The world stands on the brink of nuclear war; even a “limited”
nuclear conflagration will leave 12 million dead in one of the most
densely populated parts of the world. The Pakistani ambassador,
seated spitting distance in front of me, is urgently, and
rationally explaining in her clipped but flawless English why her
country does not subscribe to a “no first strike” policy when it
comes to nuclear weapons. I’m pretty damned interested at this
point (heck, who am I kidding, I’m worried), so it only
makes sense to cut her off in mid-sentence, thank her for her time
and cut to commercial. After all, when we return from the break
we’re going to hear from the U.S. Women’s soccer coach about the
World Cup. As they helpfully point out on tonight’s show, I, along
with 74% of the rest of America, according to USA Today,
have no intention of watching any televised soccer unless more
players start ripping their shirts off.
Such are the vagaries of cable television. After all I couldn’t
have expected much more when I decided to attend a performance of
CNN’s “Crossfire,” the long-running flagship cable news program,
which since being “revamped” in April has been taped in front of a
live audience in an auditorium at George Washington University in
the heart of D.C. When you’re targeting the 18-49 demo, nuclear war
is a real downer — at that point “Crossfire” is just a sick pun,
and it takes extra reserves of fake enthusiasm to put our hands
together and clap our way to commercial, despite the show’s
director barking “applause, applause, applause” from the overhead
speaker.
During the commercial breaks, they cut off the director’s voice
and began pumping obnoxious pop music through the auditorium, which
at one point results in a rather unsettling tableaux — legendary
reporter and curmudgeonly “Crossfire” host Bob Novak having his
makeup touched up while Aerosmith’s “Dude Looks Like a Lady” blares
overhead.
Unfortunately, the Madonna, Moby and Creedence Clearwater
Revival songs that follow aren’t enough to drown out the other
co-host for the evening, Paul Begala, yet another
Clinton-turnspit-cum-journalist. Throughout the breaks, Begala
banters incessantly with the audience with such nervous enthusiasm
that it seems to belie a desperate need for affection (e.g., “So
how many members of the Hugh O’Brien Youth Leadership group are
here tonight?” and before taping an intro segment “I’ve got to suck
up to Lou Dobbs for a minute. You have not seen me kiss ass until
you’ve seen me kiss up to Lou Dobbs.”)
However, I suppose Begala’s clumsy attempts at interaction are
the point. According to CNN Senior Executive Producer Sam Feist in
a press release: “‘Crossfire’ is an unpredictable show, it should
be unpredictable, and to be in front of a studio audience adds a
degree of unpredictability. The audience adds life to any program
because of their participation.”
Especially when that element of unpredictability is contrived by
a TV producer. For the upcoming soccer segment, Begala is handed a
number of balls representing different sports. He takes the
football and begins hurling it into the crowd. After a few smooth
passes, the ball sails back from the crowd on to the desk on stage,
obliterating Bob Novak’s steaming hot coffee mug. This requires an
intensive clean-up, where in addition to the coffee, the scowl also
has to be wiped off of Novak’s face. But it’s hard to blame him for
being annoyed; before the show we were told that disruptive
audience members would be “ejected and banned from campus.”
Apparently, that same rule doesn’t apply to rowdy hosts.
And if you’re a respected journalist like Novak staring
peevishly at your coffee-stained tie, you’ve got to wonder just
what the hell Begala and “Crossfire“‘s other new liberal co-host,
James Carville, are doing on the show in the first place. Novak has
been an ace reporter for decades, and the other conservative host
Tucker Carlson, while comparatively inexperienced, also earned his
corporal’s stripes as a print reporter. Carville and Begala have
never been anything but the most partisan and shameless political
operatives, hardly the sort of riffraff that the Fourth Estate used
to hand over keys to the executive washroom. Begala actually refers
to Clinton on air as “my boss” and Carville is such a braying
jackass he might as well be the official Democratic mascot. Novak,
on the other hand, while well respected in conservative circles, is
still a registered Democrat and could never be accused of toeing
the Republican party line. As for Carlson, he was aptly described
by a New York Press writer as “a young Republican whose
favorite target is older Republicans.”
Still, that’s not to say that sparks don’t fly on the new
“Crossfire.” Novak and Begala do go at it quite a bit, though you
get the sense that Novak’s remaining faithful to his cause simply
because Begala never lets up. What’s ridiculous about the show is
the mock rivalry between hosts it’s artificially cultivating on air
and in particular in new promos, where the hosts are draped in
boxing robes, and Bob Novak is billed as the “prince of darkness.”
(Now there’s a fresh take.) They’ve even been sniping at each other
in press releases with Carlson asking Carville “How do you whimper
in Cajun?” and Begala referring to Carlson as “pretty boy.” It all
strikes me as a pretty cheap bid for ratings.
Just like the need to have a live audience. You expect these
kind of gimmicks from television executives, but it’s doubly bad
they’ve managed to drag a respected academic institution into this
mess. Of course the new show is invaluable PR for George Washington
University, which needs to justify the existence of its new $27
million Media and Public Affairs Building. But more than that it is
a tacit acknowledgment of the fact that in order to study politics,
an understanding of the medium of television is a necessary
evil.
And while the auditorium isn’t full, it doesn’t look like the
show is going to have a problem getting tourists and GWU students
to come to the tapings. Every so often a camera on a large crane
sweeps precariously low, just above the crowd’s heads. Before the
show we were warned about this crane, so as not to stand up
suddenly. The camera takes us all in, and I spot the tiny dot in
the front row that is the back of my head, on the show’s
monitor.
I wait for the camera to sweep back across the crowd; I’m
abnormally tall, have a hard head and a good lawyer. I figure I if
sit up at just the right moment, I’ll get whacked by the camera and
the ensuing lawsuit will be my first step toward financial
independence.
But alas, there’s a chance I’ll get knocked cold and will miss
the rest of the show. I don’t want to miss the U.S. Women’s soccer
coach, who extols the virtues of soccer thusly: “If you look at
soccer and the way that it’s played, whether it’s in the men’s game
or the women’s game, it’s fascinating. We’re moving a ball up and
down with our feet.”
Maybe this is just my ugly Americanism, but the mere thought of
watching soccer makes me, along with 74 percent of the audience,
begin to nod off. I check the time and realize that if I were home
watching CNN, I could change the channel, perhaps over to ESPN.
There’s an NBA playoff game on tonight.
