Is 'The Donald' Losing His Magic?
Donald Trump is like a fading artist and knows that he is losing his audience. Confused by his decline, hungry to return to glory, he buckles into an old-fashioned act that fewer and fewer people enjoy.
All of that was clearly seen in last week's debate: Trump's favorite comic sparring partner, Joe Biden, was right there, six feet away, but his old buzzing, teasing, and bullying felt flat and unfunny. Now, his campaign team is worried that his magic is gone.
The president will be off the stage for debates and the campaign for a period of time that is still unknown and after testing positive for COVID-19. His fight against the virus and his stay at the Walter Reed Hospital will be brief and his full recovery. This experience, in fact, could cause Trump to reduce his anger that was ugly reflected in Cleveland, or it may simply amplify his anxiety.
As I've written before, Trump has all the makings of an insulting comedian - the tone, the timing, and the tried and tested, previously blunt phraseology ("Lock her [Hillary Clinton]!") That his fans at rallies await with full anticipation. of laughter. But insulting comedy is a dangerous game. To keep audiences entertained, outrage and abuse must constantly escalate until - almost inevitably - a line is crossed and no one laughs.
The president has been building this for some time. In 2015, the Wall Street Journal published a video compilation of the jokes from Trump's first campaign, called "The Art of the Insult." Looking at it now, the act seems cool and the jokes almost tasteful. (Remember "Low Energy Jeb"?) He was confident and cool on the mic, a trained showman who knew he was finding an audience.
But lately, behind the polls, his tone has been feeling nastier. At a rally, Trump spoke at length about the injuries sustained in a riot by MSNBC's Ali Velshi. A few days later, he insisted that Biden was using performance-enhancing drugs for him and that they gave him "a big bang on the ass" before going on stage. Compared to the 2015 version, this stand-up comic Trump routine has a sour taste. A Washington Post headline on Sept. 24 read: "Trump's Rhetoric Is Getting Norer."
If you know anything about comedians, you won't be surprised. Beneath the surface, many stand-ups have a dark side, insulting comedians most of all. They often feel like strangers in school and at home, struggling to be appreciated and taken into account. His saving grace: they somehow found a way to mold that grievance into comedy.
But it takes a lot of hard work and energy to transform hostility into humor. If you happen to meet one of these comedic artists who use insulting jokes at the bar but after the show, you will often see him too exhausted to keep his funny facade on. What you get then is what remains: darkness and complaints about those people who see them and who always have their ordinary lives and their holidays, or how they beat up other comedians for stealing their jokes. And once a career starts to fade, painting a smile on that stage, every night, becomes almost impossible.
That may be where Trump is now with a segment of the public of him. Right after Tuesday night's debate, CBS News polled more than 1,000 people in states where the battle for votes is being fought. They were asked how the debate made them feel. 69% said it left them "upset." But 31 percent, the second most popular response, said they were "entertained."
While it's surprising for someone to describe the debate in those terms, it's also a stark reminder that, from the beginning, many people have been drawn to Trump primarily because of the laughter and name calling. But a third do not win the elections. For comedians, a third don't fill a theater in Las Vegas or a theater in Chicago.
31 percent may mean the actual measure of the president's core base, the die-hard fans who will drive all night to see him stick to the "Crooked Hillary" phrase once again, just like old times. He's a comedian in his twilight, an unstable entertainer who suddenly loses out of sync, someone who just doesn't connect the way he used to.
None of this bodes well for anyone who wants things to change after last Tuesday's debacle (when his jokes and nicknames caused anger rather than grace), but his battle against the coronavirus could change that dynamic, as that contingency it could encourage the president to slow down before spilling an insult or throwing a punch, especially against certain candidates who wear a mask.
But once recovered, he may return to the campaign more furious than ever at lost time and desperate to regain a fickle spotlight. If that happens, last week's debate could soon be seen as a picturesque relic of a much more innocent time, back in September.
