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Lovingly ripped off: the cast of Monty
Python’s Spamalot. |
Look
on the Bright Side
By
Kathryn Lange
Monty
Python’s Spamalot
Book
& Lyrics by Eric Idle, Music by John Du Prez and Eric
Idle, Directed by Mike Nichols
Proctors
Theatre, through Jan. 13
Not every musical opens with an announcement to “please let
your cell phones and pagers ring willy-nilly,” and has the
audience laughing at jokes before actors even deliver the
punchline. Not every musical interrupts itself before the
first number and mistakenly cuts to Moose Village, Finland,
for a traditional “Fisch Schlapping Song.” And not every musical
includes a song-and-dance performed by a cart full of plague-ridden
corpses. But Spamalot, the Tony Award-winning musical
“lovingly ripped off from the motion picture Monty Python
and the Holy Grail,” is certainly not just any musical.
It is the kind of musical in which the mythical King Arthur
(Michael Siberry) and his tabbard-and-tights-clad Knights
of the Round Table perform a lively tap dance in “a dark and
very expensive forest,” whistling and spinning smiling sunshine
umbrellas. It is the kind of musical in which the leading
lady (Esther Stilwell)—yet to appear in Act 2—storms onto
a darkened stage, and shakes the house with a number driven
by the lyric, “Whatever happened to my part?” It is the kind
of musical in which the romantic duet opens with “Once in
every show there comes a song like this.” And, later, a booming
voice emanating from the giant cartoon cut-out feet of God
(John Cleese, recorded) declares, “Of course it’s a good idea
you stupid tit, I’m God!”
With book and lyrics penned by original Monty Python member
Eric Idle, and music by John Du Prez, who collaborated with
Monty Python on Life of Brian, The Meaning of Life,
and other projects, Spamalot could not be more true
to the spirit of Python. Much of the script is lifted directly
from the film, and the cast (for the most part) handles the
classic material with comedic timing that respectfully echoes
the original. The songs and new bits deliver Broadway glitz,
but hold true to the droll and outlandish wit that define
Monty Python.
The set and costume designs by Tim Hatley masterfully evoke
the art and animation of Monty Python actor and animator Terry
Gilliam, from the whimsically clunky clouds and the grail-clutching
hand of God to the aformentioned “very expensive forest.”
The playing space is truly that—space for playing—and the
actors attack the mountains and courtyards with vigor. The
pallete shifts wildly between crisp and vivid Vegas glam,
and filth-covered parchment—there’s not one moment when you
can guess what will come next.
Despite apparent sound trouble in Act 1 that had the actors
pushing to fill the theater and a few peripheral adjusting-to-the-new-stage
moments, the cast was delightful, and returned after intermission
to hit the back of the house with ease. Michael Siberry seemed
to be channelling Tim Curry as King Arthur, his casual physicalities,
his intonations, his grimaces. It was almost eerie, and brilliantly
successful for a touring production, intended to offer the
closest possible on-the-go interpretation of the original
Broadway show. The scenes between Siberry’s Arthur and Jeff
Dumas as his loyal squire, Patsy, are some of the show’s best.
Dumas delivers Broadway with ease, energy and honesty reminiscent
of Gene Kelly—only shorter, plumper, and burdened with all
of Arthur’s belongings. The pair play off each other with
charm; it takes true acting chops to render a song that includes
the lyrics, “I’m all alone/No you’re not, I’m here you twat!,”
one of the most genuinely touching moments of the play.
The rapid doubling, part of the silliness that infused the
original film, demanded unwavering energy from some actors,
and Christopher Sutton (Not Dead Fred, Prince Herbert, Historian,
Minstrel, French Guard) and Patrick Heusinger (French Taunter,
Knight of Ni, Tim the Enchanter, and “the homocidally brave
Sir Lancelot”) lived up to the call, commanding many of the
night’s biggest laughs.
Spamalot
is an energetic, musical in-joke for fans of Broadway, Monty
Python, and history. The pure, silly joy of the show is escalating
and infectious—at curtain the audience was on its feet, clapping
and singing the Python classic “Always Look on the Bright
Side of Life.” It’s canned ham and softshoe, it’s funny as
hell, and it’s a damn good reminder to laugh at yourself once
in a while.
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