Episode 19 - It's a Living

"Foolishly, he ignored [the spot], and three days later, he died of cancer gangrene." - Carol Cleveland as the Grim Lipstick Story Teller

 This is the famous censorship episode.

As recounted in previous posts, Monty Python's Flying Circus was usually left alone to do what they want. The show made little sense to the executives, but the audience, gathered in such poor time slots, and the awards, certainly perked up their ears, and they began to take an interest. That's never good. But it was particularly awful in this case, because in an effort to control the tiger, they yanked its tail. And the tiger's name is Gilliam.

To be fair, the executives could not have known. This was all before "Brazil" and the various demonstrations of pique on sets far more prestigious and expensive than this silly sketch comedy show. They probably hardly understood his accent. How could they guess they were provoking an angry, anti-authoritarian visionary?

Let's get a good seat for the fireworks! And if you haven't purchased the box set yet, that means you are exploiting the struggling artists hard at work here, and that will make Terry Gilliam angry. You wouldn't like Mr. Gilliam when he's angry.

Although the "It's" Man does not appear in this show, we get his word right up front, in a cheap, garish show set that's Las Vegas by way of Kinshasa. "It's A Living", the aluminum foil letters read. Eric Idle sits, surrounded by a bored cast of red shirt Python extras. Idle explains the rules of the show-- "We get a fee, then we get another fee..."-- which could apply to any show ever made. Idle makes it all seem so dumb and pointless. Finally, having explained the rules, which include bar policy, he signs off. Content is non-existent, the deal is all. A nice bit for Idle, monologuing intelligently in the chair. Why is he the only celebrity who never got a talk show? He does it so well.

Next, we get the BBC graphic, the blue spinning globe against a black background. They're making good use of this graphic so far this season. In appearance #2, Announcer Palin gives a television twist to time. ""Well, it's five past nine, and nearly time for six past nine." Palin plays every possible variation on this theme before someone calls him a "loony." (I believe this is the first appearance of the word "loony" in the show. Short for "lunatic", it becomes one of their favorites-- the semantic equivalent of a Gumby.) The announcer becomes an animation-- but not just any animation. He becomes the man in the titles who gets turned into a chicken man. The titles begin in black, with only Palin's voice indicating clumsy disorientation, and when he finally finds the lights, he's being dismantled a la the credits. Good one, that. Giving the titles a back story.

A few quick bits about interruptions (including Announcer Cleese saying he can't be in the show this week. Heh.) before we link to a filmed bit about  a prize giving ceremony at a school. This takes us back to the "Seven Brides for Seven Brothers" sketch-- they might even have used the same location. This one is less honest and sweet, but more cinematic. A Bishop begins to award the prizes, then is sucked under the table, subdued and replaced by another Bishop, who steals the awards. He is beaten and replaced by Chapman doing a Mickey Rooney-esque Chinese impersonation ("I am Bishop, East Ang-ria...") that is supposed to play on our terror of Chinese communist takeover. Currently, it plays as a politically incorrect, terrible, insensitive but very funny Chinese impersonation. Dragged under the table, Detective Jones replaces him, and is shot for his trouble. Now the whole scene turns to a battle sequence, as Cleese tries to hand out awards to kids, who are killed upon accepting them, in a brilliant homage to the movie "If..." All of this happens without the slightest reaction from the other stiff-backed ladies and gentlemen up on the stage. Most of this is caught in a long shot from far away, with a few disconcerting close ups-- such as the grinning lady

(Mrs. Idle?) who gets some of the biggest laughs in the sketch. Cleese is clearly dubbed, and very poorly, but with the camera position, you have to be an anal twat to notice. (That's me!) The piece is primarily conceptual, but it's funny if you can get past the terrible presentation-- and of course, the post-Columbine funk the US is in.

As it turns out, the terrible presentation was part of the joke. The scene becomes a TV clip, watched by Interviewer Chapman, and Jones, who, in yet another brilliantly prescient Python moment, plays ultra low-budget filmmaker Dibley, who rips off the studio hits and then complains about how poor their versions were compared to his, excluding the production value. It's a solid bit, with short cheap versions of "Rear Window"
 and "Finian's Rainbow" (both starring Palin, Jones' muse). While Jones is generally the least inspired performer, he's great in this sketch, playing resentful hurt beautifully as he complains that Schlesinger got his version of "Midnight Cowboy" in the theaters, "while mine's still at the chemists."

Now, things just get silly. Chapman announces an interview with the Foreign Secretary about canoeing. The Secretary, having just returned from the war in the Oman, stands in a black suit and derby by a beautiful stream, a canoe by his side. He clears his throat, gets in the canoe-- and two Dhofar rebels run on from opposite sides of the frame, wearing very sheik clothing, and throw him and canoe into the water, muttering Arabic gibberish.  This is the gag, a funny visual filmed bit. It's interrupted,
only briefly, as Chapman introduces some impressive sounding bureaucrats who perform a human pyramid. But then we're back, as the President of the Board of Trade climbs into a stream side basket, and gets thrown into the water by the Arabic Chip and Dale. This continues with a number of dignitaries, some in baskets, some not, by ones and by twos, all thrown into the hungry stream. Finally, just when the joke starts getting tired, Chapman closes the show announcing a poem. Palin plays an 85 year old poet-ess, with a floating hanky, standing by the stream-- only she's on the near side, not the far side. As she reads, the Rebels show up on the other side, outraged to be thwarted by her. Palin plays it beautifully, throwing a quick glance over her shoulder and smiling smugly.
I'm guessing one of the Rebels (the one in the Merlot burka) is Cleese, who hops and gesticulates with such athleticism. Then, just as you think Palin might get away with it, a Samurai pops in, wielding a sword, and against all expectation, pushes Palin into the water before grimacing in triumph at the camera. Hilarious! A graphic pops up that makes no sense to me; "New Haven- Le Havre; Gateway to the Continent" These are port towns with a ferry between them, and I imagine that getting to France will ultimately make you vulnerable to Dhofar rebels and Samurai? And it's funny that that's a sales point? Aw, gimme a break! It's Friday.

We cut to an actual in studio sketch. Palin and other anonymati have dinner. Palin's "fill in the empty noise" chatter is funny, and vaguely hostile as he seems to simultaneously mock dinner conversation, and actors with no lines who pretend to have them. The doorbell interrupts the dinner. It's Cleese, looking like a 16th century serf, with a bucket of dung on his  shoulders. Palin earned it by signing up for "Book of the Month" Club. Other goofy promotions follow-- a dead Indian, and the M-4 motorway. Finally, Palin and wife are the prize in a police raffle. This sketch is based on an actual event, as recounted in Palin's Diaries. Writing with Terry Jones at his house one day, the dung man cometh. From thence to genius!

A listing of additional prizes takes us to an animated link,
somewhat awkwardly connected with a Palin voice over that just sort of trails off. The animation involves Samurai suicides (a prelude to Life of Brian, perhaps?) and Adam on white. (Which Adam? THE Adam. Were you thinking Adam West?) This all links us to a restaurant, where down and out Jones meets celebrity phony Timmy Williams (Idle), a David Frost doppleganger. The sketch is funny, though more pedestrian than most Python sketches. Jones tries to plead for help, but Williams is too busy being a celebrity to care, or even listen. Idle, in 5th gear the whole sketch, seems to get the names wrong, but at one point, he has a great moment; the documentary film crew asks him to pause a moment while they adjust the sound. Before they call action, Idle sits, his chin in his hand, completely dour and awful-- then, "Action", and he's all smiles and gooey phrases again. The credits to the show are also great-- "Written entirely by Timmy Williams. Additional material by..." and a whole slew of names race past. Clearly, the lads, all of whom worked for David Frost in some capacity, had some issues.

We fade up on a talk show. Palin interviews Chapman, but Chapman, in a huge fake nose, is just too silly to interview. Palin refuses to go on, unmoved by the accusations of anti-Semitism when he pulls off Chapman's nose. But we've ridden that horse enough. Time for animation! We return to the buxom trampoline
woman from show 17. A man bounces off her, past other women of easy virtue, including Mona Lisa, who's definitely had some work done. This all takes us to a set of stairs, and up the stairs--

The happy quintuplet

The Marriage Registry Office. In a bit similar to the "Me, Doctor" sketch, Jones tells Idle he'd like to get married, and Idle, the registrar claims he's already married. The sketch builds beautifully and swiftly, so that all of the Circusiams wind up married in a photo. Animation time, gentlemen-- animation time. One of the men is plucked from a picture, his head popped off, and a woman uses his blood for lipstick. She proceeds to tell a story about a black spot...

Love at first blight...

This is the big kerfuffle. Gilliam created this charming and silly animation that began as a fairy tale. A Prince, hopping around on all fours (apparently, this means he's happy-go-lucky) finds a spot on his face, and dies. The spot goes on to seek his fortune in the big city, meets a lady spot,m and they move into a neighborhood and fulfill racial stereotypes by breeding like rabbits. The spot, originally, was cancer. The BBC objected to (of all things!) the word "cancer", and changed the word, inelegantly dubbing "gangrene" (with a male voice) over Cleveland's narration. After twenty years, Gilliam was still upset about it. "It's just crazy. Who's protecting who from what?!"  he asks Kim "Howard" Johnson two decades later. But personally, whether "cancer" or "gangrene", the sketch doesn't change. In fact, of the two versions, (the "cancer" version immortalized in the film "And Now For Something Completely Different,") I actually prefer the ineptly dubbed version. For just a second, we see the man behind the curtain, and he's ridiculous. As expertly as Monty Python skewers authority, the skewer themselves even better. "Gannet on a stick!"

Who would you rather have a beer with?

Finally, "Election Night" a brilliant send up of the hysteria surrounding elections. Cleese brings manic energy to his television news anchor, tabulating the results as they come in. The results are announced on film, usually from some sort of balcony, with a sensible candidate, and a silly candidate with a silly name like "Walrus Titty". The frantic goofiness in the studio is reminiscent of "Spectrum" (Episode 12) with rushed, harried silliness and great jokes peppered in; "The Silly Party has taken Loudon... Mary Whitehouse has just taken umbrage!" This launches us into the credits, and hot damn, it's over!

This show, while offering no stand-out bits, is another stone laid in the foundation of the legend of Monty Python. It takes a huge step forward with random and brash insanity, giving us not so much leaps as huge bounds of  logic. It claims "silly" as its own, creating Monty Python's own political party. It introduces the term "loony" to the Python lexicon.

But then there's the black spot. The first sign of censorship, and the outrage that it elicits from Gilliam. Much of this episode takes place on film; The School Prize bit, the bad knock-off films, the Silly Party, and the Oman rebellion on  the bank of an English stream. All of this, and all the animation, is delivered to the BBC as a fait accompli, and with such a huge proportion of the show done with such autonomy, it must have been easy for them to think that they were creatively free to do their own thing. But although they were skilled, confident and increasingly eager to strike out on their own, there was still a hand on their reins. And that hand was, in its way, sillier than they could ever be.

Next week; Season 2 Titles!