I Am Swifty II: Still Swifty
Yes, I have previously admitted to my infatuation/admiration for Taylor Swift and the mega crowds the pop singing phenomenon was able to pull in this past summer during the U.S. leg of her Eras Tour.
But then the quandary…
It is one thing, I realized, to become addicted to dozens of short Taylor Swift videos filmed by fans and marvel. It is, I began to worry, quite another to sit through the two hours and forty-five minutes of the Taylor Swift concert movie that opened this weekend. Was my Swiftiness fake and a passing fancy as I would sit squirming in my seat wishing for the damned thing to be over?
The coming test of my loyalty filled me with angst. Could I do this? I was about to find out. My, shall-we-say, somewhat less-than-enthusiastic wife, Kathy, accompanied me, along with son Jonathan’s much-more enthusiastic partner, Tina Power.
The VIP section (nothing but the best for Taylor!) was thinly populated with fellow Swifties as we arrived for an early afternoon screening. The real Swifty crowd would not arrive until later, an usher assured us.
We were encouraged to dance during the film, but not in the aisles. As it turned out, the small crowd, all women, except for me and one other guy in a baseball cap, remained in their seats. No one even sang along. Kind of disappointing, given all the time I had spent memorizing Taylor Swift lyrics.
And how did a hypothetical Swifty of, ahem, a certain age, react when faced with nearly three hours of Taylor? Swept away, enthralled, delighted, and, on occasion, quite moved (after all, songs about being ditched are gender neutral and ageless).
As before, I couldn’t help being astounded by the immensity of the crowds who fill her stadium shows—70,000 at the Sofi Stadium in Los Angeles, where she performed the last six shows on the first leg of her tour.
One marvels all over again at the power of a single tiny figure with such control of her vast audience, armored in a spangled one-piece Versace body suit, surrounded by thousands of lights blinking from the LED wristbands handed out to audience members (that, unbelievably can be controlled to sync with the music!).
This is very much a concert film, no backstage hugs or banter, just Taylor onstage backed by her band and a platoon of dancers and backup singers. The show is visually stunning, her music a reminder that she is a throwback to the My-Boy-Friend’s-Back pop melodies of the 1960s.
Caught up in the fun and Taylor’s boundless energy, I started to my feet, unable to resist the urge to dance. My wife restrained me. She whispered that I would be the only white male of, ahem, a certain age, dancing in the theatre. Further, should I go through with this, she was leaving and immediately freezing the bank accounts.
If I missed anything as I kept to my seat, it was the joyful fan reactions that first drew me to the dozens of short videos posted on line as the Eras tour moved from city to city. Since the movie was shot over three nights in Los Angeles, the spectacle of a sea of young women swaying in time to Taylor as they shouted out the lyrics to hit songs like “You Belong to Me” (especially beloved by fans and me too) is missing. Instead, there are occasional brief shots of the ecstatic audience, but little sense of anyone singing along—very much a hallmark of her concerts.
At the end, as Taylor took her bows, I was actually a bit sad that it was over, and that Taylor and I had to part company. “It was a bit long,” my wife said on the way out. I am fighting hard to forgive her and keep the marriage together. It is not easy.
I am Swifty—I am Swiftier than ever…!
