A peerless ‘Producer’

Bob Amaral grew up a big Mel Brooks fan. He was particularly taken with a 1968 Brooks movie titled “The Producers,” starring Zero Mostel as Max Bialystock, a greedy show-biz producer who attempts to create a musical so bad that it will close on opening night.

So imagine Amaral’s emotions when he found himself in L.A., auditioning for the role of Bialystock in the national tour of the musical version of “The Producers,” which opens Tuesday for an eight-performance run at the Spokane Opera House.

Conducting the audition was the Great Mel himself.

“You have to understand that Mel Brooks has been one of my comedy gods for years and years,” said Amaral, by phone from a tour stop. “So I was a little intimidated. But then I saw that marvelous Brooks face.”

Brooks flashed him that famous grin, and Amaral relaxed just enough to nail the audition.

Amaral had plenty of other reasons for confidence.

For one thing, he had already proven himself as a Broadway star. He was just coming off a successful run as Pumbaa in the national tour of “The Lion King,” the only Broadway show even bigger than “The Producers.”

He had also starred in the Broadway revivals of “A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum,” as Pseudolus, and “Guys and Dolls,” as Harry the Horse.

For another thing, Amaral’s wife seemed to have a positive opinion about his suitability for the role. In fact, when she first attended a performance of “The Producers” in St. Louis, she was so excited she called him from the lobby and said: “You were born to play this part.”

That was nice, but the possibility remained that she was prejudiced.

Later, after he got the part and was in rehearsals for the first time, a more objective observer leaned toward him and said: “You were born to play this part.” It was the show’s legendary director-choreographer, Susan Stroman.

“I said, ‘Now it’s official,’ ” said Amaral.

It’s not easy living up to the examples of both Mostel, who has been identified with the role for 36 years, and Nathan Lane, who originated the role in 2001 on Broadway. But Amaral said he sometimes feels as if he’s channeling Mostel.

“Every night, I hear the voice of Zero Mostel,” he said.

The movie was a cult hit but never a big box office success. So there was no reason to suspect that a musical version would be more than an amusing curiosity, especially with music and lyrics by Brooks himself, heretofore not exactly considered Cole Porter.

But it turned out to be a huge, foot-stomping, knee-slapping phenomenon. Tickets were sold out for months, and it picked up a record 12 Tony Awards.

The musical stays fairly faithful to the original movie plot.

Max, the crooked producer, dreams up a scheme in which he seduces rich widows, raises money for a Broadway show and then closes the show on opening night. He hires a nervous accountant, Leo Bloom, to cook the books.

Then he runs off with the rest of the money.

So they dream up the worst possible show, “Springtime for Hitler,” a chirpy musical about the Third Reich. The scheme goes awry due to one little problem: The audience loves it.

The musical has the same kind of slapstick, vaudevillian charm as the movie, with lots of songs thrown in. As is usual with Brooks creations, every subject is fair game for satire: gays, Jews, Nazis and just about every ethnic group you can think of.

“If you”re offended and don’t think it’s funny, just wait a minute and you’ll start laughing at something else,” said Amaral. “Mel Brooks, of all people, can laugh at Nazis.”

This touring production is one of the biggest-budget companies on the road. It’s what you might call a 10-truck production: That’s how many semitrucks it takes to move this show from city to city.

It has a cast of 27, a traveling crew of 28, a 24-piece orchestra, 400 props, 404 costumes and 22 Hitler mustaches.

It’s nearly identical to the show that is still knockin’ ‘em dead on Broadway, although with a few new gags to suit the new leads, Amaral and Andy Taylor (Bloom).

Amaral said he is continually astonished to see the effect that this show has on audiences.

“They’re bending over in their chairs, slapping their legs, pounding on the backs of the chairs,” he said.

When he first stepped on stage, Amaral said, he felt a “huge responsibility” to live up to the show’s reputation.

“But once those first laughs came,” he said, “I knew I could relax and enjoy the ride.”