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What It’s Like Seeing The Normal Heart During Another Pandemic

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TL;DR it’s soul-crushingly ironic.

A few weekends ago, we had the complicated privilege of seeing Larry Kramer’s seminal work, The Normal Heart, now playing at The National Theatre. Kramer wrote the play, which premiered in 1985, during and about the rise of the AIDS epidemic in New York City in the early ’80s.

Whenever people talk about The Normal Heart, they use the phrase ‘searing indictment’. I mean not without good reason – it works, and it sounds good. It’s a ‘searing indictment’ of state and federal governments, of all aspects of the health system that failed to do literally anything to help the sick or help curb the spread. And, of the hindsight granted to us in viewing a community that was stuck between a rock and a hard place — not wanting to ruffle too many feathers in their attempt to get people to care, but doomed to fail unless they did so.

What this production ended up being, however, was an indictment of our present theatre-going community, and, of course, the entities tasked with ensuring our welfare. I am not comparing the situations or the people involved, but it was beyond ironic to see a play about a world-changing pandemic during a world-changing pandemic, and upsettingly so. You don’t want the lessons of Kramer and of AIDS and of incredible words like The Normal Heart to simultaneously be relevant and ignored, yet here we are.

In the play, Ned Weeks (Ben Daniels) is painted as the odd man out for being so quick to anger, so full of rage that he easily unleashes, while his peers try to remain calm and reserved and polite, as though that ever accomplishes anything. Early in the show, Ned says some whoa there things about Jews in the Holocaust and in America during the war who didn’t fight against what was happening. He rails against Jews for not fighting for what was right, as though they could have done anything. For the rest of the show, Ned lives firsthand through a refutation of this speech, as he and his community become the new embodiment of the powerless, with no one listening to them and no one willing to help except one lone doctor, Emma Brookner (Liz Carr).

There’s a lot I can say about this always moving, emotional show. I could talk about Ben Daniels’ lead performance, and how capably he carried this heavy, heavy show. I could talk about the quality of the supporting cast. I could wonder why it seemed like the famous Act II monologue of Dr Emma Brookner, always hailed as the most impressive featured role, seemed truncated even though it wasn’t. I could talk about the fine directorial choices like the gradual accumulation of physical junk on the floor, or in contrast how for some reason the play overall felt more overtly didactic than any production I’ve seen before, like it was solely a sequence of monologues.

However, none of these critical aspects of the play itself feel remotely important when considering the overall experience of this play, happening now, in this climate. I think of this experience and I am filled with incomprehensible fury. This audience at the National at a performance on a Saturday night represented the worst showing for maskwearing I’ve seen anywhere since the pandemic began. And I’ve been to America. Twice. I never knew what irony was until I was watching this play about how people weren’t taking a pandemic seriously while surrounded by people not taking a pandemic seriously. Ned yells at his friends when they refuse to entertain the idea of even suggesting to gay men to stop having promiscuous sex for now; they say this is a matter of personal freedom and identity. Guys, that’s just toooo on the nose, isn’t it? Ned says that their personal freedom is endangering HIS life. And a man across the aisle clapped and hooted while coughing openly. I wholeheartedly recognize and approve of Ned’s fury at his fellow man in failing to join him in his, because that’s how it feels being one of the few taking this pandemic seriously. Watching in real time as his righteous indignation, so beautifully and honestly written by Kramer, performed by Daniels, directed by Cooke, fell on such conspicuously deaf ears, it felt like the unavoidable condemnation was on our society now, not then.

Of course the situations are different, and the ignorance is based on different kinds of hate. Yet the emotions are the same — the frustration, the feeling of being abandoned, the feeling that your fellow man doesn’t care, the knowledge that he doesn’t. Because in case you didn’t know, we are indeed still in a pandemic that our government is refusing to take seriously. People in the healthcare community are on the news begging the government to do something, and the government responds with promises to the business communities that they won’t implement another lockdown, as though people in business can’t die of Covid. All the theatres I’ve returned to up to this point have politely and carelessly suggested that audience members wear masks, but without an actual rule that patrons must wear masks, it seems like roughly 80% do not. And for some reason, theatres state their belief that unless the government has a mask mandate, they do not have the legal authority to make or enforce one, which is a bunch of hot hot garbage.

Without an actual mandate from the theatre, and without staff enforcing the wearing of masks, theatre audiences are widely unmasked. I assumed that the kind of people choosing to see The Normal Heart, people voluntarily seeing a heart breaker about this sort of systemic and personal failure to curb a pandemic and help victims, would be the kind of people still wearing masks and giving a shit. I was very wrong!

I honestly still cannot wrap my head around the extraordinary irony of listening to Ned scream at his friends and community members about how they don’t care and aren’t doing enough, while we were sitting next to people who don’t care and aren’t doing enough, and who have the gall to cheer (and then ignore) the lessons being taught onstage. It’s seriously distressing to hear these lines about how other people are pretending nothing’s wrong and they don’t care if others die so long as they can go on acting in their own self interest, when that’s exactly what’s happening. It took all my strength not to turn to all the maskless people and be like, ‘aren’t you guys hearing this?’ Dr. Brookner’s big moment has her screaming at a medical committee that decides not to fund her research into AIDS; she yells at them to just do something, anything, or they would all be dead before they could. And the audience APPLAUDED. The people around us coughing and not covering their mouths and wearing their masks around their necks APPLAUDED. No, it’s not the same, what people could be doing to help now versus what they could do then. Because what we could do now is unbelievably simple and we have the scientific community’s data and backing instead of deadly stymieing. Just wear a mask. And you’re still refusing. You’re clapping at someone in play being angry at others for not doing anything, and yet you are refusing to do the easiest fucking thing of putting a fucking piece of cloth over your nose.

I do believe that individuals in our theatre community have a lot to answer for; two years in, we have the knowledge and ability to be responsible members of society on our own volition, without being ordered to give a shit by controlling entities or governments. But, as we’ve seen, humans won’t do the right thing en masse unless ordered to. So I blame the National Theatre, having the balls to put this show on and ignore its lessons by not enforcing mask wearing or having literally any awareness of it being a pandemic. (I also continue to blame the NT for its long-standing problem of having no ushers around in case of trouble. A few times up in the circle in the past years, I’ve searched desperately for a staff member to help with issues (including one audience member who was ill), and couldn’t find anyone in the whole upper level lobby or anything. They never have anyone anywhere once the show starts. Ridic.) And above all, it is the systemic fault of the Society of London Theatres and UK Theatre membership organizations for not issuing ANY regulations for their theatres. (Obsessed with their bullshit CYAs, like how SOLT’s website has a section for ‘well-being’ to help members and stuff deal with the pandemic. You know what would help everyone’s well-being? A mask mandate.) Literally while writing this, I got an email from Telecharge reminding me how all Broadway theatres are requiring proof of vaccination and enforcing mask wearing. Londoners, you officially lose your right to make fun of Americans. If Broadway can do this, London can do this. FUCKING DO IT.

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