Review
Comedy
Culture
Film & TV
7 min read

When I watched Life of Brian with my teenage kids…

The universe is still not making sense.

James is a writer of sit coms for TV and radio.

A movie still shows a Roman amphitheatre, covered in body parts, over which a sign reads 'children's matinee'.
Saturday morning at the amphitheatre.
Hand Made Films.

Over the Christmas holidays, I decided it was time to watch Monty Python’s Life of Brian with my teenagers. This was not just because I found it in a charity shop on DVD for a pound, although that may have had something to do with it. And so, what if I did wrap it up and put it under the Christmas tree along with Monty Python and the Holy Grail

Let’s focus on the real question here: what was it like watching this much-loved but controversial movie from 1979 in early 2025? And what would my church-going, Bible reading, Gen Z teenagers make of it? 

This movie was not entirely new to them. I’d already shown them one of the finest sketches you will ever see, in which Brian has to learn to haggle for a beard whilst on the run. I’d also shown them ‘Romani Ire Domus’ sketch as I was teaching them Latin as part of their home education. I told them to expect more brilliant sketches like this, but that the movie is essentially “a bag of bits”. And that the ending is a disaster. More of that later. 

Here are some of their reactions: 

“Wow! This is soooooo Horrible Histories.” 

It was. And it was even more resonant when we watched Monty Python and The Holy Grail. This is not a criticism. After all, who doesn’t love Horrible Histories? Especially the first cast who went off and made a truly brilliantly funny movie you probably haven’t seen about William Shakespeare called Bill. I think we’ve seen it as a family at least eight times. But they could see the legacy of Monty Python fifty years on. 

“What’s with that bit with the space craft?” 

I don’t know. Maybe they had to find something for Terry Gilliam to do. 

“Why are you fast forwarding that bit?” 

The movie contains unnecessary and tawdry nudity. As a parent, I reserve the right to censor the movies my children watch. 

“Is that it?” 

The movie is admirably brief at 93 minutes. My kids were just startled by the fact that the movie ended, without an ending. I’d prepared for them for this. After all, Bill has a proper beginning, middle and end. (Seriously. It’s great. Watch it) My kids have watched a lot of Pixar movies which are normally honed to plot perfection (with the exception of Soul which is a plot hot mess. And, as a jazz fan, I really wanted to love that movie.) 

The ending of Life of Brian is poor, by any measure. It’s not just the fact that the crucifixion scene makes light of something savagely sad and sacred. It’s more that the movie ends with Brian abandoned to his fate on a cross while Eric Idle sings the cheerfully stoic Always Look on the Bright Side of Life while they all bake under the hot sun. And that’s it. The movie is over. 

It’s slightly better than the non-ending of Monty Python and the Holy Grail, which comes clattering to a halt after the allotted time. I read somewhere that there simply wasn’t any money to do anything else. Clearly, Life of Brian, a few years later, had a bigger budget so there was at least an attempt at an ending. But a song, even a good song, doth not an ending make. 

The song’s chirpiness belies the brilliance of it. With some neat rhymes and a simple, singable hook, the song achieves exactly what it sets out to achieve: stoic reassurance and an encouragement to put a brave face on things. It’s a funny contrast given they’re all being crucified, albeit in a comical pain-free way without nails and blood. 

We shouldn’t be surprised that this is a message coming from relatively young men who’ve had a good education, been lauded as great comedians and made a lot of money. And still have their whole lives ahead of them in 1979 (although Graham Chapman died ten years later aged 49.) The fact the Pythons have nothing to say about life, death, suffering, pain, betrayal, the universe or anything isn’t their fault. Nor should we look to such sketch comedians for profound insights about the human condition. 

How I felt 

Here's how I felt as I watched Brian grasp the absurd injustice of his fate on a cross in the closing scene: I sensed the spirit of Douglas Adams, writer of Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy. The first series was broadcast on BBC Radio in 1978, the year that Life of Brian was being filmed in Tunisia. Adams writes about a universe that feels like it should make sense. But it doesn’t. It feels like there should be justice. But there isn’t. Which is funny. But also a bit sad. 

The protagonist, Arthur Dent, is like Brian: a victim of circumstance, pushed from pillar to post by idiots and monsters. Ford Prefect constantly explaining the plot while Arthur Dent is dragged along, persisting with a middle-class simmering indignation that seems to last into eternity. But then, it’s a sitcom, so it’s not supposed to end. 

A movie is a different proposition. We do not need to get bogged down with talk about the ‘hero’s journey’ for long but by the end of Life of Brian, our hero is only halfway through his quest. He has crossed the threshold by joining the People’s Front of Judea. But then what? He becomes disenchanted and realises he is going to have let go of something in order to grow and move on. But he doesn’t. He’s tied to a cross, abandoned and left for dead. 

What other ending could there have been? I did have one idea. That Jesus, who is also in the movie, raises him from the dead. Brian says thank you, decides against becoming a disciple and makes a living as a cheesemaker. It’s a funny call-back, but still not satisfying, is it? 

The problem is that Brian doesn’t have any true desires deep down. He doesn’t have a quest. That’s because this movie started life as a parody of Jesus, whose story its own natural beginning, middle and surprising but satisfying end. But the Pythons found that the life of Christ is rather compelling and challenging when you take the time to read what he actually said and did, so the focus shifted. What if Brian were mistaken for a messiah? The target became a mistaken identity comedy about organised religion. 

Looking Back 

46 years later, does Life of Brian still feel like searing satire on organised religion? Not really. Brian is not mistaken for the Messiah until almost 50 minutes in. The movie is more than half over. There are religious themes and sketches before that point, such as the scene in which the blasphemer is to be stoned (by women in beards), the ex-leper beggar healed by Jesus “without so much as a ‘by your leave’!”. 

Brian only starts preaching to avoid being noticed by the soldiers. A crowd gathers and we’re into the ‘consider the lilies’ sketch, which I’ve always found funny. (And I never felt this was threatening or undermining the original version spoken by Christ himself, although I think of it every time it’s read aloud in church). 

And then, the movie turns. Once the soldiers have gone, Brian stops talking. But this leaves the small crowd on a cliffhanger. They are now hanging on his every word. As he tries to get away, they turn his gourd and sandal into relics. He runs, but is found. We get the “very naughty boy” line, Brian addresses a crowd  in the ‘you are all individuals’ sketch. Soon afterwards he’s arrested, and that’s the end of that. The religious themes fall away. It is hardly a coruscating broadside salvo on organised religion, although I understand why it might have felt like that at the time. 

Watching it now when religion has declined for a further 45 years since 1979, the blows do not really land as they may have done at the time. This places further pressure on the ending which does not deliver as it was never intended to. 

But seeing the chipper, upbeat stoicism at the end through the eyes of my kids was really interesting. They know that Disney and Pixar and now Disney Pixar have been trying to tell kids for decades that you should ‘believe in yourself’. They are rightly sceptical about messages of self-belief. So, it’s quite strange to see a movie with a religious theme end with song and a whistle and the idea that you don’t need to believe in anything at all. But that you should smile anyway. 

What a curious conclusion. The fact that it felt so strange in 2025 might suggest that the British optimism in the face of death and injustice isn’t really good enough anymore.  Maybe this will encourage us to go back to the original. After all ‘Blessed are the Cheesemakers’ is only funny if you know want what Jesus actually said at the Sermon on the Mount. Maybe a new generation will want to take the time to read what he actually said and did.

Join with us - Behind the Seen

Seen & Unseen is free for everyone and is made possible through the generosity of our amazing community of supporters.

If you’re enjoying Seen & Unseen, would you consider making a gift towards our work?

Alongside other benefits (book discounts etc.), you’ll receive an extra fortnightly email from me sharing what I’m reading and my reflections on the ideas that are shaping our times.

Graham Tomlin

Editor-in-Chief

Article
Attention
Culture
Digital
Fashion
5 min read

Meet London’s newest theologian – the Real Housewives of Clapton

The starter kits that kick-start the study of our souls.
A woman looks at her phone, behind her is a montage of memes

How might an Instagram account summarise someone who’s a proficient user of Lime bikes, a lover of ‘natty wine,’ and has an affinity for small plates?  

Sure, a particular East London ‘creative’ type probably came to mind. And you’d be right. However, perhaps there’s something more to all that social media signalling - a gesture toward late-stage capitalism, the ethical, the bourgeoisie, the material, or, dare I say, the spiritual

Great religious texts are lived before they are written, and the prominent Instagram account Real Housewives of Clapton intuitively inscribes our new scriptures. (With Hanna Crosbie as its prophet. Along with Socks House Meeting and Dalston Super Stoned.) However, these new scriptures are not written on sacred scrolls but on digital tablets: memes.  

Real Housewives of Clapton help us to see the vestments East Londoners are adorned with (new converts should begin with an Acne scarf), the pilgrimage sites to be walked (Broadway Market in Salomons), and the sacred meals one should partake of (rotisserie chicken is in vogue, but Jolene Newington Green is the cathedral). Nevertheless, young Londoners (like the rest of the Western world) are increasingly becoming more religious, not least Christian. As Lauren Westwood and Graham Tomlin discuss. But does all this newfound fervour always come leaping into traditional religion? I’m still not sure. 

Ditching the poetic-spiritual contours of sacred writing for the potency of Microsoft Word ‘fancy’ text hastily pasted over stock images, Real Housewives of Clapton is delivering our new scriptures en masse, on pace with the changing of trends themselves. While memes are a longitudinal study nightmare for distilling emergent truths, they are great way to laugh whilst on the toilet. And the consumers of these LOLs? Those involved in the sub-culture themselves. It's post often generate tens of thousands of likes.

Real Housewives of Clapton articulates the aesthetics of our contemporary religiosity as it manifests in the everyday - so much so that religious attire re-emerges as a genuinely distinct perception of ‘East London’ attire, see the post below.. Religion is that term used to describe a community’s ritual, aesthetic, holy scriptures, sacred sites, and understanding of the Divine and how this relates to humanity.  

A screen grab of a message thread.

 

Precisely because the projected identities these East London meme-dealers expose are entangled with a self-awareness for the ethical, it naturally gravitates toward the religious. To consider the aesthetics of ethics is to delve into theology. To meander on the aesthetics of a subculture in this way, then, is to be a theologian. The creators behind Real Housewives of Clapton are East London’s Rowan Williams (the 104th Archbishop of Canterbury, not the actor), Germany’s Dietrich Bonhoeffer, or Medieval Europe’s Hildegard of Bingen. They’re reading the signs of the time and distilling it into potent visual metaphors. 

So, what might we see if we were to read the memes of Real Housewives as theologians? Well, perhaps we can trace an eschatology (a fancy word for discussing the End Times). 

The East London world is your oyster, but only insofar as it’s captured. And it needs to be a captured reality shared online so that we can feel seen.

In heightening our awareness of and orienting the sub-culture around “little things”—small plates, chippies, situationships, drinks, vitamin D—East Londoners are highly aware of the particulars of creation and how they can be in service to a more satisfactory existence.  

A few months ago, Real Housewives shared this meme about running. Everyone knows someone who joined a run club in recent months; sharing the run map has become a “flex” on your friends (becoming a national security threat in the USA). Yet, the account contextualises this with the phrase, ‘after not posting anything for 9 months.’ There is, undergirding East London, particularly for men it seems, the felt need to maintain an air of nonchalance, aloofness, or, indeed, mystery. 

A screen grab of a content creation meme.

 

Arguably, this nonchalance is from the same guy on Broadway market who ghosted you after the fifth date. Or, as appears every public holiday, the mysteriously unemployed DJ acquaintance who, via his close friends' list, is at his parents’ holiday home in Dorset. 

Nevertheless, the account shared another meme a month later, see below, signalling something deeper. The identity of distance or mysterion is undercut by a more potent insight: we are obsessed with projecting our identities. Taking this to its logical absurdity, Real Housewives contrasts the purchase of a £1.29 Twix with the nostalgia of an off-licence. The East London world is your oyster, but only insofar as it’s captured. And it needs to be a captured reality shared online so that we can feel seen

A screen grab of a content creation meme.

 

Participating in this religion includes evangelism through one’s online identity. But, in contrast to popular streams of culture, this aesthetic and its symbolic world only makes sense for those who live in East London. In other words, the Cult of East London doesn’t find its attraction because you might get global stardom. Instead, partaking in this particular cultural aesthetic signals to those you meet on Dalston High Street that you understand them and, hopefully, they might understand you. 

Converging across both “social media mystery boy” and its always-online antithesis is the undergirding desire for our projected identity to be known. 

As this meme about the sun coming out reveals, behind its comedic options—a designer jacket, spritz and ciggie, or the London sun—is a more dormant reality: we need all three.  

A screen grab of a fashion choice meme.

 

A Freudian reading might interpret the designer jacket as the need for physical touch, the spritz as a plea for community, and the London sun as the need for God—the cult of Sol Invictus, perhaps. Maybe. Or, in a theological key, through the triangulation of branded cohesivity, a little drink, and the bodily calmness to feel as though we can finally close our eyes, we might actually find peace. 

The garments Real Housewives self-abasingly propagates suggest that the spiritual lives of East Londoners are genuinely concerned with ethics. In aversion to fast fashion, we wear things that promote our being seen beyond a glance. This held-gaze has both to do with the self and the plea for us to look more seriously at the world we find ourselves in. This shift toward a more substantive looking subtly nods to an eschatology of peace. 

The spiritual lives of East Londoners gravitate toward a longing for peace that is temporally filled with ethically just choices but is embodied unseriously. We laugh with and double-tap The Real Housewives of Clapton’s memes because we know this identity won’t save us. But spending one afternoon in London Fields wearing an iconic fit amidst the blazing British sun might just give us a taste of eternal serenity. 

Celebrate our 2nd birthday!

Since Spring 2023, our readers have enjoyed over 1,000 articles. All for free. 
This is made possible through the generosity of our amazing community of supporters.

If you enjoy Seen & Unseen, would you consider making a gift towards our work?

Do so by joining Behind The Seen. Alongside other benefits, you’ll receive an extra fortnightly email from me sharing my reading and reflections on the ideas that are shaping our times.

Graham Tomlin
Editor-in-Chief