Review by New York Times Review
"SO MUCH HAS been written about Monty Python," notes Eric Idle, who as a charter member of that brilliant comedy troupe created memorable sketches like "Nudge Nudge," in which he played the world's most annoying pub patron, as well as the absurdly cheerful song that gives his book its name, which he sang at the conclusion of the mock biblical epic "Monty Python's Life of Brian" while being crucified. "There have been," he continues, "memoirs, diaries, books about the Pythons, books by the Pythons about the other Pythons articles about the books about the Pythons, countless interviews, autobiographies, documentaries . . . so many documentaries." He's not wrong. (He doesn't mention that one of those books was "The Pythons Autobiography," published in 2003, which included contributions from all the Pythons, including Idle himself.) The question is how much Idle has to say on the subject that hasn't already been said. The answer: enough. "Always Look on the Bright Side of Life" is probably more for the hard-core Python aficionado than the casual fan, who may be baffled by unexplained references like "Orson Welles was on the panel and he must have loved Mr. Creosote." But there is plenty here that all fans, casual and otherwise, will appreciate. I was particularly taken by Idle's recollection of how he came to write "Bright Side," and how he came to record his vocal in a hotel bedroom in Tunisia while under the influence of a powerful local beverage. And I was touched by the mixture of pride and surprise with which he discusses how that song, which "was supposed to be ironic," has taken on a life of its own as an anthem sung by British troops, British football fans and even mourners at British funerals, where Idle says it has replaced "My Way" as the most requested number. I would have liked more stories about the creative process behind Idle's Python work. I would have also liked more about the Rutles, the Beatles parody band he created in the late 1970s with the frequent Python collaborator Neil Innes. Idle calls "The Rutles: All You Need Is Cash," the hilarious fake documentary he wrote, co-directed and co-starred in (as the Paul to Innes's John), "probably the most fun I ever had filming." But for some reason - perhaps because it was Innes and not Idle who wrote the songs - this phase of his career gets relatively short shrift. And I would have liked a lot less about Idle's many, many, many famous friends. Of course, there's no reason he shouldn't write about his friends. "I didn't seek them out," he sensibly observes. "They found me. What am I supposed to say?" It's just that so much of what he has to say about them consists of little more than dropping their names. ("Marty Scorsese threw us a party"; "All of the Stones trooped in"; "Suddenly I was making Steve Martin and Robin Williams laugh"; "I have known Salman for some years.") Still, when he writes in depth about friends like George Harrison, who loved - and, in the case of "Life of Brian," helped bankroll - the Pythons, and whom Idle clearly loved back ("He was irresistible"), the payoffcan be powerful. "Always Look on the Bright Side of Life" has its share of weak jokes: "By an odd coincidence, I was born on my birthday." "Steve is a polymath, which is not a parrot good at algebra." After a few of those clunkers, I had visions of Graham Chapman materializing in his colonel's uniform to proclaim such wordplay unforgivably silly and urge Idle to move on. Happily, he always does. Some of the best moments here are the serious ones, like his heartbreaking account of Harrison's last days and his harrowing memories of the 12 years he spent in a boarding school he recalls as "a physically abusive, bullying, harsh environment for a kid." And, perhaps inevitably for a man in his mid-70s, Idle does a fair amount of reflecting. "I noticed we had become legends quite a while ago," he writes of the Pythons. "We used to be icons, and before that stars, and before that celebrities, and before that merely TV comedians, but the Reaper keeps on Reaping and you go up a notch each time until you finally end up as myths, which is when you know you're dead." IN ADDITION TO being the Python with the most high-profile performing career, John Cleese has for two decades had an academic one, as a professor at large and later a visiting professor at Cornell University. "Professor at Large: The Cornell Years," a hodgepodge of lectures and conversations, is less for the Python fan than for the Python completist. Naturally, Monty Python is among the topics Cleese addresses. But even the 2004 talk "What Is Religion? Musings on 'Life of Brian'" is about more than just that film; while using "Brian" as a starting point, Cleese offers smart and sometimes surprising observations about spirituality, organized religion, and the parts he says were leftout of the Bible. The sublime silliness of Monty Python has always had an intellectual underpinning; not many comedy troupes have sung about Heidegger and Descartes or joked about summarizing Proust. In "Professor at Large," Cleese brings the underpinning to the surface. While rarely silly, Professor Cleese is often funny, frequently perceptive and, unlike many professors, never dull.
Copyright (c) The New York Times Company [July 11, 2019]
Review by Publisher's Weekly Review
This collection of speeches and conversations with Monty Python alum Cleese (So, Anyway) is not unlike the man himself: hilarious, always clever, and a little off-kilter. The author, a Cornell professor-at-large between 1999 and 2007, shares speeches on business, screenwriting, religion, and other topics, and public conversations with friends like Princess Bride author William Goldman and scholars such as psychology professor Stephen Ceci. Cleese's attention is prone to wandering, which is anything but a criticism. The best selection, "Hare Brain, Tortoise Mind," nominally given as a speech on business in 1999, comes across instead as a potentially revelatory take on the creative process, in particular the need for "two modes of thinking," one "suitable for solving problems where we know what kind of answer we want," and the other for "problems where we may not know what kind of an answer we're looking for." Likewise, a sermon delivered in 2001 at Cornell's Sage Chapel, drawing deeply from Aldous Huxley, speaks as much to the ability to overcome "negative emotions and habitual indulgence in them" as to anything spiritual. There is no unified theory of Cleese presented, rather something more akin to snapshots of a mind at work-but what a mind it is. (Oct.) © Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.
(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
Review by Kirkus Book Review
In this probing collection of essays and lectures given during his tenure as Cornell University's "professor at large," Cleese (So, Anyway, 2014, etc.) reminds us that his intelligence and wit extend well beyond Monty Python and Fawlty Towers.The beloved British comic actor, writer, and director began his academic association with Cornell in 1999, when he was invited to serve as a visiting professor, holding forth on everything from The Life of Brian and the nature of religion to creativity, screenwriting, group dynamics, and physiognomy. He has continued guiding these scholarly workshops and classes flecked with humor for almost 20 years. This book assembles the best of them in a thoughtful, engaging wayat least to liberal thinkersthough the author sometimes succumbs to broad generalizations. Apart from his look at frameworks that fire creative energies, of particular note is his discussion of the dichotomy between the authoritarian impulse of organized religion and the liberating mysticism expressed by Buddhism. Cleese also offers trenchant (if familiar) commentary on political and cultural matters while relating much practical knowledge about film and TV, including the eventual demise of the Pythons. Although aspects of it are somewhat dated, movie buffs will savor a long, detailed, often eye-opening interview Cleese conducted in 2000 with respected screenwriter William Goldmanduring which Cleese also recalls his experiences writing and performing in A Fish Called Wanda. In "The Human Face," the author talks to developmental psychologist Stephen J. Ceci, and the two brilliantly explore the parameters of perception and recognition, with an illustrative aside on the "golden mean." Cleese, 78, reveals a sharp but humane sensibility as well as a wicked sense of humor when it comes to human frailty. What surprises is the depth of his understanding.As provocative as it is amusingan edifying journey through the mind of a major talent. Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
