The actor who cost Mel Brooks a fortune: “I ruined so many takes he was in”
As revelatory as it sounds, comedy movies are supposed to be funny. However, no matter how hilarious the material may be when it’s being recited on set, it would seem reasonable for an experienced filmmaker to maintain their professionalism at all times. That was usually the case with Mel Brooks, until he met one actor who ended up costing him a fortune.
Already an experienced comic before he made his feature-length directorial debut on The Producers in 1968, Brooks had spent almost his entire working life around funny people. With that in mind, it would make sense that he’d have developed a remarkably straight face whenever he acted or directed around the performers he’d hired specifically to leave audiences howling uncontrollably.
Brooks has always been an effusive ball of energy, unlike other comedians and comedically inclined actors who have reputations for being surprisingly dark and sombre when the cameras aren’t rolling. He never seems able to switch it off, but as an Academy Award-winning filmmaker and EGOT, the bare minimum should be keeping it together on set.
Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case when he was filming Spaceballs, which caused his tab with the studio to rise higher than he would have liked. Bill Pullman had the unwanted distinction of failing to make Brooks laugh at any point during the production, but Rick Moranis was an entirely different case.
The diminutive funnyman was already one of the industry’s most popular comic actors when he played Dark Helmet in the sci-fi cult favourite, having previously stolen scenes in Ghostbusters, Brewster’s Millions, and Little Shop of Horrors. He was a known quantity, but Brooks still wasn’t prepared.
“Rick was hysterically funny in the role,” he said. “He cost me a lot of money because I ruined so many takes he was in by helplessly breaking into loud laughter. He brilliantly improvised one of his most famous scenes in the movie, the one in which he gets caught playing with little action-figure versions of Lone Starr, Princess Vespa, and himself.”
That must have been a kick in the teeth for Pullman, who was given the chance to prove to his director that he had it in him to deliver a zinger or two, only for Brooks’ stony-faced expression to make it patently clear he was much better served remaining Spaceballs‘ straight man.
Meanwhile, Moranis’ improvisation and commitment to his ludicrous villain constantly had the director doubled over in laughter, so much so that Brooks could barely string a couple of takes together without cracking.
The actor’s beleaguered everyman schtick was what made him famous, but Spaceballs showed that casting him against type as the most fearsome villain in the galaxy was equally effective, even if it left a lot of unusable footage on the cutting room floor.
