Before John Cleese and Graham Chapman wrote the Dead Parrot sketch, they wrote this sketch for a special called “How to Irritate People.” When they started doing Monty Python, Graham Chapman suggested substituting a parrot instead of a car, and the rest is history. But here’s what the original sketch was like.
I’ll be showing this sketch at a writing workshop I’m conducting this week at the iO Theatre in Chicago, and thought I’d give you a peek. Enjoy.
Happy birthday, Graham Chapman! Graham would have been 73 years old this Wednesday, and the world is a far less silly place without him. He left us nearly a quarter of a century ago, and he is sorely missed.
Readers Digest used to run a feature about "The Most Unforgettable
Person I Ever Met." While I have known a few people who would qualify, I don't know if anyone fit the bill more than Graham. In addition to being a member of Monty Python, he was also a goatherder, a Petula Clark writer, an alcoholic and then a recovered alcoholic, openly gay at a time when it wasn't well-accepted, a mountaineer, and a fully qualified medical doctor who went to New Zealand as the result of an off-handed comment during a meeting with the Queen Mother. He was sometimes prolific, sometimes not, though at one point, he was simultaneously writing for three different television shows. [He would undoubtedly have been at the forefront of the gay rights/gay marriage movement over the past 25 years, as he was when he was alive--he never really got the credit, but he was, arguably, the first openly gay star of a Hollywood movie.] His greatest accomplishment may have been his triumph over alcohol. He used to party with his friends Keith Moon, Harry Nilsson, and Ringo Starr, a group not known for their temperance (they all eventually quit--or in the case of Keith, tried to quit--drinking; all but Ringo are gone now). At the beginning of the filming of Monty Python and the Holy Grail, Graham self-diagnosed himself as alcoholic and made the decision to quit drinking, though it took some time. But when he finally came out of it newly sober, he proved himself to be wonderful capable in films like Life of Brian. The first couple of times I met Graham, he was still hampered by alcohol. The Chicago premiere of Holy Grail (where he was accompanied by Terry Jones) was early in the day, and he did not seem to be affected. The following year, I met him again backstage at New York's City Center, between two Saturday evening performances of the Monty Python Live! stage show. He wandered around shirtless with a large tumbler of something that looked suspiciously like Gordon's Gin. He emitted the occasional random squawks! and sang "Ya De Buckety!" for no apparent reason. But he held himself together enough during the performance that I saw, and I enjoyed it immensely.When I flew to London two years later, I met a completely changed Graham. Quiet and soft-spoken, but still with a wickedly funny sense of humor, he had quit drinking at the beginning of the year and was a totally different person. He invited me to stay at his house on Southwood Lane, along with his partner David, foster son John, dogs Harry, Sly, and Clint, and a semi-regular assortment of drop-in guests, including a semi-scary man in black leather called Spike, and Bernard McKenna, with whom he was writing at the time. He introduced me to the Angel Pub in Highgate (where there is now a plaque in his honor), where he drank ginger ale. Having read about it in guidebooks, I ordered the shepherd's pie; when it came, Graham eyeballed it, looking a bit disturbed, and asked me "Are you sure that's what you wanted?" (Graham was right about the shepherd's pie.) And so began our long friendship, one which lasted as long as Graham himself. Happy birthday, Gray.
‘Tis the season for one of my favorite Graham Chapman performances, from Meaning of Life. I remember walking around the soundstage with Graham during the filming, and noticing the huge set of steps that he would have to walk down during the song. He admitted he was a little nervous–it was a huge, tall set of stairs, and his descent was being choreographed by Arlene Phillips. But he shot it shortly afterward–and the result should put you in the Christmas spirit…
My pal Mark Evanier and I have been trading comments about the Python reunion on our respective blogs. Here’s his latest.
I point this out in particular not because I disagree with him, because I very much agree with him. [Although I do disagree with Mark about something: the Hollywood Bowl shows were Sept. 26-29, 1980, not ’81.]
The Python reunion will inevitably be less of a performance and more of a rock concert, with people showing up to see the legends performing their legendary sketches. John Cleese always talks about how he was unnerved when they first performed the Dead Parrot Sketch live at the City Center in New York, because the audience was so quiet. He thought it has bombed, until he saw the audience members all mouthing the words.
On another occasion, performing the same sketch, Michael Palin had broken his concentration so badly that John had completely forgotten the words. He leaned over into the audience and said “What’s the next line?” And about a dozen people shouted it at him. He began conducting the audience, who knew all the lines as well as he did, for the rest of the sketch. Those are the kinds of moments that will be special for the audiences who see them live.
The guys are trying to satisfy both segments of the audience–those who want a “Greatest Hits” performance, and those who want to see something–well, something completely different. Which may be impossible. But it’s safe to say that there will be new spins on some of the old favorites, as well as some bits that have never been performed live, and several surprises.
A live show had been under serious discussion in 1999, to be held in Las Vegas. The opening number would have featured an over-the-top Vegas-style musical production, with showgirls pushing around Graham Chapman’s coffin. I doubt they’ll be taking the Vegas approach this time, but that gives you an idea of the sort of thinking they’re doing.
One thing is certain: whether audiences are going for the entertainment or the history, they’ll be getting both.
I’ll be posting ticket information here soon, along with some Python book information.
My old pal Mark Evanier writes one of the best blogs ever (here), and is one of the reasons why I started blogging. He’s always interesting, and I agree with him about 99-percent of the time. He’s also a huge Python fan, and recently wrote about the upcoming Monty Python reunion here. I think I should probably point out a couple of things to balance his thoughts.
It’s true–Graham Chapman will not be up there on the stage with them physically. My dear pal Graham made an ill-advised career move back in 1989. He has stubbornly insisted on remaining dead, so I suspect the other Pythons finally got fed up and decided to reunite without him. Yes, it will be sad to not have Graham there in person, but he will certainly be there in spirit and in video clips. Frankly, I’ve gone back and forth on this over the years, but have come to the conclusion that it’s good audiences will have a chance to see 5/6ths of the Pythons performing live, particularly when the other option is 0/6ths of the Pythons.
Several people have also asked me about the Pythons getting up there “at their age” and doing their old sketches. My feeling is that is if a championship pole vaulter decided to make a comeback at age 70, he may be missing a step or two. But with comedy, particularly the Python style of comedy, they can perform as well as ever. I saw John Cleese perform a couple of months ago, and believe me, he hasn’t lost his sense of timing, and the others are every bit as sharp. This is going to be fun.
As Judith told Reg in Life of Brian: It’s happening, something’s actually happening!
That’s the answer to the question I’ve been getting all day. The Python Reunion is on. 2014 is going to be the biggest Python year since 1983, when Meaning of Life was released.
I’ve known about this for months now–so much for everyone who said I couldn’t keep a secret!–but when I first found out, my reaction was much the same as everyone hearing about it today.
Even though Graham Chapman died in 1989, he will be included in the show. He wouldn’t have it any other way. But details are still being worked out. The guys just spent all day together, and scripts are being finalized.
There will be a press conference on Thursday in London, with the group announcing when and where. I’m still biting my lip, so you’ll have to come back here Thursday for all of the details. It’s going to be worth it.
Monty Python’s Life of Brian opened in New York the year after shooting wrapped in Tunisia. It was a soft opening at first–it was slipped into one theatre and ran largely without controversy for several weeks. Then in September, the Pythons themselves all flew into town (and so, naturally, did I). They kept to a rather busy schedule, doing lots of TV, radio, and press interviews to promote the film, which was getting great reviews but also upsetting a few folks (Graham Chapman told me “There are some people whom one would wish to offend”). While I was walking to their Central Park South hotel, I saw a full-page tabloid headline from one of the smaller newspapers–I can’t recall precisely what it said, but it seemed a little jarring to see a full-page headline devoted to the film. When I got back to their hotel, I ran into one of the people with Handmade Films. When I told her about it, she was quite interested, so I promised to get her a copy if I could find one.
Not long afterward, I found and bought the last remaining copy I could find of the tabloid, and dutifully headed back to the hotel. For some reason, there were dozens of people gathered in front, but I brushed past them and made my way to the elevator. I rode up to the suite that was serving as base camp for Handmade and knocked on the door. A smiling John Goldstone, the film’s producer, opened it and said hello. “Hi, John,” I smiled, and brushed past him, heading toward the adjoining room. I had planned to drop off the newspaper and leave. John appeared a little uneasy, but I was moving too quickly for him to stop me.
Then, from the far corner of the room, I heard someone call “Howard? Howard Johnson?” I turned to see George Harrison grinning back at me.
I was a little stunned. The one and only time I had met George was nearly a year ago, in Tunisia, during the slightly chaotic evening that I wrote about last week. I hadn’t noticed him, but he recognized me! I later realized that in addition to our conversation, he probably recalled me from the Python fanzine that I had given him a year ago. If he could remember that, he was a serious Python fan.
We chatted for a few minutes, then John Goldstone politely interrupted George and reminded him that they had an appointment for lunch. I rode down the elevator with them, with George chatting away. I asked him about the rather large crowd in front of the hotel, whether it was for him, but he shook his head “no” and speculated that it was for The Who, who were playing their first concerts since Keith Moon’s passing. When we got to the first floor, he didn’t seem to want to leave. But business called, and they slipped through the lobby to the adjacent Stork Room, avoiding the crowd outside.
Later that day, I came down the elevator with another guy who looked vaguely familiar. We got off and he walked outside, into the crowd, which swarmed around him for autographs. I thought it might be Kenny Jones, who was filling in as drummer for The Who at the time. So I asked an enthusiastic member of the crowd, who gasped breathlessly “That’s Bruce Springsteen!” He was playing that weekend for the No Nukes concert. A lot happens in New York…
I was a little surprised I hadn’t recognized him, but not particularly bothered. Riding in an elevator with Bruce Springsteen was anti-climactic after visiting with my pal George.
British cemeteries are fascinating. When I was staying at Graham Chapman’s house during my first Monty Python-inspired trip to London, he casually mentioned “Karl Marx is just up the road.” I was slightly confused, until he explained that Highgate Cemetery was about a five minute walk from the house, and Karl Marx was indeed one of his neighbors. “People are always blowing it up,” he added casually.
One of the reasons British cemeteries are more interesting than American ones is that they’re just so OLD. Take a walk through, and it isn’t hard to find tombstones that are older than America.
But British cemeteries also have more than their share of mysteries. Brompton Cemetery, near Kensington in London, has a time machine in one corner. Yes, you read that correctly.
When I was in the early stages of writing the book that became The Last of the Time Police,” I stumbled upon the story of this strange but true structure, and the people who created it. Why they created it, and how it got there, is still a mystery. Even stranger, the mausoleum/time machine almost looks like it was built by ancient Egyptians. In fact, it may have been built by a Victorian inventor called Samuel A. Warner, who also invented the first torpedo. When Warner demanded a huge sum for one of his inventions, some claim that he was murdered to prevent it from falling into the hands of Britain’s enemies.
Or, it might have been designed and built by Joseph Bonomi, an architect and Egyptologist who was part of the team that first deciphered the hieroglyphics found in Egypt’s Valley of the Kings. (Some people claim that the papyrus that he worked on included the secrets of time travel.)
Both Warner and Bonomi are buried near the mausoleum, which is allegedly occupied by a trio of Victorian spinsters, about whom very little is known for certain. The mother, Hannah Courtoy, is rumored to have been a royal mistress, and extremely wealthy; two of her three daughters are supposed to be buried with her. Nobody knows for sure.
The key to the 20-foot tall mausoleum was lost and no one has been inside in more than 120 years. Of course, that gave birth to rumors that the tomb is empty, and that some or all of them are traveling in time.
Some people laugh at that. What they can’t laugh at is the fact that the mysterious mausoleum is the only structure in the entire cemetery for which there are no plans (and this was at a time when the schematics for any structure proposed for Brompton Cemetery had to be carefully studied before approval).
We also know that all of these folks led extremely interesting lives, and that’s why I made them all characters in The Last of The Time Police. More on some of these folks later, but in the meantime, here’s a shot of the time machine/mausoleum to put everyone in a Halloween mood…
An evening with John Cleese is like sitting down with an old friend and a cold vodka and tonic. You know you’re going to have an enjoyable evening–the only question is, how enjoyable?
Most of the audience for John Cleese: Last Time to See Me Before I Die will be familiar with at least some of his work, usually Monty Python, Fawlty Towers, or A Fish Called Wanda. And they will unquestionably get their moneys’ worth with stories and film clips featuring the best-loved bits and co-stars. But just as enjoyable are the stories and clips of lesser-known but just as hilarious shows and friends. Who knew that his mother Muriel would be discussed as much as Monty Python? And get just as many laughs?
John settles into a comfy chair as he discusses both his parents, growing up in Weston-super-Mare, which was inexplicably bombed during World War II, how he got into show business, touring New Zealand, beginning work at the BBC, and early friends and idols like Marty Feldman, David Frost, and Peter Sellers. He hits on all of the successes that one would expect, but also explains his love of black comedy (one of the few things he had in common with his mother). He gleefully relates several practical jokes played on Michael Palin (including one that backfires deliciously), and tries to explain the late Graham Chapman, his friend and writing partner. The show moves along at a rapid pace, and he packs in plenty of stories, seasoning it with just the right amount of photos and film clips.
I suppose a disclaimer is due here: I’ve known and been friends with John since the ’70s, so I am a bit prejudiced. However, after seeing it several times, I was delighted to see the virtually universal enthusiastic audience reaction.
At risk of being labelled a sycophantic fanboy (which, when dealing with John and the Pythons, is a badge I wear with honor), he deserves the adulation; he works hard to ensure that his performance is word-perfect, going into the theatre early to hone phrases and check photos and cues. The result speaks for itself.
After wrapping up the Canadian Tour, John Cleese: Last Time to See Me Before I Die will be touring Australia early in 2014. I’ll post more about it when it gets closer to the time.
Oh, and how enjoyable? Very enjoyable indeed.
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