A Life in the Shadows

 

I like to live in the shadows; I never like to be the centre of attention. If there’s a spotlight, I’m the one checking where the nearest fire exit is. As I grow older, I’m increasingly terrified of situations where I’m forced to be front and centre. Recently I found myself in such a situation and, even though it was for positive reasons, I was in such a state I had to be physically assisted on and off the stage. Nothing says “natural public figure” like needing a small search-and-rescue operation just to reach a lectern.

There is another, less intrusive and far more pleasurable way my love of the shadows shows itself: I’m fascinated by those who, willingly or not, share the shadow with me. When I watch a movie, I focus less on the foreground and more on the background. The actions or inactions of the extras fascinate me more than anything Kevin Costner or Hugh Jackman may be doing. Those unnamed and unrecognised individuals have lives, but for the moment they’re consigned to standing or walking, strictly instructed not to look at the camera and not to be noticeable. That’s no problem for me; I used to do it as a job once, and it was my happy place. Paid to loiter and pretend not to exist? Sign me up.

So, there is something to be said for lying on the ground calling myself Spartacus. But there are more modern manifestations of life in the shadows. It is somewhat archaic, immature and insidious, but it exists – in the New Zealand Labour Party. You know how it goes: Party Leader Chris Hipkins, standing up talking to camera at an “impromptu” press conference (impromptu in the same way your dentist “just happens” to have a drill ready). Inevitably, there will be three or four Labour MPs behind him. Usually, they’ll be his deputy leader Carmel Sepuloni and Willow-Jean Prime, who are both experts in nodding their heads (like those dogs in the back windows of cars) in apparent agreement with every sage pontification uttered by their leader. It’s like watching footage of Kim Jong-un and his entourage, except Kim’s entourage are specially chosen to appear shorter than him; the reverse, for some obscure reason, seems to be the case for the New Zealand Labour Party. Perhaps they’re going for the visual of a slightly annoyed ginger Teletubby flanked by two concerned guidance counsellors.

It is the same with Donald Trump and his entourage. Usually that entourage will comprise Secretary of State Marco Rubio, Secretary of War Pete Hegseth and Secretary of Health Robert Kennedy Jr. The last two are useless and collectively a waste of space, like the political equivalent of the two plastic chairs nobody ever sits on at a barbecue, but Rubio is fascinating. For a start, he looks the most intelligent of the bunch and seems to know what he’s doing. He also seems more aware of what’s happening around him instead of being blinded in the headlights of their beloved MAGA leader. Let’s not forget that Rubio stood against, and stood up to, Trump for the Republican nomination in the 2016 election. But watch him carefully at those stand-up press conferences standing behind Trump. Unlike the entourages of Hipkins and Jong-un, he is not gleefully applauding every inane pontification and lie Trump expands. Rubio is standing there, stone-faced and trying hard not to roll his eyes, radiating the energy of a man who once had ambitions, now wondering if faking his own death mid-press conference would count as a principled stand.

So when I say I like living in the shadows, I don’t mean I’m hiding from the world. I’m just far more comfortable standing three people back, slightly out of focus, pretending to be deeply invested in whatever is being said while secretly wondering what’s for dinner.

Besides, someone has to be the extra in the background of history. Let the Hipkinses, Jong-uns and Trumps of the world stride to the microphone and soak up the spotlights, the scrutiny and the sweat. I’ll be behind them somewhere, hands politely folded, expression neutral, trying very hard not to roll my eyes — and absolutely nailing my one line:

“Please don’t look at the camera.”