I love this movie like the most dogeared page of a well-travelled passport.
It remains one of my favourite holidays. A place my parents took me as a kid, intrinsically tied to my rapscallion youth and favourite laughs with my sibs. A place we’d revisit time and again, in person or phrenic photo, quoting the lines until they became ours first.
It was on this trip that I first met Madeline Kahn (who made me happy in my comedo bone, long before there was any Tina of blessed Fey); and the vested-uncle to my levity, Mel Brooks (aka dude who put farts on the map). And Brophy. My buddy Bro-phy. Good times.