But, the year before, Idle had taken the group on the road. (Ostensibly, it was Tony Smith and Howard Goldsmith who approached them with the idea, but I'm convinced if Tony and Howard hadn't done it, Eric would have done it anyway.) Inspired by the rock n' roll life style of many of his contemporaries, and something of a musician himself, he put together a tour, creating and refining a live show from three years of Python television, (or, as Palin referred to it in his diaries, " a second hand collection of old TV material,") along with some songs. Did I mention he was a musician?
Palin and Jones tried to keep the free-wheeling style intact, Cleese showed up and Chapman got drunk and laid a lot, up one side of England and down the other, as well as through the wilds of Canada and even dipping a toe into the frigid shark tank of Los Angeles (with disastrous results). The lads noticed a marked appreciation that bordered on cult. Idle wanted Monty Python to be rock stars, and by the end of the tour, that's what they were.
This represented a huge burst of establishment acceptance for the Pythons. It must be a very sweet phenomenon to make your living and reputation as a mere sketch comedian, in the land of Shakespeare and Pinter, and wind up at the friggin' Drury Lane. Suck it, Olivier! (Laurence Olivier is now dead, and does not suck.) But perhaps higher on the pros list was the convenience of it all. It was like a regular job for them, especially family men like Palin and Jones. They'd go to work, do their jobs, and take the tube home. But the Stones and Floyd would still come to hang out in Idle's dressing room. It was the tail end of the era, but this was still swinging London.
The show was initially booked for two weeks, and it ran four, with scalpers out in front of the theater hawking coveted seats. The reviews were good, or at least kind, and startlingly extensive. Apparently, the Pythons as a phenomenon were more print-worthy than they were as a TV show. (Palin, in his diaries, was a bit miffed that the reviewers tended to get him and Jones confused, and said that they "screeched" a lot.) For this huge endorsement to come while they were prepping for a hobbled show at the BBC must have seemed like good fortune for the PMCs (Pythons minus Cleese). It must have inched the BBC towards greater confidence in the marketability of the upcoming series, if the BBC ever worried about such things as ratings.
But, apparently, it was also fun, to find a new context for their madcap-ism. They called the show "Monty Python's First Farewell Tour (Repeat)" and had an overprint announce "Not Cancelled". They maintained the zany, free-association they had developed on the show, as well as the silliness. They put a dummy Queen Elizabeth up in one of the balcony seats, making the show unmistakably rrrregal. They established what would be their standard line-up, and they even recorded this particular show, making it the first non-bootleg Monty Python concert on album. (If anyone has an earlier bootleg, drop me a line.) The album was available only in Great Britain, and not in the US until they released it as part of the "Instant Monty Python Record Collection" in 1994. It's now available on CD, and you can buy it here!
But let's get to it. You've paid the price of admission by sitting through all this tiresome prose. Now let's check out the show together, via more tiresome prose!
We start with a hushed and portentious introductory voice over from Idle, setting the "stage". "Amongst the glittering audience here tonight, I can see, uh... what's his name?... the fellow with the glasses on telly." He can't remember the name of the lady next to the fellow with the glasses either, although she's the one with the big knockers on the jam commercial, and it's more forgivable. Ah, television fame is so fleeting. It's clear that despite the Python's new positions in the television industry, they never lost sight of how silly it all is. Good for them.
The audience cheers as the dummy queen raises her hands. "Another great chapter is about to be written in the history of Drury Lane." And out comes the Llama sketch!
With a voice over from Idle giving the English translation, the lads, led by Cleese, give the raucous and outrageous sketch their all. Of particular note is Cleese screaming "Cuidado! Llamas!" with true terror in his timbre. He may be diffident about continuing with the Pythons, but on stage he is committed! Or should be. I'm unclear on how the audience got the translations-- must be a visual thing.
Idle introduces the "Reader in Comparative Flower Arrangement at the University of Lynn Redgrave", Mr. D.P. Gumby. Palin gets huge laughs before he says a word, but when he speaks, even more. It's clear the audience loves Gumby as much as the Pythons do.
Jones buys some time with a stirring announced summation. "And so, the show had begun!..." After trotting out the hilarious show biz cliches, he is apparently strangled or kicked (by Cleese?) so that they can start the next sketch. This is, in some ways, a new sketch, one that I hadn't heard before. But it's also an old sketch, in that it follows the Cleese-ian playbook established by the Moutaineering Sketch, the Job Interview Sketch, the Merchant Banker Sketch, and the Selling String sketch, said playbook being "Normal Guy walks in for a job (or something) and meets Insane Authority Figure." In this instance, Idle applies for a job with the Secret Service. Cleese must determine if he is up to snuff. (Literally. The first question is "You have a good nose, do you?") and Cleese be crazy. It's a fine sketch, a bit on the prosaic side for Cleese, but he performs it to the hilt, earning the first burst of spontaneous applause of the evening. The joke is a cricket anecdote. Cleese describes being hit in the head with a cricket ball, and apparently the concussion and trauma are still fresh in his bruised mind as he stammers and starts the story over again, multiple times. Finally, he describes it yet again; "He put his left foot down the wicket, hit the ball back at me like a bullet, never had a chance to move, couldn't protect myself, ball hit me straight smack plumb between the eyes.... 'Course, I was getting used to it by then." He wasn't repeating himself-- he's been hit in the head dozens of times. Cue laughter and spontaneous applause... You had to be there. Idle earns a great laugh when Cleese asks him if he can stand up to physical torture. "Oh, yes, I hope so!" Idle responds with much more enthusiasm than the question should merit. But, as with the crazy authority figure sketches, there's rarely an easy out. Cleese accidentally shoots Idle.
Palin steps up next as a wrestling announcer. He gives it his all, too, but when he starts talking gibberish, it doesn't seem to land as well as Cleese's, but it's very funny. This is the Colin "Bomber" Harris sketch, where Chapman wrestles with himself if hilarious and strange yoga positions, ultimately knocking himself out. I recall hearing this sketch on the City Center album, but on this album, they cut in with another Idle voice over. "Whilst this mainly visual sketch is going on..." Idle gives us a brief history of the Drury Lane, as well as his wardrobe. We get a nice call back when he tells us "Many of England's most greatest actors have performed here, including... um... you know, that fellow on telly with the glasses." We also get a scratchy recording of the famous Sir Henry Irving doing the Parrot Sketch monologue. Henry Irving is played hilariously by Palin in his stodgiest acting since the Prime Minister sketch.
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| "It's a stiff?" |
Idle steps out next and announces World Forum with appropriately stentorian tones. The sketch kills, as always, and Jones/Karl Marx's "Oh, shit!" at the end sends the audience into delirium. Gilliam appears as Mao Tse Tung; "Sing, Ritter Bildy?" Finally, Idle introduces Neil Innes as "John Kissinger, brother of the famous Ronny Kissinger!" Neil Innes sings "How Sweet to be an Idiot", giving the lads time to change into something more pertinent to the next sketch.
A quick word about Neil Innes, as he will be playing a role in things for the rest of Pythonia. He was a novelty songwriter, famous for "I Am an Urban Spaceman" (produced by Paul McCartney, amongst others) and "Death Cab For Cutie" (which inspired a current same-named band,) as part of the "Bonzo Dog Doo-Dah Band". Said band (don't make me type it again) was the house band on the television show "Do Not Adjust Your Set", which starred Jones, Palin and Idle, with animations by Gilliam. I think that wannabe rocker Idle is the key word in that last clause, and when it came time to put together live shows, Neil Innes was a perfect fit-- a self-contained act with
Albatross is next, apparently played by Cleese in the audience, with Jones on stage. Cleese is all foul-mouthed belligerence, with audience members asking "How much?" only to get spat on. Chapman steps out as the unsilly Major, to stop the sketch, reprimanding Cleese; "You're not even a proper woman." "It's not my fault!" Cleese replies bitterly. Chapman gets the show back on track with Nudge, Nudge-- which gets a burst of applause at the first line. The sketch plays as expected, with the exception of a brief toss-in by Idle. "Mmm... Breakaway. Ewww!" This is a reference to the commercials Idle has been doing as the Nudge Nudge man, and it gets the second burst of spontaneous applause of the evening.
Goofy music plays us out-- ironic because playing out sketches with goofy music so irritated the Pythons five years ago that they rejected the necessity of punch lines in their sketches, and now here they are, using the goofy music they so condemned. Yet the music is so goofy, it almost plays as a spoof of the goofy music cliche, as Idle's voice over tells us the show is going well so far.
The next sketch is another bit of new material, called Cocktail Bar. It's hard to make out what happens on the CD, it being a pretty visual sketch, but apparently they order drinks with dead mallards and squeezed lemmings in them, and drink them, and vomit them all over, and then ask for more, all amongst the standard British gentility of a cocktail bar. Cleese orders a Harlem Stinger at one point, and Gilliam comes in as a black man by way of Louie Armstrong/Zulu Warrior named Rastus. (Nice, you gap-toothed, inbred Nancy Boys.), and then, according to Eric Idle's "Monty Python Live" book, Rastus puts all the liquor in his mouth, swishes it around, and spits it out into a glass. Expectorated, not stirred. The lads let their harshness out at one point-- Cleese mentions that "Nixon's had an asshole transplant," and Palin replies that in more recent news, "The asshole has rejected him." More spontaneous applause. Finally, a lady, (Connie Booth?) steps out an apologizes for the sketch. "We're very sorry... We're so fucking sorry."
We move on to the Travel Agent's Sketch, which plays as expected with a few additions; After Palin suggests replacing the letter "C" with the letter "K", (Idle can't say the letter "C",) Idle calls himself "a silly bunt." Idle also has added to the long monologue at the end, which is how they end the act. The monologue is impressive, another gauntlet thrown to the obsessive fans that has not been picked up as often as the much more manageable Parrot monologue. Idle finishes with a reference to the Labor government, which gets a burst of applause, and his voice over tells us we have twenty minutes to go to the Drury Lane bar and get pissed.
Cleese starts off Act 2 with the "Spot the Brain Cell" game show, the one where Jones the Ratbag asks for the Blow on the Head, instead of the "dagger up the clitoris." (Adapted for the stage.) The darkie joke is still offensive, but it plays well at the Drury Lane. I'm guessing Paul Robson never played there. Cleese draws the laughs from the crowd with every unctious fake laugh of his own. As the giant hammer comes down, I think you can hear Cleese crack up, along with Jones' skull.
Idle and Palin (and others, I assume,) step out as the Bruces, to sing the Philosopher's Song. Having heard this song in many future concerts and films, this one felt a little stiff to me. But I definitely heard melody-- was that Palin, or has Innes snuck into the action?
Cleese and Palin zip through the Argument Clinic next, interrupted by the "I've Got Two Legs" bit-- did his guts spill out, even then? The Four Yorkshiremen sketch comes next-- Palin has been in the last three sketches, and I'm wondering how he made the costume changes. Next, we get Cleese narrating Election Night Coverage (Sensible Party vs. Silly Party), apparently included because 1974 was an election year in Great Britain. This must have been great to see on stage, although it moves too fast for the audience to keep up. Funny story; Neil Innes played one of the losing Silly Candidates, and started singing "Climb Every Mountain" when asked for a comment, cracking everybody up. That's fine in a live show, I guess, but they were taping this one, and when they started selling records, they had to pay a ton of money to the studio that made "The Sound of Music." Not so silly now, is he? They finish the sketch with everybody walking off, saying "I'm bored, I don't want to do this anymore..."
Cue Idle and the Lumberjack Song, which earns a big burst of applause at the mention of the mighty Scots Pine. The Monty Python theme plays them all out, to the raucous in-time clapping of the audience.
But wait! There's more! The Parrot Sketch, with the audience laughing at almost every line. Seriously. Every line. They love this sketch. It's hard to imagine the sheer infectiousness of the Lumberjack Song could be overwhelmed, but it happened that night in London. You can hear Cleese trying hard not to crack up. Palin throws in a "pecker" joke, and Cleese responds in a "he's fuckin' sloughed it!" Finally, at the end, when Cleese asks of the slug "Does it talk?" Palin replies "Yes." "I'll have that one then,"
A voice over sends us home, and stuff happens on stage that we can't see but is apparently funny. A great show, a great celebration.
How could Cleese be a part of this, and still not want to continue the TV show? It beggars the imagination. But one thing seems clear-- these guys love and are completely comfortable with each other. The CD exudes a joy that you rarely get from the best stand-up acts. Everyone gets their moment, although Chapman and Jones seem to be a bit lost in the shuffle, and Idle and Cleese in particular seem to really step up a few million rungs. The live show-- all the live shows-- are a testament not only to the great material, but to the fellowship of the creators. Bravo, the six of you, and thanks, Neil, for letting them breath during the costume changes.
Next week; The Golden Age of Ballooning.
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