In putting together our live theatrical events, we try to keep impressions to a minimum. Of course, we deal with politics and politicians, and a certain amount of impersonation always makes it in. In City Under Siege, we met Zell Miller and Arnold Schwarzenegger. George W. Bush, Laura Bush, and Donald Rumsfeld were all represented on stage in Burning Bush, and they return in Moral Value Meal (May 2 and 3 at Urban Stages in New York; get your tickets now!). But the new show presents a challenge I never expected to face. I play Rick Santorum.
In these NERO FIDDLED shows, everyone plays multiple roles. But I know that when I'm hitting my marks as a Capitol Hill aide, or as Donald Rumsfeld, the Santorum scene is around the corner, waiting for me. That sketch, unambiguously titled "Santorum," sprang from the nimble mind of Amanda Sisk, and when I read it for the first time, I was convulsed with laughter. But as I realized that the role would be mine, a deep concern settled in. How the hell do you play Rick Santorum?
For all the crazed fundamentalism of Santorum's social politics, his demeanor is consistently flat and bland. He has very few tics for an impressionist to latch onto. He doesn't have a unique style of diction or rhetoric. There's not much to his voice. I could tell that in order to play the part, I was going to have to dig deep into the character's psyche. I would have to violate the unspoken NERO FIDDLED rule that we take the politics more seriously than the theatre. I would have to become the character.
I considered following Robert de Niro's Raging Bull example and gaining weight for the role, but Amanda reminded me that Santorum is no heavier than I. I considered following Dustin Hoffman's Marathon Man example and running around in circles for a while, but Amanda reminded me that Santorum is not out of breath. So I immersed myself in research, internalizing the details of the senator's biography. I studied video clips, including this recent gem in which Santorum explains why the people of western Europe have "nothing to live for":
"I, believe it or not, believe faith is incredibly strong in America. If you look at the rest of the world, and the struggles that they're having -- particularly in western Europe, who've just completely abandoned faith, completely gone to a secular society. Those cultures are dying. People are dying. They're being overrun from overseas. And they have no response. They have nothing to fight for. They have nothing to live for. In this country, we have this vibrant faith, that's on the rebound. More people go to church on Sunday in America than go to all of the sporting events in America held during a year combined."
After watching that clip a few times, I really started to feel like Santorum. I went over to the mirror and was startled to see Rick Santorum staring back at me. "Defending marriage is the ultimate homeland security," I said to my reflection. I thought I had it. But I knew that it was now time to put my act to the truest test -- the scrutiny of an audience. I put on a suit and tie, combed my hair ever so neatly, and set off into the streets of Manhattan, to see how the city responded to Rick.
My first stop was at the bodega a block from my apartment. I walked in, and the man behind the counter thought he recognized me as myself. "Hello, my friend!" he shouted. "All dress up today!"
I just looked at him, with a bland and puzzled expression. "I always wear a suit and tie," I told him. "I'm the third highest-ranking member of the Senate Republican leadership."
Instinctively, I began to gather the items I normally purchase there -- a diet Coke and a bagel with cream cheese. But then I remembered that today I was not Noah Diamond, budding political satirist; I was Senator Rick Santorum. I put down the soda and the bagel and instead decided to get a loaf of Wonder bread and a Jesus candle. When I put these things on the counter and went to pay for them, my friend at the cash register gave me a funny look.
"That's all?" he asked.
"Yes, thank you," I said, forcing a handshake he didn't expect. There was an awkward moment of silence.
"You know, Bob Dole is stumping for me," I said. "Casey says I'm anti-labor, but I'm not anti-labor."
"Okay, boss," said my friend, and then he mumbled something under his breath in a different language. As Santorum, I made a mental note that this guy was probably from one of those countries that had completely abandoned faith, like France, as opposed to one of those faith-based countries, like Saudi Arabia.
Not long after that, I was walking purposefully downtown, thoughtfully munching on my bread and my candle, wondering where the senator might next show his face. I was somewhere in the west twenties when it occurred to me that to test my character choices, I should put my character into an environment which would test him. Glancing around, I settled on a bar across the street. It looked like a comfortable and inviting neighborhood watering hole. It was called Manmeat.
I took a seat at the bar. The bartender was wearing a yellow helmet, suspenders, and no shirt.
"I just want to say," I told him, "that I support and admire the working class, and that I'm honored to live in a country where a construction worker who can't even afford a shirt takes on another job as a bartender, so his wife can stay home with the kids." I asked if he had a light, and he told me that smoking was no longer permitted in New York City bars and restaurants.
"Oh, I don't smoke," I said, taking the matchbook from his hand and lighting my Jesus candle.
"You're from out of town?" the bartender asked me.
"I sure am," I replied. "Virginia. I mean -- Pennsylvania, actually. Well, my children go to school in Virginia. I mean, they go to school at home, which is in Virginia. But we live in Pennsylvania. I'm honored to represent the people of the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania."
"You represent the people of Pennsylvania?" he asked. "Who are you? What's your name?"
"Why, I'm Senator Rick Santorum," I snapped back, with great confidence.
I don't remember anything else that happened that day, but I can tell you two things. First of all, when Moral Value Meal opens on May 2, I will be ready to step out on stage and play this part. And secondly, method acting is dangerous.
