Things seem a little different these days. Recently, I attended the Beale Street Music Festival, to cover the event for the Flyer, but also because live music is one of life’s greatest pleasures. After two years without writing a BSMF recap, pounding out 1,000 words the Monday after felt blessedly normal.
Don’t get me wrong. Those paying attention know that weekly positivity rates on Covid tests are ticking back upward. Covid isn’t gone. But events are happening, I’m vaccinated, and when I watched Cory Branan rip through “The Prettiest Waitress in Memphis,” I was able to enjoy the song instead of wondering just how many of the people in the crowd were Covid-positive. Anyway.
Last week, I went to a friend’s annual work party at a local brewery. That evening I met some friends for dinner and drinks. We shared stories, talked about work, and my friend admitted that she wasn’t moved by a recent live production of Macbeth she attended. Uncultured swine that I am, I said that for me, no theater-going experience has ever topped the time when, on a junior high field trip, I saw a college production of Dracula. (Remember that — we’ll get back around to it in a bit.)
As the evening came to a close and we prepared to head our separate ways, the conversation turned to a certain intangible but undeniable something in the air. I felt it at BSMF too — there were odd moments, times when the enthusiastic audience seemed not to know what to do. One of my dinner companions shared a story of a mild verbal interaction that spiraled into threats of physical violence. She described one of the parties involved being held back by her companions, clinging to the door frame, trying to pull herself across the threshold to start a fight.
Things seem a little different these days. There’s something simmering under the surface.
That was on my mind the next day when I caught a screening of the new Doctor Strange flick. It was okay. As a longtime fan of The Evil Dead, I appreciated the signature touches of director Sam Raimi. And there were moments when I thought, “Hey, here I am in a theater again. How wonderful is this?” The spell was nearly broken, though, by another moviegoer in my row who talked through the entire film. I considered saying something. I have before. Once I turned around and fake-apologized to a chatty couple, “Oh, gosh, I’m sorry. Did we stumble into your living room? It must be awkward for all of us to be here. I hope we don’t ruin the mood.”
But I kept my mouth shut. I thought about saying something, even considered being polite instead of snarky, for a change. Then I thought about being stabbed to death in a Marvel movie and decided it wasn’t worth it. Everyone’s on edge.
Things seem a little different these days. It’s been in the back of my mind since the March 2020 debate between now-President Joe Biden and Senator Bernie Sanders, when Biden said he was not in favor of Medicare for all or any single-payer system. Both candidates admitted we were experiencing an “unprecedented moment” in history, but in the midst of that moment, the leading candidate appeared more committed to maintaining the economic and social status quo than to finding a solution. More than two years later, I haven’t gotten over it. It just feels crazy, this insistence on individual solutions to large-scale problems. This belief that nothing should change. Or that civility or bipartisanship are goals to be prized in and of themselves.
Speaking of unchanging, some 125 years ago this month, Bram Stoker’s Dracula was published. Its plot points and motifs make the 19th-century novel a fair companion to today’s world. It’s a story of greed, wealth, and disease, of old systems refusing to die, sucking the life from young blood. Told in the form of letters, diary entries, and newspaper clippings, it gives the reader a broad view of the horror, something none of the characters can see as a whole. So the reader knows Count Dracula is a vampire, while the characters grope blindly in the dark. That’s often what it feels like these days.
Discussions on pressing problems are siloed, divorced from a larger reality. Meanwhile, we soldier on, going to work, paying bills, meeting friends for dinner and to discuss that certain something that taints the atmosphere, like the stench of burned sugar wafting from another room. People discuss workforce issues without mentioning the more than 994,000 Americans who have died of Covid. The shortage of baby formula hit the headlines the same week as the SCOTUS Roe leak. Something must be done to address these issues — but nothing that risks fundamental change.
There’s something in the air, and we’re reaching for the air freshener instead of looking for the source.
