Canada is comedian Mike Myers’s home and native land, and he clearly loves Canada very much. I love Canada, too, even though I am not a Canadian. And the creator of the Wayne’s World and Austin Powers films clearly has two purposes in writing his 2016 book that is titled simply Canada. It is both a memoir and an ode – an autobiographical look back on what might seem an improbable journey to success and fame, and a love song to the home country that he clearly adores.
The first section of the book is titled “True,” and in it Myers sets forth a detail-rich recounting of “A Canadian Childhood.” Myers’s parents were Britons – Liverpudlians who emigrated to Canada after the Second World War, earning the lasting gratitude of their son who dedicates the book to them, adding, “Thanks for choosing Canada.”
Myers also takes pains to note that his British parents’ abiding love of all things British, and the pride they felt when British cultural exports like James Bond films broke big in their adopted Canadian homeland, influenced his later creation of the Austin Powers character.
Looking back at his working-class growing-up years in the Toronto district of Scarborough, Ontario, Myers recalls that “Canada in the 1960’s and ’70’s was a great place to grow up poor. During that time, the social safety net made it so that, while I knew we weren’t rich, I didn’t feel we were poor” (p. 54). He adds that “We had universal health care, which meant that getting sick never meant extra catastrophe. Plus, we had fantastic schools and a low crime rate. We felt safe and secure. It’s one thing to be poor; it’s another thing to be poor and feel unsafe” (p. 55).
An outside observer might note that Scarborough is also the hometown of Jim Carrey, and is where the rock band Barenaked Ladies got their start. That part of the GTA (the Greater Toronto Area) turns out some highly talented people!
Canadians of a certain age will no doubt derive particular pleasure from Myers’s recollections. Myers clearly enjoys, for example, looking back at summertime visits to the Canadian National Exhibition (CNE), at Exhibition Place on Toronto’s Lake Ontario shoreline. Of the exhibition, or “the Ex,” Myers writes that “The CNE was an old fair. Even by the seventies, it looked like it needed a lick of paint. It seemed permanent, but somehow temporary, like a downmarket Disney World representation of the British Empire. But to me it was…exotic, worldly….It was a magic zone where anything could happen” (p. 100). The accompanying colour photos capture well both the run-down tackiness and the improbable magic of “the Ex.”
The second section of Canada is titled “Patriot.” Myers writes with pride of what Canadians of the time referred to as the “Next Great Nation” period. The Expo ’67 world fair in Montreal, established to honour the centenary of Canadian nationhood, was wildly successful. Prime Minister Pierre Trudeau, whose government began in 1968, had a charismatic style that reminded many U.S. observers of John F. Kennedy, and the air of glamour that he and his wife Margaret brought to Ottawa gave rise to the term “Trudeaumania.”
The success of Expo ’67 no doubt contributed to Canada getting its first Major League Baseball team, the Montreal Expos, in 1969. The Canadian Broadcasting Corporation (CBC) established “Canadian Content” rules that guaranteed a certain amount of Canadian programming on the nation’s television sets, and encouraged creative and innovative work by Canadian television performers and producers who frequently didn’t have a lot of money to work with (Myers frequently says, “Thanks, CanCon!”). And in 1972, at a high point of Cold War tensions, Canada played the Soviet Union in ice hockey, in the “Summit Series” – and won. It was, Myers makes clear, a great time to be Canadian.
But the Next Great Nation era “reached its climax at the 1976 Montreal Olympics” – where, Myers ruefully notes, “Canada performed miserably, becoming the only host country in the history of the Olympics not to earn a gold medal” (p. 152). He follows this grim observation by asking, “[H]ad the wave crested? We had come so close. Would Canada ever get a mission statement? An identity?” (p. 153)
These observations about Canadian life are interspersed with a look back at Myers’s career. With a long résumé of parts on CBC programs, Myers eventually made his way into stand-up comedy. And for one of his comedy routines, Myers invented the character of Wayne Campbell – a young man like many Myers had known growing up in Scarborough, and a character that Myers saw as representing, in both Canada and the U.S.A., “a universal, suburban, heavy-metal experience: the same long hair with baseball cap, workie boots, ripped jeans, black concert T-shirts, and the belief that Zep was God” (p. 208).
Myers had crafted the Wayne Campbell character while working at the Second City comedy troupe, first in Toronto and later in Chicago. Given the opportunity to perform at Second City Toronto’s fifteenth anniversary celebration, Myers presented the Wayne Campbell character in one of his sketches, and a seismic shift in North American popular culture quietly began:
I changed into my Wayne costume and took my starting position, which happened to be in the crowd, breaking the fourth wall. The lights came up, drunken stragglers took their seats, and I began performing from the crowd. At first, people thought I was an underage heckler. Then, people started to get it. Then I got my first laugh. Then I took the stage. And then it started to grow. “B” laughs. Then “A” laughs. Then laughs where we had to hold, waiting for the audience to finish. Then everything played. And when the lights went out, there was thunderous applause, cheers, stomps, whistles. It was like a jet taking off. I had fucking killed. I was stunned. (pp. 200-01)
And if that experience was stunning, Myers no doubt felt even more stunned the following day, when Lorne Michaels called him in Chicago and offered him a job as a writer-performer on Saturday Night Live. A couple of tweaks of the Wayne Campbell character and his dramatic situation – making him an American from Aurora, Illinois; giving him and his friend Garth a public-access show on local cable TV – and Wayne’s World was born. Party on! Excellent!
Two Wayne’s World movies, three Austin Powers movies, and many TV comedy sketches later, Myers found himself negotiating the consequences of fame – a picture of him on a game ticket for his beloved Toronto Maple Leafs, a street named after him in Scarborough, a Key to the City of Toronto, a star on Canada’s Walk of Fame, a Canada Post stamp. Myers makes clear how strange he finds it all, and how unpleasant different “famous person” interactions can be.
At the same time, Myers, having long since relocated to the United States of America, found himself attending to Canadian life once again, as the book’s third section, “Love,” makes clear. (“True,” “Patriot,” “Love” – but you had already picked up on the allusion to the Canadian national anthem.) The Quebecois sovereignty vote of 1995 failed, but only by one percentage point. The 2000 death of Pierre Trudeau, Myers says, “underscored my fear that perhaps we had gotten even further away from the promise of the Next Great Nation” (p. 250). The Montreal Expos, whose establishment embodied the hopes of the "Next Great Nation" days, left Canada, relocating to Washington, D.C. And the Conservative Party government of Prime Minister Stephen Harper, with its focus on rolling back the progressive policies of earlier Canadian governments, caused Myers to fear that Canada “had turned into a junior America. America Lite. Diet America. Only without the dynamism of the American Dream” (p. 255).
A couple of high-profile incidents of violence, in a country long renowned for being one of the safest nations on Earth, reinforced Myers’s fears that Canada “would slowly drift into a de facto consumerist suburb of the States” (p. 259), and caused him to support Liberal Party leader Justin Trudeau in Trudeau’s campaign to become Prime Minister of Canada.
Myers clearly likes Prime Minister Trudeau, and approves of his policies. So do I. How you feel about these parts of Myers’s Canada may depend on your own political beliefs. But any Canadian reader – or any reader, from any country, who appreciates Canada’s contributions to the life of the world – is likely to appreciate Myers’s peroration. He expresses his love for Canada, states how happy it makes him when a fellow Canadian greets him – sometimes simply by saying the name of a specific town like “Kamloops [British Columbia]” – and closes by suggesting that “Canada may not have put a man on the moon, but it’s been awfully nice to the man on Earth. And perhaps that will be Canada’s greatest legacy” (p. 276).
Myers’s Canada is not the book to go to for a probing examination of all facets of Canadian life; indeed, Myers fair-mindedly makes clear, in the book's introduction, that he is not going to discuss topics like the Group of Seven painters or the Meech Lake accords (both worth Googling, if not familiar to you). But it is fast-paced, well-illustrated, and pleasant. Myers comes across as thoughtful, modest, and courteous – thoroughly Canadian. Thanking you, Mike, for a most agreeable visit. Go Leafs!