Monty Python sprang into public consciousness in the 1970s as an anarchistic, nasty, rude, awfully British comedy series for English TV. It had its precedents in British humor, in particular the radio’s Goon Show, and the theatrical Beyond the Fringe (also created by ex-Oxbridge students), but it pushed its disrespect far beyond the bounds of what was considered acceptable by the powers that were. They lampooned the upper class, the middle class, and the working class with equal relish. They took their show abroad and made an impressive impact, especially in the US, despite the different contexts of the humor. They were helped by American graphic artist Terry Gilliam, who seemed to have absorbed the animations of The Yellow Submarine.
They also made films, among them The Meaning of Life; The Holy Grail; and The Life of Brian, which helped cement their reputation internationally.
How could this British troupe’s humor translate itself into other cultures, in particular to Israeli Hebrew? It certainly was a challenge, but it was a gauntlet that was picked up by Zohar Sharon and Roy Oppenheim and their Revolution Orchestra.
Adapting Monty Python humor to Israeli Hebrew
“This orchestra began some 20 years ago,” Sharon told The Jerusalem Report. “It was composed of students from the Academy of Music in Jerusalem. Roy was studying conducting, and I was studying composition. We established this orchestra, which was also going to play rock music. We didn’t think that as a project it would be more than a one-off phenomenon. But after a number of one-off projects, we suddenly became an established orchestra that was able to raise funds. It became a full-time job in which we had funds to pay ourselves and others.”
Though both he and Oppenheim supported themselves by teaching (political science and philosophy, respectively), their main activity was to develop the orchestra. It was called “Revolutionary” because as Sharon observed, “Generally speaking, orchestras are like a museum, playing music of the last 300 or 400 years. We don’t have a repertoire but rather original compositions that we create for our orchestra, often with choreographers. It’s music that goes together with dance, animation, video art, or all of them together. Our musicians use not only traditional instruments but also synthesizers, electronic instruments, accordions, mandolins, and so on. Our musicians are freelancers, who often play in regular ensembles on traditional instruments. Overall, we are the same group of musicians, varying in size according to need. For example, in this Monty Python production, we have an adult and a children’s choir, as well as a large orchestra.”
How to draft their Israeli musicians and choristers onto this indisputably British maelstrom of humor was going to be difficult. But somehow, the orchestra accompanied the filmed extracts of the Pythons with energy and aplomb, so that these two different cultures could live on the same stage without damaging each other. Radically, Sharon and Oppenheim presented their performance in English (with Hebrew subtitles) as a gesture to the often untranslatable text of the original. The film extracts were placed on a large screen behind the live orchestra and choirs synchronistically, which allowed for both to show their diverse talents.
The audience at the premiere at the Tel Aviv Performing Arts Center obviously enjoyed the evening, applauding furiously at this unusual combination of original music and visual and satirical gags coming off the proscenium. Certain scenes such as that from The Life of Brian, where the apparent Messiah tells his enthusiastic followers that he is not the Messiah and that they are all individuals with minds of their own, should have struck a deep chord with Israelis, who are daily bombarded by politicians who issue messianic claims for some of their actions, and moreover try to persuade their listeners to think like them.
Another gag that spoke to an Israeli audience was the Ministry of Silly Walks, which summarized the silliness of much of bureaucratic rules and regulations throughout the world. Another sketch had an interview with someone who was asked to pay an exorbitant fee in order to have an argument, a dead cinch for an argumentative people, which we are in spades.
All these and other samples of Python humor were accompanied by choral and orchestral music, some of which placed us in a cathedral-like space so beloved of traditional British life. The Israeli subtitle for the evening, “The Passion of Monty Python,” recalled the quasi-religious temper of the show, blending and contrasting the highs and lows of British culture, tackling serious existential questions (the meaning of life or why are we here?) with nonsensical humor, absurdity, and imagery.
How far this humor will translate itself abroad is difficult to ascertain because, as Sharon explained, “Many people of my age, 45, will still remember Monty Python with affection, even though they’re not the exact same generation. But the generation later will not know Python, and they might find it strange. Then there is an audience older than mine, but Python won’t talk to them because it was never part of their culture. So we don’t really know how many audiences we can attract. I do know that there is an audience for the Revolution Orchestra. Even if it’s for Monty Python, they’ll like it because of the orchestra. As a musical, too, it’s funny, so they’ll enjoy it.”
Certainly the audience at the premiere enjoyed themselves as witnessed by the hearty way they sang along with everyone on stage for Monty Python’s most anarchistic, tongue-in-cheek song, “Always Look on the Bright Side of Life,” which closed the show. A fitting testament to the Pythonesque period we are all going through.■