2016 Nov 16^th

Now for a bit of whimsy: What about “Trump: The Musical!” That isn’t so far-fetched, although someone sitting nearby thinks it’s ridiculous…of course she’s right, but imagining the ridiculous often reduces the pressure of reality. Why else is farce so popular?

We need an impresario. Andrew Lloyd Weber is surely available. Although he is a conservative, this could be a significant additional achievement. Of course he is already the Baron Lloyd-Webber and enormously rich but I’ll bet he’d take the gig anyway.

Consider the cast of characters…and never has that phrase been more literally true than with this musical.  We begin with the title character, Donald J. Trump himself. An orange haired, red faced, slightly pudgy, six foot three inches tall, septuagenarian, who has just, very improbably, been elected President of the United States.

We open at Trump Tower where the main characters are assembled to get what they are sure is the word of their defeat. The Trump children and Jared Kushner, Ivanka’s husband, are initially teary eyed as they surround their father. A slightly more outer circle composed of the shorter and less important advisors, Steve Bannon, Rudy Giuliani, Kellyanne Conway, Hope Hicks and Chris Christie are seen weeping on each other’s shoulders. They pivot every 15 seconds to change to other shoulders. Their movements should be slightly syncopated.

On stage left and stage right there are two choruses: One of these choruses is African American; the other consists of women in head-scarves and Burqas. The African Americans are variously costumed, some in football uniforms, some in baseball uniforms, some in business suits and some in the caps and gowns of academics. They are jubilant, many are line dancing and high fiving each other. The Muslim women have formed a line and are doing a creditable two-step.

Various other stage bits can be inserted where appropriate.

The second act opens with the word that Trump has won. Now everything changes. Lighting is dimmer and more somber except for the orange–red spots on Trump. Trump has been hoisted in a chair by his inner circle and they are jubilantly carrying him around the stage. They begin to chant, “Two terms, two terms.” His groups form dancing circles and do the hora until an outraged Steve Bannon forces them to revert to a standard American barn dance where he can be the caller.

The choruses have changed too; the African Americans are sobbing, throwing themselves flat on the stage and tearing at their clothes. The women in their Burqas have stopped dancing and have become silent and immobile. (Yes I know how improbable it is to have African Americans and Muslims forming Greek choruses. I said that this is whimsy.)

The final act is one month later. Trump is seated in a chair center stage, otherwise the stage is empty. There is a blue-white spot on Trump. Trump stands up, reaches behind him to a golf bag on a wheeled cart. And begins to exit stage left. He turns toward the audience and says, “It’s not about having it; it’s about winning it. Now that I’ve won it, you can have it.”

CURTAIN

OK, I know it’ll have to open out of town.