Episode 8 - Full Frontal Nudity

"It's like, uh... well... you know. In't it?" - John Cleese as a Hell's Grannie
 
This episode doesn't have the same familiarity that most of the other episodes had. I watched them whenever they were run on WTOG in St. Petersburg, Fl., or on the PBS stations in my various apartments and homes throughout NYC and Pennsylvania. If you think about it, with only a total of 45 episodes, playing weekly on some station, the entire Python canon would run through in just a little over ten months. Reruns were to be expected, even anticipated, and I saw many episodes repeated to the point of being able to quote them in their entirety ("Gambleputty" notwithstanding). But for some, strange reason, I never saw this episode, until I got the DVD box set. They never played it. Why? What s it about a show called "Full Frontal Nudity" that made this episode so damn difficult to catch on network television?! As a boy in the full tumescence of adolescence, this is THE Monty Python episode I would have most wanted to see, just based on the title. In addition, it contains the exquisite "Parrot Sketch." Though I could recite the Parrot Sketch backwards and forwards from the live album, I hadn't seen it in the actual show. Why were the Florida television stations depriving me of the "Parrot Sketch", and "Full Frontal Nudity"? Perhaps if I had written and insisted on "Full Frontal Nudity" they would have corrected their oversight and aired "Full Frontal Nudity" for all to see.

If those of you out there haven't already bought the box set, you probably haven't seen this episode often, or at all, and this gleeful reminiscence will be wasted on you. Do yourself a favor and buy it now!

It's a bomb. See?

The "It's" Man begins the episode, paying off the heightened sexuality that the title promises. His face fills a close-up with anxiety, and as we pull back, we see he's sitting in a lawn chair in a (presumably) green and pleasant lawn. A table stands ready beside him, with chilled champagne in a martini glass waiting. At his feet, a blonde bombshell (oddly prophetic term, that) kneels, wearing a striped two-piece bikini and high heels. She hands him the champagne, then stands and takes his arm, leading him to the foreground. You can faintly hear Palin's pleased grunts as he slowly gets used to the idea that there might be more to life than off camera trauma. Perhaps this is his long-awaited reward for all the torments and tribulations from shows past. The woman fondles his arm as he schlurps the champagne, smiling at the camera. His eyes are alight with hedonistic expectation. Then the fawning woman reaches out of frame (with some awkwardness) and hands him a black orb bomb, fuse smoking. The word "bomb" is painted on the bomb, just in case you thought it was some sort of weird marital aid. The woman (who should be more concerned, she's well within the blast radius,) playfully tugs at his beard as he delivers his word, now aware of his true predicament. Of all the cuts, this is the cruelest. As John Cleese said in "Clockwise", "It's not the despair I mind-- it's the bloody hope." Kind of like being a teenage Python Geek, finding out there's an episode called "Full Frontal Nudity" and NEVER... GETTING... TO WATCH IT!

The titles follow, a graphic follows them with the title of the show, and two "man in the street" interviews follow. Palin brings back his "sexual ecstasy is overrated" woman, prudish yet flirtatious, who denounces "permissive society". Jones, as a trenchcoat wearing pervert, disagrees. Surprise. A graphic insult to David Hemmings' acting follows, Graham Chapman reprises his Constable Parrot role with a genial agreement to do a nude scene, provided "it was valid." (Don't worry, Graham-- "Life of Brian" is coming, and oh, boy, is it valid!) A quick snippet of vintage war footage plays next, with Cleese promising a very cool story. As in the previous episode, that's not the story we're about to see. Meanwhile, in Unoccupied Britain, 1970"...

Chapman, as the humorless Colonel, plays straight man to Idle's alarmed Private. Apparently, Wilkins (Idle) had no idea that being in the Army may involve killing. A great standard 60s sketch that suggests the military isn't marketing their "opportunity" honestly. We'll see more of this in later episodes. But before it even "properly" gets going, Chapman dismisses Idle as being "silly" and we're on to the next sketch. Cleese, giving it all he's got, announces the Vercotti Brothers (Jones and Palin), who come in to offer him "protection". "We'll make sure none of your divisions get done over... for fifteen bob a week." It's actually a brilliant idea for a sketch, but it feels like it needs a twist.

No twist ever comes. They play the concept, repeating beats like "Oh, look at that! It broke" with little variation, and Chapman stops the sketch again because it's too silly. But in a nice, inspired moment, Chapman admits that the sketch is badly written, that he hasn't had a single joke, and they couldn't come up with a punch line. As they cut to the cartoon, a nice politically incorrect moment when Jones whines that the audience won't get this. "Shut up, you Eye-Ties!" Chapman bellows. It makes one misty-eyed, how you could denigrate a whole swath of the population and no one would take it seriously enough to sue or protest. Stiff-ass Brits get all the luck!

Along comes Gilliam, to fearlessly take on the episode title! A trenchcoat wearing pervert grumbles his way to a park bench on a hill, and, looking to make sure nobody's around, pulls out the second volume of "Full Frontal Nudity." Unfortunately, all the splayed models (vintage photos) cover up when he turns their page. His outraged grumblings are hilarious. Frustrated, he tries out the local nudie show, and his view is blocked just as the goods go on display by an increasingly outrageous variety of obstacles-- A multiple car accident on a stage?-- until he finally takes out his frustrations on the gay M.C., with surprising results. Then a great hammer comes and hits him on the head. This is the first appearance of the hammer, a first cousin to the sixteen-ton weight. In a sense, I am that trenchcoat-wearing perv, going to great lengths to see this episode promising Full Frontal Nudity and being cock-blocked at every turn. Gilliam has revealed to the world my own adolescent irritation with not being able to see the episode. He's killing me softly with his song. (Sniffle.) Mr. Trenchcoat needs to learn what I learned-- if you want to see the box, you gotta buy the box set.

A series of quick snippets follow, with other men agreeing to do full frontal nudity if "it was valid." We go to Palin's art critic for an extremely funny sequence of Artistic Tourettes. His long suffering wife steps in to deliver a terrible pun, ("It's my only line!" again) and we cut to a pastoral shot of him strangling her. (In case you're keeping score, that's a shot at Italians, homophobia and misogyny-- and we're only 9 minutes into the episode. God, I miss the 60s!) We pan over to Jones in a tux, carrying Carol Cleveland, in a bridal gown, running through the meadow, over a hill, through the London streets-- Holy crap, these guys were in good shape!-- and into a John Saunders department store to buy a bed. The clerks are all, well, "interesting". One exaggerates numbers, and the other can't bear to hear the word "mattress" without trauma, which can only be undone by a lot of singing. This sketch, in various iterations, appears frequently in the Python oeuvre, but it's always good for a laugh. Cleese gives a funny threatening finger to the bride and groom that only gets a laugh from me. Seeing Palin, Idle, Cleese and Jones all singing in the tea chest is sweet. You can't get that close unless you like each other-- and unless you're incredibly thin. Carol Cleveland provides the punch line, and gives us a teary "But it's my only line!" wail at the end. For no apparent reason, the boys start hopping around. It's silly, y'see. But as you'll soon see, we can't have that.

Life of the Party

Back out onto the street with Jones in black face (Ah, the 60s!), and black body as well, playing a pygmy, opining on full frontal nudity. Cleese follows with a character so repressed, it hurts, but he is the only one who will do full frontal nudity, valid or not. Finally, Chapman returns as the humorless Colonel, who reprimands the show for being silly. "Nobody enjoys a good laugh more than I do," he explains, "except my wife. And most of her friends. Oh, yes. And Captain Johnson..." Finally, just as in the "Teeth" episode, he takes over the show, commanding the camera to cut to an outdoorsy-sketch. "Ten, nine, eight and all that." We obey, cutting to a fur covered hermit hiking up a mountain. Chapman's Colonel is pleased. "Let's hope it doesn't get silly..."

Palin, the hermit, comes across Idle, another hermit, and they sit and chat about their lives and the other hermits in the area. It's not easy being a hermit, they agree, but "at least you meet people." Like the "It's" Man, Chapman's hopes are dashed, and he comes out and stops the sketch, sending hermits, camera crew and Cleese (in the middle of an interview) off the rocky hill. There seems to be an undercurrent of frustration in this show. The Perv who can't get his glimpse of bush, the newlyweds, the hard luck Colonel-- and me, trying to watch this show as a boy. As the Stones sang in their 1969 offering, "You can't always get what you want."

Animation returns, as a broom sweeps all the people off a cliff and into a meat grinder. The ground streams of meat turn into Venus' hair, as she stands, lustrous and naked (fully and frontally), naughty bits covered by her meat/hair. Only one perfect breast is exposed-- which turns out to be utilitarian. A hand reaches up from the ocean and twists the nipple, and hoochie-koo music plays. Venus dances along, her wonky legs shattering the illusion of perfect womanhood ("perfect womanhood" defined as a pretty woman with radio tits. I'd totally tap that!) until her clam shell upends and she falls to the bottom of an aquarium in a pet shop. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you... The Parrot Sketch!

"Helloooo, Polly! Pohhhhhh-leeeee!"

What can I tell you about this sublime sketch that hasn't already been said? It was written by Cleese and Chapman, based on a bad garage experience endured by Palin, it's sheer bliss to watch Cleese and Palin working together, Cleese in his weird foldable plastic raincoat, Palin looking shifty behind his cigarette. There are a few glitches-- Cleese's line "Now that's what I cal a dead parrot," is delivered off-screen, as the camera zooms in on Palin. One bit that is difficult to get from the live albums, and which is not even captured well in the show, is when Cleese, assured by Palin that the parrot is only resting, opens the cage and hollers at the parrot, promising food if she should wake up. Palin, from off camera, reaches in and gives the cage a little shove. "There, it moved," he says, from off camera. A brilliant bit in a brilliant sketch, with a brilliant closing monologue. Listen, if you're reading all this, you're probably a Monty Python fan, and if you're a Monty Python fan, you probably already know this sketch by heart. So take a moment, relax, and recite the sketch to yourself. Let it wash over you like a fowled nest of feathers.

If your familiarity with this sketch is based on the live performances, as mine is, you'll be surprised, even a tad disappointed to see the sketch not so much end as unravel, as Palin sends Cleese to a different shop, but it's the same shop, but it's in a different town, with different signs, but his discarded bird cage is there-- it's an amazing whirl of meta-humor, as the Circusians play with the limits of studio locations and Cleese appeals to the camera for customer satisfaction. There are a few good lines-- "It was a pun," for instance-- but I personally would rather they had let this one alone, and just moved on to the next bit. Still, you can't blame them-- they didn't know they had an instant classic on their hands.  Cleese complains that the sketch has gotten to silly, Chapman agrees, and we cut to Idle as news announcer eating yogurt. Promising frontal nudity, we cut to film of Jones, flashing "women" on a London street-- only he's not showing them his genitals so much as a sign that says "Boo!" Back in the studio, Idle, prompted by Chapman, introduces the next film.

"Heh-heh-heh-heh-hehhhh."

Another classic, "Hell's Grannies", a mocumentary that exposes the social ills of rogue senior citizens. In a brilliant and silly twist on the typical documentaries of the era that tried to scare us away from rebellious youths, "Hell's Grannies" shows us cackling old ladies beating people up, vandalizing property, and burying dead bodies. This is another great example of the Pythons taking a silly, simple germ of a concept and going deep with it. In black dresses, hats and shawls, these old ladies terrorize the community, walking down the streets to a brassy trumpet accompaniment, shoving passersby out of the way. One of my favorite moments is Chapman as the bobbie. "Pension day's the worst. They go mad!" And Jones as the cinema manager. "Come the two o'clock matinee, all hell breaks out in there." And of course... crochet! But, things get silly, as the documentary bleeds into the societal ills of Baby Snatchers (great gag!), and rogue Keep Left signs. Chapman comes out to stop the sketch. A quick joke from Pervert Jones, finishing off the Full Frontal Nudity theme, and we cut back to the "It's" Man, alone again, naturally, except for the smoking bomb. A final dig at David Hemmings, and as the titles roll, we see that the bomb has stopped smoking-- only now it's ticking. One of those tricky double fuse bombs. Uncertainly shaking the bomb, Palin serpentines off before exploding.

This rarely-seen-on-network-television episode is one of the high points of the first season, with classic bits and film clips. There are some odd glitches, but they only lend an air of authenticity to the brilliant successes. Could it be that the rinky-dink glimpses of vintage photograph nudes were what kept this classic show off the air for so long? Fortunately, the comedy was more immortal than the televisual values of the seventies. And as for me, I may have tuned in for the nudity, but I stayed for the comedy.

And the nudity.  This is for you, adolescent Python Geeks!

Huh! She was turning the other way just a second ago...

Next week; The Ant, An Introduction. (No, really this time.)