I browse local news & New Orleans social media every morning. And every morning, since Mardi Gras, I've come across a fresh dew of digital notices that take the form of: What Uptown Teahouse was Mr. Wildcat LeBeouf Found Crawling About Today????
Should I possess the will to roll my eyes, chug my coffee, scroll on, and live with the fact that Hollywood and the Fourth Estate have shared a bed with very warm sheets since the 1920s? Yeah—probably. But I’ve discovered that I lack such power.
Instead, foam continues to collect at each corner of my mouth everytime I see the actor’s name appear in 20+ font.
I understand why the rest of the world might choose to obsess and chatter until their fillings crack over a former Disney Channel kid headbutting and stumbling and relapsing his way through a New Orleans Mardi Gras. What I do not understand is why many here have latched onto the imagery as something to dwell on and draw out.
Sure, I understand how LeBuff slobbering over his ROR papers while posted up on Bourbon Street a few hours following an arrest for assaulting patrons and staff outside of a local and well-liked Marigny establishment is a reasonable enough subject to let live and die within a weekend news cycle. But from there, isn’t it TMZ’s job to stalk the troubled scoundrel?
Instead, there’s been a piranha frenzy around his every move. Should I care that a washed-up movie star was discovered eating pita bread on the Saj astroturf?
The media, in its various forms, seems to suggest that the answer is yes, and refuses to turn its gaze from the Peanut Butter Falcon stars' violent outburst, which was really just the same behavior witnessed from a select few out-of-town fools every Carnival season. And, now, it's focused on the fact that it seems like he’s here to stay.
Why does it matter?
New Orleans should be—and typically is—one of the least likely places to sell itself out for the attention of bigshot celebrity appearances. We have our own people to celebrate. And, just as much, we have our own people and issues to criticize and trouble ourselves over; there are enough high-profile trials in our future as it stands.
Nobody should give a damn if Schia LeighBouf went to the Maple Leaf on a Monday night to see George Porter Jr. We should give a damn that George Porter Jr. is kind enough to perform there every Monday, regardless of how well we behave.
Maybe I’m on tilt. But something I love about New Orleans is how culturally unbothered it is by the rest of the nonsense that goes down in all the other places people flee from to visit here. However, this unnatural episode has, for some reason, stuck around and created an imbalance in a city that shouldn’t care about the odd presence of a Shia LaBeouf, so long as it quiets down and quits squaring up with bartenders.
So holding him accountable for his actions is one thing, but he was just one of 185 arrests made in New Orleans over Mardi Gras, and carrying out some sustained tabloid binge is entirely useless.
To quote a good movie from 2003, "I'm tired of this, Grandpa!"