Don’t Laugh at Me (part two – films and TV)

…Outside of Bruce Forsyth and Jimmy Tarbuck on Sunday Night at the London Palladium there was little in the way of stand-up comedy for we pre-teens in the late sixties and early seventies.  TV is what we had and, by and large, that meant old films…

…My first great comedy love was Groucho Marx: I would watch late-night Marx Brothers films on TV long after what should have been my bedtime – always after Match of the Day and The Odd Couple, long after my parents had departed for the night.  My earliest memory of laughing until I cried was at ‘Lydia the Tattooed Lady’ (At the Circus).  Groucho was inherently funny, although, unlike most of the comedians mentioned in part one of this piece, he relied heavily on script, particularly for the snappy one-liners for which he became so famous.  Without doubt in my mind, the king of the one-liner was Bob Monkhouse, a comedian who would, himself, never claim to be intrinsically funny, but who had the quickest mind of any I have ever seen.  A great joke writer and the writer of one of the greatest ever one-liners: “People laughed when I told them I was going to become a comedian – well, they’re not laughing now…” – a great comedian, but definitely no clown.  Taking up the baton from Groucho, my next great film love was the giant talent of Mel Brooks, most particularly in the films he made with Gene Wilder*.  The Producers, A Silent Movie, Young Frankenstein, Blazing Saddles, these were films that reduced me to a blubbering wreck.  Mr Brooks was decidedly (and wilfully) non-PC even back then – Lord knows what the censors would make of any of his films now.  I don’t suppose a single one of them could be made today – which is sadly why the world has got itself into the kind of state it is in…

…And I became, as all boys of my age, a complete devotee of Monty Python’s Flying Circus, staying up late to watch the show (Tuesday evening I seem to remember – my parents were never over-authoritarian over ‘bedtime’ and often left me watching TV downstairs long after they retired for the evening, secure in the knowledge that there was bugger-all to watch but the test-card after midnight) memorising entire sketches for repeat performance at school the next day.  I started to write ‘comedy’ at a very early age because all I wanted to be was the new member of the MP team.  John Cleese was, of course, the figurehead, but never my favourite Python.  He is an inspired clown, in the tradition of Charlie Chaplin, who always seemed to me to have to work just a little too hard to make it look like fun.  He found his apogee as Basil Fawlty in a truly brilliant and tightly scripted comedy masterpiece (Flowery Twats anyone?) that played to all of his strengths and carefully wrote out all of his weaknesses: his ‘loftiness’ and ‘pomposity’ were played for spectacular comic effect, and his ‘bubbles’ hilariously burst by (I believe) the script contributions of Connie Booth.

In fact I most enjoyed the final series of Python – yes, the one without Cleese – because it played into the hands of my own comic hero, Michael Palin.  This series was very much the precursor to Ripping Yarns, the best (in my ‘umble opinion) of all post-Python endeavours.  Palin is simply funny and he has the humility and approachability that is conspicuously absent (in the public persona, at least) of Mr Cleese.  Eric Idle (the George Harrison of the Pythons) shone brightly in Rutland Weekend Television and via The Ruttles became king of the comic song – so heavily featured in the most recent Python reunion (2014?  Surely not…) – and crucial to film and stage endeavours.  As for Graham Chapman, delightfully (and drunkenly) bonkers, sadly we will never know what more was to come from him…

Behind the closed door of my bedroom, the only TV being downstairs, a huge part of my comedy upbringing was via the long-lost comedy LP, listened to over and over again until every word, every nuance, was learned by some kind of osmosis – foremost amongst them being Monty Python Live at Drury Lane, Jasper Carrot’s Beat the Carrot, Rabbits On and On and Best Of (purchased solely for the inclusion of the seminal Magic Roundabout) and, of course, the wonderful (and, at that time, otherwise unbroadcastable) Big Yin Cop Yer Whack For This and Raw Meat for the Balcony – proving once again that great comedy could be heard and did not necessarily have to be seen**.  I wonder if anybody listens now?

*The one AND ONLY Willy Wonka.

**QV the magnificent Milligan and The Goon Show.

I’m not good-looking, I’m not too smart
I may be foolish but I’ve got a heart… Don’t Laugh at Me (‘Cause I’m a Fool) – Norman Wisdom (Seskin/Shamblin)