Government by Theater Kids

We look at the role of performance in government going back to the Egyptians, Akkadians and fast forwarding to FDR.  

Transcript

Government by Theater Kids

January 2026

“All the World’s a Stage” 

Shakespeare, As You Like It, Act II, Scene VII

“American politics is theatre. There is a frightening emotionalism at national conventions.” Historian Robert Dallek

“The State of the Union has become, under presidents of both parties, a political pep rally degrading to everyone. The judiciary and uniformed military should never attend.”

George F. Will

Living in Utah, especially outside of Park City, and being a cinephile, I am well aware of the Sundance Film Festival.  Yes, I think the event is chock-a-block full of movies espousing liberal platitudes.  After all, the thing was founded by the late Robert Redford, not exactly a rock-ribbed conservative himself.  Yet it is a major film festival in my back yard (for now, more on that later). 

For the 2026 version, I have seen four premieres, one of which is called The Musical. This film features a disgruntled middle school drama teacher who undermines his school’s chances at a California blue ribbon by producing a musical meant to upset the sensibilities of various players, especially the Principal, his supposed rival for the affections of a comely fellow teacher.  The fact that the protagonist is a toxic loser undermines the premise. But this is not a film review.  Rather, at the Sundance premiere of The Musical, the director and the main actors were joined on the stage by the six to seven kids who played the drama’s teachers cast in the movie.  

Because an actor’s job is to mouth others’ words and to convey others’ actions, they are often awkward when speaking for themselves.  Even Rob Lowe, who played the principal in the movie and, as a game show host, needs to be impromptu funny, sometimes struggled to articulate his vision for the movie and his role.  

Not so the kids.  And I do not mean kids like a 25-year-old (a kid to me) or even a 17-year-old.  No, these kids were between 11 and 13 years old.  So, here they are, talking to an audience of 2,500, and they seem as if they’re conversing over a slice of pepperoni at California Pizza Kitchen.  One talked about how her YouTube channel prepped her for the role.  Another explained how he nailed his first audition.  They were poised, articulate, and funny.  And I find this a bit alarming.  When I was 12 and in the company of adults, I was of the seen but not heard category.  Not that I would have had that much to say to them.   And in front of an audience of 2,500 strangers, all adults? Is this some Generation Alpha thing where kids, now being the center of attention, are comfortable in front of massive audiences?  

But then I realized that these were not normal people.  These were, as they themselves noted, theater kids.  Rob Lowe himself talked about being a theater kid.  So did the director of the film, Giselle Bonilla.  And full disclosure: for three years in high school, I, too, was a theater kid, getting two leads and five supporting roles across seven productions.  

However, theater is not just performance, certainly not in movies.  You know all of those categories in the Oscars that people wade through to get to best actress?  Sound editing, cinematography, and costume? That is movie-making as well.  And arguably the most important aspect of producing a film, more important than which actor plays which part, is the writing, the script – adapted or original.  Sure, we remember Marlon Brando as the Godfather, but what do we really remember?  Those words. “A man who doesn’t spend time with his family can never be a real man.” Or “I’m gonna make him an offer he can’t refuse.” Sure, coming from Brando, that had extra impact, but I can see a lot of actors nailing those lines.  But I cannot see even Marlon Brando making Vito Corleone into such an icon without the right words.  Can you name great actors in terrible movies?  How about Brando in The Brave, Don Juan DeMarco, or The Island of Dr. Moreau?  Memorable, right? Ah no. 

And though I dropped the theater thing after high school, my career in marketing could be called adjacent.  It was my job to communicate, in often 4-second increments, the value of a company’s offerings to a targeted audience utilizing the right platforms.  But in my career, do you know who was not as theatrical?  The people building the products and services that needed to be superior to anything else in the market. The operations people who build the stuff I marketed.  The finance department, the lawyers, or IT.  Not much theater in that.  A successful business is in the execution of a million small, and some large, details.  The images, the theater provided by marketing, come after the work, not before, and only work if the rest of the stuff is locked down. This applies to making movies and to government as well.  

And here I come to my point, and thanks for hanging in there, valued listener. So where does theater fit into government?  We can go back to the beginning for the theatrics, which in some cases were inextricably linked to monarchy, the most common form of government for about 96% of recorded history.  

When Pharaoh Khufu (also known by his Greek name, Cheops) built the Great Pyramid of Giza as his tomb, during the 4th Dynasty of Egypt’s Old Kingdom, around 2550 BC, why was it so big?  Because it was in essence a prop, a symbol of the might not just of Khufu’s kingdom, but of himself.  The Great Pyramid cannot irrigate a field, fend off an invasion, or deter a plague of locusts. It just looks cool.  Of course, the build-outs of Khufu and, later, another pyramid built by his son Khafre, bankrupted the dynasty, just as other historical monuments like the Taj Mahal and Versailles bankrupted the kingdoms of those times.  

Another ancient kingdom, one of my favorites, is the Akkadians, possibly the first true empire.  A relic from that time, the “Mask of Sargon” (I love that name) refers to a famous, life-sized bronze head, discovered in Nineveh, Iraq, dating to the Akkadian Empire (c. 2300 BC), a masterpiece of ancient art, likely depicting either Sargon the Great or his grandson Naram-Sin, notable for its realistic detail and inlaid eyes (now missing).  It is not a perfect specimen because it has been mutilated, possibly by 7th-century Babylonians.   

Sargon is depicted wearing traditional Mesopotamian royal attire, characterized by a kaunakes (flounced) garment, a large decorative belt, and a distinct hairstyle with a bun. His appearance, as seen on his victory stele, is defined by a curly, braided beard and hair, representing heroic masculinity and divine, imperial power. 

Why all of this stuff?  Sargon had the power, the armies, the cities.  But part of his reign, his kingship, and any part of his persona as ruler was the theater. Like any performer, he wore a costume.  And what was the point of a 7th century Babylonians marring such a brilliant work of art?  It was their counter performance.  But all rulers have costumes of one sort or another. From that point to this (British Royals today are almost always well-dressed; you do not see Prince William in a dirty tee, nor Kate Windsor sporting Daisy Dukes, though not certain I would protest that outfit (but I digress).  The point is they are performing a role, that of dignity personified, above the mass of unwashed plebeians.  And yet that is monarchy, and we are not that, right?  Not quite.

When George Washington was first painted by Charles Wilson Peale in 1772, it was not in shirt sleeves nor even in civilian garb.  Rather, it was in the uniform of a Colonel in the VA militia.  And keep in mind that this was three years before the Revolution.  Washington is not looking directly at the artist, like some oil version of a selfie, but off into the distance, with a smile of utter confidence and certitude.  The painting depicts a performance, as do all subsequent Washington portraits by Peale, Joseph Wright, John Trumbull, and, arguably, the most famous of all, Gilbert Stuart.  

From Andrew Jackson’s “old hickory” persona, Lincoln’s stovepipe hats, and Teddy Roosevelt cosplaying a frontier rogue and Rough Rider (he was actually born into a vastly wealthy New York City family), writing, performance, and costume were all part of the presidency.  Yet it was truly in the age of modern media that the concept of politician as performer began to crowd out the nasty business of devising and executing policy through a collaboration with Congress.  

I think Franklin Delano Roosevelt’s “the only thing we have to fear is fear itself” is banal without context.  What does that actually mean?  So it is okay to be afraid of losing a job or mass crop failures but just do not be afraid of … fear? But that does not change the fact that the line resonated because of the words around it.  Delivered on March 4, 1933 (the day of his inauguration) address it was master class in political performance: “This great Nation will endure as it has endured, will revive and will prosper.”  Only then does he come to the famous line, “So, first of all, let me assert my firm belief that the only thing we have to fear is fear itself—nameless, unreasoning, unjustified terror which paralyzes needed efforts to convert retreat into advance. In every dark hour of our national life, a leadership of frankness and vigor has met with that understanding and support of the people themselves which is essential to victory. I am convinced that you will again give that support to leadership in these critical days.”

FDR was not initially noted as a great orator because, unlike his cousin Teddy, he did not possess the same level of bombast. No Daniel Webster with the ability to shake the rafters was the lack of FDR oration.  But with the power of a microphone and the ability to project his conversational, yet uber-confident voice through it into millions of homes, it was perfect. If he had been yelling as others before him, his performance on the radio would have failed.  

Now I am the guy who argues the entire New Deal is smoke and mirrors – all performance.  It did not end the depression, and I believe that the American people would not have been as susceptible to autocracy as places like Spain, Italy, and Germany.  Yet the Revolution did not happen under Roosevelt, and the New Deal, for good and (I think almost entirely) ill, was a comprehensive program with a million details and working parts.  

Which again (thanks for the patience) brings me to my final point.  A politician’s performance is important.  But without the substance, it is ultimately an actor with bad writing, poor lighting, garbled sound, distracting costumes, and grainy camera work.  And that is the Trump administration today.  It is a bunch of theater kids who do not understand how theater, movies, business, or government actually work.  

Trump himself would never delight in the title of theater kid, but that is who he is.  He named buildings, businesses, even steaks, after himself.  He loved doing press junkets and appearing on magazine covers.  His relentless drive for movie cameos, Howard Stern interviews, and hosting SNL, the limelight is never bright enough.  I think his views on tariffs and immigration are sincere policy goals he has held for fifty years. And he has been Israel’s best friend.  Aside from those things, his presidency is more of a platform for fame, similar to his reality TV show The Apprentice.  He was not trying to create a new class of hungry entrepreneurs like the contemporary show Shark Tank. He wanted a platform for the role he had been playing for 50 years—tough, successful businessman.  For the refutation of that persona, please see my written essay on my Substack site.  

And the presidency? What better theatrical stage to accommodate a “look at me” attitude than the leader of the free world?  

Trump has always lived in a self-constructed reality TV program.  What is different in his 2nd term is the presence of an ensemble of theater kids.  James Mattis spent 40 years in the army.  Rex Tillerson ran Exxon.  Steve Mnuchin was a Hollywood player but definitely well behind the scenes.  John Kelly was his original choice for the Department of Homeland Security, and then there was his number two, Mike Pence.  

Now compare Pete Hegseth, a former Fox News host, or Tulsi Gabbard, a former Democrat with a penchant for workout videos.  RFK Jr, once a rabid far-left environmental lawyer, was as much a sucker for a camera as Trump himself.  Even the supposed serious people, like an ex-Governor of South Dakota, coveted being up on stage.  How else to explain Department of Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem donning fatigues and a baseball cap as if she were going in with the first wave to take on machine gun-wielding M13 members?  ICE Barbie or Cosplay GI Jane, indeed.  And this VP, JD Vance, wrote an autobiography, the ultimate look at me production, in his late 20s.  

What we are not seeing is the work on the lighting, the sound editing, and getting the camera angle just right.  And the script sucks.  We are not getting a comprehensive, well-thought-out, well-executed policy in well, anything.  

Let’s take one example: arguably one of the top reasons Trump became only the second man to reach the White House after losing reelection: immigration. His approach has been ad hoc, and his people far more concerned with the appearance of progress, than actual progress. The tragedies in Minnesota are a microcosm of this.  I think that had Renee Good and Alex Pretti, two activists killed at an ICE site protesting immigrant detentions and deportations, exercised a little common sense, as in not directly intervening in law enforcement activities, they would both be alive.  That said, I can also argue that the lack of training among ICE officers, or their general attitude, was equally to blame for the two incidents.  Maybe Noem should eschew the cameras a bit more and spend time with whoever is supposed to be in charge of training ICE officers in dealing with a sometimes-hostile civilian citizenry.  

The same applies to RFK Jr: Howard Lutnick, Pam Biondi, Pete Hegseth, and the rest of the Cabinet divas.  And for Pete’s sake, Trump, against any human normalcy, seems to like Stephen Miller.  But if he wants even an ice cube’s chance in hell of keeping the house, keep Miller off the media.  Miller is the creepy wannabe theater kid who, through lack of talent and general unlikability, could never get any role in any production except the chorus.  But instead of contributing helpfully to the play or musical, he sits in the audience and heckles the cast. 

Of course, as noted, these Cabinet kids, though part of the production, always know who the lead is.  Watch any interview to gauge how many times they say “The President,” a term Trump relishes, to gauge their current level of sycophancy.  

And of course, this is not just the Trump administration.  Arguably, the worst theater kid from the Biden years was the first lady. Nobody elected her to anything, but boy, did we get her in our face.  From the “doctor” naming demand to the magazine covers to the “Vote” dresses. Not even Nancy Reagan, an ex-actress, relished the spotlight more that Jill Biden.  You even have her praise of the most powerful man in the world after the 2024 debate disaster that seemed more like mommy’s pride that junior could name five state capitals while Joe Biden stood there like a man, wondering who stole his tapioca pudding.  “Joe, you did such a great job, you answered every question, you knew all the facts.”  It has been nearly two years, and it is still cringe, and would be funny except the doddering fool she was addressing had access to nuclear codes.    

And not just the executive.  Everyone in America has name recognition of AOC, Ilhan Omar, Bernie Sanders, Liz Warren, or the now retired Marjorie Tayler Greene, but do you know of their significant legislative accomplishments?  You do not because there are none.  Congress is as much of a platform as Instagram and whatever MSNBC now calls itself.  In fact, MTG did not retire as some contest because she got on the wrong side of Trump.  A little ass-kissing and you’re back, as Marco Rubio (once little Marco) has proven.  Rather, she realized she can make so much more sweet, sweet cash on a podcast, giving speeches, or writing crap books.  In other words, trade in the fake performance for real performances.   

I am again going to go through the LIST:

Deficit of $1.8 trillion

Debt of $38 trillion

Payouts, every year, of $600 billion to service this debt

Affordability issues 

Immigration issues

Trade issues 

Despite the highest payout per student, mediocre educational output

China is on the verge of invading Taiwan, maker of 60% of all chips in the world, among other Chinese aggressions

War in the Middle East and Eastern Europe

Etc.

Performers alone cannot solve this.  We need people who like the places where stuff gets done, and less time seeking that spotlight. 

After nearly 50 years, Sundance is leaving Park City, UT, for a more lucrative location.  I am not as bumming about this as my wife.  She has more patience for the 90-minute wait times, crowd jostling, and progressive messages like mentioning native American tribes who were once in the same location during the Rutherford B. Hayes administration, and all to see a movie that, odds are, will be cinematic mediocrity.  There have been gems, and I highly recommend Thelma, Flora and Sons, and this year’s The Tuner.  But there has been more excrement in my Sundance Easter eggs than delicious candies.  So, I will bid adieu to the festival and the theater kids.  Who else would I like to see leave town? The ones in Washington, D.C. I would like it if all the performers made way for the doers who fix things behind the scenes.  

Those theater kids on the stage at Sundance were funny and cute – but you would not want them running your government.