Sitting Pretty
Comic, author, satirist, actor. Rick Mercer, the Don Harron of his generation
The Ottawa Citizen, December 27, 1997
By Paul Gessell
Once a generation, a young actor surfaces from the chorus lines of summer festivals, community theatres or CBC variety shows to become a multi-media superstar delivering unapologetic Canadian content simultaneously on stage, screen, television and virtually every other entertainment medium in vogue at the time.
The biggest post-war star of this type was undoubtedly Don Harron, an actor, comedian, author, playright, broadcaster and all-round entertainer capable of doing almost anything designed to make you laugh, hum or applaud, including being the brains behind the quintessential, endlessly running musical, Anne of Green Gables, and appearing intermittently for decades as his alter ego and rube extraordinaire, Charlie Farquharson.
Now, Canada has Rick Mercer, who can be found on two weekly TV shows, including This Hour Has 22 Minutes, videos, one-man plays, films, and guest spots on everything from award shows to comedy festivals. Again this year, Mercer and the rest of the 22 Minutes gang will star in a one-hour New Year's Eve CBC comedy special, just so you start off 1998 in the proper mood of irreverent Canadian-ness.
Next May, Mercer enters a new stage of his career, that of author, and, with his first book, will embark on a national media tour to raise an already high profile even higher.
"He's everywhere, isn't he?" notes Pamela Robertson, a publicist with Mercer's publisher, Doubleday.
Indeed, Mercer is everywhere these days, waxing indignantly, in his Newfoundland accent, about Jean Chretien, crybabies, injustices and sacred cows, sounding much older than his mere 28 years and sounding so Canadian he'll probably get a Yukon mountain named after him, or be drafted to lead a small political party.
But is it good for him and for his career to be everywhere? Does Mercer actually run the most un-Canadian risk of being over-exposed? Will he become a jack-of-all-trades who is master at none? Will he ever reach the secret goal just revealed by his creative producer, Gerald Lunz, of being the perfect cross between two Canadian icons -- superstar rocker Neil Young and superbland broadcaster Knowlton Nash?
Harron, at 73, has some advice for the young Newfie who has replaced him as Cancon's leading renaissance man. Basically, that advice boils down to: Go for it.
Harron, who has just been touring with country legend Loretta Lynn, also has a warning: Trying to do everything simultaneously can result in burnout. That's what happened to Harron back in the 1970s when he was the host of the three-hour, five-day-a-week CBC radio show Morningside (definitely a full-time job) and was still writing the Charlie Farquharson books and doing live stage performances when not on the air.
"I was older when I left that show 15 years ago than I am now," Harron recalled. "I was really worn out. I'm much happier now just picking and choosing what I want."
Harron sounds like such a fan of Mercer that he just may be the first in line to buy Mercer's coming book, Streeters: Rants and Raves from This Hour Has 22 Minutes, which will be a printed version of 72 of his weekly televised broadsides, including some which were never actually broadcast.
"Oh, yeah," Harron gushes, before being asked, "I'll buy it, sure."
There is a touch of envy in Harron's voice when he talks of Mercer: "I wish I had the same effect he has because people just laugh at me and I think they probably have the hair stand up on their neck when they hear Rick. I'm just as political but he is more forthright. He just comes out and does it."
Harron and Mercer met a few years ago. The encounter, according to Mercer, happened when both he and Harron were backstage at a Toronto theatre to greet different friends appearing in the cast of "an English farce" whose name escapes him.
"A young person came up to me and was really excited about 22 Minutes and stuff and I think I signed their program for them," Mercer recalls, "and then they went over to someone and I said: 'My God, they're showing it to Don Harron.' I think it must have been his grandchild or some young person, about 12 or 13 years old, he was escorting to the show."
It sounds like the script for the ending of a sappy movie: A child rushes to get the autograph of the young, up-and-coming star, then shows off his prize to grandfather, who is, in reality, a fading star; the old and the new meet, shake hands, chat briefly and then go their separate ways, one into a bright future and the other into his memories; the music swells, the curtain falls, there is not a dry eye in the house.
Sometimes, it seems, life does imitate art, even if that art is a sappy movie script.
Harron talked to Mercer that night about Spring Thaw, the legendary travelling revue Harron helped launch in 1948. To many in the business, Spring Thaw was a seminal event in the creation of a truly Canadian entertainment industry -- an industry that offers far more opportunities for Mercer's generation than Harron's generation ever had.
Harron has been an integral part of most aspects of the entertainment industry for half a century. The only disappointment he admits to is his inability to crack the once thriving market for comedic record albums.
Despite some bouts of overwork, Harron says he has no regrets about trying to tackle a bit of everything.
"Do it all," he recommends.
And that's what Mercer seems to be doing. He calls it "the jack-of-all-trades curse." It's an affliction that comes from the insecurities, financial and otherwise, of trying to survive in the terribly unpredictable entertainment world. Those insecurities push some people to become alcoholics and some to be workaholics.
"You feel like once you have a week off," says Mercer, "it doesn't matter how tired you are, you think, 'My God, I'm never going to work again; I have to find a job,' and you go out and start treading the pavement looking for work."
In addition to 22 Minutes, now in its fifth season, Mercer has in the past year done journalistic assignments for Time magazine and the Microsoft news network, and has taken on a second job as the host of the weekly show It Seems Like Yesterday for the History Channel. His CV from recent years also includes three one-man plays satirizing Canadian politics, a role in the feature film Secret Nation and appearances in videos recyling some of the best of 22 Minutes.
The four cast members of 22 Minutes each have busy careers beyond the weekly satirical show. Mary Walsh is currently starring in a feature film, Extraordinary Visitor, being shot in Newfoundland, and is working on a series for the Baton network called Brass Tacks.
Greg Thomey has another CBC comedy show, Daily Tips, in the works and there's talk of a television special for Cathy Jones. That's in addition to the numerous guest spots the foursome, collectively or individually, do on awards shows or in government-financed galas designed to make us all feel really Canadian.
Mercer says he has no fears that the cast's many projects outside 22 Minutes will cause the show's quality to suffer.
"We call 22 Minutes the mother ship and we don't want to interfere with that," says Mercer. "22 Minutes is anti-troupe. We're not a comedy troupe and when the end of the season comes, we kind of say, 'See you later; have a good summer,' and then we all go off and do separate things. We came together, not as a troupe, but as a cast."
As for over-exposure, Mercer is waking up to the reality that that is, indeed, a danger for someone with a rising profile like his.
"It was never anything I had to think about before because you never had the opportunity."
Now, opportunities present themselves. Sometimes he can control events and sometimes, because of his fame, events control him in ways that are not always to his liking. His book, for example, was supposed to remain a secret for awhile. Publicity, too far in advance, does nothing for sales.
"It's true -- in Canada, you can die of exposure," he says half seriously, half in Mercerspeak. "We're a northern country."