The show began with two ushers smoking at the front of the stage. They welcomed the audience and announced that a brand-new musical was about to open, but they came back singing the same tune, this time announcing the closure of the show.

Max Bialystock, once known as the King of Broadway, soon appeared. I was genuinely happy to see him. Andy Nyman, who had played Governor Thropp in Wicked, was standing right in front of me from my front-row center seat. His costume, however, looked terrible. He still wore a black waistcoat and a top hat that must once have looked elegant, but both were dirty and badly wrinkled. Watching him lament his rise and fall, I finally understood about 20% of the show's personality. Something was different. I also began to realize that the musical was built on sarcasm. Only then did I notice his clear diction and beautiful singing voice. His face still looked exactly like Governor Thropp, so I sometimes felt as if I were watching Wicked instead.

Leo Bloom (Marc Antolin), an accountant, soon arrived. His clothes looked much cheaper than Max's, but they were clean. He looked happy to be in the producer's office yet was nervous to disclose inconsistencies in the book. As the two discussed taxes and the idea that a flop could make more money than a hit, Max became increasingly excited while Leo firmly refused to take part. Their slapstick exchanges made one thing clear. This was a comedy before it was a musical. By then I felt that I understood about 40% of the show.

The office scene was also entertaining. Leo calculated numbers in perfect sync with the ensemble. He stormed out of the office, only to return to Max a moment later. The pacing was fast, and the show never slowed down.

An even funnier moment came when Ulla (Joanna Woodward) arrived for her audition, or rather, her "oo-dition." She pretended that she could not dance, and I almost believed her. In Act 2, however, she danced alongside the ensemble and immediately showed what she could really do. At first she looked like an attractive but empty-headed woman. By the end, she remained loyal to both Leo and Max, making her a far more impressive character than I had expected.

When Leo tried to wear the top hat hanging on the left wall of the office, Max stopped him. "That's a producer's hat." It looked like a throwaway joke at the time, but it became an important payoff near the end of the show.

The biggest surprise was the completely unapologetic praise of Hitler and the appearance of Nazi flags. Is this really allowed? A moment later, though, the scene with the flock of pigeons was genuinely funny. A few moments after that, Franz Liebkind (Harry Morrison), who was clearly insane, made his entrance. That was when I started to worry. I also learned that the front-row center seat is not always the best seat in the house. Franz delivered his lines in a frenzy while spraying saliva everywhere. Watching him perform from only a few feet away certainly felt immersive, but avoiding the occasional shower of spit was not easy. Still, I would say I defended myself quite well. By this point I realized that this was a show that had to be watched with my brain switched off. I probably understood about 90% of what it was trying to be.

The plan was simple. They needed the worst possible show. To achieve that, they hired Roger de Bris (Trevor Ashley), a director famous for having no talent, and decided to ruin Franz's script before putting it on stage. The visit to Roger's house is difficult to describe in words. The audience simply stared at an actor recreating David without even laughing.

Roger's entourage was just as remarkable. The choreographer explained his choreography by lazily rotating his hands instead of actually dancing. The more incompetent everyone appeared, the happier Max became. At the same time, Max cleverly appealed to Roger's vanity until he finally agreed to direct. Tony Award? Who says no to that? And they could keep it gay too.

The scene in which they raised two million dollars is difficult to describe in words. It has to be seen. At the theatre entrance, a poster read: "If you like our show, tell everyone. But if you think it stinks, keep your big mouth shut!" After seeing the show, I would add one more line. Even if you think it stinks, give it a go at least once. It is bizarre. That is exactly why I could not stop watching. The money had been raised, and Act 1 ended in spectacular fashion.

Act 2 opened with a scene between Leo and Ulla charged with an odd, suggestive tension. It did not last long. Max returned, followed by an endless parade of Hitlers auditioning for the role. My mind quickly gave up again. Franz, now even more unhinged, decided to play Hitler himself and launched into "Haben Sie Gehört Das Deutsche Band?" The song was so entertaining that I found myself clapping along. Is this really allowed?

Then came countless "Good luck!" wishes. Someone finally said, Break a leg. Franz, the leading actor, immediately broke his leg. At that moment I reached 100% understanding. I also gave up trying to find any political logic or ideological consistency in the show. It mocked everything. Nothing was sacred. The only sensible approach was to sit back and enjoy it.

Roger played an outrageously coy Hitler. His scenes with Carmen Ghia (Raj Ghatak) were hilarious, but the ensemble surrounding them was even funnier.

The show within the show became an enormous success. Max and Leo entered in tears. Now there was only one thing left to do: face the tax investigation and go to prison. An enraged Franz burst in with a gun, intending to shoot them. Instead, Max persuaded him to shoot an actor so that the production would finally fail. Goodness. Leo escaped by hiding inside a safe. The police arrived and arrested Max. Franz tried to run away and broke his other leg. Broke two legs. Let's not do more. Ulla pulled Leo out of the safe and suggested that they take the two million dollars and escape to Rio.

Max's prison number, "Betrayed," was one of the funniest songs in the entire show. After becoming successful, his clothes had become clean and elegant again. Once he entered prison, they immediately returned to their old wrinkled state. The lyrics were equally ridiculous. He called Leo a traitor and compared him to Cain, Delilah, and Iago. That was normal enough. Then, without warning, the song jumped to Hakuna Matata, Total Eclipse of the Heart, Bonnie Tyler, Dai Dai, and even Shakira & Burna Boy. I could only laugh. Why are those in the lyrics?

Then came the verdict. The judge says, "I find the defendant extremely guilty." Leo returned to court dressed in a tourist outfit, with Ulla by his side, to defend Max. As Ulla was sworn in, she revealed her name — an absurdly long string of middle names before finally arriving at her full name: Ulla ... Bloom. It made no difference to the verdict. Both men were sentenced to five years in Sing Sing Prison. She and Leo had married. She stayed by his side until the very end. Of course, the two million dollars were confiscated.

But this is The Producers. That could not possibly be the ending. The prisoners were eventually pardoned for entertaining their fellow inmates, and the prison musical Prisoners of Love became a Broadway blockbuster. See? You can still make money after becoming successful, as long as you do not manipulate the books. Roger and Ulla became stars. As for the actor who had recreated David earlier, I will say no more. You simply have to see it yourself.

Near the end, Max finally placed the top hat on Leo's head. "You've earned it."

During the curtain call, the cast threw money into the audience. From my front-row center seat, several one-hundred-dollar bills landed right in front of me. I picked them up, shared them with the people around me, and collected a few more that had fallen near the stage before handing those out as well. I could have made about a thousand dollars! The bills even read, "In Good Copy We Trust."

Even before the show began, the pre-show announcement had joked that if a fire broke out, the actors and staff would escape safely, so the audience should take care of themselves. As the exit music came to an end, Andy Nyman appeared on stage once more and shouted, "Why are you still here? Go!" What else could I do? I left.

Even after walking out of the theatre, one thought stayed with me. Am I really supposed to like this show? Then I realized that uncomfortable feeling was part of The Producers itself.