Film / Reviews
Review: John Cleese: Fawlty Towers at 50, St. George’s
Maybe he’s finally paid off his divorce bill, but John Cleese seems to be happy to be among a few hundred close friends to talk about one of the greatest TV comedy series of the 20th century in a fundraiser for Bristol’s wonderful yet perpetually cash-strapped Slapstick festival. Being a ‘wind him up and let him go’ kinda guy, there’s little for onstage interviewer Alex Lovell to do other that to steer him gently back to the point every so often.
Having made the smattering of young people present swear a vow of omerta, he rides his familiar hobby horses about the stupidity of modern TV executives and daft, disapproving wokeys not understanding how comedy works. But he also offers plenty of insight into the making of the show and laughs along with the plentiful illustrative clips (no false modesty here). He reveals, for example, his bafflement at how the first two takes on the famous scene in which Basil Fawlty beats his malfunctioning Mini with a tree branch didn’t work – until he found a piece of tree that was neither too stiff nor too floppy.
For a man of nearly 85 years old, he’s remarkably sharp if a little hard of hearing on occasion – which places him well ahead of most of his peers, many of whom are now, alas, deceased. But as this agreeably lengthy two-part show draws to its conclusion, he pleads mock-jokingly, “Can I go now?” Well, not quite. First he has to be presented with his Slapstick gong for achievements in physical comedy from the organisation’s director Chris Daniels. And receive a well-deserved standing ovation.
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