Nothing General About It

by Maurice Benard

  A longtime viewer who suffers from depression once told me that it helps her when she turns on the TV and I’m there, because she knows I have bipolar and struggle like she does and that if I can go to work, she can go to work. I try to remember that and keep on showing up, but during times like this one it’s difficult.

  During all this time, Paula was sick and still doing what she always does, taking care of me and everyone else. It was months and months, a blur of doctor appointments and medicine and tests and waiting. Always waiting for word that she would be okay. When she started losing her hair and gaining weight from the medication, she stressed about that and threw herself even more into keeping busy with work and everything else.

  I couldn’t make her understand that no matter what, she still took my breath away, in every sense of the word. She always will.

  More than ever, I really appreciated my friends during that time—particularly Donna, who had consistently made herself available as my emotional support. She talked me down many days, when my mind started going to the dark place, imagining life without Paula. Donna made me feel like things would be okay, and I think all my work on my mental health over the years helped me guide the kids through the cancer scare. We all view Paula as being indestructible, and I’m proud of the kids because they handled it so well. They didn’t even entertain the possibility of her not getting better.

  Me, well, my thoughts went to the worst-case scenario.

  It helped to have another friend join the show.

  Stephen A. Smith, who is a commentator on ESPN’s First Take, was back in a new recurring role as Sonny’s security expert, Brick Smith. I first met Stephen when he tweeted that he had loved General Hospital since watching it as a kid with his grandmother. His cohosts, Max Kellerman and Molly Qerim, surprised him one day by bringing me on the show. But that wasn’t the only surprise—I came armed with a scene from General Hospital and challenged him to read it with me. He was so good the producers asked him to come on General Hospital in a guest role. Talk about charisma, that guy’s got it, and then some. Each time he’s on the show, they give him more and more to do.

  By the fall of 2016, I had been offered the role of a cop, Detective Alvarez, in the Lifetime thriller A Lover Betrayed, which shot on election eve in Los Angeles. I liked playing the good guy for a change. Everyone was glued to the election results between scenes to see who would be the new President, assuming it would be the first female President in history, and we were all stunned that it went the other way.

  I was also part of the inaugural Deconstructing Stigma: A Change in Thought Can Change a Life campaign, which is an ambitious project featuring a 235-foot gallery in Boston’s Logan International Airport between Terminals B and C with wall-sized photographs of people and their own words about their mental health journey to educate the public and change hearts and minds about those who have been diagnosed with bipolar and other mental health disorders. McLean Hospital, the largest psychiatric affiliate of Harvard Medical School, collaborated with Logan International Airport as well as the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention, the International OCD Foundation, the Massachusetts Association for Mental Health, the National Alliance of Mental Illness, and Project 375 to develop the first Deconstructing Stigma campaign, which also included the deconstructingstigma.org website and a coffee table book, which reached millions of people in 2017, and plans are under way to install similar exhibits at other airports. When you actually walk through the airport and see the faces of everyday people next to famous faces, all sharing the same stories in the hopes of destigmatizing mental illness, it’s more powerful than you can imagine.

  Not long after, I got a call one day from Ryûhei Kitamura, a notable Japanese director, for a role in a feature film called Nightmare Cinema that was shooting in February 2017. Now, I’m not big on horror movies and I hadn’t been interested in doing one, but this was an interesting concept because it was several small movies within one larger movie. But the real catch was that Mickey Rourke, who was an idol of mine ever since I’d seen him in Diner, was playing a role that spanned all of them.

  Each segment also had different cool directors, including Alejandro Brugués, Joe Dante, Mick Garris, David Slade, and Ryûhei, who was helming the segment entitled Mashit, which centers around a priest, Father Benedict. Steve Bauer was originally cast in the role, but his mom had just passed away and he understandably had to pull out of the film. The director wanted to meet, so we set up a time and we hit it off immediately, and the next day they offered me the role of Father Benedict. I relished playing something completely different from all the roles I’d done so far, and my own journey with God and the devil made it even more fascinating, but I always get the sense that I’m the soap guy coming in and they think I’m less than or not good. That first day I know I have to prove their misconception is wrong and I do, I show them I can do it in one take.

  I went to rehearse the first scene dressed as the monsignor, and believe me, when you put on that priest outfit you really do feel differently and it impacts how you move. I also flashed to that iconic movie that had scared me so much as a child, and it was hard to believe I was playing a priest doing an exorcism in a movie after The Exorcist had terrified me so much. When Mickey didn’t show up, Ryûhei explained Mickey’s a method actor and there would be no rehearsal and since I’m a method actor, too, I was good with that.

  Eventually Mickey came on set wearing a long leather coat with no shirt, and let me tell you, that guy is buff.

  “What scene is this?” he asked, then he looked at me. “Is this the kid I’m working with?”

  “No, he’s the priest,” the director responded.

  I have to admit I was a little nervous working with someone I respected so much, so I focused on the scene, which put my character in harm’s way . . . to put it mildly. Mickey’s character is vicious and evil and Mickey was equally intent; he never breaks character for a beat. We did a second take, then a third, and Mickey grabbed my face and hit me really hard, but when Ryûhei yelled, “Cut!” instantly Mickey transformed into a concerned, caring guy.

  “You all right, man?” he asked. “Was that too hard?” I shook my head no, and he extended his hand. “Hi, I’m Mickey Rourke,” he said with a smile. Although he just couldn’t talk to or deal with me as his character, he ended up being so nice to me.

  After I shot the film, I took part in the seventy-fifth anniversary celebration of Didi Hirsch Mental Services at the Erasing the Stigma Awards, presenting the Leadership Award to writer/director Paul Dalio, whose film Touched with Fire was inspired by his own experience. It explores the relationship between mental illness and creativity via two young characters with bipolar who fall in love after they are hospitalized. Judy Collins, who lost her son to suicide, and Anna Akana were also honored that day.

  Although I’m always there to support Didi Hirsch Services, my wish and hope is that one day there will be no need for the Erasing the Stigma Awards. I pray for the day that I won’t get a call to be a presenter or receive another trophy for educating people about what it’s like to live with bipolar, because one day I hope we completely eradicate the stigma that torments people with mental illness.

  Another wish—and one that came true—was that the doctors declared Paula cancer-free. The long, long period of waiting through almost two years of appointments and tests and more tests finally came to an end. I’ll never forget that day as long as I live. It’s like the darkest cloud that I could ever imagine had lifted. I’ve never been so happy, so relieved, so thankful.

  Having to take thyroid medicine for the rest of her life is a hefty price to pay, and Paula sometimes experiences discomfort, but you’d never know it—she is unstoppable and plows right on through life without missing a beat. She really is incredible.

  God only knows what I’d be without her.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The Godfather Waltz

  There was more to celebrate. The year 2018 marked my twenty-fif
th anniversary on General Hospital, and what felt like a lifetime since I had stood on the set at the beginning, hearing voices. It had been decades since I, without medication, had had a full-blown mental breakdown.

  So much had changed in my head and heart and life.

  I had evolved from the macho guy who made bad choices. I had married my soul mate. I had repaired the damaged relationship with my father and become a father myself. I had learned to accept my disease and manage it with meds so I wouldn’t have breakdowns. I had faced my demons and learned a lot about myself in therapy. I had found my voice.

  I had also learned that what you want and what you need are different. I had started out obsessed with becoming Al Pacino, being a movie star, finding fame, fortune. Career success and awards aside, I had found that the real purpose for me on earth is teaching young actors and sharing my story about mental health with others—and using the voice I’d discovered to erase the stigma. It gives me a deep sense of satisfaction, more than any role I’ve ever gotten, more than any award bestowed.

  I wasn’t the only one who had changed over the years. Sonny had changed a lot, too.

  One day Frank said to me, “You’re gonna sing.”

  I laughed. “Sonny don’t sing,” I said emphatically.

  But Frank continued, “It’s for Mike. He won’t be able to remember the words and you’re going to finish the song.”

  Sonny’s father, Mike, had returned to town and sadly started showing signs of Alzheimer’s. Max Gail took over the role the amazing Ron Hale had played for sixteen years before leaving the show.

  How could I say no to Frank’s request? Sonny wouldn’t.

  It turned out Sonny wasn’t singing at the famed Nurses’ Ball fans look forward to every year, where the cast members showcase their singing and dancing skills and AIDS awareness also takes the stage. He was re-creating a memory for his father in a club where Mike used to sing, to help him hang on to his memories. You can always convince me to do it if it’s a good story—and this one was a really good story.

  Working with Max stirred up a lot emotionally for me from the moment he auditioned. He showed up with long hair and a beard, but from the minute we started reading the scene I felt a deep bond and I knew. At the end he kissed me on the forehead and I cried.

  After he left, Frank said, “He’s Mike.”

  I said to Frank, “I can’t do this.”

  Frank looked at me and said gently, “You have to.” He knew why it was emotional for me. Aside from the devastating Alzheimer’s story line that would wrench us all for the next year, once the long hair and beard were gone, everything about Max was my dad—they could have gotten the hat, the trousers, the jacket, all of it out of my dad’s closet.

  Right then, things were tough with my own father. H.J. called to report that Dad had been falling; he thought the house we had grown up in was just too much for my parents, too many steps and too much space for them to handle alone. So we started talking to them about selling the house and moving. At first my father didn’t want to. Giving up everything you know and all that independence is hard. I understood his resistance.

  While we were having these discussions, I was reliving some of those same themes in scenes at work about aging and losing independence and healing old wounds between father and son when Mike moved in with Sonny and Carly. One particular scene almost broke me. When Mike has to tell Sonny he’s ready to go live in the memory facility, I started crying—it was that ugly crying, and I just couldn’t control myself, so we had to stop the scene and shoot it later.

  Max brought so many layers to Mike and such humanity and dignity to Mike’s struggle with Alzheimer’s. Since Sonny and Mike had always had a contrary relationship, Carly was the bridge between them in that story line and Laura did an amazing job threading that needle. It was hard to get through a lot of scenes; it hit close to home because I was watching my father, both my parents, age, and that gives you a totally different perspective on life.

  The story line was brilliantly written to showcase the complicated layers of the issue for the person afflicted and everyone who cares about them. As memory starts to fade, it’s terrifying for everyone—there’s anger, denial, and painful but necessary decisions to make. Eventually the terrible day comes when the person who is ill looks at relatives and doesn’t recognize them. The work really educated me, and we got so much love from fans for the story line. So many people told me their stories about watching their loved one slip away, saying the show helped them feel less alone dealing with it. I’m honored that my twenty-fifth year on the show took on an issue that touched so many people. That makes my list of top favorites.

  While I was embroiled in facing the reality of those you love aging on and off the show, I was also watching my constant pal Cain turn into an old man. Once my amazing dog turned ten, he started moving slower and showing signs that he didn’t feel well. We took him to the vet and found out he had a heart problem—fluid kept building up around it. We put him on meds but I couldn’t take him back to Los Angeles with me anymore because the car ride was too long and hard on him. Those rides became so lonely without my buddy riding shotgun.

  Every morning at home in Temecula, I’d sit in my chair and have coffee and Cain would sit with me. One weekday while I was in Los Angeles working, Cain slowly made his way to my chair. Even though he was really sick and it was hard for him to walk far, he labored all the way from the back of the house and lay down by my chair like he was waiting for me.

  And then he was gone.

  When Paula called me to tell me, it hit me harder than any animal I’ve ever lost. I couldn’t bear to run where we used to take our walks or not see Cain waiting at the door with that look on his face when I opened it. Like always, I distracted myself from the pain with work, and as always, Donna was there to talk to and help me gain perspective. She knew how I related to Cain more than I did with most humans, because she was the same way. She knew how hard it was for me to let go.

  Landing my next film not long after was bittersweet, because I got the opportunity through a woman I met by sheer coincidence because of Cain.

  One day years earlier, I was walking Cain and a stranger was so taken with him that she had to stop and flag me down. We started talking, and as it turned out, J.R. Stewart was also a producer. We became friends and she sent me many scripts over the years, the most recent for the movie Equal Standard, starring Ice-T.

  Even though I had major anxiety the night before, I got on the plane to New York in June 2018 for the shoot in Queens. I loved the director and it was a nice role, but I remember it was so hot on the jail set I thought I was going to have heatstroke.

  As the months went by, I still missed Cain every day, so I was relieved to get another great role outside of General Hospital to keep my mind busy. My agent called and said Lifetime wanted me to audition for the role of John Gotti in Victoria Gotti: My Father’s Daughter, based on Victoria’s best-selling memoir. Victoria wrote the script and was also the executive producer, so living up to her father’s image would be an interesting challenge, I thought. Who wouldn’t want a chance at that role?

  To audition, since I was in Los Angeles at the apartment alone, I had to hold the camera to tape myself saying the lines, which is always tricky, but I felt good about the result and sent it to Paula. After she watched it, she called me.

  “Honey, you need the accent,” she advised.

  “I ain’t doing more accent.” After we argued about that for some time, I finally did a reading making the accent strong, and Paula sent the audition tape in to New York. The next day they hired me. I heard later, however, that it was actually Victoria’s mother who pushed to cast me.

  As the story goes, Victoria asked her mother, who she’s named after, “Who can play my father?”

  Her mother said, “Only one person can do that. It’s the guy who plays Sonny on General Hospital.”

  As it turns out, not only was Victoria’s mother a fan of the show, but s
he had sent me a letter years ago, talking about her son being bipolar and all the struggles they’d had, and I had written her back to encourage her. She still has that letter, which means a lot to me.

  After they called to tell me I was going to play the role of Gotti, I only had forty-eight hours to age ten years, gain weight, and get a Bronx accent, so you can guess what I did—I ate as much as I could and started worrying about the accent. There isn’t a lot of film out there with John Gotti speaking, but I did find a clip of his voice on YouTube, which I listened to over and over.

  We flew from beautiful eighty degrees August weather in Los Angeles to Canada, and when we landed it was freezing outside. I immediately met with the costume designer to get Gotti’s wardrobe down, and the minute I started trying on all these great clothes and wearing them I couldn’t help but carry myself differently. Like a mobster. Like Gotti.

  As I was walking to the bathroom, a small woman with a huge smile greeted me. “Hi, what’s your name?”

  I introduced myself. “Hi, I’m Maurice.”

  “I’m Catherine Cyran, I’m your director.” She smiled again.

  Catherine is dynamite in a tiny package and we clicked from the get-go. It was the same with Chelsea Frei, who played Victoria, and Gotti’s kids—Zoey Siewert, who was young Victoria; Micaela Nyland as young Angel; and Andre Anthony as John Gotti, Jr. We all bonded and they did a fabulous job. The first thing Chelsea told me was that she watches General Hospital and so does her mom, and the kids echoed that same sentiment.

  I spent a lot of time in Victoria’s trailer gathering as much firsthand information about her family as I could. Her husband was bipolar and we talked about that, and I also gleaned so many details about her father. The first thing she said to me, emphatically, was, “Don’t play my dad like Tony Soprano but like Michael Corleone.”