John Cleese didn’t want a sequel. He’s said it a dozen times in interviews over the decades. But in the mid-90s, the pressure to recapture the lightning-in-a-bottle magic of A Fish Called Wanda was immense. People wanted the gang back together. They wanted Kevin Kline’s manic energy, Jamie Lee Curtis’s sharp wit, and Michael Palin’s endearing vulnerability. What they got was Fierce Creatures, a movie that John Cleese eventually admitted was a bit of a "messy" experience to film.
It wasn't a sequel in the traditional sense. It was what the industry calls a "spiritual successor." Same cast, different characters, entirely different vibe. Instead of a diamond heist, we got a struggling zoo. Instead of Otto shouting about Nietzsche, we got Vince McCain trying to sell sponsorship rights to a lemur.
The Trouble With Following a Masterpiece
When A Fish Called Wanda came out in 1988, it was a global phenomenon. It won an Oscar. It made $188 million on a tiny budget. Naturally, Universal Pictures wanted more. Cleese, being the perfectionist he is, spent years tinkering with the script for Fierce Creatures. He worked with Jim Yoakum and eventually brought in William Goldman—the legendary writer behind The Princess Bride—to help punch it up.
The premise was actually quite clever for its time. It tackled the "corporatization" of everything. A massive conglomerate, Octopus Inc., buys a British zoo and demands a 20% return on investment. The solution? Only "fierce" animals are allowed to stay, because violence sells. It’s a satire of the Murdoch-era media and the ruthless bottom-line thinking of the 90s. Honestly, looking at the state of streaming and media today, it’s arguably more relevant now than it was in 1997.
But the production was a nightmare.
They shot the whole thing. They edited it. Then, they realized it didn't work. The ending was flat. Test audiences were confused. So, they did what every studio fears: they went back for massive reshoots. Not just a few days of pickups, but an entirely new final act. This is where the budget ballooned. By the time it hit theaters, the spontaneity that made Wanda so special felt a little strained.
Why John Cleese Played Two Roles
One of the weirdest decisions in Fierce Creatures was having John Cleese play two parts. He was Rollo Leach, the zoo manager with a heart of gold (sort of), and also the elderly, eccentric billionaire Rod McCain.
It was a bold move. Cleese is a master of physical comedy and distinct character voices—think Monty Python or Fawlty Towers. But playing against himself in a big-budget feature film added a layer of technical complexity that some critics felt slowed the movie down. You've got these long scenes of dialogue between two characters played by the same guy, which requires a lot of "green screen" work and precise timing.
It’s fun to watch Cleese chew the scenery as McCain, but the heart of the movie is Rollo. Rollo is the classic Cleese archetype: the repressed Englishman who finally snaps. He’s trying to hide "cute" animals in his bedroom to save them from being put down, leading to some of the funniest farcical moments in the film. When Jamie Lee Curtis’s character walks in and thinks he’s some kind of sexual deviant because of the animal noises, it's vintage Cleese.
The Michael Palin Factor
We need to talk about Michael Palin. In Wanda, he was the stuttering Ken. In Fierce Creatures, he’s Bugsy, a man who literally cannot stop talking. It’s a brilliant subversion. Palin is naturally one of the most charming people on the planet, and seeing him play a character so annoying that people would rather jump off a cliff than talk to him is a testament to his range.
The dynamic between the "fab four" was still there, but it was shifted. Kevin Kline, who won an Oscar for the first film, plays Vince McCain (the son of Cleese's billionaire character). Kline is loud, brash, and obsessed with marketing. While he’s great, some felt the movie tried too hard to give him "Otto-like" moments.
The Legacy of the "Zooland" Fiasco
If you go back and watch Fierce Creatures today, it’s much better than the 1997 reviews suggest. At the time, critics were brutal. They compared it to Wanda at every turn. That’s the danger of a spiritual sequel; you’re competing with a ghost.
The movie cost about $25 million to make, which was a decent chunk of change back then, and it barely clawed that back in the US. It did better internationally because, let’s face it, the world loves John Cleese.
The satire on corporate greed is actually quite biting. There’s a scene where they try to put a logo on a leopard. It’s ridiculous. It’s silly. But it’s also a very real critique of how branding was beginning to swallow culture whole. Cleese has always been interested in the psychology of "groups" and "corporations"—he even made a career out of training videos for businesses through his company, Video Arts.
Realities of the 1997 Release
There’s a lot of gossip about why the original ending was scrapped. Rumor has it the first version was much darker. John Cleese has been candid about the fact that they simply didn't get the tone right the first time. The reshoots, directed by Fred Schepisi (who took over from Robert Young), tried to inject more of that "zany" energy people expected.
The problem? You can't manufacture "zany."
A Fish Called Wanda felt like a low-stakes heist that got out of hand. Fierce Creatures felt like a high-stakes production trying to be a low-stakes comedy.
How to Appreciate Fierce Creatures Now
If you want to revisit this film, or watch it for the first time, you have to do one thing: forget A Fish Called Wanda. If you go in expecting Wanda 2, you’ll be disappointed. But if you watch it as a standalone British farce about a man trying to save a zoo from a soul-sucking corporation, it’s actually a blast.
- Watch for the cameos: Keep an eye out for Python-esque absurdities in the background.
- Focus on the satire: The "Fierce Animal" policy is a perfect metaphor for modern media's obsession with conflict and "clickbait" before clickbait existed.
- Appreciate the chemistry: Even when the script falters, the four leads have a rhythm that you just don't see in modern comedy. They trust each other. They know how to give each other space.
Next time you’re scrolling through a streaming service and see that poster with John Cleese holding a lemur, give it a shot. It’s not a perfect movie, but it’s a fascinating artifact of a time when major studios were still willing to put big money behind character-driven, satirical comedies written by grumpy, brilliant Englishmen.
The best way to experience the "Cleese style" is to watch his work chronologically. Start with the 1948 Show, move through Python, hit Fawlty Towers, and then do the double feature of Wanda and Creatures. You’ll see the evolution of a man who spent his whole life figuring out exactly why humans are the weirdest animals in the zoo.
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To get the most out of your rewatch, look for the subtle ways Rollo Leach mirrors Basil Fawlty. Both are men trapped in systems they didn't create, dealing with people they don't particularly like, trying to maintain a dignity that is constantly being stripped away by circumstance. That is the essence of Cleese's comedy. It's the "slow burn" followed by the "total explosion." In Fierce Creatures, the explosion just happens to involve a lot more exotic animals.
For those interested in the behind-the-scenes history, hunt down the DVD extras or older interviews from the late 90s where Cleese discusses the "editing hell" the film went through. It's a masterclass in how difficult it is to make something look effortless. Comedy is a serious business, and Fierce Creatures is the proof.
Check out the original trailers on YouTube to see how the marketing tried to force the "Wanda" connection. It’s a classic example of how branding can sometimes hurt a film's reception. By the time audiences sat down, they were looking for a heist, and they got a lemur. Once you get over that initial shock, the movie really starts to shine.
Don't ignore the supporting cast either. People like Ronnie Corbett and Robert Lindsay add layers of British comedy pedigree that ground the movie in a specific tradition. It’s a "who’s who" of talent that deserved a bit more love than they got at the time.
Ultimately, the film stands as a testament to Cleese's ambition. He didn't want to just repeat himself. He wanted to say something about the world. Even if the delivery was a little messy, the message—and the laughs—remain.