The Mr. and Mrs. Buce Film Appreciation Society recently enjoyed a screening of Mel Brooks' Twelve Chairs. I first saw it about 25 years ago, the same week (I think) that I saw a Russian version of the same (by Leonid Gaidai), which does not seem to be available on Netflix (nor anyplace else that I can find). Indeed it seems there are half a dozen versions, including one from Cuba, and one in which Fred Allen plays the proprietor of a traveling flea circus.
No surprise, when you stop to think of it; the plot is classic, or inevitable: competing teams of malefactors chase after the same loot and hilarity ensues (think It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World, among many others). What gives Twelve Chairs its particular durability is the opportunity it provides for extended commentary on the dashed hopes and deflated pretensions of the Soviet Union. Which brings me to a particular question: would Twelve Chairs say anything about Russia today? Or do we need a wholly new vehicle? Twelve Kalashnikovs, anybody?
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