It would have been easier to dismiss if it had been the brainchild of a reverent screenwriter pitching an animated remake of Blazing Saddles, instead of a pale echo written, produced, and voiced by the man himself, Mel Brooks. Just 10 minutes into the opening weekend matinee, it became obvious why I had the theatre to myself. To a cat’s eye, a dog samurai in Kakamucho (read: much caca) is just as intimidating as a black sheriff in lily white Rock Ridge. Half a century’s worth of imitators separates this from its predecessor. The self-reflexive tropes, anarchic and gleefully taboo in their day, are now as forced as the fart humor. (Worse still, nothing here is more cartoonish than a grown man decking a live-action horse with one punch.) For a brief moment, the action was poised to spill off the screen and into an adjoining multiplex, but rather than break the fourth wall at Nickelodeon Studios, we close, appropriately enough, inside a giant overflowing toilet. At 96, it's doubtful that Mel Brooks has another production in him. Let's hope he does. Mensch Mel doesn't deserve to go out in such a blaze of ignominy. Three men — Chris Bailey, Mark Koetsier, and Rob Minkoff — share the director’s credit. (2022) — Scott Marks
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