Matthew McConaughey for president? He’s achieved what no American politician has in decades

Matthew McConaughey, a native of Uvalde, Texas, talks about the mass shooting in Uvalde - AP Photo/Evan Vucci
Matthew McConaughey, a native of Uvalde, Texas, talks about the mass shooting in Uvalde - AP Photo/Evan Vucci

Cometh the hour, cometh the Matt. Oscar-winning actor Matthew McConaughey stood at the White House press lectern and spoke about the Uvalde shootings. It was such a convincing performance that it was easily possible to imagine him there on a more regular basis.

In a suit, white shirt and glasses, hair swept back smartly, he eulogised the victims of the attacks in Texas on May 24, which left 19 students and two teachers dead, and 17 others wounded. He held up photos of some of the victims. He talked about how nine-year-old Maite Rodriguez had only been identified by her green high-top Converse trainers.

McConaughey, 52, did not shy from the grim details of the shootings. He spoke of how hard it had been for the undertaker’s cosmetologist to prepare the tiny bodies for open-casket viewings, so awful were their exit wounds. He argued for specific changes to gun regulation: background checks, red flags and raising the age of sale on AR-15 assault rifles.

“I’m here today,” McConaughey implored, “in the hopes of applying what energy, reason and passion that I have into trying to turn this moment into a reality.

“This moment is different. We are in a window of opportunity right now that we have not been in before, a window where it seems like real change – real change can happen.”

In just 21 minutes, McConaughey managed what no American politician has achieved in decades: a genuinely bipartisan appeal to the American people. The contrast between the actor’s fluency and President Biden’s doddery exhortations on the subject was, well, dramatic. McConaughey is more handsome and charismatic than the US president. He has a more expressive speaking voice. His address was eloquent without lapsing into Hollywood showmanship, angry but not histrionic and charming but not at the expense of its power. When he pounded the lectern in frustration, it felt like he meant it. If anyone could suffer to sit through all of Keir Starmer’s speeches, they would likely find less emotion in the whole lot than in each of McConaughey’s lines.

As with any compelling speech, McConaughey had the effect of prompting questions in the audience’s mind which he then went on to answer. Why was he, Matthew McConaughey, here? Because he had been to the White House to speak with President Biden about gun control. Why had he been invited? Because he was born in Uvalde, where his mother taught kindergarten less than a kilometre from Robb Elementary school, where the shooting took place. More than that, McConaughey who has never declared a Republican or Democratic allegiance, could speak without the whiff of partisan politics. In as far as it’s possible to be all things to all Americans, McConaughey is it. He is a Hollywood actor but also a beloved son of Texas. A surfer who golfs. A committed Christian family man, with a wife and three children, who in 1999 was arrested while high, naked and playing the bongos. It is hard to imagine a figure better suited to the moment.

Crucially, McConaughey reminded his audience, he is a “responsible gun-owner” himself. “Uvalde is where I learned to master a Daisy BB gun,” he said, adding, “That took two years before I graduated to a 410 shotgun. Uvalde is where I was taught to revere the power and the capability of the tool that we call a gun.” Later he quoted the passage from Deuteronomy that 10-year-old Ellie Garcia had been preparing to read in church on Wednesday evening. “And thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, with all thy soul and with all thy might.” Nobody watching could argue that this was some shrill liberal come to steal their guns. This was the anti-Charlton Heston.

But it was not always obvious, from McConaughey’s cinematic roles and public persona, that he would become the surf-dude Cicero. After being a high-school football star, he briefly toyed with the law before acting. A breakthrough role in Richard Linklater’s Dazed and Confused in 1993 was followed up with starring roles in U-571 and Contact.

However, in the early Noughties, McConaughey was waylaid by dreary hunk parts in romcom fluff like The Wedding Planner and How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days. In 2005, he was voted the Sexiest Man Alive by People magazine, which was not part of William Taft’s preparation for high office. McConaughey became as well known for his gnomic, down-home Texan utterances as much as his performances. His musical Texan drawl, punctuated by little clicks and whistles and his signature pronunciation of “Alright”, became a fixture on chat shows. (A YouTube supercut collects 280 instances of him saying it between 1993-2017.)

It was not until he made a conscious effort to turn down the romcoms in favour of grittier roles, particularly as a detective in the Southern Gothic HBO series, True Detective, that McConaughey got the recognition that had seemed his birthright – and, eventually, an Oscar for Dallas Buyers Club. Those changing fortunes might yet prove his greatest asset, a redemption story being the only thing in America that enjoys true bipartisan support.

Actor Matthew McConaughey, winner of Best Performance by an Actor in a Leading Role poses in the press room during the Oscars - Jason Merritt/Getty Images
Actor Matthew McConaughey, winner of Best Performance by an Actor in a Leading Role poses in the press room during the Oscars - Jason Merritt/Getty Images

Nor was the speech McConaughey’s first brush with politics. In 2016, he spoke at the University of Houston with a wholesome, straight-talking message. In 2020, he published a book, Greenlights, a part-memoir part-manifesto for life that would sit easily with a tilt at office. He discussed running for Texas governor, perhaps as an independent, before pulling out last November, apparently over fears that he might split the Democrat vote: perhaps a hint at his other political leanings.

“Do my gifts fit into being effective as a politician? Good question. Because I’m not historically a politico,” he said. “I’m a folk-singing philosopher-poet who has a gift for storytelling, inspiration. But as the CEO of the state or a nation, you have to administrate. You have to set up laws.”

Sometimes new laws are needed. McConaughey’s tone was of a man who knows that the White House remains, just about, more powerful than Hollywood. We may yet live to see the Abe with abs, the Rodeo Roosevelt. President McConaughey? It would be alright.