“You want to x-ray the celery? What, do you think we’re smuggling dope in the celery? The celery’s not for dope. It’s for dip!”

Rarely rising above the level of tame homage, Mel Brooks’ High Anxiety sends up the oeuvre of one Alfred Hitchcock with the sincerest form of flattery: imitation. That is to say—and here I simply regurgitate the same criticism that has dogged the film since its release—that Hitchcock’s films already have plenty of wit, self-awareness, and satire contained within them, and so try as he might to take a unique approach to the material, Brooks does little more than gussy up common Hitchcock elements with especially juvenile humor. Which is totally fine! It actually results in a warm, affectionate riff on the formula. It just doesn’t reach the delirious heights of Brooks’ masterful parodies such as Blazing Saddles and Young Frankenstein.

Starring the director, a strong trio of second fiddlers in Madeline Kahn, Cloris Leachman, and Harvey Korman, and a selection of regulars from the filmmaker’s repertory, the film follows a high caliber psychologist (Brooks) who, after being appointed the new administrator of a sanitorium, finds himself investigating a possible murder while being framed for a totally different one. Hijinks quickly ensue, with Brooks managing a decent balancing act between a parodic thriller and his own (non-Hitchcockian) asides, which include among them a diegetic symphony orchestra coincidentally passing on the freeway, a proto-furry who greets people with licks, Nurse Diesel’s (Leachman) closet full of whips and chains, a literal fourth wall break, and a brilliant segment where Brooks and Kahn act like a squabbling old Jewish couple to bluff their way through airport security.

Although it includes overt spoofs of Psycho, Spellbound, Vertigo, Dial M for Murder, North by Northwest, The Lodger, The Birds, and more, and also includes a stand-in for Hitchcock’s standard cameo as well as an offscreen character named Mr. MacGuffin for good measure, for better or worse, High Anxiety is much funnier when it isn’t spoofing Hitchcock at all, but rather engaging in those Brooks-derived antics. This leaves the project as a whole in a weird middle ground where its identity is entirely built around its revered subject and yet its most effective comedy comes from an entirely separate source. Ultimately, it works fine as an homage and as a farce, but not quite as a parody. Fans of Hitchcock or Brooks will surely find moments that tickle their fancy, but less attuned viewers might find themselves scratching their heads in confusion. Anyway, apparently Hitchcock liked it.