Sometimes I enjoy a film so much that I go back and read the book from whence it came. One such film is "Being There," based on the novel of the same name by Jerzey Kosinski and featuring outstanding performances by Peter Sellers and Shirley MacLaine. It is the story of Chance the gardener (a/k/a Chauncey Gardiner), a dim-witted household servant living on his wealthy benefactor's estate near Washington, D.C. After his benefactor's death, Chance is discovered in his quarters and mistaken for a well-heeled, intelligent man himself. What little Chance understands about the outside world he learned from television, and now having to leave the only home he ever knew, he ventures into the unknown world, where his simple remarks are comically misinterpreted as wise metaphors about life. Through a series of chance encounters and false impressions, he rises from obscurity to television celebrity and ultimately to consideration as a potential candidate for Presidency of the United States.
"Being There" is at once funny and incisive. It posits a culture where even the least qualified person can rise to national and, potentially, worldwide prominence. And the vehicle that takes him there is the most powerful of all: television.
Since 1979 when the film was released, television has changed dramatically. One such change is the advent of Reality TV. There now are many shows that purport to present real people in real situations to millions of viewers who follow faithfully to see and hear the mundane and often idiotic situations, thoughts and opinions of the protagonists. Of course, what makes Reality TV entertaining is that it is not real at all. Much of it is scripted and performed with actors who know that they are on camera and who play the camera lens for every dollar that it's worth. At least that's my impression of it, as someone who doesn't "like to watch," to coin a phrase from Sellers' film character.
One show I rarely watched (and probably never an entire episode) was "The Apprentice," with Donald Trump. It was a vehicle for a self-proclaimed billionaire, who attributes some of his success to having taken four companies into bankruptcy, to interview and bully contestants vying for the prize of running one of his companies. "You're fired!" has become a catchphrase of American media now entirely associated with Mr. Trump. And the success of that television show, along with all the riches the man has accrued, has now launched him into a run for the Presidency, a run that so far has achieved a surprising degree of success.
It is surprising because it is hard to take Trump seriously. He presents no political credentials, no qualifications for governing, no specific plans or policies (unless building a wall between the U.S. and Mexico can be considered a specific plan). Instead of "You're fired," he now uses other catchphrases to stir his viewers, like "it's time to get things done," and other vague platitudes. And he continues to bully those around him, especially the media about whom he cries foul whenever they confront him with his own past statements. The thought of Donald Trump running the country, with his finger on the button of nuclear annihilation, should make all of us want to run for the hills. And yet a sizeable proportion of the Republican base is taken by his vacuous, tough guy television persona.
It is impossible to think about Trump without bringing to mind Ronald Reagan, although the comparison is not fair to the latter. Reagan too was a product of the entertainment industry, having played major roles in film and television before transforming himself into a politician. But unlike Trump, Reagan was serious about governing. He spent at least two decades toiling in the fields, including two terms as Governor of California, before taking his first run at the Presidency. Trump has no comparable experience in any branch of government, nor any real credentials in matters of public policy, but rather argues that his success at enriching himself through his own companies qualifies him for the nation's highest office. It doesn't.
The success Trump has so far experienced is attributable to the strength of his television persona and his appeal to Americans' basest instincts. In Trump's world, bluster and bravado substitute for discourse and engagement. He believes he can bully his way to the top of the political heap the way he has done in his own narrow business domain. And he does so by scapegoating immigrants, women and the media, all of whom some percentage of the American populace love to hate. It is good television and good political theater, but it is not good leadership. Any one of the other Republican candidates would be a better President than Donald Trump, and yet he will continue to rage on until Republican voters stop him.
The early success of Trump's candidacy says less about the candidate than it does about the American electorate, and that is what is most disturbing. After all, who can blame a public figure for riding a popular wave as far as it will take him? Trump, though unqualified, is no fool. In some ways, he is a modern day P.T. Barnum, although apparently lacking the qualities that led Barnum to accomplish good through public service. Like Barnum, he understands that some segment of the American public can be seduced through pure showmanship. And he certainly is putting on a show.
John Kennedy was the first American President to have won office by understanding the power of television. Let us hope that Donald Trump is not the next. I would rather vote for Chauncey Gardiner.
"Being There" is at once funny and incisive. It posits a culture where even the least qualified person can rise to national and, potentially, worldwide prominence. And the vehicle that takes him there is the most powerful of all: television.
Since 1979 when the film was released, television has changed dramatically. One such change is the advent of Reality TV. There now are many shows that purport to present real people in real situations to millions of viewers who follow faithfully to see and hear the mundane and often idiotic situations, thoughts and opinions of the protagonists. Of course, what makes Reality TV entertaining is that it is not real at all. Much of it is scripted and performed with actors who know that they are on camera and who play the camera lens for every dollar that it's worth. At least that's my impression of it, as someone who doesn't "like to watch," to coin a phrase from Sellers' film character.
One show I rarely watched (and probably never an entire episode) was "The Apprentice," with Donald Trump. It was a vehicle for a self-proclaimed billionaire, who attributes some of his success to having taken four companies into bankruptcy, to interview and bully contestants vying for the prize of running one of his companies. "You're fired!" has become a catchphrase of American media now entirely associated with Mr. Trump. And the success of that television show, along with all the riches the man has accrued, has now launched him into a run for the Presidency, a run that so far has achieved a surprising degree of success.
It is surprising because it is hard to take Trump seriously. He presents no political credentials, no qualifications for governing, no specific plans or policies (unless building a wall between the U.S. and Mexico can be considered a specific plan). Instead of "You're fired," he now uses other catchphrases to stir his viewers, like "it's time to get things done," and other vague platitudes. And he continues to bully those around him, especially the media about whom he cries foul whenever they confront him with his own past statements. The thought of Donald Trump running the country, with his finger on the button of nuclear annihilation, should make all of us want to run for the hills. And yet a sizeable proportion of the Republican base is taken by his vacuous, tough guy television persona.
It is impossible to think about Trump without bringing to mind Ronald Reagan, although the comparison is not fair to the latter. Reagan too was a product of the entertainment industry, having played major roles in film and television before transforming himself into a politician. But unlike Trump, Reagan was serious about governing. He spent at least two decades toiling in the fields, including two terms as Governor of California, before taking his first run at the Presidency. Trump has no comparable experience in any branch of government, nor any real credentials in matters of public policy, but rather argues that his success at enriching himself through his own companies qualifies him for the nation's highest office. It doesn't.
The success Trump has so far experienced is attributable to the strength of his television persona and his appeal to Americans' basest instincts. In Trump's world, bluster and bravado substitute for discourse and engagement. He believes he can bully his way to the top of the political heap the way he has done in his own narrow business domain. And he does so by scapegoating immigrants, women and the media, all of whom some percentage of the American populace love to hate. It is good television and good political theater, but it is not good leadership. Any one of the other Republican candidates would be a better President than Donald Trump, and yet he will continue to rage on until Republican voters stop him.
The early success of Trump's candidacy says less about the candidate than it does about the American electorate, and that is what is most disturbing. After all, who can blame a public figure for riding a popular wave as far as it will take him? Trump, though unqualified, is no fool. In some ways, he is a modern day P.T. Barnum, although apparently lacking the qualities that led Barnum to accomplish good through public service. Like Barnum, he understands that some segment of the American public can be seduced through pure showmanship. And he certainly is putting on a show.
John Kennedy was the first American President to have won office by understanding the power of television. Let us hope that Donald Trump is not the next. I would rather vote for Chauncey Gardiner.
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