Hands up where I can see 'em!
♪
Good gravy, it's Harriet Tubman!
The inventor of the... tub?
How did these dumb asses enslave us?
♪
Roll it!
- I'm Kublai Khan. - Amelia Earhart.
The Romanovs!
SIGMUND FREUD: I am Sigmund Freud.
Join me for my Masturbate.
Masterclass. What?
- Who are you? - Some call me Jesus Christ, son of God.
Some call him broke and corny.
♪
Oh, hello!
Okay, that's actually crazy.
Mwah! [cheering]
Noah, you were supposed to get two of every animal.
I got two Chihuahuas. Two pugs.
I got three pugs. Don't tell God.
♪
MEL BROOKS: Hello. I'm American treasure Mel Brooks.
To some of you, I'm a hero.
To others, merely a legend.
Over 40 years ago, I wrote and directed
History of the World, Part I,
a sketch comedy movie that showed
the real side of history.
I also starred in it. Maybe a mistake.
So when I was approached by somebody named Hulu
to make a sequel, I had two conditions.
One, they had to make me look
exactly how I did in 1981.
And here I am. Exactly what I looked like.
Who knew there were muscles here?
Anyway, my other stipulation was all original material.
Nothing from Part I, no repeats.
So, without further ado,
I present to you...
History of the World, Part II!
Hey, guys! Look at me! I'm swole.
♪ triumphant brass music ♪
History of the World, Part II!
♪ theme ends ♪
The Civil War.
♪
[distant cannon fire]
The Civil War was in its final days.
We're talking about the one in the 1860s,
not the one coming up in 2024.
[cannon blast]
The South was on its last legs as the Union Army closed in,
and at the head of that army was the lushly bearded Ulysses S. Grant.
Who was also a bit of a lush.
- General Grant. - [chuckling] Hi, Pam, how are ya?
Big win out there.
What is going through your mind right now? [sighs]
Well, we lost 4,000 men out there. They're dead.
But we did kill 6,000 of their guys,
but a lot of their guys were related to our guys,
so it's a lot of mixed emotions right now, Pam.
They say the war is almost over.
If the North wins, will you go to Disneyland?
Well, that depends, do they have a bar? [laughs] JK.
I'll hang you both if you dump that on me.
Great to see you, Pam. Take care.
SOLDIER 1: Please don't take my arm, sir. I'm a drummer.
Can I get a dull saw?
SOLDIER 2: Tell me, doc, will it hurt?
DOCTOR: When we amputate your head? Yeah. [slow fiddle playing]
SOLDIER 3: Play Devil Went Down to Georgia!
SOLDIER 4: We don't have the rights! SOLDIER 3: Just do a sound alike!
♪ lively fiddling ♪
Hold on, everyone. Daddy's comin'.
Daddy's home. Come to Papa.
- SOLDIER 5: Sir! - [spits] What is it?!
President Lincoln is in your quarters, sir!
I know! Dismissed. [distant explosion]
[sighs]
Fuck!
♪ gentle music ♪
[fire crackling]
[static]
- Mr. President. - Oh, there he is!
H-h-hey-- Oh! [clang]
Stephen Douglas' dick hole!
- [groans] - Are you okay, sir?
Yes, I'm fine.
- Have a seat, Ulysses, have a seat. - Alright.
[sighs] Oh. [horse whinnies outside]
Mr. President, you look exhausted.
This war has taken a toll on you, sir.
It's not the war. It's my height.
I mean, look at me!
They don't make things for a big boy like me!
I mean-- [grunts]
Look at these pants, Ulysses.
Look at that! They're basically capris.
I'm a big boy! I need big boy pants!
I will say they look kind of fun,
somethin' you could wear at a summer party, maybe.
Look, anyways.
I have heard some grumblings
and that your imbibing has gotten a bit out of control.
- My imbibing? Who told you that? - Mm-hmm.
Was it Sheridan? Because he's addicted to laudanum.
Look, I don't drink a lot, you know?
Like, maybe, like, a little bit, like, on a holiday or some--
[flask clanking]
[sighs]
I believe today is what the Hebrews call Pesach, sir.
No more alcohol until the war is over!
Do you understand me, Ulysses?
[roars]
[spits, sighs]
Yeah, sure, fine. I don't need a drink. [clatters]
- [sighs] - Good.
Alright, there is one more thing that I need to talk to you about.
It's about my son, Robert Todd.
Your son.
He has been begging me to enlist, and now that the war
is nearly over, I feel like this is the perfect time to just...
- get him in there. - Once all the regular fighters have...
- Yes, yes, abs-- - ...given their lives
and bled and lost their legs, now you wanna sneak in your little Harvard boy
for a couple days on the course.
Yes! No, you understand!
- Gotcha, gotcha, okay. - Absolutely. He's a good boy.
You know, I want you to look after him.
Mr. President, I want you to know,
I won't let the boy out of my sight.
Oh, good, good, good. Robert Todd! [glass shattering]
- Oh, Jesus! Good lord! - Goddammit!
I have legs for arms!
That was a gift from my wife. [clang]
Ow! Goddammit!
RT!
♪
General Grant, sir!
It is an honor, sir!
I have been a huge fan my entire life!
- And how long is that, young man? - One score and two years.
That means 22 in our secret language.
- Come on over here! Come over here. - Right.
There's my big, strong boy. Watch this.
I trained him well. Look at this.
What do I have? You've trained for this.
- What do I have? - My nose.
Yes! Can you get it? Can you reattach it?
[horse whinnying]
First try. Good job, son.
Seems like a great kid.
He's in good hands, Mr. President.
Alright. [sighs]
♪ somber music ♪
The Union state is in your hands, Ulysses.
End this war.
Yes, Mr. President.
[pats shoulder] [horse whinnying]
And I have every soldier in the entire state of Virginia
on orders to deny you alcohol. Is that understood?
[both growl]
- Yes, sir. - Good.
[smack] Goddammit!
That is gonna be the worst thing
that's gonna happen to my head all year.
- Thanks for comin' by, sir. - Good to see you.
♪
General Grant, sir.
Would you do me the honor of regaling me
with your most horrifying war stories?
I mean, I really wanna know what it's like to see the-the light
drain out of a man's eye by your own hand.
[click] General, no!
Ah! Damn it!
Who drank all my gun whiskey?!
[angry growl] Okay.
Think, Ulysses, think.
♪
I have decided
that you are ready to join me on a top-secret mission,
but I'm warning you right now.
It's gonna be very, very whiskey.
Risky. Are you in?
I will follow you to the gates of Hell, sir.
It's worse than that, son.
We're goin' to West Virginia.
No... No...
♪ dramatic sting ♪
No!
[gong clanging]
MEL: The Kama Sutra.
♪ sitar music ♪
Thank you for having me to, uh, pitch my new book idea.
- Well, thank you for coming. We're big fans. - Ah.
I'm a simple guy. [soft laugh]
I like eating soup. I like having sex.
If I'm not going "slurp, slurp, slurp,"
I'm eating soup.
- [both laugh] - I like that.
And so, this really brings my two passions together.
I have created hundreds of tasty soup recipes
and paired them with the perfect corresponding sexual position.
I call it Kama Souptra, From Soup to Nuts!
BOTH: From soup to nuts!
Oh, okay. Well, that's very clever.
Alright, here we go. First one.
Lamb stew, you know, paired with the simple missionary.
It's warm. It's comforting. Everyone likes it.
Now we're getting a little more fun.
Leek soup. For obvious reasons, you're gonna need a tarp for this one.
Ooh! Love this one.
Summer gazpacho. That's when you and your lover share a chilled soup
while fucking on a cold tile counter.
Wait, that looks so much like your wife.
That is my wife! And that's my neighbor Prakash.
- Oh. - Moving on.
[gasps] Let me guess. That's chowder.
That's exactly right. And before you ask,
this position pairs just as well with New England or Manhattan chowder.
♪ sitar continues ♪
Spinach artichoke. It's vegan,
pairs well with a nice light choking.
See, I've always been a little reluctant to go there.
Oh yeah, people are afraid to go vegan, but it's very satisfying.
Ooh! Uh, this is a slow-cook recipe for a tantric mushroom and barley soup.
For when you wanna take 12 hours to climax.
- Oh. What does that taste like? - Who does that?
It tastes like your wife fucking the neighbor.
- Oh, Prakash. - Prakash.
VATSYAYANA: Yeah, Prakash sucks. Anyways,
since we don't want this to be a tantric meeting,
should I just fly through a bunch of 'em?
[laughs] Keep it moving?
Here we go.
Egg drop soup. No muss, no fuss, for when you wanna make a baby.
This is a simple recipe for tortellini,
the butthole of pastas. It's fun,
but you're gonna need some oil and good communication.
Italian wedding. That's when fuck your aunt
while she yells at your cousin for not becoming a cop.
Butternut squash!
That's when she butters your nuts till you squash.
I have many more. Should I keep going or...
I don't think that's gonna be necessary.
♪ somber music ♪
Because we love it! [publishers laughing]
- You do? - We just have one little note.
- Yes. - Okay,
we don't want the soup. We just want the sex positions.
Okay, that's actually crazy
because the soup is what's gonna make this book
a best seller for a thousand years.
BOTH: Mm...
You know what? I am not a pornographer.
I do not make art to get people off.
I make art to get people off and fill their bellies
with a nice bowl of soup, stew, chowder, or bisque.
If you don't get that, maybe this is not the place for me.
PUBLISHER: Oh, oh...
- So we're just gonna steal the idea, right? - Absolutely.
♪ sitar music concludes ♪
MEL: The Russian Revolution.
♪ Russian music, singing ♪
Russia, 1918.
The Romanov family clings to power
as Vlad Lenin and the Bolsheviks
lead the communist revolution.
Meanwhile, in the countryside,
my people did what they had done for centuries.
Be poor Jews.
- Real estate! Real estate! - Get your dream hut...
BOTH: From Property Brothers Karamazov!
Bot seeds! Bot seeds!
You can't have a Russian bot farm without bot seeds!
Serf-boards!
Put your serf on a board!
Mud pies! Get your mud pies!
Get your mud pies from me, Schmuck Mudman!
Made with the abject suffering
and eczema of the Jewish diaspora.
All you need to do is add war-der. [laughs]
[goats bleat, chickens cluck]
Joshy, my sweet son, come, come help me
with the family business! [annoyed groan]
I don't care about the family business, Dad!
All I care about is falling in love,
and I'll never meet the girl of my dreams
if I'm selling... mud pies.
That's not true. I met your mother selling mud pies!
Her father came in, bought one,
got absolutely horrible food poisoning, and, as punishment,
he made me marry his most difficult daur-der.
I don't want an arranged marriage.
I can arrange that.
Joshy, don't you see that when you submit
to a higher force, good things can happen?
It's all about submission.
♪ Fiddler on the Roof -style music ♪
♪ Submission, submission! ♪
♪ When you yield to a superior force ♪
Hey, shut up! Sha!
Sha! Stop the song. We need to talk. [song ends]
Go inside now.
And so, the song has come to its natural conclusion.
Right behind you, my sour pickle. [chickens clucking]
Bert, watch my mud pies.
Sure. SCHMUCK: Thank you.
♪
- Look! - Oh no!
- Mets continue slump? - No!
The idiot Tsar and his parasitic family have been executed.
♪ intense Russian music ♪
[cranking]
Ugh. This is, like, really when I miss my servants.
Okay.
Hey, you guys! It's me, your girl, Princess Anastasia.
For today's tutorial, I feel like I've been seeing a lot of comments
that you guys are like pretty downtrodden and like poor or whatever.
So, I figured I would show you [coughing]
how to de-contour your cheeks
so that your face can look like it has like food
[coughing continues] or like, I don't know, shelter.
- MAN: Anastasia, your lunch is here! - You guys!
You're being so loud right now! [coughing]
I'm recording!
Ah, kids!
Why the long faces?
We are not inbred like the Hapsburgs.
We are the Romanovs!
We only sleep with beautiful relatives!
Ew, Dad, boundaries.
[sighs] How long is this revolution gonna last?
I wanna go back to the Winter Palace.
This merchant's house is so last season.
It'll just be a matter of time before we are reinstated
as the rightful rulers of Russia!
The people love us, and what's not to love?
With our leaky blood and weak bones?
[coughing]
Oh lord, the Prince is getting sicker.
What else are we gonna do?
We wrapped his scrotum in garlic bulbs,
like our family doctor prescribed.
Speaking of, where the devil is he?
MAN'S VOICE [echoing]: Did someone say "the Devil"?
[farting]
Who farted?
- [aroused]: Oh! - [aroused]: Yes...
My dear Rasputin.
The only mystic in Russia that I trust with my medical and political advice.
NICHOLAS: Ah, Rasputin!
I heard some noble stabbed you!
A mere tickle.
Rasputin.
Our son Alexi's health declines,
and we're in desperate need of your...
healing powers.
Huh.
Okay, up.
[speaking Russian]
Follow my hand.
[Rasputin babbling]
[Alexi shuddering]
Okay. So, my diagnosis
is that your son's body
is being haunted by Moldovan demons.
- [Alexandra gasping] - Fucking Moldovan.
Anything else?
That about covers it.
I'm off!
Long live the Romanovs! [fart]
Ew! Ras-P-U-tin!
Who'da known he'd be my favorite Putin.
[loud knocking] Ah!
The White Army.
It's about time.
You've come to escort us to the Winter Palace?
[gasps] Eeeee!
Just, like, really load it up.
[gunshots blasting] Go all along the natural--
Guys! Can you please stop shooting out there? [scoffs]
We're shooting in here. [scoffs] [guns shooting]
Oh, my God, you guys! [projector whirring]
You know what, one second. [opens door]
[screams] Oh, my God.
Okay, you guys, I'm like literally dead right now
because my whole family is literally dead right now.
I feel like I have to go into hiding.
So, um... Watch this space and follow along with my journey.
Hashtag Last Romanov.
But most importantly, before I go, please do not forget
to use my code "Anastasia" for 10% off your next Putzmates order,
you guys, okay? It's really important. Okay, I love you.
War and Peace, bye!
MEL: The Discovery of Fire.
♪ gentle music ♪
[birds chirping]
[grunts]
[cavewomen grunting]
[laughing grunts]
[excited grunting]
[disappointed, explanatory grunting]
[puffing]
[scoffs, explanatory grunting]
[realizing grunts]
♪
[frustrated grunting]
[screaming]
[disappointed grunting]
[realizing, explanatory grunting]
[interrupting grunting]
[overlapping grunts]
[staccato grunts]
[disapproving grunts] [frustrated grunts]
[imitating grunts] Stephanie!
[mocking grunting]
[grunting]
♪ epic music ♪
[annoyed grunting]
[grunting gets louder]
[yelling]
[screaming]
[sheepish grunt] [relieved grunt]
[laughter]
[cavewomen grunting]
[confused grunts]
♪ psychedelic music ♪
CAVEWOMAN 1: Wait, now that I'm looking at that painting,
I, like, really get it.
Wait, can I just say something?
It is so funny they call us cave people.
I've never been in a cave. CAVEWOMEN: Oh, me neither! Yeah, same!
I don't even know where there is one! [laughs]
Hey, do you guys ever feel like... like your life is a movie?
More like a TV show.
Oh, yeah.
Look, there's a whole crew right there.
You can see it in the reflection of my glasses.
[cavewomen giggling]
♪ harpsichord music ♪
MEL: William Shakespeare.
MAN: It's just dirty, murky trough water with a little bit of lemon.
And then I don't eat till... my first meal is lunch.
[knocking]
Hey, uh, is this the writer's room for Shakespeare?
Uh, yeah. You the new guy?
Yes, I am.
I'm a man, as evidenced by my low voice.
Sorry I'm late. Sorry I'm late, everyone.
Nanny called in sick.
She's got the plague.
So, read the latest draft of Hamlet.
Some good stuff, some good stuff.
Does Shakespeare like it?
Yeah...
Is Shakespeare in love?
No. No, not yet.
Keep pushing.
Yes-- Oh, hello. Who are you? Have we met?
Oh, um, I'm a writer from the Oxford Lampoon.
I'm a man.
My penis itches.
Mm. I was skeptical until he said that.
Okay, so here's what I'd like to do.
I would like to gray sky for a bit.
Just throw some ideas around.
See what sticks. No judgments.
Francis Bacon, take us on our journey.
Oh. Okay. Uh, it's pretty crazy,
but, um, what if we do a play,
okay, but it's got music and singing?
So what you're suggesting, if I'm hearing it right,
is that people stop,
in the middle of a show, and start singing
something to the equivalent of...
♪ I'm so sad ♪
♪ Because my uncle killed my dad ♪
♪ Hamlet! ♪
That's fucking awful.
Okay, anyone else have a pitch?
Maybe a good idea, perchance?
What about an interracial love story?
An English lady and a Black guy,
but it's not about race,
and we called it, uh, I don't know, Othello.
Oh, let me start off by saying this.
I am an ally,
but I don't think it's my story to tell.
So, if you wanna develop it, I would absolutely support that,
but just remember,
it was conceived in this room,
was it not? Yes, t'was.
So, technically, I own it. It's a Shakespeare!
This motherfucker.
- Anything else? - Um,
I have a love story. It's about two white people.
See? Now, that's relatable.
WOMAN DRESSED AS BOY: So, they're star-crossed lovers,
and they're in a small town, like Verona.
Ooh, Italy is hot right now.
And their houses hate each other, but they fall in love anyway.
And then they die tragically in the end.
Okay, that's not quite working for me yet,
but let me just spitball on it for a second.
Okay...
What if they're ill-fated paramours
from two different
families...
and they come from, I want to say...
Verona, maybe?
Right?
And they die in a sad way.
And we shall call it
Friends with Benefits.
I love that. SHAKESPEARE: Thank you.
Dynamite idea, boss. SHAKESPEARE: Thank you.
- But, isn't that what I just pitched? - No. You pitched me a lump of coal,
and I, out of the kindness of my heart,
took it and made it into a diamond.
Okay, what you actually did was,
I said an idea, then you repeated it as if it was your own idea--
[banging]
♪ harpsichord music ♪
You don't understand!
The pressure I'm under!
I have to produce!
I have to make sure the costumes are hot! And heavy!
I have to cast men
that look like pretty little women!
Ooh, little women. That could be something.
That could be something awful!
You know what? I'm sorry.
I'm just... [sighs]
I'm rife with hunger.
What are we doing for lunch?
Uh... we ordered Chipotle.
Goddammit.
[grunts]
Alas, poor Yorick!
It's fine. I-I barely knew him anyway.
♪ harpsichord fading out ♪
♪ Russian music ♪
MEL: Rasputin.
The mystical Russian priest
who had a powerful mental hold on the Romanov family.
This didn't sit well with some of the nobles,
so they decided to kill him.
Which, by the way, wasn't so easy.
♪ Jackass theme ♪
I'm Rasputin, and this is getting stabbed in the back
and thrown in the River Neva.
♪ Jackass theme ♪
[stabbing, slicing] Oh! Ow! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
[laughing]
NOBLE: Throw him in!
[laughter]
♪ Jackass theme fades out ♪
MEL: The Russian Revolution.
♪ Russian music ♪
Now, back in the shtetl...
SCHMUCK'S WIFE: Isn't it great? Those Romanov pigs are dead!
The proletariat rules Russia.
We must go to Moscow and join the revolution!
My beautiful, absolutely faithful wife,
have you lost your mind?
How could we leave all of this behind?
Nice. Dad just rhymed. Here comes another song.
♪ We'll pack our bag and move off to the city ♪
♪ Where a dream life in the ghetto waits for you ♪
♪ Let the goyim have this rural life so shitty ♪
What?
♪ This shtetl stinks, it's no place ♪
♪ For a Jew ♪
♪ Fiddler on the Roof -style music ♪
♪ I rather like the easy lifestyle of the shtetl ♪
♪ Where every murderous Cossack knows your name ♪
♪ Why seek out that thing fear? ♪
♪ We've got plenty of it here ♪
♪ My dear, the city's no place for a Jew ♪
- There's no place for you. - Well, that could be.
♪ Schmuck, you're a schmendrik, you're a putz ♪
♪ You've got more mud than brains or guts ♪
♪ Better a living shtetl schmendrik ♪
♪ Than a dead big city Bolshevik ♪
Bullshit!
- Fanny, language! - Sorry.
♪ dramatic music ♪
♪ See, this is what I'm saying ♪
♪ This Cossack wants us dead ♪
♪ This Cossack has a name, his name is Fred ♪
- Hi, Fred. - Hi.
♪ I've known this anti-Semite for most of my whole life ♪
♪ He's the one who stabbed your father! ♪
♪ I stabbed him with my knife ♪
♪ Stabbed him with his knife ♪
♪
♪ This Cossack's not a killer ♪
♪ Just peckish, the poor goy ♪
♪ Keep your hands off me, you filthy stinking Jew ♪
See?
♪ But I've got just the ticket, the delicious Mudman pie ♪
♪ A little nosh to brighten up your genocidal mood ♪
[Fred gagging and coughing]
♪
Oh, uh, charades!
He wants to do charades! Okay.
[gagging continues] Okay.
SCMUCK/FANNY: First word.
- I! - I! Joshy, you're so smart!
And don't get me started on that body. FANNY: Good.
- [coughs] - Second word.
Uh... Oh!
Kill! Kill! Kill, kill, kill. SCHMUCK: Good job, Joshy.
[gagging] Uh, third word. Uh...
Oh. A sheep? [sheep bleats]
Yes, oh! But, a female sheep.
[whistling]
- Yes... A ewe! - Ewe?
"I kill you!"
Fourth word.
- Shoe. - Shoe?
"I kill you shoes."
He hates shoes! JOSH: I kill you, shoes.
Oh, oh, oh!
"I kill you, Jews!"
SCHMUCK: There it is. FANNY: I told you, see?
Yeah, you were right, okay. [coughing]
And...
[crash]
[sheep bleats] Alright.
FANNY: Oh.
SCHMUCK: Well, let's pack our one bag.
♪ The city is the right place ♪
♪ For these Jews! ♪
♪ Fiddler on the Roof- style music ends ♪
But honestly, we should get going if we wanna beat traffic. Let's go.
FANNY: I'm so happy.
MEL: Hitler on Ice!
Hey, didn't I say no repeats?
COMMENTATOR 1: And Adolf Hitler,
not giving the performance he had hoped for tonight.
Mm. The master race isn't lookin' so masterful.
COMMENTATOR 2: Very hard to perform at a high level
when you are losing a two-front war.
Oh! Wow... COMMENTATOR 1: Oh, no...
You know, it really hurts when you fall on the ice like that.
- Absolutely, Trish. - It does.
And that's gonna wrap it up for Adolf Hitler.
Let's go to the floor and see some scores. [crowd cheering]
COMMENTATOR 1: And we're gonna follow him into the kiss and cry booth.
COMMENTATOR 2: And here he is with his longtime coach,
Joseph Goebbels, and his new bride, Eva Braun,
and they are throwing things at him in the audience.
They are throwing dead flowers. And he's waiting for the scores. Here they are.
[crowd cheering]
COMMENTATORS: Wow. Wow! Wow. Wow.
COMMENTATOR 1: As expected, it's a festival of zeros...
[crowd booing] except for the French who gave him a 10,
those Vichy cowards. COMMENTATOR 2: Wow.
TRISH: He got a straight-up "fuck you" from Poland.
I've said it before, I'll say it again,
if you put concentration camps in people's countries,
you better be flawless on the ice.
TRISH: Look at how hysterical he is. COMMENTATOR 2: Wow.
TRISH: See? This is what happens when men are in charge.
COMMENTATOR 2: I don't know about you guys.
I think this is gonna turn into one of those Hitler memes.
Have you guys seen those? TRISH: Mm-hmm.
COMMENTATOR 1: And, oh. COMMENTATOR 2: I see a Luger.
I see a Luger. Wow. COMMENTATOR 1: There's the Luger.
Uh-oh, looks like he's heading back to the bunker with Eva Braun
to blow his psychopathic brains right out of his shit head.
Yeah, I have to imagine that this is his last competition,
and I, for one, am glad about it.
He's a thug and bad for the sport.
And humanity.
The greasy-head motherfucker.
Ho-ho! We're gonna get some letters about that one,
but hashtag "I stand with Trish."
Hashtag "me too."
I don't know about that one.
Absolutely!
And coming up next, we've got men's downhill
with Benito Mussolini.
He can make the trains run on time,
but can he beat his own time on the slopes?
Let's hope he falls down and breaks both of his fuckin' legs.
♪ klezmer music playing ♪
♪