I asked him why comedy got such short shrift in TV columns – and why Alan Coren should be so dismissive of Ripping Yarns after raving about Tomkinson. James put it down to jealousy.’We all want to be doing your job,’ he says.’We can write and talk, but we’re frustrated because we can’t perform.’ Interesting.
I take the plunge and ask Stephen Frears if he would be at all interested in directing a comedy special for NBC with me. To my intense enjoyment he says yes … and I think the idea appeals to him.
Monday, May 22nd
With Spike’s card facing me at my writing desk, and Stephen Frears’ interest in the NBC special, I start this week with a stirring sense of optimism. So much could go wrong – the NBC special is still not a firm offer – but so much could, if it goes right, be some of the most exciting work I’ve done.
Today, after checking out my body – Alexander class at 8.50 – and my teeth at 11.30 – I drive over to the BBC to hear the verdict on our Yarn for July. Fairly predictably, ‘Roger of the Raj’ (as it’s now known) is the one they’re keen on. John Howard Davies, now Head of Comedy, doesn’t like the ‘child-molester’ references, I hear.
Talk over the script with Jim F and the various points of rewriting to be done. It’s a big cast, and I find myself stuck with Roger … another juve lead!
Wednesday, May 24th
In to the BBC at 2.30 to help Jim audition young lads for the part of Roger as a young boy. One had a black eye, the other a sore throat and a magnificently irretractable Cockney accent, and only one was any good at all … Then more casting chat with Jim, mainly involving desultory turning of Spotlight pages. I want to aim high and suggest we try for someone like Ralph Richardson for the father. BBC Artists’ Bookings are amazingly unimaginative as usual, and say Ralph Richardson will cost £1,000. The booker said, ‘You know, he’s almost ga-ga.’Anyone who can command £1,000 for a half-hour can’t be entirely ga-ga.
Sir Michael Redgrave, another possible, is £200 cheaper than Sir Ralph, but Peter Lovell, the PA, said that when Sir Michael was doing a one-liner on Morecambe and Wise, he took eight takes to get it right. And there’s a suggestion that he’s ‘not awfully well’. I stall Jim into letting me make my own enquiries. Refuse to be put off by BBC Artists’ Bookings.
Back home, ring Tom Stoppard to check out Sir Ralph. Tom doesn’t know him, but will ring Michael Codron, who put on Sir Ralph’s last play, and test the water for me. So hopes are still high.
Thursday, May 25th
John Howard D is persisting in his objections to the words ‘child molester’ in the ‘Roger of the Raj’ script. Jim says I’ll have to go and see him tomorrow. Also every avenue of exploration into the Sir Ralph situation seems fraught with money and Jim sounds as if he would rather drop the whole approach. Shall have to try and rally the troops tomorrow.
Friday, May 26th
Hot again. Into the sizzling silly season for the newspapers. The Mirror is pulling every stop out – even the weather – to try and boost Callaghan and the government before the election (not yet announced, but everyone thinks it’s October). Callaghan is personally very popular at the moment and Thatcher is not. I think anyone with any information of substance must realise that Jim’s good news basket is a very small one and all the signs are that the present drop in inflation (now down to 7.8%) and unemployment figures cannot be maintained.
Still, I’m better disposed to letting the present Labour government run my country for me than any other group – apart, perhaps, from Pan’s People – and I feel better governed (in a moral, rather than material sense) than at any time for many years.
Over to the BBC. At least JHD doesn’t attempt the economic argument to convince me why ‘child molester’ should be omitted. He tries hoary old chestnuts like ‘What happens if a child is attacked that evening?’ He tries the power approach, ‘I really can’t let this sort of thing go out.’ I absorb everything cheerfully and can only plead that every line is part of the creation of a vital character and is used in innocent reflectiveness for the purposes of getting a laugh. Which it will get. JHD cannot pull experience on me either. We are almost the same age. So he capitulates with, I think, mock-crossness, and I think he’s not so bad after all. He’s just frighteningly competitive, that’s all.
Monday, May 29th
A thoroughly pleasant, though I suppose at times awkward, canal trip on Chris Orr’s converted ice-breaker’Scott’. The ‘voyage’ had been arranged by Robert, in order to get Chris and I talking about’Arthur’, his latest project, a story with lithograph illustrations. Chris needs up to £5,000 to get the project under way. The Arts Councll and the Fraser Gallery have been approached – unsuccessfully.
I’ve read the book over the last week and am very disappointed. I found it loose, undisciplined – in short a mess of good ideas, bad ideas, in about 40–60 proportion. Am I getting old? Why do I feel exasperation with this ‘experimental’ style? If only Chris would pare it down to essentials – but I fear that the very diffusion of style is what’s important to him.
Tuesday, June 6th
Ring Laurence Evans, Sir Ralph R’s agent one last time. A lady assures me that he has all the details and has been trying to get in touch with Sir Ralph. This game has gone on for well over a week, and I still haven’t even spoken to Laurence Evans.
I ring Lindsay Anderson. Lindsay is at his most charming and cheerful and, fortunately, helpful. He is interested to hear of my lack of success with Richardson’s agents. ‘They’re shits,’ he says, with feeling, ‘and I should know —they’re my agents as well.’ He himself will ring Sir Ralph (an old friend) and mention my interest.
A little breakthrough. Lindsay calls back. He’s spoken to Sir Ralph, who sounds to be available, and he has asked me to drop a script at Sir Ralph’s house in Regent’s Park.
Lindsay suggests that I give Sir Ralph a ring before dropping round – ‘His wife will probably answer, but if you can get through her you’re alright’ – so I’m relieved but momentarily shaken to hear the familiar voice of Sir Ralph himself at the other end of the line. Would he mind if I brought him a script … ? ‘No … no … by all means. I have my plaque up … “Actor available, no waiting …”’ the great man assures me genially.’I’ll read it … Put your phone number on the bottom and I’ll give you a ring.’
It’s not often one speaks to a Living Legend – there aren’t many left – and it takes me a while to come down from a slightly sweaty tremble of excitement. But in a cooler, more rational moment I remember what Lindsay had said – don’t be apologetic, if you’ve got a good script, an actor will jump at it.
So, armed with a good script, and William, who’s come along for the ride, I make my way to No. i Cumberland Terrace, the residence of Sir Ralph and Lady Richardson. It’s on the end of one of Nash’s impressive, classical terraces – full of ambassadors and burglar alarms. Lady Richardson answers the door and I hand her the script. Exchange of charming smiles and the door shuts.
Wednesday, June 7th
A crisp and efficient two-hour production meeting at the BBC. After we’ve been through the show and Jim is politely grumbling about the BBC, Sir Ralph phones and asks for me.
His voice has a chuckle in it. ‘Yes … Yes …’ says the Great Man. ‘He’s rather a nice old chap isn’t he … rather charming …’ He chuckles again. It’s as if he’s talking about himself, but I realise he’s communicating cautious approval, enjoyment even, of the character of Lord Bartlesham. I mutter something solidly flattering (to both myself and Sir Ralph) about the character working on two or three different levels and that’s why we need the best player we can get. He mutters and grunts and makes noises of distinct pleasure, but then says he’s off to watch the Derby and we’d better ring his agent, who will be expecting a call. ‘You see, I’d like to take my wife with me.’ He promises to read the script again tonight and asks who will be Lady B. With that, our goodbyes.
It’s not a great surprise when Jim rings a f
ew hours later to say that despite the BBC stretching all its resources (!!) Laurence Evans has turned down the offer, explaining that, ‘He likes a bit of luxury, you know.’
Thursday, June 8th
A patchy day of sun and cloud. Patchy in achievement too. John Le Mesurier evidently likes the ‘Roger of the Raj’ script so much that he’s very happy to do a small part (Runciman). This encourages me, because I know he will be brilliant.
More encouragingly, I find that ‘The Wreck of the Harvey Goldsmith’1 looks in good shape – an abundance of funny material (but an expensive show) and I start a new tale, ‘Dracula at St Dominic’s’.
TJ tells me Diana Quick can’t do Judith in the Life of Brian, as she is committed to the RSC in the autumn. We are seeing a girl called Sue Jones-Davis tomorrow morning.
Friday, June 9th
Regent’s Park bathed in sunshine as I drive down to Park Square West for the Python meeting. Terry J and John Goldstone are present. Eric didn’t think it was worth coming. John is out of the country, evidently playing cricket in Corfu! Gilliam is still in France.
So TJ, myself and a very much slimmed-down Dr Chapman, meet Sue Jones-Davis. A tiny, boyish little Welsh lady with an upturned nose. Dressed in jeans and shirt – no frills. She reads Judith in a delightful Welsh accent. She’s quite a tough and sparky little girl, and has a strong, open face, which should come across well in all the Judith v Brian close-ups. Not a versatile comedy lady like Gwen Taylor, but a good Judith we all think.
John Le Mesurier’s agent rings to say he wants his full Dad’s Army fee for playing the one-day cameo in ‘Roger’. Jim will sort this out, though he’s puzzled and rather cross about it.
Wednesday, June 14th
Have been reading extracts from Virginia Woolf’s A Writer’s Diary. How hard she worked at writing. What impossibly high standards she always seemed to set herself.
Sylvia Plath – another lady whose depth of perception and whose shining intelligence seemed to render her always more vulnerable than secure – expressed this in The Bell-Jar: ‘I feel like a race horse in a world without race tracks.’ In Christopher and His Kind, Isherwood expresses a less fraught attitude: ‘Christopher said to himself that only those who are capable of silliness can be called truly intelligent.’
I’m with Isherwood.
Friday, June 16th
Complete a reading of the Brian script this morning, then drive down to Park Square West.
Keith Moon is unanimously voted into the rep company. John Young, the Historian in Grail, is unanimously voted in as Matthias, the largest single non-Python role in the movie. We can’t agree yet on a Judith.
Eric’s two songs – ‘Otto’ and the ‘Look on the Bright Side’ crucifixion song —are rather coolly received before lunch.
My suggestion of Ken Colley as Jesus is accepted nem con – thus solving quite a long-term problem. And the title is to be Monty Python’s Life of Brian— not ‘Brian of Nazareth’ as GC and I liked, or ‘Monty Python’s Brian’, as TJ suggested.
Thursday, June 22nd
Down to Donovan at lunchtime to surrender my false teeth, which will be ‘reworked and reordered’ for me to collect them tomorrow. Toothless, out into chill London.
Drive to a reception at the National Book League (again), this time for contributors to The Writers’ Book of Recipes, which I had evidently replied to about fifteen months ago. At the cocktail party my letter is included in a hastily-assembled display case – right next to one from Jan Morris.
I sauntered over and was, hopefully rather discreetly, glancing over my letter of 16th March ‘77, when a soft, rather deep, voice charmingly insinuated on my private gloat. Looked up to find myself confronted by a large lady with rather dry and unkempt wispy grey hair, which sat unsatisfactorily on a bold, square head. Kind, warm eyes, a generous mouth. An interesting, but rather disturbing face – fine and strong in the features, but messy in detail.
This was Jan Morris, who, as James Morris, wrote one of the travel books which most affected me – in fact one of my favourite books of all – that on Venice.
Jan said how much she’d enjoyed ‘Across the Andes by Frog’ – especially remarking on the way development heaped on development. I in turn gave a quick rave about Venice – the book.
Had this comfortable, tweedy lady really climbed the Himalayas as a man and written for Rolling Stone as a woman? This encounter was the high point of the cocktail party for Recipes, which seemed ironic as I had no teeth in.
Saturday, June 24th
TG drops by for some more chit-chat. He’s more worried than ever about the words – the dialogue in his films, which he’s always had an inferiority complex about – and is thinking of trying to make his new film tell its own story – like his animations – and be less ‘written’. His dream sequence ideas sound great – especially the brick skyscrapers with no windows.
Wednesday, June 28th
Lome Michaels called from the Savoy mid-afternoon. He’d arrived from New York just before lunch. Now recovered, he was making arrangements to meet. I would have liked to talk privately, but there were various people who wanted to have dinner with him, so we agreed to meet up at the Savoy around nine.
To the Savoy, where I find Lome in a comfortable, but a little colourless suite with an impressive panoramic bay window view of Waterloo Bridge, the Thames, St Paul’s and the City.
He thinks that I should consider spending six to eight weeks in the US each year and bring family, etc. This is the difficult area in our plans. It’s one thing to do a special with freedom and money, but this freedom is going to be compromised in many little ways – and I fear the American exposure bit is one of them.
Thursday, June 29th
It’s raining heavily as I set off for the Arlecchino restaurant in Notting Hill to meet Terry Hughes and Lome Michaels for lunch. Lome hasn’t slept all night – but looks exactly as he always does and he talks rather more than usual, relishing a new audience. He drinks coffee, but little else.
Almost on cue, an American girl and her friend come across the restaurant and tell me how much they loved ‘Across the Andes by Frog’ – and with Terry there too. What timing.
About 3.30 we cram into my Mini and drive through the rain to the TV Centre. In Terry’s office Lome produces a tape of a Steve Martin Saturday Night show, which he’s putting in for an award. Terry H disappears, and some time later, when we’ve finally got the BBC machine to work (this takes four or five people, secretaries, window cleaners, etc), Terry emerges from Jimmy Gilbert’s office and, in an urgent whispered aside, tells us that Bruce Forsyth has just signed for ITV, and that Jimmy is in a state of utter confusion and trying to write a press release.
Eventually Lome and I leave. I can’t help finding it remarkable that, even with the Forsyth saga going on, the head of BBC Light Entertainment doesn’t have time even to shake hands with one of the US’s top LE producers – or top producers, period.
To the house Shelley Duvall has rented in Avenue Road, while she’s working on The Shining. It’s furnished like a luxury penthouse in a bad English ‘B’ movie, and I find myself feeling little envy for the sort of life which results in having to live for six months in such colourless, characterless transitory surroundings. Shelley says the ambassador for Ceylon lives next door, so she’s alright for tea.
Shelley I like more and more. She’s humorous, silly almost, direct and accessible and defiantly un-glamorous – and she loved ‘Escape From Stalag Luft 112B’ and my Saturday Night show!
Friday, June 30th
Drive to Shepperton for lunch with Graham Ford and Paul Olliver. The catering manager, whose guts I’m after at every board meeting, is most obsequious – offers me cod ‘fresh caught from Grimsby’ and whispers loudly how very much he enjoyed the Ripping Yarns.
Saturday, July 1st
A Python read-through at Anne’s. We begin by trying to do the quiz in the ‘Complete Monty Python’ fan book. The questions are incredib
ly hard, and the entire team scores only 60% – on our own material!
Read-through a little stilted to start with. Graham has a long list of suggestions and each scene is rather heavily post-mortemed. Then we suddenly find three hours have gone by and Terry J hurries us all through. The state of the script isn’t bad, but doubts are voiced about Judith’s role (by Terry G) and Brian’s. The usual arguments that they’re rather dull parts – and as soon as we start to work on the Brian/Judith relationship we lose the comedy.
Indecision still over the casting of Judith. Gwen is good, but I feel Judith needs to be tougher, stronger, more dangerous than Gwen could ever be. We need a stroppy feminist with a sense of humour to play the role.1
Tuesday, July 4th, The Bull Inn, Bethersden, Kent
‘Roger of the Raj’ shoot begins. Meet Richard Vernon and Joan Sanderson at breakfast as well as Jim and co.
Richard and Joan haven’t rehearsed together and it’s only when we’re in and sitting round the dining room table in this beautifully furnished Elizabethan manor house, with the sparks rigging the lights, that they have a chance to play the scene together. Joan tends to overplay, Richard to underplay, but they are both very willing listeners and extremely gentle, approachable folk.
Happy to be working again with this tight, efficient little unit and with the increasing feeling that the series now has acquired a much greater prestige than I thought (Joan Sanderson was telling me of its high reputation among ‘the profession’), I feel as easy, confident, optimistic and relaxed as I can ever remember on filming.
Friday, July 7th, Bethersden
The pattern of filming now well established. Up at a quarter to eight, down to breakfast (coffee and grapefruit juice only) at eight o’clock. Various ablutions and bodily functions, then a ten-minute drive through Kentish fields to High Halden and down the long avenue of trees that leads to Harbourne Hall.
Diaries 1969–1979 The Python Years Page 64