What the Band Was Doing

Midnight. Not late-night-by-accident midnight but the scheduled kind, the kind you have to mean. Simone had texted a screenshot of the listing two weeks ago with no message attached, just the image, which I have come to understand is how she signals that she already thinks we are going. A repertory screening of a film from 2001, score performed live by a six-piece band, one night only, tickets twelve dollars. I wrote a draft-folder sentence that evening and did not close the tab.

We got there early enough to read the single-page program in the lobby. Simone read over my shoulder and said, and I am quoting directly, 'the drummer is listed as a special guest which is either very good or very concerning.' The house was maybe two-thirds full, which felt right. Not a sold-out triumphant thing. A midweek-adjacent crowd of people who had also, apparently, meant to be there.

The band set up in front of the screen rather than to the side, which meant for the first few minutes you were watching musicians and film at the same time, trying to decide where to look. Then the score started and the question dissolved.

Pre-show program review, verdict pending

There was one moment, maybe forty minutes in, a long tracking shot, where the drums came in just slightly before I expected them and I felt the whole thing click into a different register. I didn't say anything. Simone had already turned her head slightly in my direction, which meant she'd felt it too.

Somewhere in the second act

We were on the street by 2:15, waiting for the bus, neither of us talking very much. The prints are still leaning against the kitchen wall. The cord is still on the windowsill. It was just a good night at the movies, and I wanted to write it down before the lag turned it into something more considered than it actually was.