Amazon.com reviews for
"Monty Python's Flying Circus" (1969)

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Monty Python's Flying Circus - Season 3 (vhs):

Amazon.com video review: This set contains the 12 "persistently silly" episodes from Monty Python's third and final full season (the ones introduced by Terry Jones's naked keyboardist). The quality of the sketches is not as consistent as in the first two seasons, but no Monty Python collection is complete without such series benchmarks as Njorl's Saga, an exciting Icelandic tale appropriated by the North Malden Icelandic Society; the Argument Clinic sketch; Gumby brain surgery; and the Fish-Slapping Dance, which Michael Palin is on record as saying is his personal favorite bit of Python nonsense.

A warning to more sensitive viewers: There is "material that some may find offensive, but which is really smashing," as well as blatant violations of something called the Strange Sketch Act. Some may also wish to fast-forward through clunkers such as Prices on the Planet Algon or the rather obvious game-show sketch Prejudice to reach beloved sketches such as The Cheese Shop, a fermented curd variation on the famed Parrot Sketch, in which John Cleese is unable to get any "cheesy comestibles" from woefully understocked proprietor Michael Palin; the extended epic Cycling Tour, perhaps Palin's finest half-hour; the increasingly surreal Tudor Jobs Agency, in which an intrepid smut confiscator (Palin again) finds himself seemingly transported back to Elizabethan times, where he turns "the tide of Spanish porn"; Cleese's lupin-stealing highwayman Dennis Moore; the Oscar Wilde Sketch, in which Wilde (Graham Chapman), Whistler (Cleese), and Shaw (Palin) match wits in an escalatingly profane game of verbal oneupsmanship ("Your Highness is like a stream of bat's piss....") and the self-explanatory Dirty Vicar Sketch. --Donald Liebenson

Monty Python's Flying Circus - Set 6 (Epi. 33-39) (vhs):

Amazon.com video review: Six more opportunities to "Spot the Looney." This boxed set contains the final six episodes from the third and last full season of Monty Python's Flying Circus. More discriminating Monty Python fans are directed to episodes from seasons 1 and 2, also available on VHS and DVD. But completists can fast-forward or click through clunkers such as Prices on the Planet Algon or the rather obvious game-show sketch Prejudice to such beloved sketches from the Python pantheon as The Cheese Shop, a fermented curd variation on the famed Parrot Sketch, in which John Cleese is unable to get any "cheesy comestibles" from woefully understocked proprietor Michael Palin; the extended epic Cycling Tour, perhaps Palin's finest half-hour; the increasingly surreal Tudor Jobs Agency, in which an intrepid smut confiscator (Palin again) finds himself seemingly transported back to Elizabethan times, where he turns "the tide of Spanish porn"; Cleese's lupin-stealing highwayman Dennis Moore; the Oscar Wilde Sketch, in which Wilde (Graham Chapman), Whistler (Cleese), and Shaw (Palin) match wits in an escalatingly profane game of verbal oneupsmanship ("Your Highness is like a stream of bat's piss....") and the self-explanatory Dirty Vicar Sketch. --Donald Liebenson

Monty Python's Flying Circus, Set 1, Eps. 1-6 (vhs):

Amazon.com Essentials: In 1969, five overeducated British comics and an American illustrator invaded the homes of unsuspecting BBC viewers with a brand of comedy that was, at the very least, odd. "Absurd," "bizarre," and "incomprehensible" are other descriptions that jump to mind. Nonetheless, this wacky sextet inaugurated an absurd tradition that continued through three and a half seasons of half-hour TV episodes, a series of live performances, a handful of movies, and a legacy of dead parrots and upper-class twits. Monty Python's Flying Circus, Set 1 features the first episodes foisted on a still-reeling public, introducing running gags ("And now for something completely different") and recurring characters (an armor-clad Terry Gilliam wielding a rubber chicken, Graham Chapman's pompous Colonel intruding on sketches he deems simply too silly, and of course Michael Palin's "It's a Man" wandered through the entire season). Among the sketch highlights in the first three shows are Nudge Nudge, the Funniest Joke in the World, How to Defend Yourself from a Man Attacking You with Fresh Fruit, Confuse a Cat, and The Dull Life of a City Stockbroker, all interspersed with various and sundry cut-out animation sequences by Terry Gilliam. These early episodes may lack the consistency and stream-of-consciousness flow of their later, more assured work, but they're packed with some of the most memorable moments of the group's brief but brilliant history. --Sean Axmaker

Monty Python's Flying Circus, Set 2, Eps. 7-13 (vhs):

Amazon.com Essentials: Michael Palin, haggard and exhausted under a scraggly beard and wild hair, crawls out of the ocean (or the forest or a side of a mountain) and croaks the now-infamous "It's...." Suddenly, the "Liberty Bell" march pounds over the cut-out animation of Terry Gilliam. It's another episode of Monty Python's Flying Circus. No comedy has inspired such a fanatical following before or since, and the 45 episodes turned out by the group in their all-too-brief three and a half seasons have become classics. This set presents the final seven episodes of their inaugural season, a time of trial and error for the group as they perfected the elusive free-association structure that would define the wacky comedy. Connecting such all-time classics as the Lumberjack Song, the Dead Parrot sketch, and the epic Science Fiction sketch (featuring the tennis mad Blancmanges from outer space) are the ubiquitous letters to the BBC, Terry Gilliam's whimsical and ridiculous animated inserts, and John Cleese announcing, "And now for something completely different" with all the authority of a BBC announcer who suddenly finds his news desk hijacked by mobsters. The Pythons hit their first-season stride in the middle episodes, in which brilliant sketches and strange and wonderful linking gags come together with an absurd logic, but if the final episodes of the series flag compared to their comic peak, their brand of comic madness infects every episode with moments of pure lunatic magic. --Sean Axmaker

Monty Python's Flying Circus, Season 1 (vhs):

Amazon.com Essentials: In 1969, five overeducated British comics and an American illustrator invaded the homes of unsuspecting BBC viewers with a brand of comedy that was, at the very least, odd. "Absurd," "bizarre," and "incomprehensible" are other descriptions that jump to mind. Nonetheless, this wacky sextet inaugurated an absurd tradition that continued through three-and-a-half seasons of half-hour TV episodes, a series of live performances, a handful of movies, and a legacy of dead parrots and upper-class twits. Monty Python's Flying Circus, Season 1 features the first series of episodes foisted on a still-reeling public, introducing running gags ("And now for something completely different") and recurring characters (an armor-clad Terry Gilliam wielding a rubber chicken, Graham Chapman's pompous Colonel intruding on sketches he deems simply too silly, and of course Michael Palin's "It's a Man" wandered through the entire season). Among the sketch highlights are Nudge Nudge, the Funniest Joke in the World, How to Defend Yourself from a Man Attacking You with Fresh Fruit, Confuse a Cat, and The Dull Life of a City Stockbroker, all interspersed with various and sundry cut-out-animation sequences by Terry Gilliam. Also here are the Lumberjack Song, the Dead Parrot sketch, and the epic Science Fiction sketch (featuring the tennis-mad Blancmanges from outer space), and John Cleese announcing, "And now for something completely different" with all the authority of a BBC announcer who suddenly finds his news desk hijacked by mobsters. Some of these early episodes may lack the consistency and stream-of-consciousness flow of their later, more assured work, but they're packed with some of the most memorable moments of the group's brief but brilliant history. The Pythons hit their first-season stride in the middle episodes, in which clever sketches and strange and wonderful linking gags come together in a wierd logic, but if the final episodes of the series flag compared to their comic peak, their brand of comic madness infects every episode with moments of pure lunatic magic. --Sean Axmaker

Monty Python's Flying Circus, Vol. 05 (vhs):

Amazon.com video review: Episode 9 of Monty Python's Flying Circus, "The Ant: An Introduction," features what may be the single most famous skit in Python's short but eventful history. Nervous barber Michael Palin dreams of a life among the tall pines of British Columbia and warbles, "I'm a lumberjack and I'm OK" with a chorus of Mounties, who become rather puzzled by the sudden turn in the lyrics ("I put on women's clothing and hang around in bars!"). This classic episode also features a man with a tape recorder up his nose, a mountaineer with double vision mounting an expedition up both peaks of Kilimanjaro, and a brief but memorable appearance of a full-fledged Gumby, who sings while banging himself on the head with bricks. The aptly named follow-up "Untitled" is disappointing by comparison. In the show's highlights, Terry Jones attempts to enter the record books by leaping across the English Channel and eating a cathedral while a chartered accountant tries to get a job as a lion tamer (but only the short, squat kind with a big nose that eats ants). In the most inspired bit, a trio of interviewers attempts to open up hiring procedures for libraries by hiring only animals. While it offers its share of bizarre moments and hilarious humor, this is one instance in which the ideas are simply funnier than the execution. --Sean Axmaker

Monty Python's Flying Circus, Vol. 06 (vhs):

Amazon.com video review: The last volume of the first season of Monty Python's Flying Circus packs the final three gag-filled episodes on one tape. Episode 11, "The Royal Philharmonic Orchestra Goes to the Bathroom," features an Agatha Christie detective parody in which reenactments of the murder lead to a heaping pile of dead detectives, the recurring Dying Pallbearers skit, a man who hypnotizes bricks, and Mrs. Rita Fairbanks and the Townswomen's Guild's reenactment of The Battle of Pearl Harbor. Episode 12, "The Naked Ant," is highlighted by one of their funniest sketches ever: The Upper Class Twit of the Year competition, Python's thumb in the nose at boorish yuppies. Other skits include a politician who falls through the earth's crust while making a party political speech, the rise of the Bocialist party leader Mr. Hilter (who, he insists, was never in Germany), and businessmen leaping out of office-building windows. The final episode of the season, "Intermission," features the first reference to the ever-popular Python cry "Albatross." Other bits include Cardinal Richelieu's dead-on impersonation of Petula Clark, a little boy confessing he'd like Raquel Welch dropped on top of him ("She's got a big bottom," adds his buddy), and a Special Crimes Squad that fights crime with voodoo, magic wands, and Ouija boards. Though these final episodes aren't as consistent or smooth as the midseason classics, they are full of inspired moments and infected with a brand of nonsensical comic absurdity that we've come to know and love. --Sean Axmaker

Monty Python's Flying Circus, Vol. 01 (vhs):

Amazon.com video review: In 1969, five overeducated British comics and an American illustrator ambushed the BBC with the strangest show in British history. How they got on the air is anyone's guess (rumors of blackmail were quickly hushed, though the Python's penchant for sheep gags... but enough of speculation), but their irreverent writing and ludicrous gags transformed the sketch comedy show into a stream-of-consciousness loony bin of absurdity, connected by the outrageous animations of Terry Gilliam. In these first episodes, you can see the sextet working out their technique, mixing music-hall slapstick with their zany brand of ridiculousness. Episode 1, "Whither Canada," features the Funniest Joke in the World (a.k.a. the Killer Joke, which is really nothing other than German gibberish, but don't tell anyone), as well as Famous Deaths Through History hosted by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (John Cleese in a silly wig), interviews with Arthur "Two Sheds" Jackson and celebrated film director Sir Edward "Don't call me Eddie Baby" Ross, and a strange fascination with pigs. Episode 2, the teasingly titled "Sex and Violence," features John Cleese and Michael Palin as a pair of French inventors trading mustaches while explaining the finer points of sheep aviation, a man with three buttocks, an investigative report into the mouse crisis, and a wrestling match (two of three falls) to determine the existence of God. --Sean Axmaker

Monty Python's Flying Circus, Vol. 03 (vhs):

Amazon.com video review: As Monty Python's Flying Circus got into the groove of absurdity on a weekly schedule, they began creating some of their most memorable characters. Gumby is one such figure, a screaming idiot in knickers and a handkerchief on his head. It seems so fitting that he would make his first appearance in "Man's Identity Crisis at the Latter Half of the Twentieth Century" (a.k.a. episode 5), albeit in a primitive form (if that's not an oxymoron). But no, that's not enough for the Pythons, who pack this episode with the extremely silly Confuse a Cat, the not-quite-as-silly Erotic Film highlights, and the slightly-more-silly John Cleese interviewing not-quite-so-silly Graham Chapman for a management training course with questions a public-school education never prepared him for. Episode 6, "It's the Arts," features the ever-popular Dull Life of a City Stockbroker, Graham Chapman as an insane (and very loud) American film producer, and a lovely assortment of treats from the Whizzo Chocolate Company (their specialty is Crunchy Frog, but I hear the Anthrax Ripple is also quite good). These episodes are light on favorite skits but exhibit a confidence in the free-association logic that became the hallmark of the show. --Sean Axmaker

Monty Python's Flying Circus, Vol. 04 (vhs):

Amazon.com video review: The first season of Monty Python's Flying Circus was a time of experimentation: how to transition from one skit to another, how to weave a gag through a show, and most importantly how to sustain the comic momentum of a sketch. In Episode 7, "You're No Fun Anymore," this last problem was solved by creating their longest sustained sketch to date. The seemingly modest Science Fiction sketch (as it's introduced by a smarmy Michael Palin in a tacky sport jacket) chronicles the dastardly plot of a race of sport-loving Blancmanges from the Andromeda Galaxy to turn all Brits into kilt-wearing, bagpipe-blowing Scotsmen! Also featured in the program are the Camel Spotting sketch, The Audit sketch, and lots of characters uttering the now-familiar line "You're no fun anymore." In what can only be a blatant but desperate ratings gambit, the Pythons named episode 8 "Full Frontal Nudity." OK, there isn't much nudity, but there is the classic Dead Parrot sketch ("Nah, it's only sleeping"), a marauding pack of vicious, motorcycle-riding Hell's Grannies, a society of gossipy hermits, and an extortionist offering protection to the British Army ("You wouldn't want any of those tanks to get broken, now, would you?"). The Monty Python troupe really hit their stride in these episodes, which feature some of their most inspired, hilarious, and just plain weird moments. --Sean Axmaker

Monty Python's Flying Circus: Set 3, Episodes 14-19 (dvd):

Amazon.com video review: What do you do for an encore after confounding the general public with something completely different? Simple: give them something more completely different, from a semaphore version of Wuthering Heights to the last meeting of the Society for Putting Things on Top of Other Things (you were expecting the Spanish Inquisition?). This two-volume set contains for the first time on DVD in chronological order the first six episodes from Monty Python's second season. No sophomore slump here. Episodes 14-19, which originally aired in 1970, contain the signature Python sketches The Ministry of Silly Walks and The Spanish Inquisition. Also in the Python pantheon are the documentary about The Piranha Brothers and their reign of violence and sarcasm, The Architect Sketch, and the scandalous game show Blackmail. While the sketches, filmed bits, and Terry Gilliam animations are enduringly silly, Monty Python's Flying Circus remains a loony marvel in the way it shattered television convention. In Episode 15, a clueless Graham Chapman character is recruited to be the straight man in a sketch, but is not given the punch line. In the same show, the dreaded, but tardy, Spanish Inquisition races to make its entrance before the closing credits run their course. All three volumes are indispensable for Python completists. --Donald Liebenson

Monty Python's Flying Circus, Disc 5 (dvd):

Amazon.com video review: A&E's release of the full Monty (Python, that is) continues on disc 5 with the first three episodes from the classic BBC series' second season. Episode 14 is typically silly stuff, but with the entrance of John Cleese as a ranking official in the Ministry of Silly Walks, it becomes one for the Python pantheon. This signature sketch is topped by Ethel the Frog's profile of the Piranha brothers, Doug and Dinsdale, whose reign of violence (such as nailing people's heads to the table) and sarcasm terrorized England. Bravo for Terry Jones as Inspector Harry "Snapper" Organs from Q Division, whose "bewildering series of disguises" includes an appearance as Sancho Panza from Man of La Mancha for which he earns a "right panning" from the Bath Chronicle. Episode 15 introduces another bit of classic Pythonia, The Spanish Inquisition, for whom soft cushions and a comfy chair are the ill-advised agents of torture. In addition to such loony diversions as a semaphore version of Wuthering Heights, this episode brilliantly subverts television convention for a sketch in which a clueless chap (Graham Chapman) is recruited to play the part of straight man, but is not given the punch line. Episode 16 takes off with a sketch in which aspiring pilot Terry Jones gets some very silly flying lessons from a wire-suspended Graham Chapman ("Up on the table, arms out, fingers together, knees bent... now flap your arms...."). A highlight of this episode is a profile of poet Ewan McTeagle (Jones again), the freeloading author of the epic verse "Can I Have 50 Pounds to Mend the Shed." Other amusing bits include Eric Idle as a psychiatrist milkman on his rounds, and Michael Palin as the increasingly unsettled host of It's the Mind, who is sure he has relived this episode devoted to déjà vu. --Donald Liebenson

Monty Python's Flying Circus, Disc 6 (dvd):

Amazon.com video review: Disc 6 of the Monty Python's Flying Circus series comprises three episodes from the second season. Beginning with one of Monty Python's best, episode 17, "The Buzz Aldrin Show," is a must-own for fans of the Gumbys. Those thick-headed, handkerchief-bedecked and suspender-clad characters introduce a trio of classic sketches, including The Architect Sketch, in which slaughterhouse-designer John Cleese unveils his design for a residential block of flats ("The tenants are carried along on the corridor on a conveyor belt in extreme comfort past murals depicting Mediterranean scenes toward the rotating knives...."). Jones, yet again, shines in a brilliant bit of Bondian nonsense, The Bishop. Episode 18 is also a knockout, with John Cleese as Ken Clear-Air System, a boxer with a "brain problem." (His opponent, Petulia Wilcox, who is "keen on knitting and likes Cliff Richard records," is portrayed by Connie Booth, the former Mrs. Cleese and coauthor of Fawlty Towers.) Other highlights include the last meeting of the Society for Putting Things on Top of Other Things. Eric Idle has a brief but memorable bit as a butcher who is alternately rude and polite to confused customer Michael Palin. Episode 19 is vintage Python, with characters that have entered the fan lexicon, including Graham Chapman's Raymond Luxury Yacht (it's pronounced "Throatwarbler Mangrove") and Terry Jones's Mr. Dibley, an unfortunate filmmaker who is the victim of "petty critical nibbling" over his films Midnight Cowboy, Rear Window, 2001: A Space Odyssey, and Finigan's Rainbow (starring the Man from the Off-Licence), which even Dibley admits is "10 seconds of solid boredom." Eric Idle appears as one of his signature characters, smarmy, self-absorbed talk show host Timmy Williams, whom desperate friend Terry Jones makes the mistake of seeking out for counsel. --Donald Liebenson

Monty Python's Flying Circus, Set 4, Eps. 20-26 (dvd):

Amazon.com video review: More "humorous vignettes and spoofs" from the second groundbreaking season of Monty Python's Flying Circus. This set contains episodes 20 through 26, available for the first time on DVD in chronological order. Included are signature sketches that were adapted for the Pythons' first film, And Now for Something Completely Different, such as How Not to Be Seen, Conrad Poohs and His Dancing Teeth, the camped-up military drill, and the alleged English-Hungarian phrasebook (the Hungarian phrase meaning "Can you direct me to the station?" is translated by the English phrase "Please fondle my bum"). Also on the menu are such tasty classics as Spam; the Lifeboat and Undertaker cannibalism sketches and spam; spam, spam, the Man Who Says Things in a Very Roundabout Way and spam; Spam, spam, the Hospital for Over-Acting and spam; spam, The Exploding Version of the Blue Danube and spam; The Death of Mary Queen of Scots and spam. "And, of course, there's sport." Not content with forgoing traditional punch lines, Monty Python further subverted television convention with these episodes. In Episode 23, for example, the credits don't appear until midway through. They further demonstrate why Entertainment Weekly ranked Monty Python No. 77 (only 77th?) among the top 100 entertainers of the last half of the 20th century. --Donald Liebenson

Monty Python's Flying Circus, Vol. 7 (dvd):

Amazon.com video review: And now the news for Monty Python fans: this volume contains episodes 20, 21, and 22 from the second groundbreaking season of Monty Python's Flying Circus. By this time, audiences expected something completely different from Monty Python, and the anarchic troupe delivers. Highlights include The Attila the Hun Show with John Cleese as the barbarian who literally wants his children to "get a head"; Basil and his gang of killer sheep; the news for parrots, gibbons, and wombats; an examination of the role of the village idiot in society; a wildlife excursion with two mosquito hunters ("You hate him, then you respect him, then you kill him"); and "the story of one man's search for vengeance in the raw and violent world of international archaeology." And, of course, there's sport. Hitting their creative stride, the Pythons further delighted in subverting television convention. One sketch is abandoned before it even starts. At one point, they offer a nice version of a nastily funny sketch featuring Terry Jones as Sniveling Little Rat-Face Git and John Cleese as his wife, Dreary, Fat, and Boring. Episode 22 contains Killer Cars and the military precision camping-it-up drill, which were adapted for Monty Python's first film, And Now for Something Completely Different. Others, such as Norman Singent Polevaulter, the man who contradicts everything ("No, I don't"), The Death of Mary Queen of Scots, and the penguin on the TV set turned up on Another Monty Python Record. --Donald Liebenson

Monty Python's Flying Circus, Disc 8 (dvd):

Amazon.com video review: Still loony after all these years. This volume contains episodes 23 through 26 from the second groundbreaking season of Monty Python's Flying Circus. For discriminating collectors and recent initiates, episode 23 may not show the legendary troupe to its best advantage. But even average Monty Python is funnier and more inventive than, say, a new episode of Saturday Night Live. It does include some cherished bits of Pythonia, including the animated Conrad Poohs and His Dancing Teeth and the Fish License sketch. But the foreign film parody and the epic Scott of the Antarctic are for aficionados only.

The final episodes of the second season, however, were fit for the Queen. These three episodes "give new meaning to the word 'vomit.'" No, wait: That's the ill-advised ad campaign devised by Eric Idle's S. Frog for Conquistador Coffee, a very silly sketch that begins this volume with a jolt of comedic caffeine. Among the "humorous vignettes and spoofs" that appear here include classic and cherished bits from the Python pantheon, including an ad for American Defense; the training film How Not to Be Seen; the alleged Hungarian-English phrasebook; Crackpot Religions, Ltd; World Forum, in which questions about Cup finals stump Marx, Lenin, Chairman Mao, and Che; the Hospital for Over-Acting; the exploding Blue Danube; and the immortal ode to Spam.

The season-ending royal episode, which concludes this DVD, is a particular favorite. John Cleese soberly informs viewers that Her Royal Majesty will tune in during the course of the show (she is presently watching The Virginian). One wonders how she would stomach the Lifeboat and Undertaker cannibalism sketches that inspire the outraged studio audience to rush the stage in mock revolt. --Donald Liebenson

The Complete Monty Python's Flying Circus Megaset (dvd):

Amazon.com Essentials: While more cautious fans may want to pick and choose among the previously released individual volumes of Monty Python for their collection, true Pythonites will want to own this definitive, 14-volume DVD-only boxed set that contains all 45 episodes (in chronological order) of Monty Python's Flying Circus. This "persistently silly" collection encompasses three-and-a-half seasons of dead parrots, cross-dressing lumberjacks, loonies, upper class twits, and spam, spam, spam, spam, spam, spam, spam, baked beans, spam, spam, and spam. Click past the occasional clunker and go directly to such signature sketches as the Ministry of Silly Walks, the Spanish Inquisition, the Fish-Slapping Dance, the Dead Parrot Sketch, the Lumberjack Song, the Cheese Shop, the Argument Clinic, and Nudge, Nudge. Taken as a whole, one marvels at how Graham Chapman, John Cleese, Eric Idle, Terry Jones, Michael Palin, and Terry Gilliam thoroughly subverted television convention with "something completely different," like sketches with no punch lines ("You're average TV viewer isn't going to understand this").

A warning to the uninitiated: there is much "material that some may find offensive, but which is really smashing." Violations of something called the "Strange Sketch Act" are the least of the troupe's offenses, as witness the Oscar Wilde Sketch, the Dirty Vicar Sketch, and the Most Awful Family in Britain Sketch, all of which achieve "the really gross awfulness" all Python fans are looking for. Say no more. --Donald Liebenson

Monty Python's Flying Circus, Disc 1 (dvd):

Amazon.com video review: In 1969, five overeducated British comics and an American illustrator ambushed the BBC with the strangest show in British history. How they got on the air is anyone's guess (rumors of blackmail were quickly hushed, though the Python's penchant for sheep gags... but enough of speculation), but their irreverent writing and ludicrous gags transformed the sketch comedy show into a stream-of-consciousness loony bin of absurdity, connected by the outrageous animations of Terry Gilliam. In these first episodes, you can see the sextet working out their technique, mixing music-hall slapstick with their zany brand of ridiculousness. Episode 1, "Whither Canada," features the Funniest Joke in the World (a.k.a. the Killer Joke, which is really nothing other than German gibberish, but don't tell anyone), as well as Famous Deaths Through History hosted by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (John Cleese in a silly wig), interviews with Arthur "Two Sheds" Jackson and celebrated film director Sir Edward "Don't call me Eddie Baby" Ross, and a strange fascination with pigs. Episode 2, the teasingly titled "Sex and Violence," features John Cleese and Michael Palin as a pair of French inventors trading mustaches while explaining the finer points of sheep aviation, a man with three buttocks, an investigative report into the mouse crisis, and a wrestling match (two of three falls) to determine the existence of God. Episode 3, "How to Recognize Different Types of Trees from Quite a Long Way Away" never did get past the Larch, but does feature the ever-popular Nudge Nudge, the not-quite-so-popular Restaurant Sketch, the rather baffling Dim of Scotland Yard (with a tuneful John Cleese dancing and singing about being a railroad engineer under a barrister's wig), and the altogether absurd Bicycle Repairman, making the world safe for bicyclists. --Sean Axmaker

Monty Python's Flying Circus, Disc 2 (dvd):

Amazon.com video review: Once upon a time, six unruly schoolboys found that the BBC was giving money to people with rather ridiculous ideas for shows. Thus was born Monty Python's Flying Circus, easily the most ridiculous show in the history of television. In episode 4, "Owl-Stretching Time," no owls are actually stretched or harmed in any way, but Terry Jones tries to undress on the beach ("It's a Man's Life Taking Off Your Clothes in Public"), Arthur Lemming of the BDA foils a dastardly plot ("It's a Man's Life in the British Dental Association"), and John Cleese barks instructions to a class learning to defend themselves against assailants armed with fresh fruit. The transitions and flow are still a little choppy and their writing not quite up to the levels of future seasons, but the essential mix of anarchy, inanity, and outrageousness is all there in classic sketches, running gags, and Python's ever-popular penchant for deflating figures of authority. As Monty Python got into the groove of absurdity on a weekly schedule, they began creating some of their most memorable characters. Gumby is one such figure, a screaming idiot in knickers and a handkerchief on his head. It seems so fitting that he would make his first appearance in "Man's Identity Crisis at the Latter Half of the Twentieth Century" (a.k.a. episode 5), albeit in a primitive form (if that's not an oxymoron). But no, that's not enough for the Pythons, who pack this episode with the extremely silly Confuse a Cat, the not-quite-as-silly Erotic Film highlights, and the slightly-more-silly John Cleese interviewing not-quite-so-silly Graham Chapman for a management training course with questions a public-school education never prepared him for. Episode 6, "It's the Arts," features the ever-popular Dull Life of a City Stockbroker, Graham Chapman as an insane (and very loud) American film producer, and a lovely assortment of treats from the Whizzo Chocolate Company (their specialty is Crunchy Frog, but I hear the Anthrax Ripple is also quite good). These episodes are light on favorite skits but exhibit a confidence in the free-association logic that became the hallmark of the show. --Sean Axmaker

Monty Python's Flying Circus, Disc 3 (dvd):

Amazon.com video review: The first season of Monty Python's Flying Circus was a time of experimentation: how to transition from one skit to another, how to weave a gag through a show, and most importantly how to sustain the comic momentum of a sketch. In Episode 7, "You're No Fun Anymore," this last problem was solved by creating their longest sustained sketch to date. The seemingly modest Science Fiction sketch (as it's introduced by a smarmy Michael Palin in a tacky sport jacket) chronicles the dastardly plot of a race of sport-loving Blancmanges from the Andromeda Galaxy to turn all Brits into kilt-wearing, bagpipe-blowing Scotsmen! Also featured in the program are the Camel Spotting sketch, The Audit sketch, and lots of characters uttering the now-familiar line "You're no fun anymore." In what can only be a blatant but desperate ratings gambit, the Pythons named episode 8 "Full Frontal Nudity." OK, there isn't much nudity, but there is the classic Dead Parrot sketch ("Nah, it's only sleeping"), a marauding pack of vicious, motorcycle-riding Hell's Grannies, a society of gossipy hermits, and an extortionist offering protection to the British Army ("You wouldn't want any of those tanks to get broken, now, would you?"). Episode 9, "The Ant: An Introduction," features what may be the single most famous skit in Python's short but eventful history. Nervous barber Michael Palin dreams of a life among the tall pines of British Columbia and warbles, "I'm a lumberjack and I'm OK" with a chorus of Mounties, who become rather puzzled by the sudden turn in the lyrics ("I put on women's clothing and hang around in bars!"). This classic episode also features a man with a tape recorder up his nose, a mountaineer with double vision mounting an expedition up both peaks of Kilimanjaro, and a brief but memorable appearance of a full-fledged Gumby, who sings while banging himself on the head with bricks. The Monty Python troupe really hit their stride in these episodes, which feature some of their most inspired, hilarious, and just plain weird moments. --Sean Axmaker

Monty Python's Flying Circus, Disc 4 (dvd):

Amazon.com video review: The last volume of the first season of Monty Python's Flying Circus packs the final four gag-filled episodes on one DVD. The aptly named "Untitled" is a disappointing episode in comparison to the others in this volume. In the show's highlights, Terry Jones attempts to enter the record books by leaping across the English Channel and eating a cathedral while a chartered accountant tries to get a job as a lion tamer (but only the short, squat kind with a big nose that eats ants). In the most inspired bit, a trio of interviewers attempts to open up hiring procedures for libraries by hiring only animals. While it offers its share of bizarre moments and hilarious humor, this is one instance in which the ideas are simply funnier than the execution. Episode 11, "The Royal Philharmonic Orchestra Goes to the Bathroom," features an Agatha Christie detective parody in which reenactments of the murder lead to a heaping pile of dead detectives, the recurring Dying Pallbearers skit, a man who hypnotizes bricks, and Mrs. Rita Fairbanks and the Townswomen's Guild's reenactment of The Battle of Pearl Harbor. Episode 12, "The Naked Ant," is highlighted by one of their funniest sketches ever: The Upper Class Twit of the Year competition, Python's thumb in the nose at boorish yuppies. Other skits include a politician who falls through the earth's crust while making a party political speech, the rise of the Bocialist party leader Mr. Hilter (who, he insists, was never in Germany), and businessmen leaping out of office-building windows. The final episode of the season, "Intermission," features the first reference to the ever-popular Python cry "Albatross." Other bits include Cardinal Richelieu's dead-on impersonation of Petula Clark, a little boy confessing he'd like Raquel Welch dropped on top of him ("She's got a big bottom," adds his buddy), and a Special Crimes Squad that fights crime with voodoo, magic wands, and Ouija boards. Though these final episodes aren't as consistent or smooth as the midseason classics, they are full of inspired moments and infected with a brand of nonsensical comic absurdity that we've come to know and love. --Sean Axmaker

Monty Python's Flying Circus - Set 7 (Epi. 40-45) (vhs):

Amazon.com video review: Don't expect the Spanish Inquisition in these six episodes from the fourth--and final--half-season of Monty Python's Flying Circus. By this time (1974), John Cleese had departed. His absence is keenly felt, but Graham Chapman, Eric Idle, Terry Jones, Michael Palin, and Terry Gilliam--with invaluable assist from Carol Cleveland, Douglas Adams (author of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy), and songwriter Neil Innes--pick up the slack with some of the most surreal material Python ever produced. Like the third season's Cycling Tour, several of these episodes, including The Golden Age of Ballooning, Michael Ellis (set mostly in a very silly department store), and Mr. Neutron, are extended, near-program-length sketches. But there are memorable bits throughout: some indecipherable RAF Banter ("Bally Jerry hanged his kite right in the how's-your-father"); a Hamlet tired of people wanting him to recite "To Be or Not to Be"; a parade of bogus psychiatrists; a doctor whose nurse keeps stabbing, shooting, or garroting his patients; and The Most Awful Family in Britain competition, which achieves "the really gross awfulness that we're looking for." These episodes do not loom large in the Python legend, except perhaps as the basis for a lawsuit the troupe filed in 1975 against ABC, which aired them during late night in severely tampered-with versions. While, literally speaking, no Monty Python collection is complete without this box set, initiates are bound to watch these episodes with a disappointed, "Well, what's all this then?" --Donald Liebenson

Monty Python's Flying Circus - Box Set 3 (vhs):

Amazon.com video review: What do you do for an encore after confounding the general public with something completely different? Simple: give them more of something completely different, from a semaphore version of Wuthering Heights to the last meeting of the Society for Putting Things on Top of Other Things (you were expecting the Spanish Inquisition?). This three-volume set contains for the first time on video in chronological order the first six episodes from Monty Python's second season. No sophomore slump here. Episodes 14 to 19, which originally aired in 1970, contain the signature Python sketches The Ministry of Silly Walks and The Spanish Inquisition. Also in the Python pantheon are the documentary about the Piranha brothers and their reign of violence and sarcasm, the Architect Sketch, and the scandalous game show Blackmail. While the sketches, filmed bits, and Terry Gilliam animations are enduringly silly, Monty Python's Flying Circus remains a loony marvel in the way it shattered television convention. In Episode 15, a clueless Graham Chapman character is recruited to be the straight man in a sketch, but is not given the punch line. In the same show, the dreaded, but tardy, Spanish Inquisition races to make its entrance before the closing credits run their course. All three volumes are indispensable for Python completists. --Donald Liebenson

Monty Python's Flying Circus - Box Set 4 (vhs):

Amazon.com video review: Containing more "humorous vignettes and spoofs" from the second groundbreaking season of Monty Python's Flying Circus, this boxed set contains episodes 20 through 26, available for the first time on video in chronological order. Included are signature sketches that were adapted for the Pythons' first film, And Now for Something Completely Different, such as How Not to Be Seen, Conrad Poohs and His Dancing Teeth, the camped-up military drill, and the alleged English-Hungarian phrasebook ("The Hungarian phrase meaning 'Can you direct me to the station?' is translated by the English phrase 'Please fondle my bum'"). Also on the menu are such tasty classics as Spam; the Lifeboat and Undertaker cannibalism sketches and spam; spam, spam, The Man Who Says Things in a Very Roundabout Way and spam; Spam, spam, The Hospital for Over-Acting and spam; spam, The Exploding Version of the Blue Danube, and spam; The Death of Mary Queen of Scots and spam. "And, of course, there's sport." Not content with foregoing traditional punch lines, Monty Python further subverted television convention with these episodes. In episode 23, for example, the credits don't appear until midway through. They further demonstrate why Entertainment Weekly ranked Monty Python No. 77 (only 77th?) among the top 100 entertainers of the last half of the 20th century. --Donald Liebenson

Monty Python's Flying Circus, Vol. 10 (vhs):

Amazon.com video review: And now the news for Monty Python fans: this volume contains episodes 20 and 21 from the second groundbreaking season of Monty Python's Flying Circus. By this time, audiences expected something completely different from Monty Python, and the anarchic troupe delivers. Highlights include "The Attila the Hun Show" with John Cleese as the barbarian who literally wants his children to "get a head"; Basil and his gang of killer sheep; the news for parrots, gibbons, and wombats; an examination of the role of the village idiot in society; a wildlife excursion with two mosquito hunters ("You hate him, then you respect him, then you kill him"); and "the story of one man's search for vengeance in the raw and violent world of international archaeology." And, of course, there's sport. Hitting their creative stride, the Pythons further delighted in subverting television convention. One sketch is abandoned before it even starts. At one point, they offer a nice version of a nastily funny sketch featuring Terry Jones as Sniveling Little Rat-Face Git and John Cleese as his wife, Dreary, Fat, and Boring. --Donald Liebenson

Monty Python's Flying Circus, Vol. 11 (vhs):

Amazon.com video review: Still loony after all these years. This volume contains episodes 22 and 23 from the second groundbreaking season of Monty Python's Flying Circus. For discriminating collectors and recent initiates, these two uneven episodes may not show the legendary troupe to its best advantage, but even average Monty Python is funnier and more inventive than, say, a new episode of Saturday Night Live.

Episode 22 is best. Several of the bits, including Killer Cars and the military precision camping-it-up drill, were adapted for Monty Python's first film, And Now for Something Completely Different. Others, such as Norman Singent Polevaulter, the man who contradicts everything ("No, I don't"), The Death of Mary Queen of Scots, and the penguin on the TV set turned up on Another Monty Python Record. Other highlights are the return of Graham Chapman's Raymond Luxury Yacht ("It's pronounced Throatwarbler Mangrove"), as well as a return engagement of the Batley Townswomen's Guild, who top their first-season reenactment of the battle of Pearl Harbor with a reenactment of the first heart transplant.

Episode 23 does include some cherished bits of Pythonia, including the animated Conrad Poohs and His Dancing Teeth and the Fish License sketches. But the foreign film parody and the epic Scott of the Antarctic are for aficionados only. --Donald Liebenson

Monty Python's Flying Circus 12 (vhs):

Amazon.com video review: Monty Python ended its second groundbreaking season with episodes fit for the Queen. The three episodes contained on this volume "give new meaning to the word 'vomit.'" No, wait: That's the ill-advised ad campaign devised by Eric Idle's S. Frog for Conquistador Coffee, a very silly sketch that begins this volume with a jolt of comedic caffeine.

Among the "humorous vignettes and spoofs" that appear here include classic and cherished bits from the Python pantheon, including an ad for American Defense; the training film How Not to Be Seen; the alleged Hungarian-English phrasebook; Crackpot Religions, Ltd.; World Forum, in which questions about Cup finals stump Marx, Lenin, Chairman Mao, and Che; the Hospital for Over-Acting; the exploding Blue Danube and the immortal ode to Spam.

The season-ending royal episode, which concludes this video, is a particular favorite. John Cleese soberly informs viewers that Her Royal Majesty will tune in during the course of the show (she is presently watching The Virginian). One wonders how she would stomach the Lifeboat and Undertaker cannibalism sketches that inspire the outraged studio audience to rush the stage in mock revolt. --Donald Liebenson

Monty Python's Flying Circus - Set 5 (Epi. 27-32) (vhs):

Amazon.com video review: This set contains six "persistently silly" episodes from Monty Python's third and final full season (the ones introduced by Terry Jones's naked keyboardist). The quality of the sketches is not as consistent as it was in the first two seasons, but no Monty Python collection is complete without such series benchmarks as Njorl's Saga, an exciting Icelandic tale appropriated by the North Malden Icelandic Society; a courtroom burlesque featuring Eric Idle as a very apologetic mass murderer; the Argument Clinic sketch; Gumby brain surgery; and the Fish-Slapping Dance, which Michael Palin is on record as saying is his personal favorite bit of Python nonsense. A warning to more sensitive viewers: There is "material that some may find offensive, but which is really smashing," as well as blatant violations of something called the "Strange Sketch Act." Chief among these is the one in which Terry Jones appears as a pitiable man whose every utterance reduces listeners to hysterical fits of laughter; the ill-fated expedition to Lake Pahoe (located at 22A Runcorn Avenue); and an in-person documentary about the sex life of the mollusk, from the scallop ("second in depravity only to the common clam") to the whelk ("gay boy of the gastropods"). Episode 30 has the distinction of featuring two of the most hilariously annoying characters Monty Python ever perpetrated on the public: John Cleese as Miss Anne Elk, who has a theory on brontosauruses, and Idle as the extremely loquacious Mr. Smoke-Too-Much. --Donald Liebenson