An entire flight crew and half the passengers are near death! All due to a bad fish dinner, no less. Will the Trans-American flight make it to Chicago to save the girl with the heart transplant? Who’ll land the friggin’ plane?! The protagonist, played by Robert Hays, asks the only onboard doctor, Leslie Nielsen, for an assessment of the situation. Nielsen can only respond grimly.
Hays then exclaims, “Surely, you can’t be serious?” Nielsen responds, deadpan: “I am serious. And don’t call me Shirley.” A career was not born, it was reborn for the Hollywood veteran. Even today, 28 years later, when people pass Nielsen on the street, “Everyone wants me to call them Shirley,” he says, laughing. It was the opening salvo in one of the most surprising successful second acts in cinematic history that immortalized Nielsen’s unique comic persona.
In a recent exclusive interview with Royal Flush, the vibrant 83-year-old comedic genius reflected on his unique trajectory, from childhood pranks in Saskatchewan to his luck at being cast in 1980 comedic masterpiece Airplane!
Nielsen is best known for his series of films with creators David Zucker, Jerry Zucker and Jim Abrahams, which defined his comedic persona: The Naked Gun: From the Files of Police Squad, Police Squad! and Airplane. But Airplane! was the biggest leap for the actor, who was previously best known for his dramatic work. “You get really lucky sometimes, and I got really lucky with Airplane!” Nielsen says now about his casting in the highly influencial comedy classic.
Airplane’s creative partners, who had previously cast Nielsen in 1977’s Kentucky Fried Movie, were in total control of the casting process. Nielsen remembers that “they had in mind that I should play the doctor in it for no good reason… It happened to turn out that they had me in the movie saying lines that were funny, funny stuff and they spotted me for being the clown I really am and all of a sudden I started doing funnier and funnier stuff and started to do a lot more work for them.” He wasn’t the only dramatic actor playing against type in the flick. Peter Graves and Lloyd Bridges, among others, were making the leap, but from his entrance, make no mistake, Royal Flush readers, Nielsen steals the movie.
The quartet quickly became occupationally inseparable, collaborating on the two other legs of what Nielsen calls “my pyramid,” Police Squad and The Naked Gun: From the Files of Police Squad. According to Nielsen, “the Zuckers and Jim Abrahams spotted me as someone who seemed to be going on the same road that they went on and they put me in the Police Squad series.” He continues with obvious pride that “I feel like I was a king and that was the place that is preserved for me.”
Nielsen starred on Police Squad as Det. Frank Drebin. Mixing an anticipation of ‘90’s irony with a resurrection of silent film’s slapstick deadpan ethos, the show was a parody of 1950s cop dramas like M Squad and Dragnet. According to a laughing Nielsen, there is one key difference between his show and its inspiration: “M Squad was a serious half- hour drama on television and Police Squad was an unserious serious half- hour drama on television.”
Nielsen remembers, in his irrepressible monotone, punctuated by slight chuckles, “We were only allowed to do five shows before Paramount took us off the air, but that was really a big mistake because a couple of years later they sent me a script called Naked Gun. And away we went and we had nothing but fun.” Despite its quick cancellation, Nielsen believes that the show would have been more successful today. “I think it would work even now because I don’t think anything that’s funny is going to die that fast.”
Nielsen remembers, “David Zucker had fifteen rules he wrote in book form. He got to 14 and then to 15 and he said the 15th rule is that there ain’t no rules. If your rules seem to be predictable and right, chances are you’re not doing anything funny.” The Naked Gun movies succeed brilliantly on this desire to subvert as many conventions as possible.
Unfortunately, it looks like there are no plans for another installment, not only due to the inevitable O.J. Simpson questions—he had a well-reviewed recurring role in the series as the fun-loving Nordberg. Nielsen admits it “would be a little tricky.” But, he says, “They could have me. I wouldn’t be dying my hair.” He definitely doesn’t think there is anyone who could replace on-screen girlfriend Priscilla Presley, declaring: “I just thought she was wonderful and she kept on getting better all the time and she was a very talented and sweet, lovely gal.“
Rummaging through his memories, Nielsen sounds so gleeful, it’s clear that his experiences on the Zucker-Abrahams films have been some of his happiest. In many ways, it comes out of his early days. And Nielsen has kept one lesson from those days close to his heart. Nielsen remembers legendary acting teacher Lee Strasberg saying, “When the actor is doing drama versus when he is doing comedy, he must perform the comedy slightly more seriously than the drama and that’s the truth of it, too.”
Nielsen’s current iteration as the Buster Keaton of modern screwball would have shocked anyone who knew his early work. After arriving in New York City at 19 from Canada, Nielsen began studying at the Neighborhood Playhouse, one of New York’s most prestigious acting centers, in 1945.
The budding thespian’s first job in New York was on the ABC showcase The Actor’s Studio in 1950. Nielsen remembers with a shrug that “I did two different shows, one after the other.” At that point, it was all dramatic roles, none of which he seems to be particularly proud of. A recent viewing of ABC’s prestigious Kraft Television Theater’s 1954 production of The Scarlet Letter, which featured Nielsen as Rev. Dimsdale, illustrated his stolid acting style. Seeing it in light of his later comedic work, he plays it slightly less intensely than Det. Drebin and it’s hard not to wait for hilarity to unfurl around him.
Nielsen’s acting style aptly reflected the time’s and he quickly became an in-demand star. In 1956, he was brought out to Los Angeles to begin his film career. Although it wasn’t a prestigious project, it was certainly historical in its own way. Nielsen chuckles that, “It’s a movie I call Vagabond Turkey… I came on and hopped on a horse and put some armor on and had a great time. That was, I think, the last giant musical that they made at Paramount.”
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