Clint Eastwood and Mitt Romney: Timing is Everything

Two days out and still lots of reaction. Everything from spluttering outrage to expressions of pity. I've read conservative commentary postulating that it was all choreographed: the tousled hair, the long pauses, the stammering and the stuttering, the occasional blistering zinger. I've read liberal analysis from political pundits and film critics speculating about everything from Eastwood's diminished mental state to his underlying motives (maybe deep down he supports Obama, which is why he seemingly sabotaged Mitt Romney's long-awaited moment in the spotlight!). There have been the expected cheers from the right ("Go ahead--make my day!") and charges of hypocrisy ("they can dish it out but they sure can't take it"), as well as the occasional point-well-taken (stand-up comics have simply not dared to mock Obama--Clint Eastwood was simply doing their job).

In fact, pretty much every point is well-taken. For what it's worth, here's my take on Clint Eastwood's appearance at the GOP Convention on the night Mitt Romney made his acceptance speech as the nominee for president of the United States: 

I didn't appreciate it. OK, I admit, I laughed a few times, even at the unstated but clearly understood profanity by empty-chair Obama. Yes, there was a bit of satisfaction hearing Eastwood utter probably the best line of his monologue: "When somebody does not do the job, we’ve got to let them go." Marco Rubio would echo this message moments later in his speech: “He’s not a bad man. He’s just a bad president." And Artur Davis implied as much in his powerful speech on Tuesday when he directly addressed those (including himself) who had voted for Obama and asked them to "fix the mistake" they made four years ago.  

So there was a valid and important message buried beneath Eastwood's schtick. Unfortunately, the schtick undermined the message. And not simply because of the delivery, though it was, indeed, awkward. That problem could have (and should have) been addressed before Eastwood walked onto the stage. Here's a grade of D to whoever was in charge of both scheduling and vetting the speakers (someone was quoted in today's LA Times as saying you simply "don't edit" Clint Eastwood. Come again? Actually, yes, sir, you do. Any manager worth his salt has to understand that no one is unaccountable, no matter how great his celebrity, especially on such a momentous occasion as Thursday night in Tampa, Florida). 

No, it was not his delivery but the actual timing of his appearance. It wouldn't have seemed so glaringly out of place if Eastwood had spoken (say) on Tuesday night. A little levity, even controversy, is fine. But why why why did Clint Eastwood have to appear mere seconds after that gorgeous and truly moving campaign video of Mitt Romney ended? I had barely finished dabbing my eyes, only to be  basically ambushed by what amounted to a pretty offensive comedy routine that I believe demeaned not just the GOP convention but the office of the presidency. Let it be known that Barack Obama is not a person I admire or respect. But he is the president. The implied vulgarity was not only unnecessary, it was inappropriate. 

But besides all that, it was the timing of Eastwood's appearance that was all wrong. That campaign video was a moment (watch it here, if you like)--a brief, beautiful moment, where (I think) people could finally appreciate Mitt Romney the man, the person: his humanity, yes, his likability. Unlike Barack Obama, Mitt Romney really does seem to come across as a genuinely likable person, in addition to his brilliant mind and exceptional leadership skills. All of these attributes and more came across vividly and powerfully in that video, only to be almost immediately eclipsed by Clint Eastwood's comedy routine. 

Timing, people, timing! What were you thinking?

If I had been in charge of scheduling the events leading up to Mitt Romney's acceptance speech, here's what I might have done: Rubio speaks first. Then the campaign video. Then, while people are reaching for their hankies and the house lights are going back on, Mitt Romney walks onto the stage. 

Yes, yes, I realize there was some kind of a transition going on up on the platform, which resulted in Romney having to make his way slowly through the crowd, shaking hands and hugging people. This couldn't have been thought out a bit better ahead of time? The stage couldn't have already been set up (while the video was playing, say?) instead of wasting those precious moments between an audience being genuinely moved and the nominee saying to them, "I accept your nomination"? 

Not a good plan. Think of it this way: the convention is like romance before the marriage proposal (or foreplay before sex?). The three or four days leading up to the acceptance speech are the flowers, the wine, the candlelight dinners, the walks on the beach, the hand-holding. Everything contributes to the building anticipation, the excitement. Then just before that moment arrives, somebody knocks loudly on the door, walks into the room in his overalls and says, "'S'cuse me, gotta plunge the toilet here....I'll be done in a jiffy." 

That's how the Eastwood interlude felt. The building attraction, the sudden intrusion. The magic moment had passed. Rubio's speech helped, and Romney's was very good. But you just couldn't help but feel, well, just a bit jilted. 

In politics (as in love?), timing is everything.