The mere existence of a Python reunion after all this time is worth celebrating, and I can't say it wasn't cool to see the surviving members side-by-side on that stage, but the ensuing performance left a lot to be desired. Despite all efforts to imply the opposite, this largely felt like a troupe of rusty old-timers stammering their way through the material of their youth, minus the power, sincerity and resounding cultural relevance of their heyday. I snickered with some regularity, but that was mostly due to long-term appreciation rather than of-the-moment admiration. The whole show felt too polished and jazzy, a billion-dollar spit shine that stood at-odds with the quaint, elbow-greased character I'd grown to know and love. Dozens of forced, sharply unfunny dance sets padded out each costume change - of which there were many - and seemed to annoy even the cast members, who varied in mood from ecstatic (Terry Gilliam) to barely-bothered (John Cleese). The show wheeled out all the right skits, but the funniest bits were when the actors would flub a line and go off-script to needle each other. Disappointing.