Vera Santamaria Hates Swiss Chalet

IT'S TRUE. That's just one of the shocking things that came out at Table 23 at the Geminis last night. "Hate" is a strong word, an ugly word, so I gave her ample time to walk that sentiment back. But nope. She stuck by it. Hates. Swiss. Chalet.

Worse, in her defence, she suggested that KFC was somehow superior. KFC! I know! There were hoots of derision all around, of course. When the subject of the Swiss Chalet barbecue sauce came up, I pointed out that I have been known to dab a little behind the ears to feel sassy, while Rob Sheridan (Little Mosque, Corner Gas) insisted that the extra sauce was the only way to go. Not the 4 oz. Oh no. The muthafuckin 12 oz. cup. Word.

It's a good thing Vera's such a great writer. Because, seriously.

Anyway, the Meridian Artists table had plenty of the fun, but none of the annoying bling. Jocelyn Cornforth and I (up for writing for Across the River to Motor City) watched as the category and the trophy went to the very, very fine script for Mayerthorpe by Andrew Wreggit. It stings less when you enjoyed the competition.

Which is what I said to console the dapper Alan McCulloch, whose Stargate: Atlantis came up short against my favorite Canadian show last year, Durham County, in a well-deserved series writing win for Laurie Finstad Knizhnik.

The promised hair-off between Al Magee and Glenn Cockburn never happened. But the award for most patient spouses go to Glenn's wife Stephanie, and Marla Rosebush Kaye, who were taking care of the brand-new-bambino coproductions at home while Cockburn and Marvin Kaye (Less Than Kind) pressed the flesh at the Liberty Grand. Glenn Cockburn was last seen lighting out to take the midnight shift.

Didn't see as many Writer Mafia types as last year, but there were standbys like Jill Golick, and Pete Mitchell. Graham Clegg waxed magnificent about the old Alliance days, when "night two was the night it all went crazy." Sadly, these are sobering times for TV, so the spirit of the party was subdued, but it was nice to see everyone all spiffified. Ken Girotti was in the house, a bit of time off before starting work on a pilot in Hamilton on Monday. "We're shooting the Hammer for the Hammer!"

Imagine such a thing.

And though my fave speech had to be Chris Szarka's pithy and exuberant acceptance for comedy directing winner T.W. Peacocke (Rent-A-Goalie,) my favorite moment of the night was watching Jonas Chernick accept his much-deserved award for playing the hell out of Heironymous Slade on The Border.

As my colleague Sarah said after, "Our Jonas beat Sam Neill."

Quite.

It's no secret that I love writing some of Slade's many disquisitions and outbursts -- it's the best part of my job writing The Border, because I get to write things that make me laugh and watch as he sells them, brilliantly. But those great moments when Jonas finds the humanity behind the character and makes you care about the guy -- that's all him.

Christopher Donaldson also picked up hardware for editing The Border, and the fine sound team for Across The River to Motor City picked up an award for their work on that show, too.

So I guess it's all over until..groan...night 4 in November.

Maybe they'll serve Swiss Chalet.

Hola Spiffy

IF YOU'RE GOING to the Geminis tonight, be sure to come up and say, "Hi."

Unless you're a stalker of some sort, in which case, I'm pretty sure I just saw Paul Gross go thataway. And I'm sure he'd LOVE to read your script...

Kidding. I love Paul Gross. Geez.

Return to Durham!

I DON'T USUALLY just pimp the press releases, but since Durham County was one of my favorite shows of last year, and one of my favorite Canadian shows EVER, has started shooting its second season! More creepy goodness from Laurie Finstad Knizhnik and the good people at Back Alley Film Productions.

The second season follows Mike Sweeney (Hugh Dillon) and his family as they try to come to terms with the anguish they suffered as a consequence of their encounter with serial killer Ray Prager in the former season. Durham County 2 continues on its visceral journey through the human psyche as the main characters battle with the issues and demons left behind from the aftermath of season one.

“We’ve once again created an ensemble drama that combines pace and suspense with complex psychological characterization that will leave the audience on the edge of their seats,” says Finstad Knizhnik.

“Michelle Forbes plays a brilliant but troubled forensic psychiatrist who develops a very intense bond with Mike Sweeney,” says Director/Executive Producer Adrienne Mitchell (Durham County I, Bliss).

“We’re thrilled with the success of season one of Durham County. The Gemini nominations and the international sales reaffirm that a series like this can travel beyond Canada’s borders,” says Executive Producer Janis Lundman (Drop the Beat).

coming to TMN in 2009! Awesome!

Rent-A-Travelogue

BILL BRIOUX's up with a further entertaining account of his cross-country Hockey promo trip with the Rent-A-Goalie boys, and some good skinny from Phil Esposito, too.

The most breathtaking scenery was found up the coast. Eight of us squeezed into a van and drove through Gros Morne Provincial Park. This is where the nickname "The Rock" truly resonates. Massive cliffs thrust out into the ocean. Small towns like "Cow's Head" are scattered between the rock and fields, with small white houses and hundreds of lobster nets dotting the landscape. Dudes sit on rooftops, next to their dogs, drinking beer. This is Canada.

Executive producer Chris Szarka came prepared; dressed in shorts, he waded into the ocean down by the spot where, in 1919, "the worst storm ever" capsized the S.S. Ethie, a beauty of a ship according to the official park marker.

When you bitch about the lack of promo for Canadian shows, take a look at these guys. THAT is going the extra mile, mes amis. Also, I am contractually obligated here to point out once more that Chris Szarka is the Tallest Man In Canadian Show Business.

Rent-A-Goalie airs Mondays at 9:30 p.m. on Showcase.

What Kind of Day Has It Been?

NOT OFTEN DO you get a day as odd in scope as I had on set yesterday.

First up was the filming of the first sex scene I've ever written and had shot. Or at least it was the first scene with dialogue. It has so little to do with the lovin, does these sorts of scenes. All camera and flip the hair and clear the frame and closed set and careful this and don't look goofy that. And since I wanted something about fun, and intimacy, all I can say is that when people are laughing and joking through the whole thing, it does a heart good. Such a weird and amazing skill, this acting thing. It's amazing how something so utterly unlike the thing you're portraying -- a touching, intimate moment -- can be made to seem that way through performance, and blocking, and the right film stock and handy Directorial skill.

And the dialogue was charmingly, winningly delivered. Yay.

Then I got interviewed by Rick Mercer, who was spending the day learning how to fight and get shot on set. Director Brett Sullivan was charming and funny and great. I was...scared. Oh man, when you realize that Rick Mercer is there, and you're going to be... Mercered, the Catholic in me just bubbles up. Into your hands, I commend my spirit, oh Trickster.

That airs on next week's Rick Mercer Report. Yay.

Then, of course, was the fight scene. Graham Abbey getting thrown around the set, and a stunt guy bashing into all the breakaway pieces, and Randy Butcher's cool fight choreography. And Nick Campbell coming in with a late hit with a bat. Kapow.

Man, that is going to be one fun sound effects session. Like a wet fish hitting a snare drum. Or something. Anyway. Great fun, yay.

Wrap at 8:30. Last day for the B Script Supervisor and Both A.D.'s, last day for my eps of Season 2 of The Border. Made it.

Glad to be done with the 7:30 calls (you mean the crew does this every day?) but tremendously happy that I get to do this for a living, whatever the bumps along the way. It is a lot of work. But when the work is good, and the people are good -- it's worth it. It is.

I think.

Now. I have about six months of phone calls to return...

Sorry! I Enjoyed Myself! Sorry!

LONGTIME READERS KNOW that I talk a lot about how creatives shouldn't respond to their negative reviews. And I mean that. So let me take the spoonful of sugar with this apparent contradiction (although it's not really a negative review, so there!) to say that I appreciate that Kate Taylor took her column to write about Canadian TV today. She had some nice things to say about Rent-A-Goalie, and about my episode of The Border.

In fact, the whole point of this Border episode was to see if the show could stretch enough to not take itself too seriously. You'll have a chance to judge for yourself how well we succeeded tonight at nine.

But the question I have to ask is this: is it just me, or is this, again, a very Canadian review. You can't say, "I enjoyed this," because it has to be qualified at all costs. Just seems rather...odd. That's all. And not funny-odd like the Torontoist review of a couple weeks back.

The Border (CBC, 9 p.m.), on the other hand, takes itself pretty seriously. Too seriously, sometimes; like most crime shows out there it is rather too full of tough cops delivering self-important lectures on impending threats through narrowed eyes. They always remind me of security-system salesmen, all in the job of manufacturing fear. I can't say James McGowan's work as the troubled detective Mike Kessler is growing on me: The guy just looks unhappy most of the time. What a relief whenever the darkly funny Jonas Chernick appears on screen as the unit's resident hacker and intelligence geek, Hieronymous Slade.

What draws me to The Border, however, is how effectively its writers keep it rooted in the here and now. Sure, its notion tonight that some FLQ terrorist is going to come out of hiding 30 years down the road to track down a Quebec premier may be far-fetched, but the way this plot is woven into the story of a Quebec-Vermont border town is delicious.

The town is supposed to be one of those places where Canadians and Americans live happily side by side, with the local doctor in Canada and the drugstore in the U.S., while a red strip along a barroom floor represents the border. But when a Canadian border guard with orders to be extra vigilant delays the local fire brigade with a passport check and a house burns down, angry residents show agents Hourani and Lipinski just how they feel about recent increases in border security.

The tough Toronto agents can't believe this place where a terrorist could cross the border as easily as he could cross a street - and, of course, in this paranoid universe, this is where Mr. FLQ is going to show up.

It's nice to occasionally see ourselves - or at least some pumped-up facsimile thereof - on the tube.

I'm pretty sure these kinds of reviews say something about this country. It might even be something endearing. And I think it has a lot to do with the kinds of shows we end up making. But I'm no longer sure what. I think it might have something to do with the phrase "pumped up facsimile" -- because really, isn't that what TV drama is supposed to be?

In any case, whether it's a qualified and measured mention from Kate Taylor, or another pan from John Doyle, the P.T. Barnum in me steps up to embrace the important thing: you mentioned the show, and you got the time right.

So a big, heartfelt thanks from me!

Yo, Pimp My Ep!

FURTHER TO THE below– I’m pretty excited because Rick Mercer’s going to be on set of The Border all day today, for a bit that will air in a few weeks. And speaking of The Border, although I’d love you to watch Gas and RAG, I think maybe I’d like you to tape them more.

That way you can watch my second episode of THE BORDER, tonight at 9 on CBC. This one is a bit of a departure for the show. I wrote about it back when it was gestating and shooting. This is our first attempt at a comic subplot. Some funny stuff from former Second City ‘er Mark Wilson, and guest stars Matthew Deslippe, Reagan Pasternak, and Bruce Hunter. Definitely a stretch for the show.

Tune in and let me know what you think.

Oh, and if you tune in to the Canadian TV podcast, you can hear an interview with "Slade", Mr. Jonas Chernick, halfway through. He does a good plug for the episode, but doesn't mention my name. Man. What were those twenties for anyway, Chernick?

Doyle'll probably hate it. Ah well.

Canada's Comedy Crown

DON’T LOOK NOW, but comedy isn’t dead on TeeVee. In fact, if you’re in Canada, it’s in better shape than it’s been for some time.

Call it the Corner Gas effect (if you must.) After six seasons, they may be calling it quits. But the legacy is undeniable. Despite a host of new simulcast-driven timeslots over the years, a million and a half Canadians find the show each week. They buy the DVD’s and they celebrate Brent Butt’s everyman Brent Leroy with loyalty and affection. Affection. For a Canadian show.

It’s been a couple of years since you heard any real carping about Corner Gas. Next to the almost unheard of feat of actually making it through six whole seasons, the show seems also to have outlasted the curious subset of self-hating Canucks who wished to criticize it. Seems that, however grudgingly, like the lumberjack shirt, hockey hair or the toque, people are used to the idea that it’s okay to laugh at a show made by Canadians, for Canadians. Even the show’s export to the USA last year (where it airs on Chicago superstation WGN) caused a smaller than expected ripple. No, Canadians like Corner Gas because they like Corner Gas. Period. And nobody has to tell them it’s okay to like it.

Many have speculated about why this show made it where so many other attempts failed. The usual reasons, trotted out by we who are concerned about such things, go like this: the show’s rural setting speaks to how Canadians like to view themselves, as folksy, rural and not particularly uppity; the humor (sorry, humour) is gentle and not dependent on people suffering or being particularly mean to each other (except for maybe Oscar, and he usually gets his comeuppance) or maybe it’s just that Brent is so laconic and easygoing that he seems the kind of guy a good Canadian might want to have a beer with. A strong, Canadian beer. You know what I’m talking about.

There’s a behind-the-scenes host of reasons why this show flourished where so many others failed, too, of course. Corner Gas was blessed in its early days by a bit of benign neglect from the network, where the (now departed) CTV exec Louise Clark was really the only one putting her fingers in the pie. The Producers, led by Virginia Thompson, ran a tight ship, hired the best writers, and rather than try to make them extensions of some frustrated creative will – actually left them alone to do the writing. Finally, Butt kept the whole thing grounded to his comfort zone, his comic persona.

I dare say that if more shows ran the way Gas did, we’d have no end of comedy hits. Which is why it’s of some comfort to know that the lessons learned from Gas might help birth a couple of other new shows. Not only is Butt developing a new show for CTV starring his wife and co-star Nancy Robertson, but Former Gas Showrunners Kevin White, Paul Mather, and Mark Farrell have teamed with Gas alum Fred Ewaniuk in a pilot called Dan for Mayor. Both pilots have a shot to become a series in 2009.

As for the current crop, the obvious inheritor of the Gas effect was Little Mosque on the Prairie. In its first groundbreaking season, Mosque got all the attention for its novel concept, but viewers and critics were underwhelmed when it came to the actual comedy. The show was laboured and forced, more concerned with “teachable moments” than making people laugh. (Exactly the opposite of the Gas approach.) In a way it was a throwback to a bad old, melodrama-style of CBC show. Whereas Corner Gas was light and enjoyable, Mosque seemed preachy and fitfully plotted.

An injection of two writers (Paul Mather and Rob Sheridan) from the Corner Gas stable in time for the show’s second (much longer) season, brought some of Gas’ light touch – better gags and structure, a surer focus on the ensemble, and an expansion of the world beyond its one-idea premise. People who had written off Mosque slowly drifted back. The show built its audience steadily over the second season, finishing at or around the million viewer mark. For the third season, some of those viewers have fallen away (TV viewership across all channels is down) but there are signs that Mosque’s 700 000 or so viewers might have some room to grow. The show is now closer in tone to Corner Gas – not quite the same level of goofy whimsy, and maybe a little preachier and staler than season two, but with stories that are competently plotted and amiable in their appeal.

Another show is vying for the Corner Gas comedy crown, though, by going for a different tone that still has a Canadian cant to it. Less Than Kind (Mondays, 10:30 Citytv) follows the misadventures of a Jewish family in Winnipeg, as seen primarily through the eyes of their whip-smart, socially awkward, hefty 16 year old son, Sheldon. (Jesse Camacho). Less than Kind eschews the quiet whimsy of Corner Gas for more of an urban – come – suburban take. This family yells, and bickers, and has sex and cheats on their income taxes. It’s a bit like The Wonder Years, but with swearing and psychological conditions like pyromania, and situational narcissism. You have to give credit to a show that shoots Winnipeg for Winnipeg in the winter. That snow aint potato flakes, people.

As much as Less Than Kind goes for the edge, though, there’s still something kind of sweet about it. The relationship between Sam Blecher (Maury Chaykin) and his wife is affecting. There’s a scene where the wife blows up at Sam and he wanders the streets, not knowing what to do. He’s lost without her. Aww.

Less Than Kind also benefits from some truly lucky and superb local casting. You know how sometimes it seems like Canadian shows use the same ten actors? Well, not Less Than Kind. For every Shaun Majumder who shows up, there’s a spectacular newcomer doing a brilliant comic turn. As run by Mark McKinney and created by Chris Sheasgreen and Marvin Kaye, you could call Less Than Kind a quirky delight, except that word ‘quirky’ has been so abused in Canadian film and TV circles that it’s more like an albatross around the neck than a compliment. So let’s just call Less Than Kind what it is: a delight.

With no new season of Trailer Park Boys, the guns and weed and strangely sweet, profane lo-fi sensation, your other pick for Canadian comedy tonight is the premiere of Season 3 of Rent-A-Goalie. RAG doggedly takes on their own promo to try and spread the word on this very Canadian show – it’s Canadian down to its DNA, so much so that format sales are probably the only way this show would export. From the cameos by NHL’ers to the multicultural, not melting pot treatment of ethnicity (the show posits a heightened vision of Toronto where Russians, Italians, Irish, African Canadians and every other ethnicity rub shoulders and don’t subsume who they are – kind of like the real Toronto) this take on the workplace comedy has an egalitarian streak a mile wide. Cake (Christopher Bolton) is a reformed bad boy. Sometimes he’s a genius, sometime’s he’s a knob. But he lives by a code and tries to treat everyone fairly. Even his enemy isn’t such a bad guy – and it’s clear that they have a bond. (Try imagining a drunken convo between Ben Kenobi and Darth Vader where they hug it out instead of going to the sabres.)

RAG mines the territory of the gross-out boy joke, with a bit of gratuitous sex and stupid violence thrown in. It’s like the Farrellys on five, instead of eleven. Someone always gets hit in the nuts, but never too hard, and they always manage to skate it off. People are accepted for who they are – be they lesbians, agoraphobes, sex-crazed councillors, gassy goalies, sex addicts, or Byelorussian goons with attachment issues.

Like the best of the Judd Apatow stuff, though, the gross out stuff is misleading. Every once in a while you’ll catch a joke or a riff that’s entirely more literate and elevated. Hockey, sex, and shenanigans – all performed by an exuberant and likable cast. This is a group that really has life by the pucks. (Disclosure: I helped plot season 2 of RAG and wrote early drafts of two episodes, but I look forward to season 3 merely as a fan.)

So three – count’em -- Canadian comedy shows, all with something to recommend them – airing on the same night. Not bad. There’s only three U.S. sitcoms I watch with any regularity, and they’ve got what, ten times the population?

But of course, we’re not even done. Because as I’ve written before, Canada’s topical sketch tradition continues, thanks to CBC.

Both The Rick Mercer Report and This Hour Has 22 Minutes have come back incredibly strong this year – thanks to an election, and perhaps, a bit more boldness and sharpness in the satire. Mercer and 22 have also continued to evolve apart, with Rick going more for his experiential bits as 22 falls back, with a rejuvenated cast – on its strengths – strong desk jokes and short sketch parodies.

Contrast that to CTV’s attempts to float a sketch show – the horrible Comedy Inc, the underwhelming Popcultured, Jessica Holmes – and you’ll see that taking care actually does make a difference. You can’t write 84 sketches and shoot them all. Something’s gotta hit the floor.

Every few months, it seems, some Canadian journo gets it in their head to do a “why are Canadians so funny?” article, usually based around this or that Canadian who’s gone south for fame and fortune. Most comics and comedy writers you talk to will struggle with the question publicly, and often denounce it as bullshit privately.

Comedy is hard. There’s no question about it. And if Canada has produced a series of substandard comedies in the past (and it has,) maybe that’s because comedy is so delicate, so fragile, so hard to get right – that the catalogue of ways you can screw it up has proven to be a huge hill to climb.

There’s the writing itself. Producers or Execs that want to “fix” the writing. People in power with no sense of humor. Inexperienced cast who oversell every line, or mug, or refuse to throw away a line to make it land, because they don’t trust the material; Directors who don’t stage the scene correctly, or get the right coverage. Editors who don’t give it the right pace – and all this before you get to the P.R. campaign that manages to sell it wrong. Ugh.

Then and only then, if you’re lucky, do you get to be judged by an audience. Who may or may not get you. Most every comic writer I know dreams of getting to that point. They’d rather take their chances with the audience than watch their baby strangled in the crib. (Or worse, being forced to strangle it themselves.)

Yup. It’s hard. Which is one of the reasons why I think the way the Comedy category is administered in the Gemini Awards is a joke.

This Wednesday, the Gemini for Best Comedy writing will be handed out in Toronto. EDIT: A correction... apparently Comedy/Variety writing is on the Gala night, Nov. 28. Look. I got one of the FOUR NIGHTS OF GEMINIS confused! Bizarrely, Corner Gas and Mosque – inarguably the two most successful (in terms of audience) scripted comedies on Canadian TV – received zero nominations.

This could have something to do with the fact that the category is actually called Comedy/Variety. Which means that shows like Gas (or nominees Billable Hours and the low budget IFC show Cock’d Gunns) find themselves up against 22 Minutes and The Mercer Report.

That’s just wrong. I’m sorry. I know there’s a little unintended comedy in asking for there to be actually MORE categories of Geminis. But if you look over the list, you’ll see about four or five awards for what amounts to ‘Best Host.’ There are several different flavours of documentary awards to choose from. Even the category I’m nominated in, Best Writing in a Dramatic Movie or Miniseries, doesn’t have to also absorb entries from the Drama Series category.

A brilliant Rick Mercer field bit, a sublime 22 Minutes desk joke, and a great episode of Corner Gas are all funny. But they’re funny in different ways, for different reasons. Comedy is subjective and difficult to judge anyway. Why would you make the process harder?

There should be a variety or sketch category, and a comedy series category. Fullstop.

In any case, audience, there you go. There are three great Canadian comedies to choose from tonight. With another Reforma-Tory government in play, and an economy about to crater, all I can say is: lucky you. Pull up a chair and laugh til you cry.

The Sounds of Silent Cocktails

SO YESTERDAY THERE was a little cocktail-party-y thing on the set of The Border. Ostensibly, this media event by the PR company Media Profile was put together to try to bump some coverage for the show, post-launch – and also to celebrate an addition to the cast of The Border, Grace Park (Battlestar Galactica.)

Having the thing in situ was a reasonable idea. There’s something about sets that are kind of funky and cool if you’re not around them all the time. And the “ICS Locale” -- really the disused Port Authority Rochester Ferry Terminal (now used for its primary purpose – passenger unloading and customs, only a couple times a year) does have a pretty spectacular view of the Toronto skyline.

Unfortunately, we were running a tiny bit behind yesterday. Director Brett Sullivan and the crew were working hard to get coverage of the monitors in the tech area right after crew lunch – the first half hour of which overlapped with the cocktail party.

So now you have to picture the scene: there are servers and a bartender, and some of the actors who aren’t in the scene are meeting and greeting the intimate group of attendees. (this was not the usual Toronto PR clusterfuck where, you know, you’ve got people with no connection to the biz rubbing shoulders with that P.A. from the dance station, the blogger from Boats & Fish.blogspot.com, that dude who was the host of that thing about ten years ago, the PhD student from Concordia, the random agent who reps ten people you’ve never heard of, that guy in the hat, and the fugly sociopath who writes for [insert publication here]
Oh, and then the drag queens arrive and nobody can quite figure out what they’re doing there.)

So, you’ve got Gillian on walkie there at the entrance door to ICS, and every few minutes she says, “Rolling, quiet please” and the chatter on the floor, as people just sip their wine, just stops. Dead. At a cocktail party.

It was one of the funniest, most gloriously Canadian things I’ve ever seen. Somebody tells a group of people – who all are drinking alcohol, remember – to please be quiet for a minute, and lo and behold, it happens. Silence. You could hear a pin drop. One of the servers had just been asked what the so-and-so was, and I swear to Mike I saw her try to explain what was on the tray entirely in mime.

I told a couple of people that it wasn’t a cocktail party at all – that they were now part of some art installation. Somebody said they saw Banksy outside with a few cans of spray paint.

The crew got their takes, and moved on to another part of the terminal, dressed to look like an airport lounge.
Meanwhile, back at the soiree, I was now into full field spotting mode. For those of you making your way gently in the early stages of your media career, here is the field spotting guide to Canadian P.R. events:

In the corner, you will find scriptus serius. These are the common TV writers. They are there only for the command performance aspect of it. They talk mainly to each other, about other things, blissful in the knowledge that there is absolutely no way whatsoever that anyone will wish to speak to them. There is much dissection of the various types of hors’ d’oeuvres, and the relative merits of each. Eventually, the writers will scatter – one will go to a play, one to a screening, and the remaining one will toddle back to set having had two (ish) glasses of wine to guiltily watch the crew work. The buzz will wear off somewhere around nine, when he will find himself shivering outside on Cherry Beach, watching Nick Campbell smoke.

Interviewus Big Getus is the star people are there to talk to. She will be charming, and introduce herself when there’s no one there to lead her. She will disappear to do one on ones every few minutes with this camera crew or that one, and just generally show how it’s to be done. The writers in the corner will look upon her as an exotic and different species, because, let’s face it, she is. The relation between the two groups is only similar on the DNA level.

Printus Reportorius just keeps jotting everything down in his notebook. He never looks up. Ever.

Savvius Thespius is the cast member who always manages to be talking to the most important person in the room. They also get in all the pictures. It’s uncanny.

Flackus Professionalus are the P.R. people. They all have ponytails. They smile a lot and are enthusiastic and nice when you talk to them. They have suspiciously nice teeth. They guard their screener DVD’s like leprechaun’s gold. (They are also not to be confused with Communicatoris Directorius, who works directly for the Production and who I apparently owe a burger at that-watering-hole-I-like-to-go-to.)

Classiest Beenaroundtheblockius is the cast member who asks you to borrow twenty bucks, only to go over and put it in a glass in front of the Bartender to tip them and all the servers. Classy. (Especially when he indeed repays the 20, as promised, the next day.)

Networkius Promosaurus are the promotion types at the network. They are wonderful and mythical creatures who always have clean, strong teeth and perfect hair and shower lots and lots and lots of shiny promo time on the show like beneficent and golden gryphons. They may also provide ad copy to the papers. The cutlines are always awesome, and the names of the shows’ characters are always spelled right.

So, there you go. Promo in action. It’s a dirty business, but hey, it’s a long way to the top if you want to rock and roll.

Wish you could have seen the silent cocktail party. That was something else entirely.

My Next Border Pony. Um. No. Episode. Right. Episode. I don't secretly love Ponies. Really.

OH HERE'S SOMETHING. This is the preview for my next episode of THE BORDER, on CBC this coming Monday night at 9pm. Like the first ep I did, Ep.2, this one's directed by Michael DeCarlo, who I also worked with on ACROSS THE RIVER TO MOTOR CITY.





That's an interesting promo because it doesn't really reflect the change of pace ep this is supposed to be. Almost like CBC promo was afraid of it. Something else they were afraid of? Three letters: FLQ.

That's right. Next week on The Border, we actually tackle a domestic Canadian terrorist group.

Funny how that's not in the promo.

(by the way, just to be clear....I know why it's not in the promo. I just think it's interesting.)

The Old Rumply Bumply

SO. OVER THE next few days it strikes me that I'm going to hit a milestone. Something I've never done before. The first sex scene I wrote is going to be committed to film.

Well, I mean, it's not the first one. It'll be the first one produced. But, you know what? It's not even that much of a milestone.

Because what I learned was this:

Writing a sex scene is like writing an action scene. Which is to say it's like being the date of a supermodel.

Oh man, it is so NOT about you.

Sex scenes, action scenes, they're directors' areas. The only voice the writer really has in any of that, is context. What does it mean?

I'm not concerned about what happens, who does what, goes where, holds whatever, what the motion is, exactly how the earth moves, or the bedspread tears, or the breakaway bed shatters, or anything else like that in the whole world. I just. don't. care. I care about context. I can so far as to say something like, "I want this to be about two people who have been together a few times, and it's not just sex anymore, and that's a little scary." But then, I'm done. To me that scene is about what the actors and the director wants to bring about it. I don't know. Is that weird?

In any case, Jill Golick's got a good post up about some memorable sex scenes in TeeVee. Well worth your read. Go and comment.

If you think I'm vamping, oh yeah. I am. Guilty. Day six of eight for my last ep of The Border, but from here on in we're at home base. I'm happy to be winding down. And I love being on set. My God, people work so very, very hard. I have thoughts on the writer on set and how they can be un-useless, and even improve their stock by learning to be production friendly... but those posts will start next week.

I am giddy at the thought of sleep, and free time, and also, um...I don't know...socializing. We'll see.

For now...Handwaving, handwaving, handwaving...

Then, At Least, We Could Have Bought Our Own Sweaters.

FIFTY-EIGHT PERCENT of Canadians bothered to vote yesterday. 58. Lowest total ever. On the one hand, can't blame them. We've had three federal elections in four years. That's not great. But it does raise the question, with twenty-one million eligible voters, and an election campaign that costs about 240 million dollars a pop, wouldn't it just have been easier to give everyone who voted last time twenty bucks?

Just sayin.

See you in the election of 2010. Or not.

Vote you Varmint

NO POST TODAY. Go the polls. Do your duty, or don't complain about anything that happens starting tomorrow.

Horn O'Plenty on the Tee Vee Tonight.

BLEARY EYED. THREE hours sleep -- the sleep goddess she giveth and she taketh away -- before I drive off to my "just another workday" Thanksgiving, I would be remiss if I didn't point out that with a little VCR Shuffling, you can have yourself a heckuva good homegrown TV night to night -- the better to digest your mashed potatoes and pumpkin pie with. Mmm. Pumpkin pie.

First, at 9:30 pm on CTV -- it's hard to believe that there's only 19 more visits to Dog River, Sask. But there you go. The venerable and much loved Corner Gas returns for its final season. If you can't get enough Gas (yes, yes, I'm 12) etalk has a special tribute show at 7pm.

Then, at 10:30 on Citytv -- a rare original series entry from the now Rogers-controlled group of five stations. Less Than Kind is a funny and scabrous family comedy set in Winnipeg. It stars Maury Chaykin (who really needs to STFU about Little Mosque in every interview he gives about the show) as the put upon patriarch, and Jesse Camacho as the preternaturally wise teenage son, Sheldon. The show, created by my friends (full disclosure) Marvin Kaye and Chris Sheasgreen, is also lucky to have former Kid in the Hall Mark McKinney showrunning. I hope to have a bigger feature on this show in the weeks ahead, but for now, here's what I wrote about it when I saw a screening earlier this year.

Finally, time to go back and set that PVR/VCR -- because I know you don't want to miss tonight's thrilling and vurra kina sexy episode of The Border. (9pm, CBC)

(I'd link to the trailer here on Youtube, but it isn't up there, because I didn't nag them to put it up there this week. Sigh. Canadian Tv. In a miraculous turn of events, though, you actually can see the trailer on the CBC website.)

As you gather round the hearth to recriminate, argue about the relative merits of the new Hockey Night in Canada theme, and out cousin Timmy, make time for the TeeVee, won't you?

Much obliged.

Thankful

WRITERS RUN DARK. That's just part of the gig. But as an unseasonably warm autumn continues and extends, I find the mood that has of late run indigo lightening several shades.

To Americans struggling with the credit crisis, and the apparently buried story that the whole idea of investing directly in banks was suggested by Democrats three weeks ago and roundly rejected by Republicans, (but oh no, both sides are equally to blame for the mucking about, right?....wait ... no... colored leaves. Pie. mmm.)

--anyway, yeah, the finish of that thought is that tomorrow in Canada is Thanksgiving. I look ahead over the next few weeks and see my workload lightening (and the commeasurate instinct and jones to begin new projects) and one naturally pauses to think about what you're thankful for.

• First and foremost this year, I've made and deepened a lot of important friendships by throwing myself headlong into my industry, and giving up on the notion of keeping my work and my social circle separate. Yup. It means a lot of shop talk, but usually you can push past that. My writer friends are funny, and literate and odd, and they have passionate opinions that somehow never fully embrace the orthodox. They keep me on my toes, and in the end, can you ask for anything better from your friends?
  
  
• I'm thankful and humbled by getting a bit of recognition from my peers, with the Canadian Screenwriting Award I won in April, as well as the Gemini nomination I picked up recently for Across The River To Motor City. It really is nice just to be nominated. I thought that was a cliche, but no...
  
  
• I'm thankful to see other friends experience success, whether it be one of my oldest friends Mark, who along with his wife Stephanie created Flashpoint, a show that's received a bit of attention this year. There's also my friend Marvin Kaye, who's managed to have himself quite a Canadian Thanksgiving weekend -- welcoming a daughter with his wife Marla yesterday, and birthing another baby tomorrow night, when his series Less than Kind (co-created with Chris Sheasgreen, and showrun by Mark McKinney, premieres on Citytv (10:30 pm.)
  
  
• I'm thankful for the opportunity to serve other writers in Canada by trying to make our lot better, through the Writers Guild of Canada Council. Everyone on council really is as nice as Maureen said they were.
  
  
• I'm thankful that the new Hockey Night in Canada theme actually doesn't suck. CTV may have nyah-nyah rights to the old song, but we're still waiting for you to step up and give us a venerable institution like HNIC, especially now that the one you fluked into is going off the air...
  
  
• I'm thankful that a long-ago post "How Corner Gas Ruined Everything," continues to be discovered about once a week by Americans, presumably who've Googled the show and landed on this blog. I'm thankful for that, because the comments that come from the American viewers inevitably offer a perspective that I find familiar, that I wish was available here more often: a generosity of spirit and praise, and context. Take this recent comment by "Big Joe Rice,"
  
  

  "We've recently discovered Corner Gas on WGN Chicago and are addicted - but then we love Red Green too. The ensemble cast has a subtlety and timing usually associated with the better Britcoms. I'm surprised to read that Canadians prefer the crap that comes up from south of the border when clearly they have plenty of talent at home. You'd watch According to Jim over Corner Gas? Too many slap shots to the head by the sound of that."

• I'm thankful that every time I get feeling that I'm too negative, there's a ready example waiting to show me that, shit, son, I'm not even close to how low can you go? (Check out any of the boards where anonymous idiots bitch about the CBC if you don't believe me.)
  
  
• I'm thankful that I just got to mail off my absentee ballot voting for Barack Obama for President of the United States, and that it looks like it might actually mean something.
  
  
• I'm thankful that every once in a while, even though I've mostly been turning down story editing work, I get to read a script by a friend that actually excites me with its possibilities, and reminds me why I love screenwriting. It's nice to read a script and feel that rush of possibility. Where'd you go?
  
  
• I'm thankful that in a precarious business, I've worked hard enough and been lucky enough to make a little bit of money and buy my parents a decent TV.
  
  
• I'm not thankful about having to deal with Rogers customer service. But who is?
  
  
• I'm thankful for an agent who returns my calls, even though that's the way it should work, I know. But still.
  
  
• I'm thankful that the Reform-a-tories withdrew that stupid provision in Bill C10, and that people like Mark Leiren-Young can write summations that are so much more clear-headed than Harper's inane mixed-Noah's Ark metaphors. No matter what happens Tuesday, there will be some of us that they'll have to kill by looking us in the eye. I'm talking to you, sweaterhead. You're a punk.
  
  
• I'm thankful that This Hour Has 22 Minutes is back, and sharp, and funny. And I was thankful for that even before I got a nice note from Geri Hall, Ms. Avery Adams. Hubba!
  
  
• I'm thankful for other people who understand why culture, and homegrown TV, is important. Whichever way things ultimately go, we fought a good fight.
  
  
• Finally, I'm thankful for every joke that gets through, and every minute of finished film I don't hate, and every note that goes into a script with my name on it that makes me look smarter and cleverer, and for the opportunity to do the thing that I always wanted to do. And for all my readers, weirdoes and lurkers that you are, I'm thankful for you too.
  

How

AWESOME IS IT to work with Patrick McKenna and Grace Park? And to sit back and watch Jonas Chernick make you laugh? And to watch James McGowan say so much with the most minimal look?

Pretty awesome, I must say. Pretty, pretty, pretty awesome, indeed.

Wasn't That a Rally?

EARLIER TODAY on the set of The Border, Nazneen Contractor (Sgt. Layla Hourani) did a double take when she saw me sitting in the boardroom set. "You were here this morning," she said, "and you're here now, but an hour ago I was in my trailer and you were on Citytv, live."

Um. Yeah.

Big arts rally. Big crowd. Good passion. Some speeches. Wind me up and I really do just go.

The great Cory Kinney provided this collage:



For my part, I was gratified to see the Writer Mafia representin -- not just the hardworking Maureen Parker, Kelly Lynne Ashton, Terry, Tannis, David Kinahan and all from the guild, but also Peter Mohan, and Shelley Eriksen in her smart cocktail dress. And James Hurst, Little Mosque's Robbie Sheridan, Playback "next 25'er" Vera Santamaria, my colleagues Janet MacLean, Greg Nelson and Sarah Dodd from The Border, and many many more.

Here's a scratchy video of Eric Peterson and me, courtesy Jennifer Smith.



There's coverage of the rally here, and here. And look, Jill Golick got my good side, courtesy of the fine pictures of Will Pascoe.

Here's my quote in the Canadian Press article:

Personal turmoil brought on by a difficult economy will have Canadians turning to their culture more than ever before, added Denis McGrath, a screenwriter for the TV show, "The Border."

"I think we all understand that times are tough and ... that traditionally is exactly when society turns to the comfort that storytelling provides, that's when we do our most important work," he said.

"Sharing stories in words, in images, on stage, in dance, in music; this is how we think, this is how we learn to be Canadian."

I'm so tired I can't even boldface this post. Another fourteen hour day tomorrow. Til later, then. If you came out, thanks. Vote culture on the 14th.

Best.

Sometimes You Win One

A WEEK BEFORE the Canadian Federal Election, and the Conservatives have finally released their platform. Details are here, and here, but the important thing from an Arts point of view is that the censorious, industry-crippling portion of Bill C10 will not be reintroduced.

I don't know if there's any other way to spin this than this: we won.

The Conservatives thought they were going to ride on the back of increased Quebec support to a majority. But their anti-culture baiting has had a deleterious effect in the part of the country that actually venerates and fiercely supports homegrown culture.

Is it too little too late to bring their fortunes back? I must say, it's quite an interesting turnaround. Guess we'll see.

Meanwhile, if you're in Toronto tomorrow around lunchtime, why not come help keep the heat on, and help make culture an election issue. At 11:30 there will be a rally outside the CBC building on Front Street.


I'll be popping over from set of my last ep of The Border to give one of the (hopefully mercifully short) speeches. Truth to power, my friends. Sometimes it works. Come on out and show how ordinary Canadians populate our cultural industries.

And be sure to say 'hi.'

Notes from a Read Through

BY THE TIME you get to the read through, when you're a writer in production, you're pretty pooped. The script has long since stopped making sense to you. There are distinct stages to this. There's the early draft where you might have had some half-baked things that hadn't really gelled, but had some hopes for. Then notes sharpen that and make it more distinctive. Other people have stuff to pile on. Things aren't clear, can they be clearer? This line, what does it mean again? And you dutifully copy it all down. Somewhere between the WHITE and the PINK draft there can be a danger zone, where you're asked to make changes that at first seem innocuous, but that are secret little logic time bombs waiting to detonate in your script.

You know the script better than anyone, at this point. Even though in this case, there hasn't been a lot of time for me to get the draft from notion to script, I've still been thinking about it for months. You timeline out scenes, figure out the logic, put a thread forward and back and see how it resonates. And then sometimes someone says, "well I think you can just do this," and you agree, and then you find yourself driving to the drugstore for Advil at the precise moment it hits you why you can't do that.

The next stage is when you start fearing you've overreacted the other way -- that you're resisting and being obstreperous for no good reason. Toward the end of my current script, a plot comes together, and one of the other writers wanted to remove one element. I thought it couldn't come out but I was trying, trying to get it and asked the writers to walk me through it. And when they did, in the end, I realized they were right. Poof. It's out.

So you have to defend your stuff so it won't be compromised except when you really need to compromise because you're too close to the script and don't see how the simplication being floated actually clarifies the line through your narrative.

Whoo. And you wonder why experience matters, and why new writers having their own shows isn't maybe the best idear?

But back to the read through. So that's the mindset you're bringing to this puppy: you've had a million and one little things, little changes, production driven, story driven, and the words are now a big pile of mush on the plate in front of you.

And then the shiny faces of the actors appear, with all their good lookingness and rangy energy. And they come in and put it on its feet, and lo and behold, that does two things at once:

At the precise moment they take your script away from you, they also give it back.

Never again will it be words on a page. It'll be what it's meant to be -- blueprints for a performance. But it's the first breath of that performance that breathes meaning back into the words for you. It's a nice trade.

I love the read through. It's a wonderful time, hearing the show read aloud. You hear the torturous constructions that somehow slipped through, where you have some poor performer hissing like a cobra through a sea of esses, or unintentional rhymes or rhythms. The first couple of shows I staffed, there weren't read throughs. It makes a big difference. It really does. Yup, it's a pain in the ass for the A.D.'s to arrange, and it's not ideal to give up a lunch break -- but it pays dividends in spades by making the script better, looser, and more real. Cutting the read through for the sake of expediency is like cutting quality control. Why spend all that money if you're going to be cavalier right from the start?

So someone reads the descriptions, eliding the boring or tech-y bits, and you distribute the minor parts, and then you flip the script open and people begin to read. And you sit back, pen poised to strike, and watch it come alive.

Occasionally an actor adlibs, and you dutifully copy down their alts, while scowling cause they changed a line. (Cause that's what you're supposed to do.) Later you will revise and include all the best stuff they came up with, grudgingly, knowing that the folks at home think they make it all up themselves anyway.

It's nice to hear laughs during the read through. It adds to the energy; makes you feel good. At the same time, this is the final graveyard of where your not-quite-working jokes go to die. Very sad. It never had a chance. Skkkrik, goes the pen. It's out. Let's rewrite the line.

Then there are the specific, random moments. You like to think of yourself as a smartypants, oh yes, you do. Then Mr. Jonas Chernick comes up to you and cavalierly points out that that uber-casual reference you dropped in to the Davros Economic Forum probably should be Davos. Davros, in fact, is the guy who invented the Daleks on Doctor Who. You nod and smile, horrified that you made a Doctor Who reference unintentionally which might indicate to people that you like Doctor Who, which is the furthest thing from the truth. And you think for a moment whether maybe you should actually say that but then, to be fair, you would probably have to qualify that by saying you have watched and do enjoy the Russell T. Davies reboot, and Torchwood's a pretty good spinoff, and okay, okay, maybe you watched Tom Baker for a bit, but fuck, you were a kid, and that does not make you a Doctor Who fan, okay? And yeah, you decide it's probably best not to say anything, so you thank Mr. Jonas Chernick for his diligent actor research and hope he enjoys the new scene where he has to root around in a filthy dumpster.

That's coming in the GREENS, Chernick. You're welcome.

About halfway through, you look around the table and you really take stock of what a great group of writers and actors are there before you. You realize that in one episode, besides the great regular cast, you get to write words that will be said by Grace Park, Patrick McKenna, and Nicholas Campbell. Jesus, you think to yourself. Three years ago you couldn't imagine writing for any of those actors. And now, there's all three in the same ep.

The reading's over. People jump up. Some are heading back to set. They need the room to light for a scene this afternoon. The Executive Producer suggests you do final notes sitting outside on a unseasonably warm October day. So you do, sun shining down and reflecting on the water, brilliant skyline in the B.G. And the meeting is loose, and the lines come fast and the changes are small, and fun, and precise. And the script makes sense to you again. And there goes a sailboat. And now there's a breeze, and everything everybody says is funny, and for the first time you can remember in a while, you're at work and completely relaxed.

And you know what? Tomorrow may bring a new world of B.S. and compromise and strange little hiccups and difficulties, but for now, it's not such a bad way to make a living, is it?

And the best part? Another script: Done. Now it's the Director's script.

And so it goes.

One Shakes One's Head, and Tries Not to Bang It

THERE ARE THINGS that amuse, or vex one -- not in a big, "oi I am vexed" kind of way, nor in a "I am so delightfully amused that it makes me feel groovy" sort of way. No, these are low key, Canadian sorts of amusements, just perfect for a Monday in October.

First, let us visit a plug for The Border on Torontoist today. Their amusing TV columnist (and sometime Q-Tube Team Associate) Christopher Bird, writes what has got to be the most Canadian plug I have ever, ever read:

The Border has been back for a couple of weeks now and it is still pretty good in its competent, Canadian way. Televisualist does not watch it as a matter of course, but every so often sits down to watch a couple of Tivoed episodes, and it never fails to entertain us moderately. So this is our low-key, relaxed recommendation of the show. (CBC, 9 p.m.)

So, there you go. Christopher, thank you ever so much for that mention today, and thank you also for being a member of a very desirable demographic. If you could clone yourself and get a Nielsen box, the CBC would be very happy. Also, if you could please befriend two women between the ages of 25 to 54 and have them watch (uh, hang on...I'm just getting word, um...yes... preferably closer to 25,) that would really be super, thanks.

Secondly, if you've got a PVR you're probably aware of the little blurbs that come up when you cycle through the menu. I was quite amused to see this yesterday when I was setting up to record my episode tonight (CBC, 9pm)

The Border: CBC 9-10 P.M.: An international terrorist targets a cartoonist in Toronto.

I know what you're thinking, "has Family Circus finally gone too far?" But no. Boiling down plot elements to loglines is a bit of a glib gift, especially when you're supposed to have twists and turns in a show.

What's funny, of course, besides the fact that it's about as "grabby" as, well, a turnip, that logline would be like taking an episode of Law & Order that was about, oh, I don't know, a society murder related to Hormone Replacement Therapy gone wrong and describing it as "The detectives interview a Korean Grocer."

Ah well. Live and loin.

For all I know, we might have supplied this to the cable co's. For all I know somewhere in the dark past I might have even read this and approved it with the old thumbs up. All I'm trying to say is, last night at 11:30, it was pretty hilarious. But it's not exactly representative of the show.

Finally, here's a short behind the scenes for Ep. 2. If you feel like it, tune in The Border tonight and let me know what you think. And if you come back to this space in the next couple days, I'll be talking about what I learned writing that episode, and what I think I could maybe have done better.

Now, I'm off to a read through for Episode 12. Enjoy the beautiful fall day.