Last night, my family and sat down to watch the premier of the acclaimed HBO special "When the Levees Broke: A Requiem in 4 Acts." (Part 1 aired last night. Part 2 is on tap tonight.) I've always liked documentaries. They fascinate me. To me, it's neat to see a chronological account of a particular event. No matter how much one knows about what happened, there's always something new in there somewhere. I guess as a result, my family likes them, too.
In this case, I'm not sure what I expected to see last night, whether I would learn something or what. I was up later than I really wanted to be watching this piece. When it was over, I could only wonder if it was worth it. After thinking about it for most of the day, I thought I could do a little better with it if I wrote about it. So, here I am.
Now, in defense of the film - or whatever it is - there was some really interesting footage that must have been gathered from everywhere. And, as expected, director Spike Lee did a masterful job piecing the entire event together from the piles of footage. As a result, it seemed like the events from that fateful week were being relived right before our eyes. For the first hour, no one in our living room moved. We all felt the weight of the tragedy and couldn't believe that it had only happened within the last year.
As the film progressed, the mood began to shift from sadness and despair to frustration and rage as, one by one, each victim applied blame for the tradgedy to the official of choice. After an hour of one complaint after another, I was ready for the first half to end. It was getting harder and harder to feel sorry for people recounting their experiences. Regardless of what I felt or what anyone's opinion is on this tragedy, I think this is truly a situation that none of us, who watched from afar, will ever understand.
For instance, I've been to New Orleans a handful of times. None of my experiences there were that memorable. I just thought it was old and dirty. I do like Cajun Food, but I don't think I just have to eat it in the Big Easy. That's just me. I wasn't raised there. I'm sure it would be different if I were. But, I guarantee you this, whether I was raised there or not, whether I was told one day or one week before a storm the size of Katrina was on its way to my town, if I had to walk, crawl or beg, I'd get out of there. Who cares if the storm didn't turn out as expected! Me and mine would all be okay. End of story.
Of course, that isn't what happened. Hundreds died and thousands were displaced. I understand there were poor and impoverished people who were at the mercy of the government. But, really, who's fault is that? Would anyone really put their lives in the hands of any federal, state or local entity? In essence, when those people ignored the warnings of their city government to evacuate, they took their lives in their own hands, all the while thinking the government would be there for them when it all was over.
If anything, the most pathetic part of this tradgedy is the fact that it didn't have to happen. Of course it did. Tons and tons of TV footage tell us so.
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