked together,

we played golf together.

He was the world's

greatest lover,

and he was my Frisco Kid.

He truly cared about me.

He loved my family,

even my grandchildren.

And everybody felt that love.

We took tap-dancing lessons

once a week.

Karen found a wonderful teacher,

and here's the amazing thing:

It felt as exciting as it did

when we had

our first actual date

when she was

still a stranger to me.

With Karen,

I do believe in fate.

You've been through so much.

You've had incredible

career success.

You've had tragedy in your life.

You seem like you're

in a really good place now,

you're happy, and that made

me feel really, you know...

That made me feel good,

'cause I just...

I want you to be happy,

so that was nice.

That's true, right?

You feel good.

I'm happier than

I've ever been in my life.

That's fantastic. Well

That makes

When he had

television interviews,

I went with him.

I went with him everywhere.

I went to the movie set.

And I would watch him act.

I'm sorry, Mr. Truman.

- Does my pounding disturb you?

- No, sir.

It just... just

caught me by surprise.

Oh, okay, well,

I'll try to be more considerate

in the future!

We were blessed with Gene

coming on Will & Grace.

We were just floored.

I like to think

that he recognized

something in the show that...

That harkened back

to all the things he brought.

He was so kind and gentle.

And I just wanted

to make him laugh.

Say, "I'm Stein."

I'm Stein.

- Louder! "I'm Stein!"

- Louder! "I'm Stein!"

I surprised him

with something in a take

that I'm very proud of.

Your name is Frankenstein!

It was just so lovely.

It's one of

my favorite memories.

There was a gentleness

to the show,

and there was

a sensitivity to the show,

and there was an insane

wackiness to the show.

Occupied!

And he got

to do all of those things.

Hear, hear!

It was

almost like a victory lap.

I don't want to have to prove

that I'm a good actor anymore.

I started writing a novel.

Right now, I would rather

write fiction than act.

Gene was

an extremely talented person

in many areas.

He was a very,

very good painter,

mainly watercolors,

and he studied hard,

he took lessons,

he kept trying to get

better and better.

Will you just shut your mouth?

- I'm having a heart attack.

- Oh, nonsense!

I got to do some plays with Gene

at the Westport Playhouse,

and that was fun,

fun to be on stage with him.

Both Gene and I come

from a background of theater,

and he was a very creative guy

and a big appreciator

of other people's creativity.

The first signs

something was wrong

were when I noticed

Gene would forget things

that were really always

easy for him to remember.

But when-when we did

the one in-in jail...

Stir Crazy.

Yeah. It was Stir Crazy,

wasn't it?

He didn't remember the name

of the movie Young Frankenstein.

He would've never,

ever forgot that,

because that was

his favorite movie.

He then started

to forget many things,

and I asked him if he'd noticed

and if he'd go

for an evaluation,

and he said,

"If it gets worse."

A lot of people have

mild cognitive impairment

and it doesn't progress,

and I suppose I hoped

that was what it was.

I found a doctor who did

the comprehensive test

for cognitive impairment

in Connecticut.

Gene was amazed

that he couldn't draw a clock

and make it 10:30.

And he couldn't do it.

He wasn't upset,

he just couldn't figure out why.

But I knew then that

something was very wrong.

Our friend suggested

we go see Dr. Michael Rafii

in San Diego,

where we've spent the winters.

I first met Gene

in January of 2014,

where he was 80 years old.

Based on the history,

the examination,

memory testing,

MRI of the brain,

as well as a very

specialized kind of scan

called an amyloid PET scan,

was confirmatory

for his diagnosis.

Alzheimer's disease dementia.

I said, "Oh, no."

And Gene said, "Oh, no."

He never really accepted

that he had Alzheimer's,

and maybe by the time

we found out that's what it was,

his hippocampus

didn't let him remember.

So I'm not sure

that he ever knew.

When I'd see him

slip away further from me,

I was sick to my stomach,

but I had to keep smiling

and tell him

that everything was okay.

That was the hardest

part for me.

Gene certainly had memory loss

that progressively

worsened over time

and also included

some other thinking skills

that were affected,

including language.

I called him a lot,

thinking maybe if I gave him

enough references,

I could get him out of it.

Insanity, in my part.

He was in the throes

of that terrible disease.

We could never talk too long

after he got it.

It was so sad,

it made me cry a lot, you know.

We still went out to dinner,

and he made it

to his nephew's wedding.

He could hardly walk.

He danced down the aisle

and made it through the wedding.

He was always in our prayers,

and it's a sad thing

to see somebody

that you love so much,

you know, suffer like that.

To Karen and anybody, you know,

who was involved

with him intimately,

it's hard... it's hard

to see that.

People think Alzheimer's is

only a memory disease,

but what att*cks your brain

att*cks your body.

Couldn't put on his shoes,

couldn't tie his tie.

One time, he fell,

and there were three of us,

and we couldn't

get him up on the bed.

And finally,

we ended up laughing.

We have pictures

of all of us laughing.

Took us couple of hours.

He was dying, and Gene

looked at me and says,

"Is that what's happening?"

"Yeah," I said. "Yes."

He hadn't walked alone,

and it was just a few days

before he died,

and I looked up,

and he was walking

across the kitchen.

And... and then he said,

"I want to go swimming."

He dove into the pool

like he used to.

I saw his little tush

in the air,

and I was awestruck.

And he took two strokes,

he stood up,

shook his head

the way he always did

to get the water

out of his ear, and said,

"That's good."

Went back to bed,

and I think he just

wanted to get in the pool

one more time.

We always had music playing

in the house.

We used to listen

to Ella Fitzgerald.

The music was playing

in the background.

Somewhere

over the rainbow

Ella Fitzgerald was singing

"Somewhere Over the Rainbow."

Way up high

I was lying next to him,

and he sat up in bed

and he said

"I trust you."

Then he said, "I love you."

That's the last thing he said.

There was some really sad news

about the passing

of Gene Wilder.

We're learning more about

the death of Gene Wilder.

One of the most legendary

comedic talents of our time

has died due to complications

from Alzheimer's disease.

The reactions pouring in

from coast to coast.

I was inconsolable

for a couple of weeks.

When he lived his life,

he lived it loud and eloquently.

He was an outstanding actor,

and also, an outstanding person.

You are my best friend!

I believe Leo Bloom exists.

I believe the Waco Kid exists.

I believe

Dr. Frankenstein exists.

That's insane.

Gene makes you think

that that guy is out there,

trying his hardest,

despite all these obstacles,

to navigate

this impossible world.

He embodied these characters,

and we felt their humanity.

This is a wonderful man.

He made me what I am today.

I miss his enjoying my humor.

I could make him laugh

where he would

sometimes grab his belly,

hit the ground,

and roll around

on the ground and laugh.

That's the real payment

in being a comic.

And, boy, he paid,

he was delicious.

Acting seems

so much easier than life,

and when I'm taking my bow,

I have the belief that I've

earned my feeling of grace,

as if God were saying,

"You did something worthwhile."
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