BILLY CONNOLLY, COMIC IN RESIDENCE NO ONE-NIGHT STANDS FOR HIM -- IT'S 15 SHOWS IN BRENTWOOD.

Byline: Evan Henerson

Theater Writer

Put Billy Connolly on a stage in front of an audience, and you never know what will pour forth.

The 64-year-old Glasgow-born actor/comedian has been refining his free-form, topical and often raunchy act for some 40 years. And he's not about to start scripting it now.

"It grows as I grow, develops as I do and gets old with me," says Connolly, who brings "Billy Connolly Live" to the Brentwood Theatre beginning Wednesday. "Whatever's on TV, from finding Jesus' grave, religion or politics, there's always something to riff on.

"I become a completely different guy," he adds. "I think, because of the adrenalin, being on stage in that position and with people in front of me listening, I've said things up there that I've never thought in my life, and I think, 'My God, where did that come from?' "

For this reason, Connolly says, he gets what disgraced former "Seinfeld" star Michael Richards was attempting when the latter uttered a racial epithet at an L.A. comedy club.

"He was trying to do this Lenny Bruce kind of approach of total outrage, where you hope to get outrage back, and you can both live in the outrage," says Connolly, adding that the word Richards used is not one that Connolly himself uses in performance. "But it went one way, and nobody responded, and he was kind of left fumbling around. I felt so sad for him because there are a lot of guys who talk about improvising and being courageous who should have been sticking up for him."

Laughter on the edge

Connolly's own humor has been known to ruffle feathers, from his 2004 remarks about British hostage Kenneth Bigley to the dust-up in the 1970s over Connolly's riff on the crucifixion that stirred a lifetime's worth of protests and outrage from fundamentalist pastor John Glass.

" 'Connolly! Blasphemer! Blasphemer! Blasphemer!' He had three nails, and he'd hit me with 30 pieces of silver, for years and years," the comedian recalls of Glass who died in 2004. "That's the chance you take. The ferryman must be paid. I'm perfectly happy to live with the consequences of these things."

Sitting at Jerry's Famous Deli in Westwood Village, Connolly looks something like a genetic hybrid of Bob Dylan and Jerry Garcia. The hair is more gray than blond, stylishly unruly. The eyes twinkle behind a pair of O-shaped glasses. The mustache, Connolly explains, is exceeding its usual length. He was set to play a German doctor in a film, but funding fell through. A little wax, and he could play Salvador Dali.

The look, like his act, is in a constant state of evolution. And throughout the United Kingdom, Australia and New Zealand, the free-wheeling and often foul-mouthed Connolly draws them by the thousands.

In America, however, his fame comes from a different medium.

"Billy has sold more tickets, more DVDs, more albums, more videotapes than any comedian in the English-speaking world, except in America," says Arnold Engelman, the producer with WestBeth Entertainment that has also promoted edgy British comedian Eddie Izzard. "Here he's mostly known for his acting."

Connolly began his career as "a funny folk singer" and expert banjo player, working the Scotland equivalent of the coffeehouse circuit. Journeying to America in the early 1970s, he opened for British rockers such as Elton John and Elvis Costello, and gradually saw his own stock rise in the U.K.

Playing the parts

Films and TV roles followed. He was the reptile-loving Uncle Monty in "Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events," a scheming nobleman in the "Garfield" sequel, an American Civil War veteran who goes to Japan in the Tom Cruise film "The Last Samurai" and -- perhaps most notably -- the grounded stable man suspected of being paramour to Judi Dench's Queen Victoria in "Mrs. Brown," for which he received a Screen Actors Guild Award nomination. Next up: a turn as a 6-foot pet zombie in the film "Fido."

"It's especially odd for me that, after all these years as a live entertainer, people don't really know me," says Connolly. "Some people are bigger than me, but that's always going to be the case. I just get along with it and try to remain good and original because I have an extraordinary name among comedy. And that does me lovely."

You might say. Anytime Connolly stops for a quick-hit three-performance set at a major house, frothing fans snap up all available tickets minutes after they go on sale. The intent this time around, says Engelman, is to play the smaller Brentwood for an extended period of time (he performs 15 shows through March 24), and thereby build audiences through word of mouth. The same strategy was employed in New York, where Connolly -- who recently bought an apartment in the city -- played six weeks at the 500-seat 37 Arts Theatre.

He loves the U.S.A.

Nearly four years ago, Connolly performed a few gigs at the Wilshire Ebell. He also lived in L.A. for several years in the mid- to late-1980s while filming the TV series "Head of the Class."

"I find myself always defending America, which is kind of peculiar because I'm not American," says Connolly. "A lot of people have a very bizarre idea of what America and Americans are like.

"My America has Robin Williams in it and Hank Williams and Chuck Berry and Earl Scruggs," he continues. "America gave the world optimism, and people should (expletive) try to remember that from time to time, because there's so little of it."

Billy Connolly's conquering of America, meanwhile, continues one comedy gig at a time. He was recently delighted to learn that his grandson, Wally, had opened up his Carl's Jr. kids meal and discovered a toy of McSquizzy, the combat-

happy squirrel Connolly voiced in the film "Open Season."

"I used to be jealous. Bobcat Goldthwait was in a Happy Meal. Robin Williams was in a Happy Meal. I said, 'Someday, you bastard, I'm going to get into a Happy Meal.' And I've done it!"

Evan Henerson, [phone]

[e-mail]

BILLY CONNOLLY LIVE

Where: Brentwood Theatre, 11301 Wilshire Blvd., Brentwood.

When: 8 p.m. Tuesday through Saturday; through March 24.

Tickets: $53 to $58. [phone]. www.BrentwoodTheatre.com.

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Photo:

Expect some mustache-twirling from Billy Connolly during his extended run in Brentwood. The actor-comedian grew the facial hair for a movie role that didn't pan out.

Tina Burch/Staff Photographer