It didn't register until the DVD arrived that years before I had actually witnessed a version of Monty Python's Graham Chapman: Looks Like a Brown Trouser Job firsthand. As a 14-year-old Python fanatic, I went to see Graham Chapman speak in Toronto on the same college lecture tour that Rykodisc has dug out of the vaults, and I remember my adolescent mind finding it both completely scintillating and just a bit naughty. Of course, time, maturity, and the accumulation of knowledge have dulled what was once the outer limits of teenage imagination, so my second go-round was a bittersweet measuring of the distance between the enthusiastic fanboy I was then and the more even-tempered individual I am now. How much you get out of it depends on how deep into the cult of Python you are: die-hards will find it totally indispensable; more distant admirers will find it reasonably amusing; and unbelievers will feel left out in the cold.

Chapman's final speaking engagements before his death from throat cancer in 1989 prove him a master of withering understatement. Beginning with his adventures in the Dangerous Sports Club, he depicts himself as being caught in the eye of the storm but clearly had to be a consenting participant: although everything the DSC does (including hang-gliding over active volcanoes) is entirely ill-advised, Chapman soon finds himself skiing down a St. Moritz slope in a wooden gondola with a man described as "the definition of inbred." Speaking of which, he has similarly restrained amazement at pal/The Who drummer Keith Moon: having seen the late legend burgle an adjacent apartment to snag Chapman a bottle of gin, his only response is "now there's a friend." Nothing is too big or too outrageous for Chapman to reduce to comedy.

The unfortunate problem with this tactic is that it distances the subject from the audience. Once he starts talking about something serious, such as the realization of his alcoholism on the set of Monty Python and the Holy Grail, he immediately makes it seem like no big deal, diminishing not only its comic impact but also its worth as a topic of discussion. While his lack of self-pity is commendable, it leads to a lack of affect that keeps you outside of whatever he's describing. Too, some of Chapman's material is slightly strained, such as an audience-participation bit involving the old coin/ass/milk-bottle game and a disappointingly vague explication of Life of Brian's "think for yourself" message. That the audience applauded self-righteously for that last bit, as it did for every single mention of a Python skit, goes a long way towards illustrating the problems of uncritical adoration, i.e. not thinking for yourself.

But those of us with residual love for Python have much to enjoy here. Though Chapman can be fuzzy about external issues, he's fairly comprehensive on the subject of his origins, chronicling his journey from med-school student to sketch writer to comedy legend in brief but evocative gestures. He's also completely unsentimental when recounting his misadventures with colleagues, explaining how adept analytical John Cleese could be at pushing emotional Terry Jones' buttons and expressing his annoyance at Terry Gilliam's inflating of the budget--in addition to the size of his segment--for Monty Python's The Meaning of Life. It's here that Chapman's emotional distance works, because it allows him the opportunity to criticize his peers without demolishing their images for fans--showing Chapman to be generous as well as understated. He may not come off as brilliant, but he never looks like a vitriolic jerk.

Unfortunately for videophiles, the two sources Ryko has combined into Looks Like a Brown Trouser Job betray their age. Shot well before the digital age on what appears to be consumer equipment, the video looks fuzzy and indistinct when not bedevilled by flares, shakiness, or ominous black shadowing. The keepcase assures us that they've taken the original elements as far as they can go, but don't expect miracles with this fullscreen transfer. Lacking in sharpness and technical control, the Dolby Digital 2.0 mono soundmix is only slightly better.

Nevertheless, the Chapman fan will find a lot to love with the treasure trove of extras on hand:

Iron Maiden "Can I Play with Madness?" Video (3 mins.)
Chapman assays the role of a teacher on a field trip to a ruined cathedral who falls into an ancient chamber filled with scary things like a monitor showing the aforementioned band. Not terribly interesting in and of itself, it's hilarious to note the clip's cheapness in comparison to the overpriced videos produced nowadays.

Bonus Q&A
Several audience questions that didn't survive the final cut, among them: "Writing Brian" (3 mins.), in which Chapman touches on Eric Idle's initial concept "Jesus Christ: Lust for Glory"; "Gilliam" (4 mins.), in which he offers incomprehension at the animator's saga and disparages his magnum opus Brazil; "Mr. Creosote" (1 min.), in which he describes The Meaning of Life's puke-propelling mechanism and the foul odour of the vomit concoction itself; and "Archdiocese" (1 min.), in which an audience member asks a smartass question that Chapman can't hear.

Solaglas Commercial (1 min.)
A cheap and unimaginative commercial for a glazier featuring Chapman as a Colonel type and a Pepperpot woman.

Catapult (1 min.)
Dangerous sportsman Chapman is flung on elastic cables as part of a charity promotion, maintaining composure while delivering some patter.

Interview Questions - audio only
Three questions of low significance contaminated by background noise besides. "Why Do Lecture Tours?" (1 min.) provokes an anecdote about how a miscommunication turned an introduction into a lecture and gave him the public-speaking bug; "Why Do You Get the Lead in the Movies" (1 min.) elicits a roundabout response concerning his voice and height; and "Are You Really a Doctor?" (1 min.) rewards with the story of Chapman's parents' desire for him to pursue a sensible career. None of the responses are shatteringly informative, and a Gilliam-esque animation of Chapman's mouth moving in time is supremely annoying.

Boxing Day - audio only (4 mins.)
A phoned-in segment on a radio show wherein Chapman reveals the ancient origins of Boxing Day and how they have something to do with slashing your auntie's throat. Forced stuff dragged down further by the interviewer's uninspired questions.

Rounding out the package is a nearly illegible "Chapmanography" detailing the comedian's book, film, and television appearances, plus similarly unintelligible liner notes read aloud by "Legs" Larry Smith of the Bonzo Dog Band.-Travis Mackenzie Hoover