Somewhere Over the Rainbow

What was the most surprising thing about having Morgan Spurlock of Supersize Me fame at our house was that it was at our house. Suddenly, a documentary was taking place within the walls of our property.

Back in the day when I was acting, I remember always thinking, “Acting is so much fun but it would be so much better if I could do it at home.” I sort of got the chance to do that in 1993 when I was living in Martha’s Vineyard doing a couple months of Summerstock. I lived in a hotel on the second floor and right down the hall from my room was the theatre where we performed Lone Star. I just had to walk twenty feet from my bed and I was backstage. I played, of course, the retarded younger brother. It was the final Southern retard in a series of illustrious Southern retards I played throughout my late twenties.

Onward to the present and the taping. An hour and a half before Morgan arrived, entered the producer, Mary, the director/cinematographer, Sandy and a sound guy, Jeff. What immediately took place in our living room was a pissing contest between Mary and Sandy over the location of the interview. Mary, the ever pragmatic producer, already had set in her mind the living room. Sandy, visually inclined, got all jazzed up about our backyard garden.

Being a pragmatist myself, I initially sided with Mary, mostly because her approach was calm and sober. Sandy, a tall and bossy type, was responding to her gut fun...and I don’t like indulging people in their pushy tastes for no other reason than I am afraid they are going to steamroll over me. And clearly, Sandy steamrolled Mary. And I just watched it all happen and said nothing about it because it was so early in the morning, it really wasn't my place and why should I really care? Sandy was not only riding on the joyful adrenalin of her visual choice, she also happened to be right. The back yard was a better place to shoot. It was more wide open. And besides, the one who pushes harder for their way seems to win in any confrontation. Mary lost. Sandy won. I ate a scone.

So, the backyard it was. And after they shot some B roll stuff of Adam and I walking around, gardening, (totally staged and hopefully it won’t ever air), Morgan showed up.

Morgan is tall, thin, nice, friendly, easy to talk with and basically the kind of guy you want to interview you on tape if you are ever going to be interviewed. At first, he had this weird habit of shaking his head a bit and smirking impishly right after he asked a question. I got the sense that he was trying to make me lighten up more, much like an old timey photographer would ask little crying kids to “look at the birdy.” But over time, he stopped the head shake and smile thing, so I came to the conclusion that he was a bit nervous with some sort of tick. Who knows. Adam didn’t notice this behavior at all. So perhaps I dreamed it. But I don’t think so.

The interview was all about our marriage in Oregon, the ultimate voiding of that marriage, our views on gay marriage, the difference between marriage, civil union and domestic partnership, the idea of marriage in religion, homophobia, etc. I cannot say that he asked anything original, nor can I say that we said anything original. I occasionally made a joke. Adam was very engaging. The whole thing was pretty easy.

But what kind of stuck in my craw was this: it was so frigging staged. And the whole thing had no teeth. And we were all adults, so we kept it civil. But frankly, knowing that this is going to air on FX and millions of viewers are going to watch it, I sort of wanted to stand up on my green plastic molded patio chair and yell, “You Fucking Bigots! What the Fuck is Wrong with You?! Don’t You Morons from Mississippi Realize that You have ALWAYS been on the WRONG Side of ANYTHING to do with HUMANITY! YOU DUMB, STUPID FUCKS!” But instead, I found myself saying something like this, when referring to religious views, “Well, you want to respect differences of opinion, however...” I mean, Jesus.

Anyway, it went very smoothly. And it will air sometime in July. I’ll post it when I know the date. So here is the blog about the reality show about some sort of manufactured reality. What a hall of frigging mirrors. No wonder everyone is so bored to death.

But I guess, years from now, when Adam and I are talking to some young, gay whippersnapper couple about to get married in Texas, we can say to them, “We went on television, that’s right, sonnies, television, so you could have the state and FEDERAL right to marry. Did you know that we were the niggers during the Bush administration and that his administration used us to divide the country so they could win the election? Think about that when they’re throwing organic birdseed at you on the Church of Christ steps as you greet all the Republicans who have come to watch you get legally married.”

And they’ll look at us like we’re quaint old fags. And then I’ll say, “But hell. We just did it from our backyard. The real heroes were the Stonewall guys who rioted against the police the night Judy Garland died.” And the twinkies will look at us and ask, “Who’s Judy Garland?” And that’s when Adam and I will have big gay coronaries and die.




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