Whose Line is it Anyway?...Live

On Sunday 9^th June I attended Whose Line Is it Anyway?...Live at the London Palladium. It was a dream come true; even though the original Whose Line TV show ended in 1998, I became aware of it when Dave (or the Top Gear channel) started airing reruns several years ago. I was hooked, and with the exception of The Simpsons I don’t think I have seen anything funnier on TV. I attended the show hoping that this live version would live up to my memories of the TV incarnation.

A bit of background: Whose Line is it Anyway? was an improvisational comedy programme that ran on Channel 4 between 1988-1998. Four performers would be called upon to act out a series of improvisation games, often based on suggestions from the audience and host Clive Anderson. Originally the show had an extremely highbrow tone (frequent panellists included Stephen Fry and John Sessions), but over time the programme leaned towards a broader, less exclusive style of comedy, which came to be embodied by series regulars Colin Mochrie and Ryan Stiles. Whose Line was such a success that it was eventually transplanted wholesale to the United States, where it can still be seen today.

The stage version of the show had been advertised as a combination of both the UK and US versions, which was fine with me as I love them both. Performing would be the incredibly quick-witted Colin Mochrie, the razor sharp Greg Proops, the wonderful Josie Lawrence, the delightful Brad Sherwood, and the effortlessly suave Jeff Davis. Clive Anderson would handle hosting duties, and the music (also improvised) would be performed by Laura Hall on piano and Linda Taylor on guitar.

Entering the grand yet surprisingly intimate London Palladium, I was interested to see that the audience was mostly made up of people under 30, many of whom (like myself) would not have been born when Whose Line first aired. Surveying the crowd, I noticed a pair of faces peeking out from a door at the side of the stage, who I recognised as series creators Mark Leveson and Dan Patterson. As the theatre gradually filled up, they looked both delighted and slightly humbled.

Before I could decide whether or not to go over and bother them with questions, the house lights dimmed, the music playing over the PA system was suddenly replaced with a live piano, and we were underway. The first thing that struck me as the performers made their way on to the stage was that none of them seemed to have aged since 1998. But it wasn't just their appearances that hadn’t changed; their comic talents had also been unaffected by the passing years. Greg and Clive reanimated their friendly US vs UK banter, and Josie, Brad and Jeff all distinguished themselves during the musical games. Colin, meanwhile, proved that he is still hilarious without Ryan Stiles, displaying superb chemistry with all the other performers. Although the show was essentially the comedy equivalent of a greatest hits parade (all the great games like Party Quirks, World’s Worst and Hoedown were played), there were some new ones (including a game called Handbags, where two audience members volunteered their handbags to the improvisers, who then used the often-embarrassing and sometimes inexplicable contents as props in a sketch), and plenty of opportunities for audience interaction.

All in all, this was a great show. The cast have been working together for decades now and clearly enjoy each other’s company, and it’s always gratifying to watch people who are the very best at what they do. The production had a suitably loose, off-the-cuff feel, replicating the rawness of the British TV show as opposed to the slickness of the American version. Also, the very nature of the show means that you could, if you wanted, go to every show and see a totally different performance each time! It’s a tempting idea, but I’m happy to wait until their next run of shows. Since Whose Line is it Anyway? clearly remains immensely popular, I‘m sure that they’ll be back sooner rather than later.

Monty Python's The Meaning of Life (1983)

There are some things that, for whatever reason, just go together. Eggs and bacon, tea and biscuits, chips and mayonnaise (much better than ketchup). It’s especially impressive when this extraordinary degree of chemistry occurs between people, and this is undoubtedly the case with the six members of the legendary comedy troupe Monty Python. With a ground-breaking TV show (Monty Python’s Flying Circus) and two wonderful feature films (Monty Python and the Holy Grail and Monty Python’s Life of Brian) already under their belts, in 1983 Graham Chapman, John Cleese, Terry Gilliam, Eric Idle, Terry Jones and Michael Palin turned their attention to their most ambitious project yet: The Meaning of Life.

In keeping with the Python tradition of doing things the unconventional way, The Meaning of Life does not have a plot. Instead, the film is broken up into segments dealing with the different stages of life: The Miracle of Birth, Growth and Learning, Fighting Each Other, Middle Age, Live Organ Transplants (of course), The Autumn Years, and Death. It could be argued that the film suffers from the absence of a story or a central character (the straight leading parts played by Graham Chapman in Holy Grail and Life of Brian played a crucial role in anchoring the craziness), but the sketches are woven together so skilfully the that the lack of a narrative becomes a non-issue.

The sketch-based format is reminiscent of the original TV show, and, like on that show, some work better than others. However, that’s actually part of the appeal. One of the great aspects of Flying Circus was that the sketches tended to either work perfectly or fall spectacularly flat; mediocrity was not an option. Fortunately the highs vastly outnumber the lows; there are the doctors who are too busy showing off their expensive hospital equipment to pay any attention to their patient; a vicar who leads his congregation through an excessively grovelling prayer (“Forgive us for this our dreadful toadying” Congregation: “And barefaced flattery”); a one-sided boys vs schoolmasters rugby match at a terrifying boarding school; a platoon of soldiers who decide to throw their captain a surprise party in the middle of a battle; and memorable musical numbers like "The Galaxy Song" and "Every Sperm is Sacred". The Python brand of humour is sometimes taken to extremes (see the morbidly obese Mr Creosote, who vomits all over a posh restaurant before eating so much that he explodes; or a humourless schoolmaster’s alarmingly frank sex education lesson; not to mention the aforementioned Live Organ Transplants, which is exactly what it sounds like and twice as gory), but there is something liberating about the way in which the film refuses to shy away from taboo subjects like death and sex. England is famous for Not Really Talking About That Sort Of Thing, so it’s nice to get it all out in the open.

Monty’ Python’s The Meaning of Life is a glorious mess, and a last hurrah of sorts for the venerable comedy troupe. While its extremely irreverent brand of humour won’t be for everyone, you get the sense that the Pythons had a strange fondness for the various institutions that they poked fun at, and this prevents the comedy from ever seeming cruel. This underlying warmth is best displayed when the meaning of life is revealed at the end of the film:

“Well, it’s nothing special really. Try and be nice to people, avoid eating fat, read a good book every now and then, get some walking in, and try to live in peace and harmony with people of all creeds and nations.”

And that just about sums it up!

Mini-Review: The Crimson Permanent Assurance (1983)

Monty Python’s The Meaning of Life is supported by this short feature directed by Terry Gilliam, about the ageing members of a small company who decide overthrow their new owners, The Very Big Corporation of America. It’s a wonderfully imaginative swashbuckling adventure, and the special effects are still impressive more than three decades later.