Diaries 1969-1979_ The Python Years - Michael Palin [147]
Stoppard a breath of fresh air after Frears’ gloomy frownings. He says, when it all boils down to it, filming is about getting together a group of people you like. He quotes Evelyn Waugh, ‘The Second World War wasn’t bad, provided you were with nice people.’
So the conversation steers away from me, without a decision, and on to who should be J – the other main part. Tim Curry of Rocky Horror fame is suggested as having the right public school background. Frears is worried that Tim may be enjoying life too much in Los Angeles. Robert Powell is suggested.1 They both agree he’s brilliant, but Stoppard is doubtful about his looks.’He’s a little Spanish-looking, gypsy-like for J.’ So nothing is decided.
Stoppard has to go to a rehearsal of Travesties (yet another in his long line of award-winning plays) next door at the Aldwych. As he leaves we shake hands and he says, ‘If I next see you in a striped blazer and a boater with a pillow stuffed up your trousers, I’d be very pleased.’
Saturday) May 17th
It’s foul weather again. Little sympathy among the gods for Gospel Oak’s Nuts in May Festival. Mary and Catherine B [Helen’s sister and her daughter] lunch here and we stand in the rain in Lamble Street waiting for the procession to appear. Bedraggled but unbowed, the floats begin to turn the corner from Grafton Road. They vary from flower gardens, to pleasantly unspectacular scenes of nursing life, to a Gothic anti-eviction float from the squatters, with a huge, bloody papier-mâché axe poised above the grinning kids on top of the float. On one a girl dances like the neighbourhood Isadora, long, flowing, rather absurd movements, for she is dressed in army boots and is clearly well stoned. There is a huge carnival traffic jam in Lamble Street as they try to manoeuvre an extra-large float into Lismore Circus. I film some of it. No respite for my identity problem. I am spotted by two girls atop the Inter-Action Art Bus, who wave excitedly. One of them bends down to shout something into the cab. Within moments the loudspeaker booms out ‘A big hello to Mr Eric Idle, who you can see is with us today.’
Thursday, May 22nd
Out to lunch at Gay Hussar with John Cleese and the Sunday Express.
The Sunday Express was represented by an attractive, dark-haired, heavily-pregnant lady called Olga something,1 who turned out to be a writer for the Express Diary (no, not the Express Dairy). She tried hard to be nice and understanding, and in return we were models of public school charm and politeness. I’m glad it was just a diary story, because this sweet lady did constantly get the wrong end of the stick, and I would hate to have entrusted her with hard information. But I suppose she will be the first journalist to learn of our plans for a new film – and my part in Three Men.
At 6.00 at the Henshaws’ for a Python meeting. All present, except Eric, who is in France. Briskly it was decided to set aside Sept/Oct period of 1976 to write a new film and May/June 1977 to film it.
Gilliam is the lone voice of bitter protest against this timetable. He rants and raves about ‘leisurely lives’ and clearly fears that we are signing ourselves a death warrant. The rest of us accept it. Actually I think what we have decided is quite sensible, though I feel that a year’s break would have been better than eighteen months – and he’s right, there’s no certainty that when the next movie comes out – in New Year 1978 – Python will carry the same impetus which is filling the box offices at the moment.
My dates for Three Men in a Boat were confirmed today. They amount to nearly six weeks’ work. The fee is a little more than half what I was offered to spend half an hour at the Knebworth concert. C’est showbiz.
Saturday, May 24th
Copy of a letter arrived in the post from Maurice Girodias, famous publisher of the Olympia Press in Paris in the 1950s – the first man to publish Candy, Lolita,