A Liar's Autobiography: The Untrue Story of Monty Python's Graham Chapman Reviews

Adapted from the late British comic’s notoriously false memoir, A Liar’s Autobiography: The Untrue Story of Monty Python’s Graham Chapman is an ambitious animated undertaking built on a foundation of recordings made shortly before Chapman succumbed to cancer in late 1989. But whether it’s the result of the original author’s own penchant for whimsy or the filmmakers growing a bit too self-enamored, A Liar’s Autobiography has the distinctive feel of a lesser comic talent attempting -- and failing -- to re-create the genius of a true giant despite the occasional flash of inspiration. Beginning with the author’s earliest memories, 15 teams of animators construct a colorful and frequently surreal trip into Chapman’s mind, but unfortunately A Liar’s Autobiography becomes more about the animator’s interpretation of the artist’s words than the subject himself. Given that even the title of the film boldly proclaims the content to be “Untrue,” it sometimes becomes difficult for the casual fan to discern where the facts cease and the embellishments begin. Given the author’s sharp sense of satire, this is indeed a great concept for an autobiography. But while the film adaptation does rely heavily on Chapman’s own narration to tell the story, the presence of an added party -- the animators -- muddies the waters a bit too much, and the constant, dizzying shifts in styles gradually grow more cumbersome than capricious. Even so, it’s difficult to outright dismiss A Liar’s Autobiography -- not only because it so playfully reflects Terry Gilliam’s vivid animated interludes from the original series, but also because it features vocal works by many of the surviving Python members, and approaches the more serious aspects of Chapman’s life (his homosexuality and struggle with alcoholism in particular) with a sense of irreverence that’s indicative of the author’s true nature, without sacrificing compassion. We laugh as Chapman embarks on a reckless bender, takes a female fan back to his hotel room under the pretense of letting her mother use the phone, then gets the girl into his bed for a vigorous round of lovemaking, but at the same time we sense the loneliness that’s driven him to such meaningless encounters thanks to the filmmakers’ skillful use of narration. Given the film’s episodic nature, however, such poignant moments are fleeting in A Liar’s Autobiography, the balance continually shifting back to the arbitrary whenever the film approaches substantial material. Again, while this is pointedly the result of the author’s own construct, it frequently comes off as a cheap imitation when filtered through the lens of an added party (or, in this case, 15 additional parties). It’s tough to say goodbye to our heroes, but A Liar’s Autobiography serves as proof that while accepting their mortality may be difficult (especially when they’re taken so young), attempting to imitate their style reveals more about us than it does the one we so admired. A Liar’s Autobiography is a cinematic love letter to one of the great 20th century comics constructed by a group of animators with undeniable talent, but too often it feels like a mere echo of Chapman’s genius, rather than a heartfelt tribute to it.