Historic episodes and deep-well characters take on a noble patina of time and place, of myth and legen... bah. Bah to that. None of that happens in "Monty Python's Spamalot," the patina bit, the myth, the good-and-true quests of textbook heroes. There is, however, a lot of extreme, flagrant, off the castle-wall silliness, a bunch of rousing, "what-ho!" songs, and a few marvelously ridiculous people wearing crowns and waving swords that are highly suspect.
Oh, and nefarious bunnies on the prowl. Very, very nasty, those things.
We've talked about the opening-night free-ticket stand-by line. We discussed the spam tacos served up at the Music Center the day tickets went on sale last spring. What's left to say could fill a moat, but we'll wrap it up quickly so you can turn your own clip-clopping coconut shells for The Ahmanson Theatre:
1) John O'Hurley as King Arthur. That dead-pan-y delivery should make the ungleefuliest person think twice about acting sour.
2) Eric Idle. Songwriter extraordinaire, a man who could probably, at long last, find a word that rhymes with orange. He could turn this post into a ditty, we bet. Or a list of zip codes around Northern Florida into a rock opera.
3) Everything else. Everything. The accolades the big, wow-'em spectacular received in New York and Vegas, the castle-quirky setting, the Lady of the Lake, Lancelot, fighting, jesting, jousting, lads, ladies, the Holy Grail.
