The Rake Magazine

Author: Cristina Córdova

  • Not with a Bang, But a Whimper

    This is the way the Democratic Primary season ends, not with a bang but a whimper.

    The presidential campaign that started with a listening tour designed to state the obvious — that people wanted Hillary Clinton to run — will end the same way, with people telling her it’s time to hang it up.

    Earlier in the day, McCain’s speech got the attention of the crowd. Two hours later, as Hillary addresses supporters in New York, there is not even a mention of the event inside this venue.

    Hillary Clinton is speaking in New York. She looks more relaxed than she has looked throughout her entire campaign, but gives the same speech she has been giving all along. Nothing new. Even now. Nothing new.

    "This is a long race, and I will not be making any decisions tonight."

    There will be no concession this evening, my friend.

    She asks the viewers to visit her website, as if somehow raising her traffic numbers will win her the race.

    She thanks. And she thanks. And she thanks her family, of course. She thanks Bill, of course.

    And she tells us of a woman in South Dakota, a woman who wants health care, and woman who — like everyone in this country — should have health care. And she is right. But we all know this.

    "There is nothing we all can’t do, if we just start acting like Americans again."

    She’s right. We’re not acting like Americans. Thank goodness.

    And yet… aren’t we?

    Here in the Xcel Center, no one is hearing this speech. Here we are all listening to Stevie Wonder and watching ourselves cheer on the overhead screen. Here we are clueless, except for those with laptops and portable devices.

    Here — down in the press area — we are worshiping our gods. Thomas Friedman is passing again, my friends. And Hill is done.

     

  • Turn It Down

    Press access to the general public has now been cut off. The only way out of the press area is through the tunnel.

    According to Tim Russert, Obama’s people are negotiating Hillary’s withdrawal. Hillary insists she should be offered the VP position, so she can turn it down and withdraw with dignity. Obama’s people are game, as long as she puts it in writing that she will not accept.

    At this point, it’s hard to say what speech to expect. How long before the Democratic nominee can gloat a little?

    Tom Friedman just walked in surrounded by cameras. Biggest star treatment yet. Thomas Jefferson arriving in Paris.

    8:25 p.m.

    The Xcel Center is filled to capacity, the crowd high on caffeinated drinks, fried foods and nachos are getting restless. We’re told the Xcel administration cut the crowd off at 20,000, but the center continues to fill with people, even behind the press risers, where the view, if any, is very limited.

    Outside the stragglers and protesters are dispersing. Inside the music is blaring.

    Hillary Clinton is expected to speak to her followers in New York at any moment.

    In 39 minutes the final polls close, and this marathon of a primary will end.

    Tonight, the buck stops here.

     

  • MSNBC — Reporting from the Twin Cities

    The screams continue as the overhead screens show MSNBC reporting from right here, the Xcel Center. Ah… now I understand why news reports always show people cheering in the background. They’re just cheering themselves on. How quaint. Somehow, as a viewer, you always assume the cheers are for the politician. (I should have known better.)

    It’s 7:12 PM, and the entire front area of the arena — the only part from whence you can see the stage — is now full. My bad. I see about twenty seats in the upper far corner, all the way in back.

    O-BAMA! O-BAMA! The crowd chants.

    Really we’re just sitting here watching the news, only with more applause — and more traffic on the way here.

    7:44 — Watching McCain’s speech in Lousianna.

    7:56 — "Yes We Can" video playing overhead.

  • Eye of the Storm

    After the press is settled in, the doors open to the general public. It’s about 10 past six. The crowds file in, steadily, slowly, filling the arena. Is this an arena? I think it is. And right now, it feels like we’re the show — broken gladiators. I don’t see anyone turn to the crowd. Photographers line up on the riser before the stage. The rest of us sit at tables behind them, on computers, on phones, jabbering away with fellow reporters, documenters of the times.

    $175 for an internet connection. $175! There are two of us. One of us will Twitter from the phone. Awful. Just awful. $175! (So much for Minneapolis public wi-fi when you’re in St. Paul.) Sodas are $4. They banned me from the $2 soda machine, which I though was bad enough.

    About three sections of the Xcel Center are completely full. That and half the center area — with press folk, of course.

    The crowds will continue to file in. We will continue to wait. It’ll be a while before the Man arrives. But now, he appears on the overhead screens. The crowd roars.

  • When I say "O", You Say "Bama!"

    7:00 p.m.

    Out on the sidewalk, the lines of people snake around the block. A pack of Obama playing cards sells for $10.

    The Obama volunteers are warming up the crowd as they make their way into the venue.

    "When I say O," chants one Obama volunteer. "You say…"

    "BAMA!" the crowd yells back.

  • Meet the Press

    Finding the press area was hard enough. All the way on the other side. No, go back the way you came. Straight down there and to the left. Down by the loading area. Across the street. Down. Down. Really? We have to cross the street — away from the Xcel Center — to get in. You’re kidding me.

    No. It’s true.

    I’ve never been here before, you see. And I’m already overwhelmed. But… this is the press. This is underwhelming — albeit the Harley strapped on to the back of a truck station. That’s something.

    The press area — an underground tunnel across the avenue and into the Xcel Center — is packed with… well — press. Your typical press peeps, really. Lots of ties. Ties with jeans. Slacks. Cameras. Suitcase even. Fairly loaded all around. I’m traveling light today.

    The workers keep telling everyone to be patient. They’re letting in live TV, 5-o’clock news in first. Of course. Makes sense to me. So why are people complaining?

    At least an hour and half until the doors open to the public (the beautiful public). Two more hours, more like three, until Obama steps up to the plate.

    Why are people complaining.

    We talk to a freelance photographer who is also waiting to get in. She never made it outside. Here’s the press, corralled into an underground tunnel, as the stories form outside. What are we doing here.

    Finally, they take us one more stage in the journey that awaits us — about 50 feet forward, to another line. Really? Why do we have to stand in lines? We can’t work here. Can’t we sit off to the sides? Can’t we mingle? Ask questions? Explore? We stand in line.

    But first the people roar as they run — yes, run! — fifty feet to the line. Yay! Another line. You’ve got to be kidding.

    One line here. Another there. There are about four separate lines, all at cross-purposes. The volunteers apologies. They blame it on the dogs. The dogs are busy sniffing for explosives now. I wonderful what god-awful place I may have placed my bag recently.

    Members of the press grow inpatient. Volunteers apologize, keep it in control. Members of the press grow indignant. One man raises his voice, upset because they’ve held him back due to his heavy loads. The dogs need to sniff them for explosives — now more than ever.

    Why are the media folks just standing there? Why is not even a single one of the 30-or-so photographers snapping photos? Why? Why?!

    Meet the press.

    …off to the metal detector.

  • Something in the Air

    I’m not easily moved — not
    by people anyhow, not by masses, that is. I was certainly moved by
    Brendel’s performance at Orchestra Hall a few months ago. And now, now
    I am moved. This time by people coming together. How sappy that sounds.
    How cynical I am.

    The Xcel is engulfed in bodies, live
    beautiful bodies, bodies of all ages, though I see few elderly folks
    (it’s harder and harder to leave the home), bodies in all tones, shades, and
    shapes, all styles, all types. Bodies everywhere.

    Something is happening here. That’s the overwhelming feeling. Something is happening. And I’m overwhelmed.

    A young blonde girl peruses a panel of Obama buttons held by an eager red-faced man in his early 40s perhaps.

    Three Somali women sit cross-legged on the grass behind her, next to six or seven teenagers sprawled across the cement.

    Something is happening and no one seems to want to miss it. They all seem to know.

    I
    get the feeling if it starts to rain these people will build a tent
    together. Perfect item for the 5-o’clock news. (We still have 5-o’clock
    news.)

    I’m a hopeless (helpless)
    romantic; it’s true. I live for this shit, but I don’t really believe
    in it. I’m skeptical, of course. I’m always disappointed. Something is
    happening, but is it? Should I be concerned that so many people think
    something is happening, when in fact, it’s not that big. It’s not that
    huge. Are we so easily impressed?

    No. We’re that desperate. And
    that’s OK. You have to start somewhere. And if this many people think
    something is happening, then, by Jove, something is happening.

    That’s something.


    More later… I’ll continue posting as the evening progresses.

  • Jumping Off the Kawarau Bridge

    Dear Daughter,

    Having a grand time in New Zealand, but if you don’t stop fussing, we’re not sending any more postcards. Just remember that 70 is the new 30. Guess what’s hot in Queenstown? [reference to postcard photo — bungy jumping off the Kawarau Bridge] Sometimes in the nude! We tried it with our clothes on. A nice young man on the bridge held my cane while your father and I jumped holding hands. I had no idea your father could scream like that!

    xxoo
    Mom and Dad

    Mom and Dad, from Karawau
    Letter

  • Bags Save Lives

    Today marks the opening of Imaginary Bags at One On One Bicycle Studio (117 North Washington).

    For one week, a limited series edition of messanger bags — with one-of-a-kind graphics by eight local and national artists — will be on display at One On One, and open for auction bids.

    The weeklong event — a collaboration between Crumpler Bags, One On One, and the artists/designers —  culminates on June 7th with a fundraising party featuring a silent auction to raise money for the Mark Loesch Memorial Fund. Mark Loesch is a Minneapolis resident who was killed last fall while riding his bike.

  • A Recipe for Hilarity

    What do you get when you take the cult classic Monty Python and The Holy Grail,
    add a bit of the British comedy troupe’s other great movies and music,
    toss in a pinch of Broadway cliché and a dash of pop culture, and throw
    it all into a blender?

    SPAMALOT!

    With such an incredible following, it would be unthinkable for Monty Python to just take the plot of The Holy Grail,
    add a few musical numbers, and let ‘er rip on Broadway. Instead, the
    Pythons took the opportunity to build on their comedic legacy by
    parodying not only themselves, but every Broadway and pop culture
    reference they could get their hands on. Amazingly enough … it worked!

    The broad outline of The Holy Grail remains intact.
    King Arthur still assembles his cast of knights to seek the holy grail,
    and encounters weird and wild obstacles along the way. But some
    elements of the film’s plot were moved around a bit, and songs from other Monty
    Python productions were added and revised to fit the plot.

    Spamalot’s
    outlandish satirization of Broadway’s most glaring clichés helps form
    a diverted plot twist in the second act, in which Arthur realizes that
    the only way he’ll find the Holy Grail is by putting on a Broadway play. Don’t
    worry; this is far from a spoiler, as the pursuit of the Broadway play
    becomes it’s own hilarious journey.

    Never taking their stint on Broadway too seriously, Monty Python takes on the self-mocking task of weaving together Broadway and pop culture spoofs with references to The Producers, Phantom of the Opera, Cats, West Side Story, and The Wizard of Oz, just to name a few. All this while moving along the adapted storyline of Monty Python and and the Holy Grail.

    Andrew
    Lloyd Webber     takes the brunt of the Broadway chastisement, however,
    even getting referenced by name by the knights who say "Ni," when they
    make the stipulation that the Broadway show that Arthur produces cannot
    be an Andrew Lloyd Webber play. When his name is uttered it elicits a
    screech even louder than that when the word "Ni" is used.

    Lloyd
    Webber’s Phantom of the Opera also gets parodied when the Lady of the
    Lake does a duet with Sir Galahad, singing "The Song That Goes Like
    This" a la "Music of the Night" or "All I Ask of You" or "Wishing You
    Were Somehow Here Again" from Phantom. The song’s title refers
    to the Broadway cliché that there is always a climactic song (or two or
    three) in musicals when the male and female leads come together at
    last and sing a long, overly dramatic song to each other.

    Rife
    with sarcasm, the song’s opening lyrics reads, "Once in every show,
    there comes a song like this. It starts off soft and low, and ends up
    with a kiss."

    Not
    only does Arthur’s path change in the play, but so does that of Brave,
    Brave Sir Robin, who learns that he wants to work in musical theater,
    and the outed Sir Lancelot who finds that his "Holy Grail" is to "Find
    your male."

    Patrick Heusinger, who returns to Minnesota, where he played young Lars in the 2005 film Sweetland,
    puts in the best performance of the evening as Sir Lancelot … and The
    French Taunter … and Knight of Ni … and Tim The Enchanter. That’s
    right; he plays four parts, each as bold and audacious as the last. His
    performance is the most reminiscent of the original cast of The Holy Grail.

    The
    Lady of the Lake character is a welcome addition to the plot, only
    appearing as a reference in the Holy Grail film. Played by Esther
    Stilwell, the stereotypical diva has her mind set on marrying King
    Arthur from the beginning. Not only is her character a diva, but the
    songs that she sings are reminiscent of pop divas Mariah Carey,
    Cristina Aguilera, and Celine Dion … on steroids. Stilwell’s
    deliberately pitchy singing and overly dramatic performances poke fun
    at the Diva culture.

    If
    there is something missing from the film version, it is the
    characteristicly high male voices that the Monty Python crew brought to The Holy Grail. There are one or two scattered about in Spamalot, but nothing like the Monty Python movies.

    Fans of The Holy Grail should fear not, though. Such classic Grail
    scenes as Bring out your dead, the killer rabbit, the Black Knight,
    the french taunters, and the knights that say "Ni" still play a role in Spamalot.
    Some of them have gotten even funnier and have been expanded to include
    outlandishly choreographed musical numbers to further the stage plot.

    The musical expansion of Grail’s plot
    is best exemplified by the transformation of the vignette song "Knights
    of the Round Table" from the movie, into a lavish Vegas-meets-Broadway-meets-Camelot number that features showgirls twirling maces, a monk
    swing dancing with a nun, a Cher/Liza Minelli/Amy Winehouse lounge
    singer, and King Arthur’s round "roulette" table.

    So, grab yourself a little Vegas, add a splash of Camelot, mix-in a little Oz, and drink down some Spamalot. And remember, what happens in Spamelot … stays in Spamelot.

    Tickets are still available for Spamalot at the Orpheum Theater through June 1.