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Monday, March 28th

At 7.30 took seats in the Columbia [for the Jabberwocky premiere] (in a row with Terry J and Al and Terry G and Maggie). The theatre was full – caught sight of Ian Ogilvy, Ned Sherrin and other premiere luminaries. Unfortunately there seemed to be no representatives of yer average viewing public, and their absence was all too apparent as the film got under way.

It was hard work, sitting there watching yourself on screen messing around in the Middle Ages, and experiencing the almost tangible sensation of mild audience enthusiasm. Laughs – real laughs – seemed to come reluctantly, but when they did I breathed easily before going back into a sort of dry-mouthed muscular strait-jacket which tightens whenever I’m watching myself.

Eventually the quest and the undeniably effective monster fight won them over – and the applause at the end was not just sycophantic – but it was a tough viewing. I could hardly believe it was the same film I’d seen with the children two weeks before. Then there was a real sense of excitement and enjoyment and involvement. Tonight I felt that no-one quite knew how to react.

One or two handshakes. We were all promptly cleared out of the foyers by a zealous theatre attendant and Helen and I gave Neil Innes and Yvonne – our good friends of these occasions – a lift down to the London Dungeon where the Jabberwocky is now permanently on display.

Wine and much chatter in the cold and semi-darkness. There seemed to be equivocal feelings about the movie itself. Some unreservedly loving it, others, like Eric Idle, now hardening into strong opposition to it. (Graham Chapman left half-way through! John C rang at the last minute to say he couldn’t make it!)

One strange looming man shook my hand warmly and advised me that I was ‘about to make the quantum leap. Men in America will see this and within two years you’ll be an international star.’

Tuesday, March 29th

Woke early – about sevenish – heart thumping like a tugboat engine, head aching. The sort of feeling which resolves me never to touch alcohol again.

To Park Square West for a Python writing meeting. A very good session. Our rather hastily-written and assembled ending up to the crucifixion reduces people to crawling the floor with laughter. Simple expedients like funny voices finally triumphing over careful intellectual comment.

So all immensely cheered. The film now has an ending – which is something the Grail never had – and we seem to have successfully tackled the difficult area of the crucifixion – by treating it all with historical unemotionalism.

In the evening revel in the beauty of Loach’s Price of Coal. Script, camerawork, direction, acting – everything combines to warm and comfort with its Tightness and honesty. No artifice evident – a straightforward, highly competent piece of filmmaking. The best view of Yorkshire since Kes. It made me feel homesick – and said in fewer, funnier words than any polemical film, that working class life isn’t just noble or fine or any of those overblown words used by the non-working class – it’s a good life. Very funny, and it had all the production qualities I would like to achieve in Ripping Yarns.

Wednesday, March 30th

Morning writing session on Python. Though we work far fewer hours together now, the sessions are becoming more efficient.

Problems once so complex are being solved with a natural ease and unanimity which seemed impossible a year ago. Terry J will almost certainly direct. Gilliam may be in control of design. There is no room as yet for animation.

Thursday, March 31st

My bottom thrusts itself at me from The Guardian accompanied by a review from Derek Malcolm which begins ‘I like Jabberwocky’. He goes on at some length and it is a very complimentary, but not uncritical review. An enormous encouragement.

Time Out dismisses the film as a straining attempt to make people laugh, which doesn’t ultimately succeed. It seems to me there are two sorts of critics – one lot would prefer to like the