Latest news with #DavisGuggenheim
Yahoo
23-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
A Striking Moment in American Activism
They chained the campus gates, occupied buildings, and burned effigies. They pounded on car hoods, waved hand-drawn signs, roared in rage. In the spring of 1988, students at Gallaudet University, a school for the Deaf in Washington, D.C., staged a week-long protest that drew international attention. That year, Gallaudet was on the cusp of finally appointing a Deaf president for the first time in its 104-year history, but the non-Deaf board of trustees balked, choosing a hearing person over two Deaf candidates. Though she later denied it, Jane Bassett Spilman, the board's chair, reportedly said, 'Deaf people are not ready to function in a hearing world.' Incensed, the students revolted, demanding representation. Beyond lively protests, they also organized their messaging and communicated passionately to the press. What was at first written off as mere youthful rebellion, destined to fizzle out, ultimately yielded the appointment of a Deaf president, and helped galvanize the greater movement that led to the passage of the Americans With Disabilities Act. The new Apple TV+ documentary Deaf President Now! chronicles the students' actions, which amounted to one of the most effective campus protests of the modern era. Co-directed by Davis Guggenheim (An Inconvenient Truth) and the Deaf activist, actor, and author Nyle DiMarco, the film unearths a particular period in American activism and a hinge point in Gallaudet's history, but it also doubles as an argument for thinking differently about Deafness, and disability, in general. (Guggenheim's production company, Concordia Studio, is funded by Laurene Powell Jobs and Emerson Collective, which also owns The Atlantic.) At a time when college campuses, corporations, and the U.S. government are diminishing—or even overturning—DEI initiatives, the movie's message feels especially resonant. Deaf President Now! is by no means scold-y or preachy, but it asks those who can hear to contemplate the many layers of life as a Deaf or disabled person. Layers, not Deaf, is the operative word in that sentence. The film compels viewers to reckon with what all people are owed, regardless of their bodily traits or circumstance. As its story illustrates, the disabled experience is far from cookie-cutter or one-dimensional. Deaf people want the same things that hearing people want: to be treated as full citizens, to be respected, to live their life with dignity, to have their needs understood by those in power. The week-long protest was so significant because, at its core, it demanded that hearing people see (and hear) Deaf people in an unmediated way. 'What's the microphone for?' It's a simple, profound query that one of the protest leaders poses during the present-day interviews that are interspliced with archival footage. The question is valid, given that the former Gallaudet student organizers, now nearing retirement age, address the camera by using American Sign Language. They're lively and expressive, signing with their whole body, retaining the fiery, opinionated vibe from their undergraduate days. Frequently in Hollywood, sign language is accompanied by captions, but the directors of Deaf President Now! opted to use voice-overs when the Deaf interviewees are on set. Some audience members might view this as a curious choice. A day after watching the film, I came to see it as a compelling inversion: ASL is its own language, and, for those who don't understand it—likely the overwhelming percentage of hearing people—the directors had introduced an accommodation. Watching the film, I was also struck by the sound design, which shrewdly oscillates between hearing and Deaf perspectives. There are, in the movie's opening minutes, the sonic minutiae of daily life: police sirens, a plane landing, a subway car pulling into a station, the pfffft when popping open a bottle. At other points, you see leaves rustling on campus but don't hear them scrape against the ground; when someone pulls a fire alarm, lights flash, but no sound is emitted. Crucially, though, the directors work to show that everyone inhabits the same world, just with different experiences. [Read: A disability film unlike any other] Deafness, like all disabilities, exists on a spectrum. Some people are born Deaf; others become Deaf later in life. Those who have diminished hearing may also consider themselves part of the Deaf community. Though this movie is not a history or topography of Deafness, it does examine the nuances of Deaf culture by showcasing the varied (and even contradictory) stories of how the student leaders came of age. Specifically, the film illustrates the battle between the medical and social models of disability. Under the former, Deafness would be considered an affliction to be 'cured' or 'fixed' with tools and interventions to enable a Deaf person to conform to the expectations of a hearing world. (One of the student activists, for example, recalls being pulled out of class as a kid to go to speech therapy, where he would place his hand on a teacher's nose to understand a hearing person's breath flow as they spoke certain words.) But under the social model, which has grown in prevalence in recent decades, disability is just another aspect of human existence, like someone's hair or eye color. This tension in perspective primacy permeates the film; in 1988, it undergirded the Gallaudet board's initial decision to select yet another hearing person as president. The person they chose, Elisabeth Zinser, did not know sign language. In the end, the protest arguably reached its apex not on the grounds of the school but on national television. One of the student leaders, Greg Hlibok, appeared on ABC's Nightline, opposite Zinser. Along with the Deaf actor Marlee Matlin, he made his case to the host, Ted Koppel, but also to the millions watching at home. Seeing Hlibok on-screen is especially affecting: He is young, inexperienced, and finding his way to his message in real time. He demands respect for himself and his classmates. He gets it. Zinser withdraws, and a Deaf member of the faculty, Irving King Jordan, is appointed. In some ways, it may be hard to believe that Gallaudet went so long—well more than a century—without a Deaf president, a leader who could intrinsically understand the needs and lives of the students. Although other schools for the Deaf exist, Gallaudet is unique: It draws Deaf people from all over the world and is seen as an oasis where disabled people aren't othered. I grew up several miles away from the campus, and I'm a hearing person, but I recall as a kid once having a Deaf counselor at basketball camp, someone who hooped at Gallaudet. He was smooth, fast, and confident on the court; I was young, and I remember wondering, sheepishly, how he could play the game at all if he couldn't hear the whistle. It was a question that didn't need asking; he managed just fine, and was better than other players his age. That admittedly basic concept—that Deaf people don't need hearing people worrying about or patronizing them—is one of the key themes of the film. DiMarco, the documentary's Deaf co-director, told me over Zoom that, in his first conversation with Guggenheim, he made clear that he didn't want this project 'to be framed as a story of pity.' (DiMarco signed his answers and we communicated through an interpreter.) Guggenheim didn't need convincing. He had taken a similar approach for his 2023 film Still, which follows Michael J. Fox's journey with Parkinson's disease. When making that movie, Fox told Guggenheim 'no violins'—meaning no smarm, no Hallmark-channel vibes. [Read: What Michael J. Fox figured out] Though the '88 protest happened before DiMarco was born, he knew its legacy as a child and went on to graduate from Gallaudet himself. In his adult years, he became somewhat of a familiar face after winning a season of America's Next Top Model and competing on Dancing With the Stars. Growing up, DiMarco told me, none of the Deaf characters he saw on-screen resonated with him. 'I often wondered why they couldn't get it right,' he said. 'I've really learned that the key to success in telling authentic stories is having Deaf people behind the camera.' He told me he has more than 25 extended family members who are Deaf and that no one in his family uses the term hearing impaired, which is often deemed ableist. 'I'd say probably the most prevalent misconception is that Deaf people don't carry any sense of pride,' he said. 'I think a lot of hearing people are very shocked when I say I love being Deaf,' he continued. 'I have culture, language, our community, our history. I think that's a very, very big misconception that I'm working every day to correct.' Beyond helping audiences understand some of the Deaf experience, DiMarco told me he hopes this film will resonate because of the civil disobedience at its center. Though he and Guggenheim started making the film six years ago, it's being released amid a wave of attacks against DEI initiatives. The present environment is not lost on him. 'I think today we've really forgotten how to protest,' he said. He acknowledged that he's not sure if, were the same demonstration to occur today, it would have the same outcome. But that possibility doesn't mean the fight for disabled dignity—the fight for dignity of all kinds—is any less salient. Article originally published at The Atlantic
Atlantic
23-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Atlantic
The Student Protest That Captured America's Attention
They chained the campus gates, occupied buildings, and burned effigies. They pounded on car hoods, waved hand-drawn signs, roared in rage. In the spring of 1988, students at Gallaudet University, a school for the Deaf in Washington, D.C., staged a week-long protest that drew international attention. That year, Gallaudet was on the cusp of finally appointing a Deaf president for the first time in its 104-year history, but the non-Deaf board of trustees balked, choosing a hearing person over two Deaf candidates. Though she later denied it, Jane Bassett Spilman, the board's chair, reportedly said, 'Deaf people are not ready to function in a hearing world.' Incensed, the students revolted, demanding representation. Beyond lively protests, they also organized their messaging and communicated passionately to the press. What was at first written off as mere youthful rebellion, destined to fizzle out, ultimately yielded the appointment of a Deaf president, and helped galvanize the greater movement that led to the passage of the Americans With Disabilities Act. The new Apple TV+ documentary Deaf President Now! chronicles the students' actions, which amounted to one of the most effective campus protests of the modern era. Co-directed by Davis Guggenheim (An Inconvenient Truth) and the Deaf activist, actor, and author Nyle DiMarco, the film unearths a particular period in American activism and a hinge point in Gallaudet's history, but it also doubles as an argument for thinking differently about Deafness, and disability, in general. (Guggenheim's production company, Concordia Studio, is funded by Laurene Powell Jobs and Emerson Collective, which also owns The Atlantic.) At a time when college campuses, corporations, and the U.S. government are diminishing —or even overturning—DEI initiatives, the movie's message feels especially resonant. Deaf President Now! is by no means scold-y or preachy, but it asks those who can hear to contemplate the many layers of life as a Deaf or disabled person. Layers, not Deaf, is the operative word in that sentence. The film compels viewers to reckon with what all people are owed, regardless of their bodily traits or circumstance. As its story illustrates, the disabled experience is far from cookie-cutter or one-dimensional. Deaf people want the same things that hearing people want: to be treated as full citizens, to be respected, to live their life with dignity, to have their needs understood by those in power. The week-long protest was so significant because, at its core, it demanded that hearing people see (and hear) Deaf people in an unmediated way. 'What's the microphone for?' It's a simple, profound query that one of the protest leaders poses during the present-day interviews that are interspliced with archival footage. The question is valid, given that the former Gallaudet student organizers, now nearing retirement age, address the camera by using American Sign Language. They're lively and expressive, signing with their whole body, retaining the fiery, opinionated vibe from their undergraduate days. Frequently in Hollywood, sign language is accompanied by captions, but the directors of Deaf President Now! opted to use voice-overs when the Deaf interviewees are on set. Some audience members might view this as a curious choice. A day after watching the film, I came to see it as a compelling inversion: ASL is its own language, and, for those who don't understand it—likely the overwhelming percentage of hearing people—the directors had introduced an accommodation. Watching the film, I was also struck by the sound design, which shrewdly oscillates between hearing and Deaf perspectives. There are, in the movie's opening minutes, the sonic minutiae of daily life: police sirens, a plane landing, a subway car pulling into a station, the pfffft when popping open a bottle. At other points, you see leaves rustling on campus but don't hear them scrape against the ground; when someone pulls a fire alarm, lights flash, but no sound is emitted. Crucially, though, the directors work to show that everyone inhabits the same world, just with different experiences. Deafness, like all disabilities, exists on a spectrum. Some people are born Deaf; others become Deaf later in life. Those who have diminished hearing may also consider themselves part of the Deaf community. Though this movie is not a history or topography of Deafness, it does examine the nuances of Deaf culture by showcasing the varied (and even contradictory) stories of how the student leaders came of age. Specifically, the film illustrates the battle between the medical and social models of disability. Under the former, Deafness would be considered an affliction to be 'cured' or 'fixed' with tools and interventions to enable a Deaf person to conform to the expectations of a hearing world. (One of the student activists, for example, recalls being pulled out of class as a kid to go to speech therapy, where he would place his hand on a teacher's nose to understand a hearing person's breath flow as they spoke certain words.) But under the social model, which has grown in prevalence in recent decades, disability is just another aspect of human existence, like someone's hair or eye color. This tension in perspective primacy permeates the film; in 1988, it undergirded the Gallaudet board's initial decision to select yet another hearing person as president. The person they chose, Elisabeth Zinser, did not know sign language. In the end, the protest arguably reached its apex not on the grounds of the school but on national television. One of the student leaders, Greg Hlibok, appeared on ABC's Nightline, opposite Zinser. Along with the Deaf actor Marlee Matlin, he made his case to the host, Ted Koppel, but also to the millions watching at home. Seeing Hlibok on-screen is especially affecting: He is young, inexperienced, and finding his way to his message in real time. He demands respect for himself and his classmates. He gets it. Zinser withdraws, and a Deaf member of the faculty, Irving King Jordan, is appointed. In some ways, it may be hard to believe that Gallaudet went so long—well more than a century—without a Deaf president, a leader who could intrinsically understand the needs and lives of the students. Although other schools for the Deaf exist, Gallaudet is unique: It draws Deaf people from all over the world and is seen as an oasis where disabled people aren't othered. I grew up several miles away from the campus, and I'm a hearing person, but I recall as a kid once having a Deaf counselor at basketball camp, someone who hooped at Gallaudet. He was smooth, fast, and confident on the court; I was young, and I remember wondering, sheepishly, how he could play the game at all if he couldn't hear the whistle. It was a question that didn't need asking; he managed just fine, and was better than other players his age. That admittedly basic concept—that Deaf people don't need hearing people worrying about or patronizing them—is one of the key themes of the film. DiMarco, the documentary's Deaf co-director, told me over Zoom that, in his first conversation with Guggenheim, he made clear that he didn't want this project 'to be framed as a story of pity.' (DiMarco signed his answers and we communicated through an interpreter.) Guggenheim didn't need convincing. He had taken a similar approach for his 2023 film Still, which follows Michael J. Fox's journey with Parkinson's disease. When making that movie, Fox told Guggenheim 'no violins'—meaning no smarm, no Hallmark-channel vibes. Though the '88 protest happened before DiMarco was born, he knew its legacy as a child and went on to graduate from Gallaudet himself. In his adult years, he became somewhat of a familiar face after winning a season of America's Next Top Model and competing on Dancing With the Stars. Growing up, DiMarco told me, none of the Deaf characters he saw on-screen resonated with him. 'I often wondered why they couldn't get it right,' he said. 'I've really learned that the key to success in telling authentic stories is having Deaf people behind the camera.' He told me he has more than 25 extended family members who are Deaf and that no one in his family uses the term hearing impaired, which is often deemed ableist. 'I'd say probably the most prevalent misconception is that Deaf people don't carry any sense of pride,' he said. 'I think a lot of hearing people are very shocked when I say I love being Deaf,' he continued. 'I have culture, language, our community, our history. I think that's a very, very big misconception that I'm working every day to correct.' Beyond helping audiences understand some of the Deaf experience, DiMarco told me he hopes this film will resonate because of the civil disobedience at its center. Though he and Guggenheim started making the film six years ago, it's being released amid a wave of attacks against DEI initiatives. The present environment is not lost on him. 'I think today we've really forgotten how to protest,' he said. He acknowledged that he's not sure if, were the same demonstration to occur today, it would have the same outcome. But that possibility doesn't mean the fight for disabled dignity—the fight for dignity of all kinds—is any less salient.
Washington Post
16-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Washington Post
‘Deaf President Now!' amplifies the birth of a rights movement
The events depicted in 'Deaf President Now!' — a documentary revisiting the 1988 protest by students at Gallaudet University that led to the selection of the school's first deaf president in its 124-year history — may seem, in the scheme of things, like an incremental advancement for representation in the deaf community. But in this stirring telling by co-directors Nyle DiMarco, producer of the Oscar-nominated 2021 documentary short 'Audible,' and Davis Guggenheim, director of the Oscar-winning 2006 documentary feature 'An Inconvenient Truth,' the achievement lands with the force of the first salvo in a revolution.
The Guardian
16-05-2025
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
The Wild Robot to Deaf President Now! The seven best films to watch on TV this week
Chris Sanders's delightful family animation attains Wall-E levels of poignancy in its tale of a shipwrecked robot that learns how to feel. Washed up on a remote island populated only by animals, service unit Roz (voiced by Lupita Nyong'o) finds it has no one to serve. That is until it falls on to a goose's nest, killing all its occupants apart from runt of the litter Brightbill (Kit Connor) – who imprints on Roz as his mother. Assisted by Pedro Pascal's cynical fox Fink, the ever helpful machine reprogrammes itself to rear the gosling well enough so he can migrate with the other geese. The Disney-style anthropomorphising is a bit overdone, but it's a film full of warmth and wit. Friday 23 May, 9.10am, 6.10pm, Sky Cinema Premiere Set during one week in 1988, Davis Guggenheim and Nyle DiMarco's revelatory documentary follows an era-defining protest at Gallaudet University in Washington DC – at the time the only deaf higher education institution in the world. When the students discovered a hearing person had been chosen as their new president over deaf candidates, they locked down the campus until the decision was changed. The activists interviewed impress with their zeal for self-determination in a film cleverly designed so that hearing audiences are immersed in a deaf world. Out now, Apple TV+ Andrea Arnold brings earthy conviction to her 2011 adaptation of Emily Brontë's smouldering classic. This is the first version that makes overt the latent suggestion that Heathcliff is African Caribbean, emphasising the transgressive (for the times) nature of his love for Catherine. It's a heavy, passionate, at times brutal rendering of the wild moorland romance – almost an anti-costume drama. Shannon Beer and Kaya Scodelario are convincing as the young and grownup Cathy, while Solomon Glave and James Howson share the crucial role of the tempestuous Heathcliff. Sunday 18 May, 12.55am, Film4 As ever when that wrecking ball of creative energy, Spike Lee, goes historical, the present-day resonances are clear and central. His biopic of political activist Malcolm X (a charismatic Denzel Washington) starts with footage of the beating of Rodney King and ends with a cameo from Nelson Mandela, but there's plenty in the personal experience of the robber turned Black nationalist leader to excite interest and anger. A story of idealism nurtured then thwarted, whether you agree with Malcolm's views or not it's a fitting tribute to a major figure in US history. Monday 19 May, 11pm, BBC Two Sign up to What's On Get the best TV reviews, news and features in your inbox every Monday after newsletter promotion Interspersed with words taken from her own unpublished memoir and a trove of home movie footage, Alexis Bloom and Svetlana Zill's candid documentary gets as close to the 'bohemian rock chick' Anita Pallenberg as we're probably going to get. She blazed a trail from impoverished Italian aristocracy to feted New York model to lover of three Rolling Stones, retaining her independent spirit through fame, hard drugs and motherhood, mesmerising everyone she met. Tuesday 20 May, 10pm, Sky Arts The Who's bombastic rock opera album gets the bombastic celluloid treatment it deserves courtesy of – who else? – British cinema's wild man Ken Russell. Singer Roger Daltrey plays Tommy, a boy who loses his sight, hearing and speech after witnessing his mother's adultery. But the traumatised kid shows a talent for pinball that inspires a messianic movement. The film has dated badly in places, but for sheer chutzpah and verve there's little that compares to it – from Tina Turner's devilish Acid Queen to Elton John and his sky-high boots as the Pinball Wizard. Wednesday 21 May, 7.55am, Sky Cinema Greats After getting sacked from his supermarket job, young LA punk Otto (Emilio Estevez) finds himself working with Harry Dean Stanton's repo man – a low-rent operator who repossesses cars from those in debt. However, one car on their list, a Chevy Malibu, has something glowing and deadly in the boot … Writer-director Alex Cox pays homage to Kiss Me Deadly's MacGuffin in his TexMex road movie cum sci-fi thriller, but adds a scuzzy edge all his own as the protagonists tour a run-down city rife with drugs and crime. Thursday 22 May, 12.35am, Sky Cinema Greats
Irish Times
15-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Irish Times
‘We're building a deaf empire, making things rather than waiting for Hollywood to greenlight them'
The Deaf President Now protest was a key moment in American civil rights, deaf empowerment and disability advocacy. The student-led action at Gallaudet University, in Washington, DC, in 1988 resulted in the appointment of the first deaf president of the world's only third-level institution designed for deaf students. Decades later, Nyle DiMarco, a deaf activist who has blazed a trail as an actor, author and film-maker – not to mention the first deaf winner of the US version of Dancing with the Stars – set out to make a movie about the thrilling standoff between students and university authorities. He pitched the idea to Jonathan King, producer of the Oscar -winning film Spotlight . 'He didn't know about this movement at all, which is pretty common, considering 90 per cent of Americans still don't know about it,' DiMarco says. 'We approached two writers – one hearing, one deaf – and together they put together a script. READ MORE 'After the first pass we really weren't satisfied. After the second it felt even less like what it should be – because the movement isn't just about a deaf president: it's representative of centuries and centuries of oppression and discrimination. How could we possibly compact that into a modern-day narrative feature?' Enter Davis Guggenheim , the film-maker behind the documentaries Waiting for Superman, He Named Me Malala , Still – about Michael J Fox , the Back to the Future and Family Ties star, and his battle with Parkinson's disease – and the Academy Award-winner An Inconvenient Truth , persuaded DiMarco that Deaf President Now! should also be a documentary. 'I grew up in Washington, DC,' Guggenheim, who became the film's codirector, says. 'The protests happened several miles away. I knew about Gallaudet University. But I didn't know about these protests – or maybe I knew and forgot. 'If you're deaf this story is part of your culture, part of your story. The fact that the hearing world has essentially moved on and neglected these protests is an injustice. I just felt it was important to help Nyle tell the story.' Deaf President Now!: Jane Bassett Spilman (left) and Dr Elisabeth Zinser (centre) The protests were triggered by the decision of the university – whose charter was signed by Abraham Lincoln, as US president, in 1864 – to appoint a hearing president, Dr Elisabeth Zinser, over two deaf candidates, Dr Irving King Jordan and Dr Harvey Corson. Zinser didn't even know American Sign Language – which, with written English, is one of Gallaudet's two official languages. [ Tinseltown loses its lustre: the home of American cinema is hanging on by a thread Opens in new window ] Jane Bassett Spilman, chair of the university's trustees, compounded the rising anger by insisting that 'deaf people are not ready to function in a hearing world'. When a protester set off a fire alarm, Spilman complained to the crowd, 'It's awfully difficult to talk above this noise.' 'It's really mind-blowing,' DiMarco says. 'That attitude very much still exists and is very prevalent, but, yeah, it's unbelievable. Even though Zinser didn't say that the deaf people aren't ready to function in the hearing world, she certainly behaved like she did.' For eight days students barricaded campus entrances, locked gates and took to the streets. Rallies spearheaded by the Gallaudet activists Greg Hlibok, Bridgetta Bourne, Jerry Covell and Tim Rarus received national coverage. The documentary, whose release coincides with a US-wide crackdown on campus protests , offers an exemplary blueprint for civil disobedience. 'My children are in college, and it's hard to generalise about people,' Guggenheim (who is married to the actor Elisabeth Shue ) says. 'But I love that the people in our film are listening to each other. They don't always like each other. But there's compassion, listening and soul-searching among each of these characters. I think that's a great lesson right now, when people are so dug in and convinced of their righteousness.' During the Deaf President Now campaign, protesters demanded the resignations of Zinser and Spilman, the appointment of a deaf president and the reconstitution of the board to include a majority of deaf trustees. Deaf President Now!: director and deaf activist Nyle DiMarco Jordan, a graduate of Gallaudet, and a dean there at the time, was appointed the university's first deaf president after the protests. Rather than being born deaf, he lost his hearing after a motorbike crash; he signs and speaks during the documentary. Some of his fellow contributors question his deaf credentials. 'That was one of our goals,' DiMarco says. 'So often in the hearing world, people look at the deaf community and think that we're all these precious angels who get along. But we have opinions and very different perspectives. 'Throughout the protests you really see that it was successful despite those internal conflicts, that those are such a normal part of protest. I think it speaks to the environment that we're in today. With different viewpoints and perspectives, we can come together, speak truth to power and make change happen.' Guggenheim says he learned important lessons from Fox, his former documentary subject. 'When I was growing up you'd see these movies of the week about someone with a disability. You'd hear violins. 'Amazing that little Johnny can tie his shoes. How precious and noble.' When I worked with Michael J Fox he said, 'No violins!'' The director has form in this respect. In He Named Me Malala he allowed Malala Yousafzai , the female-education activist who won the Nobel Peace Prize at the age of 17, and her family to narrate their story from a Pakistani perspective. He studiously swerved a white-saviour narrative in Waiting for Superman, a critique of marginalised experiences of the American public-education system. Deaf President Now!: directors Davis Guggenheim and Nyle DiMarco The themes of Deaf President Now required particular cultural sensitivities. 'When you watch the movie you say, 'I would never be this terrible person doing terrible things to this other group of people',' he says. 'What I've learned making the movie is that these very well-intentioned people can still impede progress. 'My mantra making this picture was: Don't be Spilman. There were moments when I caught myself and thought, 'Oh shit: I'm just driving forward like another hearing person.' I had to stop and reflect every day.' The film is peppered with examples of 'good intentions' dating back to Alexander Graham Bell. In the late 19th century the inventor of the telephone, whose wife and mother were deaf, championed oralism, the belief that deaf people should learn to speak and lip-read rather than use sign language. 'It was a matter of taking the history of oppression that is ingrained into the deaf experience and finding that balance,' DiMarco says. 'We had to explain some of the history to know how we ended up at this boiling point in 1988. We needed to show the rise of deaf identity and to paint a picture of why deaf people were so angry. They had had enough.' With Deaf President Now! we had over 40 deaf folks behind the camera. If the goal is really to see those stories being told authentically, that starts when we're hiring — Nyle DiMarco In 2022 Coda became the first film with a predominantly deaf cast to win the Oscar for best picture. But, save for a tiny number of movies – notably Her Socialist Smile, the documentary about Helen Keller from 2020 – deaf people remain significantly underrepresented on screen. Eight years ago DiMarco founded Clerc Studio , a production company dedicated to elevating the narratives of deaf and disabled people. 'It really comes down to having representation behind the camera,' he says. 'When we watch films about deaf folks we can tell if it's done by a hearing person. It's really important for Hollywood to do their homework. We don't want to encourage stories being told about us without us.' His documentaries include Audible , about football players at Maryland School for the Deaf, which was nominated for best documentary short at the Academy Awards in 2022, and Deaf U , about contemporary students at Gallaudet. 'With Deaf U, over 50 per cent of our crew came from the deaf community,' he says. 'With Deaf President Now! we had over 40 deaf folks behind the camera. If the goal is really to see those stories being told authentically, that starts when we're hiring. 'I often joke that we're building a deaf empire, making things rather than waiting for Hollywood to greenlight them. And once we have those stories, I think Hollywood is going to be really upset that they missed out.' Deaf President Now! is on Apple TV+ from Friday, May 16th
