The new Democratic Party

I watched most of the major speeches from the Democratic convention this week, and like many others, I was often moved to tears by their eloquent rhetoric and fighting spirit. Hillary Clinton was forceful and gracious in her endorsement of Barack Obama. Bill Clinton gave an even more compelling and stirring speech. And to my surprise, John Kerry gave the best speech of the night and of his career on Wednesday: rousing, inspiring, and tough.

For too long, Democrats have been on the defensive, and for me it’s thrilling to hear our leaders speak movingly and without apology about our core values. Although the bar seemed impossibly high for Barack in his acceptance speech last night, he spoke with grace and power. I was moved not only by his words, but by the fact that in my lifetime I was watching an African American candidate accept the nomination of my party to be president of the United States.

Republicans and especially right-wing talk radio hosts have worked determinedly to demonize the word “liberal” for decades. No convention speaker used the word “liberal,” or even its euphemism “progressive” at the convention, but every speaker was clear on our message of compassion, activism, and the proper role of government in facing the challenges of the new American century. I was especially moved by the fierce patriotism of the speakers, a patriotism that goes beyond flag waving and bellicose pronouncements of our military superiority. As Kerry said, “Other countries are inspired more by the power of our example than by the examples of our power.”

It’s going to be a tough election, but I’m cautiously elated at the prospect of a Democratic President working with a newly energized Democratic Congress. Putting our principles to work in a complex world will be an enormous challenge, but at this moment for me, the sun shines brightly on the American Experiment.

History has already been made.

Ivory at the Ragland

Last night, the Ross Ragland Theater (now a lovely performing arts theater) kicked off its new Monday Night at the Movies series in grand fashion. Director James Ivory, a graduate of Klamath Falls Union High School many years ago, introduced his film A Room With A View and took questions for forty-five minutes after the screening.

Eat your heat out New York City. K-Falls is making a determined run at becoming the new American cultural capital. And the series is free. (Five dollar donation requested. I dropped in a twenty because I’m such a big spender.)

It was a fine evening. About six hundred people showed up to see the film and hear Ivory talk about growing up in Klamath Falls and coming to the Ragland to watch movies when it was an Art Deco-styled movie theater during the war.

After the showing of A Room, he answered a range of questions about directing, casting, his artistic vision, and growing up in Klamath Falls. Listening to him talk gave special meaning to the film we had just seen. And of all the questions, only one was truly stupid. Actually, three questions were truly stupid, but they were from the same woman. A touching moment, to be expected, came when the current drama teacher at KU said she has her students read A Room With a View and then watch the film. Ivory was featured in a recent KU yearbook, which she presented to him. Several of the questions were obviously from her students, most of them a variation on “how do I get started in the movies.” And his patient answers were always a variation on “watch a lot of movies, go to a good film school, work hard.”

A Room with a View is based on an E. M. Forester story, and I hadn’t seen it before. It’s a lovely film set in Italy and England, a light comedy of manners. Sadly, the sound quality was not great at the screening and I missed at least half the dialogue, but now I’ll just rent it to hear what I missed. (I usually have trouble with British dialogue anyway.) He also said his favorite personal film is Mr. and Mrs. Bridge, which I also haven’t seen, so I’ll have to start there in my plan to view all of his films.

Ivory is eighty years old but looks and acts much younger.

The series continues, not every Monday night, with planned screenings of The Hunt for Red October, The Philadelphia Story, and On Paper Wings. Various screenwriters and filmmakers are scheduled to introduce and take questions.

I look forward to more.

With a little help from my friends

Mary and I saw Joe Cocker at the Britt Festival last night, and I’ve got to say, the old guy has his chops. He’s lost most of the spastic intensity of his physical performance and just a little off his range, but I still love his covers of mostly Beatles songs, along with Randy Newman’s deliciously racy “You Can Leave Your Hat On.”

But his signature song is “With a Little Help From My Friends,” and it brought a few tears to my ears, in part because of the few troubles I’m facing in my own life right now. In part because I'm a sappy sentimentalist.

For a somewhat doctored and very humorous clip of his legendary Woodstock performance of that song in 1969, check this out:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T4_MsrsKzMM I almost went to Woodstock, but that's a story for another time.

It was a perfect evening for an outdoor concert, with mild temperatures and wild geese circling in to land in the ponds around the amphitheater. And thousands of aging baby boomer rock and roll fans like Mary and me still getting up to dance now and then to the anthems of those years that seem both far away and still very near.

Steve Miller Band also played, also very good though they were never a band I particularly followed. We drove back to our trailer that we'd camped on the Rogue River and had broiled steaks and microwaved mashed potatoes at midnight, a perfect evening.