*Spoilers*
Lots of negative comments here about the "bathroom" humor and general naughtiness. Some of it may be valid, but most probably isn't once you know what's going on. The bathroom humor here is about as naughty as Edwardian-era people got in public. What they did elsewhere is, well, human. If you can tolerate most of Mel Brooks' movies, you can handle this without too much trouble.
It helps to be (or in my case, have been) in the holistic therapies trade, in my case Massage Therapy. A lot of folks see some of the odd machinery and treatments portrayed in the movie as absurd today, but in their time it wasn't so. Even today, we still dip hands or feet or other sore areas in hot paraffin wax, use hydrotherapy (hot and/or cold baths), and, in some modalities, use enemas of various types for internal cleansing. There are even stranger treatments around today, which I need not elaborate here. It all probably works about as well today as it did just after the turn of the century.
The film addresses our continuing fascination with treatments for our many maladies. Little has changed in 100 years, in some ways. The book was a bit more serious in tone than this film, but I don't think that detracts from the screenplay. I think the story shows us our addictions and obsessions, whether that is with new diets, exercise, alcohol, drugs, or enemas.
Speaking of which, one of my favorite lines in the film is after Dr. Kellogg's scatological exam of Will:
Dr. K: "I prescribe 15 gallons of yogurt."
Will: "15 gallons?! I can't eat 15 gallons of yogurt!"
Dr. K: "Ohhhhh, your not gonna get it in that end, Mr. Lightbody . .."
The movie seems to have a bit more sex in it than the original book (the whole business with Miss Muntz and Will is missing in the book, among other things), as was a lot of the business with George. I admit the additions made for a more amusing and interesting film.
The side stories here add color. I'm always amazed at how poor Will must have felt, once he busts out of the San and heads for the Tavern, where there's nice thick Porterhouse steaks sizzling and beer and potatoes and gravy. Imagine eating gerbil food and gravel for a week and then heading for, say, Outback. The breakfast food business is enlightening too. Perfoo? Where do they get these names? And then there's the business of Dr. Spitzvogel and "handabung" therapy. I admit I was a bit aghast at finding the former transporter chief O'Brien from Star Trek TNG butt naked in the woods.
Dr. Kellogg was a real person, and was definitely a man of conviction (or obsession depending on your viewpoint) and he had his eccentricities, as many of us do. I'm not certain of all the facts presented in the movie about him, but like anything else probably at least have some basis in truth.
Lots of negative comments here about the "bathroom" humor and general naughtiness. Some of it may be valid, but most probably isn't once you know what's going on. The bathroom humor here is about as naughty as Edwardian-era people got in public. What they did elsewhere is, well, human. If you can tolerate most of Mel Brooks' movies, you can handle this without too much trouble.
It helps to be (or in my case, have been) in the holistic therapies trade, in my case Massage Therapy. A lot of folks see some of the odd machinery and treatments portrayed in the movie as absurd today, but in their time it wasn't so. Even today, we still dip hands or feet or other sore areas in hot paraffin wax, use hydrotherapy (hot and/or cold baths), and, in some modalities, use enemas of various types for internal cleansing. There are even stranger treatments around today, which I need not elaborate here. It all probably works about as well today as it did just after the turn of the century.
The film addresses our continuing fascination with treatments for our many maladies. Little has changed in 100 years, in some ways. The book was a bit more serious in tone than this film, but I don't think that detracts from the screenplay. I think the story shows us our addictions and obsessions, whether that is with new diets, exercise, alcohol, drugs, or enemas.
Speaking of which, one of my favorite lines in the film is after Dr. Kellogg's scatological exam of Will:
Dr. K: "I prescribe 15 gallons of yogurt."
Will: "15 gallons?! I can't eat 15 gallons of yogurt!"
Dr. K: "Ohhhhh, your not gonna get it in that end, Mr. Lightbody . .."
The movie seems to have a bit more sex in it than the original book (the whole business with Miss Muntz and Will is missing in the book, among other things), as was a lot of the business with George. I admit the additions made for a more amusing and interesting film.
The side stories here add color. I'm always amazed at how poor Will must have felt, once he busts out of the San and heads for the Tavern, where there's nice thick Porterhouse steaks sizzling and beer and potatoes and gravy. Imagine eating gerbil food and gravel for a week and then heading for, say, Outback. The breakfast food business is enlightening too. Perfoo? Where do they get these names? And then there's the business of Dr. Spitzvogel and "handabung" therapy. I admit I was a bit aghast at finding the former transporter chief O'Brien from Star Trek TNG butt naked in the woods.
Dr. Kellogg was a real person, and was definitely a man of conviction (or obsession depending on your viewpoint) and he had his eccentricities, as many of us do. I'm not certain of all the facts presented in the movie about him, but like anything else probably at least have some basis in truth.