We explained that we wanted to do a wheelchair chase, and we would find him as he sat in a wheelchair recovering from a racing-car mishap. We had motorized wheelchairs and it was ambitious and a little crazy if not actually dangerous. But he went for it! He loved the idea of speeding ahead of us in his motorized wheelchair. In a P.S. response he explained that I didn’t have to send him those ten cases of St. Pauli Girl beer to get him to say yes—but he wasn’t going to send them back, just in case my check bounced.
Shooting the Paul Newman wheelchair chase scene was one of the happiest on-set movie experiences of my life. We actually sped flat out doing our best to catch him in his chair, but we never could. Really! He was too damn good.
Every once in a while, I would hear a crash of wheelchairs followed by Marty Feldman’s cockney-accented voice shouting, “I’m all right, love!”
Silent Movie also gave me an opportunity to work with enduring comedy icons that I had loved all my life. There were a number of classic bits that were even funnier in the silent format.
Fritz Feld was the ever-present headwaiter in every fancy dining room scene ever filmed. In order to summon another waiter, he would make a popping sound by slapping his hand against his open mouth.
So in Silent Movie when he did that, we gave him a title card that said just one word:
POP.
For Fritz Feld aficionados it was spot-on.
We did another version of a classic burlesque bit with Henny Youngman, known for his ever-popular groan-worthy one-liners. We see a van speeding along which reads ACNE PEST CONTROL and on top of which is their logo, a huge plastic fly. As the van approaches a corner it nearly collides with a passing truck. The driver hits the brakes, and the van with the fly on top comes to a screeching stop just in time. But it completely unhinges the huge fly, which sails through the air and lands at an outdoor café table where Henny Youngman is having lunch.
The giant fly almost hits Henny, but lands on his table. He shouts to the waiter via title card:
Waiter, there’s a fly in my soup.
There was another bit starring Harry Ritz of the Ritz Brothers, one of my comedy idols. The godfather of physical comedy. You could see where Danny Kaye, Jerry Lewis, and Sid Caesar all got their wacky faces and funny moves from. When I called Harry, he was actually flattered, and thrilled to be a part of our movie. In his scene we see a custom-made tailor shop window with a brown-paper-and-cardboard-stitched cutout of a tuxedo showing us how exquisitely their tailor-made suits are constructed. From the doorway exits Harry Ritz, doing his famous Ritz Brothers crazy walk and proudly wearing the same cutout paper-and-cardboard-stitched suit that we saw in the window.
My last stroke of genius was actually getting the world-famous mime Marcel Marceau to utter the only word we would hear in Silent Movie.
In a title card Dom, Marty, and I are on the telephone. On the other end is Marcel Marceau.
Our title card reads:
Monsieur Marceau, we’re begging you! Would you please be in our silent movie?
We cut to Marcel Marceau, who utters the only real line of dialogue in the entire film: “NON!”
NON!
* * *
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The best thing about directing actors in a silent film is that you could shout directions as they were acting, and it wouldn’t ruin the shot. We weren’t recording any sound. The same way I didn’t shoot Young Frankenstein in color out of an abundance of caution, here we had no sound-recording devices whatsoever. The crew could laugh as loud as they wanted to! No white handkerchiefs this time around.
I even directed the film with a megaphone to my mouth like they really did in silent movies. I’d shout, “Wave your arms! Bigger gestures! C’mon! We’re in a close-up, widen your eyes! Bernadette, show us you’re really in love! Give us more!”
I had a ball. It was the most fun I ever had directing a movie. I loved working with my crews and had developed a reputation of having a joyful set and this was no exception.
* * *
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The final script of Silent Movie was the film the public saw, except for a brief sequence that never made it into the film. It was called “Lobsters in New York,” and it starts with a restaurant sign that reads CHEZ LOBSTER. Inside, a huge lobster in a ma?tre d’s tuxedo is greeting two very well-dressed lobsters in evening dress and leading them to a table.
* * *
—
Here I am on a camera boom directing a movie starring me as a movie director.
（Already we thought this was hysterical.）
Then a waiter lobster in a white jacket shows them a menu that says “Flown in Fresh from New York.” They get up and follow the waiter lobster to an enormous tank, where a lot of little human beings are swimming nervously around. The diner lobsters point to a tasty-looking middle-aged man. The waiter’s claw reaches into the tank. It picks up the man, who is going bananas, and that was the end of the scene.