The biggest and nicest movie theater in Tyler when I was growing up was less than a block south of the courthouse and next door to Sears Roebuck (as it was called). The Tyler Theater was much more grand than its sisters, the Liberty and the Arcadia, having a sweeping curved staircase that led to a large balcony, a wall mural of which I have only vague memories, and plush red velvet curtains that were raised dramatically at the start of the program.
I remember seeing The Poseidon Adventure there—a star-studded disaster movie, both immensely entertaining and hugely successful. Instead of an iceberg, this ship is hit by a tsunami caused by an undersea earthquake, causing it to capsize. (Surely most of you know this.) Many are killed in the process, but that is necessary to provide the best moments of the movie, which ultimately made it one of the biggest hits of 1973. Small price to pay, wouldn’t you say, offing some expendable extras and not a single star in the process, unless you count Leslie Nielsen. And who did, back then?
The survivors gathered in the huge dining room must now decide what to do in this upside down ship, choosing between the purser’s order to stay calm and stay put and Gene Hackman’s impassioned plea—“Nobody’s going to help us but ourselves”—to climb up the Christmas tree and head to the hull, which was down and is now up. Only the stars go with Gene, leaving a whole bunch of folks and Arthur O’Connell, who as a great character actor playing a priest is expected to die nobly with the remaining extras.
The rest of the movie is about explosions, flooded corridors, and steam leaking pipes that pick off movie stars all along the way. By the time it’s over, the only survivors are three of the five Oscar winners in the cast, the two children, and Carol Lynley, who shouldn’t have made it if for no other reason than she lip-synced to that cloying song “The Morning After” earlier in the picture.
Well, we’ve kind of capsized, too, in the last several months. We’re not movie stars, but then we’re not extras either. We don’t have the current reigning Best Actor winner to lead us either, although I’d cast Gene Hackman over Adrien Brody in that role any day.
Now, if this all sounds familiar, it is because you may be a longtime reader of this column with a particularly excellent memory. I wrote this over five years ago in the early days of COVID-19. The world had only recently turned upside down, and the death toll in America had just crossed 70,000. Governor Abbott in Texas was loosening restrictions on businesses, allowing restaurants, salons, and some others to reopen in spite of the escalating number of deaths. He was cast as the purser in this movie metaphor.
Today, I thought I’d recycle it (with some minor revisions) for the upside-down world we’re in right now. There’s no need to articulate why we’re upside down. IYKYK. IYDYD.
Politically speaking, it’s all there. The undersea earthquake caused a tsunami that turned the ship over. Those frightened extras trying to remain calm while hoping that something external would save them. But there is no Gene Hackman taking a leadership role to tell those who want to get through this that we’re going to have to help ourselves to make that happen. Sure, there’s a whole host of wannabes who talk a good game but have yet to lead effectively.
At least for the time being, it’s a bottom-up, not top-down, proposition. No staircase to get you to where you need to go? Well, then turn that Christmas tree into a staircase, and get a move on. Flooded corridors in your way? Hold your breath and swim. Explosions? Well, gird your loins.
Bette Davis is sometimes credited for the line that old age ain’t no place for sissies. Well, neither is America in 2025. Nor was it in 2020. Nor was it during the AIDS epidemic. Nor Watergate. Nor Vietnam. Nor McCarthy. Nor the world wars. And on and on.
Maya Angelous said, “Still, like air, I’ll rise.” No staircase needed, makeshift or otherwise.
