Caucus or 'Caucus!,' It's the Old Song and Dance

Video

The Nation's Fate Rests in a Corny State

Highlights of "Caucus! The Musical," playing in Des Moines, Iowa through Jan. 13, 2008.

» LAUNCH VIDEO PLAYER

* * *

Sometimes it all seems like an off-off-off-Broadway play. Think of the missed cues and late entrances. Fred Thompson, anyone? And Clinton's seeming struggle between two images -- soft, familial Hillary and tough, experienced Hillary.

Most everything seems to be for show. Like when Huckabee decided to go pheasant hunting the morning after Christmas and a throng of reporters, including this one, watched the former governor shoot while wearing a microphone from CNN. "A brilliant photo op," a fellow reporter joked.

"Of course politics is theater, especially when you live in Iowa," says Julie Bell, 46, who plays Sen. Halliday in the musical. She's a medical practitioner by day, a pastor at Living Truth Church in this city's east side on the weekends and an actor in her limited spare time. She's a Democrat and still undecided about whom to support.

She's standing outside the women's dressing room minutes after the show, chatting with Christine Mallett, who goes to Bell's church and showed up to see her pastor wear her acting hat.

"They're not themselves, these politicians," says Mallett, 29, a cashier at a local Hy-Vee grocery store. She, too, is undecided. "It's sad. Politics, as we have it now, aren't letting these people be people. They're packaged, like products in a store. They're performing, like they're onstage."

Then Mallett laughs, pauses, gives Bell a look and adds, "You were a very good actress, Sister Julie."

* * *

Oh, the laughs, the agony, the drama! It's perhaps the reason why Ford added the "!" on "Caucus!" Even when the stage goes dark between scenes, the voice-overs that serve as the fictional candidates' infomercials and attack ads fill the theater. They sting the way hard truth does, and the audience can't help but laugh off their discomfort.

Like when Jensen, the musical's conservative Christian, tells his supporters on Christmas Day: "The fact that Iowa caucuses were moved closer to Christmas this year wasn't a coincidence. It was an act of divine intervention, because the Father wants us to remember that Jesus is the reason for the political season."

And when Goldman, the liberal gay Jew, issues this attack ad against his Republican and Democratic opponents: "Harrison Tate says he will fight hard to protect the sanctity of marriage. Aren't you curious what his three ex-wives will have to say about that? . . . And why does Rev. Stanley Jensen spend so much time preaching against gay marriage? Is he overzealous or overcompensating?"

All the while, the "typical Iowa caucusgoer" shakes his head, disgusted and frustrated. Indeed the most dramatic part of the musical comes about 15 minutes from the end. The "typical Iowa caucusgoer" -- the eldest Wise, a father of two, a former Republican disillusioned by the Bush presidency -- stands on the stage, without a song or a dance, and says: "It's been getting ugly from Day One. Look at them. I can't endorse any of these. Why did I agree to be a part of this?"

The actor in the role, who's lived in Iowa for more than 25 years, says that was the hardest scene for him to do in the two-hour show. He is Greg Millar, a 50-year-old college admissions counselor. He's still undecided about whom to caucus for.

"It just hits a little too close to home, I guess. I'd never done it in front of an audience until tonight. They were quiet, thinking probably about the same thing I was thinking about," says Millar. "But this is what theater does, right?"

Life imitating art, on the Iowa caucus stage.