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Monty Python's The Meaning of Life (1983)

A review by Damian Cannon.
Copyright © Movie Reviews UK 2000
The fourth film to rise from the ashes of Monty Python's Flying Circus, this instalment features a return to their original ways. Gone is the traditional idea of script and story, The Meaning of Life is quite simply a run of sketches linked by one common motif. As might be guessed this is "life", from conception to cremation, the whole nine yards. Given the scope of such a theme, the Monty Python crew has free rein to focus their fun-fair distorted vision upon human existence. As it happens, this makes the end result rather hit and miss, like an old racing car; when it runs the thrill is delightful, yet sadly most of your time is spent in the pits, preparing for those brief instants.

The Meaning of Life commences with promise though, kicking off via a short feature called The Crimson Permanent Assurance. This beginning, directed by Terry Gilliam, subverts the genre of pirate movies in a truly unexpected way. Gilliam's basis involves a revolt staged by those elderly gents who toil away in a London office block. Overthrowing their young masters, the wizened buccaneers hoist their anchor and set a path toward the high seas of finance. In time, unsuspecting financial districts fall prey to their unusual take-over methods, involving the firing of filing-cabinet cannons and hand-to-hand combat with paper spikes. It's a fine little piece, full of humour crossed with peculiar possibilities, more coherent than the picture that follows.

This, the actual film, is a very mixed bag of sketches, loosely aligned along the idea of life's stages. Spiffy title cards preface each scene, though the relation between text and joke is often tangential. As The Meaning of Life rolls along it bumps over a sing-along about condoms, one-liners from men at war and situations that seem ludicrously possible. Fundamentally though the movie can be boiled down to sex, swearing and death, none of which demonstrate an articulate sensibility. It feels as though the Monty Python team sat down, thought up a groovy title, then went their separate ways in order to dig up some amusingly skewed takes on human behaviour. If not, then why does the film feels so disjointed and lacking purpose?

Given the group's track record, it's fair to expect that The Meaning of Life might consist of more than bright moments scattered like stardust. Yet that's what's delivered. Eric Idle, perhaps the most consistent performer this time around, provides the fabulous "Galaxy Song" and the witty ditty "Penis Song". Lyrically of high merit, every other musical interlude shows the mark of dead horse abuse in comparison. The six usual suspects do come up with some smart retorts, especially those awarded to the Grim Reaper, but the success rate is surprisingly low. Even those off-the-wall interpretations, a Monty Python staple, suffer from comic fatigue. The Meaning of Life is just badly organised, under-imaginative and trading on a good reputation.

However, even at their worst, these comedians are undeniably unique; wilfully tasteless but never out of control. Terry Jones performs tolerably as director, guilty of letting jokes run past their best but mostly in control of the disparate material. Vulgar and abstract, The Meaning of Life is worth watching at least once just so you know what your friends are talking about when they mention Mr. Creosote. Unfortunately the flip side is that you're constantly reminded of The Beatles as they neared break-up; a once tight-knit creative unit that can no longer bear to work in harmony.

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