When Mel Brooks thinks about comedy, he often recalls the blunt words of grammatically incorrect wisdom from Greek actor Andreas Voutsinas, who was featured as Carmen Ghia in the 1968 version of The Producers.

“Andreas would say, ‘Or you got it, or you ain’t,’” Brooks said, impersonating Voutsinas’ thick accent in an on-campus Q&A session last Friday. “That son of a bitch was right.”

King of comedy · The legendary Mel Brooks spoke to students last Friday at the Jack Oakie and Victoria Horne Oakie Masters Lecture Series, where Brooks was awarded the Oakie Foundation Award in honor of his vast career. Blazing Saddles, Young Frankenstein and Spaceballs are among his films. - Photo courtesy of Steve Cohn

But when you’re Brooks — an audacious, unabashed and incredibly prolific comedy writer-director-actor whose career spans five decades and is comprised of a slew of enviable distinctions, including an Academy Award, three films ranked in the top 20 of the American Film Institute’s list of the top 100 comedies and two highly successful Broadway show adaptations — it’s easy to say that being funny is an innate ability.

The iconic funny man behind The Producers, Blazing Saddles and Young Frankenstein, to name a few, displayed his comedic wit with ease when he appeared before a packed audience at Norris Theatre for the Jack Oakie and Victoria Horne Oakie Masters Lecture Series. Now in its second year, the series brings acclaimed filmmakers to speak with students and also honors the work and legacy of actor Jack Oakie, who appeared in an impressive 87 films in his lifetime.

During Friday’s event, Brooks — flanked by his long-time entourage that included producers Michael Gruskoff, Jay Kanter and Alan Ladd Jr. — was presented with the Oakie Foundation Award for his excellence and dedication to comedy.

“[Oakie and Brooks] share many talents: versatile, irreverent, but most of all, very, very funny,” said School of Cinematic Arts Dean Elizabeth Daley in her opening speech.

That last talent was apparent from the moment Brooks stepped onto the stage for his moderated discussion with Writing for Screen and Television division chair Jack Epps Jr., candidly remarking when deciding which chair to sit in, “I have a good side and a bad side.”

Epps persuaded Brooks to begin with his early life as a sickly boy growing up in the Williamsburg neighborhood of Brooklyn, N.Y., where you were the odd one out if you weren’t Jewish.

As if almost by default of living in New York during the ’30s, Brooks became enamored with musical theater at 9 years old, when his uncle took him to a performance of Cole Porter’s Anything Goes. Although Brooks soon found a home in television (Your Show of Shows, Get Smart) with some practice, good fortune and a friendship with Sid Caesar, he maintains that his showbiz dreams are cemented in theater, and his most recent endeavors — adapting The Producers and Young Frankenstein for Broadway — fittingly bookend his vast career.

But despite his talents for lyricism, composition and television writing, Brooks will forever be remembered as the man who turned Adolf Hitler into a LSD-loving hippie, cowboys into gas machines and Darth Vader into, well, Rick Moranis.

Though it was The Producers that captured him an Oscar, Brooks believes the 1974 monster parody Young Frankenstein is the “best” film in his extensive repertoire. Securing monetary backing for the movie, however, was an arduous process, as Columbia Pictures initially viewed Young Frankenstein as a risk.

“I told Columbia, ‘I’m going to make this in black and white.’ There was silence. They said, ‘You’re kidding! Peru just got color. Bolivia just got color. Spain just got color … We’re not going to make this in black and white,’” Brooks said. “These are, no offense, movie executives. They’re just thinking in terms of loss and profit … So we stuck to our guns and said no to Columbia Pictures.”

One late-night phone call to Ladd at Twentieth Century Fox put Young Frankenstein back in motion and ultimately sealed Brooks’ comedic genius status. Brooks’ attributes the success of Young Frankenstein to the fact that — besides lending his voice as the cat that gets pummeled by a cart — he did not act in the film.

“I wasn’t in it, so I didn’t have to worry about myself. I could concentrate on the beautiful cinematography and the incredible sets,” Brooks explained. “For me, it was a cinematic triumph.”

Although the phrase “cinematic triumph” seems out of place when juxtaposed with a contemporary broad comedy, parody or farce, Brooks’ seemingly silly yet extremely observant films continue to resonate with audiences even decades after their release — and that’s saying something.

“You have to love the genre you’re parodying,” Brooks said. “It’s better to have a picture with some purpose. You can’t just write antic comedy.”

While Brooks’ writing, themes and subjects of parody are often viewed as the high points of his films, Brooks understands the value of casting the right people and acknowledges that many of the laughs in his movies radiate from the interplay between the actors on set.

“It comes from the talent that you’re with. Writing is never written on the page.” Brooks paused and then corrected himself, chuckling as he realized the irony of how perfect his own comedic timing was.

“Timing is never written on the page,” Brooks continued, receiving a chorus of laughter in response.

Discovering, honing and cultivating this timing is a hard feat for many. But when you’re Brooks, life never ceases to be a setup waiting for its punch line.

“When it comes to comedy, there’s no teaching [and] there’s no schools,” Brooks said. “It’s magic.”