Lady Parts (24 page)

It juxtaposed a blonde narcissistic Vegas entertainer visiting the most saintly woman in the world. Instead of helping Mother Teresa tend to the poor, she forces her to pose for publicity photos.

We performed together as talk-show host Libby Wolfson and real estate agent and best friend Sue Bopper Simpson; in “The Miracle Worker” as Helen Keller and Annie Sullivan (played by Edith Prickley); as the maid Mojo and her
employer Mrs. MacKay in the soap opera “The Days of the Week”; as two older Jewish sisters in “How Nosy, the Short Haired Terrier Dog, Got His Name”; as Dutch van Dyke and her many unrequited crushes, all played by Catherine, and we sang as Anne Murray and Rita Coolidge in
SCTV’
s Anne Murray special.

The list is endless.

Over the years, the one sketch people ask me about consistently is one I did with Catherine, “English for Beginners.” They ask me how it was created, and here and now, I want to give credit where credit is due. The sketch was originated
by Dan Aykroyd and Valri Bromfield on stage at Toronto’s Second City. Dan played the student; Valri, the teacher. We filmed the sketch for
SCTV
with Catherine as the teacher, now named Lucille Hitzger, and me as the student, a woman of nondescript ethnicity, wearing a winter overcoat and babushka, named Perini Scleroso. Lucille tries desperately to teach Perini common English phrases like “Can you direct me to the hotel?” and Perini tries her best but can only sound out “Can oo eetrac me tu na lo to?” As Lucille gets more and more frustrated, she keeps repeating, “Can you direct me to the hotel?” and Perini keeps repeating “Can oo eetrac me tu na lo to?” until Lucille breaks down and blurts out, “Can oo eetrac me tu na lo to?” There is silence. Perini stares at her for a moment, takes her hand, and says, “Sure, honey. You just go down two blocks. You can’t miss it.”

I like to think that Catherine and I were a good team, we two women who looked out for each other and complemented each other’s talent. We had such creative freedom on
SCTV.
Where else could we have filmed an entire twenty-minute
segment focusing on two middle-aged marginally talented women who write what they think is a groundbreaking feminist musical manifesto, “I’m Taking My Own Head, Screwing It on Right, and No Guy’s Gonna Tell Me That It Ain’t”?

The opening number lyrics included:

As her career after
SCTV
attests, Catherine will not take a job if it does not have meaning to her. She’s discerning and particular and picky, whereas I come from the summer stock mentality—give me a set and a costume and some funny glasses, throw me on stage, and I’ll “put on a show!” It was an honour to work with Catherine, and I continue to be an unwavering fan of hers. It is my dream to one day perform with her in a play on Broadway and have the opportunity to create another dynamic duo, this time on stage. And you can bet I’ll be working my ass off just to keep up with the likes of her.

I’m grateful for the time Rick Moranis and I had together. Rick was an exceptional writer, a visionary. He created the character Gerry Todd, a VJ …
years
before there were VJs. In those early days, Rick would come to the studio with legal pads filled with ideas. He was prolific and had a great sense of television. He knew how to use the camera to make a joke land—how to get a laugh by setting a shot a different way. He was way ahead of his time. And I loved performing and writing the Libby Wolfson scenes when he’d join me as another character. Like Dave Thomas, he would let me shine in a sketch where he didn’t have that many lines. He understood and loved the neuroses of Libby Wolfson, a self-centred woman who for some reason had her own
talk show, on which she consistently turned the conversation back to herself and her many insecurities. So many of the characters we played on
SCTV
were based on people we knew. I created Libby Wolfson and her talk show
You!
from watching Micki Moore, who had her own TV show on CityTV in Toronto during the ’80s. Libby’s set didn’t have chairs. Instead, it was a platform with tons of pillows that she and her guests had to awkwardly sit on.

One of Libby Wolfson’s many neuroses was her obsession with smells. Her talk show always began something like this:

Music: “You Are So Beautiful.”

Libby sits uncomfortably on the many pillows. She speaks directly to the camera.

LIBBY: Is there a cat in here? It’s that male spray thing I don’t like the smell of. What is it, onions? (
She smells her fingers.
) Wait, no, I’m sorry. It’s tabbouleh, serves me right for eating with my fingers.

Rick joined me a few times on the show as the in-house psychiatrist, Sol Rubin.

LIBBY: Dr. Sol Rubin is here to talk about a problem that affects so many women today … women’s problems.

Rick begins to give an overview of women’s issues in the context of modern-day feminism as Libby is distracted, nervously fixing her hair and makeup and smelling her underarms.

She then asks him, “What about weight? You see a lot of women who are fat, right?”

He is perplexed by the question but responds in a professional manner.

DR. SOL RUBIN: Well, I see a lot of women who have compulsive issues. Some women are overweight and some are anorexic.

LIBBY: (
Leans forward.
) You know what? I’d kill to be anorexic for one week, can I tell you that? (
He doesn’t respond.
) Continue.

(
He begins a sentence and Libby yet again cuts him off.
) Why can I not stop eating? You’re a doctor, you should know. If there was a roll there, I’d eat it. Is that not sick?

He tries to reposition himself on the pillows and before he answers, the theme music comes up, prompting Libby to close the show. But she praises him for how enlightening it’s been to have him as a guest.

We knew those characters inside out, and improvising their dialogue was, dare I say, second nature for us. It was also delirious fun working together with Rick as Libby’s boyfriend, businessman Lenny Schectman.

One of my favourite moments in the sketch is a scene with Libby and Lenny at home. Libby is working on “I’m Taking My Own Head, Screwing It on Right, and No Guy’s Gonna Tell Me That It Ain’t.” Lenny is angry with her for spending so much time on her upcoming show. They are in the middle of an argument when Libby suddenly says to Lenny, “Go like this,” gesturing to him to let her smell his breath. He breathes out. “Did you have hot dogs for dinner?” she asks. “Yes,” says Lenny. “Do you have any more?” Libby asks. He tells her there are some in the freezer. They then continue their argument.

We did numerous sketches together, but the Libby scenes with Rick will always be among my favourites.

The late great Harold Ramis, way before he wrote
Caddyshack
and wrote and starred in
Ghostbusters,
was
SCTV’
s head writer for a brief time as we were launching the show. When I think of him, I picture him doing crossword puzzles. It was his way to relax. In between takes, he’d pull out a puzzle and
fill in the blanks with the speed of someone playing tic-tac-toe. I was always slightly intimidated by Harold’s intelligence. I looked up to him. When he moved on to write and perform in movies, it was a great loss for
SCTV.
He brought profound humanity to every piece he wrote and acted in, and I loved him. We all did.

He wrote for me two of my favourite
SCTV
sketches: a commercial for Connie Francis, who was a big star in the ’50s. I was a fan of her film
Where the Boys Are,
and thanks to her Italian heritage, I could look like her convincingly enough to impersonate her. I had noticed that her songs always sounded sad, so Harold wrote a K-tel record ad for Connie, whom we called Connie Franklin. Connie stands alone on a stage with a bright spotlight on her as she sings despondently: