By William Germano. “My husband used to be the concierge,” announces the woman in the window, “but he’s dead. Now I’m the concierge.” Movie fans will recognize the moment in Mel Brooks’s
The Producers when our hapless protagonists approach the residence of the furtive ex-Nazi and pigeon fancier Franz Liebkind, author of the soon-to-be immortal musical “Springtime for Hitler. ”Liebkind’s apartment building is nothing special. It doesn’t have anything as glamorous as a concierge, just an urban denizen who watches the world suspiciously from a streetside window.
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