And Now For Something Completely Different:
The Beatles and Monty Python

Much has been made over the years about the Beatles’ relationship with other groups. The ‘rivalry’ between the Beatles and the Rolling Stones, the manner by which Rubber Soul sparked the harmonic masterclass that was Pet Sounds, and how Paul’s ‘Helter Skelter’ was inspired by the feral power of the Who. Much less, however, has been said about the Beatles’ relationship with another key ‘group’ borne of the sixties, Monty Python. Of course, there’s nothing particularly surprising about this. It’s natural to compare products of the same media, less common to critically ‘mix and match.’ Yet in a sense, the Beatles and Monty Python share a number of important similarities, both in terms of their humour, styles and influences, and both before and after the Beatles disbanded, their personal, financial and artistic paths have crossed on several occasions. Tthere were also a number of close personal friendships within the groups. It came as little surprise to those in the Beatles’ ‘inner circle’ that Michael Palin was called upon so heavily by the media to eulogise George, with whom he had maintained three decades of friendship, having first met  at a recording studio in 1972.

In a sense, the first time their artistic paths indirectly ‘crossed’ really happened with Magical Mystery Tour, two years before the formation of Python, and before any of the ‘official’ members had actually met. (Cleese and Chapman first met Ringo in 1969 during the production of The Magic Christian). Part of the humorous surrealism of that film was informed by the surreal satire of At Last the 1948 Show (1967), written in part by fledgling Pythons, John Cleese and Graham Chapman. By the same token, parts of the film seem to have been echoed in later Python works, perhaps most notably, the Mr Creosote section of The Meaning of Life (1983), which bears a very close resemblance to John’s ‘dream’ sequence in Magical Mystery Tour, where he is seen shovelling huge quantities of spaghetti onto Auntie Jessie’s plate. On a more direct level, the film included the hilarious appearance of the Bonzos, a group which Paul also part-produced, and which featured Neil Innes, who became a close Python collaborator and, along with Eric Idle, co-creator of the remarkable Beatles spoof, The Rutles: All You Need is Cash (1978).

Interestingly, Michael Palin revealed in his recent, and rather magnificent diaries, that Magical Mystery Tour had also been considered for re-release in the mid-seventies, as a double bill with the Python’s own early feature film effort, Monty Python and the Holy Grail (1975).

We’ve already discussed the involvement of John Cleese and Graham Chapman in the writing of Ringo’s film The Magic Christian, but it might also be worth remembering that this movie also featured two former Goons, Peter Sellers and Spike Milligan, and it’s interesting to reflect that both Python and the Beatles adored, and were influenced by the Goons. While the Python influences have been well documented and discussed, the Beatles affection for the Goons is less commonly known, but as Richard Lester and Paul McCartney have both mentioned, one of the main reasons for the selection of Lester as the director of A Hard Day’s Night was the Beatles’ admiration of The Running Jumping and Standing Still Film (1959) which Lester made with Sellers, and which informs, to an extent, the visual style and surreal flourishes of A Hard Day’s Night. Sellers was, interestingly, a huge fan of the Beatles, and their music, lovingly creating his own parody/pastiches with 1964 recordings of ‘Can’t Buy Me Love’ and ‘A Hard Day’s Night’ (hilariously played out in Shakespearean lament). I remember some years ago when working with Denis O’Dell on At the Apple’s Core, he told me that Peter Sellers, having a very long dark night of the soul, had once called him up in the middle of the night to request a copy of George’s All Things Must Pass LP, presumably seeking some kind of solace in its themes of spiritual and moral restoration and exploration.

Of course, the Pythons and Beatles personal and artistic relationships would continue long after the Beatles had split. Ringo made and appearance on a 1972 edition of the show, and in 1976 Eric Idle directed Harrison’s promo for the single ‘Crackerbox Palace’ (also featuring Graham Chapman). And it was arguably George’s friendship with Eric Idle that would lead to the most significant collaborations between members of both groups.

The Rutles: All You Need is Cash made in 1978 and written by Eric Idle benefitted from direct input from both George and John. While George, who had already appeared performing the ‘Pirate Song’ (as ‘Pirate Bob’) on Rutland Weekend Television actually appeared in the film and acted as an advisor, Lennon was also, albeit much more distantly, in on the joke, advising Innes advice that the song ‘Get Up and Go’ might land him in court for copyright infringement. McCartney’s response was said to be somewhat more cautious, but I’ve never heard him publicly comment on the film. Certainly, the finished production is arguably one of the finest solo Python offerings (though Palin does appear as a ‘Derek Taylor’ figure), and was certainly an influence on such subsequent ‘mockumentaries’ as The Comic Strip’s Bad News and Rob Reiner’s hugely endearing This is Spinal Tap (1984).

 Yet despite the brilliance of The Rutles as a hugely affectionate parody of the Beatles artistic legacy, the key point at which the Beatles and Python paths converge most significantly is in 1979 and the production of Monty Python’s Life of Brian, the then highly controversial and much loved spoof Biblical epic considered by most to be the apex of Python’s achievements. The film was effectively born of George Harrison’s friendship with Eric Idle and his disappointment when EMI, the film’s original financiers, pulled out because of its potentially ‘blasphemous’ controversy. Harrison, not wishing to see the film go unmade, put up his own money, and effectively, in doing so, created Handmade films in the process. This paved the way for what Idle would later call ‘the world’s most expensive cinema ticket.’ Along with Spike Milligan, he also makes a brief cameo appearance in the film, as Mr Papadopoulos, who is seen briefly with Brian, shaking hands in a crowd scene.

Life of Brian has subsequently gone on to become the most enduring British comedies, and in a 2006 poll, Channel Four named it the greatest comedy film of all time. The creation of Handmade also led to the production of a number of now classic British films of the eighties, including the cult comedy Withnail and I (1987), and hugely popular gangster movie, The Long Good Friday (1980) which helped to launch the career of Bob Hoskins. Moreover, many of the more prominent Handmade films were Python related productions, including The Missionary (1982) and A Private Function (1984), which starred Michael Palin, Time Bandits (1981) directed by Terry Gilliam and featuring John Cleese and Michael Palin, the Eric Idle feature Nuns on the Run (1990) and Python’s own Live at the Hollywood Bowl (1982) film, essentially a document of their live US appearances of the era featuring many of the best known sketches from their TV shows. Although Handmade inevitably could not ultimately ‘save’ the British film industry from the financial and critical mauling it suffered so heavily in the eighties (a ‘false dawn’ if ever there was one), it was an important and significant company which backed some of the most memorable films of an otherwise fairly culturally barren period.

Ultimately though, what links the Beatles and Python more than any other single production is their spirit of creativity. I remarked in At the Apple’s Core that Python were ‘to do for comedy what the Beatles had done for pop.’ Both groups seemed informed by a surrealist aesthetic, a wildly original approach and exploratory attitude to the form and style of their respective crafts, a keen awareness of satire (however surreal at times), a frequently gentle and affectionate mockery of English establishment traditions and pomposity, a democratic ideal of creativity, and a refusal to bask in former glories. Harrison once claimed that the spirit of the Beatles had somehow passed into Python, and Lennon reportedly said that he would rather have been a member of Python than the Beatles. I’m glad he wasn’t, but listen carefully to You Know My Name (Look Up the Number) and you will hear a song that is rooted in almost the exact same comedic sensibility and influence of the Goons which would permeate the Pythons work through the seventies and beyond.

© Bob Neaverson 1997 - 2008