Latest news with #GallaudetUniversity
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.
Yahoo
20-05-2025
- Politics
- Yahoo
The Gallaudet Four Demanded a Deaf President. Their Legacy Transformed Disability Rights
"Hearst Magazines and Yahoo may earn commission or revenue on some items through these links." When Jerry C. Lee stepped down as president of Gallaudet University, a Washington D.C. higher learning institution for deaf and hard of hearing students, a number of the university's faculty and students felt his replacement should be deaf. This sentiment even extended beyond the university walls and into the halls of power in the nation's capital, where politicians up to then–U.S. vice president George H.W. Bush expressed agreement with the idea that the time had come for the world's first advanced education institution for the Deaf to finally get its first deaf president. After all, it was 1988; the hard-fought victories of the American civil rights movements of decades past were still fresh in many minds, and a sentiment with its origins in Polish politics—Nihil de nobis, sine nobis—had begun to eke its way into American activist circles as the idea of 'Nothing about us without us.' To people who felt it was past due time that a deaf individual be put in charge of the nation's preeminent deaf university, Lee's abrupt departure after less than four years as president provided the perfect opportunity to rectify the inequity. It should have been an easy fix to a long-standing issue. What ensued instead, as depicted in the new Apple TV+ documentary Deaf President Now!, led to an explosion of activism, a national dialogue on disability rights, and ultimately, the Americans with Disabilities Act of 1990. The genesis of Gallaudet University can be traced as far back as 1856. Amos Kendall, who had served as postmaster general for both Andrew Jackson and Martin Van Buren, felt a desire to ensure the deaf and blind children of Washington D.C. received adequate care. Accordingly, he donated two acres of land to serve as both a home and a school for children with disabilities. The following year, Gallaudet was chartered, initially as a grammar school under the name Columbia Institution for the Instruction of the Deaf and Dumb and the Blind ('dumb' being the term at the time for people who don't communicate verbally). Edward Miner Gallaudet, an academic who, while hearing himself, was the son of a deaf mother, was asked to serve as the first superintendent. Gallaudet's father, Thomas Hopkins Gallaudet, had cofounded the American School for the Deaf in 1817, and it's after Thomas, not Edward, that the school was eventually renamed. Under Edward's stewardship, the school survived the Civil War and even served as a hospital for Union troops during an August recess (with some of the deaf students reportedly helping to care for the wounded). On April 8, 1864, the school officially became an institute of higher learning when Congress authorized it to grant college degrees. The newly-minted college, naturally, had Edward serve as its first president. One hundred and twenty-four years later, a total of six men had served as Gallaudet's president. Not a single one of them was deaf. Up until the 1980s, Gallaudet's presidents had always served at least a decade in their position. But in 1988, in the wake of the rather swift turnover of the last two university presidents, W. Lloyd Johns (October 1983 to January 1984) and Jerry C. Lee (May 1984 to January 1988), a portion of students and faculty felt the time had come for the university to finally appoint a deaf president. Although not yet a cause that galvanized the bulk of the student body as it later would, the issue found some support in the early stages. Given that Gallaudet received federal funding, major figures within the government also spoke up in favor of the appointment of a deaf president. This included then–U.S. Vice President George H.W. Bush (at the time in the midst of a primary campaign that would ultimately seal his 1988 Republican presidential nomination), who penned a letter to Philip Bravin on the Gallaudet Presidential Search Committee that read in part: 'In the last two decades our society has undergone a quiet revolution. The Congress, the Courts and the Administration have strongly supported the right of people with disabilities to hold positions of trust and leadership. Our government has enacted numerous laws to ensure that disabled people are ensured equality of opportunity.'Accordingly, as an entity funded by the Federal government, Gallaudet has a responsibility to set an example and thus to appoint a President who is not only highly qualified, but who is also deaf. I hope that the Trustees will keep Gallaudet's critical leadership position in mind when they make their decision.' By the time Bush's letter arrived, the Search Committee had narrowed down their options to three possible candidates: Harvey J. Corson, the superintendent of the Louisiana School for the Deaf in Baton Rouge and a Gallaudet alum; I. King Jordan, dean of Gallaudet's College of Arts and Sciences; and Elisabeth A. Zinser, vice chancellor at the University of North Carolina. Whereas Corson was born deaf and Jordan was rendered deaf in an automobiles accident at age 21, Zinser was a hearing individual who couldn't speak sign language. On March 1, 1988, according to an article in The Washington Post from the time, a rally of nearly 1,500 formed in anticipation of the selection of a new president. Roughly 20 Gallaudet students and faculty reportedly spoke at the rally. In his remarks, Professor Allen Sussman declared, 'This is a historical event—you could call this the first deaf civil rights activity.' Sussman's assessment was ultimately correct, though not perhaps in the way he had anticipated. On March 6, Gallaudet quietly announced via a flyer that the university had made a historical appointment: the first female president in its history, by selecting the hearing candidate, Elisabeth Zinser, over the two deaf candidates. Outraged, a large group of students marched to the nearby Mayflower Hotel where the board had gathered to make their decision. Board member Jane Spilman eventually emerged to try to quell the crowd but allegedly explained the board's decision by stating 'Deaf people cannot function in a hearing world.' Deaf President Now! featured archival interview footage of Spilman denying that she said those words, but Spilman is unable to recollect exactly what it was she said that was allegedly misquoted. Zinser's selection and the board's dismissiveness tossed a proverbial match on the powder keg of student outrage. 'Deaf President Now' had been the slogan on buttons and flyers handed out at the March 1 rally, but now, it had become the rallying cry of a campaign of protests and civil disobedience aimed at ensuring that the demands of the deaf students of Gallaudet could be heard loud at clear. At the forefront of this movement were four students, known as the Gallaudet Four: Tim Rarus, Greg Hlibok, Jerry Covell and Bridgetta Bourne-Firl. In his capacity of student body government president, Rarus had been involved in the search that led to Zinser's appointment. But his time in office was coming to an end, and Hlibok was elected to replacement him just one day before the protests broke out. Their student government background and Rarus' experience with the search committee made both men natural leaders of the protests. Covell and Bourne-Firl had run against Hlibok for student body government leadership. Although they lost, the campaign had elevated their names among their students. Covell was additionally established as an outspoken activist who knew how to rally a crowd. He became the 'spiritual leader' for the student movement. Bourne-Firl similarly help direct students during group actions. She shares in the documentary that she utilized her past experience as a deaf cheerleader guided by rhythm to organize an amorphous mob of students into a disciplined collective of chants and movement. On the ground, students barricaded the campus with bike locks and buses whose tires had been deliberately deflated. They marched on the U.S. Capitol Building. They outlined a list of demands, which included four key points: The selection of a deaf president for Gallaudet to replace Elisabeth Zinser The immediate resignation of board member Jane Spilman Reconfiguring the Board of Trustees to comprise a 51 percent majority of deaf board members, as the current board had 17 hearing members to 4 deaf members No reprisals against the student protestors A watershed moment for the protests occurred when Hlibok appeared opposite Zinser and recent Oscar-winning deaf actor Marlee Matlin on the ABC news program Nightline. 'I felt so nervous and anxious until the broadcast began,' Hlibok later shared. 'Once it did, I felt at ease and comfortable because I allowed the truth to take over the entire time. With the truth of our compassion, nothing comes easier than expressing it.' As the young Hlibok gained his confidence over the course of the televised debate, his principled ferocity reached an audience of millions, igniting a public sentiment in favor of not just the Deaf President Now movement, but also a broader disability rights movement across the country. On March 10, Zinser resigned as Gallaudet president. Three days later, Spilman resigned from the board, with Philip Bravin taking on her former leadership role. It was Bravin who then announced that I. King Jordan had been appointed the new Gallaudet University president and that the students involved in the Deaf President Now protests wouldn't be reprimanded. The fight for a deaf president of Gallaudet had concluded, but the broader movement it inspired carried on. The impact of the Deaf President Now protests was swiftly felt across the country, inspiring a wave of new reforms and legislation aimed at correcting centuries of disabled Americans being denied agency. Within two years of the student-led movement, U.S. President George H.W. Bush signed into law the Americans with Disabilities Act, which prohibits discrimination based on disability and required workplaces to provide reasonable accommodations for disabled employees. Looking back, Rarus sees the progress that has been made since the Deaf President Now protests (DPN) and the opportunities still ahead. 'Since DPN, Deaf America has seen changes—the Americans with Disabilities Act, the Closed Captioning bill, the Telecommunications Act of 1996, and most importantly, the attitude of 'Yes, I can' being adopted by deaf children and adults everywhere,' he shared. 'The fight is not over, we will always need to strive for equality in our world. Yet, we have started that journey. And today as we continue to carry our torch, Deaf President Now symbolizes Deaf People Now.' Deaf President Now! is now streaming on Apple TV+. You Might Also Like Nicole Richie's Surprising Adoption Story The Story of Gypsy Rose Blanchard and Her Mother Queen Camilla's Life in Photos
Los Angeles Times
16-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Los Angeles Times
‘Saturday Night Live' concludes its 50th season, plus this weekend's streaming picks
Welcome to Screen Gab, the newsletter for everyone who is feeling better about their perpetual identity crisis after watching streamer Max flip-flop its name back to HBO Max. This week delivered some fun roasting after Warner Bros. Discovery announced the company's streaming platform Max was undergoing yet another rebranding and reverting to one of its previous names to restore the HBO television branding to its name. The internet — including the company itself — quickly mocked the backpedaling with memes expressing relief of order being restored. What's old is new again, right? There's another classic media entity making headlines this week: 'Saturday Night Live' will close out its 50th season. TV editor Maira Garcia reflects on the milestone season of the iconic sketch comedy show in this week's Break Down. Also in Screen Gab No. 181, our experts recommend a celebrity podcast worth watching on YouTube — hold the eye-roll, this one will make you feel like your hanging with friends — and a documentary that looks back on the campaign to appoint the first deaf president at Gallaudet University, which is specifically geared to deaf and hard-of-hearing students. And for viewers who like to plan ahead, our guides on the 15 TV shows and 18 films to watch this summer are linked and ready to be added to your bookmarks. Plus, Melissa Fumero stops by Guest Spot to discuss the Season 1 finale of 'Grosse Pointe Garden Society' and her hopes for a second season. Must-read stories you might have missed 15 TV shows we're looking forward to watching this summer: There's a lot of great television coming this summer, including the return of favorites like 'The Bear' and 'Wednesday,' and new series like 'Ironheart,' 'Too Much' and 'Alien: Earth.' The 18 summer movies we're most excited about: The season looks strong, loaded with the kind of big Hollywood swings, smart indie alternatives and a fair amount of delicious-looking dumb, necessary in every summer diet. The blessings of Ann Dowd as Aunt Lydia in 'The Handmaid's Tale': Powerfully portrayed by Ann Dowd, the initial villain of 'The Handmaid's Tale' has become a symbol of transformation and the bridge between two series. 'Andor's' Elizabeth Dulau on Kleya's 'heartbreaking' moment with Luthen: 'Andor' actor Elizabeth Dulau on Kleya's Season 2 arc, her sacrifice in Episode 10 and becoming part of 'Star Wars' lore. Recommendations from the film and TV experts at The Times 'Deaf President Now!' (Apple TV+) This newly released documentary that premiered at the Sundance Film Festival earlier this year follows a history-making protest led by students at Gallaudet University in 1988, when the school's board of trustees voted to install a hearing president over two deaf candidates. The university, located in the nation's capital, has the distinction of being the first school of higher learning designed for deaf students. And after decades of hearing leadership, the students had had enough. The documentary features footage of the protests and interviews with the student leaders, who passionately explain why it was important to have a president that understood what it was like to exist in a world that regularly discriminated against them. Their protest would go on to help pave the way for the Americans with Disabilities Act, a pivotal civil rights law. — Maira Garcia 'Good Hang With Amy Poehler' (YouTube and various audio platforms) In this land of a thousand podcasts, where every other celebrity is a host, you choose your shows like you choose your friends. The wonderful Amy Poehler debuted hers this March ('I like to be five or six years late to any trend,' as she puts it). And its title, 'Good Hang With Amy Poehler,' is nothing but accurate; it has the air not of an interview show but of a conversation between pals you've been privileged to join — silently, of course, because what could you add to Poehler's talks with Paul Rudd, Martin Short, Jack Black, Kathryn Hahn, Michelle Obama, Ike Barinholtz or Rashida Jones? At the beginning of each episode, the host quizzes the guest's friends on what questions she should ask, so, if you tune into her episode with Tina Fey — unmissable, obviously — you get a bonus of Seth Meyers, Zarna Garg, Rachel Dratch and Fred Armisen making each other laugh. 'I'm not here to change your life,' said Poehler, kicking off her series. 'I don't care if you get any better. I don't have any advice for you. I just want us to have fun.' Includes many '90s cultural references. Watch the video version of the podcast for the visual sunshine, but it's great either way. — Robert Lloyd A weekly chat with actors, writers, directors and more about what they're working on — and what they're watching In 'Grosse Pointe Garden Society,' the soapy drama that follows four members of a gardening club in a wealthy Detroit suburb who are scrambling to cover up a shocking murder, Melissa Fumero is able to mine humor in the dark corners of the stressful situation her character is navigating. The 'Brooklyn Nine-Nine' alum plays Birdie, a loud and brash socialite and romance novelist who is carrying her own secrets in the middle of this murder mystery. The dark comedy reaches its Season 1 conclusion Friday on NBC and it's poised to bring a new set of twists and cliffhangers as the group tries to evade law enforcement and a private eye plotting blackmail. But the series faces its own uncertain future. It's the last of NBC's scripted programs without a renewal or cancellation; there are reports that a potential second season could land on Peacock. Fumero stopped by Guest Spot to discuss her hopes for a second season and the classic rom-com she hopes never gets Hollywood remake treatment. — Yvonne Villarreal Ahead of the Season 1 finale, what can you tease about where things end with Birdie that makes you eager to continue her story? The stakes are really high for Birdie when Season 1 ends. She has everything she's ever wanted, but the really dark cloud of her choices and circumstances hangs over her. I think she's probably terrified of losing it all, which maybe makes her make more bad choices? I hope we get renewed because I really want to know what happens next! What have you found intriguing about exploring a character like Birdie, who has such a layered backstory, against the backdrop of friends unexpectedly committing a crime? What intrigued me the most about Birdie was definitely the 'what you see is not what you get' aspect of her character. On the surface, she's powerful, self-assured, glamorous, wild and free-spirited; and while most of that is true, she is also really lost, vulnerable, and maybe having a bit of an identity crisis. Then she's plopped into this garden club with three people who become friends — maybe the first real friends she's ever had — and they all get roped into this crazy, mostly accidental murder. That's A LOT of fun stuff to explore and play, and a dream for any actor, honestly. What have you watched recently that you're recommending to everyone you know? I am VERY into 'The Last of Us' [HBO Max] right now. This season is insane, and I look forward to it every week. It's such an exciting and heart-wrenching show. Isabela Merced (who I am a fan of and love seeing a Latina play a leading role on such an epic show) and Bella Ramsey are doing such extraordinary work. It's also very dark, but I find myself drawn to darker things these days — there's something cathartic about it. I think that's why even 'Grosse Pointe Garden Society' is such a fun don't go too dark. But there are days where the world really feels like it's on fire and I find myself wanting to watch people survive things, big or small. It's weirdly comforting. What's your go-to comfort watch, the film or TV show you return to again and again? 'When Harry Met Sally' [VOD]. It's a perfect movie. A perfect rom-com. If it's on a streamer or playing live, I will watch. It's on a lot of airlines, and I'd say my last five viewings were on flights. I should just buy it, but I'm afraid I'll put it on every night and never watch anything else ever again. It's so good. I hope they never, ever try to remake it. Don't touch it. It's too perfect. Times staffers chew on the pop culture of the moment — love it, hate it or somewhere in between 'Saturday Night Live's' historic Season 50 is coming to a close this weekend, with Scarlett Johansson as host, and it's been nothing short of memorable. There were many cameos, whether political figures (Kamala Harris, Tim Kaine) or celebrities in the zeitgeist (Julia Fox, Sam Rockwell), multihyphenate hosts (Lady Gaga, Ariana Grande) and regular appearances from former cast members, including Maya Rudolph, Mike Myers, Andy Samberg and Dana Carvey. But what also made this season special was the programming that happened outside of it: 'SNL50: The Homecoming Concert,' which featured a phenomenal lineup of musicians and comedy skits; a live prime-time special; and a pair of docuseries that shed light on the show's history, 'Beyond Saturday Night' and 'Ladies & Gentlemen… 50 Years of SNL Music.' The series' effect on television and comedy over the decades cannot be overstated, having churned out dozens of film and TV stars, now mainstays and creators in their own right (Tina Fey, Adam Sandler, Chris Rock and Eddie Murphy, to name a few); memorable sketches that have become a part of pop culture lingo and a visual language through costumes that have elevated jokes into comedic art. As television critic Robert Lloyd wrote in an essay reflecting on the show's 50th, the show survives through constant churn, whether through hosts, cast members or the comedy it produces. And even as culture and technology evolves, it remains a stalwart of television: 'Counted out more than once, it has risen from the mat to fight again, new wins erasing old losses — a once and future champ.' — Maira Garcia
Yahoo
16-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
'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. It feels like no exaggeration to compare the Deaf President Now protest, or DPN, as it became known, to Stonewall, the 1969 riots protesting a police raid on a Greenwich Village gay bar that marked the beginning of a new civil and human rights movement. DiMarco and Guggenheim use archival footage to re-create a ticktock of the week-long protest, which was sparked by the March 6, 1988, announcement that the school's board of trustees had chosen a new president: Elisabeth Zinser, vice chancellor of the University of North Carolina at Greensboro. Of the three finalists, who also included I. King Jordan, then dean of Gallaudet's College of Arts and Sciences, and Harvey Corson, superintendent of the Louisiana School for the Deaf, Zinser was the only hearing candidate. Students, who had sought one of their own at the top, exploded in anger. 'Deaf people are not ready to function in a hearing world,' Jane Bassett Spilman, chair of the board of trustees, was reported to have said on the night of Zinser's appointment. In an old interview, Spilman, who is hearing, argues that her comment — which she says she can't recall and of which there is no recording — was mistranslated into sign language by her interpreter in the chaos of the moment. In addition to conventional archival footage, the filmmakers use two innovative techniques to immerse viewers not just in the history but in the emotions of the moment. During interviews with the DPN Four, as the quartet of student protest leaders became known, the remarks of Bridgetta Bourne-Firl, Jerry Covell, Greg Hlibok and Tim Rarus are not translated into subtitles but rendered by four actors — Abigail Marlowe, Leland Orser, Paul Adelstein and Tim Blake Nelson — in voice-over. DiMarco and Guggenheim also deploy an experimental narrative technique they call Deaf Point of View, which uses expressionist photography and sound design — moments of silence or muffled audio, a flashing lightbulb to indicate an alarm or incoming phone call — that invites viewers into the world and perspective of the protest's participants. As with Guggenheim's 'Still: A Michael J. Fox Movie,' which blended standard interview footage, clips from Fox's filmography and staged re-creations using a body double of the actor, it's a radical kind of oral history, one delivered not solely by traditional documentary's talking heads but by the more expressive hands, bodies and faces. 'I usually sign right about here,' says a smiling Covell, tracing the edges of an expansive, invisible box with his hands that almost fills the camera frame to explain his somewhat dramatic way of signing. 'But I move a lot when I get emotional,' he adds by way of preemptive apology. At one point, Covell inadvertently knocks into the filmmakers' boom microphone during a particularly animated answer. It's part of what's great about this film. There are contrasting moments of near-tears and speechlessness as well — the kind brought on by powerful feeling, not an inability to articulate. The message of 'Deaf President Now!' comes across loud and clear: We will be heard. Rather, it is Gallaudet's paternalistic administration that seems slow to listen to the students' legitimate demands, among which, in addition to the hiring of a deaf president, were Spilman's resignation and the reformation of the board to incorporate more deaf trustees. There are echoes here of many other protests, including those that have recently roiled college campuses in the wake of Israel's response to the attacks by Hamas of Oct. 7, 2023. After the DPN protests began and the students locked down the Gallaudet campus, bringing classes to a standstill, Rarus, the fourth generation of a deaf family, recalls his grandfather phoning him on a TTY device — remember, this is before texting — to say, 'Please respect your elders.' Rarus's grandfather later retracted that advice, ultimately telling his grandson he was right to stand up in the face of unfairness. But it's a manifestation of what change makers all too often run into: ears that are metaphorically deaf to the obvious. TV-MA. Available on Apple TV+. Contains brief vulgarity. In English and American Sign Language, with simultaneous interpretation. 99 minutes.
