RIYADH, Saudi Arabia — The lineup was announced months ago, with top-flight stars in tennis, DJing, comedy and more set to descend on the Saudi capital for a 10-week run of events known as Riyadh Season.

But after successive missile strikes hit Riyadh's airport this month, killing more than a dozen people, shuttering parts of the country's airspace and setting off a flurry of cancellations, many wondered if audiences would show up, or if there would be anything to show up for at all.

The answer to both questions came this past weekend, when crowds gathered for Riyadh Season's opener at Boulevard City, a car-free district in the capital that's part open-air mall, part amusement park and part entertainment venue.

By the time sunset had turned to dusk, families were milling about a replica of Times Square. Patrons assembled for a sold-out comedy play at one of two theaters, while others went to a 7,000-seat arena, where a famous Lebanese pop star was debuting his comeback tour. It too was sold out.

This is a twilight moment for the Saudi capital. In normal times, October is when the convection-bake temperatures of Riyadh's ferocious summer give way to a bearable, even pleasant heat, and the city hosts dozens of large-scale events aimed at showcasing Vision 2030, the kingdom's all-out drive to transform itself into a sporting and entertainment powerhouse.

But between the U.S.-Israeli war on Iran and Riyadh's escalating grudge match with the Iran-backed Yemeni rebels known as the Houthis, these are hardly normal times.

For years, the war with the Houthis — whose official name is Ansar Allah, or Partisans of God — had ebbed and flowed between campaign and ceasefire, but for most Saudis, it had remained background noise. That changed in recent months, with a truce breaking down, and the Houthis lobbing drones, ballistic and cruise missiles across Saudi Arabia.

All of a sudden, the war took on a more present form, unsettling a kingdom unused to conflicts playing out on home turf. Almost every night in Riyadh brings the bass-drum booms and thuds of interceptors launching to destroy incoming projectiles.

Government messaging has turned pugilistic, replacing paeans to Vision 2030 and the country's leadership with images of Saudi F-15s en route to do battle over Yemen, or commercial billboards declaring "Our bravery brings us together" or "Stable home, reassured hearts."

In October alone, Houthi missile strikes on Saudi airports have killed at least 21 people and wounded hundreds, forcing authorities to shut down operations in the country's main international airport in Riyadh and curtailing travel in others. (On Sunday, officials announced some flights at the Riyadh airport had resumed.)

Schools shifted to online-only learning, while many businesses — including Saudi Aramco, the country's state-owned oil company — were ordered to evacuate headquarters and have all staff work remotely. The U.S. Embassy ordered "non-emergency U.S. government employees and their family members" in Saudi Arabia to leave.

The attacks come at an inopportune juncture. Many of the kingdom's marquee, international-facing gatherings have been affected, including the World Petroleum Congress, a summit between the European Union and Persian Gulf nations, and the government's flagship investment conference, the Future Investment Initiative.

Though the congress went ahead — with many top oil executives attending virtually — the summit and investment conference were shelved till next year. Also postponed were some of Riyadh Season's major sporting events, such as the Six Kings Slam tennis tournament.

But other events — including boxing and UFC championships and the WWE Crown Jewel event — remain stubbornly on the calendar. The first few days of Riyadh Season have gone ahead with little incident, even if participants were forced to divert to other cities or even neighboring Bahrain or Kuwait before being ferried back to the Saudi capital.

That shrugging off of the war was a common attitude among visitors to Boulevard City, organizers say.

In the replica Times Square, building-sized screens cast windows of light as people grabbed elaborate drinks made with iced tea, coffee or hibiscus. Trackless trains, their carriages mocked up as reindeer, ferried kids around a giant illuminated orb.

"Between foot traffic in Boulevard City, audiences for the plays and the concerts, we had something like 27,000 people coming in," said Hassan Albar, Boulevard City's director, a note of pride — and some relief — creeping into his voice.

"And we're still at the beginning of the season."

Despite the daily cellphone alerts that warn residents to remain indoors until danger passes, people interviewed emphasized a show-must-go-on disposition.

"We like to keep it positive, so we're not going to be staying inside. It's human nature to feel afraid if you don't have control, but the situation is fine," said Neetika Malotra, 33, who was taking pictures of Ankid Abishaikh, 34, before a Boulevard City sign.

Abishaikh said conditions in Saudi Arabia are different from how they're portrayed online.

"Our parents are outside in India, so when they see news channels or social media, it looks very scary. But we tell them that what they see there is not always right," he said.

"When you're here, everything feels normal and we're doing well."

Both the U.S.-Israel war on Iran and the Houthis' campaign have harmed Saudi Arabia's oil production, with closures of the Strait of Hormuz denying the kingdom its main energy export corridor. In addition to missiles at Riyadh's airport, the Houthis over the weekend targeted crude oil pumping stations, an oil refinery, an Aramco facility in Yanbu and the East-West Pipeline, which transports oil to terminals on the Red Sea coast.

The Saudi military has struggled to defend against Houthi missiles, hampered by the sheer size of the country — Saudi Arabia's territory is more than five times the size of California — and a fast-depleting supply of interceptors.

The fighting with the Houthis is compounding the economic headwinds forced on the kingdom by the Iran war and a general economic slowdown; Saudi officials already have had to reassess some of the grander ambitions underpinning Vision 2030.

Contractors, all of whom spoke on condition of anonymity so as not to jeopardize future professional prospects, say that staff working on so-called gigaprojects have been drawn down, reassigned or let go. Ancillary businesses — catering and events organizers — have endured losses of up to two thirds of revenues amid a cost-cutting pullback.

Yet despite those complaints, the consensus among many residents is that the war hasn't had a drastic impact on their lives, at least in terms of their sense of safety.

"It's very secure here. I don't feel anything like what's said on the news," said Abdul Rahman Al-Hassan, 38, a dentist who moved to Riyadh nine months ago from Moscow.

He compared the situation here to the Russian capital, which has been the frequent target of a Ukrainian drone campaign.

"Journalists say the same sort of thing about Moscow: That it's very dangerous and that people are hiding in their basements from the drones," he said.

"But it's not true there, and it's not true here. You can have an attack in one area, but people are still going out normally."

That may hint at a head-in-the-sand mentality, and it's hard to gauge public sentiment in a country where openly expressing dissatisfaction with government policies can land you in jail or have you deported. But among Saudis, the conflict with the Houthis appears to have spurred a rally-round-the-flag moment.

"We fully trust the government and the leadership in charge," said Awatef Mohammad, a 31-year-old English teacher strolling with her partner through Boulevard City.

Similar sentiments emerge even in places more directly in the line of fire. Over the weekend, spectators gathered at Riyadh's King Abdulaziz Racecourse for an evening of horse racing, despite the fact that the track is barely three miles from the airport.

Jamil Mohammad, a 42-year-old occupational therapist, had his children Jad and Joury in tow. He propped up Joury on a railing to watch the horses saunter past as they prepared for the race. His eyes on his daughter, he expressed a belief in God's protection that, to many outsiders, can sound like fatalism.

"Look, whether I'm here near the airport, or anywhere else in the world, if God says it's my time to die, then it's my time to die. It won't matter," he said.

"Death only comes once. I'm not going to let it stop me living my life."

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