As part of a long career, Mel Brooks created Blazing Saddles, released in 1974. For me, it redefined satire for the 20th century. The film was made at a time when America was in crisis. It had just been through the Vietnam war and the civil rights movement. The country was deeply divided and in the midst of a serious identity crisis – like it is again today. Against this background, and surely in need of a good laugh, Brooks decided to make a “comedy western”, two film genres that don’t traditionally go together.
Westerns were white American. Certainly, the earliest examples are propagandist. No other culture mythologises its own creation in such a cinematic way. One tried and tested western blueprint is the tale of the great white saviour bringing the savage land to heel. Blazing Saddles turns this formula on its head. Using greed and corruption as a catalyst for ownership of the town, Rock Ridge, a group of unscrupulous characters decide to engage the services of a new black sheriff, portrayed by the excellent Cleavon Little, knowing full well that his employment alone would trigger the racist sensibilities of the townsfolk and thus drive them out. A perfect solution. As predicted the people of Rock Ridge are outraged at the very prospect of a black man being the town’s purveyor of law and order.
What transpires is a torch shone on racist, sexist and bigoted attitudes which absolutely captures the mood and prejudice of the time. Those attitudes still exist. Undoubtedly, Little’s character, Sheriff Bart, is the hero of the film. Through an unlikely newly formed alliance between a resident alcoholic prisoner, played by the incomparable Gene Wilder, we observe how these two men from different sides of the track get to know each other, respect each other and work together. Wilder and Little’s characters bond over their amused and wry awareness of the hypocrisy of the events unfolding around them.
For example, we are shocked into laughter at an incongruous scene where an elderly white lady casually abuses the sheriff (who simply bids her good day), then we see her in a later scene bringing him a home cooked pie, a kind of peace offering, yet not quite an apology. A horse-punching thug named Mongo, manipulated by the powers that be, is sent to kill the sheriff. When the plan is thwarted and Mongo is imprisoned, a remarkably philosophical scene follows and he befriends the sheriff, his former enemy.
The writing team behind Blazing Saddles included the highly regarded godfather of standup comedy, Richard Pryor. Pryor was one of the first black comedians to cross over into the mainstream and make movies, including collaborations with Wilder. He was not afraid of using the N-word in his standup routines and comedy specials to blistering effect and that same word is used a great deal in this film. Some will balk at the frequent use of this epithet, and we all know of the power of words to dehumanise and demean. By the 1980s Pryor had changed his mind and spoke about his use of the N-word with regret and his desire to not use it again. It’s one thing to reclaim a word to dissolve its strength, it’s another to continue using it and thus keep it in the lexicon enabling others to use it and forgetting its horrific origin.
This debate continues today. Who is allowed to say a word? What does it mean? Short of banning words or allowing certain groups exclusive rights, it is a quagmire and will remain so. Nuance doesn’t stand a chance. Judging this film by today’s standards is harsh. We all know that attitudes and language change over time and rightly so. However, to have made this film trying to avoid certain words would not have been realistic, and I think it has stood the test of time.
Blazing Saddles is far from subtle. It’s absurdist, it’s unapologetically right in your face. It uses many comedic styles: there’s slapstick, offensive humour, satire and literal gallows humour. It breaks the fourth wall. In fact, it completely shatters it. Just as American identity in the 1970s had been smashed under the sledgehammer of wars raging inside and outside its borders, Brooks demolishes the definition of the western, the American comedy and race relations with a hammer just as heavy.
The most memorable scene for me is towards the end of the film, when Brooks doesn’t just break the fourth wall by having the characters address the audience directly, but utterly destroys it by having them chaotically leave their Los Angeles film set, invade neighbouring productions then escape the Warner Brothers lot – finally buying tickets to watch their own film’s climax at a downtown Los Angeles cinema. It makes me think of a nation, once so at ease with the sins of its past, breaking out of its comfort zone, shattering its complacency and finally taking a hard look at itself. I sometimes wonder if the audiences that first saw this film realised who was actually being lampooned by it.
• Stephen K Amos introduces a screening of Blazing Saddles and appears in My Comedy Heroes on 15 February at the Lantern Hall, Bristol Beacon, as part of the Slapstick festival.
