A Pair of Jokers

(2 of 4)

Rewind to 2000. Broderick had been gamely vamping his way through big-budget nonsuccesses (Godzilla, Inspector Gadget) while quietly surprising a few dozen moviegoers with skillful turns in low-budget indies (Election, You Can Count on Me). Lane had given what looked like, and should have been, a breakout performance opposite Robin Williams in The Birdcage in 1996. But no. "Nothing. I had two offers," says Lane, with a touch of pardonable bitterness. "One was, I was asked to play Mr. Magoo, which I turned down. The other was a film called Mousehunt. That was it." Nobody questioned his talent. They just couldn't figure out what to do with it. When The Producers came calling, it was hardly a sure thing. A screen-to-stage adaptation of a Mel Brooks comedy three decades old, it has no hit songs and very little in the way of witty dialogue. The plot is tinsel-thin: Max, a crooked Broadway producer, and his nerdy accountant Leo concoct a scheme to make millions off a show that's calculated to flop.

But when Broderick and Lane got together for a rehearsal, something unexpected happened. They made each other better. "It was very intimate," says Susan Stroman, who directed Lane and Broderick in The Producers both on Broadway and in the upcoming movie version. "I knew immediately, when Matthew said his first line, 'Mr. Bialystock, anybody here?'"

Brooks, who's producing the movie, is less restrained. "I had no idea," he says. "They're like the cobalt bomb! If you take two elements and you put them together, sometimes they generate something that is way beyond their individual strengths."

If you look closely, you can see what Broderick and Lane get from each other. Take Broderick: with his permanently boyish features, his bite-sized stature, his slightly adenoidal voice, he's the quintessence of the light comic actor. But Lane sees something else in him: a sly, versatile mimic, with stage smarts that won him a Tony the first time he ever set foot on Broadway (in Simon's Brighton Beach Memoirs, when he was 21). He pushes Broderick to let that side of him show. "He's very spontaneous," Lane says of his co-star. "He's more improvisational than he gives himself credit for. I very often have forced him into it. I ask him questions as Marlon Brando, or as one of these characters that he does. He can really riff, once he gets into the character."

Lane doesn't let Broderick be reticent. He forces him out, keeps him from coasting on that effortless Ferris Bueller charm. "It's comfortable and at the same time not too comfortable," Broderick says. "It's very on-your-toes. He's very challenging onstage. It sounds like a boxing match--and it is, a little bit. There are elements of competitiveness, but it's the good kind. He's very agile. You have to pay attention."

BRODERICK: He's very present, and he forces you to be too. I hate to admit it, but we enjoy each other.

LANE: Why do you hate to admit it?

BRODERICK: [Embarrassed] Because it's gross to talk about it. I really do enjoy 20% of my time onstage. I'm usually at about 17%, 18%, but when I'm with Nathan, it's like 20%.