Out-of-Place at Home

Last night I watched an Amazon Prime rom/com film that I chose because of its length. I won’t mention the title out of respect for the effort since the final product wasn’t worthy of losing more than an hour of life. The best part was the location—which was scenic and almost compensated for the sorry character interplay. The male lead was woefully miscast so the romantic scenes felt uncomfortable, at best. I don’t blame the actor. He wanted a job and was told he’d fit the part. In another role, he might seem more promising. As it was, he was terrible. He made the female lead look accomplished as she struggled to sell a relationship that didn’t exist even as pretend. Now she knows how to play to a green screen. The script wasn’t clever enough to carry dead weight.

I couldn’t help wondering how that young actor felt about being so out of place. Was he remotely aware of what was missing? Perhaps he knew perfectly well but couldn’t do anything about it—the frustration of helplessness. He was being asked to present a romantic ideal in the midst of reality. Experienced actors can portray lives far distant from their own to make audiences laugh or cry or sigh with desire, as they wish. Novices often falter before the test. Many audience members don’t expect much and remain ignorant of what a good actor contributes. They settle for nothing more complicated than a happy, if entirely predictable, ending. In this case, the male lead did his best.

Recent events in our world have left many of us feeling out-of-place, outside the joy of Independence Day. This isn’t the “old days” and never will be again. We’ve grown up—reluctantly as children often do when they must see the pimples on the face of truth. We don’t feel safe or jubilant. Many of us struggle to feel pride—especially those who’ve fought and sacrificed to preserve a way of life others are actively trying to dismantle. We know we’re surrounded with millions of neighbors we can be glad to trust. Many of those whose opinions veer extremely right are nice folks, listening to persuaders who don’t deserve the credence they’re given. If the basis of the country weren’t on the line, we could say the scene is merely part of our traditional diversity; we’ve been here before. America has always stood for diversity and democracy—even when terrible acts were committed by some of her citizens. She’s been in jeopardy previously—although maybe not at the brink of a manmade cliff as carefully prepared as this take-over is.

This election year we aren’t really voting for the person to be president. One comes with gross baggage, criminal friends, and vile opinions the like of which we haven’t witnessed publicly for a while. He and his party represent a fantasy that losing their voice will make people happier. (Certain people do thrive when the option of choice is removed so they don’t have to make difficult decisions. They enjoy being led and imagine the profits will shine on them as well as the oligarchs.) The other comes with what looks like weakness in the face of change when, in fact, change is always unsettling. A president doesn’t stand alone. The messenger isn’t the message.

We’re voting for a collective future that leaves space for us, the people, to be able to play our parts as we see them and pursue independent thought and happiness. Democracy is messier than a dictatorship because it tolerates differences of opinion, but Americans have traditionally been proud to be independent. Perhaps we need to vote for a political philosophy that has a potential to grow into a society we admire, based on kindness and truth and happiness for the masses and the planet. We need to vote with our eyes wide open to make all our citizens feel properly in place.