The Producers ★★★★★

Mel Brooks’ 1967 film The Producers was deemed too controversial by critics and received a mixed response from audiences, although it eventually achieved cult status. The 2001 musical, however, was an immediate smash and garnered multiple awards. It’s easy to see why. This revival is a joyously over-the-top spectacle, delivered with camp exuberance and a knowing wink – and Brooks’ jokes hold up, almost 60 years on.

Andy Nyman stars as washed-up Broadway producer Max Bialystock, whose latest show, a musical version of Hamlet, has flopped. Max Bialystock, the first producer to do summerstock..in the winter. The man who invented theatre in the square. And then a timid young accountant, Leo Bloom (Marc Antolin), notices that it’s possible to generate more money from a flop than a hit by overselling to investors and then closing the show immediately – because the IRS won’t pay attention to failures.

This unlikely duo set about finding the worst play imaginable, with the worst director and cast, which Bialystock will sell to his investors – the richest widows in New York, whom he seduces for cash.

The worst play turns out to be “Springtime for Hitler”, an ode to the Führer and Eva Braun, written by fanatical ex-Nazi Franz Liebkind (Harry Morrison). The worst director is flamboyant Roger de Bris (Trevor Ashley), who promptly sets about creating the gayest Third Reich possible and, after a series of mishaps, casts himself in the title role, opposite Bloom’s Swedish bombshell love interest Ulla (Joanna Woodward). Unfortunately for Bialystock & Bloom, the audience believes the high-camp spectacle to be satirical, and the sure-fire flop becomes a runaway success.

The songs, choreography and staging sparkle. When Bialystock mourns his once-successful career (The King of Broadway), he’s accompanied by an acrobatic gang of down-and-outs. Later, a group of elderly ladies dance with wild abandon as Bialystock seduces them for cash investments (Along Came Bialy). But it’s Springtime for Hitler that really stands out. The title song of the show-within-a-show featured in the original film, and here its presentation is nothing short of spectacular ridiculousness, featuring high-kicking stormtroopers, glittering swastikas and sauerkraut headpieces – and that’s before an outrageously camp Hitler enters the scene on a chariot.

The book and lyrics are unmistakeably from the mind of Mel Brooks: hilarious and offensive in equal measure. “Springtime for Hitler and Germany” means that it’s also “Winter for Poland and France”. During opening night, the audience for Bialystock’s Hamlet musical wail, “We’ve seen shit, but never like this.” Bloom’s accountant boss stamps out free thinking amongst his workers: “Do I smell the revolting stench of self-esteem?” And when Bialystock and Bloom try to persuade Liebkind to sell them the rights to his play, his pet pigeons gently coo “Jews” in his ear.

The production also features meta moments. As Ulla chases Bloom around the office, she quizzes him on why he’s “sitting all the way over here on stage right”. A naked dancing statue from De Bris’ mansion accidentally ends up in the next scene in Bialystock’s office. And as Bialystock runs through everything that happened to him in Betrayed, he even includes the intermission, which cues the house lights.

Nyman, sporting a horrible combover, is made for the role of Bialystock, but the entire cast delivers a joyous, grin-inducing performance. In transferring this show to the West End, it seems like director Patrick Marber’s mantra was “go big or go home”. And in a world where fascism seems to be getting a positive PR spin, it’s perhaps more important than ever to laugh at Hitler.