Here at the corner of Frenchmen and Decatur, our parking has been screwed for days because a movie is being shot. That’s irritating, but I won’t complain about that. But the scenes being shot are Mardi Gras shots, and despite all the visual documentation available (not to mention stores that sell Mardi Gras decorations), what’s outside my window is chintzier and more restrained than we’d ever be. Other accuracy crimes—what’s up with cars behind barricades on the side of the street? Those get towed and fast.

Mardi Gras?

But the real crimes? 1) A lack of creativity. There are no themes or satirical costumes, just funny hats and shiny leggings and lots of color. An Uncle Sam hat on a guy in a Hawaiian shirt and a few St. Patrick’s Day hats. Frankly, we’re better than that. Creativity is in the city’s blood; if this is all people can muster, they don’t costume at all. 2) With much scrutiny, I’ve found two people out there with gray hair, but most everybody else is between 18 and 30, and there are no children to be found. Even on Frenchmen Street on Fat Tuesday, there’s a full age range on the street. It’s part of why Mardi Gras works here but not in many other American cities—because we’re socialized into it as a community event from childhood. The balcony across the street from me looks more ready for Spring Break than Mardi Gras.

What’s wrong with that? It’s hard enough to get people to believe what life in New Orleans is like under the best of circumstances (witness the number of people who found John Goodman’s Creighton Bernette hard to believe in the first season of Treme when in fact we were all Creightons and pontificating for at least a year); having someone disregard the things that make our civic events remarkable and treat us like a prop is offensive. I’d prefer that we serve as a stand-in for Memphis (which we do for TNT’s Memphis Beat) than be casually misrepresented yet again.

Gumbo Party, anyone?