Monty Python Discover The Meaning of Life

In the 1970s, when John Cleese, Graham Chapman, Eric Idol, Terry Gilliam, Terry Jones, and Michael Palin started working together, they were full of enthusiasm.  The ideas flowed, and each was excited by the others' efforts.  But as the years went by, tensions mounted as each yearned to pursue his own projects, and all were frustrated by the low pay they reaped from their TV shows and movies.  In 1981, after innumerable discussions, writing attempts, and delays, the men felt as if they were getting nowhere with a follow-up to their previous film, "The Life of Brian."  In his diary from November 25th, Michael Palin records that he'll be "mightily relieved when this next Python film is done and out of the way and we don't have to write together for another four years."

Hoping that a change of venue might inspire them, the six men flew to Jamaica in January 1982, where they rented a house.  At first, they floundered to write material they all liked, or devise a structure that could encompass all the skits they had come up with.  One morning, while Michael Palin and Graham Chapman were working together, their cook told them she needed a ride to the market.  So they threw out ideas as they chauffeured Beryl around the island to buy the ingredients for the evening meal.  They dreamed up a musical number involving fish and a mystery play.  After lunch, none of the others liked their idea. John Cleese and Eric Idol wanted to revisit an old idea for an over-arching narrative, but no one liked that either.  When the two Terrys then suggested the old TV idea of "a rag-bag of non-sequiturs and complex connections" to link the various skits, the mere idea of repeating themselves sapped everyone's creativity.  "It's as if...this is the moment that this material--the best of three years' writing--finally defeated us."

But their efforts would not end in defeat.  The next day, Terry Jones estimated that they had roughly 100 minutes of good material.  "This seems to spur people into another effort," Palin wrote.  Within minutes, they had a title they liked, "Monty Python's Meaning of Life," and began hammering out the various phases of the movie's structure.  They are on a roll again, they are all excited, and most importantly, they had found the direction they needed to finish the script.  

Although they didn't know it at the time, "The Meaning of Life" would be the last movie the six men made together.  It may not be the best film ever made, but it holds an enviable 89% critics rating and an 82% audience rating on Rotten Tomatoes.  More importantly, it was a film that the six men cared about, and dearly wished to make.  Yes, a moment of inspiration allowed them to assemble the film into a form that they could all agree on, but it only occurred after three years of hard work, and because they didn't give up on a project that was important to them.

Dragon Dave  

Related Internet Links
Monty Python's The Meaning of Life on Rotten Tomatoes

Michael Palin’s Discipline

Hawaii’s remote location is both a blessing and a curse.  Traveling there makes for a delightful change of place, where aided by the warm temperature, the cool tradewinds, the stunningly beautiful landscape, and the laid-back, carefree nature of islanders, one can cast off the cares of the world.  And yet, because so much must be transported there, everything becomes more expensive.  Staying in a remote location such as Punalu’u becomes even more expensive, with such necessities as a half-gallon container of ice cream (which in recent years has been bastardized down to 1.75 or even 1.5 quarts) costing ten or twelve dollars in a local grocery store.

So it was that my wife and I embarked on the hour-plus drive back to Hilo, where for a mere seven or eight dollars, our modern, sleeker cartons of ice cream could be found.  Other comforts of civilization cost too much, and had to be left on the shelves for budgetary reasons.

While there, in this pinnacle of Hawaiian civilization, we took the time to visit Hilo Bay Books.  There I secured a few precious items of literature that I had wondered if I might ever find.  Noticing the man behind the counter was watching a clip from "Monty Python’s Flying Circus" on his computer, I mentioned that I was currently reading Michael Palin’s Diaries.  To my surprise, he asked which of the two volumes I was referring to.  "The second one, concentrating on the 1980s," I told him. Like me, he loved the classic TV series, and was amazed by the creativity of its founders.

Michael Palin has been blessed with enviable talent, but that didn’t mean he could simply sit down and whip up a masterpiece whenever the mood struck him.  As a successful actor, writer, and TV presenter, his time and talents were in constant demands, to say nothing of all his personal commitments to his family and friends.  In the spring of 1981, Palin had finished his scenes for “Time Bandits.”  Yet he was constantly involved with the film, due to his friendship with Terry Gilliam, the disagreements between the Pythons and their management, the brewing trouble between Gilliam and George Harrison over the film’s music, and the constant rejections from American distributors.  Add to all that his regular meetings with the Pythons as they transacted business and tried to cobble together various ideas for what would become their final theatrical movie, “The Meaning of Life.” 

Finding time to pursue personal projects proved nearly impossible.  He constantly fended off offers from TV, movies, and fellow Pythons to participate in other movie and TV productions.  Yet he carved out several hours each day for writing.  Initially, he wasn’t sure what type of story he wanted to tell.  With so many competing distractions, this uncertainty over the shape and scope of the finished project didn’t help.

On March 9^th, he records, “Nothing springs instantly to my pen—no characters so all-consumingly important that I have to write about them.  It’s a shame really—all those people out there with burning convictions and desperate messages to the world which they can never make anyone listen to and here am I, pen poised to create entertainment for the world and not knowing what I want to say.”

Three days later, he faces another long day at his desk.  He estimates when he should finish.  He wonders when he can have his next cup of coffee.  He records, “Yawn.  Stretch.  Yawn.  Look blankly through all I’ve written this week, trying desperately to summon up any belief in the purpose of these arbitrary scribblings and character snippings.” 

“The hour passes without hardly a line written.  It’s like insomnia, in reverse.  My mind refuses to wake up.”

Later that day, he opts to go for a run during an unseasonable dry spell.  As he pounds around Parliament Hill and nearby surroundings, inspiration strikes.  By the time he returns home, he sits down with renewed enthusiasm, and with clarity of focus starts to write what would eventually become the film “The Missionary.”

Okay, his breakthrough didn’t occur while he was actually sitting down at his desk, trying to write.  The idea only struck him when he went out for a run.  But would it have occurred to him if he hadn’t chained himself to the desk each day for hours at a time?  I don’t think it would have.  How about you?

Dragon Dave

Related Dragon Cache entries

Palin’s Perspective

Related Internet Links

Hilo Bay Books

Monty Python’s Crusade Part Three: “...And For Eternity”

In 1975, the giant ABC network purchased the group's Season Four episodes for broadcast to American viewers.  This represented the first real opportunity for everyone in the United States to witness the wonder that was Monty Python.  But instead of broadcasting the six shows individually and uncut, the network chose to edit nearly every skit and combine the resultant material into two specials.  Terry Gilliam and Michael Palin flew to America in the hopes of achieving a satisfactory compromise, but after meeting with executives, realized that preserving the artistic merits of their material outside of court was impossible.  So the following day, the two men went into a New York City court room to take on the giant American network.


They lost.


After fighting so hard, and being robbed of even a compromise settlement, Monty Python decided to fight on, believing that not only their reputation in America, but also the artistic merits of their material, had been significantly harmed by ABC.  This legal process continued throughout 1976, until on December 16th, nearly one year after Terry Gilliam and Michael Palin had battled the American giant and lost, a settlement was reached.  In addition to paying Monty Python’s legal costs, ABC agreed not to transmit any more shows unless the group approved any cuts made to their material.  More important, as neither the BBC nor ABC seemed to care about the artistic merits of their material, the group would receive their original tapes back after five years, and Monty Python would hold all rights associated with them.


Because Gilliam and Palin traveled to America to fight on behalf of their group, and because the members continued to crusade for their rights, not only did Monty Python emerge victorious from this battle, but the entire world benefited.  In the 1960s and 70s, TV was still a relatively new art form.  Not able to foresee the proliferation of cable television channels and the home video market, studios and production companies often failed to properly preserve their creations.  TV episodes that had broadcast in their home countries and sold abroad were often junked.  Some shows, such as Doctor Who, and even big budget movies from the past have thus been lost forever, or exist only in edited form.  (Even an episode of John Cleese and Connie Booth’s hilarious “Faulty Towers” is missing footage cut for a later rebroadcast).  And, as incomprehensible as it seems, before releasing them on home video, studios today continue this practice of editing these priceless artifacts of entertainment history to conform to today’s politically-correct tastes. 


You never know what others will find of value, either today, or in the years to come.  If this story teaches us anything, it is that you cannot count upon others to treasure your work.  So if you believe what you have created has value, you must fight to preserve it, or risk losing it.  For yourself.  For everyone.  And forever.


In fighting to secure all rights to their material, Monty Python ensured that later generations would be able to enjoy these timeless shows so rich in truth, hilarity, and as (to adapt what their friend) Douglas Adams said, everything “to do with life.”  So thank you Monty Python, and especially Terry Gilliam and Michael Palin, you real-life crusaders, you!


Research for this blog post was entirely taken from Michael Palin Diaries 1969-1979: The Python Years, published by St. Martin’s Press.  And yes, to present his views in this abbreviated account, his entries were heavily edited.

Monty Python’s Crusade Part Two: “...For You”

In 1975, the ABC Network purchased the rights to Monty Python’s Season Four.  Instead of broadcasting each episode individually and in its entirety, the network chose to combine the six shows into two specials.  During this process, they made so many cuts to nearly every skit that the comedy team felt the American network had robbed their material of all artistic merit.  So in mid-December, Terry Gilliam and Michael Palin flew to America to fight for an injunction against ABC’s first scheduled broadcast on the December 26th.


The two were forced to cancel personal commitments, deprive their families of their presence during the holiday season, and give up days that could have been spent on more creative tasks.  After facing weather delays, the two men arrived in New York City, where they suffered the annoyances of jet lag and lost luggage.  They attempted to reach a satisfactory compromise with ABC, but after meeting with executives, realized that an out-of-court settlement was impossible.  So on December 19th, the two Englishmen walked into a New York City courtroom to take on the giant American network.


How does one describe a sketch to a court and make it sound funny?  How do you make the judge understand how ABC’s cuts robbed the material of its creators’ original intent?  And how does an Englishman explain why an aspect of his society that is wholly alien to American culture is not only funny but worth preserving for ABC’s viewers?  These were the dilemmas Michael Palin faced as he struggled to answer the judge’s detailed questions.  Later in the day, a TV was rolled into the courtroom and everyone squeezed in around the judge.  The format for the viewing was this: they would watch an episode from Season Four as it was originally transmitted by the BBC, then follow that with ABC’s highly-edited version. 


After considering the evidence, the judge decided that while Monty Python’s original material was irreparably damaged, he couldn’t issue an injunction.  However, he would consider ordering that a disclaimer from the group be placed at the beginning of each special.  While this wasn’t what the comedy team had sought, at least such a disclaimer would accomplish the group’s intent of making American viewers aware that these specials did not represent their original artistic vision.  So it appeared their efforts had not been wasted: Monty Python had won a compromise, if not out-right victory. 


While the men yearned to return home immediately, weather had delayed or canceled many flights.  All available planes returning to England seemed fully-booked.  Somehow, the men got themselves aboard an Air Iran flight to Tehran via Heathrow.  Back home in England after a difficult flight (and realizing that their luggage was on its way to Tehran), the two made up the time lost with their work and their families.  Then, on the day before Christmas, the bomb fell.  Gilliam and Palin learned that ABC had appealed the judge’s decision, and won.  The network would not be forced to transmit the following disclaimer: “The members of Monty Python wish to disassociate themselves from this program, which is a compilation of their shows edited by ABC without their approval.”  Instead, two days hence, all the network would be required to display before each special was: “Edited for television by ABC.”


So, as Michael Palin so eloquently put it, they had “tilted at windmills and lost.”  Yet this was not the end, but merely the beginning of the group's fight with the giant American network.


This story will conclude in Monty Python’s Crusade Part Three: “...And Forever.”


Research for this blog post was entirely taken from Michael Palin Diaries 1969-1979: The Python Years, published by St. Martin’s Press.  And yes, to present his views in this abbreviated account, his entries were heavily edited.

Monty Python’s Crusade Part One: “For Us”

The constant demands of life often beg us to cave in on issues that we care about.  After all, victories can be hard-won, and the more-usual compromises that result can leave a bitter taste in our mouths.  Worse are the fights we lose.  They make us wonder what we might have accomplished had we devoted our time, our energies, and our resources to another goal.  But worst of all is what happens when too many of our fights result in unsatisfactory compromises or losses.  Disillusionment saps our willpower, our resolution to continue to create, to be productive, and in the process help make the world a better place for everyone.  But sometimes it is necessary to fight in order to preserve what you have created, because the cost of not doing so can be truly terrible.


Not just for you, but for the entire world. 


In 1975, Monty Python, as a creative entity, was fracturing.  John Cleese had declined to participate in Season Four.  Each member had numerous outside commitments.  The process of combining each person’s talents and ideas was proving increasingly difficult.  And not only had BBC executives cut the normal series run down to six episodes, but they were editing the shows more heavily than in the past.  The group battled through all these issues, and produced six shows they felt reasonably proud of.  But then, in November of that year, an incident occurred which the team found so objectionable that they felt they must fight to preserve not only their reputation, but also the very essence of what they worked so hard to create.


The American ABC Network had bought Season Four, and reorganized the episodes into two specials for a scheduled December 26th broadcast.  The members were appalled by the numerous cuts made to nearly every skit.  To quote Michael Palin, “Any reference to bodily function, anything slightly risqué, anything, as Douglas Adams put it, ‘to do with life,’ was single-mindedly expunged.”  The group vowed to do what they could to let people in America know how thoroughly they disapproved of this emasculated version.


After spending thousands on legal advice, they determined that the best course of action was to seek an injunction.  To have any realistic hope of winning, members of the group would need to argue their case in a New York City courtroom.  So, after numerous weather delays and rescheduled flights, Terry Gilliam and Michael Palin flew to America. 


On December 18th, they met with representatives from ABC in a hotel, hoping to resolve the issue outside court.  The network’s position seemed to be that they were worried about offending viewers in more conservative states such as Iowa and Louisiana.  Ironically, PBS had been showing earlier Python episodes in those regions for over a year, and without complaint.  At this meeting, ABC offered the men a revised set of cuts to the group’s material.  Perhaps some artists would have accepted such a compromise, as the number of viewers that ABC could reach was drastically greater than those who watched PBS.  After all, wouldn’t it be better for American viewers to see some of Monty Python’s latest season, rather than nothing at all?  Michael Palin and Terry Gilliam dug in their heels, believing that the cuts the network insisted upon would rob their material of too much of its creators’ original artistic vision.


It is interesting to note that this incident occurs after the group made “Monty Python and the Holy Grail.”  Is it possible that such a sustained focus upon the person of King Arthur and upon Knights fighting against perceived injustices bolstered the group’s fighting spirits?  Would Terry Gilliam and Michael Palin have been willing to turn their backs on such a compromise had they not waged battles and stormed castles while making their movie?  While we can never know the answers to such musings, we do know that Gilliam and Palin rejected this compromise.  As unsavory as they found the prospect, these two men would have to battle the all-powerful American network in a New York City courtroom to preserve not only their reputations, but also the artistic merits of the Season Four episodes.


This story will continue in Monty Python’s Crusade Part Two: “...For You”


Research for this blog post was entirely taken from Michael Palin Diaries 1969-1979: The Python Years, published by St. Martin’s Press.  Ironically, in order to present his views in this abbreviated account, his entries had to be summarized, and yes, heavily edited.