Pure, unadulterated madness has invaded the City Center 55th Street Theater. A bunch of lunatics calling themselves Monty Python have taken over the theater and are forcing unsuspecting people to laugh. Almost at gunpoint. They are vulgar, sophomoric, self-satisfied, literate, illiterate, charmless, crass, subtle, and absolutely terrific. They are the funniest thing ever to come out of a television box….
How is one to describe Monty Python? A candid consensus of critics who might be called Charlie Cobra, could easily have written in the East Ham Gazette, describing them: "As coming from the streets of Bergamo—like the commedia dell'arte and pizza. Raw and earthy, they combine the wry savagery of Tom Lehrer and the poetic anarchy of 'Hel'zapoppin.' Were we to accept the Bergsonian concept of humor—which not for a moment we do—we would suggest that their depiction of the polarization and the alienation of modern man, the almost touching juxtaposition, as it were, of foot with banana skin, is a symbolic metaphor of an industrial society totally enraged. Monty Python truly is the snake in the Garden of modern Eden—a child of our time, a reptile of truly significant immediacy."
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