What’s utterly compelling, even thrilling, is how flat Trump goes. He’s seeing himself, projected back to himself, and the movie is an earnest disaster.
There’s zero energy in the room. Everyone is watching someone have a near-nervous breakdown on live national television, and Trump’s shy turtling kills everything. Someone else would have been able to draw out Kanye, but Trump is seeing farce now play out as tragedy. He knows that he himself is dead inside and that Kanye is alive and plummeting.
Trump just wants to go have lunch. He has got to get out of there and make sure the 13th amendment is still intact so he can lock up Kanye.
It’s too painful a self-portrait in a convex mirror.