Monty Python’s Life of Brian – 1979 | 94 mins | Comedy | Colour

Plot Synopsis

This is the Python masterpiece. Probably easily getting into people’s lists of top five comedy films of all time. A glorious cascade of Python moments, linked by the common theme of lampooning organised religion, this is the most sustained and film-like film the team ever made. A strong narrative, a fine starring turn from Graham Chapman, galaxies of nutty cameos and an almost complete refusal to mock the medium of film, also a polished and cleverly crafted script. Right from the first sequence with Jesus declaring his thoughts on the mount, the concept of religion is misrepresented and misinformed. Humour comes from the classic big nose (obvious ultimate insult of the time for Palin’s leper and Cleese in Centurion mode both later adopt it) battle between Idle and Palin, while Jones stands as one of the most embarrassing mother figures ever. Chapman’s one-shoed, un-ambitious prophet and the stunned silence as his impassioned expletive doesn’t get through to them – Cleese memorably mutters ‘How shall we f*** off oh Lord?

Chapman’s anti-Roman slogan branded on the wall of the palace is tantamount to war, but Cleese is less impressed with his Latin skills than his revolutionary behaviour. Turning on the overbearing school punishment motif, Cleese clearly has a ball making the brilliantly nervy Chapman squirm with total fear, breathlessly trying to correct his mistake with every knowing hint from the master, energetically tugging at his ear for major effect – it’s a flapper for me! A hero of the movement for doing the fullest bit of graffiti works in the history of mankind. Chapman is embraced by the brother/sisterhood of the movement, just in time for the daring kidnap plan talked to death by the cowardly Cleese and started by the almighty, unsurpassable What Have the Romans Ever Done For Us? This is followed by the discussion with the Jewish followers listing the important innovations from their enemy. Idle’s expressions, Palin’s cheerful agreement and Cleese, in ultimate bombastic mood, make this one of the funniest pieces of film you are ever likely to come across.

At this stage it’s just an audience with Palin’s speech impaired Governor -Python’s ultimate illustration that innuendo silliness is just as funny as satirical cleverness. Palin’s stumbling over mispronounced R’s in words like ‘spirit’, Cleese only getting through (sorry, thwough) to him by mimicking his phrasing of throw him to the floor, and, finally, the onslaught of joke names which aren’t that funny to Palin. As the guards around him suppress smiles from Palin’s slow, methodical pronunciations of Biggus Dickus, they gradually fail the test and explode into bursts of laughter.

The immortal Terry Jones sequence as his holy man breaks his silence vows, protects his juniper bushes and meets the unwanted wrath of Chapman’s bloodthirsty, devout horde of believers stands at the very hub of the comedy. Finding miracles in the most obvious things and effortlessly highlighting their own misplaced beliefs with Charles McKeown’s truly outstanding blind man with newly found sight as he tumbles into the hole. This is the anti-obsession of religious belief in definitive terms. A night of passion with Judith may calm Brian, as he discontentedly realises that what his followers want to think he said is far more important than what he really says. The braying crowd that meets his satisfied full-frontal figure at the window, outrages his mother, prompts Idle’s impersonal question about her virginity and cracks the most telling gag about individuality as the crowd agree with one voice except Baylor, who waits for quiet and contradictory cries ‘I’m not!’ Anyway, it’s too late, Reg and the lad’s pontificate about helping Brian out but the crucifixion order has already come through. Palin’s thoughtful understanding counsellor chappie whispers his instructions but is happily stopped in his tracks by Eric Idle’s Max Miller-like banter about freedom and islands. It is a sense of cheerful humour that will later see his release as the infamous ‘Bwian’ and Chapman’s martyrdom for the cause.

However, that’s not until Idle and Gilliam have jabbered away, the military-styled crucifixion party has left and Terry Jones as the white figure of mercy has got trapped by his own kindness, ending up with Langharn’s cross and enriching the ever cheerful Idle with a bit of a giggle. The final crucifixion scene continues the underlining theme of human intolerance, while Chapman heartfelt beliefs count for nothing as his nutty colleagues sing ‘For he’s a jolly good fellow’, his love celebrates his brave death for his uncommitted beliefs and even his own mother rejects him. For a few seconds as Chapman movingly shouts ‘Mum! Mum!’ and the camera remains on his beaten expression, this is as emotive as Python gets. It shows Chapman as a powerful film actor and brilliantly sets the scene for Idle’s comic performance of Always Look On the Bright Side Of Life.

As those who are about to die sing along with the up-tempo ditty, suicide squad’s feet begin to tap and, finally even Chapman joins in, the camera pans away to show the skyline littered with merrymaking crucifixion victims. Bad taste in the eyes of those who aren’t on the wavelength, this has to be one of the greatest endings to any comedy movie anywhere. As Idle’s commercially minded speech complements the continued song, the image fades to black closing a masterpiece of British humour.

Review© Robert Ross: Monty Python Encyclopedia.