Friday, Jul 4, 2008
Making dueling-pundit shows more civil is a ticket to nowhere. What we need to see is Bob Novak in leopard-skin tights and a well-oiled Paul Begala.
Nov 13, 2004 | In what was no doubt intended as a modest proposal, Los Angeles Times Op-Ed page editor Michael Kinsley last week suggested a bit of kinder, gentler political TV to salve the wounds of our fractious times. After tweaking Jon Stewart for taking himself too seriously when he appeared on CNN's "Crossfire," Kinsley, a former "Crossfire" commentator himself, made his pitch (one he claims that CNN and others have declined).
"The idea, in a word, 'Cease-Fire,'" wrote Kinsley, who edited Slate and the New Republic before joining the Times. "You get your politicians or your experts or your interest-group representatives, and instead of poking them with a stick to widen their disagreement, you nudge and bully and cajole them toward some kind of common ground. It sounds goody-goody, I know, but the intention would be more Judge Judy than Bill Moyers."
In television, alas, the road to ratings hell is paved with goody-goody intentions (imagine Judge Judy Woodruff). While Stewart was probably right when he said that the right-left, Jib-Jab formula of "Crossfire" was "hurting America," he is probably mistaken if he thinks its viewers hunger for a more elevated level of discourse. While record numbers of viewers tuned into the generally substance-laden presidential debates, with the third one beating the baseball playoffs nationwide, fans of shows like "Crossfire" seem every bit as partisan as the show's hosts. They're guys (mostly) who find C-SPAN too wonky but Fox News too one-sided. They aren't interested in elevating the level of discourse. On "Crossfire," it's all about the level of discord -- and audiences want to turn it up to 11.
Let's go to the tape for a show that aired Nov. 5.
Tucker Carlson: "Three days after the presidential election, it is clear that it was not the war on terror, but the issue of what we're calling moral values that drove President Bush and other Republicans to victory this week. In the end, in other words, most Democrats just don't want Barbra Streisand in charge of their lives. [Laughter] Democrats had no idea."
Paul Begala: "Well, Democrats do need to do a better job of talking about their values. But shouldn't Republicans do a better job of actually living by theirs?" [Cheering and applause] "If I hear one more, one more, sanctimonious Republican working on his third divorce lecture me about my values, I'm going to smack him."
Yeah, baby! And that was from one of our guys. While "Crossfire" was mildly annoying back in Kinsley's day (when he locked lances with such neocon Orcs as Morton Kondracke), it now resembles nothing more than World Wrestling Entertainment's popular "Smackdown." Heroes and villains are invoked by both sides to predictable audience reaction: Hillary gets hisses on the right, Ashcroft guarantees catcalls from the left (I doubt Alberto Gonzales will garner the same sort of reaction, but give him time). Bad guys and good guys alike commit blatant fouls -- mentioning Viagra whenever Bob Dole comes up; reminding viewers why Bush had the Oval Office cleaned so thoroughly after Clinton. It's all the equivalent of hitting your opponent with a metal folding chair, and the audience loves it.
The guys on the right even have their own costumes: Robert Novak has been sporting that black suit and grisly demeanor for so long his nickname should be The Undertaker. (If only the name weren't already taken by a longtime wrestling villain, "the innovator of Inferno Matches, Casket Matches, and, of course, the famed Hell in the Cell," according to the WWE site.) Kid Carlson, with his bowtie and mop-top, plays youthful ward to Novak's dark prince, trying hard to do the unflappable thing that Silent Bob learned from Darth Vader, though The Kid too often seems to get his suspenders in a bunch.
As pure theater, the Democratic side doesn't fare as well. Sure, James Carville has an irascible persona familiar to voters and viewers alike (dyslexic, dyspeptic and sometimes quite funny) and he even comes with a handle, The Ragin' Cajun, which CNN employed in a lame attempt to hype the show in the manner of a boxing card this summer. But he doesn't have an outfit. And he's married to a Republican, a high priestess in the church of Cheney at that, which to me would be like learning that Eliot Ness played cards with Frank Nitti. And poor Paul Begala doesn't seem to have anything going for him. He looks exactly like what he is, a Democratic apparatchik (both he and Carville worked for Clinton and later advised the Kerry campaign -- and look where that got the senator), and has no nickname that I know of. Plus he lets Tucker get under his skin, acting more peevish than his old boss on the South Beach diet.
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