‘Unapologetically by and for Canadians’
Unauthorized oral history of ’22 minutes’ insightful
“22 Minutes” has marked a significant anniversary. Its resilience is partly built into the format, which allows for refreshment and renewal. Within the show, there were character strengths and clashes. Walsh and Mercer were particularly competitive, and their drive to top the others’ work led to many of the show’s milestones. If Walsh, as Marg Delahunty, could stride with brandished sword across Parliament Hill, then Mercer would take the White House.
Exploring “This Hour Has 22 Minutes”’ origins, evolution, and staying power, Angela Mombourquette conducted a series of lengthy interviews and intercut the transcriptions. Suitably, it reads like a script. Some of the interviews were with the show’s cast — Rick Mercer, Geri Hall — but most are from those literally behind the scenes: producer Gerald Lunz, showrunner Edward Kay, writer Jennifer Whalen. In a nice touch, she also talked to Peter Mansbridge, who speaks both as a figure parodied on the show, and as a broadcast host of “real” news.
As the subtitle indicates, this is as an unauthorized oral history. There are some notables who didn’t co-operate, including series impresario Michael Donovan, though he first responded to Mombourquette’s queries with enthusiasm. Neither are the current cast present. Still, she has assembled lots of thorough, insightful, even at times suspenseful, material. The bulk of it runs through dialogue, with periodic connective contextualizing bridges.
The voices chime in chronologically. The idea “22 Minutes” came from Mary Walsh, POST-TV-CODCO, along the lines of a variety show, with country music and even avantgarde performances. This was wrestled into the news desk formulae, with and initial eight episodes featuring Walsh, Cathy Jones, Greg Thomey, and Mercer.
From the get-go, the creative process was bare bones and demanding. The show included takes on the current news, delivered from the news desk, and sketch comedy, the two requiring very different writing styles.
“There wasn’t any room for anybody that couldn’t cut it.” said Kay.
The routine meant “starting on Monday with a blank page, having a giant script by Wednesday night, throwing out half the stuff, and then putting the rest into production Thursday and Friday,” said writer, and later executive, Paul Bellini. “And a lot of times at a Wednesday read, they’d fall flat, or they’d get a bad read, or no one would understand them, or they just weren’t appropriate for the show.”
The pace was gruelling:
Whalen calls it “a beast that must be fed.”
The budget was tight, which in a lot of ways contributed to the show’s fast-on-its-feet style and wit. They would operate like a news unit, maneouvrable and, crucially, outside the studio. Mercer’s “Rants” (first called “Streeters”) looked dynamic and great but took almost no time and cost almost nothing.
Within the show, there were character strengths and clashes. Walsh and Mercer were particularly competitive, and their drive to top the others’ work led to many of the show’s milestones. If Walsh, as Marg Delahunty, could stride with brandished sword across Parliament Hill, then Mercer would take the White House. Enter “Talking to Americans,” which earned 2.7 million viewers. “Wayne and Shuster didn’t get those kinds of numbers when there were only two channels,” said producer Geoff D’eon.
“Talking to Americans” was a phenomenon of its time and one, wisely, Mercer has resisted revisiting. The reasons for this and the logistics of the show are worth a book in itself — as is its ability to embed itself into the international news cycle. But Mercer could also see how satire could shape social change. When Canadian Alliance leader Stockwell Day pledged his government would hold a referendum on any issue supported by 350,000 Canadians, “I felt this was nothing but a back door to stopping same-sex marriage,” Mercer said, and he started a petition that Day change his name to Doris Day. The ridicule Day received put paid to that platform plank.
There are a couple of minor problems with this book: it starts off a tad slow, and some of the quotes (and sprinkling of illustrative photographs) are repetitive. But these are trifles. The real ethos and impact of the program, which becomes part of a national conversation and fabric, comes through.
“These pieces are not just satirizing the news, they become the newspieces themselves,” said director Stephen Reynolds. “And ‘22’ has been very fortunate, over its history, to have nailed a bunch of those. They do transcend the show itself.”
And now things can go viral, not just the sketches (“The Codfather”; “Angry Yoga”), but, again, the show itself, as when “Saturday Night Live” was accused of poaching from it.
“22 Minutes” has marked a significant anniversary. Its resilience is partly built into the format, which allows for refreshment and renewal. (And having the likes of Mark Critch and Sue Kent aboard doesn’t hurt.)
“Our show was unapologetically by and for Canadians,” said Lunz. “Everybody else tries to make these shows that you can sell in America for export, and they become these watereddown versions of kinda-canadian, quasi-north American shows. We just didn’t do that, because we had come from a place where the regional voice was important.”