The six young men who created Monty Python's Flying Circus in 1969 produced a comic style that was inventive, extraordinarily literate and wonderfully lunatic, one of the most dazzling of the 20th century.

Much of that inspired zaniness is apparent in "Monty Python's Spamalot," an adaptation by Eric Idle and John Du Prez of the 1975 movie "Monty Python and the Holy Grail."

I became a Pythonmaniac in 1972 when I heard "The Death of Mary, Queen of Scots," the sketch than ends with an exploding penguin. If my enthusiasm for the stage version of their work is limited, it's not because I don't get their humor.

Perhaps if I didn't know their sketches by heart, I might have been more charmed by this incarnation. So if you have no idea what the significance of a killer rabbit is, you might enjoy it more.

It is amazing that Mike Nichols, who directed the production, and his crew have found so many ways to create stage approximations of what was clearly conceived for film - even, astonishingly, the bloody duel with the Black Knight, who refuses to stop fighting when he has lost his arms and legs.

But all too often I was reminded of "Mamma Mia!" - the Python fans around me greeted familiar routines the way the "Mamma Mia!" audience laughed when it recognized the ABBA songs in their new context.

This kind of "recycling" encourages the audience to congratulate itself for what it already knows, rather than experience anything fresh. (Maybe that's not a bad thing, since "Mamma Mia!" is likely the most successful musical in theater history.)

Moreover, although the dialogue from the movie (like a debate about the ability of a swallow to carry a coconut, or the taunting of the nasty French person) remains delicious, the new material is less impressive - especially the songs, with lyrics by Idle and music by Idle and John Du Prez.

In the second act, for example, The Knights Who Say Ni demand that King Arthur and his followers write a musical and take it to Broadway.

The numbers that follow seem like sketches for "Forbidden Broadway," though not as sharp. In some cases, they even seem like tepid echoes of "The Producers."

One of the things that set the Pythons apart was the rhythm of their shows. One sketch dovetailed loopily into another. Sometimes a sketch would stop dead in its tracks, be interrupted by something "completely different" and then resume. This might have been attempted here.

Still, the cast, under Nichols' direction, performs its tasks with endearing gusto. Tim Curry has a jolly time as King Arthur. David Hyde Pierce plays several parts splendidly and is at his most droll as he listens nervously to Christian Borle singing about his impending heroism.

Hank Azaria is oddly endearing in his various roles, even as the sneering Frenchman. "Forbidden Broadway" alumnus Michael McGrath handles everything with expected aplomb, and Christopher Sieber is genuinely heroic as Sir Dennis Galahad and others.

Sara Ramirez is smashing as the Lady of the Lake, especially in a song complaining about the size of her role.

Tim Hatley's set and costume designs capture the special wit of Terry Gilliam's animated drawings, which did so much to define the Python aura. Hugh Vanstone's lighting enhances the comedy.

I could admire all the affection and ingenuity that went into adapting "Spamalot" to the stage as well as the Herculean energy the cast puts into it.

I only wish I had laughed more.

Originally published on March 18, 2005