A scene from A LIAR’S AUTOBIOGRAPHY (Epix/Brainstorm Media)

Before seeing A Liar’s Autobiography: The Untrue Story of Monty Python’s Graham Chapman, I knew some facts and details about performer Chapman’s working relationship with the comedy group. (Chapman died of cancer in 1989.) He was usually described as an alcoholic, gay, and a brilliant comedian and writer—when he wasn’t distracted by his drinking—who was surrounded by the cult of celebrity even though he was an outsider.

Fodder for a movie? You bet. But not just any old movie, oh, good heavens, no. This work, co-directed by Python-alumni Terry Jones’ son Bill, takes on the Python aesthetic—sorta. It’s a freewheeling look at Chapman’s life, told through voice-over narration by Chapman (who recorded audio for his autobiography), with more than a dozen different animation styles. Take your pick: there is stop-motion, bad CGI, or computer-animation made to look like hand drawn.

This might be the film’s draw, but it’s also an issue. Some of the animation is pleasurable and cool to look at, even endearing in its crudeness: a group of monkeys made up to look and sound like Monty Python (minus Eric Idle, who isn’t a part of the film). But such a mix and match of styles doesn’t always pay off, not when one style seems to be working before the film jarringly cuts to another. To get a sense of it, make sure to watch the trailer, which gives a good indication as to what the filmmakers intend: total madness.

Except it’s still a biopic, and only somewhat captivating. Chapman was born to traditionally aloof parents, the kind that, in one very funny scene, spend their vacation arguing in a car about what fish to buy. Not too far into his adolescence, he discovered that he favored boys to girls, figuring out the percentage based on watching people (about 30 percent girls and 70 percent boys). And for much of his life he had a boyfriend—when Chapman wasn’t off sleeping with almost any woman that came his way once he was famous.

He went to Cambridge and got into comedy with John Cleese, the first (future) Python he met. One of the highlights is when Chapman and Cleese, hired by David Frost for The Frost Report, go off to Spain to write, but they spend most of their time on a bicycle built for two, putting off their assignment to procrastinate, drink, and take in Spanish sights. This sequence, animated in a wonderful, not-quite-but-almost Terry Gilliam cut-out animation, is filled with such dry humor that one wishes the film had more of it.

How exactly Chapman got off drinking, if ever, is kind of brushed over as the story covers his rise as a celebrity and his problems hobnobbing with other stars that he talks about in a therapy session (not with Freud, though he does pop up. Freud is voiced by Cameron Diaz—’cause why not?). Despite the myriad of inconsistent animation, A Liar’s Autobiography is funny, candid, and even heart-warming when Chapman speaks fondly about his true love, David (who has a fairly prominent role ), but a little more about Python and less erratic animation would have made it fantastic.