Coo, coo cachoo! As (my) luck would have it, I enter Anne Bancroft's pristine all-white bedroom only to find the startled star with her blouse halfway unbuttoned. Mrs. Robinson couldn't have done it better. And just like Mrs. R., Mrs. B. (for Brooks, as in Mel) gives me a polite but steely greeting. You see, Bancroft's assistant has asked me to help bring up the Armani outfits for the photo shoot taking place later in the afternoon, but once I see the shocked look on Bancroft's face, I decide to wait downstairs by the (seldom used) indoor swimming pool and the hundreds of pictures of Mel and Anne, smiling, smiling, smiling. A smile remains on the face of the 64-year-old star (who is still stylishly svelte and only slightly ravaged after all these years) as she eventually descends the staircase of her Spanish-style manse. It is as if our earlier meeting has never occurred.

How many times have you seen The Graduate?

I only saw it once, a couple of years ago. I just loved it. But I had to wait that long to be able to see it objectively.

And exactly how many times have you seen Spaceballs?

I don't know exactly, but it's not much.

Do people often ask you how Mel Brooks managed to snag Anne Bancroft?

Never.

How surprising.

Well, I did go for looks at one time, when I was 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30. . . .

Then you saw the light.

That's when Mel came into my life. I was very disappointed in men then. I had many men. But I got tired of good-looking jerks. [Laughs]

You have a son who's just about the same age as Benjamin is in The Graduate. Could you imagine seducing one of his friends today?

No. I have chosen other ways out of my anger. But we're all handed a bill of goods, aren't we? And everybody's mother has got to have been inept.

Who would you cast as Mrs. Robinson today?

Jessica Lange.

Do you get tired of being considered a sexual icon?

You're full of bologna.

But you will always be known for that role.

There's always a new crop of young boys coming up and young boys will always have anxiety about sex. That's why I've spent 25 years trying to break away from that role.

But your characters have generally used sex as a positive thing.

I suppose you're right.

You don't like to talk about sex, do you?

It's a private and intimate thing. And it belongs in that part of the psyche.

But don't you think sex is also something that you can laugh at?

Well, you have to! A funny situation is a funny situation. It doesn't matter if it's about sex or about baking a cake.

You're Italian, right?

Yes.

Not Jewish, which you play quite well.

No. [Laughs] Come to think of it, I don't think I've ever played Italian. Mel is Jewish.

You were married once before Mel, weren't you?

For a short time. But then I met Mel one night when we were both doing The Perry Como Show. After that he followed me everywhere I went for three days.

You're starring in two films this season, How to Make an American Quilt and Home for the Holidays. You have very fiery roles in both.

Well, in a way the roles are similar. Both stories are about the way the younger generation is affected by the older generation.

You seem to have a lot of fun onscreen these days.

Do I?

Smoking pot and so forth.

Well, that's a particular character in Quilt! And I don't think she's a woman who holds back her feelings.

You also seem to be an exception in Hollywood, having found a lot of good women's roles.

Yeah. Those juices are running.

The Turning Point, Agnes of God, and, not La Femme Nikita but . . . Point of No Return.

[Laughs] Listen, you should always keep a younger person around, to remember things for you. Besides, you want somebody at your funeral too.

You want a big funeral?

Yeah, I do.

Who do you want to sing at it?

Oh God. I'd like my husband to sing at it.

Does he sing?

Does he sing? Remember High Anxiety?

Didn't see it.

He also sang in To Be or Not to Be, which you probably didn't see, either.

You can get the whip out now.

I'll let you go.

Tell me what it was like to be given your statuette by Joan Crawford, when you won the Oscar for The Miracle Worker, in 1963.

Well . . .

Remember, she's dead.

She was beautifully gowned, beautifully coiffed, perfectly made-up, she looked exquisite. And she was shaking like a leaf from head to toe. I had to calm her.

No kidding.

You can stay in the movies too long, you know.

But you're only, what, a quarter of the way through your career?

[Laughs] Half.