Great Films You Need To See – The Rutles: All You Need Is Cash (1978)

This is my latest contribution to The Big Picture, the internationally recognised website that shows film in a wider context. The Big Picture is running a series of features and reviews with the theme of ‘satire’. This piece is part of the site’s Lost Classics section (featuring in my list of Great Films You Need To See), in this case ex-Python Eric Idle’s music mockumentary The Rutles: All You Need Is Cash.

Hardly ones to take themselves too seriously, the Fab Four nevertheless provided the perfect foils for the grandfather of music mockumentaries.

While Spinal Tap took the formula to unparalleled heights, The Rutles set the ball rolling and remains an amusingly ramshackle spoof

While Spinal Tap took the formula to unparalleled heights, The Rutles set the ball rolling and remains an amusingly ramshackle spoof

Before This Is Spinal Tap (1984) there was The Rutles: All You Need Is Cash (1978), a Beatles parody given form partly thanks to its lead guitarist George Harrison.

Originally conceived as a throwaway sketch on Eric Idle’s post-Python BBC comedy series Rutland Weekend Television (1975-76), the skit took on a life of its own when it was shown on an episode of the long-running gag show Saturday Night Live that Idle was hosting.

Eric Idle's presenter in deep water in The Rutles

Eric Idle’s presenter in deep water in The Rutles

With Harrison’s encouragement, Idle’s partner-in-crime on Rutland Weekend Television Neil Innes knuckled down to turn what was an affectionate parody of A Hard Day’s Night into an alternative history of the world’s most successful and beloved band that spawned a whole new cinematic sub-genre.

Written by Idle and Innes, The Rutles charts the story of the Prefab Four – Dirk McQuickly (Idle), Ron Nasty (Innes), Stig O’Hara (Ricky Fataar) and Barry Wom (John Halsey) – from their humble Rutland roots to becoming “bigger than Rod [Stewart]” and creating “a musical legend that will last a lunchtime”.

The Rutles' take on I Am The Walrus, Piggy In The Middle

The Rutles’ take on I Am The Walrus, Piggy In The Middle

Modelled on the traditional to-camera documentary presenter style (Idle again), the film’s less-than-serious approach is apparent from the get go, with the former Python’s walk and talk becoming a sprint and gasp as the vehicle he’s following decides to hit the gas.

The presenter follows in the tight-trousered band’s footsteps from Der Rat Keller in Hamburg to the Ed Sullivan Show, Che Stadium (“named after the Cuban guerilla leader Che Stadium”), their spiritual quest to Bognor to meet Surrey mystic Arthur Sultan and Ron’s sit in the shower for peace with his soul mate Chastity (played by Gwen Taylor in a Nazi outfit in a hilariously near-the-knuckle mickey take of Yoko Ono).

Ron Nasty (Neil Innes) and partner Chastity (Gwen Taylor), aka Yoko Ono in The Rutles

Ron Nasty (Neil Innes) and partner Chastity (Gwen Taylor), aka Yoko Ono in The Rutles

The Beatles’ musical evolution is playfully parodied (Doubleback Alley is a take on Penny Lane; I Am The Walrus becomes the equally nonsensical Piggy In The Middle, among many others), while the band’s foray into the world of movies is also lampooned, with Ouch! a send-up of Help!; Yellow Submarine Sandwich (complete with surreal animation) and The Tragical History Tour, in which the Prefab Four play Oxford history professors going on a hitchhiking tour of tea shops in the Rutland area.

The SNL connection led to cameos from Bill Murray, Dan Aykroyd, Gilda Radner and John Belushi, while Michael Palin appears in one the film’s most amusing scenes playing opposite Harrison’s silver-haired interviewer as Rutle Corps’ headquarters is plundered.

Ex-Beatle George Harrison interviews Rutle Corp press agent Eric Manchester (Michael Palin) in The Rutles

Ex-Beatle George Harrison interviews Rutle Corp press agent Eric Manchester (Michael Palin) in The Rutles

Roped in to give the film some extra fizz by Harrison, a game Mick Jagger and Paul Simon deliver old Rutles tales with admirable brio, probably because most of the stories they were telling were actually true and involved the Fab, rather than the Prefab, Four.

The Rutles adheres to the most important rule of mockumentaries, in that everyone plays it straight despite the silliness going on around them. It also helps that Innes’ songs are catchy in their own right and different enough from the originals so as not to sound like a carbon copy.

The Rutles go all showbiz

The Rutles go all showbiz

It’s a testament to the film’s legacy that not only did it influence Rob Reiner and Christopher Guest when approaching This Is Spinal Tap, but also remains both a cult favourite among as many Beatles fans as those who still follow The Rutles on their sporadic live tours.

While Spinal Tap took the formula to unparalleled heights, The Rutles set the ball rolling and remains an amusingly ramshackle spoof.

In Retrospect – Life Of Brian (1979)

This review forms part of the IMDB Top 250 Films project on the excellent Head in a Vice site. If you haven’t already, make sure to check out the site, it really is very good.

Every once in a while a film comes along that generates a more fervent reaction among those who haven’t seen it compared to those who have.

Life of Brian

Life of Brian

David Cronenberg’s Crash was hugely controversial on its 1996 release, leading to some councils banning it from being shown, while the furore dredged up by the slew of so-called ‘video nasties’ led to stricter censorship laws being adopted in the UK.

A similar outcry greeted the release of Monty Python’s Life of Brian in 1979. Branded ‘satanic’ and ‘blasphemous’ in the United States, almost exclusively by those who had only heard what the film was about through Chinese whispers, the film generated an equally vitriolic reaction in the British media, among certain religious groups and rent-a-quote social campaigners such as Mary Whitehouse.

"Squatters!" Members of the People's Front of Judea put the world to rights in Life of Brian

“Squatters!” Members of the People’s Front of Judea put the world to rights in Life of Brian

Most (in)famously, Python’s own John Cleese and Michael Palin staunchly defended the film on the BBC against the juvenile and contrary jibes peddled by Christian broadcaster Malcolm Muggeridge and the flamboyant Bishop of Southwark, Mervyn Stockwood.

The simple fact is that, almost 35 years on from its original release, Life of Brian remains the most insightful and satirical film ever made about religious dogma, as well as one of the funniest movies in cinema history.

As the title suggests, the film follows the life of Brian Cohen, a simple Jewish man who happens to be born in the stable next to Jesus Christ. Brian falls in love, joins the People’s Front of Judea, is temporarily picked up by an alien spaceship and is mistaken for the messiah on his way to a very musical end.

Brian at the 'men' only stoning in Life of Brian

Brian at the ‘men’ only stoning in Life of Brian

Upon the release of the comedy troupe’s previous feature Monty Python and the Holy Grail in 1975, a journalist reportedly asked Eric Idle what their next film would be, to which Idle replied “Jesus Christ – Lust For Glory”. The Pythons ultimately decided not to cheapen the image of God’s only child (Hollywood epics had been doing that for decades); instead they took the far cleverer approach of using their singularly left field style to subvert many of the clichés we have of that time and point the finger at those who practice religious intolerance.

Right from the off it is made patently clear this is not a film about Christ. The first scene sees the Three Wise Men enter the manger where Brian has just been born, believing him to be the messiah, only to realise a few moments later they’ve gone to the wrong stable. The next scene picks up in AD33 with Jesus giving the Sermon on the Mount, only to pan to the back of the crowd where someone shouts “speak up!”, while a group behind bicker among themselves over what they think they’re hearing (“I think he said blessed are the cheese makers”) and call each other names.

Brian's unwanted followers try to find meaning in the smallest things in Life of Brian

Brian’s unwanted followers try to find meaning in the smallest things in Life of Brian

This misinterpretation of religion – and the dangers that can ensue – is central to Life of Brian, none more so than in the hilarious scene when Brian unwittingly creates a movement and attracts a legion of followers who attach their own nonsensical symbolism to everything he does or says. A lost sandal is interpreted as a sign that all must cast off their shoes, while a blind man declares he has been given back his sight … shortly before plunging head first into a hole.

Indeed, when an exasperated Brian shouts “I’m not the messiah!”, one follower replies in all seriousness: “I say you are Lord, and I should know I’ve followed a few.”

Pontius Pilate (Michael Palin) and right-hand-man Biggus Dickus (Graham Chapman) in Life of Brian

Pontius Pilate (Michael Palin) and right-hand-man Biggus Dickus (Graham Chapman) in Life of Brian

This inspired deconstruction of the delusionary influence of religious dogma is soon followed by an equally brilliant scene when Brian opens his window to be met by hundreds of his ‘followers’:

Brian: “You don’t need to follow me. You don’t need to follow anybody. You’ve got to think for yourselves. You’re all individuals.”
Crowd: “Yes! We’re all individuals.”
Brian: “You’re all different.”
Crowd (except one): “Yes! We are all different.”
One crowd member: “I’m not.”

Brain and chums try to look on the bright side of life in Life of Brian

Brain and chums try to look on the bright side of life in Life of Brian

The Pythons also take aim at the talking shop politics of old-school socialists/communists/trade unionists who like the sound of their own voice too much to do anything constructive, encapsulated in the People’s Front of Judea, who brand fellow Roman-haters the Judean People’s Front and the Judean Popular People’s Front “splitters” and call for a meeting instead of action following Brian’s arrest.

The swipes don’t stop there. Public schools and the British gentrified classes both get sent-up, while the appearance of the alien spacecraft could be seen as the only direct example of religion-bating. As their TV show so often proved, the Pythons aren’t below the odd spot of low-brow humour either, be it Pontius Pilates’s ridiculously over-the-top lisp (“I shall welease Woger!”) or the character of Biggus Dickus.

In the end, Brian is encapsulated by his wildly overbearing mother as “not the messiah. He’s a very naughty boy!”. It’s a very silly line from an equally silly film that somehow manages to walk the tight rope between respect and out-and-out satire, and in doing so cements its position as one of the very greatest screen comedies.