‘Spamalot’ Seats Elusive As ‘Grail’

A common trend among new musicals is a by-the-books run-through of all the dramatic conventions of what audiences expect out of musical theater, and nothing more. You have the standard big dance numbers, the corny dialogue, the old-fashioned tongue-in-cheek Broadway humor. This almost maniacal dedication to what is least likely to surprise, confuse, or offend passes as a celebration of tradition at best; at worst, it becomes a tired, nauseating series of in-jokes.

No matter what arguments writers, producers, and directors come up with to stick to such “cult of theater” elements, it’s become increasingly clear that these tropes are not being included for their own merit, but to cover something else—mediocrity. So when the rare show comes along that aspires to break through the familiar mold, it’s usually a welcome surprise.

“Spamalot”—the musical adaptation of the 1975 classic comedy film “Monty Python & The Holy Grail”—has been and still is certainly welcome, if not quite that surprising. “Spamalot” premiered in Chicago and New York in late 2004 and early 2005, respectively, and since then, it has enjoyed tremendous financial success under the direction of the legendary Mike Nichols, who has achieved great renown as the director of “The Graduate,” but whose eight Tony Awards garner far less attention. This season, it embarks on a national tour, and its first stop is Boston’s Colonial Theater on 106 Boylston Street.

When I saw this show in New York, it boasted Tim Curry (“Rocky Horror Picture Show”) as King Arthur, Hank Azaria (“The Simpsons”) as the bloodthirsty Sir Lancelot, and the Broadway superstar Sara Ramirez as the Lady of the Lake. I dare not go over all of the classic routines from the movie which have been adapted into film, jokes which I have had memorized for upwards of ten years and which would be far too dorky to repeat here.

Suffice it to say that the lesser-known Michael Siberry (as King Arthur), Richard Holmes (Lancelot), and Pia Glenn (Lady of the Lake) carry on the coconut-smashing, French-bashing, killer-rabbit-avoiding tradition of old.

If there is a single big-production, high-profile show to be seen in Boston this season, it is certainly “Spamalot.” It’s everything one expects it to be and a little bit more, boasting better songwriting than most contemporary musicals and, of course, the timeless appeal of jokes that are simultaneously completely absurd and carefully crafted—the trademark of any Python fare.

Yet “Spamalot” is still a difficult show to sell to college students, who—though they might be able to recite lines from “Grail” word for word—likely lack the princely sums or insider connections required to get tickets to a show that sold out months ago.

Given such barriers, the question of why Harvard audiences should even care about the musical requires an answer that speaks to something the show itself. The most obvious one is that “Spamalot”—while containing subversive numbers like “The Song Goes Like This,” a parody of the cliché-riddled spectacles discussed above—has also become the standard for musical theater right now. The show has certainly garnered more commercial success—and possibly more critical success—than any since “The Producers,” making it a permanent part of the legacy of an art form whose progress is largely dictated by public opinion.

While it’s unlikely that we’ll see another film based on this musical, it is certain that “The Song That Goes Like This” and the 15-minute Camelot dance extravaganza have entered into the pantheon of contemporary musical theater.

And if following others’ leads must be the way in rigidly traditional Broadway, one can only hope that, rather than falling into the lackluster conventions of old, more shows begin to look towards “Spamalot,” with its unique balance of the old and the new, the traditional and the striking.

—Staff writer J. Samuel Abbott can be reached at abbott@fas.harvard.edu.