I WAS UNDERWHELMED BY THE INAUGURATION
Sure, the peaceful transition of power is a hallmark of a democracy. And sure, there was quite a lot of drama around Barack Obama's assumption of the American presidency. But James C Taylor, a theatre critic, found it all a bit ho-hum, frankly ...Special to MORE INTELLIGENT LIFE
Western theatre and Western democracy, it is often pointed out—more often by thespians than politicians—are inseparable. Both were invented in Athens within 30 years of each other, back in the early fifth century BC. And last week this comparison was unavoidable, as it is every four years in America.
The transition of power is the backbone of the dramatic canon, whether we speak of Sophocles’ Oedipus slaying his father, Shakespeare’s Lear trying to hand off the reigns of power to his daughters or Schiller’s Mary Stuart, whose claim to the throne poses a mortal threat to her cousin, Queen Elizabeth.
If future dramatists are to immortalise our era, the climax of this play took place on November 4th 2008. Naturally the drama would be far more exciting if it involved a guillotine or a duel, perhaps a battlefield. But Americans must settle for the ballot box. The inauguration then is the denouement. It's the equivalent of Fortinbras showing up at the end of "Hamlet": the play can’t end without it, but the real meat came long before the moment when he clears his throat.
So why then was last week’s inauguration of President Obama the biggest theatrical event in American history? The National Park Service and the Washington Post have reported that 1.8m people flocked to Washington, DC for the occasion. That’s 24-times more people than will attend the Super Bowl this weekend (despite it being an event that boasts genuine suspense). The closest comparison would be the yearly total of people who go to see a big Broadway show, such as "Wicked"—the consummately popular musical that features singing, dancing and expensive stage effects.
But really, I was underwhelmed by the spectacle. Sixteen years ago, I attended the first Clinton inauguration. It wasn’t anywhere near the size of this year’s event (and it had nowhere near the level of expectation), but in terms of sheer theatricality, it delivered more. Maya Angelou’s poem and her pregnant delivery of the line “Good Morning” served as an effective overture to the ceremony. There was nothing comparable in novelty this time around (the poem by Elizabeth Alexander, which came after Obama’s speech, felt like an afterthought. Practically everyone on the Mall started leaving once she began her recitation). Clinton's speech also included a great sound-byte: “There is nothing wrong with America that cannot be cured by what is right with America.” And then of course at the inaugural balls the man himself played the saxophone.
At the Western States Ball this year—an 11,000-plus-guest party where Barack Obama spoke and he and his wife danced to Etta James—a veteran Washington reporter told me, “if this isn’t political theatre, I don’t know what is. It doesn’t get any bigger than this.” Perhaps. And yet the actual events, the swearing in, the parade, the balls, seemed almost deliberately understated. Politics and show-business have been so closely intertwined since Ronald Reagan, our first thespian-in-chief, that I expected more.
Reagan’s state funeral supposedly had a script that was 300 pages long; Clinton’s entrance at the 2000 Democratic Convention was modelled on his favourite films; and we won’t even mention the Hollywood theatrics behind Bush’s landing on an aircraft carrier at sunset to say “Mission Accomplished.”
Yet the closest thing to old-fashioned stagecraft at Obama's inauguration was the countless individual flags that thousands of people were waving on the mall. Waving flags, like fake snow or dry ice, are an easy way for a director to make a dull stage seem busy. Easy and effective.
There were no fireworks, no fighter planes streaking over the capital, perfectly timed to the crescendo of poetic soliloquy. There wasn’t even any snow. Those who came to Washington to experience a Blockbuster—grand, visual flourishes and long, emotional monologues—must have felt quietly disappointed. Unless, of course, they turned their eyes to the crowd.
As a theatre critic, this was the only part of the inauguration where there was suspense, spontaneity, drama. Simple events, such as queuing up in line, getting on a Metro train, or even walking across a street, became epic events. Some spectators were turned out in their finest clothing, which added to the pageantry.
The underlying tension to all this was: would the people erupt? Would the stress of so many people, with so many hopes and expectations for this day, boil over? Would there be violence? Tragedy?
In an ending that no writer could render believably, this epic day came to a close with no bloodshed. I never saw anyone's fists clench, or heard a voice raised. At one point late in the day, a large woman dressed to the nines tripped and knocked over four other inaugural revellers. Just a slight hiccup, brushed off. No one even demanded an apology.
It is a mistake for a drama critic to review the audience instead of the words and actions onstage. But at the great, strange and historic performance last week, the real drama, the real change, the real catharsis took place in the crowds. Democracy, like theatre, requires ceremony and stagecraft, yet the true magic of both traditions is found in the people who believe in them. It is this belief, this engagement with the process, that lends weight and meaning to what takes place on stage.
Picture credit: usagov (via Flickr)
(James C. Taylor is the host of "Theatre Talk", a radio programme on KCRW. He writes about theatre and opera for the Los Angeles Times and Opera Magazine. His last piece for More Intelligent Life was about Puccini's "La Rondine".)
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