Diaries 1969-1979_ The Python Years - Michael Palin [242]
But Langan’s is, of course, posh and moneyed and quite obviously aimed at those with enough money to pay for style rather than essentials. Derek is the ideal company to enjoy such a place with. He’s sensible and sensitive and articulate and enjoys laughing a lot. They have legions of children – one of whom is into punk rock at the moment.
Sadly, Derek is away to Los Angeles to live for a few years – accepting promotion to Vice-President of Warner Brothers Records. I hope he doesn’t stay away for long – England needs people like him. His wife Joan is jolly and down to earth and they both know a lot of famous people (via the Beatles) and yet can enjoy jokes about people knowing famous people. They know what’s bullshit and what isn’t. A rare quality in the frenetic music biz.
Sunday, July 10th
Al and Eve Levinson are in London at the moment. I saw them last week, when Al proudly thrust his latest Fish novel/autobiography upon me. It’s longer than Millwork (my favourite) or Shipping Out (naval larks) and has an awful pun for a title – Rue Britannia.
Through Eve I have made the acquaintance of Arnold Wesker.1 I took Eve up to Wesker’s in Highgate (within spitting distance of G Chapman’s). Eve persuaded me to go in and say hello, and Arnold’s wife got very excited and said that their daughters had been dying to meet me. In the sitting room were gathered lots of young teenage kids – mostly Weskers – and a brace of Americans, including a professor from the University of Wisconsin who is doing a paper on Arnold. Arnold stands, stockily built, but in good trim, shirt open three or four buttons revealing hirsute chest, an easy manner, but on his toes like a boxer.
Then the boyfriend of the daughter, who is an enormous fan, arrived and she introduced him to the professors, playwrights and unpublished novelists’ wives, but missed me out. She made up for it by saying she was leaving me to last – which she did – and with a flourish said – ‘and this … is Terry Gilliam!’
Wednesday, July 13th
Wake heavy-headed after late night with the author of Rue Britannia and his wife. They dropped in last night from the theatre and much vodka (Eve) and brandy (Al) was drunk and Helen and I struggled to stay awake and reconcile our gentle domestic mood of approaching somnolence with Al and Eve’s holidaymakers’ energy.
I seem to remember a lot of laughter – and Eve looking very sour as I played Elgar. ‘What is this … ?’ she demanded in tones which only a true Brooklyner could affect. I changed it for reggae and Al and Eve danced to Bob Marley.
Some last-minute script work on Brian, then drive down to Park Square West for a group meeting. The changes and rewrites to the script are amicably accepted, but we have to agree today on some casting for Friday’s read-through. This casting, whilst it need not be binding for the film, could, as Eric put it, ‘stick’, so we have to make fairly far-reaching decisions between 12.45 and 1.30, when John has to leave.
Eric tells John (Graham being out of the room) that he, the two Terrys and myself, are of the opinion that John would be wasted as Brian and that Graham might be the best for it – he’s Roman-looking, which helps, and was quite good as the central figure in Grail – Graham looks good and is watchable.
John erupted at this – far more vehemently than I would have expected. Casting a quick eye at the door in case GC should reappear, he hissed agitatedly that it would be a disaster – take it from John, he’d been working with him recently and he (GC) couldn’t even find his place in the script.
Then Graham reappeared and, despite John’s outburst, it was suggested to him that he play Brian. Graham mumbled woollily and we went on to cast the rest – as John had to go. I was given Pilate, Ben, the Ex-Leper and the follower Francis, as well as Nisus Wettus – the centurion in charge of the crucifixion. Feel liberated from Dennis/Ripping Yarn juve leads at last, and