by publius
In drama, the device of giving the spectator an item of information that at least one of the characters in the narrative is unaware of[.]
Not much left to add about Obama’s Berlin speech, so I’ll just go all MoDo on you and make lazy uninformed aesthetic observations. In watching the video, I kept thinking back to Ezra Klein’s much-maligned description of Obama’s best speeches:
Obama’s finest speeches do not excite. They do not inform. They don’t even really inspire. They elevate. They enmesh you in a grander moment, as if history has stopped flowing passively by, and, just for an instant, contracted around you, made you aware of its presence, and your role in it.
Klein caught a lot of crap for using this gushing language, but there’s something to the underlying idea. If I could rephrase, I think what he was trying to say is that Obama’s speeches sometimes cause you to become suddenly (though fleetingly) aware of dramatic irony around you. That probably sounds pretty stupid, so let me explain what I mean.
The interesting part about dramatic irony is that the audience knows something the characters don’t. Because the audience knows more, the characters’ actions often resonate with the viewer in interesting ways. For instance, in the John Adams HBO series, the early friendship of Adams and Jefferson has a bittersweet tragic undertone even at its warmest moments because we the audience know what eventually happens. They the characters don’t.
Personally, I feel these same “undertones” when I watch old clips of presidential candidates before they won. For instance, when you see Bill Clinton stand up at the 1992 debate and ask the man how the economy has hurt him, that moment has its own historical undertones. That’s because we the audience know what eventually happened – Clinton won. And he won because he was more in touch with people’s economic troubles. This moment, then, symbolized the broader history.