Donald Trump, a former reality-TV star, has always been conscious of his set dressing as a presidential candidate. At the 2016 Republican National Convention, he made a pro-wrestling-style walk-on in front of blinding lights. In 2020, he used the White House itself as the backdrop for his acceptance speech.
But on the first night of the 2024 convention, Trump -- in a way that he could not have anticipated before Saturday -- was his own biggest prop.
Just as the major networks' prime-time coverage began, Trump entered the VIP box in Milwaukee with a large white bandage on his injured right ear, the result of a close call Saturday with a would-be assassin's bullet at a rally in Pennsylvania. A reminder of mortality, a badge of survival -- it was a blank rectangle on which the crowd could read what it wished, and that made it the most potent placard in the hall.
Trump's rallies and appearances have always been about firing up big feelings: rage, fear, grievance, defiance. This, as Trump walked out to the sounds of Lee Greenwood performing God Bless the USA, was something a little different.
The mood of the moment was emotional and warm. Much of the night felt like a merger of political rally and gospel service, full of exhortations for divine protection, not simply for the country but also for the party's returning leader.
And Trump, who has said in interviews that he does not cry, looked as close to misty as I can remember in decades of seeing him on screen.
"This is a kinder, softer Donald Trump the Republican National Convention is attempting to portray tonight," NBC's Savannah Guthrie said.
But the same questions hung over Trump, his convention and the election itself: Was everything different now? Was everything exactly the same?
The convention began after a remarkable few weeks of campaign upheaval, after months of is-this-really-happening dormancy. There was a debate that threatened the nomination of President Joe Biden; court rulings that upended Trump's legal situation; and the Pennsylvania shooting, which jolted the race and came very close to changing everything in a more gruesome way.
Then again, we were witnessing in Milwaukee the third consecutive nomination of Trump as the Republican candidate, to face (as of now) the same candidate who beat him in 2020. And while we were hearing speculation that Trump and his party might model a "new tone," you have also heard that one before.
Certainly, the first night, focused mainly on the economy and buoyed by good polls for Trump, was not as dire and apocalyptic as his 2020 convention, amid Covid and civil unrest. The setting helped as well; after a pandemic Republican convention of speakers bellowing in front of flag backdrops, we were back to conventioneers waving signs and wearing hats in a big hall.
Reportedly, the campaign expressed concern that the speeches should focus on "unity" after the shooting. There were more positive affirmations of the nominee, such as from rapper and media personality Amber Rose, who called Trump "kind and generous and funny as hell."
But "positive" is a relative term. This was still a partisan convention, and outside broadcast-network prime-time, there was still partisan rhetoric. There was still culture-warring Rep. Marjorie Taylor Green declaring, "There are only two genders." There was venture capitalist David Sacks, saying that the only thing Israel and Palestine supporters could agree on was the chant "Eff Joe Biden."
Of course, this is an election, not a team-building exercise. Candidates shouldn't lie or call for violence, but it's their job to make a vigorous case. Yet there seemed to be conflicting ideas and arguments -- good-faith or otherwise -- about what kind of rhetoric was and wasn't appropriate, both inside and outside the campaigns, and whether the sudden new rules would be applied evenly.
The convention began with a diminished liberal-commentariat industry after Saturday's shooting. MSNBC preempted Morning Joe, its bastion of Democratic and Never Trumper opinion, Monday morning. (The network, which has struggled with divides between its commentary and straight-news arms, denied political motivations.) Host Joe Scarborough rapped NBC leadership for the decision on air Tuesday morning: "We were very surprised. We were very disappointed."
Comedy Central's The Daily Show -- which returned to air nine days after the 9/11 attacks -- likewise cancelled a planned week of broadcasts from Milwaukee, citing "logistical issues and the evolving situation" in a statement. (The show plans to air episodes from New York starting Tuesday.) On the convention floor, meanwhile, Donald Trump Jr. invoked the assassination attempt to condemn an MSNBC reporter for asking about his father's immigration policy and divisive history: "Even 48 hours later, you couldn't wait."
One of the greatest wins a campaign can achieve is to get skeptics and critics to stifle themselves. Some commentators wondered if the Biden campaign would be able to go on the offensive at all. On CNN, Jonah Goldberg said the shooting had hamstrung the argument that Trump was a threat to democracy.
"I think a lot of those political criticisms are still valid," Goldberg said, "but you're not allowed to say them, and you're certainly not allowed to say them the way Joe Biden's been saying them."
Indeed, Biden spoke to NBC's Lester Holt for an interview aired in prime time, which began with Holt getting the president to call it a "mistake" to have mentioned putting Trump in a "bull's-eye." When Biden countered that Trump -- who in an early rally fantasized aloud about punching a protester in the face -- often used violent imagery and had joked about the brutal assault of Nancy Pelosi's husband, Holt said, "This doesn't sound like you're turning down the heat, though."
Of course, this is a presidential election in the year 2024. Recent history tells us that the thermostat goes in only one direction and that Trump's fingerprints have been all over it. Even amid the attempt at a quieter first night of the convention, there were signs it was coming to a simmer.
As Trump greeted the crowd, they responded with a chant, which both echoed Trump's raised-fist cry after the shooting and affirmed his long-combative approach to politics and life: "Fight! Fight! Fight!"
Was it a tribute, a battle cry or both? The tune may have changed for the night. But if you listened closely, the lyrics were familiar.