Monty Python and the Holy GrailThere are generally two kinds of people in the world: those who will immediately begin quoting their favorite lines at length after being reminded of Monty Python and the Holy Grail, and those who have yet to see the movie. Monty Python and the Holy Grail is a farcical comedy (not to be confused with a certain aquatic ceremony involving women in ponds distributing swords) about King Arthur (Graham Chapman) and his quest for the eponymous Holy Grail, and all the wacky misadventures that follow.
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Monty Python and the Holy Grail takes the first part of its bizarre title from the comedy troupe also called "Monty Python", which began in the late Sixties with their acclaimed comedy show, "Monty Python's Flying Circus". Their brand of offbeat and bizarre--even surreal--comedy set a new standard for British humor. Their talent for conjuring yuks is evident in spades here--in their second film--which includes the aforementioned Chapman, as well as John Cleese (as Sir Lancelot), Michael Palin (as Sir Galahad), Eric Idle (as "brave" Sir Robin), and Terry Jones (as Sir Bedevere). Although Monty Python and the Holy Grail satires medieval dramas like The Seventh Seal--there is even a sly nod in the opening credits to the Swedish film--this film is a far different animal. To describe Monty Python and the Holy Grail in terms of plot is to say it is like "Le Morte d'Arthur" by Sir Thomas Malory reinterpreted by an autistic child. In keeping with that strange metaphor, the film also uses animated interludes like comedic punctuation--looking like an illuminated manuscript penned by a lunatic. Monty Python and the Holy Grail is a deliberately self-aware film, and the cast and crew gleefully exploit this for laughs. This includes references to knights like the aptly-named "Sir Not-Appearing-In-This-Film", and moments like the (sometimes edited out) scene where Galahad encounters the winsome Zoot (Carol Cleveland) in the oddly named Castle Anthrax--she even breaks the proverbial fourth wall by directly (and ironically) asking the audience whether this scene is worth keeping in the final film. The humor in Monty Python and the Holy Grail is designed to unseat the audience's expectations, like the protracted joke at the beginning of the film, implying for several minutes that the film that is playing--something called "Dentist on the Job"--is an error. And from here, the film goes straight down the proverbial rabbit hole of wackiness and sarcasm. Arthur gallops around England with his faithful servant, Patsy (Terry Gilliam), who trails behind him, banging coconuts together to simulate the sounds of a cantering horse--and he is not alone, since all his knights (pronounced "nights", to you French persons out there with outrageous accents) do the same thing. His encounters with his fellow Britons are uniformly odd, as he discovers his serfs and neighbors to be unusually well-educated about trivial minutia, like highly-specific forms of democratic government and the average velocity of a swallow (be it African or European). Once Arthur assembles his mythic Knights of the Round Table, he is condescended to (literally and figuratively) by God, who for presumably arbitrary reasons gives him a quest so important, it prompts yet another title card.
As evidenced by this essay, it is virtually impossible to describe Monty Python and the Holy Grail without making a multitude of copious nods to its witty, outlandish, and irreverent humor. So popular have the dialogue and jokes of the film been, that they have worked their way into all manner of other corners of the comedy zeitgeist--sometimes even recognizable to those who have yet to see the movie. Surely when one hears, "'tis but a flesh wound", the image of an overly-tenacious black knight sans arms springs (hops?) to mind. The humorous addendum of "and there was much rejoicing" wouldn't be inappropriate if innocuously inserted as a rider to some unrelated comical observation--it comes from the savory fate of Robin's obnoxious minstrel one cold winter. Even the dreaded lagomorph with vorpal teeth--the killer Rabbit of Caerbannog--is one of the more infamously outrageous set pieces, coyly referenced in such places as the fantasy video game, "Dragon's Crown". The sheer ineptitude of Arthur and his knights is hilarious, and their adventuring often puts them into situations where they only make things worse--like Lancelot zealously besieging a wedding, only to discover the presumed damsel in distress is a waif of a prince, a revelation which clearly deflates his "idiom". When Bedevere suggests recycling the "Trojan horse" strategy--foreshadowing the killer rabbit later, it would seem--to infiltrate one of the (surprisingly numerous) French fortifications dotting the English landscape, the plan carries the unfortunate flaw that the knights must actually be inside the rabbit for it to work. (To be fair, though, they probably would've just been catapulted out with all the other assorted livestock.) Perhaps it comes from feigning riding on horseback across the countryside, but what the Knights of the Round Table are the most skilled at is their ability to "run away" with gusto--it sure isn't Arthur's ability to count to "three". Even scenes that build up to some massive action set piece--like the climactic assault on the "Castle of Aaaaargh"--are abruptly cut short by more absurd interjections, keeping the spirit of the film always pointed toward silliness and light-hearted charm. Monty Python and the Holy Grail represents a highwater mark for cult films, one which has managed to transcend mere comedy and end up as a kind of cultural icon, making perpetual stars of these talented comedians.
Recommended for: Fans of a crazy and outlandish comedy, one which serves as a perfect entry point to the absurd comedy stylings of Monty Python. If you've ever been around when someone lets one of the lines from the film slip--and before you know it, everyone's joining in--you can likely appreciate the monumental appeal that the film has left on pop culture and cult films.
As evidenced by this essay, it is virtually impossible to describe Monty Python and the Holy Grail without making a multitude of copious nods to its witty, outlandish, and irreverent humor. So popular have the dialogue and jokes of the film been, that they have worked their way into all manner of other corners of the comedy zeitgeist--sometimes even recognizable to those who have yet to see the movie. Surely when one hears, "'tis but a flesh wound", the image of an overly-tenacious black knight sans arms springs (hops?) to mind. The humorous addendum of "and there was much rejoicing" wouldn't be inappropriate if innocuously inserted as a rider to some unrelated comical observation--it comes from the savory fate of Robin's obnoxious minstrel one cold winter. Even the dreaded lagomorph with vorpal teeth--the killer Rabbit of Caerbannog--is one of the more infamously outrageous set pieces, coyly referenced in such places as the fantasy video game, "Dragon's Crown". The sheer ineptitude of Arthur and his knights is hilarious, and their adventuring often puts them into situations where they only make things worse--like Lancelot zealously besieging a wedding, only to discover the presumed damsel in distress is a waif of a prince, a revelation which clearly deflates his "idiom". When Bedevere suggests recycling the "Trojan horse" strategy--foreshadowing the killer rabbit later, it would seem--to infiltrate one of the (surprisingly numerous) French fortifications dotting the English landscape, the plan carries the unfortunate flaw that the knights must actually be inside the rabbit for it to work. (To be fair, though, they probably would've just been catapulted out with all the other assorted livestock.) Perhaps it comes from feigning riding on horseback across the countryside, but what the Knights of the Round Table are the most skilled at is their ability to "run away" with gusto--it sure isn't Arthur's ability to count to "three". Even scenes that build up to some massive action set piece--like the climactic assault on the "Castle of Aaaaargh"--are abruptly cut short by more absurd interjections, keeping the spirit of the film always pointed toward silliness and light-hearted charm. Monty Python and the Holy Grail represents a highwater mark for cult films, one which has managed to transcend mere comedy and end up as a kind of cultural icon, making perpetual stars of these talented comedians.
Recommended for: Fans of a crazy and outlandish comedy, one which serves as a perfect entry point to the absurd comedy stylings of Monty Python. If you've ever been around when someone lets one of the lines from the film slip--and before you know it, everyone's joining in--you can likely appreciate the monumental appeal that the film has left on pop culture and cult films.