REVIEW: 'The Producers' delivers the funny

Not long before the curtain came up and “The Producers” ignited the Fine Arts Center stage, the guy sitting next to me leaned my way. “I’ll forgive you for laughing at inappropriate parts,” he said, “if you forgive me.”

I laughed. Only Mel Brooks — the genius behind gut busters “Blazing Saddles” and “Young Frankenstein” — could generate that kind of embarrassed pleasure in his audiences. A 12-time Tony-winning musical adaptation of Brooks’ 1968 film, “The Producers” mocks just about everybody: Jews, gays, lesbians, Nazis, accountants, chubby women, over-sexed old ladies, cops, dumb blondes and Broadway itself. And even though your mama raised you better, you have to laugh: It’s the Stockholm syndrome in musical theater.

Mounting this spectacle of non-stop singing, dancing and intricate patter requires guts and extensive resources. First-time Fine Arts Center director Steve Emily delivers in spades — with some impressive production values, confident direction and dazzling performances by nearly every member of the large cast. It’s probably the best production I’ve seen in the SaGáJi Theatre in the past two years.

Max Bialystock (Cory Moosman) is a big time loser: Once dubbed the King of Broadway, this producer’s star fell a long time before the play opens in 1959. After yet another opening-night closing, Bialystock and nebbishy accountant Leo Bloom (Mark Lively) stumble on a radical notion: On Broadway, a failure can actually be considerably more profitable than a hit. So the two set about finding a surefire dog. A musical called “Springtime for Hitler” seems a good bet, especially as directed by a man who believes all theater should be ... er, gay.

Any praise for this production has to begin with Moosman, who creates a pitch-perfect Bialystock, the morally bankrupt linchpin of the story. Wielding his voice like a crowbar, he conjures the seedy ingenuity of Bialystock in leers, wicked sidelong glances, an oily laugh and the almost missable embellishments that make the ridiculous a lot more real.

As Moosman often channels previous Maxes (Zero Mostel and in the Broadway production and 2005 film, Nathan Lane), Lively’s adenoidal delivery and demeanor is pure Matthew Broderick, who portrayed Bloom on Broadway and the recent film. Unfortunately, it didn’t work any better for Lively than it did for Broderick.

And their chemistry? Sporadic.

Wearing lederhosen, a Nazi armband and helmet, Brantley Scott Haines hardly had to speak to elicit guffaws. When he does speak, he is just plain hilarious as playwright Franz Liebkind. Haines inhabits this wacky role with complete commitment and palpable enthusiasm. His performance alone is worth the price of the ticket.

Michael E. Gold joyfully navigates the role of the flamboyant director Roger DeBris with aplomb, style and the skill of the song-and-dance man he is. Sammy Gleason shouldn’t be overlooked either: He plays DeBris’ “assistant” with the high drama of a Judy Garland drag queen.

Finally, the production team. It’s not unusual for the Fine Arts Center to support their work with solid production values, but their work in “The Producers” takes them to a whole new level. Highlights include Mary Ripper Baker’s choreography (especially in the massive opening scene of “Springtime”), conductor Roberta Jacyshyn and her wonderful orchestra, and the surprisingly cheeky costumes by Nicole Harrison. The voice of these nuts-and bolts elements is so individual that it’s practically another character.

Detractions that evening were few: Alannah Moore doesn’t take Ulla, the requisite dumb blonde, as far as she could. After the fabulous and very funny "Springtime for Hitler" scene, the second act drags a bit.

In the end, I only grumbled about one thing: my theater seat. I know the Fine Arts Center values its audiences. Why not apply a bit of the proceeds from this record-breaking season to preserving their backs?