Spamalot Live @ the Schubert Theater
June 1st, 2005

Never been to a Broadway show so Spamalot was a real treat. I admit that my excitement was at least partially derived from the $393 price tag for my online purchase of two upper balcony nosebleeds – I was sittin’ amongst the hidden tangle of booms, spotlights, microphones and at least one eagle’s nest. It was the hottest show on Broadway and it carried quite a buzz. I suppose that I hoped against hope - like everyone else- that I’d get a glimpse of Eric Idle and them Monty Python dudes or at least capture some of that glorious irreverent paradoxical British whimsy that charmed the pants offa us stodgy Americans back in the early 70’s when Monty Python’s Flying Circus took PBS by storm. I remember my first exposure to the Pythons back in ’71 as an undergrad at Michigan State University, a bunch of us would gather around the TV smoke dope and drink a little wine, feelin’ our oats and takin’ tentative steps toward independence and liberation from the shackles of hometown mores’ and the self-imposed restrictions of our internal judge - damn the torpedoes and any semblance of executive functions. Peace, love, sex, and dope.But it wasn’t really that way, not at all. We were uptight and pressured by the expectations of others, relieving stress and fatigue with black bennies and white crosses, pullin’ all nighters and wishin’ we could be more open and free like them damn hippies. They seemed to be getting laid all the time and we couldn’t even buy a discount jack-in-the-pants hand job. So what do we do…yep we all grow our hair out. Still don’t get laid. Damn. Seemed like the only relief was rock ‘n roll and Monty Python. They went hand-in-hand as a means to poke fun at the university, the government, police and military, church/organized religion, professional sports, and television - systems of social control - that seemed to have a stranglehold on our destiny. We were all, or most of us were, on an inevitable journey to adult oblivion, starting with a 4 or 5 year schedule of boring and meaningless college curriculum and graduation to a period of poverty, indebtedness and living back hone with our parents followed by a boring and unfulfilling career as a bureaucrat, teacher, mid-level manager at Meijer, or – worse yet – a social worker. I didn’t know it at the time but my brief foray into mind expansion, experimentation and free thinking would in an all-to-soon series of moments fade into career and family. And years later when my wife Lisa and I had raised our children to glorious adulthood, we could breathe and take a look around and, in the moment, recall our youthful selves. And despite all of our lost or broken promises, we could smile and laugh at Eric Idle and the Spamalot oeuvre...and at ourselves.

The cultural markers of Python lore were all present and accounted for in this show, from the farting Frenchmen who flick us off to that daring Python animation. It was amazing to witness the inspired pythonesque imagination up close and personal - those flying catapulted cows and the incredibly large hands pointing at something or other. The Knights who say "NI" were there and so was Not Dead Fred and the killer rabbits. Even John Cleese was present as the voice of God - first time God made it to Broadway. No matter, 'cos that loony British humor took over - even the annoying over-the-top irreverence of point/counterpoint arguments has a nice "bite". Where DO coconuts come from and how can a sparrow export them from the tropics to England? Hmmm. Such perfect nonsense seems loosely related to the whole yet it serves quite nicely to scaffold the show's wacky perspective and contrived plot lines involving Sir Lancelot’s (along with the Knights of the Round Table) quest to find the Holy Grail. No actor stood out as a star who carried the show - with the possible exception of Sara Ramirez as Guinevere. She sang her ass off and was sexy and funny and made me feel all warm inside. But the star was really Monty Python or our evoked memories of Monty Python. It was the bits, those things we remembered from "The Flying Circus" , "Life With Brain" or the aforementioned Holy Grail, or even "Live at Drury Lane". So perhaps the star was actually the audience – for remembering with affection and love. Tim Curry was memorable ’cos he has that lucky face and he reminds us of goofin' with the Rocky Horror Show, dressing up and coming out. We can all remember his face even before we remember his name. David Hyde Pierce seemed underutilized but he did shine on his piano poundin’ song & dance bit where he advises that a successful Broadway show needs more Jews. This set off an entire section depicting the quest. Why was this so funny? Beats me. But I think it would have been just as funny with a gay Puerto Rican/Negro. I felt as if I was part of an inside joke – all them folks with the knitted kippahs laughed their asses off and stabbed their fisted hands into the air as a salute – that still seemed somewhat funny despite my not-knowing.

Up in the clouds (literally) of the second balcony, I had a great view of the heads of those who sat directly in front of me. I was content bob & weave and catch as catch can pieces of this less than masterful masterwork of Broadway effluvia. Spamalot is a great irreverent poke at ourselves and it’s also a ripoff. But I’m sure glad I had a chance to laugh along, even though it had nothing to do with spam – or did it?

Peace,
Bo White
6/01/05