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The Holy Grail of Cheap Laughs
By Kevin - 12.13.04
Widely considered a masterpiece of low-budget silliness, Monty Python and the Holy Grail remains one of the most intelligent and popular films in the comedy canon. The film defies convention, tweaking many filmic and comedic conventions. At times, the Pythons may seem as if they are cheating, but their nonconformity as a group is for valid reasons. The odd-ball device most commonly employed is a tenacious sense of self-reflexivity, which helps the film on two levels: it not only provides for moments of comedy, but also helps keep the film well within the constraints of its meager budget.
Self-reflexivity (places in which the film seems aware of its station as a film) is used toward many comedic ends. One of the major narrative centerpieces of the movie is the “Book of the Film,” which grazes over holes in the narrative. It acknowledges that the film will not go over the backgrounds of many of the characters, all while making visual and verbal jokes in the typical Python fashion. The “Book of the Film” returns at a later time in the film, and cues the start of “Scene 24,” described by the narrator as a “smashing scene with some lovely acting.” The film isn’t afraid to throw the audience a curve-ball in order to get a laugh. In the Castle Anthrax scene, a palace full of young, sexually rambunctious teenage girls, Dingo addresses the audience at one point, saying “Do you think this scene should have been cut?” She breaks the “fourth wall,” but top-notch comedy is achieved. Camelot is referred to as “only a model,” which breaks the suspension of disbelief that the film had achieved through beautiful location shooting, but gets a well-deserved laugh. Self-reflexivity is funny, especially coming from a group of comedians who are familiar with filmic conventions and are able to break them so well.
While self-reflexivity is used first as a means of conveying comedy, it also serves as an apparatus to keep the budget in check. One of the aspects of the television show that can be found in the film are Terry Gilliam’s paper cut-out animations. Aside from providing linking material between the scenes, they also act as filler: Gilliam did them all, which saves on labor and the costs associated with more locations shooting. The ending of the film is considered a let-down by some: rather than stage an elaborate fight, the police simply arrest Arthur and his hordes in connection with the murder of a historian. This is a brilliant example of using self-reflexivity to both comedic and budgetary ends. The historian is found earlier in the film, narrating the forging of the Knight of the Round Table, when he is murdered by a random knight. This sparks a film-spanning investigation in which the police, investigators and the historian’s wife (all of whom are anachronisms, and doubly serve as persons who were involved in the making of a film about the film) follow the trail of the knights until they eventually catch them in the last scene. Rather than allow the French and the English to duke it out in medieval combat, uniformed Police speed onto the battlefield with SWAT trucks, and proceed to arrest everyone present. The film ends on such a syncopated note that the audience hardly knows what to think, yet it remains one of the funniest endings of all time. A fitting ending to a silly film, with money saved on extras, costumes, weapons and dangerous stunts. By acknowledging itself as a film, Monty Python and the Holy Grail is able to present comedy is a spend-thrift manner.
More than just a silly film, Holy Grail is a silly film done smart: it reveals its status as a film, granting it ample ways to present funny, financially possible, and ultimately hilarious comedic moments.
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