Chicago Sun-Times
May 11, 2012 Friday
MARTIN MANIA;
Veteran comedienne is taking her one-woman show on the road – with
plenty of familiar faces in tow
by MIKE THOMAS. Staff Reporter/[email protected] BY MIKE THOMAS.
Staff Reporter/[email protected]
During her decades-long career Andrea Martin has snared a Tony award,
two Emmys and numerous other honors for her work on stage and screens.
Recent Broadway-goers might remember her Tony-nominated portrayel of
housekeeper Frau Blucher (cue neighing) in Mel Brooks’ hit stage
adaptation of his 1974 film “Young Frankenstein.” As the New York
Times noted in its mixed review of the musical, Martin is “an inspired
comedian.”
But even now, with nothing left to prove and well into her illustrious
run, the 65-year-old would much rather play roles than mahjong.
Acting “just kind of pours out of me,” the former Second City Toronto
cast member and SCTV standout says. “And at the same time I could be
thinking, “People aren’t going to like this,” or “I’m not very good.”
But my body and I don’t know what [else] takes over and that kind of
obliterates those voices that aren’t so healthy. In spite of what I
might be thinking, acting is just a part of my fabric; it’s completely
instinctual. Even if I wanted to stop, I don’t know if I could.”
Martin brings her formidable talent and energy to Up Comedy Club in
Old Town, where she’ll perform her one-woman show “Final Days!
Everything Must Go!!,” May 11-13.
“I wasn’t trying to change the world, nor was I trying to prove
anything about my identity, nor was I trying to reach a cathartic
moment and transform my life,” she says of the roughly year-old
creation, which features stand-up material, musical numbers (ably
propelled by accompanist Seth Rudetsky and including an extended
Broadway montage), an array of characterizations, video clips and
several SCTV sketches. “I wanted this to be about fun and pure
entertainment.”
Martin’s brassy SCTV station manager Edith Prickley – who once issued
an arguably misguided programming edict of “boobs, bums, good-looking
hunky guys and no more sports” – surely would approve.
Question: Should we read anything into the title of your show?
Andrea Martin: Well, it started off as an irreverent poke at my
advanced years. Never was I thinking of retiring. And then I did it a
few times and everybody would say, ‘So when are you retiring?’ Oh, my
God. By then, of course, all the posters had been made, so f— that!
I wasn’t gonna go back and change the posters! The show wasn’t about
me talking about how old I’ve gotten. It was about [the audience]
thinking, ‘That bitch looks good!”
Q. Have you had to fight off the complacency that sometimes comes with success?
AM: God, no. There’s no complacency. It’s a balancing act, isn’t it?
Because you want to be grateful for where you are and not keep on
believing in the myth that the next thing is going to make you into
something you want to be. On the other hand, you want to keep trying
to get that carrot that’s dangling, but you don’t want it to be the
center of your universe. I’m always looking for something else,
opportunities to create.
Q. It’s hard to imagine you don’t feel validated yet.
AM: [laughs] When I’m onstage, I love it. When I’m working, I feel
very validated [internally] and by the reactions the audience gives
me. And then there are those long [fallow] periods where people say,
“So, what are you doing now that you’re retired? When did you get out
of the business?” And then you have to go back and put some Pledge on
your Tony award and remind yourself, ‘Please, God, I don’t want to die
under my headshots and resumes like I heard [movie star] Mary Pickford
did.
Q. How has your Armenian ethnicity influenced the characters you’ve
played and your onstage person a?
AM: I think I have been able to use it. I certainly think Aunt Voula,
in “My Big Fat Greek Wedding,” was modeled after an Armenian woman I
knew who was a professor at UCLA. The old lady in “Candide,” which I
played, was Romanian, so I used some of my background there. In my
show, I talk about my roots and about growing up as an Armenian girl
in Portland, Maine, and never really feeling like I belonged. But I
watched a lot of variety shows when I was growing up – those shows
with Sid Caesar, Ernie Kovacs, Ed Sullivan and Carol Burnett, where I
saw people making faces and being larger than life, really gave me a
sense that there was a place for me.
Q. In an obit about your late businessman father, a friend of his said
he “expected absolute perfection from every one of his employees.” Did
your father also expect that of his children, and you in particular?
AM: He did expect it from me. He expected it less from my younger
sister and brother. My sister still says, “You talk about Mom and Dad
like we had two different sets of parents.”
Q. Someone also remarked on your dad’s “wonderful sense of humor.”
What did you take from him in that department?
AM: Well, my dad loved variety shows. And he loved the Three Stooges
and Laurel and Hardy. He loved physical comedy. We would spend many
Saturdays together watching those TV programs that were run
back-to-back. And I remember just being so – what’s the word? –
titillated by the joy emanating from him. Because he was a very hard
worker, worked round-the-clock trying to build a restaurant and
grocery store empire, so he very seldom let loose.
Q. Are you at all offended when people call you the funniest woman
they’ve ever seen – “woman” being the operative word?
AM: No, that doesn’t bother me at all. I am a woman. I’m fine with
that. I’ve never felt that way, honestly. I’ve never been a feminist
when it comes to comedy. I’ve never felt like the men’s club was
hushing me. I’ve never felt like I couldn’t fit in. I never felt that
I didn’t have a voice. I felt that my comedy was universal and it
neither spoke [specifically] to women nor men, that what’s funny is
funny. And so I never politicized my comedy or my sense of place in
comedy.