sábado, 5 de enero de 2008

El funeral Graham Chapman

Graham Chapman fue uno de los integrantes del genial grupo de cómicos Monty Python. De entre sus películas destaca especialmente "La vida de Brian" que es una parodia de la vida de Jesús, mediante la vida paralela de Brian, que nace a la vez que él. El final de la película, termina Brian crucificado en la cruz cantando junto con el resto de los condenados "Always look on the bright side of life" (Mira siempre el lado positivo de la vida). Es sin duda una obra maestra.
Fue la primera persona en decir "Mierda" (Shit) en la censurada televisión inglesa.

Grahan Chapman murió en el 89 y Jhon Cleese, otro Monty Python preparó este discurso para el día de su funeral. Hay parte traducida y otra que no, pero detrás os dejo el resto del discurso en inglés.




Resto del discurso de Cleese (en inglés): You see, the trouble is, I can't. If he were here with me now I would probably have the courage, because he always emboldened me. But the truth is, I lack his balls, his splendid defiance. And so I'll have to content myself instead with saying 'Betty Mardsen...'

But bolder and less inhibited spirits than me follow today. Jones and Idle, Gilliam and Palin. Heaven knows what the next hour will bring in Graham's name. Trousers dropping, blasphemers on pogo sticks, spectacular displays of high-speed farting, synchronised incest. One of the four is planning to stuff a dead ocelot and a 1922 Remington typewriter up his own arse to the sound of the second movement of Elgar's cello concerto. And that's in the first half.

Because you see, Gray would have wanted it this way. Really. Anything for him but mindless good taste. And that's what I'll always remember about him—apart, of course, from his Olympian extravagance. He was the prince of bad taste. He loved to shock. In fact, Gray, more than anyone I knew, embodied and symbolised all that was most offensive and juvenile in Monty Python. And his delight in shocking people led him on to greater and greater feats. I like to think of him as the pioneering beacon that beat the path along which fainter spirits could follow.

Some memories. I remember writing the undertaker speech with him, and him suggesting the punch line, 'All right, we'll eat her, but if you feel bad about it afterwards, we'll dig a grave and you can throw up into it.' I remember discovering in 1969, when we wrote every day at the flat where Connie Booth and I lived, that he'd recently discovered the game of printing four-letter words on neat little squares of paper, and then quietly placing them at strategic points around our flat, forcing Connie and me into frantic last minute paper chases whenever we were expecting important guests.

I remember him at BBC parties crawling around on all fours, rubbing himself affectionately against the legs of gray-suited executives, and delicately nibbling the more appetizing female calves. Mrs. Eric Morecambe remembers that too.

I remember his being invited to speak at the Oxford union, and entering the chamber dressed as a carrot—a full length orange tapering costume with a large, bright green sprig as a hat—-and then, when his turn came to speak, refusing to do so. He just stood there, literally speechless, for twenty minutes, smiling beatifically. The only time in world history that a totally silent man has succeeded in inciting a riot.

I remember Graham receiving a Sun newspaper TV award from Reggie Maudling. Who else! And taking the trophy falling to the ground and crawling all the way back to his table, screaming loudly, as loudly as he could. And if you remember Gray, that was very loud indeed.

It is magnificent, isn't it? You see, the thing about shock... is not that it upsets some people, I think; I think that it gives others a momentary joy of liberation, as we realised in that instant that the social rules that constrict our lives so terribly are not actually very important.

Well, Gray can't do that for us anymore. He's gone. He is an ex-Chapman. All we have of him now is our memories. But it will be some time before they fade.

Ay! supongo que es otra forma como cualquiera de despedir a alguien ¿no? (los hay que aplauden) Pues si pudiese decidir o elegir como sería mi funeral, me gustaría que fuese algo así.

1 comentario:

Lunática dijo...

Espero no tener que asistir nunca a tu funeral! :-S
Pero nos lo apuntamos, por si acaso... Aún así deberías plantearte dejar de pensar en tu propia muerte...
El post muy gracioso, me he reído mucho. Estos tíos son geniales!
Y a por ello con los exámenes! Ya sabes que aquí me tienes para lo que sea, apuntes, resúmenes, ánimos...
Un besote, Pape!