Defying Sanity
Twice, I went to the movies to escape Donald Trump. Both times, he found me.
Among the many fictions that the modern conservative movement has invented, in addition to the War on Christmas, men who pose as trans women to infiltrate women’s restrooms, and the “DEI hire,” is a peculiar condition called Trump Derangement Syndrome.
Popularized during the first Trump administration, the primary symptom of this imagined disease is simply reacting to the outlandish, mean-spirited, or criminal things that former and future President Donald Trump actually says or does. Nonetheless, Trump’s fans like to characterize these reactions as paranoic outbursts with little relation to reality.
Even though psychologists have published studies which show that there is far more bias among Trump’s followers than his detractors, I’ve begun to wonder if there might be something to this diagnosis.
Like a lot of people, I cycled through the stages of grief after Trump won a second term last month. He hasn’t even taken office yet, but I already feel attacked by my news feed. Every time he picks yet another sex offender to join his cabinet, it chips away a little at my soul. I can’t believe we’re going on this particular trip again, and yet I know this time will be even worse.
In an effort to escape (mentally, at least — I’ve no plans to expatriate, yet), I been returning to a place of comfort and solace: the movie theatre. Since the pandemic, seeing a film on a big screen is something many of us have done a lot less, but to minimize my despair and bolster my mental health, sitting in a dark room and losing myself in stories that take place either long ago or far away seemed like a good idea. In the same weekend, I recently took myself to the movies to see the two biggest blockbusters of the holiday season so far: Wicked and Gladiator II.
But rather than escapism, what I was confronted with both times was the visage of one Donald J. Trump. He’s showing up everywhere, it seems. And I’m beginning to wonder if I’m as “deranged” as the MAGA hats say I am.
In the merry old land of Oz, Trump showed up in the far more handsome, far more charming form of Jeff Goldblum. The Wizard, as anyone who’s read either book (L. Frank Baum or Gregory Maguire) or seen either movie (this one or 1939’s The Wizard of Oz) knows, is actually … not a wizard. He’s an ordinary human man, who took a wrong turn in a hot air balloon, landed in a strange land, and managed to hoodwink an entire nation into believing he was an all-powerful savior. He’s a con man. He’s a narcissist. He … seems awfully familiar.
In Gladiator II, there are two Trumps! Fred Hechinger and Joseph Quinn play twin brothers and co-emperors of Rome: Geta and Caracalla (who ruled together briefly in the year 211 before Caracalla had Geta killed). First of all, you know they’re supposed to be the “bad guys” in this movie because in the midst of muscles, machismo, and stoic masculinity, these two are … well, kind of girly. They wear eyeliner and dote exceedingly on their pets. But they bear a certain resemblance to a modern American politician in other ways. Their hair is a slightly unnatural shade of blonde. They’re petulant and prone to tantrums. They give away power to those who flatter them. They … ring a bell.
I absolutely loved Wicked. It was brilliant. I could probably write five columns about the film if I chose. On the other hand, I … enjoyed Gladiator II, as much as I’ve ever liked these blood-soaked “sand, swords ’n’ sandals” epics. But in both films, I found it first annoying, then a little disturbing that my thoughts kept traveling back to the man I went to the theatre to avoid. Was this a window into my future for the next four years?
After thinking about it for a while, I think the answer is both yes and no. When he becomes the President of the United States, Trump will be a fixture in our news. While the media often ignores the things they should pay more attention to and dwell on stories that don’t really impact anyone’s lives (hello, Hunter Biden), I can’t very well expect to live in a Trump-free universe for the next four years. He’s going to be on my mind.
And I think he popped up where he was the least welcome, in my moments of respite, because he’s not new. The story of a leader who is far less than he claims to be, egocentric and easy to manipulate, is a tale that predates even L. Frank Baum or the freakin’ Roman Empire. So, unless I spend the next four years watching nothing but reruns of The Golden Girls, as tempting as that sounds, he’s going to show up in the stories we consume. And perhaps that’s as it should be. Stories can be an escape, but they can also teach us important lessons, if we’re willing to listen.