I'd Laugh, But 'Tain't Funny

Richard Cavett's lagniappe in this disquisition on campaign humor (and the lack of it) is his characterization of The Dubster (and fellow Yalie) as

...the capering loon who does soft-shoe in the White House while young Americans are dismembered and splattered in Iraq. Sometimes when he speaks I can forget who he is momentarily and find myself actually pulling for him; probably from misplaced performer empathy. His speechifying has a strong odor of remedial reading about it, combined with an apparent fear that there might be some hard words ahead.

If this is (fair & balanced) snark, so be it.

[x NY Fishwrap]
Candidate, Improve Your Appearance!
By Dick Cavett

Hillary Clinton is just beginning a live speech as I type. And I just failed in my purpose.

I tried to reach the Clinton campaign to suggest that she could get a big, heartwarming laugh if she came onstage wearing a flak jacket.

I’m not sure the sight gag would have guaranteed her the nomination, but a laugh never hurts and is worth a thousand straight lines. And it’s certainly funnier than the leaden, anti-Obama Xerox line someone saddled her with a while back. If that gag came from a staff member, he or she should have been busted to the rank of gofer. Or gofeuse, I suppose.

If I were running a campaign, I’d urge taking the mountain of money reportedly squandered on pizza, coffee and bagels and spending it more wisely — on a talented young comedy writer. Remember Twain’s “Against the assault of laughter nothing can stand”? All candidates should post this on their shaving mirrors. Or make-up mirrors. (This clumsy gender thing has to stop.)

We keep getting articles and reports of how John McCain is adored, cuddled and all but fondled in the back of his bus by his devotees in the press; who are arranged, it sounds like, at his feet before his big, relaxing chair. His ability to create and maintain this camaraderie is surely a vastly valuable thing. One trait those “ink-stained wretches” of the press especially like about him is his candor and what’s been termed his risk-taking frankness and sense of irony. This affection for him may account for why they fail to do him the favor of pointing out how badly he delivers a speech.

By speech, I don’t mean his off-the-cuff appearances holding a hand mike and working the crowd, or his cool, entertaining guest shots with (the help of) Jon Stewart. Those are fine, and at those times you see the thing in him that makes people say he seems genuine and honest — a mensch saying what he believes, a real and intelligent person, as distinct from the vinyl Mitt Romney, or Boob of the Year contest winner — by a landslide — Congressman Steve King from Iowa, with his terrorists-“dancing in the streets”-if-Obama-is-elected line. In short, all the things conveyed by the now so very popular buzzword: authenticity. The newest must for candidates. (How did I get this far without resorting to “sine qua non”?)

I mean those speeches from behind the lectern, center stage, requiring the three teleprompters right, left and center. They are invisible to the audience and are supposed to create the illusion that you are not reading. And they do, when skillfully used. Ronald Reagan went to England with them when they were new. Armed with them and his acting ability he astonished the Brits with what they took to be his spontaneous speaking at length, sans text.

It’s a pleasure to watch Obama’s mastery of the technique. And Clinton — and I didn’t say “even Clinton” — uses it much better than McCain does. And just about everybody does it better than the capering loon who does soft-shoe in the White House while young Americans are dismembered and splattered in Iraq. Sometimes when he speaks I can forget who he is momentarily and find myself actually pulling for him; probably from misplaced performer empathy. His speechifying has a strong odor of remedial reading about it, combined with an apparent fear that there might be some hard words ahead.

But back to McCain. Does something in him rebel at the deception aspect of doing what, when done well, tricks people into saying, “Look at that. Not even using notes”? Our John seems to actually change personalities at the lectern. Something in him tightens. His voice even goes up several notes, and he seems bogus in a way that he never does in other settings. Like an actor stuck with a part he’s not comfortable in.

Politicians, if smart, would hire not just a comedy writer but an acting coach. Years ago, the gifted and classy film actor (and lieutenant commander in the Navy) Robert Montgomery pulled off a miracle in this regard. Hired as a public appearance consultant for the marginally articulate Dwight D. Eisenhower — a former president, should you be among the students who scored so abysmally on that general knowledge test a while back — Montgomery transformed the man.

First he hauled the president out from behind the massive presidential desk from which it was hard not to appear ponderous and had him stand in front of it. Shirtsleeves; no jacket. To cure the rigid, military upright look of a general, he had his illustrious client lean back slightly against the desk (without sitting on it) and cross his arms casually. The actor in Montgomery knew how important stance is to the way you talk.

The success of these seemingly minor adjustments was instant. Suddenly, turgid old President Eisenhower became “Ike.” A genial, avuncular fellow you might like to have over.

Although not quite considered as good an actor as Robert Montgomery was, I could still give McCain a few tips. (Few will ever be as good at it as Obama is. He has mastered the art of public speaking both off the cuff and while seeming not to use the prompter. Watch how rarely he says “uh.”)

If I were ever called in to coach candidates on how to give those awful stand-up speeches, here’s what I would say.

Tip #1. Change all “I wills” and “I shalls” from the speech to “I’ll’; Also, “I haves” and “I ams” to “I’ve” and “I’m,” etc. You’d be surprised how much this cuts down on the oratory tone.

Tip #2. Pretend you are speaking to one person. One single person. Because that’s what everybody is. No one watching or sitting in the audience is an “all of you” or an “everyone” or a “those of you” or a “Hi, everybody,” and no one is a “ladies and gentlemen.” You, out there, are a “you.” So, speaker, think of yourself as being viewed by only two eyes. (Presumably on the same person.) The most magical word you can use, short of a person’s name, is “you.”

The great Arthur Godfrey practiced this invariably. “How are you?” he said, is all-important. “Ladies and gentlemen of the radio audience,” he said, “is bull and reaches no one.” With emphasis on “one.” On radio he had millions of listeners, largely adoring women in the daytime, each convinced he was speaking to her personally. Including my grandmother. (You knew it worked because in a ruthless Nebraska summer, when all the windows were open, I could hear Arthur uninterruptedly as I passed one house after the other.)

Tip #3. I feel almost silly when I do this one, but it works. Grab a bunch of words off the prompter and, instead of staring straight ahead, glance down and to one side as you do — in real life — when thinking just what to say next. Then look back and deliver those snatched-up words to the camera. It works like a charm. (As a beloved childhood magic catalogue of mine used to say — with unintended ambiguity — “We cannot recommend this trick too highly.”)

If I were McCain’s adviser I would shock everyone by having him come out carrying his script, and saying — not “ladies and gentlemen,” as we just learned, but launch right into, “You know, I don’t use these teleprompters very well. I guess I’m just not one of those people who can fool you into thinking I’m making it up as I go along . . . which these things are supposed to do. I don’t even fool myself. I cringe when I watch myself trying to bring off that ‘electronic deception,’ you might call it . . . Anyway, here’s my speech [shows it] and I’m going to read the damn thing to you. Surely I can’t make even that look phony. [slight pause] Can I?” [laughter]

“Dick, what are you trying to do, get John McCain elected?” I hear you cry.
I keep re-liking McCain, because he seems honest. A prince among thieves.

If I were all out for him, though, I’d need to convince myself that his continued pursuit of those twin mirages of his in Iraq — “success” and “victory” — are merely necessary devices to woo the least desirable elements of his party. But I can’t be sure.

That’s why, at the moment, I like somebody else better. I guess I just can’t resist giving helpful tips to a fellow performer.

(Wait till McCain gets the bill for this.)

[The host of “The Dick Cavett Show” — which aired on ABC from 1968 to 1975 and on public television from 1977 to 1982 — Dick Cavett is also the coauthor of two books, Cavett (1974) and Eye on Cavett (1983). He has appeared on Broadway in “Otherwise Engaged” “Into the Woods” and as narrator in “The Rocky Horror Show,” and has made guest appearances in movies and on TV shows including “Forrest Gump” and “The Simpsons.” Mr. Cavett lives in New York City and Montauk, N.Y.]

Copyight © 2008 The New York Times Company

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