And Now for Something Completely Different (1971)

 "My hovercraft is full of eels."

This film is, of course, just a load of sketches from the first two series of Monty Python's Flying Circus, barely rewritten at all and reshot with a slightly bigger budget. That, of course, is no bad concept for a film.

Whether the "best" sketches were chosen is, of course, a subjective thing. Any thirteen episode series of half hour shows is going to be, as the cliche goes, hit and miss. There's so much good stuff in those two series, and the film has less than ninety minutes to play with, so it's a shame they went for the killer joke sketch, the rowdy old ladies, and other second tier stuff. I suppose they were pretty much obliged to include the slightly overrated parrot sketch. Nevertheless, we get the two mountaineering sketches, not being seen, the restaurant sketch, defence against fresh fruit, and other top tier stuff/.

Obviously, the film is superb. It couldn't possibly not have been. But what fascinates me, after the passage of fifty-odd years, is how much longer ago 1971 feels than it did the last time I saw this film, I suspect when John Major was prime minister. We no longer, mercifully, have many tobacconists. Let us just say that attitudes to LGBT+ people are a bit different. Even more fascinating, though, old people wear Victorian fashions because they are, of course, Victorians. It's middle aged women who look like my generation's idea of what old people look like. And there are the ever-present city gents with their black bowler hats.

This is a hilarious comedy, and also a fascinating little time capsule.

Out of the Trees

 “Van… is a word rarely used to start sentences.”

It's a shame this was buried on original transmission and lost for so many years; it’s superb. A sketch show scripted by the dream team of Douglas Adams and my fellow Leicestershire lad Graham Chapman, it feels in some ways similar to the style of the last season of Monty Python but is much fresher. Chapman and Adam’s as a writing team produce some splendid alchemy giving us a consistent run of excellent and very funny sketches.

The cast impresses too, especially Simon Jones in his pre-Arthur Dent days.

If you enjoyed the more verbal type of Pythonesque humour, or you’re a fan of Douglas Adam’s, you must seek this out.

Monty Python’s The Meaning of Life (1983)

“Let the heathens spill theirs
 On the dusty ground
 God shall make them pay for
 Each sperm that can’t be found.”

There’s a sketch on That Mitchell and Webb Look which shows our two eponymous writer-performers sorting out the order of sketches for their comedy sketch series, which is of course very much in the lineage of Monty Python. The joke is, of course, that they try to arrange the hits and the misses in the correct sequence so there are equal amounts of each, as every sketch show has to be hit and miss; it’s a fully fledged cliche. And one often made of this film.

Thing is, though, this criticism is somewhat dodgy. Of course the Monty Python telly series could be hit and miss; they had to fill thirteen episodes a series at the pace of telly, where union rules meant the studio lights went off at 10pm no matter what. But it’s commonly a criticism not made of The Holy Grail or The Life of Brian, both more narrative and less explicitly a series of sketches. Yet The Meaning of Life gets these criticisms full force.

But this is absolute pants. Yes, this film isn’t quite as good as the other two; I accept that. But how many individual telly episodes have this kind of hit rate? I mean, Every Sperm Is Sacred, sex education, a run of excellent war sketches, the Galaxy Song- this would have been a critical hit if it were the only Python film.

It’s also a lot more explicitly political, a sort of last hurrah for the Beyond the Fringe generation, as it gleefully skewers the church, public school, the armed forces and all sorts of upper middle class pretensions. Even Terry Gilliam’s glorious opening feature with its accountants raiding international finance on the high seas, a live action version of one of his own animations, is aimed squarely at Thatcherism. But more than that, it’s hilarious. And so is the film as a whole. So forget all this hit and miss stuff; this is classic, superb Python for the very last time.

Monty Python's Life of Brian (1979)

"He wanks as high as any man in Wome!"

This is, surely, the greatest comedy film ever made. By miles. I suspect that’s an uncontroversial comment. It’s also not at all about religion. That one needs a bit more explaining.

Life of Brian is about how ideas, such as Jesus’ rather excellent views on how to live one’s life, are always taken over and twisted into something else by those who want to use them to gain power and status. Hence the central part of the film, where Brian is followed by professional disciples (“I should know- I’ve followed a few”) who argue amongst themselves and split into various denominations over a dropped shoe on day one, killing their first heretic for good measure. The main example of the film’s central message is in that context. But it isn’t only applied to religion- aren’t Reg’s People’s Front of Judea and all the other “splitters” am example of exactly the same thing? Yet again, principles are subordinated to power, status and meaningless bureaucracy, exactly the same as per every organised religion that has ever existed. That’s how humanity always twists religion but also, I’m afraid, politics. Principles don’t stand a chance. That’s the film’s message, beneath the inspired humour. It’s very bleak, very Adam Curtis, and every bit as dark as the gleefully dark humour.

It’s bloody funny, though. We all have our favourite lines; mine is when Brian convinced the crowd that “we’re all individuals” and “we’re all different”, and one bloke shouts “I’m not”. The performances are superb, the Pythons being geniuses, and the script is the best comedy script ever. The filming in Tunisia looks lush and expensive- thank you, George Harrison, for paying for such things as this and Shirley Bloody Bassey. If you haven’t seen this then just bloody watch it now.

Monty Python and the Holy Grail (1975)

"Your mother was a hamster and your father smells of elderberries!"

I'm obviously not blogging the telly series; it’s brilliant and revolutionary, of course, and any kind of “best of” will always be hilarious, but a sketch show with thirteen episodes to fill will inevitably be, to use the hackneyed phrase, hit and miss. And it’s not an appetising thought to attempt to review individual episodes of a series that is, deliberately, rather stream-of-consciousness. But I’ll have a go at the films. And yes, I know And Now For Something Completely Different is technically the first Python film, but I think we’re safe to treat that as a stand-alone compilation.

So, what of the film? Well, it's utterly hilarious, obviously, a serious contender for funniest film ever made. The Python style and humour translates perfectly to the big screen, in spite of the obviously low budget. The great locations and bloody good direction by Terry Jones (not Terry Gilliam, but they didn't know at the time that he would go on to be a big Hollywood director) really help here.

It's interesting to see, though, how coherent the sketches more or less are as a longer narrative, the perfect fruition of what Michael Palin and Terry Jones were trying to do increasingly during that final, truncated series. But the many iconic scenes, which we all know so well, are an absolute triumph. Forget the gleefully dodgy history; this is comedy gold. Even Elvis thought so.

Yellowbeard (1983)

"Three farthings for a lump of shit please..."

This film is, well, not all that good which, considering that two of its three writers were Peter Cook and Graham Chapman, is rather bewildering. But it just isn't much good. And it killed Marty Feldman.

That isn't to say that there are no laughs at all, of course, nor that it isn't a pleasure to see the talents of those in them tags down there, plus Spike Milligan, Nigel Planer and even an eyebrow-raising from a very Let's Dance era David Bowie. But the whole thing never really takes off, perhaps partly because the script isn't great but in large part, I suspect, to a rather flat directorial style with no comedic timing or flourishes. Also, I have to say, the constant rape jokes don't exactly make for comfortable viewing.

Still, Graham Chapman is good, as is Marty Feldman in his last film, although Peter Cook is somewhat wasted in a straight man role. And the character of El Nebuloso is superb, with the scenes of Cheech and Chong, the acid pool and the torture device being the closest the film gets to being Pythonesque. But the film as a whole is a bit of a damp squib and worth seeing only for Monty Python or Peter Cook completists.

The Rise and Rise of Michael Rimmer (1970)

" Peter, I was just jotting down a few reasons why you might want to leave IOP and come over to us at the Fairburn Organisation."

"Oh yes, that's very well put. I particularly like the noughts."

This is one of the greatest films ever made, a work of true genius. Yet so few people have seen it, or even heard of it, in spite of its stellar cast: it stars Peter Cook, and features the likes of John Cleese, Leicestershire lad Graham Chapman, Arthur Lowe, Harold Pinter (a Nobel Prize winner, no less!), Denholm Elliott, Julian Glover, Dennis Price, Ronnie Corbett and many, many more, and was scripted by Cleese and Chapman. It seems to have flopped, and pretty much vanished off the radar. That's a tragedy; it's one of the greatest works of satire ever, in any medium. Watch it now. Please.

Michael Rimmer (Cook) is a man with no past or hinterland but limitless ambition, who suddenly appears from nowhere. He seems to have no desires beyond the pursuit of power, and his entire personality is constructed so as to achieve his goals, even choosing his wife by focus group. We begin with him inveigling his way into a hopelessly inefficient advertising business managed by the hopeless Ferret (Lowe). This is a far cry from Mad Men, in spite of the sexy secretaries, and probably something of a commentary on the state of British industry circa 1970.

Rimmer gradually gets himself into a position of real power via mastery of opinion polls, and gradually ends up as a spin doctor to the political world, and eventually an MP, Chancellor, Prime Minister and ultimately absolute dictator. Rimmer ends up with the Tories, but it all seems very New Labour. And this is 1970. This film is quite scarily prophetic.

In 1970, political differences meant something. The political left was actually socialist. Unions had real power. Sensible, Keynesian economics was the orthodoxy. It all seemed to be a far cry from our modern era of managerial politics and interchangeable political parties, run by what Peter Oborne describes in his thought-provoking book as "the political class". Today (as Adam Curtis has rather eloquently discussed, especially in such series as The Trap and All Watched Over by Machines of Loving Grace), this sense of politics as merely being about efficient ways of running a market economy with an ever-shrinking state. It seems such a clear contrast between then and now. Why, then, is this film so eerily prophetic?

The cynicism of the political class, and the meaninglessness of ideology, is plain to see. The unnamed Labour prime minister (suspiciously northern, pipe-smoking and, well, Wilsonesque, and played by the caretaker from Grange Hill!) unsuccessfully tries to lure Rimmer into joining the party, insisting that his lack of left-wing views need not be a problem, as Labour is "not bound to dogma". Worse still, once Rimmer is comfortably ensconced in senior Tory circles, a member of the cabinet makes a speech which is obviously meant to evoke Enoch Powell's racist "Rivers of Blood" speech. Yet Rimmer suggests that the Tory leader should do nothing to prevent the speech, but sack the minister afterwards. That way he can have his cake and eat it by looking like a man of principle by publicly opposing racism, while still giving the impression that the Conservatives are tough on immigration. It's deeply, deeply cynical.

The film isn't laugh out loud funny in the way that people might perhaps expect from this cast; it's very much in the style of Yes Minister or The Thick of It. But it's easily as good, as funny and as truthful as both of these, and I personally believe that it's a little more philosophically profound, even if there is a bit of nihilism underneath. Also, there's a pretty naked woman in it. Just saying.

There's another. less political, subtext too, I think. Peter Cook seems to be giving Rimmer the mannerisms of David Frost, and Cook once famously commented that his biggest ever regret was saving Frost from drowning. This entire film may well be one long character assassination, which would be rather ironic. Frost is executive producer...!

There's one thing that's puzzling me a little, though. There's a scene supposedly set in Nuneaton, although there's a suspicious lack of local accents, and I'd love to know whether or not it was filmed there. I know Nuneaton well, being a Hinckley lad, but I wasn't born until 1977, and I know the town centre was extensively redeveloped in the early '80s. So, can anyone put me out of my misery and tell me if it was filmed there or not? I can't say I recognise any of the locations, but things may have changed a lot.