I'm getting way behind in my name-dropping here so let's play catch-up and I'm going to enlist my friend Steve Stoliar to help me. Last Saturday evening, we went to see a really terrible, unfunny movie called Monty Python and the Holy Grail.
You may have just read that last sentence twice (maybe even thrice) thinking, "Huh? That's one of the funniest films ever made!" Well, not at the Saban Theater last Saturday, it wasn't. We had poor seats for viewing it, the print wasn't great, the big screen wasn't that big, the sound quality wasn't that good and much of the audience seemed to think the point of showing the film at all was for them to prove how well they knew it by shouting all the lines out loud before the actors on the screen could utter them.
I had planned to take my friend Amber that night because she's never seen this usually-hilarious movie and I thought a theater-full of Python lovers would be the ideal audience with which to view it. Turned out I was wrong. Too many of them thought they were at The Rocky Horror Picture Show and too few of them laughed. In a way, I'm glad she had a sudden family matter to deal with and I took Steve instead.
And another reason I'm glad I took Steve is that when I finally sat down to write about the night, I realized he'd already done most of the heavy lifting for me on his Facebook page. Here, with his permission, is what he wrote there. It may help if I remind you that when Steve was but a mere college student, he had a job as the personal secretary/aide to one Julius "Groucho" Marx…
Last night, I had a certifiably splendiferous experience. A couple of days earlier, I'd gotten a call from my pal, Mark Evanier, telling me that his date for the evening was unable to attend and was I interested in accompanying him to a screening of Monty Python and the Holy Grail at the Saban Theatre in Beverly Hills, after which a Mr. John Cleese would be doing Q&A? I leapt at the chance.
Mark's seats turned out to be very close to the stage (3rd row), but way off to the side, which is not the best way to watch a motion picture — but — it was a terrific vantage point from which to observe the post-film Q&A. The only sour note was the asshole sitting behind us who decided to impress everyone within earshot by reciting the dialogue along with the film. I turned around twice and glared at him. Nothing. Mark turned around and glared at him. Nothing. Finally, I turned around and said, "Please stop doing that."
He leaned forward and said, "Oh, so we're not supposed to talk during a movie we've all seen a million times?!" I said, "That's right." Then the guy on the other side of me turned around and reiterated, "No, you're not." The asshole's recitation subsided for a while, but then he continued, off and on, and I tried to tune him out as best I could, because getting into a useless fight with this jerk wasn't worth missing out on the movie. It had been quite some time since I'd seen Grail and I did laugh frequently.
After the film, Cleese's lovely actress-comedian daughter, Camilla, came out and introduced her 78-year-old father, who strode out to a thunderous standing ovation, waved, bowed, thanked everyone, and then exited the stage. Camilla coaxed him back and they did a wonderful Q&A based on questions audience members had written down on blue cards before the show (I didn't ask anything).
Cleese was very warm, engaging, and funny (big surprise). He talked about the film, his Python mates, Fawlty Towers (adamant about giving ex-wife Connie Booth credit for having co-written the scripts), his mother, and various other things.
After he and Camilla wrapped up their chat, an announcer said that people who had VIP wristbands to meet-and-greet Mr. Cleese and have their picture taken were to remain in the theatre. As Mark and I were filing out, I said, "Can't we pretend we have VIP tickets and get our picture taken?"
He said, "We'd have to pretend, because we don't have them." Oh well; it was still a great night. We figured we'd take what Cavett calls "a prophylactic piss" before heading out into the cold night air, but the line up the stairs to the men's room was quite daunting, so we figured we'd stick around in the lobby and wait for it to die down.
Shortly thereafter, voice-over legend Maurice LaMarche stopped to talk to Mark, with whom he'd worked on a number of occasions. He said he and his wife had VIP tickets to get their photos taken, but they had to take off and did we want their wristbands? If not, they would just go to waste.
In fact, we did. So after using the men's room, we got in line to meet-and-greet Mr. Cleese and have our pictures taken. Despite all the legendary people Mark and I have met, known, worked with, and befriended over the years, we were just two fans waiting to shake hands with a comedy giant (literally and figuratively).
John Cleese and Steve Stoliar
I was mightily impressed with how warm, patient, and personable Cleese was with each fan. There was no sense of "Smile! Click! Now on your way!" He seemed happy to chat, if briefly, with his public. When it was my turn, I shook his hand and said, "Thank you for more than I can possibly articulate." He appreciated that, then laughed at the sight of my "NO TRUMP" button.
I told him I used to write for Dick Cavett and he said, "I did a play once with his wife." I said, "Carrie Nye. She could be intimidating when you first meet her, but she was actually quite warm and friendly." He agreed. I mentioned having worked for Groucho and his eyes lit up. After we posed for our photo, he said, "Stick around in the lobby and we can chat afterward." Fine with me.
So Mark and I hung out in the lobby and, after Cleese had interacted with his adoring VIP wristband wearers, he exited the room — and patiently signed autographs for fans who had brought stuff to sign, but hadn't shelled out for VIP tickets. After he was done, I reminded him that he'd asked me to stick around. Handlers were trying to hurry him out to his awaiting tour bus, but he wanted to know what Groucho was like, how old he was at the time, etc. I told him a couple of brief Groucho-and-me anecdotes and he laughed heartily — and he was amused/intrigued that Zeppo and I had dated the same girl. Then he really did have to go.
A completely unexpected and wondrous experience, thanks to the generosity of Mark, Maurice LaMarche, and — of course — Mr. Cleese.
ME again. This was about the sixth or seventh time I've heard John Cleese in person, speaking or being interviewed and I've heard all the other Pythons, save for Graham Chapman but I had the pleasure (which it was) to lunch with him about a quarter-century ago. I've always been impressed not so much with how witty they were — one expects that — but with how wise they all were. These are — or in Mr. Chapman's case, were — very smart men.
I was also impressed, as was Steve, with how nice Cleese was. I know he was making a lot of money for being there but he didn't have to be as polite and engaged with everyone as he was. He genuinely seemed to want to stay around longer and talk with us. Maybe it's just that he's a good actor but I don't think it was that.
Naturally, I got a photo with him and this may be the only picture I have of myself actually laughing. Steve went before me and told Cleese about working with Dick Cavett and Groucho. Then when I followed Steve to the position before the camera, I said, "I hope he didn't tell you those lies about working for Dick Cavett and Groucho Marx." Cleese laughed and said, "Are you a writer, too?"
I said I was and I added, "And I've made a damn good living plagiarizing from you." While smiling for the photographer, he muttered, "You and half the known universe" and the way he said it is what I'm laughing at in the picture.
Like Steve, I've been around a lot of people I admired for their comedic abilities and had my picture taken with quite a few of 'em. I think this was only the second time someone was paid for posing with me (this first was Marty Allen) and this time, I didn't even pay. Maurice LaMarche did.
He did a very nice thing for Steve and me because while the photo itself wasn't all that exciting, those few minutes of one-on-one with Basil Fawlty were absolutely delightful. I've occasionally been disappointed by heroes I've met and I'm still smiling about that not being the case this time. And yes, I'm still amazed at how unfunny Monty Python and the Holy Grail can be in a roomful of people who think they're doing Mystery Science Theater 3000.
