To the strains of “I’m Proud to Be an American”, Trump emerges from the tunnel, a heaviness in his bearing. He is 6’2” tall and well over 250 pounds, a very big man. The first impression I have is that I do not think a 5’6” or 5’7” Trump would have been elected. Remember all those images of him at the Republican debates, towering over the other candidates? He strikes me as a ‘loomer’, one of those men who use their size to gain a psychological advantage, one who might stand close to a competitor, an adversary, a woman and ‘loom’ over him or her in order to intimidate or persuade.
On his way to the podium, he strolls and stops, claps in that slow and heavy way of his. He is completely comfortable here. He betrays no anxiety, no sense of hurry or urgency. He has appeared on hundreds of TV shows. He is among his people and will be using a medium he knows better than any other American politician, ever. The ‘USA’ chant begins. He says, “We love each other and it’s going to stay that way.”
He offers thank you’s to various Montana pols, calls up Matt Rosendale, the candidate running against Democratic Senator Jon Tester. For a few minutes Rosendale seems to duck and cover behind the microphone, his face often cut off, uncomfortable with turning his back on Trump who sets himself close behind Rosendale’s right shoulder. He has an unpleasant voice and like most pols tries too hard to please. Trump does not make that mistake. He is so in synch with his supporters, he does not worry about a misstep. He knows there is nothing he can say that they will not love or quickly forgive and forget.
Trump adjusts the mike so that his entire face rises above it. He has small eyes. His eyebrows and his mouth are his most expressive features.
He starts in on Tester — a vote for Tester is a vote for Schumer and Pelosi. The crowd behind him begins the ‘thumb’s down’ gesture at the mention of their names.
He continues on Tester regarding a murder by an immigrant (who knows?), then onto Democrats “who want open borders … and lots of crime”, then onto “crooked Hillary who gets special treatment from the Justice department”. As they have been trained to do, the crowd begins to chant “Lock her up”. In the middle of all this he attacks John McCain, boasts of the destruction of Obamacare and describes a non-existent Trump health care program. Patterns of words reveal themselves — tough, strong, powerful, protect, safe.
His speaking style is fluid. He free associates put-downs, grievances, grudges, boasts. He moves so quickly from attack to attack that he must overwhelm moments of doubt or skepticism in his supporters. The outright lies mix seamlessly with applause lines and his exclamations of disbelief that anyone could disagree with him. His style seems conversational but it is really a monologue. The crowd is there to cheer and thus to give him energy. He is in absolute need of a compliant audience, not of friends.
He slouches forward a bit at the podium, as tall men and women are apt to do, hands clutching its sides. He will turn slowly from side to side. He seems to understand that quick movements from a speaker on screen do not translate. They can appear erratic.
The monologue continues:
“How about that FBI agent? Do you think he likes me?”
The Europeans “kill us on trade. They kill us on NATO.”
Sounding like some broken nosed mobster shaking down a candy store owner, he says, “Angela, we protect you. How much protection do we get?”
At 43:31, in reference to Russia: “Getting along with other countries is a nice thing. It’s a smart thing.”
In reference to meeting with Putin: “I’ve been prepared for this stuff my whole life.”
“I got along very well with Chairman Kim.”
“Good will is very important.”
Ultimately though, he must have enemies. He defines himself through enemies. A shift to his favorite target:
“These guys (pointing to the press section off camera), the crooked press, the fake news, [these] bad people.”
He cannot let go of any disagreement or slight.
Sometimes his performance is distinctly like a stand-up comedy routine. In the midst of some bit of mockery or feigned disbelief, he will step back from the podium, straighten his body, change the tenor and timbre of his voice and acquire another persona. Like a musician, he often riffs on a theme until some other object of attack or reminder of his own achievement comes to him, and then he takes up that melody.
He rarely if ever rants, that kind of spittle spraying, red-faced shouting that makes you think the speaker is about to stroke out. His manner is more louche than that, more Las Vegas then 1936 Berlin. You half-expect a resurrected Rat Pack to come bouncing onto the stage, half drunk, Frank and Deano leading the way for some hi-jinks. He insinuates his hatreds into his speech, a type of sugar-poison, a fear based appeal to his people that he knows the threats and he alone can save them, but he does all this in a milder manner then you expect. I keep thinking of how we have been trained to accept cruelty from comedians.
At about the 49 minute mark he goes after generic Democrats:
“A vote for Democrats in November is a vote to let MS-13 run wild in our communities … to let drugs pour into our cities and to take jobs and benefits away from our hard working Americans.”
“Democrats want anarchy.”
“ICE wipes out MS-13. They liberate towns.” “We’re taking them out by the thousands.”
Democrats are “vile”.
At a certain point, as they have been taught, the crowd begins to chant, “Build that wall.”
He mocks the MeToo# movement, Maxine Waters, Elizabeth Warren, aka Pocahontas, to whom he mimes throwing a kit for genetic testing.
He is enjoying himself. So is the crowd who more often than not are calm; they talk and laugh to each other. They look as if they are watching a neighborhood softball game.
Trump makes use of the pronouns “they” and “we” effectively. “They” are the enemies. “We” is the melding of Trump with the 90% of Republicans who love him. He is the center of the universe, but so are they as long as they stick with him.
The whole rally takes place within an irony-free bubble, one blissfully unconcerned about his infinite lies, his cruelty, his corruption.
He goes back to the election and a long reminder of all the states he won, the percentages of his victories, on and on and on, my god, the longueur of this as if one were stuck in a stalled elevator with a talkative drunk who will not shut up about some glorious moment in his life.
Coming to the end of the rally, his voice begins to rise as does the cheering. His rendition of economic stats rolls out so quickly it is not possible to a pause and think if they are exaggerations or lies or true.
Another speech pattern:
So much is easy. So much is great. So much has never been done. So many said it could never be done. So many leaders have congratulated me. Nobody believed this was possible. Everybody said.
One lie stands out to me, as odious a lie as I have heard at this rally: “We are proudly protecting our public lands for future generations.”
He attacks George W. Bush, John McCain again, the NFL.
He says “Our allies are worse than our enemies.”
He says, “Did I ever tell you how easy it would be for me to be Presidential.”
When he finishes speaking, the Rolling Stones come on: “You Can’t Always Get What You Want”. Trump turns slowly from side to side, heavily claps, waves, a happy man in his element where he has found what he needs.
