It’s Schwarzenegger’s turn to play the ogre–and the oaf
AFTER MEL Gibson’s infamous blow-up and burn-down, it’s Arnold Schwarzenegger’s turn this year to play the ogre—and the oaf. Only a short time ago, he wound up his showy stint as the “Governator” of California. For a time there, he was even regarded as a viable bet to run for president of the United States!
But it was not to be. And, just last week, Arnold sealed the fate of his political career when he revealed that, a decade ago, he had sired a son by a longtime member of his household staff, which had prompted his wife, Maria Shriver, to leave him after two decades of marriage.
Revelation
Oh, what a fall was there! Until his recent revelation, Schwarzenegger appeared to have it all. He was an Eastern European hick who transcended his dim and dingy origins, first by becoming a champion body-builder, then an action star, and then marrying into America’s “royal” family, the Kennedys, by way of his betrothal to Shriver.
It was Maria who successfully “repackaged” Arnold into a political comer, so he owed a lot to her. How ironic then that he would end up hurting her so much by belatedly albeit contritely confessing that he had dallied with a member of her household staff. —The former hick from Eastern Europe thus revealed that, deep within his “repackaged” heart and soul, he would remain a hick forever.
No wonder he had decided not to run for reelection as “Governator.” No wonder he gave up his and Maria’s dream of his doing a Ronald Reagan and going from Hollywood to the White House.
Cornucopia
Well, all of that is filthy water under the bridge, mixed with a deluge of crocodile tears—and enough spilt milk to make a really cheesy cornucopia of corn and porn.
If we’re madly mixing up our metaphors, excuse us—we’re just trying to keep up with the former screen and political star’s painfully public discombobulation, humiliation and humongous psychological unraveling!
What’s up for Arnold after this debacle? Well, anything looks like “up” when you’ve been brought down this low. For one thing, he’s resuming his acting career—a bit the worse for wear and age and universal humiliation, but it’s still a viable proposition, because—well, he’s Arnold. Even if his entire life goes up in smoke, he’ll still have, if not his popularity, then a sourly, rancidly stellar notoriety.
But, if he really wants to rehabilitate his tattered image and reputation, he has to take his cue from former icons and other disgraced heroes like Gibson, make abject amends for a time, then try to line up a good comeback movie, as Gibson has with “The Beaver,” to persuade his deeply disappointed public that there’s hope for him still, so he deserves its gradual and generous forgiveness.
