Terry Gilliam’s name means any number of things to television and film aficionados. For some, it signifies the acclaimed director of films like Brazil or The Fisher King. Others think of Arthur’s beloved squire Patsy in Monty Python and the Holy Grail. But for hardcore fans, Gilliam is known as the brilliant, bizarre animator who was with the Monty Python troupe since the beginning. Here, in honor of the 25th anniversary of his ridiculous romp Time Bandits, are five of Gilliam’s animations heralding back to the early days that show his cartooning genius.
Dancing Acrobatic Men: Two acrobats give a memorable show in a way you wouldn’t expect
Two acrobatic men give the show a lifetime, with the figures switching legs, torsos, and duplicate themselves. This was a testament to Gilliam’s clear finesse—while the animation starts out simple, Gilliam shows his prowess by being able to trick the mind with his clever duplicates of the same cutouts. Another key point to animations similar to this is the specific style of figure cutout. Gilliam has said that we wanted to give his animations a look that mirrored either art figures (such as Venus) or old-times magazine pictures.
Catzilla: The terror of England
With Hell’s Grannies on the loose, you wouldn’t think the Pythons could come up with anything more terrifying, right? Yet Gilliam is always brilliant with taking the normal and turning it into lunacy, as in the animation in “Killer Cars,” which shows a not-so-simple house cat wreaking havoc by swallowing buildings whole. (Longcat, anyone?) The cat was, in its way, the original Catzilla, and has sparked a number of variations of the glorious meme on the Internet. It’s certainly more terrifying that Bryan Cranston’s Godzilla.
TV Is Bad for Your Eyes: When television damages eyesight…physically
This particular animation is unique within the context of Monty Python because it actually has a punchline. Many of the Pythons said that their goal was to not have a conventional joke format, and they have even noted that if there wasn’t a strong way to end the sketch, they would just end it by having , say, an anvil drop on a person’s head. Many of Gilliam’s animations led into sketches, which is why it was unique when one shows itself to have a self-contained joke. This piece is well-structured and the payoff hilarious, as Gilliam uses a number of creative ways to show the eyes being “hurt” the by the television.
The Food Chain: That ’70s temperament, that ’70s faux pas
As much as the Pythons are revered, it would be egregious to glaze over their incredibly politically incorrect humor. In this particular animation, the Gilliam satirizes the political landscape of the early 1970s. A Chinese, Russian, and British fish take turns swallowing one another whole while proclaiming they are the strongest of all. It’s not the most PC of jokes, which is certainly in character—the Pythons were never shy about confronting controversial subjects. Their brazen disregard for conventions perhaps peaked with The Life of Brian, which was banned in parts of the U.K. when it came out. (Michael Palin and John Cleese even defended their work against Malcolm Muggeridge and Mervyn Stockwood on live television as a result.)
I Confess: There’s no way to catch a break
This animation is pure silliness, which is the gist of what the bulk of the Python ouevre was about. A good deal of Gilliam’s animation work served as filler, so the troupe could meet the time limit for television broadcasts. Fortunately, Gilliam’s filler was sometimes the best part of the show. This tangent focuses on men making confessions, and what do they get? The chair taken away from under them and their heads popped right off. It’s so simplistic that it makes one yearn for a judicial system that operates so cleanly and with such. If only we could pull the chair out from under Donald Trump.
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