So, Anyway... By John Cleese
Ja lieber John Cleese wo warst Du noch mal mit Deinen Gedanken.....
Auf jeden Fall überhaupt nicht dort, wo ich Dich erwartet hätte. Wenn ich eine Cleese Biografie lese, will ich wissen, wie der Ritter der Kokosnuss entstanden ist, wie die Sexszenen mit Jamie Lee Curtis waren, wie zur Hölle die Pythons auf einige Szenen im Sinn des Lebens und beim Leben des Brian gekommen sind, wie man mit meinem Regie-Idol Terry Gilliam zusammenarbeiten kann und wie die Truppe sich so ganz privat aufführt.
Was habe ich bekommen? Ganze 25 Seiten von Monty Python und sonst 450 Seiten Geschwafel, in denen sogar jeder langweilige Lehrer der Grundschule - und nicht nur die interessanten Persönlichkeiten, die geprägt haben - aufs lähmenste in ihrer Mittelmäßgikeit skizziert werden. Ich kann mich selbst gar nicht mehr an meine eigenen durchschnittlichen Lehrer erinnern. Manche bezeichnen diese Bio im guten Sinne als geschwätzig - dem guten Sinn bzw. der guten Absicht hier kann ich überhaupt nicht zustimmen. Die ganzen Szenen eines ziemlich faden Lebens werden gnadenlos breit ausgewalzt - nach 150 Seiten war er noch nicht mal auf der Uni und ich schätze mal 60% der Weltbevölkerung haben in den ersten 18 Jahren ihres Lebens auch interessantere und berichtenswertere Szenen erlebt.
Auf der Uni wird das Buch dann ein bisschen besser, weil Cleese das erste Mal Comedyluft schnuppert, aber dann ist es auch immer wieder der gleiche lähmende Ablauf. Ein paar Ideen, ein paar bekannte spannende Leute, ein bisschen Witz aber nicht wirklich viel, ein paar Pannen, und die Sketche seitenlang im Buch aufgeschrieben (was außer für Fachleute selbstverständlich im Medium Buch ohne Darstellung gar nicht funktioniert).
Eigentlich müsste auf der Biografie stehen: Eine Bio von John Cleese bevor er wirklich etwas konnte und Python wurde, aber das haben weder der Autor noch der Verlag irgendwo angedeutet. Ich finde es grenzt ja schon an Beschiss, den Fans für das Prequel - oder soll ich es fades Vorgepänkel der eigentlichen Biografie nennen - knappe 24 Euro abzuknöpfen und mit keinem Wort zu erwähnen, dass es nicht um die Pythons geht, im Gegenteil, mit der Truppe auch noch irreführend im Klappentext zu werben. Der Gipfel an Gier, Knausrigkeit und Inkompetenz wird dann auch noch durch den Verlag erklommen, indem der erstens zu geizig für ein Lesezeichenbändchen war und zweitens bei der Übersetzung offensichtlich sehr viel Geld gespart hat, wodurch vor allem zu Beginn des Werke derart haarsträubende Satzfehler, Fallfehler etc. auftraten, dass selbst mir, die gewöhnt ist, durch das Lesen von Studentenmasterthesen geflissentlich darüber hinwegzusehen und sich nicht zu ärgern, die Galle hochgekommen ist. Am Lektorat wurde offensichtlich auch gespart, denn sonst wären sicher 200 Seiten zusammengestrichen worden.
Dabei ist es nicht so, dass Cleese gar nicht schreiben kann, machmal skizziert er Personen sehr treffend und liefert, wenn ich mir meine Post-Its anschaue, 6 durchaus knackige Bonmots als Sätze, was ihm von mir einen zweiten Stern eingebracht hat. Aber die Einstellung, mit der Herr John Cleese an dieses Werk herangegangen ist, finde ich dermaßen degoutant und überheblich seinen Fans gegenüber, dass mir die Spucke wegbleibt - lasst Euch die Worte dieses Herrn, der mich um 24 Euro und eine Woche Zeit beschissen hat, nur auf der Zunge zergehen. Hier erklärt er, warum er elend lange Sketchskripten in die Biografie hineingepackt hat, obwohl diese eben im Medium Buch, wenn sie nicht aufgeführt werden, für Otto Normalverbraucher, der noch nie Regieanweisungen gelesen hat, überhaupt nicht funktionieren:
1. Die Sketche sind wirklich komisch (meiner Meinung nach und das ist mein verdammtes Buch)...
3. Ich weiß, dieses Buch soll eine Autobiografie sein, aber die Wahrheit ist, dass sich die meisten von Ihnen einen feuchten Kehrricht um die Person John Cleese scheren, oder was für mich und die vielschichtigen Seelennöte empfinden, die mich zu meinem besondern Ich machen.
Sorry mit so einer Einstellung schreibt man sicher keine Biografie für seine Fans. Das ist ein proaktive Herabwürdigung der sehr wohlgesonnenen Leserschaft, damit er dann nicht so ein schlechtes Gewissen hat, wenn er sie vorführt und abzockt. Auch ich war bis vor einer Woche ein Fan dieses Herren, aber das hat sich hiermit erübrigt. Widerlich.
Fazit: Sparts Euch! Und ich sag leise Servus zu einem Idol meiner Vergangenheit. So, Anyway... Boy did this one suck to review.
To clear the air, I should start by saying I love everything Python. And in interviews about the book, Cleese always came off as kind and as witty as ever.
So I expected to find more of that inside the book. I assumed this was reasonable request....
Luckily I was also aware that John Cleese has been known to be difficult at times, and as it turns out, this is the Cleese I should have been expecting.
This is the Cleese who seems to enjoy nothing more than spending his time complaining about people. This seems odd for a comedian, and is very off putting to read since so many of these people are either in no position to respond (read: probably dead), or people he worked with for many years and shouldn't be so dismissive of. It is especially odd given how much John harps on how his Englishness prevents him from doing so.
It was also jarring how often he attempted to apply his understanding of psychology to many unnecessary situations. He will throw out the name of a book he has read, comment on how something is a Freudian penis, or just say what one of his many docs have thought about an event in his life. In the end, they just really felt forced and didn't contribute to the book.
This doesn't mean that the entire book was a flop, and there were many enjoyable parts, its just that all this detracted so much from the rest.
It is sad to say, but I feel let down by one of the ministry's top officials.
So, Anyway... I bought So, Anyway... by John Cleese on a whim. It was an Audible deal of the day. Why not? I like John Cleese's work. I like Monty Python. I like comedy. It was a bargain price.
It was much better than I was expecting. An absolute delight. John focuses on his early life through to the first Monty Python programmes, with a final chapter on the Monty Python reunion shows at the O2 Arena in 2014. Reading about these shows sent me off to YouTube to watch some of the show and I recommend you do the same. A more life-reaffirming bunch of clips it's harder to imagine.
I always appreciate listening to autobiographies read by their authors. John's narration is wonderful. What's most endearing and enjoyable is hearing him laugh during anecdotes he relates, having been reminded of the humour whilst telling the tale.
There's loads to love in 'So, Anyway...'. This is from the blurb (which saves me having to write it all out myself)...
John Cleese describes his nerve-racking first public appearance, at St Peter's Preparatory School at the age of eight and five-sixths; his endlessly peripatetic homelife, with parents who seemed incapable of staying in any house for longer than six months; his first experiences in the world of work, as a teacher who knew nothing about the subjects he was expected to teach; his hamster-owning days at Cambridge; and his first encounter with the man who would be his writing partner for over two decades, Graham Chapman. And so on to his dizzying ascent via scriptwriting for Peter Sellers, David Frost, Marty Feldman and others to the heights of Monty Python.
If you like the sound of that little lot then rest assured you'll thoroughly enjoy this book. Weaved into the memories are other musings too.
It's blimming marvellous. I hope he'll write a follow up as there's lots more of his life still to explore.
4/5
So, Anyway... www.melissa413readsalot.blogspot.com
I love reading memoirs, especially of different BBC actors I enjoy.
John Cleese did a great job of writing this book. Some of the books I have read just talk about their lives in film, plays, etc., but in this book JC actually writes about his childhood.
I would never have known he was bullied when he was younger. They thought he was a sissy, among other things. And he was tall at a very young age! At some point when he got a little older the bullying finally stopped when they found out he was pretty funny and one tussle with another kid ended it all.
This book had me cracking up! I soooooo wanted to add an excerpt from the book when he was young in school, but it was such a long one I didn't want to break it up to add it here. I mean it would have been my whole review! Basically it's about him being in class, looking over and seeing one of his classmates..um... doing things to his privates and another boy coming over to watch. I have to tell you that every day I'm worried about having a stroke or heart attack and after reading that and laughing so hard I thought I was going to blow a gasket on top of it all. The way he wrote it from his perspective is so funny, but I'm sure anyone that knows JC, can only imagine how funny that part was.
So the book goes on from when he was a young kid for a good bit and shows tons of pictures throughout the book from a baby to his years in plays and movies.
It is always cool learning things about people you see on tv, in my opinion anyway, and I had no idea he was a teacher and that he was going to be a lawyer before the BBC got hold of him. Just so many things we never know.
I think anyone that is a fan of John Cleese would find this book very interesting. I know I did.
*I would like to thank Blogging For Books for the print edition of this book in exchange for my honest review.*
So, Anyway... [I've gotten behind in my reviews, and I was having a hard time convincing myself to write the next one in order, so screw that, I just moved on to the one I wanted to write about at the moment, and I may or may not ever succeed at filling in the gaps. But because I'm so behind, and taking a leave from work, I'm going to try to get all caught up, which means I may well be clogging up your feed for which I am sorry.]
This is exactly the sort of book I want to read by any sort of famous person. Many a biography/memoir by many an admired person has lead to disappointment, betrayal, and heartbreak. I had to quit reading Elvis Costello's book not because it jumped around, nor because it had too much about playing and recording music, nor even because I had to look him up on Wiki to get the basics facts of his life in my mind. No, what I couldn't bear was learning that he has a scene in mind, or a mood, and he comes up with a line or two, and then he hangs on to those lines until he finds an appropriate place to use them. It's all very good for Oscar Wilde to write and rewrite his best quips, they are jokes, they don't have to have continuity. But song lyrics? I loved Costello's lyrics, although I have always found it hard to remember more than two lines together. Now I know why. Sigh. I still love Costello, but I knew that I really didn't want to read any more of his book, because I could only bear so much of that sort of revelation.
No, what I want from a famous person's book is a series of amusing or fascinating anecdotes, demonstrating both the delights and the peculiar pains of their work. Really, I want to sit in my living room, just me, and Graham Norton, and John Cleese, and I want this very amusing man to be lead into telling me all his most amusing stories. And I want to see pictures of his cats.
This particular book ends quite early in Cleese's life, before Monty Python, although he does explain how that comes to be. This is school, mostly, and how he came to be studying law, and what it was like for him to be a teacher at the school he had attended only a few years earlier. That sort of thing. How supportive his father always was, how odd and difficult his mother could be. Really, about as much as I want to know about a stranger: what he cares about, what gives him joy, what he likes to do with his friends, some of what he's learned over the years about writing comedy. Lemurs. You know, casual small talk sort of stuff. With the occasional aside acknowledging some of the widespread prejudices of the times, and how much better life is for at least some people now because we've stopped that.
I've got two more reviews in this vein to come: Gloria Steinem and Illeana Douglas. I'll tell you now, so you can skip the reviews and go straight to the books. They're both exactly this kind of thing: amusing and interesting tales of people doing what they enjoy. Best enjoyed with cocktails and cigarettes, even if one neither drinks nor smokes, it's just the right mood.
Library copy So, Anyway...
Candid and brilliantly funny, this is the story of how a tall, shy youth from Weston-super-Mare went on to become a self-confessed legend. En route, John Cleese describes his nerve-racking first public appearance, at St Peter’s Preparatory School at the age of eight and five-sixths; his endlessly peripatetic home life with parents who seemed incapable of staying in any house for longer than six months; his first experiences in the world of work as a teacher who knew nothing about the subjects he was expected to teach; his hamster-owning days at Cambridge; and his first encounter with the man who would be his writing partner for over two decades, Graham Chapman. And so on to his dizzying ascent via scriptwriting for Peter Sellers, David Frost, Marty Feldman, and others to the heights of Monty Python.
Punctuated from time to time with John Cleese’s thoughts on topics as diverse as the nature of comedy, the relative merits of cricket and waterskiing, and the importance of knowing the dates of all the kings and queens of England, this is a masterly performance by a former schoolmaster. So, Anyway...
I received an advance copy of this autobiography from Netgalley in exchange for an honest review.
This is a very generous and unexpected autobiography. I say that because most books of these types merely retell the scandals, bask in the highlights, and dish the dirt on the nasty habits of famous people. Well, we all love that and if we are being honest, that is why we paid the price of admission.
Not so this time. While Mr. Cleese does tell us what he really thinks of some of the famous, and not so famous, people in his life, the book isn’t really about that. Even when he does roast someone, it is usually in terms that are so over the top, and above all so damn funny, that it is hard to see any animosity in it. No lurid tales. No hatchet jobs on celebrities. What you do get is an extended tour inside the mind of a comic genius.
Mr. Cleese is a very intelligent, well read, and introspective man---who just happens to enjoy and be very good at absurd and farce. For me though, his brand of comedy is superior to the more recent absurdist humor of say a Will Farrell or Seth Green because through it all, it never loses its intelligence. You don’t feel that you lost IQ points just by watching the movie. Quite the opposite, actually. I always felt that Cleese and the other writers that he worked with had a respect for their audience that I feel is lacking in some modern writers. Give me A Fish Called Wanda every time.
Writers. This is a book about comedy writers. That is a real distinction here. Cleese points it out and that is something I took away from this book. Cleese, Chapman, Idle, Palin, and Jones were first writers, and only secondarily performers. Cleese doesn’t focus on description of performances, other than telling in hilarious and self deprecating detail as to how nervous he was before many important performances or how something got screwed up and why. What he does do is describe his views on what is funny, and even why we perceive it as funny. As someone who might have been happy living the life of an academic, he gives the reader a master class in comedy, and human nature. He also lets us in on what makes him tick, both as a comedy writer, and as a person, which in turn shaped his individual mindset and, from there, his very original sense of humor. It is almost as if a famous musician would explain what he was thinking as he wrote a iconic song, which they seldom do. I doubt they would want us to know. Not so with Cleese who seems to enjoy the analysis, as did I.
If you are interested in hearing who had the drinking problems, who cheated on who, and who had the most sex with farm animals, this is not the right autobiography. If you are interested in an intelligent conversation with a comedy genius (who doesn’t consider himself to be one) about the nature of comedy and comedians, the history of British comedy, and his own place in the overall scheme of things, then you will enjoy this very thorough yet lightly conversational book.
So, Anyway... Update Rant:(Because apparently I have to state the obvious).This review is simply my personal opinion of this book, everyone else is entitled to their own opinion. Just as I do not begrudge readers who enjoy books I hate and/or hate books I love, I would appreciate if others would do the same. My rating of this book has nothing to do with John Cleese as a person or his previous or current works. This rating is based on my OWN OPINION of this single book. Being attacked for an unbiased review is disgusting. Let go of the hate people!
FREE ADVICE!
“Holding onto anger is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die.”
― Gautama Buddha
Luckily for trolls I just auto delete all rude ramblings. You're Welcome.
/End Rant
Review:
Well that was quite possibly the most tedious autobiography that I have ever had the misfortune of reading. I enjoyed the first 20%, but after that it quickly went downhill. The pointless rambles , constant copy/pasted sketches and petty judgements of former colleagues did little to keep me interested. This doesn't feel so much of an autobiography as a boring and pointless collection of forgetful paragraphs. 2.5/5
Buy, Borrow or Bin verdict: BIN
Note: I received this book for free in exchange for an honest review.
So, Anyway... 3.5 ⭐'s So, Anyway... I expected a book about Monty Python member, John Cleese, to be a wacky, non-linear story of life sketches linked together by loony intervals (“That’s a link!”) Instead, it was wonderful remembrances starting with his childhood and ending at Monty Python. Of note, if you are a Python fan you only get the last two chapters about the actual writing and performing of the show and the 2014 Reunion shows. However, along the way you learn the genesis of classics like the cheese shop and dead parrot sketches and how he met the other Python members. (His brilliant follow-up series, Fawlty Towers is mentioned to a lesser degree, unfortunately.)
First and foremost, John Cleese is a writer. Originally he went to Cambridge to be a lawyer, joining Footlights at the school to write and perform, where he met medical student, Graham Chapman. This led to writing gigs for the BBC where he wrote for David Frost and worked with the likes of Marty Feldman and the two Ronnies. Interestingly, when David Frost gave Graham and John a show of their own, they insisted Marty Feldman appear in front of the camera as well as write (David Frost felt him too funny looking). At first they had to work with Marty patiently on his lines, until he got comfortable in front of the camera. A star was born! John also wrote for and worked with the world’s leading comedy actor at the time, Peter Sellers.
So anyway…John Cleese is witty, intelligent and self-deprecating, making his book a wonderful read. (As an added bonus, if you leave the book right side up on your nightstand, his eyes will follow you around the room.)
So, Anyway... R handed me the package with a wry smile and an apologetic twist of the mouth. I know it's not your usual style Mum. But it's not the run-of-the-mill celebrity memoir, I'm sure....
Celebrity memoir!?!?!? Sheesh.
But then I opened it.
Ha!
The best presents are the ones you never knew you wanted.
For yes, I have long nurtured a secret, what shall I say? idolization esteem? fondness? for Mr Cleese. For one thing he makes me laugh, quite helplessly and uncontrollably, and for another he dreamt up Archie Leach. Archie Leach in A Fish Called Wanda. A man who can transport Wanda by speaking a foreign language: now there's an intriguing idea for a polyglot.
I like to think there's some resemblance. Just a bit.
So, anyway, the book.
It takes us from his beginnings in Weston-super-Mare to the point where the Monty Python team got together, some of the dynamics between them, and a very swift skip forward to the O2 reunion in 2014. Very little about his private life, only Connie Booth puts in an appearance, not the three (three!) following wives. Unless your early years were spent with The Goon Show, I'm Sorry I'll Read That Again, I'm Sorry I Haven't A Clue, The Frost Report and Monty Python's Flying Circus then the name-dropping (and inevitably there has to be some) probably won't mean much to you, but there is some pretty astute analysis of how comedy works, and ideas for getting the creative juices flowing. When he and Graham Chapman decided to approach the other Pythons on the strength of the children's show they were doing (Do Not Adjust Your Sets) Michael Mills, head of BBC Comedy, told them to go away and make thirteen programmes, without any kind of pilot or presentation or even a clear idea of what they were intending to do. So.
So the next morning Chapman and I sat down and stared into the distance for a bit, before, as usual, I picked up Roget's Thesaurus and started reading out words at random.
Buttercup. Filter. Catastrophe. Glee. Plummet.
Ah, said Gra. I like plummet.
A couple of minutes passed.
A sheep would plummet, wouldn't it? one of us said.
If it tried to fly, you mean? said the other.
(I should explain that when you've written a piece with someone you can never remember afterwards who exactly contributed what.)
But why would it want to fly?
To escape?
I like plummet too.
So, anyway.
Naturally, as one might expect, the laugh/page ratio is excellent. Just one more: (Weston-super-Mare was bombed on August 14, 1940)
The Germans were a people famous for their efficiency, so why would they drop perfectly good bombs on Weston-super-Mare, when there was nothing in Weston that a bomb could destroy that could possibly be as valuable as the bomb that destroyed it?
The Germans did return, however, and several times, which mystified everyone. Nevertheless I can't help thinking that Westonians actually quite liked being bombed: it gave them a significance that was otherwise lacking from their lives. But that still leaves the question why would the Hun have bothered? Was it just Teutonic joi de vivre? Did the pilots mistake the Weston seafront for the Western Front? I have heard it quite seriously put forward by older Westonians that it was done at the behest of William Joyce, the infamous Lord Haw-Haw, who was hanged as a traitor in 1944 by the British for making Nazi propaganda broadcasts to Britain during the war. When I asked these amateur historians why a man of Irish descent who was born in Brooklyn would have such an animus against Weston that he would buttonhole Hitler on the matter, they fell silent. I prefer to believe that it was because of a grudge held by Reichsmarschall Hermann Goering on account of an unsavoury incident on Weston pier in the 1920s, probably involving Noel Coward and Terence Rattigan.
My father's explanation, however, makes the most sense: he said the Germans bombed Weston to show that they really do have a sense of humour.
So, anyway.
You can probably detect from that quote that a certain tolerance is needed: superciliousness and rejection of pc language do bubble through sometimes, but wry self-deprecation more than makes up for the odd lapse.
A nice bit of comic relief. So, Anyway...
