Spamalot
Spamalot, Her Majesty's Theatre, 219 Exhibition Street, Melbourne, November 20, 2007 to February 3, 2008; ph: 132 849 or www.hermajestystheatre.com.au
Spamalot, properly: Monty Python's Spamalot is not yet an easy sell in Australia, it would seem, despite the presence of Eric Idle, creator of Australia's latest Broadway hit. The former Python has been an almost permanent fixture on radio and TV over the past few weeks as he spruiks the show. Popping up with deceptively gleeful abandon and a handful of cracking anecdotes and one-liners, he is a godsend to producers and interviewers alike. Although he didn't do much breakfast TV, apparently, and that might have been a mistake. Several people who would adore Spamalot might occasionally watch breakfast TV.
The significance of this is that, despite his best efforts, the show is still idling (sorry) along at the box office when it should be doing boffo business. This is probably because it's going to take off any minute on ecstatic word-of-mouth from those who have seen it during its opening week, so don't delay.
Idle, as many of us have recently noticed, has a lot to say about most things and he said it succinctly and first in his seminal work, The Greedy Bastard Tour Diary (HarperCollins). In the day-by-day account of his tour of the US and Canada of the same name he wrote: "I am flying into Toronto because my promoters are also greedy bastards, and it is cheaper to have me flogging my show on TV and pimping my ass to the newspapers than buying expensive ads. In my experience there is nothing you can't do for promoters. It is only with the greatest reluctance that they allow you to spend a couple of hours onstage, away from the relentless interviews."
In Spamalot, the poor sod doesn't even get to do that because a cartload of extremely talented greedy bastard Australian actors have done him out of a job in bringing to life a whimsical, nonsensical, fantastical and still-funny-after-all-these-years stage version of the movie, Monty Python and the Holy Grail.
As befits great comedy and a great (comic) actor, Bille Brown is the profound hub around which two-plus hours of inspired silliness revolves. He takes very seriously his role of King Arthur and brings to it a bewildered yet hopeful demeanour which is a delight. When Arthur first appears, astride his trusty destrier whose flaring nostrils, high-stepping gait and arched neck signal that we are in the presence of a legendary monarch, it is perfect that this vision of pre-equine influenza horseflesh is invisible and wrought by two half coconut shells delicately wielded by Arthur's faithful squire, Patsy (Derek Metzger).
In these hi-tech times it's good to see the coconut reclaiming its place in theatre (it appeared in Ying Tong: a Walk with The Goons another inspired classic English comedy) and Derek Metzger not only makes a particularly fine horse, but also delivers a glorious performance as the permanently overlooked flunky, Patsy.
Spamalot abounds with good performances: the Finnish fish-slappers start the evening on a high note (as it were) and it only gets better. For Holy Grail fans, the story survives well enough to resurrect the Knights who say Ni, Fred - who is not Dead Yet, Tim the Enchanter, the Killer Rabbit and many insults hurled between Arthur's men and the beastly French taunters. (EU? Wot EU?)
Most cunningly, the Voice of God (John Cleese) commands Arthur and his knights to stage a Broadway musical and this opens the door to some great fun at the expense of musical theatre classics. West Side Story and Boy From Oz get a surprising look in on the Middle Ages while Lloyd Webber's mandatory tonsil-ripping ballad-with-the-big-finish gets a real going over in "The Song That Goes Like This" - which also features a bright new star: Lucinda Shaw as The Lady of the Lake.
Shaw's presence reminds that female roles are pretty light on in Python adventures - unless they're screeching harridans camped up by the blokes. Idle has acknowledged this by introducing the role of the sodden lass who gave Arthur the very big sword; and Shaw turns her into a showstopper.
Jason Langley is another performer who makes the audience roar with laughter and delight as the terminally craven Brave Sir Robin; Stephen Hall quick changes through a handful of roles including an, um, unusual reading of Sir Lancelot; Ben Lewis, David Whitney and Mark Conaghan also bring comic depth to the team as various knights and other hilarious unfortunates.
The ensemble of young hoofers and singers doesn't stop for a minute in the roles of various elements ofancient Britain and her enemies. Most strikingly, in a nod to Mel Brooks and New York showbiz itself, they take over the stage for a set-piece that rivals The Producers' "Springtime for Hitler" sequence. It's irreverent, inspired and the politically correct should probably avert their eyes for its duration.
The original set, lighting and costumes are a brilliantly conceived melange of simple pantomime flats and painted bits and pieces, to highest tech, animation and lighting that combine to bring to life the look and feel of Python - including the trademark Gilliam cartoons (God's feet and so on).
Mike Nichols, living legend of comedy directing, first brought Spamalot to life on Broadway three years ago. It won the Tony for best musical of 2005 and he reprises the job in Melbourne with little evidence of weariness or over-familiarity. It's a delicious confection of meringue-lightness and wit.
Melbourne's cafe and bar life - going on all around the theatre - adds to the sense of fun and celebration that sends you out of Spamalot with aching smile muscles and a sense of wellbeing that's rare and precious. (The theatre's own bar stays open after the show! Hello Morris Iemma - listen to the Lord Mayor and Member for Sydney why don't you!)
If daftness were a science, Eric Idle and Mike Nichols would have the Nobel Prize for this one.
