The Automat, on TCM

For decades, Horn & Hardart automats helped New Yorkers and Philadelphians maintain their buying power during times of inflation. Their New Orleans-style chicory coffee was only a nickel and everything else in their locations was priced in increments of five cents. Their machines were exclusively tooled for nickels, so when they finally raised the price of coffee, they had to double it to ten cents. That was the beginning of the end, but Horn & Hardart had a good run, which Mel Brooks and other famous former customers look back on fondly in Lisa Hurwitz’s documentary, The Automat, which airs Tuesday night on TCM.

When Hardart teamed up with Horn, he thought introducing New Yorkers to NOLA chicory coffee would be a winning strategy—and it was, even for their early diner-style restaurants. However, when they adopted and perfected European automated serving techniques, their brand really took off. All Hurwitz’s interview subjects warmly laud the automats for the democratic environment. Visitors could often find millionaires seated next to homeless people there, much like New York’s mass transit. Unfortunately, in the 1960s, New York’s swelling homeless population contributed to Horn & Hardart’s downfall, because it looked like nearly all of them passed their time loitering at their automats.

However, the food was always good—especially during the Depression. At that time, Horn & Hardart bought in such volume, they could still offer quality food at affordable nickel prices.

Mel Brooks was definitely a fan. He isn’t just Hurwitz’s lead interview. He also wrote and performed “At the Automat,” the endearingly sentimental original song heard over the closing credits. His old crony Carl Reiner was also a regular, who sat for an automat interview before his death in 2020. There are reminiscences from other famous people, but some of the most interesting commentary comes from Starbucks CEO Howard Schultz, who explains how his childhood automat visits inspired his hospitality approach for the coffee chain. (Hearing him talk might make you wish he hadn’t been muscled out of the 2020 presidential race, especially considering the alternatives we were stick with.)

Tribeca ’16: The Last Laugh

With The Great Dictator, Charlie Chaplin tried rather unsuccessfully to re-appropriate his toothbrush mustache. In the process, he established an unofficial rule of comedy that has been pretty scrupulously observed until recent years. You can mock Hitler (see John Cleese in half the episodes of Monty Python’s Flying Circus), but you cannot joke about what he did. Many popular comedians and also Sarah Silverman discuss and debate the last taboo in their business throughout Ferne Pearlstein’s The Last Laugh, which screened during this year’s Tribeca Film Festival.

There is no consensus of opinion among the survivors featured in Last Laugh. Some claim they never could have endured without the subversive power of humor, whereas others say they never found anything funny about the Holocaust—end of story. Despite Chaplin in Dictator and Bugs Bunny in Herr Meets Hare (which Warner Brothers withdrew from general circulation after the war ended), Hitler jokes were still a little iffy until Mel Brooks scandalized polite society with The Producers.

Frankly, you have to marvel at Brooks’ fearlessness when he discusses his long “relationship” with Hitler. Obviously, French Holocaust survivor and original Hogan’s Heroes cast-member Robert Clary has a very personal perspective on the issue as well. There is also a healthy disagreement regarding Roberto Benigni’s Life is Beautiful, with the Anti-Defamation League’s Abraham Foxman taking a “pro” position and just about everybody else lining up against.

Yes, Mel Brooks is still funny and Silverman still isn’t. As a result, there are some mid-sized laughs sprinkled throughout Pearlstein’s doc, but her cafeteria style approach makes it feel more like the pay cable special it should have been. However, the double-secret bootleg footage of Jerry Lewis’s notoriously off-key Holocaust comedy, The Day the Clown Cried (pointedly contrasted with Benigni’s mawkish shenanigans) is a coup that should attract curious gawkers.

Pearlstein is sensitive in the way the film presents tasteless humor, so it is unlikely to offend any viewers. Last Laugh also moves along rather snappily, but it never delivers the deep revelations of its implied promises. Yet, the film will serve an important purpose as a benchmark to measure the further evolution of comedic standards. Considering the rise in anti-Semitism (driven by immigration trends and anti-“Zionist” activism), would anyone be surprised if Holocaust jokes were to become common place in five years? Pearlstein never asks that question, which is a lost opportunity. Sometimes amusing and sometimes informative, The Last Laugh is a mostly competent attempt to take our cultural temperature on a critically significant subject. It screens May 1^st, 2^nd, and 7^th during this year’s Hot Docs following its world premiere at the 2016 Tribeca Film Festival.

Mel Brooks, American Master

He has only helmed eleven feature films, but he defines the art of tasteless comedy.  Mel Brooks more or less invented the movie spoof genre, before the Wayanses thoroughly discredited it.  Now the Emmy, Grammy, Oscar, and Tony Award winner gets the American Masters treatment in Robert Trachtenberg’s Mel Brooks: Make a Noise (promo here), which airs this Monday on PBS stations nationwide.

As the 2,000 Year Old Man, Brooks has quite a career to look back on.  His first big break came on television as a writer for Sid Caesar’s Your Show of Shows, the classic sketch comedy showcase that would later serve as a model for the nostalgic Peter O’Toole dramedy My Favorite Year, which Brooks’ company produced.  He subsequently made a name for himself with the aforementioned comedy act he developed with Carl Reiner, but a handful of classic movies would establish Brooks as a brand name.

Logically, Trachtenberg devotes considerable time to The Producers, Blazing Saddles, and Young Frankenstein, adding reminiscences from Brooks regulars like Gene Wilder and Cloris Leachman. He also includes some fitting archival footage of Marty Feldman, Madeline Kahn, and of course Anne Bancroft.  Clearly, they shared one of the few true show business romances.  Yet, to his credit, Brooks sounds quite gracious when discussing his first wife.

Brooks must be an exceedingly difficult interview subject, but Trachtenberg’s persistence is impressive.  From time to time, he also surprises Brooks with the insight of his questions, as when he asks the writer-director when he first became aware of Hitler (who plays such an unusual role in Brooks films like The Producers).

There are not a lot of surprises in Noise, nor does Trachtenberg delve shockingly deeply into Brooks’ psyche.  Nonetheless, he nicely captures the comedy giant’s dichotomies.  Viewers see a smart, thoughtful man with a talent for fart jokes.  We understand he is a private individual by temperament, but has a healthy disregard for his own public image.  Overall, it is a highly watchable profile that should entertain Brooks’ many fans when it airs this coming Monday (5/20) as part of the current season of American Masters on PBS.