The scene was straightforward enough: Upstart Saskatchewan Premier Tommy Douglas taking on the establishment with revolutionary legislation that would prevent banks from foreclosing on destitute farmers.
Not so fast, the spunky premier is told, the CBC won't give airtime to anyone about "to criticize the federal government." Twenty years after Tommy Douglas's death, the CBC was still denying him airtime.
But not, mercifully, forever. Prairie Giant: The Tommy Douglas Story, the four-hour miniseries that was bumped from its originally scheduled broadcast so that it wouldn't interfere with the recent federal election, will finally be shown tomorrow and Monday.
The people, the CBC appears to have decided, are now far enough removed from the voting booth to be reminded of a Canadian politician with integrity, a politician driven to bring about genuine change, a politician capable of moving oratory, a politician with -- how long has it been? -- genuine wit.
John N. Smith, the Montreal filmmaker and director of this luminous miniseries, still seethes when reminded of the decision to keep his film away from the election.
"I was horrified," he says. "I reacted with absolute outrage." What galled Smith was that he was chosen for the project in part because of his great success for CBC with The Boys of St. Vincent (1992), a controversial examination of priests and pedophilia that became a long, and successful, legal battle in defence of freedom of expression.
"If this could happen for this reason, who is to say next time it couldn't be somewhere else for some other reason? To me, this was the thin edge of the wedge." While Smith was somewhat mollified by CBC's decision to reschedule, his preference would have been for the series to run as planned at the time of the election call.
It is difficult to comprehend the hold Tommy Douglas has on this country. Slight, bespectacled and remembered for, of all things, legislation -- the 40-hour work week, government auto insurance, North America's first bill of rights, hospitalization -- Douglas was selected more than a year back as "the Greatest Canadian" in a contest run by the same CBC that bumped him in afterlife.
He was, arguably, the least known of the finalists beyond Canada's borders, the others in the top 10 being Terry Fox, Pierre Trudeau, Sir Frederick Banting, David Suzuki, Lester Pearson, Don Cherry, Sir John A. Macdonald, Alexander Graham Bell and Wayne Gretzky.
In fact, to younger Canadians, his story has faded dramatically. Michael Therriault, the 32-year-old lead actor in the miniseries, had never even heard of Douglas when the part came around.
Today, Therriault would agree. The young Shakespearean actor, with no previous film experience, immersed himself in Douglas's character to a point where he is now encyclopedic on the topic. He plays the part magnificently, the passion burning through but not, curiously, with the very distinctive sing-songy and clipped manner of speaking Douglas had.
The odd time, in speeches, the actor rings like the original -- saying "me-di-cal care" in the Regina legislature -- but for the most part Therriault's voice is his own. He can, on the other hand, perfectly mimic Douglas, but Smith dissuaded him of following that route, convinced the mimicking was getting in the way of the acting. "He was 'parroting' too much," says Smith.
The series covers the Saskatchewan years -- the arrival of Douglas as a Baptist minister, his relationship with wife Irma (nicely played by Kristen Booth), the 1931 Estevan miners' strike, Tommy's politicization, his five majority governments, the bitter doctors' strike and the birth of medicare -- and is shot mostly on location with genuine Saskatchewan faces and equally realistic Saskatchewan light.
It is not a portrayal to everyone's liking -- Douglas's daughter Shirley, the original force behind the film, departed after "creative differences" with the script -- but it is a fascinating history lesson for those who don't know the story and a welcome reminder for those who do.
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