Diaries 1969-1979_ The Python Years - Michael Palin [266]
A bad afternoon for morale. Can only keep up on one ski for about ioo yards, whereas TJ, who began water-skiing a day after me, is now almost better on one than two.
Saturday, January 21st, Barbados
Paradise was soured a little by some strange texture to the orange juice. Graham later described it as ‘Brown’s revenge’, which I’m sure is not entirely unlikely. Brown can be very smiley and jokey and his face like an old Brazil nut can crack very easily into a grin, but at the same time he can put over the impression of glowering resentment as well as anyone I know. I think he likes us, but is disappointed in our style.
We are about as well dressed as shipwrecked mariners. We have tolerated a situation where Brown and Tull are the only ones who dress for dinner. In addition, we are guilty, I fear, of being too apologetic, too accessible, too informal.
I have noticed a misogynistic streak in Brown, too. Tania1 tells me today that every time he brings round the salad bowl he bangs her on the side of the head, ever so slightly, but quite deliberately.
The sunset was ten out of ten today – as if laying on some special final perfect treat for us to remember the island by. Eric, in his long Messianic white robe, strummed his guitar beside a beach fire, with a full moon shining over the Caribbean.
Tuesday, January 24th
More sombre weather. Set about organising our Ripping Yarn book-cover photo-call for tomorrow. Milton Abbas School have finally indicated their disapproval of’Tomkinson’ and will not let us film there again, so it has to be Hampstead Heath.
Thursday, January 26th
The rain is back. Find myself unable to settle to very much. Post-Barbadian lethargy. Feel sleepy and incapable of dynamic thought or action.
Monday, January 30th
Gather at 12.30 at 2 Park Square West. Summonsed by John Goldstone, who has news for us. Only three Pythons – myself, GC and TJ – left in the country.
John G settles us down and goes into quite a performance. Refuses to let on whether it’s good news or bad. After a lot of long looks and glum expressions, he produces papers which he hands to all of us. Set out in the type-written sheets are the terms of an anonymous offer which looks to provide us with what we were asking for: £1,240,000, which covers our budgeted below the line costs, and £512,000 (less than the £600,000 we asked for) for above the line. Artistic controls are not required and the terms of finance are 50% of the profit.
So far so good. John, warming to his theme, gives an impish smile and is very coy about revealing who it’s from.’The National Front?’ I asked him. John grins and produces another piece of paper headed with the dread name EMI. So EMI are back. EMI, who turned down the Holy Grail – then later picked it up for distribution and produced a pusillanimous campaign which rejected nearly all our ideas.
Now, three years later, we have a memo which reads ‘The board have already said it would be scandalous if EMI did not support its own major talent [i.e. Python] and let it go to an American major.’ Ho! Ho!
For the volte face we have to thank the new brooms of Michael Deeley and Barry Spikings, who used to run British Lion, and have now been brought in to zip up EMI’s film production. They already have a De Niro film – The Deer-hunter – and a Kristofferson picture – Convoy – in production. All this happened in the last week.
JG is very happy and recommends acceptance. It certainly brightens the drab day. And makes the new film a reality suddenly.
In the evening Nancy L rang. Saturday Night Live1 definitely want me to be a guest host sometime during the next full year’s schedule.
Tuesday, January 31st
January washes itself away. Brighten a drab day with lunch at Bianchi’s in Frith Street with Julia Nash, an editor at Heinemann. We talk over Al’s Rue Britannia, which she read. Although she didn’t feel it had enough story development to make