That Stubborn Welsh Bastard, Terry Jones

"You know, I've never thought of myself as a comedian." - Terry Jones, Comedian

Terry Jones is widely credited with giving Monty Python its revolutionary "stream of consciousness" narrative flow, and thus can be fairly called the Father of Python. Of all the Pythons, it could be argued that Jones has had the most successful and varied career, directing his own scripts on more occasions than any other member, as well as writing more for others' movies. He worked like a demon before Python, and seems to have kept at it ever since.

But personally, I'm with him. He's just not very funny. Sorry.

As a performer, he seems the least humorously intuitive. He's at his best on film, lost in front of a studio audience. As a sketch writer, he's uninterested in building concepts, preferring instead to abandon them for other shinier ideas. His fascination with the "New", something different for the sake of being different, saps his concentration from the discipline of writing. He's creatively ADD.

This is evident from the start, as he and Palin work simultaneously on "Do Not Adjust Your Set" and "The Complete and Utter History of Britain" in the late 60s. "It was absolutely manic," Jones recalls. The latter show, perhaps the inspiration for Steve Allen's more influential "Meeting of the Minds", was what caught Cleese's attention. Offered a BBC show of his own, he wanted to do it instead with Palin, Jones' co-writer on the show. And where Palin went, Jones went.

The writing for the show usually split along Cambridg/Oxford lines; Palin/Jones, and Cleese/Chapman, with Idle and Gilliam being the lone wolves. As time went on and circumstances demanded, the lads would shake it up a bit, crossing the lines to write with each other. The exception to that dynamic was Jones. He only wrote with Palin. He confessed later that he was insecure about his ideas, and only after Palin gave him the thumbs up would he feel confident in them.

As with most insecure people, Jones was quite the bully. Idle recalls that Jones would never give an inch in an argument, even when faced with compromise from the other side. "Terry is very Welsh." Cleese remembers "...[Jones] always believed in everything very strongly. I always used to say to him, 'Terry, have you ever believed in anything not very strongly?'... I often didn't believe in things very strongly, but I'd got fed up with being steamrolled." Jones agrees, laughing. "I only threw a chair at him once." He badgered the film director and editors over the film bits. It's hard to imagine how the group persisted. Jones was not the draw, yet he controlled and fought for aspects of the show as though he were. Why didn't Cleese and the others silly walk away?

I can only guess why. I suppose part of it was the assumption that Palin and Jones were a package deal, and that losing Jones meant losing Palin. But I like to think, and desperately hope, that the others began to see the accidental yet immense value that Jones brought to the enterprise. Though not a comedian, Jones was a conceptual artist, backed by a massive intellect. And he had the good taste to be those things in the late 60s, when it was possible to attract an audience simply by being avant-garde.

Though not a great sketch writer, Jones, through sheer Welsh will, managed to chisel out a conceptual niche for himself in the greatest sketch comedy show of all time, which in turn informed all other aspects of the show. Jones' vision made Gilliam's inclusion possible, gave Palin many memorable moments, and freed Cleese and Chapman from their Apollonian social critiques and allowed them to soar with the wings of absurdity. Monty Python would not have been Monty Python without Jones. He is perhaps the only member of the troupe who can claim this distinction.

The ultimate tragedy of Jones is that he gave much more than he took. The stubbornness that served him so well in creating a context for himself failed him later on. The final season of Monty Python, without Cleese's challenge, was dominated by Jones, and the show suffered for it. He was unable to yield to and learn from the other members of the troupe. His post-Python work is scattered and middling, great ideas marred by uneven execution.

But at least so far as Monty Python's Flying Circus is concerned, Jones has won the argument. We cede, cry "Uncle." For one, brief moment that will shine forever, Mr. Jones, you were absolutely right! Now, please, put down that chair...

  Next week; Season 2!