It’s all Theater,
As we left London a vote of no confidence had dissolved the French parliament and Prime Minister Barnier resigned. President Macron vows to stay on and form a new parliament before this week. This will be France’s fourth Prime Minister in a year. A shooter took aim at the Health Insurance business and took out Brian Thomson, the CEO of United Healthcare, as he went to work in Manhattan. Fighters have captured Damascus and the Syrian president Bashar Al Assad has fled. Another coup has happened. Hafez al- Assad took power, with a coup of his own in 1971 and his son became president in 2000. Bashar Al Assad is believed to be receiving room-service with his family in Moscow.
As the plane descends to Washington we look down on the winter trees that stand close in a comfortable looking forrest, circling the small towns and villages that have been carved out of them. Arriving in DC, in America, at dusk is sobering and the temperature freezing. While our driver is prompt, efficient and friendly there is nothing else welcoming about the drive into the city as darkness falls. The huge streets coming off the freeway seem lost, reaching for the stone buildings, holding like prisons, places of power. I remember the Avenida 9 de Julio, roaring off the freeway ready to enter the chaos and confusion that is the living city of Buenos Aires.
I wanted to write about the beautiful things. The reopening of Notre Dame cathedral but then – there is the President-Elect of the United States – front and center at the cathedral’s opening ceremony. He sat smugly between President and Brigette Macron, while the current First Lady, Jill Biden, was tucked on the other side of Madame Macron. Over fifty world leaders representing as many countries fell in behind them. Ukrainian President Zelensky is tucked somewhere in there too. The shuffling on this world stage is being played out in the giant nave of this cathedral as politics come before God. Luckily the cathedral was to be reconsecrated and blessed the following day. There was time to brush the detritus of politics back into the river.
We came to Washington for The Kennedy Center Honors weekend. Walter to introduce his old friend Francis Ford Coppola at the state department dinner. Singer and activist Bonnie Raitt, Cuban Trumpeter Arturo Sandoval, The Apollo Theatre, and the Grateful Dead are all to be honored this weekend.
We arrive safely at the Salamander Hotel, rated at 4.6. out of 5 and it does very nicely thank you. Malvik wheels our luggage and shows us how our room works. He looks to have been here a long time, his thinning, oily, too long hair barely held back, is somehow comforting, leading me to believe that this hotel may care who it hires and holds onto. The staff, as with any big hotel, is heavily African-American and Latina but there are also Africans from Ethiopia carrying the strength of their own cultures and beliefs. One senses that working inside the hotel is a safe place.
On Saturday night, as supporting cast, we are guided onto the bus taking us to the State Department for dinner with The Secretary of State, Anthony Blinkin. The driver whips this bus along the avenues as if it is a chariot around the Roman colosseum before coming to a screeching halt on the street. Standing on the bus step he exclaimed loudly, ‘we must walk from here’ and – because it is not raining – we all laugh – understanding as we do that the whole evening is theater. Ball-gowned singers and actresses, black-tied, over-coated actors and musicians along with a few low-life politicians carefully climb down off the bus and we walk the last half block to the entrance for the first of the weekend’s security checks. A line here for photos, a line there for hand shaking with a little glimpse into a politician’s life and the world of Politics. Power, beauty, talent and money are all standing in line, (with our name cards to hand over for announcing) as we move though the rooms that are pretending to be older than their 70 years. It is hard to explain – it is as if the building itself is also aware that this is all theater. Hands are shaken and smiles are exchanged by which time I need to find the ladies lounge before sitting down for dinner. I try to sort out who here is carrying what gift. Mostly it is power: a retired Senator, an agricultural Lobbyist, a Board Chair and a bit of art. We look for our friends but we are all separated. This is a working weekend and we each have our parts to play. The schedule tries to be tight but 9.12 p.m. has come and gone before Bonnie Raitt, the first up, is given her honours. She is followed by Francis Coppola, Arturo Sandoval, The Apollo Theater and finally the Grateful Dead. Each artist is given their ribbon and chain and says thank you, speaking of how honored they are to be here. The surprise comes at the last when the Grateful Dead come to receive their colours. How could they get old? Us yes, but them? No way. It seems truly unfair.
Night One is over and we can relax. For tomorrow is show time. Sunday brunch gives us the time to catch up with friends. But like the Oscars in Hollywood one is dressed in a new ball gown – early. This bus driver is a lot more steady for as we approach the Kennedy Center the streets are lit up with rows of police cars flashing their blue and yellow lights as they shepherd the politicians of this fading administration, along with D.C.’s finest and the rest of us, to the Kennedy Center. As we filed through another security check and into the vastness of that building I wondered how the political factors and teams played out in this arena of theater. Are they brought together through music, cinema and opera? Can the arts help break through the animosity of power? The politicians we had sat with the night before were moving on to the deal opportunities that this evening could bring. We sit down early watching the theater fill up until someone tries to get everyone to their seats as ‘the show is about to start’ but it is tricky when the past Speaker of the House is now busy speaking in the isles. As the President arrives with the honorees behind him and the red uniformed marching band enters to the stage, we settle. The National anthem is played. Queen Latifah comes on stage to start the show, Bobby De Niro plays a bar of two on the grand piano, and the show begins – and then – four hours later – it ends. We look up and acknowledge the fading power of President Joe Biden, the lost dreams of Kamala Harris, and the enormous richness of art that the world provides.
This has been A. Letter From A. Broad written and read for you by Muriel Murch
Supported by murchstudio.com
Muriel Murch 