As I mentioned earlier my wheelchair is being repaired so I can’t go out on my daily cruise. Left twiddling my thumbs, I was mucking about on the web earlier; I suddenly thought I’d check out the reviews of Monty Python Live on IMDB, to see what people had said about it. To my surprise, many were quite negative: people hadn’t taken to it at all, and were left cold and unenthusiastic. For instance, one reviewer notes ” Despite all efforts to imply the opposite, this largely felt like a troupe of rusty old-timers stammering their way through the material of their youth, minus the power, sincerity and resounding cultural relevance of their heyday.” That, of course, contrasted very strongly with my impression of it – to me, that show was one of the most wondrous things i’ll ever see.

That mismatch struck me as odd, but then something interesting occurred to me: these reviewers were talking about watching a recording of the show, whereas my impression was interwoven with the memory of actually being there. I was thinking about something I had experienced whereas they were criticising something more akin to a filmic text. While I saw it from one position way back in the audience, they witnessed it close-up from many camera angles – the artistic choice of a director. In effect, we were talking about two different things. An obvious question arose: what if I were to try to rewatch the show as a film? Would I reach the same conclusions the online reviewers did?

I asked Dom to put the DVD in my computer and sat back. I tried to put myself in the shoes of someone who had not been lucky enough to be there that night, and was watching the show as a film. On one level, I saw what these critics mean: as a film it is rather dull. It boils down to five men rehashing material they first performed forty years ago interspersed with dance routines. Looking at it objectively, there was nothing particularly new or novel in the show – not much apart from a few little tweaks and the sketch with Stephen Hawking we had not seen before. It lacked the edginess and audacity which got Python it’s name. Had I not been there on the night, could I be sure I wouldn’t have been just as negative?

Yet that question is not possible to answer. The fact is I was there and, watching the DVD this afternoon, I couldn’t divorce the two experiences. I kept thinking back to that night in 2014, and what I was thinking at certain points in the show. For instance, I initially thought john Cleese had needed prompting during the parrot sketch, but what I couldn’t see from where I was sat was that he broke off because the table in front of him was moving. Hence rewatching it added to my enjoyment, but that joy always referred back and stemmed from the fact I was there to watch it live.

I still count that night as one of the greatest moments of my life: I am so lucky to have been there; to have found this troupe, whose comedy i’ve loved since childhood, suddenly performing on my doorstep. I find that, as well as the luck of having moved to Charlton in time to see them, astonishing. For me the DVD functions as a souvenir of that night – a reminder, rather than a text in itself. It reminds me of the sheer joy I got from being there, surrounded by so many people, watching these men perform sketches I never thought I would see live. There was an aura in there: a deep nostalgia and love which no DVD viewing could ever convey. Just as Keathley describes how the early cinephiles valued certain films because they were rare and hard to obtain, I cherish having seen Python Live because I know it is a unique experience. One can put a DVD on any time you want, so it loses that specialness. Thus while some viewers of the dvd might not be as taken as I was, they have an objectivity I can never share, just as I have a passion they cannot have. Old timers rehashing old material they may have been, but that misses the point: that night was about affection, nostalgia, and something I cannot name. If it is viewed as a film, one could be critical of Monty Python Live; but to me it is a memory, an event – something incredibly special, and far more than a film. I was lucky enough to actually be there, watching these comedy gods bid farewell, and I will always get joy from being able to say that. Yet it interests me to start to analyse how the different modes of reception can effect how one sees the same event,