Talking About Talking To Americans
Rick Mercer Puts On America
Elm Street Magazine, February/March 2001
By Rick Mercer
So, just how does he do it? How does the comedian from television’s This Hour Has 22 Minutes get Americans to answer in earnest some of the silliest questions ever asked about Canada? With an hour-long version of the popular “Talking To Americans” segment set to air on CBC this spring, Elm Street asked Rick Mercer to tell all about his travels in America.
The actor’s nightmare is always the same. You’re thrown on stage, it’s a full house, and you don’t know your lines. Oh – and of course you’re naked. You have no idea what the play is, it’s sold out, and everyone can see your bird.
That was the nightmare I used to have in the old days. Now I have the TV version. I’m on location, the camera is rolling, I’m wearing my costume, and I have nothing to say. The producer stares at me and says, “OK, TV Boy, Be funny.”
As nightmares go, it’s just as scary. The only difference is that in the TV version, nobody can see your bird. The TV version also has a nasty habit of coming true.
In 1998 I was in Washington, DC, standing in front of the Capitol Buildings. Salter Street Films had spent a couple of thousand dollars getting me to Washington. My producer Geoff D’Eon was staring at me, Peter Sutherland had the camera on his shoulder, it was rolling, and I didn’t have an idea in my head. “Oh my God,” I thought, “it all ends here. My career is toast.”
For some reason my thoughts drifted to the CBC’s Ralph Benmergui.
A well-dressed Washington politico right out of central casting walked past me on the left. “Excuse me, sir, did you know Canada’s new prime minister, Ralph Benmergui, is visiting Washington for a summit with President Clinton?” I said. “Should it be called the ‘Clinton-Benmergui’ summit or the ‘Benmergui-Clinton’ summit?”
I didn’t really know what I was doing or where this might go. The man stopped, looked into the camera and began to speak at great length about not only summits in general but how thrilled he was that Prime Minister Benmergui was finally visiting Washington. While he was rambling on, I started to imagine how the piece, edited together, would play on the show. Gerald Lunz, our creative producer at the time, used sports metaphors to describe how well the sketches performed. Everything was either a double or a triple. This was going to be a home run. This guy wouldn’t shut up about Benmergui. The man wrapped it up by saying, “I, like all Americans, have great respect for Prime Minister Benmergui, after all he’s a great believer in peace.” The ball hit the scoreboard and the right field was being showered in sparks and broken glass.
As soon as he left, I tried to stop the next person. “Do you have a minute?” He didn’t. The more I asked, the more they said no. People on the street have a tendency to treat news crews as though they’re carrying the plaque. They’re afraid there will be a question and they won’t know the right answer. My home run was quickly becoming a foul. On the fifth or sixth try, I worded the question differently: “Excuse me, do you have a minute for Canadian television?”
“You have a TV station in Canada? Sure, what do you want to know?”
An hour later, I had my home run. Geoff, Peter and I were on our way to the Old Ebbits Grill to try the crab cakes.
Since then Geoff, Peter and I have traveled all over the United States. I’ve said, “Do you have a minute for Canadian television?” probably 1,000 times. Probably 500 Americans have responded: “You have a TV station?” “Yes,” I assure them, “we have a television station, and we have just legalized insulin! Care to comment?”
Canadians know almost everything there is to know about America. We’re inundated with every sordid little detail about their culture. Americans know nothing about Canada. Granted, none of us expect the elephant to be an expert on the mouse, but a little bit of knowledge can only help. In my own little way I’m trying to fix that. I always imagine the people I interview on their lunch hour returning to the office, where they take the knowledge I give them about Canada and pass it on to their co-workers. “Did you know that Canada just joined North America? It’s a big story up north,” or “Well, I happen to know for a fact that because of socialized medicine in Canada, 60 per cent of senior citizens up there are placed on ice floes to die.” How do they know? Well, they just signed a petition calling the practice barbaric, and it was addressed to Canada’s “Prime Minister in Waiting,” Paul Martin – or, as they say in Quebec, “Paul Martin Tete de Merde!”
The hardest part of “Talking to Americans” is keeping a straight face. People always want to know how many of the Americans I questioned knew the right answer. Of course there is no science. But when I was shooting on campus at Stanford University in California, 10 out of 10 students were thrilled that, like Jackson Hole, Wyo., Joe Clark’s Hole in Canada was now a protected environmental site. Maybe half said they would consider taking a guided tour of Joe Clark’s Hole in the near future.
The greatest part of shooting “Talking to Americans” is the knowledge I’ve gathered. I’m now an expert in things that nobody ever asks me about. To get that off my chest, I’ll share some of the things I’ve learned. For example:
If you’re planning on visiting Branson, Mo., don’t.
Branson markets itself as the Live Entertainment Capital of the World, Las Vegas with family values. It’s also Las Vegas without the talent. Actually, it’s Las Vegas without the talent and the food is disgusting.
We went to a show at a gigantic barn owned by Dolly Parton. You weren’t allowed to have utensils – you had to eat with your hands – and there were prizes given to people who could woof down their food the fastest. The show consisted of about 25 people on horseback who re-enacted the Civil War with stunt riding, lots of dry ice and song. The chorus kept singing something along the lines of “In the days of the plantation, when every day was a dream.” I did notice that out of the 800 people sitting in the audience, there were no black people. Which brings me to…
Branson Travel Tip #2
Visitors to the Live Entertainment Capital of the World will find it easy to navigate. There are numerous Branson Information Outlets along the main street. We chose to visit the one that had a mascot outside waving to the cars. Actually, it wasn’t so much a mascot as it was a gut in a Ku Klux Klan outfit. He would wave to the cars and all the families inside the cars would honk and wave back to him. To be fair, this Klansman did have a happy face sewn to the front of his chest, I guess to appeal to the kiddies. He was kind of a kinder, gentler Klansman.
I don’t want you to get the impression that Branson was all bad. I did get to shoot a gun.
It’s tricky to pull off: you have to walk into the building and lay $20 on the table, and they pass you a semi-automatic with a few clips of live ammunition. Then you go into the back room and have yourself you own little shootin’ spree. I can definitely see how people get hooked on blasting away at things with a semi-automatic Glock handgun. If you do visit, I highly recommend the shooting gallery. The man who operates it has many interesting theories he wants to share with you. He’ll also let you shoot a fully automatic machine gun for around $25 bucks.
When renting a car in America, ask questions.
As you probably know, quite often a car rental agency will not give you the car you asked for. Because there are three of us with a ton of camera gear, we always ask for a minivan. In San Fransisco the Budget agency told us they could not give us a minivan but offered a Ford Explorer instead. When I saw that the Explorer had Firestone tires, I asked, “Are they the type of tires that explode?” The woman behind the counter replied, “These tires have been inspected. They are not the type that explode.” If Budget says this to you, a good follow-up question would be, “When you say these are not the type of tires that explode, are you lying to me?” Another good question when dealing with Budget Rent-a-Car is, “By the way, is there any chance that Budget reported this vehicle stolen three weeks ago, and if a police car spots it, some pistol-packing cops will pull us over and arrest us?”
Of course, hindsight is 20/20. Which is exactly the thought going through my head three nights later as police surrounded our vehicle.
Back at the police station the officer told us that we “were actually lucky to have been picked up in a stolen vehicle and detained for two hours.” The tires on the Explorer were “exactly the ones that explode,” he said, adding that “you should really exchange that for a minivan or something.”
If the Tragically Hip are playing in America and you’re in the same town, go see them.
That’s pretty much self-explanatory, but still worth mentioning. I should really stress that if you have a chance to see them at the Filmore West, that’s a really good night out.
After interviewing a governor about Canada’s 20-hour clock, don’t ask for restaurant recommendations, or you will feel bad.
In Iowa I spoke with Americans about Canada’s 20-hour clock. As all Canadian readers are well aware, Canada operated on the 20-hour clock for centuries. Let’s face it, if we each had a dollar for every time we had to tell an American that a Canadian hour was actually 75 American minutes, and that if your bus is leaving at 5 pm, that actually means quarter to 6, we’d all be rich.
After many Americans offered their congratulations to Canada for finally switching to American time, we headed to the state Capitol Building. It doesn’t always happen, but sometimes when good luck and a refined skill at bullshitting combine, Geoff and I can talk our way into just about anywhere. Before we knew it, we were in the governor’s office and he was looking into the camera congratulating all Canadians on our new 24-hour clock. At times like this the mission is simple: don’t say a word, and get out as fast as you can. Unfortunately Governor Thomas Vilsack was chatty, “Where are you staying?” “Did you enjoy your stay?” “Nice weather we’re having.” When we mumbled that we didn’t have any supper plans, he pounced. Only one thought ran through my head: “Please, God, don’t invite us to dinner.” He didn’t. He suggested the best restaurant in town. “Go to Latin King, ask for Tony, tell ‘em the governor sent you.”
Some Americans are just too nice. That’s why they are so concerned when I tell them our national Parliament Buildings are melting. That’s why they’re so proud of us when I tell them we fly the Stars and Stripes over our president’s mansion. And now, because they’re so nice, this nice governor of this nice state is giving us restaurant recommendations. When he suggested the Veal Marsala, I thought the shame would kill me.
In the car I asked Geoff, “How do you think the governor is going to look in the show… D’you think it’s funny?” Geoff answered, “It’s out of the park.”
A couple of hours later we were seated at Latin King. The waiter approached and introduced himself as Tony. I knew my lines.
“Tony, hey we’re from Canada – the governor sent us.”
And the governor was right: the veal was great.
--from Elm Street Magazine