Filmmaker Ian Mantgani traveled from London to Cleveland in July to join Belt for the Republican National Convention. Here, just in time for Thanksgiving weekend, is the stunning result. Trump, Tamir, hope, despair, casual racism and potent rage: it's all here. Enjoy.
I’m eating an Isaly’s chipped chopped ham sandwich on a bench outside a convenience store in Pittsburgh. A racist sits across from me. We are both from the Midwest, yet thousands of miles distant in terms of worldview.
Meeting up with a couple non-media, non-RNC-affiliated locals for a pre-dinner drink, I asked for their first impressions on the circus. As a steady parade of politically costumed outsiders streamed
When big events come to town, a city needs to clean house, make everything shine. Think Bejing in 2008, as it prepared to host the Olympics. Think Rio De Janiero right now.
Old Stone Church, 10:15 a.m. Thursday. A banner on the front door reads, “Exhale Love!” Exhale. But not yet. Old Stone Church, 10:15 a.m. Thursday. It feels as though the entire city is waiting, holding its breath.
I arrived in Cleveland convinced the RNC would be the death of me. There is not a drop of hyperbole in this statement. And it’s true what they say: when people think they’re close to death, they do crazy things.
“There’s a saying in America,” says Ian Vargas. “It’s be careful of what you wish for, you just might get it.” Ian Vargas and Gina Perez are giving Trump what he wants. A wall.