BRISTOL _ Against the backdrop of a pristine summer day, American democracy was celebrated Saturday in a pageant of marching, music and patriotic display whose roots are almost as deep as the Republic. The 224th Bristol celebration, built around a nearly four-hour-long parade, once again did not disappoint.

As so many have since Bristol began its tradition in the 18th Century, this parade featured an uncommonly large assembly of bands, floats, soldiers, sailors, veterans, politicians, police, weapons, vehicles and horses. The New England weather, so ornery during June and into July, was certain to fix Independence Day 2009 firmly in the memory, especially for a child: blue sky laced with puffy clouds, tolerable humidity, temperatures in the mid-70s.

“Very fun,” said 8-year-old Emma Gianetti of Lincoln. “I like the clowns and the dancing policeman.” Emma wore a stars-and-stripes hat and a red-white-and-blue tee shirt emblazoned with “America the Beautiful” on the back.

“I love it,” said Kersty MacLean, 15, of East Bridgewater, Mass. “The kids get to see some fun things. We get to commemorate the veterans.”

Said Kersty’s mother, Deirdre: “It’s important to honor our country.”

Many of the several tens of thousands who watched the parade likely shared these sentiments. But for a middle-age man from a place that’s literally halfway around the world, the experience prompted a different appreciation of what the Founding Fathers bequeathed to generations of Americans on July 4, 1776 –– an appreciation only someone who has tasted tyranny could have.

Journalist and filmmaker Zinatullo Ismoilov grew up in Tajikistan (which sits on Afghanistan’s northern border) when the central Asian country of 7.2 million people was part of the Soviet Union. Political opposition was punished by imprisonment or death; the totalitarian state controlled the press. Democracy came to Ismoilov and his country when the Soviet Union collapsed in 1991 and Tajikistan declared its independence.

With a filmmaker’s eye, Ismoilov observed the happenings around him.

“I can feel the patriotic attitude of the people,” he said. “Flags are hung outside doors and people are dressed in a certain way. You can feel that people feel it’s stable in America, it’s safe, and they have hopes for the future. People are very sincere here. They have smiling faces and they are happy.”

Ismoilov spoke through a translator, Nigina Alieva, an employee of the American embassy in Dushanbe, the capitol of Tajikistan, where the filmmaker lives –– and where he founded and now operates a small independent television station, SMT, that broadcasts eight hours a day.

Echoes of the Soviet Union remain, with government influence over Tajikistan’s media. But not SMT-TV, Ismoilov said.

“We are an island of free speech in Tajikistan,” he said. “We always try to have at least two sides of a story.”

And, so, he savors freedom, wherever he finds it.

“Very much,” he said, in Russian, which is also spoken in his country, along with Tajiki.

As marchers assembled in advance of the 10:30 a.m. kickoff, Ismoilov and his cameraman, Makhmadrabbi Ismoilov, a relative, walked past floats toward the corner of Hope and Chestnut Streets, the official start of the parade. With them was producer Antony A. Botto, an employee of the U.S. Department of State, which awarded the filmmakers a $26,000 grant for the documentary, whose main theme is small-business development. On Friday, the filmmakers rolled tape at Quito’s, a fish market and restaurant on Thames Street.

“Oldest parade in America –– it’s kind of a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, right?” said a U.S. Navy captain, who gave the crew Navy necklaces, which they wore, and then extended his hand. “Welcome. Welcome to America!”

After technical problems foiled an attempt to call in a live report on his cell phone to station SMT-TV’s six o’clock (p.m.) news, Ismoilov and his crew headed into action.

On Hope Street, they were introduced to Sen. Sheldon Whitehouse, who extended his welcome. They encountered Governor Carcieri, who delivered a brief history of Bristol’s 224 years of continuous Fourth of July celebrations. Learning the topic of their movie, Carcieri spoke of Rhode Island: “Eighty percent of the state is small business. So very important. In this economic downturn, the small businesses were hurting badly.”

The parade began, and the filmmakers, whose equipment consisted of a video camera, a tripod and a still camera, set up on Hope near Fort Hill Road. Much like young Emma Gianetti, almost everything seemed to fascinate them, from the musket-firing colonial militiamen to the antique cars to the clowns.

Seeing Star Wars characters, translator Alieva, a Tajikistan native who holds a master’s degree from an American university, talked of how popular the George Lucas films were in her country. Ismoilov waved at Ronald McDonald; the chain has no restaurants in their country, Alieva said, “but everyone knows what McDonald’s is.” Not so the Shriners, many of whom, wearing their distinctive fezzes, rode in miniature cars. Ismoilov and Alieva were impressed when told they are a fraternal group that supports children’s hospitals.

As the two-hour mark passed, a spectator observed: “Long parade.”

“Independence is long, too,” Ismoilov said, through his translator. “Two-hundred-something years.”

So the filmmaker was enjoying his American experience?

He gave a thumbs up and said, in Russian: “Very much.”

And then, in English: “Perfect!”

gwmiller@projo.com / (401) 277-7380