Before I tell you why you should watch the new documentary about Mel Brooks, I will tell you that 25 years ago, he told me, “You may be right. I have done everything there is to do in show business. … Everything except to be tall. That’s the one thing I’ve never accomplished, being tall. But I’m looking forward to that.”

He was a relative youngster then, 74 years old, but at a very important point in his life. He was generally regarded as a comedic giant, and why not? He had spent his life making people laugh, first as a Catskills comic and then as part of a glittering writing team (along with Woody Allen and Neil Simon) for Sid Caesar’s pioneering TV programs “Your Show of Shows” and “Caesar’s Hour”; as the co-creator of “Get Smart”; as the 2000 Year Old Man on a series of best-selling comedy albums with pal Carl Reiner; as movie writer, director, producer and actor in such films as “The Producers,” “Young Frankenstein” and “Blazing Saddles.”

But he had not had a critical or box-office hit since his 1977 Hitchcock spoof “High Anxiety.” And there he sat on a cold December day in 2000 in New York, taking a big risk, for many believed that the success or failure of the musical version of “The Producers” he was overseeing would provide the final sentence to his career.

Well, we all know what happened. “The Producers” would open in Chicago, move to Broadway and win a record 12 Tony Awards. The career carried on, and now here is Brooks, as charming, smart and, of course, funny as ever, as the centerpiece of a thoughtfully thrilling documentary now airing on HBO Max. “Mel Brooks: The 99 Year Old Man!,” exclamation point more than justified.

It may be a bit long at almost four hours (in two episodes, now streaming), but it is impossible not to enjoy. Its length is forgivable since one can sense the excitement and affection of filmmaker Judd Apatow, who interviews Brooks at length. Apatow, along with co-director Michael Bonfiglio, has previously also captured in documentary form George Carlin and Garry Shandling.

Drawing on ample archival footage and candid interviews, he and Bonfiglio take us back to the beginning with Brooks (born Melvin Kaminsky), the youngest of four boys of a widowed mother in Brooklyn, all of them off to World War II, all safely returned, with Brooks telling Apatow, “War changed me. If you don’t get killed in the Army, you can learn a lot.”

His career moves to the raucous Sid Caesar writers’ room and we do also hear, rather wistfully, from Brooks’ three children and his first wife, former Broadway dancer Florence Baum, before he was off to moviemaking in California in the early 1960s. His granddaughter Samantha is charming.

You will hear Brooks tell a terrific Cary Grant story (one he has told many times over the years on the various late-night talk shows where he has been a frequent guest) but, more tenderly, tales of his courtship and marriage to actress Anne Bancroft. Gene Wilder shares feelings that go far deeper than director and star. And we get details of Brooks’ long friendship with writer-director Reiner, from the early 1960s to their sharing dinners together as widowers every night watching “Jeopardy” on TV.

Bancroft died in 2005; their son, novelist Max, is tender in interviews. Reiner’s wife Estelle died in 2008 and Reiner in 2020. Hearing Reiner’s son, filmmaker Rob, talk about his father and Brooks gives one a chill, knowing this was one of the final conversations before he and his wife Michele Singer Reiner’s December murders.

The number of people with whom Brooks has shared his creative life will impress and perhaps surprise you. There’s Richard Pryor, who did a bit of writing for “Blazing Saddles,” who says, “He’s a loving man. It’s about love with him.”

The late director David Lynch credits Brooks with saving his career by hiring him to direct “The Elephant Man” after seeing Lynch’s “Eraserhead.” In addition to his own movies, Brooks produced such films, through his Brooksfilms, as “The Fly,” “My Favorite Year,” “Frances” and others, taking a rare low profile lest his name lead moviegoers to think they would be seeing comedies.

Naturally, we hear from a large crowd of showbiz folks and all of them — Ben Stiller, Jerry Seinfeld, Dave Chappelle, Sarah Silverman, Conan O’Brien, Josh Gad, Robert Townsend, Matthew Broderick, Nathan Lane and others — are complimentary. There must be someone in that backbiting swamp that is Hollywood who isn’t a Brooks fan, but such a person is not to be found here.

Whatever your relationship with Brooks beforehand, this film will enrich it. Will you understand what makes him tick? I don’t know, and you won’t care. Just spending time with him is satisfying enough.

His famously quick wit has not lost a step. When Apatow asks, “You lost your father at an early age?” Brooks quickly replies, “No, no. My father died.”

His ability to recall names and places and laughs is, frankly, astonishing. He is not only able to remember but to enjoy, to savor. We should all be so lucky.

In the film, he says, “Sometimes my comedy is just to celebrate the joy of being alive.” And as he has said many times in his many years, he has always used humor as “a defense against the universe.” Few, if any, have done it better.

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(Rick Kogan is a columnist for the Chicago Tribune.)

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