Stream Online Monty Python and the Holy Grail Free on Its 50th Anniversary

This year, YouTube cel­e­brat­ed its twen­ti­eth anniver­sary, prompt­ing younger users to won­der what life could have been like before it. The fifti­eth anniver­sary of Mon­ty Python and the Holy Grail, which pre­miered in April of 1975, has inspired sim­i­lar reflec­tion among com­e­dy enthu­si­asts. It can be dif­fi­cult, at this point, to imag­ine one­self back in a cul­ture not yet dis­rupt­ed by Mon­ty Python’s rig­or­ous­ly absurd log­ic, scat­ter­shot satire, and delib­er­ate break­ing of nar­ra­tive and social con­ven­tion — a cul­ture, indeed, where that sort of thing could be feared too dan­ger­ous for tele­vi­sion and film.

It was their BBC sketch series Mon­ty Python’s Fly­ing Cir­cus that intro­duced this comedic sen­si­bil­i­ty first to Britain, and then to the world. Between that show’s third and fourth sea­sons, the Pythons — Gra­ham Chap­man, John Cleese, Eric Idle, Ter­ry Jones, Michael Palin, and Ter­ry Gilliam — took on the side project of cre­at­ing their own cin­e­mat­ic re-inter­pre­ta­tion of Arthuri­an leg­end.

With a mod­est bud­get fur­nished by Led Zep­pelin, Pink Floyd, Jethro Tul­l’s Ian Ander­son, and oth­er investors con­nect­ed to the music world, they plunged them­selves into a grimy, unglam­orous vision of the Mid­dle Ages, punc­tu­at­ed by inex­plic­a­ble anachro­nism and sat­u­rat­ed with an icon­o­clas­tic dis­re­gard for received wis­dom and trumped-up glo­ry.

There the Pythons told a sto­ry that, while per­haps lack­ing in nar­ra­tive struc­ture — to say noth­ing of his­tor­i­cal real­ism — more than com­pen­sates in sheer com­ic momen­tum. By all accounts, it holds up half a cen­tu­ry on, even for those view­ers who’ve already seen it so many times as to have invol­un­tar­i­ly com­mit­ted every joke to mem­o­ry. In cel­e­bra­tion of its anniver­sary, the film has become avail­able to stream free (albeit not in all regions of the world) on the offi­cial YouTube Movies & TV chan­nel, where the lat­est gen­er­a­tions of Mon­ty Python fans first dis­cov­ered their work. Even if lines like “I fart in your gen­er­al direc­tion” no longer raise any trans­gres­sive fris­son, there’s still lit­tle on that plat­for­m’s uni­verse of con­tent to match Mon­ty Python and the Holy Grail’s mul­ti­lay­ered silli­ness, whose place in the annals of com­e­dy leg­end has long since been assured.

Relat­ed con­tent:

Ter­ry Gilliam’s Lost Ani­ma­tions from Mon­ty Python and the Holy Grail Are Now Online

Mon­ty Python’s Eric Idle Breaks Down His Most Icon­ic Char­ac­ters

Mon­ty Python and the Holy Grail Cen­sor­ship Let­ter: We Want to Retain “Fart in Your Gen­er­al Direc­tion”

Mon­ty Python and the Holy Grail Re-Imag­ined as an Epic, Main­stream Hol­ly­wood Film

Mon­ty Python’s Best Phi­los­o­phy Sketch­es

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities and the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

Where The Simpsons Began: Discover the Original Shorts That Appeared on The Tracey Ullman Show (1987–1989)

When it first went on air in the late nine­teen-eight­ies, Fox had to prove itself capa­ble of play­ing in a tele­vi­su­al league with the likes of NBC, CBS, and ABC. To that end, it began build­ing its prime-time line­up with two orig­i­nal pro­grams more the­mat­i­cal­ly and aes­thet­i­cal­ly dar­ing than any­thing on those staid net­works: the sit­com Mar­ried… with Chil­dren and the sketch com­e­dy series The Tracey Ull­man Show. Before and after com­mer­cial breaks, the lat­ter treat­ed its ear­ly view­ers to a series of irrev­er­ent ani­mat­ed shorts cre­at­ed by an acclaimed car­toon­ist and fea­tur­ing the vocal tal­ents of Dan Castel­lan­e­ta, Julie Kavn­er, and Nan­cy Cartwright. I speak, of course, of Dr. N!Godatu.

On an alter­nate time­line, per­haps the per­son­al and pro­fes­sion­al adven­tures of that near-unflap­pable psy­chother­a­pist were spun off into their own hit series that broke every record for prime-time ani­ma­tion and is now in its 36th sea­son.

Here in our real­i­ty, how­ev­er, that’s been the des­tiny of The Simp­sons, which also began as The Tracey Ull­man Show’s bumper enter­tain­ment. Dr. N!Godatu van­ished after a few weeks, nev­er to be seen again, but the Simp­son fam­i­ly remained for two full years, mak­ing their final short-from appear­ance in May of 1989. Sev­en months lat­er, The Simp­sons made its Christ­mas-spe­cial debut — an event that, if you don’t remem­ber watch­ing, I can’t count you as a mem­ber of my gen­er­a­tion.

Not that, giv­en my young age, I’d ever actu­al­ly seen The Tracey Ull­man Show at the time. But the hard pro­mo­tion­al push lead­ing up to that first real Simp­sons offered glimpses into an ani­mat­ed world that looked and felt com­plete­ly nov­el. (Hav­ing grown accus­tomed over gen­er­a­tions to the show’s aes­thet­ic, we eas­i­ly for­get how bizarre its yel­low-skinned, uni­ver­sal­ly over­bite-afflict­ed char­ac­ters once looked.) Many who tuned in would­n’t have been aware that that look and feel had­n’t been cre­at­ed out of whole cloth, but rather had emerged through the evo­lu­tion­ary process you can wit­ness in the 48 orig­i­nal Simp­sons shorts col­lect­ed in the Youtube playlist at the top of the post (and the hour-long con­sol­i­dat­ed video here).

To even a casu­al Simp­sons view­er, every­thing in these shorts will seem at once famil­iar and “off” in myr­i­ad ways. The design of the char­ac­ters looks both harsh­er and loos­er than it would lat­er become, and cer­tain of their voic­es, espe­cial­ly Castel­lan­e­ta’s Wal­ter Matthau-esque Homer, have yet to reflect the per­son­al­i­ties they would lat­er devel­op. The con­ven­tion­al­ly “car­toony” ani­ma­tion also dis­torts bod­ies and faces in ways that have long since been pro­hib­it­ed by the show’s offi­cial style guide­lines. Even so, there are occa­sion­al jokes and even haunt­ing moments of the kind we know from the first cou­ple of sea­sons, if noth­ing in par­tic­u­lar to fore­shad­ow The Simp­sons’ nine­teen-nineties gold­en age — or the three decades’ worth of episodes that have fol­lowed it.

Relat­ed con­tent:

The Rise and Fall of The Simp­sons: An In-Depth Video Essay Explores What Made the Show Great, and When It All Came to an End

Before The Simp­sons: Homer Groen­ing Directs a 1969 Short Film, The Sto­ry, Star­ring His Kids Mag­gie, Lisa & Matt

27 Movies Ref­er­ences in The Simp­sons Put Side-by-Side with the Movie Scenes They Paid Trib­ute To

Before The Simp­sons, Matt Groen­ing Illus­trat­ed a “Student’s Guide” for Apple Com­put­ers (1989)

The Simp­sons Reimag­ined as a Russ­ian Art Film

Thomas Pyn­chon Edits His Lines on The Simp­sons: “Homer is my role mod­el and I can’t speak ill of him.”

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities and the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

A Behind-the-Scenes Tour of Saturday Night Live’s Iconic Studio

To help cel­e­brate SNL’s 50th anniver­sary, Archi­tec­tur­al Digest has released a new video fea­tur­ing Hei­di Gard­ner, Chloe Fine­man, and Ego Nwodim giv­ing a tour of the Sat­ur­day Night Live set. The show has been broad­cast­ing live from Stu­dio 8H, locat­ed at 30 Rock­e­feller, since SNL first pre­miered in 1975. In this 22-minute tour, you’ll vis­it Stu­dio 8H itself, the Make­up Lab, the wardrobe and hair sta­tions, the dress­ing rooms, and the NBC Page Desk, all while meet­ing some of the crew that makes the show run behind the scenes. Enjoy!

If you would like to sign up for Open Culture’s free email newslet­ter, please find it here. It’s a great way to see our new posts, all bun­dled in one email, each day.

If you would like to sup­port the mis­sion of Open Cul­ture, con­sid­er mak­ing a dona­tion to our site. It’s hard to rely 100% on ads, and your con­tri­bu­tions will help us con­tin­ue pro­vid­ing the best free cul­tur­al and edu­ca­tion­al mate­ri­als to learn­ers every­where. You can con­tribute through Pay­Pal, Patre­on, and Ven­mo (@openculture). Thanks!

Relat­ed Con­tent 

Watch the His­toric First Episode of Sat­ur­day Night Live with Host George Car­lin (1975)

Inside SNL: Al Franken Reveals How Sat­ur­day Night Live Is Craft­ed Every Week

When William S. Bur­roughs Appeared on Sat­ur­day Night Live: His First TV Appear­ance (1981)

Every­thing You Need to Know About Sat­ur­day Night Live: A Deep Dive into Every Sea­son of the Icon­ic Com­e­dy Show

 

When William S. Burroughs Appeared on Saturday Night Live: His First TV Appearance (1981)

Though he nev­er said so direct­ly, we might expect that Sit­u­a­tion­ist Guy Debord would have includ­ed Sat­ur­day Night Live in what he called the “Spec­ta­cle”—the mass media pre­sen­ta­tion of a total­iz­ing real­i­ty, “the rul­ing order’s non­stop dis­course about itself, its nev­er-end­ing mono­logue of self-praise.” The slick­ness of TV, even live com­e­dy TV, masks care­ful­ly orches­trat­ed maneu­vers on the part of its cre­ators and adver­tis­ers. In Debor­d’s analy­sis, noth­ing is exempt­ed from the spec­ta­cle’s con­sol­i­da­tion of pow­er; it co-opts every­thing for its pur­pos­es. Even seem­ing con­tra­dic­tions with­in the spectacle—the skew­er­ing of polit­i­cal fig­ures, for exam­ple, to their seem­ing displeasure—serve the pur­pos­es of pow­er: The spec­ta­cle, wrote Debord, “is the oppo­site of dia­logue.”

So I won­der, what he might have made of the appear­ance of cult writer and Beat pio­neer William S. Bur­roughs on the com­e­dy show in 1981? Was Burroughs—a mas­ter­mind of the counterculture—co-opted by the pow­ers that be? The author of Junkie, Naked Lunch, and Cities of the Red Night also appeared in a Nike ad and sev­er­al films and music videos, becom­ing a “pres­ence in Amer­i­can pop cul­ture,” writes R.U. Sir­ius in Every­body Must Get Stoned.

David Seed notes that Bur­roughs “is remem­bered by many mem­bers of the intel­li­gentsia and glit­terati as din­ner part­ner for the likes of Andy Warhol, David Bowie, and Mick Jag­ger,” though he had “been a mod­el for the polit­i­cal and social left.” Had he been neutered by the 80s, his out­ra­geous­ly anar­chist sen­ti­ments turned to rad­i­cal kitsch?

Or maybe Bur­roughs dis­rupt­ed the spec­ta­cle, his dron­ing, monot­o­nous deliv­ery giv­ing view­ers of SNL exact­ly the oppo­site of what they were trained to expect. The appear­ance was his widest expo­sure to date (imme­di­ate­ly after­ward, he moved from New York to Lawrence, Kansas). One of the show’s writ­ers con­vinced pro­duc­er Dick Eber­sol to put Bur­roughs on. In rehearsal, writes Bur­roughs’ biog­ra­ph­er Ted Mor­gan, Eber­sol “found Bur­roughs ‘bor­ing and dread­ful,’ and ordered that his time slot be cut from six to three and a half min­utes. The writ­ers, how­ev­er, con­spired to let his per­for­mance stand as it was, and on Novem­ber 7, he kicked off the show sit­ting behind a desk, the light­ing giv­ing his face a sepul­chral gaunt­ness.”

In the grainy video above, Bur­roughs reads from Naked Lunch and cut-up nov­el Nova Express, bring­ing the sadis­tic Dr. Ben­way into Amer­i­ca’s liv­ing rooms, as the audi­ence laughs ner­vous­ly. Sound effects of bombs and strains of the nation­al anthem play behind him as he reads. It stands as per­haps one of the strangest moments in live tele­vi­sion. “Bur­roughs had posi­tioned him­self as the Great Out­sider,” writes Mor­gan, “but on the night of Novem­ber 7 he had reached the posi­tion where the actress Lau­ren Hut­ton could intro­duce him to an audi­ence of 100 mil­lion view­ers as Amer­i­ca’s great­est liv­ing writer.” I’m sure Bur­roughs got a kick out of the descrip­tion. In any case, the clip shows us a SNL of bygone days that occa­sion­al­ly dis­rupt­ed the usu­al state of pro­gram­ming, as when it had punk band Fear on the show.

Per­haps Bur­roughs’ com­mer­cial appear­ances also show us how the coun­ter­cul­ture gets co-opt­ed and repack­aged for mid­dle-class tastes. Then again, one of the great ironies of Bur­roughs’ life is that he both began and end­ed it as “a true mem­ber of the mid­west­ern tax-pay­ing mid­dle class.” The fol­low­ing year in Lawrence, Kansas, he “caught up on his cor­re­spon­dence.” One stu­dent in Mon­tre­al wrote, imag­in­ing him in “a male whore­house in Tang­i­er.” Bur­roughs replied, “No… I live in a small house on a tree-lined street in Lawrence, Kansas, with my beloved cat Rus­ki. My hob­bies are hunt­ing, fish­ing, and pis­tol prac­tice.” Did Bur­roughs, who spent his life destroy­ing mass cul­ture with cut-ups and curs­es, sell out—as he once accused Tru­man Capote of doing—by becom­ing a celebri­ty?

Per­haps we should let him answer the charge. In answer to a fan from Eng­land who called him “God,” Bur­roughs wrote, “You got me wrong, Ray­mond, I am but a hum­ble prac­ti­tion­er of the scriven­er’s trade. God? Not me. I don’t have the qual­i­fi­ca­tions. Old Sarge told me years ago: ‘Don’t be a vol­un­teer, kid.’ God is always try­ing to foist his lousy job not some­one else. You got­ta be crazy to take it. Just a Tech Sergeant in the Shake­speare Squadron.” Bur­roughs may have used his celebri­ty sta­tus to his lit­er­ary advan­tage, and used it to pay the bills and work with artists he admired and vice-ver­sa, but he nev­er saw him­self as more than a writer (and per­haps lay magi­cian), and he abjured the hero wor­ship that made him a cult fig­ure.

Note: An ear­li­er ver­sion of this post appeared on our site in 2016.

Relat­ed Con­tent 

Beat Writer William S. Bur­roughs Spreads Coun­ter­cul­ture Cool on Nike Sneak­ers, 1994

When John Belushi Booked the Punk Band Fear on SNL, And They Got Banned from the Show: A Short Doc­u­men­tary

William S. Bur­roughs Sends Anti-Fan Let­ter to In Cold Blood Author Tru­man Capote: “You Have Sold Out Your Tal­ent”

How William S. Bur­roughs Used the Cut-Up Tech­nique to Shut Down London’s First Espres­so Bar (1972)

The “Priest” They Called Him: A Dark Col­lab­o­ra­tion Between Kurt Cobain & William S. Bur­roughs

by | Permalink | Make a Comment ( 2 ) |

Watch the Historic First Episode of Saturday Night Live with Host George Carlin (1975)

50 years of Sat­ur­day Night Live. It all start­ed here with this first episode, aired on Octo­ber 11, 1975. George Car­lin host­ed the show. Bil­ly Pre­ston and Janis Ian served up the music. Jim Hen­son staged an elab­o­rate pup­pet show. And “the Not Ready for Prime Time Play­ers” (Belushi, Aykroyd, Gil­da, Jane, Chevy, Gar­rett, Laraine and the rest) pro­vid­ed the com­e­dy, per­form­ing the first of 10,000 sketch­es that have since aired over SNL’s long his­to­ry. SNL added the com­plete episode to its YouTube chan­nel, and you can now watch how it all began. Enjoy!

Relat­ed Con­tent 

When William S. Bur­roughs Appeared on Sat­ur­day Night Live: His First TV Appear­ance (1981)

Sat­ur­day Night Live’s Very First Sketch: Watch John Belushi Launch SNL in Octo­ber, 1975

5 Musi­cal Guests Banned From Sat­ur­day Night Live: From Elvis Costel­lo to Frank Zap­pa

David Bowie and Klaus Nomi’s Hyp­not­ic Per­for­mance on SNL (1979)

When John Belushi Booked the Punk Band Fear on SNL, And They Got Banned from the Show: A Short Doc­u­men­tary

 

Inside SNL: Al Franken Reveals How Saturday Night Live Is Crafted Every Week

As Sat­ur­day Night Live cel­e­brates its 50th anniver­sary, Al Franken takes you inside the mak­ing of an SNL episode. He should know a thing or two about the sub­ject. Part of the orig­i­nal SNL writ­ing team, Franken spent 15 years writ­ing and per­form­ing for the show. (Any­one remem­ber Stu­art Smal­l­ey giv­ing a moti­va­tion­al pep talk to Michael Jor­dan?) On his pod­cast, Franken walks you through what a typ­i­cal week on Sat­ur­day Night Live looks like. The week begins with the kick­off meet­ing on Mon­day, then moves mid-week to the writ­ing and selec­tion of sketch­es, and ends with dress rehearsals, the live show, and after-par­ty on Sat­ur­day. Above, Franken also talks about the role of the host and which ones excelled, and which ones flopped. If you would enjoy know­ing how the SNL sausage gets made, the 60-minute con­ver­sa­tion is well worth your while.

Relat­ed Con­tent 

Lorne Michaels Intro­duces Sat­ur­day Night Live and Its Bril­liant First Cast for the Very First Time (1975)

Gil­da Rad­ner Does a Com­ic Imper­son­ation of Pat­ti Smith: Watch the Clas­sic SNL Skit, “Rock Against Yeast” (1979)

Every­thing You Need to Know About Sat­ur­day Night Live: A Deep Dive into Every Sea­son of the Icon­ic Com­e­dy Show

When Was the Pin­na­cle of Sat­ur­day Night Live? A YouTu­ber Watch­es One Episode from Each Sea­son & Reports Back

Clas­sic Punk Rock Sketch­es from Sat­ur­day Night Live, Cour­tesy of Fred Armisen

 

Benedict Cumberbatch Reads a Letter to a Man Blow-Drying His Balls at the Gym

We have fea­tured Bene­dict Cum­ber­batch read­ing let­ters by Kurt Von­negut, Alan Tur­ing, Albert Camus, and Nick Cave, along with pas­sages from Kafka’s Meta­mor­pho­sis and Melville’s Moby Dick. It’s all pret­ty heady stuff. And now it’s time for some­thing com­plete­ly dif­fer­ent. Above, we have Mr. Cum­ber­batch read­ing, with clas­sic British under­state­ment, a com­i­cal let­ter writ­ten by Ross Bee­ley, back in 2011. The read­ing will help you get through anoth­er dystopi­an day.

Cum­ber­batch read this let­ter at an event called Let­ters Live, held in Lon­don’s Roy­al Albert Hall, in Decem­ber 2024.

Relat­ed Con­tent 

Bene­dict Cum­ber­batch Reads Kurt Vonnegut’s Let­ter of Advice to Peo­ple Liv­ing in the Year 2088

Hear Moby Dick Read in Its Entire­ty by Bene­dict Cum­ber­batch, Til­da Swin­ton, John Waters, Stephen Fry & More

Bene­dict Cum­ber­batch Reads Nick Cave’s Beau­ti­ful Let­ter About Grief

Bene­dict Cum­ber­batch Reads a Let­ter Alan Tur­ing Wrote in “Dis­tress” Before His Con­vic­tion For “Gross Inde­cen­cy”

Fred Armisen & Bill Hader’s Comedic Take on the History of Simon and Garfunkel

Dur­ing their days film­ing Doc­u­men­tary Now!, a mock­u­men­tary series that aired on IFC, Fred Armisen and Bill Had­er teamed up and cre­at­ed a fic­tion­al­ized “his­to­ry” of Simon and Gar­funkel, telling the “real” sto­ry behind the mak­ing of “Bridge Over Trou­bled Water” and “Mrs. Robinson”–stories you’ve assured­ly nev­er heard before. Have a laugh. Enjoy!

Relat­ed Con­tent 

Paul Simon Tells the Sto­ry of How He Wrote “Bridge Over Trou­bled Water” (1970)

Fred Armisen Teach­es a Short Sem­i­nar on the His­to­ry of Punk

Paul Simon Decon­structs “Mrs. Robin­son” (1970)

Clas­sic Punk Rock Sketch­es from Sat­ur­day Night Live, Cour­tesy of Fred Armisen

Art Gar­funkel Lists 1195 Books He Read Over 45 Years, Plus His 157 Favorites (Many Free)

Watch Simon & Gar­funkel Sing “The Sound of Silence” 45 Years After Its Release, and Just Get Haunt­ing­ly Bet­ter with Time

by | Permalink | Make a Comment ( 2 ) |

More in this category... »
Quantcast
OSZAR »