Modern Politics: It's a Clown Show

This week we experienced the fifth in a series of GOP presidential debates and though I generally attempt to avoid getting into political quandaries, a friend's Facebook post triggered a set of impressions, so I decided to briefly touch on the topic. Dan wrote:

At this stage I have no political opinions or views to express. It's a giant circus from where I sit. Yet it's a failed circus. We need a new idea. I think a real traveling circus show might provide more structure and coherence as a political party. We should elect academically trained clowns for office. The Mooseburger Clown Arts Camp in Buffalo Minnesota might be a good start for aspiring young statesmen in the midwest. Their slogan is "You will do foolish things, but do them with enthusiasm!" This is more than just a slogan to me; it's a vision statement. This is the type of direction, leadership, and will to power attitude required to restore this once great nation back to its former glory.

Mooseburger Clown Arts Camp is a 6-day intensive clown school designed to meet the needs of people who want to learn to be “real” clowns. America needs YOU. Sign up.

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I found it strange, yet perhaps not really so strange in the context of our modern political landscape, that the substantially cynical Frank Underwood (Kevin Spacey) of House of Cards made an appearance during the debates in a Netflix commercial. If you've never seen it House of Cards is the epitome of cynicism, depicting politicians as greedy buffoons. Though I've watched portions of the series I've never noticed that Frank Underwood's initials were F.U. until I saw in this spot that his campaign slogan is FU '16 along with a website.

This naturally led me to think about Marshall McLuhan's take on the impact of media on the times we live in. It was McLuhan who famously observed that mass media and communication technologies are not neutral inventions but actually change the way we are. The last half century of presidential politics has demonstrated this vividly. The first hint of it came with the Nixon-Kennedy debates during the 1960 election. Twenty years later a "great communicator" was installed in the Oval Office, a man who grew up in Hollywood and knew how to project ideas to the masses.

When one looks at this year's batch of Republican hopefuls one has to wonder, who are these people? Is the media a hall of mirrors that distorts everything? What are these people really like? How can you tell?

I think the 1960 campaign altered the terrain. Elections today are essentially manipulations by handlers. And maybe Dan is right, the best way to prepare for office is to sign up for clown camp.

It reminds me of the heart-wrenching tone in which the Broadway musical presents its poignant hit Send in the Clowns.

What's it all about, Alfie?

Kevin Spacey's House of Cards

Until last week, though I'd heard several people talk about the TV series House of Cards, I myself hadn't ever seen it. Which led me to take out the DVD set for the first season, which I began watching last Tuesday evening. My initial impression was of a tightly written, well-scripted show featuring a major star and a unique device: the lead character's manner of turning to the audience and "letting us in" on what he's thinking or doing, bringing us along on his Inside-the-Beltway power plays.

Now that I've seen six or seven episodes, I feel ready to offer a few observations.

It seems ironic that after watching the first two shows I picked up the March Atlantic magazine and discovered a somewhat scathing review of the show and other shows in an article titled Why the British Are Better at Satire. It begins...

If there was ever an era ripe for political satire in America, the current one displays all the symptoms: rampant dysfunction in Congress; a paralyzed, peevish administration; dynastic ambitions in not one but two families; a surfeit of outsize and frequently cartoonish figures jockeying for space on the national stage. Given the wealth of material so near at hand, I was eagerly anticipating David Fincher’s adaptation of the brilliant 1990 BBC miniseries House of Cards when it debuted on Netflix two years ago. At last we would see biting, eminently British political satire applied to an American milieu.

With Season Three about to begin, it’s safe to say that this hasn’t happened. The U.S. version of House of Cards is sleek and often intriguing, but by now it has made clear that its specialty is melodrama, not satire.

Satire: the use of humor, irony, exaggeration, or ridicule to expose and criticize people's stupidity or vices, particularly in the context of contemporary politics and other topical issues.

Melodrama: a sensational dramatic piece with exaggerated characters and exciting events intended to appeal to the emotions.

In the former, the appeal is to one's wits. The latter strives for an emotional kick.

The very next day after reading The Atlantic piece the local paper featured a story on the show in its A&E section. This piece struck me as more of a puff piece rather than an indictment of the show's shortcomings. House of Cards is getting ready for its third season and the publicity machinery is in play.

On the positive side of the ledger, Kevin Spacey seems to have been born for this role. In some ways he doesn't seem to have changed much since his role as a hard boiled reporter in the Disney film Iron Will which was filmed here in Duluth in 1993. It was his Oscar-winning performance in The Usual Suspects that put him on the map. Other roles in the 90's included the suburban dad in mid-life crisis in American Beauty which resulted in another Oscar, and the cynical publicity hound cop Jack Vincennes in L.A. Confidential. And now he's Frank Underwood, master manipulator in the Machiavellian world of Washington.

The show has a 9.1 rating on imdb.com, so it clearly knows how to connect with audiences. People like seeing things they themselves have never experienced, hence they used to watch shows like "Lifestyles of the Rich & Famous" and now reality shows about cops on the beat. So now, they get yet another show about life inside the Beltway, on Capitol Hill.

Until I read The Atlantic piece I hadn't realized that Frank Underwood's manner of turning toward the audience to bring them along was not original. But then, Shakespeare had done this centuries ago, too. It's called an "aside." Maybe it struck me as original because I don't recall ever having seen it on TV.

Something else that struck me is how loose the standards have become with regard to sexual explicitness. A half century ago Lenny Bruce was brought up on obscenity charges for a monologue titled "To is a Preposition, Come is a Verb." He became a target by not backing down from the edge, by demonstrating the inconsistency and absurdity of then current obscenity laws. Today we have everything placed right out there and in your face.

In Episode 7 (I believe) we find Frank Underwood in a tryst with the young reporter whom he has groomed to be his media mouthpiece. She calls her father to wish him an early father's day blessing as Underwood proceeds to undress her and perform cunnilingus on her. She tells her father she'll "try to come," making other similar statements with double meanings. It's a direct ripoff of a Firesign Theater sketch from the early 1970's. Except in that case it was funny. This isn't funny. And worse, it starts to feel cliche.

The awards this show is receiving ensure that its audience will grow still wider. As for me, it's already starting to make me feel tired. Spacey makes the consummate anti-hero at a time when we could use real heroes. Then again, maybe this is the reality we live in. Politics is a dirty game and we shouldn't pin our hopes on it.  

Iron Will Extras Gather Today For 20 Year Reunion

The original screenplay for Iron Will

Where are they now? Where are the men, women and children who assembled here 20 years ago to re-create a World War I era sled dog race from Winnepeg to St. Paul? The film I'm referring to is Iron Will. 

I know where a few of them are. McKenzie Astin, the boy-hero of the film, will be arriving on a train late this afternoon to join a reunion celebration of the film in a culmination of the Fourth Annual Duluth Superior Film Festival.

Kevin Spacey, the cynical reporter, became the surprising superstar of the pack, rising to win Oscar gold for his roles in The Usual Suspects and American Beauty. Currently he is Francis Underwood in the TV series House of Cards.

Riki McManus, who headed up the local casting for the film's extras and bit parts, is still active in the film business, using her connections to attract films here by making film makers aware of our abundant natural beauty.

And Chuck Frederick is the Opinion page editor for the Duluth News Tribune who wrote a fun editorial yesterday inviting the public to welcome Astin back to our Northland home for a special airing of Iron Will at the Depot's Underground. Astin will arrive at 5:30, Mayor Ness makes a proclamation at 6:00 and after the film we're all invited to a reception in which two of the train cars used in the film will be open for mini-tours.  

Frederick's piece, titled Film fulfills dreams, and not just those of the extras, pretty much summed it up. 

"For a taste — even for just a small taste — of fame, of stardom, of being discovered by Hollywood, we took time off from work and from family, we stuffed ourselves into antique clothing, and we waited hour after long grueling hour, sometimes in frigid cold."

As for me, I got so mesmerized by this experience that I seriously imagined a future in screenwriting. I'd been an extra in The Ballroom Scene, which meant three days of dressing up and dressing down and waiting and killing time in order to obtain fifteen-tenths of a second of fame on the silver screen. I'm a featured silhouette at a table with John Heino, if you know where to look.

This shared experience of being herded like cattle put us in contact with a lot of new and interesting people and many new friendships were formed. I know today precisely how long John and I have been friends. We met there in the holding area. He told stories about his life and dreams, as did many others in that space.

On the third and final day of shooting The Ballroom Scene I met one of the producers of the film, Robert Schwartz, who was formerly from the Twin Cities before breaking for Hollywood. The experience of being in and behind the scenes of a Hollywood films generated an idea for a film, which I pitched to Mr. Schwartz right there on the set.

He and the two men he was standing with laughed, poked fun at me because since I am a nobody it is hard for producers to take any idea serious, but if I were Spielberg the same producers would be all over the idea. I told him my idea of how a Hollywood film in a small town changes the lives of everyone... the title being "The Extras." He said he would read my treatment if I put something together.

Two days after the filming was wrapped, he went back to Hollywood while catching up on two months of mail he called me at my home and told me he'd be interested in seeing the screnplay if I wrote it. He suggested Syd Field's book Screenplay to learn how to write in the screenplay format... and how to think in terms of scenes, etc. (Hot Tip: You want to write a great screenplay? Study Chinatown.)

Long story short, my brother was a film major in college and he agreed to join me in a collaboration. All of his ideas were improvements on my original storyline, and had I listened to him more it would have been a better product in the end, I am certain.

We finished the manuscript by October 1, my deadline, and Mr. Schwartz called me a couple days later. Said it was a very good first effort. Said he wanted me to write a second screenplay but in a different genre this time. I wrote a movie script about a crippled man from Estonia during WW2, a drama with close calls, and lots of nail-biting for the audience. Within a week of submitting this second screenplay Mr. Schwartz called me on the phone, read various passages from my manuscript and said it was quite good, that if I went to Hollywood he would introduce me to people.

The Duluthian piece addressed film's local economic impact.

I've never been that kind of risk taker, had a job here and a family, and reluctantly let go of this role I was aiming for, allowing the pages of my inner script to fly off with the wind. 

I also appeared in the start of the race scene, which was shot on a crisp sunny day while it was twenty degrees below zero. Those kilted bagpipers were quite red-faced after seven takes to "get it right."

Here's a thought I had afterwards. Next time you see a Hollywood film, pay attention to the people who are not the stars. Have you ever noticed them? Not usually, but after being an extra myself, I am always noticing.  Without these "extras" it would be impossible to make most of the movies we see and enjoy.

Extras don¹t have any spoken lines. They simply fill up the set and give the Stars a context. Yet they are indispensable and without them you certainly couldn't have a crowd scene.

One payoff in being part of the film was that for a brief space of time we were all part of something that felt bigger than ourselves. There's a sense in which one extra's presence or absence might appear to make little difference in a film, but we all know the cumulative impact if all the extras were suddenly missing in action.

This feeling of being part of something bigger doesn't have to end when the film is a wrap. We live in the context of a community that has needs and our part is to "show up" and do our part to help make this a better place. We don't have to be stars. From battered women's shelters to food shelves, the need for "extras" is greater than ever. Your role is important, even if you don't have any lines.

Forgive me for moralizing at the end, but this was a Disney film. Maybe I'll see you at the reunion.