popular culture

Remembering Dolly in her coat of many colors

Rachel Sauer — Fri, 28 Aug 2026 15:07:14 +0000

Remembering Dolly in her coat of many colors Rachel Sauer Fri, 08/28/2026 - 09:07

Rachel Sauer

For �鶹��Ѱ��Boulder scholar Shawn Trenell O’Neal, the outpouring of grief over Dolly Parton’s death in Black communities bespeaks the legend’s humanity and allyship

Shawn Trenell O’Neal was taking an afternoon walk Tuesday when Joanne Corson, program manager for the �鶹��Ѱ�� Center for African and African American Studies (CAAAS) and his dear friend, texted him, asking him to call her right away.

He did, and the first thing she said was, “We just lost Dolly.”

There was no question of which Dolly. Is there any other? “So, we spent the next half an hour talking about Dolly, and right after that I called my mother,” he recalls.

Shawn O'Neal is a �鶹��Ѱ��Boulder assistant teaching professor of ethnic studies and the Center for African and African American Studies associate faculty director.

“My mother and the Black women in my family who raised me were big fans of Dolly Parton, and not necessarily her music, which makes it even more compelling. They were fans of who she was.”

Since she died Tuesday at age 80, people worldwide have united in grief and celebration of a singular songwriter, musician, philanthropist, actress and all-around icon and legend, frequently citing a 2019 New York Times headline: “Is There Anything We Can All Agree On? Yes: Dolly Parton.”

It should be no surprise, says O’Neal, an assistant teaching professor of ethnic studies, musicologist and CAAAS associate faculty director, that Black communities are mourning Parton just as deeply as fan bases, including country music fan bases, that traditionally have veered white.

O’Neal points to a 2020 interview Parton had with Billboard magazine, not long after George Floyd’s death and as the Black Lives Matter movement was gaining momentum. “I understand people having to make themselves known and felt and seen,” Parton told the magazine. “And of course Black lives matter! Do we think our little white asses are the only ones that matter? No!”

“At that point we are screaming their names into the air, we don't know what else to do anymore, we are desperate,” O’Neal says. “And to have someone like that step up in that moment, someone who didn’t politicize things, who kept out of politics, but she came out at that moment and said something when we needed it the most?

“She didn't have to do anything and we still would have loved her, but no, she stepped up at that moment and did that, and it just reminded me again, oh, this is why the women in my family made me understand that I have to love this woman.”

Question: Since they weren’t really listening to Dolly’s music, what was it about her that the women in your family loved?

O’Neal: I think it started with her contradictions. She’s got the hair and the nails, the five-inch heels, sequins and rhinestones, you know? But then she comes in with this incredible mind, this talent. And Black people have to live with contradictions all the time, so I think a lot of Black American women were seeing her, like, ‘Oh, you tricky. I see how you playing these dudes, with the heels and the dress and the hair and everything else, and you just playing these dudes like a French horn.’ For the women in my family, Dolly Parton was someone who put a smile on their face.

Question: Do you remember when you first became aware of Dolly?

O’Neal: Around the time 9 to 5 came out, which was in 1980. We didn’t go see it in the theater, but we had cable television and (the women in my family) were so excited to watch this movie. So, I sat there and watched this movie with them, and they just loved it.

I realize now there’s layers to this. The first thing I realize is that we have to put it in a historical context. The movie 9 to 5 is all about women in the workforce and taking a stand to discrimination and taking a stand to misogyny, and all the women in my family worked. My grandmother and my great aunt, they were nurses and nurses’ aides at the VA hospital at Great Lakes Naval Base, my mother was a lab technician and my great-grandmother cleaned houses for rich people in Lake Forest, Illinois, and Highland Park, Illinois.

And this was during the Reagan years, where Ronald Reagan was destroying Black families, just eating us up alive, and at the same time Black women were really trying to insert themselves into the workplace. For the women in my family, at least, I think that movie empowered them, seeing Dolly have to put up with some of things they were having to put up with. And the song ‘9 to 5’! I mean, that song is submerged in gospel. That line where she’s like, ‘It’s enough to drive you crazy if you let it,’ is that not right out of church?

"This lady actually loves people and she’s actually sticking her neck out for women, for people regardless of their race and ethnicity," says �鶹��Ѱ��Boulder scholar Shawn Trenell O'Neal.

Question: So, you came to Dolly’s music on your own?

O’Neal: Yes, we watched the movie and I was like, ‘OK, who is this Dolly Parton?’ I gotta now figure out who this Dolly Parton was, so I started listening to some of her music. I remember hearing ‘Jolene’ and, oh, wow. And it was interesting, too, because a lot of Black R&B songs at that time, in the late ‘70s and early ‘80s, were about that subject matter—like, ‘I'll be damned if you come in here and mess with my family or my man, you got another think coming.’

Question: Speaking of ‘Jolene,’ you mentioned you played it during your African American History class Wednesday. Why was that?

O’Neal: For starters, because I'm the kind of person that likes to keep (my students) guessing. So, I put it on, I'm blasting it as I'm getting my notes and stuff out and together, and I know they're kind of looking around at each other like, ‘What's going on here?’ What I wanted to do is use it as an icebreaker, because I wanted to talk about the fact that I was raised by these amazing Black women who taught me to honor and love people based on their actions and not the color of their skin or whatever ethnicity that they were a part of.

We were going into a very, very difficult chapter about the triangular trade of the enslavement of African people, so I wanted that icebreaker of what Dolly represented.

Question: You mentioned that your great-grandmother would have called Dolly ‘a good Christian.’ Why is that?

O’Neal: She lived it. My great-grandmother would have said Dolly was a real Christian; like, this lady actually loves people and she’s actually sticking her neck out for women, for people regardless of their race and ethnicity. She was there for people, for humanity, so the women in my family saw her as a true humanitarian.

So, you know, Dolly let Whitney Houston sing (‘I Will Always Love You’) and she made over $10 million in royalties from Whitney’s version, but you know what? She never even collected that money. You know what she did with that money? She put it back into a historically Black neighborhood in Nashville. She was like, ‘This Black woman, Whitney Houston, took my song and sang it into the stratosphere, and that’s who deserves this money, is these communities.’ I mean, who does that? Only Dolly! She built an amusement park so people in the community where she grew up could have jobs. She sent something like 300 million books to kids.

Question: What are you remembering most about Dolly this week?

O’Neal: I think about, you know, I was a young Black man growing up in the Chicago area, and I adored her. I adored her ability to be brash, her ability to be a shrewd businesswoman. Here she was building an empire, but at the same time, going back to that idea of contradictions, being in some ways understated about it.

I think as Black folks we could see ourselves in her. We had to look sharp because we didn't have a lot else to go on. We had to roll in the Cadillac or the Lincoln because we didn't have a lot else to make us feel proud, but that didn’t really get to what was happening beneath the surface. And I know that for Black women, that level of beauty that she exuded, getting the hair done, getting the nails, all of it, they respected that. But they saw she was so much more. There were all these other things going on that were unsaid, but people knew about her, and the women in my family knew. And they were just, like … you weren't about to mush-mouth no Dolly Parton up in my house. You just weren't.

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For �鶹��Ѱ��Boulder scholar Shawn Trenell O’Neal, the outpouring of grief over Dolly Parton’s death in Black communities bespeaks the legend’s humanity and allyship.

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Top image: Dolly Parton onstage at Wolf Trap in Vienna, Virginia. (Photo: Leeann Cafferata/Wikimedia Commons)

But is the book better than the movie?

Rachel Sauer — Thu, 20 Aug 2026 00:16:44 +0000

But is the book better than the movie? Rachel Sauer Wed, 08/19/2026 - 18:16

A scene of Odysseus and his men from Christopher Nolan's blockbuster film The Odyssey. (Photo: Melinda Sue Gordon/Universal Pictures)

Mitchell Pentzer

As it surpasses $1 billion in box office revenue just weeks after its release, Christopher Nolan’s film The Odyssey continues to stir longstanding debates—and enhance the study of myth and movies at �鶹��Ѱ��Boulder

“It is a truism that historical ﬁlms are always about the time in which they are made and never about the time in which they are set.” So opens Jeffrey Richards’ 2008 book Hollywood’s Ancient Worlds, published after the turn-of-the-century flurry of Gladiator, Troy, Alexander and 300. How much truer is it of movies based not on any real historical moments, but rather on myths and literature of antiquity?

Much of the controversy about The Odyssey, Christopher Nolan’s $1 billion-and-counting epic, has centered around questions of authenticity, faithfulness to the source or, more directly, how Nolan has imagined it: the racially diverse casting, the level of remorse (and chastity) shown by a Homeric hero, the absence of Achilles or women in the Land of the Dead, even how well any of the actors can draw a bow.

Mitchell Pentzer is a lecturer and Latin program coordinator in the �鶹��Ѱ��Boulder Department of Classics.

When viewing a film explicitly based on such a famous work, certain expectations are understandable, and sorting through those expectations is something students at �鶹��Ѱ��Boulder could do in a Department of Classics course, CLAS 3400, titled “Swords and Sandals on the Silver Screen”—more colloquially known as “Classics and Film.” In this course, students unpack expectations, get past questions of authenticity and dig into what films inspired by ancient history and literature are trying to do with the source material. We can see how writers and directors use antiquity’s art and history as vehicles to explore ideas important to us today; that is, if a movie is not (just) about some historical event or ancient text, what is it about?

We learn far less—about our own moment and culture, and about antiquity as well—from picking on what a director and their team get wrong, and far more from investigating the positive decisions made to accomplish their vision. And the vision of Nolan’s Odyssey is less one of ancient heroes and monsters than it is one of a fragile, modern, even global civilization.

As Nolan’s latest blockbuster gets variously knocked around or defended on social media and in longer-form reviews and opinion pieces (Emily Wilson in the London Review of Books, Wilson again in The Atlantic, Theo Nash in Slate, and Daniel Mendelsohn in the New York Review of Books are some landmarks), its predecessor in treating Homeric epic, 2004’s Troy, has appeared as an obvious point of comparison. We open “Classics and Film” with this movie, directed by Wolfgang Petersen of Das Boot and written by David Benioff of HBO’s Game of Thrones.

Is your Ancient Greek curiosity piqued?

If students want to take their experience of The Odyssey further, our Department of Classics has much to offer, including Classical Greek itself, with a cycle starting every fall, or an intensive two-semester program in the summer. Students usually take on portions of Homer in the original language in the fourth semester.

We have Latin too, with the first course in the sequence offered in both fall and spring, and courses on ancient literature in translation at all levels, including upper-division courses dedicated to Epic and Tragedy, the bulk of our sources on mythology. Our ancient history and art and archaeology classes are perennial favorites for students at all levels.

Classics and Film runs this fall but has been so full so often that we plan to make it a regular offering as a larger-enrollment course—stay tuned! And this fall on Oct. 15, we’ll hold an Odyssey Day, with a read-through of Homer’s text that people can participate in. Keep an eye on our departmental website, colorado.edu/classics, for more information.

Mitchell Pentzer

And although Troy has the enduring star power of Brad Pitt, Eric Bana and Orlando Bloom (Legolas in the Lord of the Rings films), it wasn’t so well-received upon its release. Nevertheless, some of today’s critics of The Odyssey have cited Troy as the exemplary treatment of Homeric epic in film. It isn’t, for many reasons, but among them is the conspicuous figuring of the steely-gray-armored Greeks as secular, cynical, greedy invaders of an Eastern Trojan nation characterized by earth tones and a religiosity deemed outdated even by its defenders. Was this film really meant to present an unadulterated, authentic Iliad, or was it really a product of a world at that moment watching the United States wage war in Iraq and Afghanistan?

A more faithful presentation of ancient text is Michael Cacoyannis’ 1977 film Iphigenia, sometimes delivering lines from Euripides’ tragedy Iphigenia at Aulis as verbatim as can be. Yet Cacoyannis, through choice cinematography and editing, still offers a warning about the dangers of mobs and armies that reflects the experience of Greeks who lived under the 1967-1974 military junta and witnessed the violence at Athens Polytechnic in 1973.

The Coen brothers, on the other hand, sidestep the matter of Homeric faithfulness by following the Odysseus of 2000’s O Brother, Where Art Thou?, George Clooney’s Ulysses Everett McGill, through 1930s Mississippi instead of the Bronze Age Mediterranean. Still, the film explores ideas central to Homer’s own Odyssey: What makes civil society, justice and a person’s identity?

Nolan’s Odyssey, in contrast to that other treatment of Homer’s Odyssey, looks and feels nominally ancient, if not Bronze Age, through set design, costuming (for the most part), and even some of the musical scoring. The decision to embrace American accents (the British Tom Holland’s Telemachus shows us it’s not careless but deliberate) instead of some vaguely British one—more common for the sword-and-sandal epic—is the first indication that this retelling isn’t just about a mythical and ancient world, or even one in a minor way distanced from our own.

People have picked on Telemachus calling his father “Dad” for being anachronistic—as though ancient Greeks must honor father and mother without diminutives—but Nausicaa, the Phaeacian princess who discovers the shipwrecked Odysseus, calls her father πάππα (“Pappa” or “Daddy”) in Book 6 of Homer’s text. They’re not altogether different from us.

Then there are certain objects that seem deliberately anachronistic and embody a theme of modernity. The Trojan Horse is for Nolan an instrument of destruction that breaks Zeus’ law, a version of xenia, an imperative of hospitality for ancient Greeks, that was broadened by the film for a post-Christian world. It is so conspicuously crafted, nigh-unbelievably smoothed and curved (in far better shape than the decaying palace on Ithaca, despite being constructed on a beach by an army 10 years into its campaign), as to seem Classical or even modern—in contrast to Troy’s almost laughably ramshackle horse.

This fantasy, this work of amazing craftsmanship that leads to the end of a civilization, bears obvious similarities to the atomic bomb in Nolan’s Oppenheimer, as viewers have already observed. Likewise, Agamemnon’s armor is black, spotless, plastic-seeming, like Darth Vader or a brand-new action figure; this Agamemnon, greed-driven as always, is an impersonal, artificial product of industry, and the more ominous for that.

A scene of Odysseus and his men from Christopher Nolan's blockbuster film The Odyssey. (Photo: Melinda Sue Gordon/Universal Pictures)

The film doesn’t limit its conscious modernity to visual elements. Composer Ludwig Göransson’s score stands out as perhaps the most original in the genre, with reconstructed ancient instruments holding pride of place much of the time. Odysseus’ theme on pipes and flutes, when he converses with Penelope before the trial of the bow and axes and recounts his transgressions, is suitably haunting. The ancient aulos, an ancestor of the oboe, backs the Sirens, a panoply of bronze gongs adds texture throughout the film, and the repeated bow-pluck has a lyre behind it in homage to an authentically Homeric simile:

Just as a man who has mastered the lyre and the art of song
Will easily stretch a string all the way round a new peg,
Attaching the twisted sheep-gut firmly at either end —
So, with no effort at all, did Odysseus string the great bow.
With his right hand he held the bow while he made a test of the string,
Which sang out beautifully, like the sound a swallow makes
(Odyssey 21.406-411, trans. Mendelsohn, 2026)

But Göransson also makes frequent use of synthesizers, especially for bass notes or for jarring, percussive screeches in the Land of the Dead. When Menelaus tells the story of Troy’s infiltration to Telemachus, the drums beat out dactyls, the meter of epic, that blend into galloping four-counts.

All of this tells us Nolan’s priority is not authenticity. He is, in fact, calling attention to the artificiality of it all and challenging us to see how the story can map out onto our own world, now one much bigger than Homer’s. With this in mind, other decisions make more sense: for example, the diverse casting.

Apart from the fact that people have been able to travel for a very long time, Nolan is telling a story about the breakdown of social contracts spanning different continents and how the consequences rebound upon the violators. It is appropriate, then, to see how we’re all in this together: though we may look different, be variously heroic or rash or dosed with lotus blossom at times, we are nevertheless small and dependent on each other’s kindness in an unpredictable and dangerous world.

Will Nolan’s Odyssey find a place in the required viewings of “Classics and Film”? Ousting O Brother, Where Art Thou? is not an act I take lightly. It’s also in competition with a spate of other films released in just the last few years: the 2023 John Malkovich vehicle, Seneca; Francis Ford Coppola’s 2024 Megalopolis; that same year’s The Return with Ralph Fiennes; and Gladiator II.

We keep returning to antiquity to make meaning for ourselves and tell vital stories, and I don’t expect us to stop. This is a good problem for us classicists to have.

Did you enjoy this viewpoint? Subscribe to our newsletter. Passionate about classics? Show your support.

As it surpasses $1 billion in box office revenue just weeks after its release, Christopher Nolan’s film The Odyssey continues to stir longstanding debates—and enhance the study of myth and movies at �鶹��Ѱ��Boulder.

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Top photo: A scene of the Trojan Horse in Christopher Nolan's The Odyssey (Photo: Melinda Sue Gordon/Universal Pictures)

What began in ancient Greece is headed for the White House lawn

Rachel Sauer — Thu, 11 Jun 2026 19:10:10 +0000

What began in ancient Greece is headed for the White House lawn Rachel Sauer Thu, 06/11/2026 - 13:10

Jared Bahir Browsh

UFC Freedom 250, the MMA event planned for the White House lawn June 14, represents a decades-long relationship between President Donald Trump and UFC

The White House has been a construction site since late October, when the East Wing was suddenly demolished to build a controversial ballroom. In the shadows of cranes, another temporary structure is being built on the South Lawn of the White House: a 5,000-seat outdoor stadium that will host UFC Freedom 250, a special mixed martial arts (MMA) event that will occur on June 14, President Trump’s 80th birthday, as part of the lead-up to the 250th birthday of the United States.

The unique competition has faced criticism—seen as desecrating the lawn of the President’s residence and what many people see as the people’s house. A deeper examination of the history of MMA and the Ultimate Fighting Championship (UFC) reveals why this event is not merely a sporting event, but representative of an ideological connection between the brutal combat sport and the current state of MAGA conservatism.

Jared Bahir Browsh is the Critical Sports Studies program director in the �鶹��Ѱ��Boulder Department of Ethnic Studies.

What is now considered MMA dates back to the ancient Olympics and an event called pankration, a combat sport that combined boxing and wrestling. Although it did not feature the mix of martial art disciplines we see today, it did function very similarly to modern MMA. Like many ancient Olympic sports, pankration was tied to military service, allowing soldiers who were the most prepared for battle. Although formal competitions banned eye-gouging and biting, training often included these since a similar fight on the battlefield would have no rules. The fight would continue until one competitor gave up, lost consciousness or died. Ancient China also had a similar sport, Lei Tai, which was formally competed on a stage, with challengers fighting until one competitor was declared champion.

Fighting competitions continued in the succeeding centuries throughout the world, including in colonial America, where the sport rough and tumble was often used to settle disputes in the rural backcountry, especially in the South. Also known as gouging, the brutal and disfiguring sport fell out of favor with the growing popularity of the Bowie knife and revolver in the 19th century, which led to more lethal methods of solving disputes on the frontier.

Other forms of fighting and martial arts continued to emerge in the 19th century, including the French sport of savate, similar to kickboxing, and Lancashire, or catch wrestling, a less-restrictive version of the sport that emerged from Britain and was included in several Olympic Games between 1904 and 1936.

The globalization of sport in the 20th century through cultural exchange events like the Olympics led to further competitions in forms of combat including jiu-jitsu from Brazil and judo from Japan. Judo was introduced as an Olympic sport at the 1964 Olympics in Tokyo, the first martial art from Asia in the Games.

In Brazil, Vale Tudo, a no-holds-barred martial art, grew in popularity throughout the 20th century after early matches pitted local forms of martial arts against fighting styles from other continents. The Gracie Challenge, which was an open invitation from the Gracie family—a Brazilian family considered the first family of jiu-jitsu—to prove their version of jiu-jitsu was superior, helped expand the popularity of Vale Tudo. This martial art, along with Japanese shoot wrestling, a hybrid sport that mixed wrestling and combat sports like kickboxing and emerged in the 1970s, provided the framework for what would become modern MMA.

Interest in martial arts grew through popular culture, including the movies of Bruce Lee, in the 1970s. Though boxing was still the dominant combat sport, curiosity grew regarding the effectiveness of each form of combat. Muhammad Ali issued a million-dollar open challenge to the president of Japanese Amateur Wrestling for a fighter to take him on. Antonio Inoki accepted the challenge and on June 26, 1976, Ali and Inoki fought in Tokyo; although it ended in a draw, many see the match as a precursor to the popularity of MMA.

Renzo Gracie (white trunks) kicks Eugenio Tadeu (black trunks) during the "Pentagon Combat" Vale Tudo event in 1997. (Photo: Marcelo Alonso/Wikimedia Commons)

UFC 1

The seeds of the MMA were further planted when businessman Art Davie, filmmaker John Milius and Rorion Gracie of the Gracie Challenge collaborated to organize an eight-competitor tournament originally named War of the Worlds. Later renamed the Ultimate Fighting Championship, what is now known as UFC 1 took place in Denver on November 12, 1993. Gracie won the first tournament, and the organizers soon planned a second Denver event—what is now known as UFC 2—four months after the first. In 1994, two more UFC events followed in North Carolina and Oklahoma, as the no-holds-barred style of fighting grew in popularity.

UFC 5 in 1995 featured the first singles match. Billed as a Superfight, it was meant to declare a champion, but the match ended in a draw after 36 minutes. The fight represented a move away from the tournament format and into a card of single matches similar to a boxing event. The UFC also earned a reputation for its extreme violence and the absurdity of some of the matches, one of which—between a mixed martial artist and a sumo wrestler—featured nine-inch height and a 400-pound weight difference.

Living up to its early tagline “there are no rules,” UFC promotion gained a reputation for being especially violent and was still known as “no-holds-barred fighting” in many states through the late 1990s. In 1996, Arizona Senator John McCain called the sport “human cockfighting” and sent letters to every state urging them to ban it. Thirty-six states did so, largely relegating the UFC’s events to the southeast United States and other countries. The president of the National Cable Television Association also warned cable companies that airing UFC fights could lead to scrutiny from the federal government, and a number of top cable providers blacked out the promotion on TV.

For several years in the late 1990s, the UFC languished as a regional niche sport until it was thrown a lifeline by Donald Trump. In September 2000, the New Jersey State Athletic Control Board (NJSACB) established a probationary period allowing MMA events to take place in the state so the board could create a unified set of rules to regulate the sport. In November, Trump Plaza hosted UFC 28 in Atlantic City, the first UFC event in New Jersey.

Atlantic City had become a hub for boxing after casino gambling was legalized in New Jersey in 1977 and regularly hosted boxing matches; however, most big prize fights still occurred in larger cities like New York or in Las Vegas. Looking to grow the profile of his casinos—and in turn Atlantic City—Trump began bringing major events to the beachside resort. In 1988, Trump outbid several Las Vegas casinos to bring Mike Tyson’s heavyweight title bouts to Atlantic City. Tyson took on Larry Holmes in January that year and Michael Spinks in June. Trump looked to sports to expand his profile even after pushing the United States Football League out of business in 1985 by convincing other owners to move to a fall schedule while he was suing the NFL.

In between the two Tyson title fights, Trump Plaza hosted Wrestlemania IV, forging a relationship between Trump and World Wrestling Entertainment (WWE), which is now a sister company to the UFC under TKO Holdings after a 2023 merger. Trump grew his partnership with WWE, hosting Wrestlemania V in 1989 and was later included in storylines for the professional wrestling promotion; he was inducted into the WWE Hall of Fame in 2013. Linda McMahon, the current U.S. secretary of education, previously served as president and CEO of WWE.

Fighters Clay Guida and Marcus Aurelio compete in UFC 74: Respect in Las Vegas in 2007. (Photo: Lee Brimelow/Wikimedia Commons)

After UFC 29 took place in Japan in December 2000, U.S. businessman Dana White worked with casino executives Frank and Lorenzo Fertitta to create Zuffa, LLC and buy the UFC for $2 million. At the time, White had been working as a promoter for fighters in Las Vegas and saw an opportunity to grow the combat sport. A month after the sale was finalized in January 2001, UFC 30 returned to Atlantic City with Trump Plaza hosting the first event under Zufa ownership, followed by UFC 31 five months later, forging a relationship between White and Trump.

At the same time, boxing was undergoing significant changes following passage of the Muhammad Ali Boxing Reform Act in 2000, which increased regulations that protected fighters from being exploited. However, MMA is not covered in the Act, and White and his partners saw an opportunity to control the entire sport—and its fighters. Unlike in boxing, the UFC signs fighters to exclusive contracts and they are considered independent contractors, excusing the company from providing fighters with employee benefits, while also barring them from negotiating or fighting for other promotions. Over time, UFC pushed out or bought competitors, allowing UFC to essentially monopolize MMA in the US.

A true turning point was the premiere of the reality show The Ultimate Fighter, which debuted after WWE Raw in January 2005, exactly a year after another reality show, The Apprentice, boosted the business of Donald Trump. As The Apprentice did for Trump, The Ultimate Fighter significantly boosted visibility for White and the UFC.

Misogyny and politics

As the UFC grew, it faced a number of controversies that both invited criticism while fortifying its mostly male, conservative fanbase. Women have largely been ignored, if not unwelcome, in combat sports, with women’s judo not debuting as an official Olympic sport until 1992; women’s boxing followed 20 years later. Dana White famously said in 2011 that women would never fight in the UFC, but two months later UFC parent company Zuffa bought competing MMA promotion Strikeforce, which did have a women’s division. Two years later, when Strikeforce was fully merged with UFC, the first women’s fight occurred, pitting Ronda Rousey against Liz Carmouche.

Even with the introduction of women’s divisions, the locker room culture in the UFC and many training gyms continues to be toxic and misogynistic, with male fighters regularly making sexist comments, including some directed at fellow fighters. There is also significantly less coverage of and support for women fighters, with only three fighting divisions for women compared to eight for men.

UFC’s controversies extend beyond sexism. Like Trump, Dana White has had a contentious relationship with much of the media. He pulled credentials from several MMA reporters after they broke the story that fighter Brock Lesnar was returning to the UFC before the official announcement. White also recently called media members and journalists “nobodies,” bristling at what he considers critical coverage of the UFC regarding its response to sexism in the sport and treatment of fighters.

President Donald Trump (seated) with UFC fighters in the Oval Office on Wednesday, May 6, 2026. (Photo: Molly Riley/White House)

White strengthened his relationship with Trump by endorsing him for president in 2016. At that time, more political content was included in UFC broadcasts, deepening the connection between UFC promotion and conservative media and leveraging that connection to increase Trump’s appeal with young men through the UFC and podcast environment known as the “manosphere.” Top podcaster Joe Rogan has been a commentator for the UFC since 1997, and its fighters often appear on podcasts and conservative media, with several also endorsing Trump.

White and Trump maintained their relationship through his first presidency and the legal issues that followed his loss to Joe Biden in 2020. The UFC was integral in helping Trump revitalize his public image after the January 6 riots and the legal controversies that followed him in between his presidential terms. Trump’s attendance at UFC events were among his first public appearances after the tumultuous end to his first term and were often celebrated on UFC broadcasts. This relationship continued through his 2024 campaign, during which Dana White introduced Trump as the 2024 Republican nominee for president at the Republican National Convention.

Fewer than two weeks after the 2024 election, Trump attended UFC 309 at Madison Square Garden, where he allegedly broached the topic of a White House UFC event to Dana White. Trump announced the event on July 3, 2025, and White officially confirmed it would take place.

Combat sports have historically been leveraged for political gain, so the relationship between UFC and Trump is not unusual, even if the upcoming White House event is a dramatic break from convention. Matches between rival ethnic or racial groups continue to be a huge draw in combat sports, a trend that dates back centuries and includes fights between Joe Louis and Nazi-backed Max Schmeling and later the Rumble in the Jungle and Thrilla in Manila, which dictators in Zaire and the Phillipines, respectively, leveraged to sportwash their authoritarian regimes.

White has leveraged his relationship with Trump both economically and politically as he looks to expand his empire. In 2025, with the backing of the Saudi Arabian Public Investment Fund’s subsidiary Sola, White launched Zuffa Boxing to bring the UFC exclusivity model to boxing. White is currently lobbying congress to pass the Muhammad Ali American Boxing Revival Act, which does guarantee minimum pay and health insurance for boxers, but would eliminate other protections against organizations acting as promoters, organizers and ranking entities—a move that could ultimately lead to similar exploitation and monopolistic practices that have been claimed by UFC fighters.

The Saudis’ involvement in sports, which includes WWE events, LIV Golf, and the 2034 World Cup, is seen as an effort by the Saudi monarchy to sportwash the country’s image. The Public Investment Fund is providing financing for Paramount’s bid to buy Warner Bros. Discovery, as Paramount aggressively pursues WBD under David Ellison’s ownership.

About a month before Paramount began its pursuit of WBD, and a few days after the Ellisons’ purchase of Paramount was finalized, UFC signed a lucrative media rights deal with Paramount for 7 years, $7.7 billion with UFC Freedom 250, preceded by the Friday night weigh-in at the Lincoln Memorial, streaming on Paramount+.

For the casual observer, a UFC fight on the White House lawn might seem random, if not ridiculous, but for those familiar with Trump’s relationships and his love of spectacles, it is clear why the event was organized. Rather than an isolated event, it is the culmination of relationships Trump has formed with supporters, including White, whom he has known for more than a quarter century.

Jared Bahir Browsh is an assistant teaching professor of critical sports studies in the �鶹��Ѱ��Boulder Department of Ethnic Studies.

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UFC Freedom 250, the MMA event planned for the White House lawn June 14, represents a decades-long relationship between President Donald Trump and UFC.

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Top image: Fighting cage being built on the White House lawn for UFC Freedom 250 on June 14. (Photo: G. Edward Johnson/Wikimedia Commons)

Some still like it hot

Rachel Sauer — Mon, 01 Jun 2026 13:00:00 +0000

Some still like it hot Rachel Sauer Mon, 06/01/2026 - 07:00

Cody DeBos

On what would have been her 100th birthday, Marilyn Monroe still defies the image society gave her, says �鶹��Ѱ��Boulder film historian Clark Farmer

Platinum blond hair framing red lips parted just so. A white skirt flapping over the grate of a subway. Her image, the portrait of 1950s Americana, is instantly recognizable.

Marilyn Monroe, born Norma Jeane Mortenson on June 1, 1926, died at age 36. Today, a century after her birth, Marilyn Monroe remains one of the most iconic stars in American cultural history.

But how well do we actually know her? More importantly, what does it mean that we know the image so much better than the woman beneath?

Clark Farmer, a �鶹��Ѱ��Boulder assistant teaching professor in the Department of Cinema Studies and Moving Image Arts, encourages students to look closer at film and the cultural machinery responsible for our favorite on-screen stories.

Clark Farmer, an assistant teaching professor in the Department of Cinema Studies and Moving Image Arts at the �鶹��Ѱ��, has spent his career teaching students to look closer at film and the cultural machinery responsible for our favorite on-screen stories.

On what would be Monroe’s 100th birthday, Farmer offers a nuanced perspective of her mythos.

A star is built

The Monroe the world knows was as much discovered as she was constructed. When Norma Jeane entered the film business in 1946, the Hollywood studio system was already adept at creating personalities for its stars.

“Studios had a vast machinery to manufacture personas for their actors, but the performers were able to contribute to the process,” Farmer says.

That was something Monroe took seriously. She collaborated with her personal makeup artist, Allan “Whitey” Snyder, to develop the signature look she debuted in Niagara.

“This is the look that people who have never seen a Monroe film still recognize. The look immortalized in Andy Warhol’s silkscreens,” Farmer says.

Of course, studios also controlled which roles stars were cast in, giving them an outsized say in how they were seen. From the start, Monroe was handed “dumb blonde” parts and spent years fighting to be seen as something more.

More than glamour

Hollywood had no shortage of glamorous women before Monroe arrived on set and has had no shortage since. Rita Hayworth set hearts alight and Betty Grable smiled her way onto wartime pinups.

However, when Monroe broke through in 1953, starring in Niagara, Gentlemen Prefer Blondes and How to Marry a Millionaire, the cultural shock was palpable. That same December, the first issue of Playboy hit newsstands with Monroe starring in its centerfold.

“She wasn’t simply glamorous or alluring,” Farmer says. “She was sexuality personified.”

Unlike earlier Hollywood sirens who projected power and control, Monroe came across unguarded, almost innocent.

“Monroe seemed softer and more vulnerable, even to some extent damaged. Men might project on to her fantasies of an unthreatening partner who didn’t demand anything from them,” Farmer says of the way Monroe’s sexuality was coded.

That image only deepened her allure. After her untimely death, the idea of Monroe as a beautiful victim became a permanent part of her star persona.

During the 1950s, though, her status as the “ultimate sex symbol” was cemented in the zeitgeist. It was widely accepted during a time when cultural gender roles were incredibly narrow.

A year after her death in 1962, the publication of Betty Friedan’s The Feminine Mystique would help launch second-wave feminism. This was the start of an evolution in how society viewed Monroe and helped pave the way for wider appreciation of the actress, not just the image.

“I think that the true legacy of Monroe is in her performances, where you can see her as a great talent that transcends just being an image,” says �鶹��Ѱ��Boulder film historian Clark Farmer. (Photo: Wikimedia Commons)

“I think it is a better world where a woman isn’t reduced to being just sex and nothing else, and we can instead see their sexuality as part of their complete humanity,” Farmer says.

The actress behind the archetype

While studios and many fans were content to enjoy the eye candy, Farmer is quick to point out the seriousness with which Monroe approached her craft. From 1947, she trained in Method acting, first at the Actors' Laboratory Theater and later at Lee Strasberg's Actors Studio in New York.

Her 1956 film Bus Stop, filmed under a new contract that gave her more creative control, was a turning point. Monroe took on an Ozark accent and stripped away her signature glamour to deliver a performance that garnered a positive critical reception for her acting chops rather than her looks.

However, Farmer says dramatic work wasn’t where Monroe’s talent was greatest. He suggests comedy was where her star shined brightest.

“Critics and audiences often underestimate how much skill goes into comic acting,” Farmer says. “In part because ‘serious’ acting is associated with dramatic roles. But playing a ‘dumb blonde’ who secretly isn’t so dumb is actually very challenging.”

In films like Gentlemen Prefer Blondes and Some Like It Hot, Farmer sees an actress using irony, comedic timing and quiet intelligence to subvert the stereotypes she’s performing.

“Today I think we recognize the immense skill in her comic roles,” he says.

A lasting image

More than six decades after her death, Monroe’s image has grown only more vivid. That is no accident.

“James Dean and Marilyn Monroe are encased in the amber of film at the moment of their peak popularity. We don’t have to let a pesky thing like aging get in the way of fantasizing about them,” Farmer says. “Monroe will never be older than 36.”

Earlier Hollywood sex symbols didn’t fare as well. Many saw their stars rise and fall with their eras. Others found themselves embroiled in controversy, forever tarnishing once glamourous personas.

Monroe’s untimely death froze her popularity at its height, and her image would go on to inspire everyone from Madonna to a generation of filmmakers who never met her.

Still, most people, including the students in Farmer’s classes, know Monroe’s image from a distance, but have never actually watched her work.

“They are often surprised by her singing ability, her comic timing, and her obvious intelligence,” Farmer says.

On Monroe’s 100th, perhaps the most fitting tribute is to not just admire the icon, but to watch her films with greater appreciation for the woman smiling behind the cherry lipstick.

“I think that the true legacy of Monroe is in her performances,” Farmer says, “where you can see her as a great talent that transcends just being an image.”

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On what would have been her 100th birthday, Marilyn Monroe still defies the image society gave her, says �鶹��Ѱ��Boulder film historian Clark Farmer.

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Happiness in literature isn’t entirely a matter of chance

Rachel Sauer — Fri, 15 May 2026 18:19:24 +0000

Happiness in literature isn’t entirely a matter of chance Rachel Sauer Fri, 05/15/2026 - 12:19

Alexandra Phelps

Which is why readers and storytellers continue turning to Jane Austen, says �鶹��Ѱ��Boulder scholar Nicole Mansfield Wright, considering why this enduring proto-feminist writer still holds a place in the classroom

Last week, The Other Bennet Sister debuted on BritBox, allowing U.S. viewers to enjoy the latest reworking of Jane Austen’s Pride & Prejudice—this time telling the story of the often-overlooked Bennet sister Mary.

The series, based on the novel by Janice Hadlow, first debuted in the United Kingdom on the BBC and arrives in what would have been Jane Austen’s 250th birthday year (her birthday was Dec. 16). Known for her ability to capture the beauty of the ordinary lives of everyday people, Austen wrote novels that remain relevant centuries later. In the opening lines of Mansfield Park she declares, "Let other pens dwell on guilt and misery," revealing that as a writer, she strived to depict joy and community within the lives she created in her novels.

Yet even in developing happy and uplifting plotlines, Austen didn’t refrain from commenting on the social pressures and shortcomings of her society. Two and a half centuries later, the strength of this proto-feminist icon still remains in classrooms as students discover through Austen how gender, choice, relationships and power interact with one another.

Year after year, says �鶹��Ѱ��Boulder scholar Nicole Mansfield Wright, students are surprised by Jane Austen, connecting to her writing in ways they didn’t think they could.

Nicole Mansfield Wright, an associate professor of English at the �鶹��Ѱ��, has seen Austen’s power firsthand. As a scholar of late 18th- and early 19th-century British literature, she notices that students often presume Austen’s writing will be prim, proper and unrelatable to their own lives. Year after year, though, students are surprised by Austen, she says, connecting to her writing in ways they didn’t think they could.

On a broader level, Austen resonates with people even though our political structures are different from hers, says Wright, who received international coverage for an op-ed she wrote on Austen's political relevance today, “Alt-Right Jane Austen.” On a personal level, Wright explains that Austen “resonates because she’s both relatable and profound. She speaks to situations we recognize, like having a sister whom you’re really close with or not being able to suss out what a crush thinks about you. These are really relatable situations, but she takes them seriously. She’s not just sensationalizing it.”

When teaching Austen, Wright encourages students to look through various lenses at the elements that make her novels so complex. Although Austen published just four novels while she was alive—two more were published posthumously—her limited body of work still captures the dynamics that exist within a wide range of social classes and experiences. These experiences are what allow students to connect to her work. “She’s into exploring our everyday experiences and helping us think through: ‘What kind of person do I want to be in the world?’” Wright remarks.

In Wright’s course “Developments in the Novel,” she includes Austen’s Sense and Sensibility. In one scene, Elinor Dashwood, the eldest Dashwood sister, has a conversation with Colonel Brandon, a suitor of Elinor’s sister Marianne. Brandon mentions the sadness and loss when young people sacrifice their own ideas and originality for conformity, observing, “One is sorry to see them give way to the reception of more general opinions.” Wright uses moments like this to help students understand the importance of advocating for their own ideas.

Recalling a phrase from Paulo Freire’s Pedagogy of the Oppressed, which she encountered when she was a college student herself, Wright says, “One thing I really find important to my pedagogical strategy is that I don't think about education as ‘banking knowledge.’ I’m not dispensing information and then students store it in a bank and don’t question it. It’s about giving students a toolkit to decide how they’re going to operate out in the world. To be informed so that when they come across these ideas especially in this world of misinformation, they can be knowledgeable and they can come to the table with their own ideas.”

Publishing anonymously

Although today Austen’s novels—Sense and Sensibility, Pride and Prejudice, Mansfield Park, Emma, Persuasion and Northanger Abbey—are widely read, she didn’t publish under her name during her lifetime. Wright explains that female authors were often viewed as scandalous. “If you published a novel as a female author, you had to seemingly disavow your authorship. During her lifetime, Jane Austen’s name was not emblazoned on the covers of her books; one novel was attributed to ‘A Lady,’ for example.” During Austen’s life, the literary canon was overwhelmingly male, and women who wrote instead of keeping to the domestic sphere were often seen as morally suspect.

Austen’s legacy exists partially because of the way she centers and distributes power to female protagonists, says Nicole Mansfield Wright. (Photo: actress Ella Bruccoleri as Mary Bennet in The Other Bennet Sister. BBC/Bad Wolf)

Today, that canon has expanded to include a broader range of writers and stories, and there are ongoing discussions about what works deserve recognition. “There’s this idea of scarcity; that there’s only a set amount of attention. If we give this attention to new authors, is it taking away from honoring the authors who have stood the test of time?” Wright asks. “I would retort something along the lines of ‘Why do we have to choose?’” Literature, she argues, continues to offer new ideas and important insights, especially for students who are learning how to engage with the world around them.

Despite Austen’s limited catalogue, Wright resists naming just one novel as important to read. Instead, she approaches them “in an apothecary way. There are different Austens I can prescribe based on what malady you have.” For students and those reading for pleasure, there are different novels that can speak to universal feelings, she says. “If you’re worried about not getting started in life right and it seems like everyone is moving ahead of you, [pick up] Persuasion. If you’re an awkward person and you feel like you’re an outlier from others and that you’re not valued, [read] Mansfield Park. If you just want a good laugh, [choose] Pride and Prejudice. There are definite advantages to choosing each; it’s hard to choose just one.”

Austen’s legacy exists partially because of the way she centers and distributes power to female protagonists, Wright says, adding that Austen’s novels importantly “sustain a dialectic—a debate—rather than settling it,” and allow characters to exist beyond categories such as good or bad. Wright explains that more broadly, “novels remind us that our individual choices cumulatively can operate for or against justice. They make us feel less helpless. I have had situations where I think back to what this character would do in this situation.”

For students and readers navigating their own uncertainties and decisions, Austen’s novels offer an enduring possibility—a way to see themselves in characters who, despite being written centuries ago, were also questioning their belonging, identity, and power.

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Top photo: A scene of the five Bennet sisters from The Other Bennet Sister (Photo: BBC/Bad Wolf)

¡Ándale! ¡Ándale! ¡Arriba! ¡Arriba!

Rachel Sauer — Tue, 07 Apr 2026 16:10:13 +0000

¡Ándale! ¡Ándale! ¡Arriba! ¡Arriba! Rachel Sauer Tue, 04/07/2026 - 10:10

With Warner Bros. greenlighting a new Speedy Gonzales movie in January 2026, the character’s redemption arc appears complete. (Illustration: Warner Bros.)

Jared Bahir Browsh

With Speedy Gonzales set to make his triumphant return to the silver screen, the character’s redemption arc appears complete

“¡Ándale! ¡Ándale! ¡Arriba! ¡Arriba!”

Meaning “hurry up, let’s go,” the trademark slogan of Speedy Gonzales was, for generations of children, the first Spanish words they learned.

But by the 1980s, ABC had pulled his cartoons due to concerns that his dress, accent and characters like his cousin, Slowpoke Rodriguez, were insensitive toward Mexicans and Mexican Americans. The Cartoon Network followed suit in 1999.

Jared Bahir Browsh is the Critical Sports Studies program director in the �鶹��Ѱ��Boulder Department of Ethnic Studies.

I’ve studied and written about the history of animation, including how characters have been received around the world. Though rooted in a well-intentioned effort at cultural sensitivity, taking Speedy Gonzales off the air was a step too far for many viewers. He was one of the few cartoon characters rooted in Mexican identity, and he’d become a cultural icon across all of Latin America. The ensuing uproar in the wake of his cancellation prompted the Cartoon Network to reinstate the cartoon mouse in 2002.

With Warner Bros. greenlighting a new Speedy Gonzales movie in January 2026, the character’s redemption arc appears complete.

A speedy rise to stardom

“The fastest mouse in all of Mexico” first appeared in the 1953 animated short “Cat-Tails for Two.”

He was redesigned with his iconic yellow sombrero and red kerchief when he starred in his eponymous 1955 film, which won the Oscar for Best Animated Short.

The short film features the general framework for future plots: Speedy helps members of his border community – a place inspired by Ciudad Juarez, just south of El Paso, Texas – evade the conniving Sylvester the Cat.

It opens with a town of starving mice looking longingly at the AJAX cheese factory through a fence establishing an “international border.” They try to determine who will try to outrun Sylvester, the factory’s guard. One of the mice says that his sister is friends with Speedy Gonzales. (Another pipes in that Speedy is friends with everybody’s sister, signaling Speedy as something of a Don Juan.) After they call on Speedy, he uses his speed and smarts to outrun and outwit Sylvester.

The basic premise also appears in a number of cartoons, from Tom and Jerry to Roadrunner and Wile E. Coyote: An antagonist is consistently thwarted by a clever protagonist who avoids increasingly complicated traps and attempts at capture.

Speedy Gonzales is unique, though, in that he was the first cartoon star to be from a Latin American country.

In the 1940s, with the European and Asian markets cut off due to World War II, Disney had turned to the Latin American market. The studio produced “Saludos Amigos” in 1942 and “The Three Caballeros” in 1944 to abide by President Franklin D. Roosevelt’s Good Neighbor Policy, which aimed to leverage diplomacy, trade and cultural exchange to improve relations with Latin America.

Speedy ended up appearing in 45 theatrical shorts. In 1969, Warner Bros. shut down its animation studio, but the character lived on in Saturday morning cartoon anthologies like “The Bugs Bunny Show,” which repackaged older cartoons for younger audiences.

Animation’s racial reckoning

The Cartoon Network pulled Speedy Gonzales from the air at a time when networks and studios were starting to reassess animated characters from earlier eras.

Many early cartoon characters, including Mickey Mouse, had been modeled after blackface minstrel characters. Warner Bros.‘ first star, Bosko, was originally patented as “Negro Boy.”

With Warner Bros. greenlighting a new Speedy Gonzales movie in January 2026, the character’s redemption arc appears complete. (Illustration: Warner Bros.)

Since racist tropes were ubiquitous in early-20th-century animation, films and shorts like Disney’s “Dumbo,” “Mickey’s Mellerdrammer” or Warner Bros.’ “All This and Rabbit Stew” were either pulled, edited or updated to feature a content warning.

But after The Cartoon Network pulled Speedy Gonzales from the air in 1999, there was unexpected pushback from the Hispanic American community and the character’s Latin American fans. Groups like League of United Latin American Citizens, the oldest Hispanic civil rights organization in the United States, declared Speedy a cultural icon and requested that his cartoons return to the air.

Back when Speedy Gonzales was first introduced to audiences, Hollywood had been filming more movies in Mexico and at the U.S.-Mexico border. However, most of these films depicted Latinos as either incompetent or villains.

In this regard, Speedy represented something different. Though the character’s English speech and accent reflected stereotypes – and he was voiced by a white actor, Mel Blanc – the character was ultimately a clever, quick-witted and good-natured protagonist. And the Spanish dubbing of his cartoons in Latin America had removed the stereotypical accent altogether.

Let the people decide

The trajectory of Speedy Gonzales resembles that of another controversial cartoon character: Apu Nahasapeemapetilon from “The Simpsons.”

An Indian immigrant who earned his Ph.D. in computer science in his home country, Apu becomes the manager of a convenience store in the U.S.

Some critics viewed Apu’s depiction as problematic; voiced by a white actor, Hank Azaria, Apu’s exaggerated Indian-American accent and catchphrase – “Thank you, come again” – was routinely mimicked and mocked by viewers of the show. Others, however, saw Apu as the embodiment of the American Dream: He was intelligent, hardworking and morally grounded.

Cultural theorists like Jacques Derrida and Stuart Hall have written about the complexities of how audiences understand – and either resist or embrace – what they read and watch. They ultimately argue that viewers and readers often interpret media however they see fit, regardless of the creators’ intent. For example, many minority groups who are underrepresented or misrepresented in popular culture will nonetheless find their own meaning and inspiration in characters, even if those characters weren’t supposed to represent those groups in the first place.

This happened with “The Goofy Movie.” Some audiences went on to describe the 1995 film as Disney’s first “Black” animated feature, despite the fact that the characters’ race is never mentioned. There were hints, of course: Black R&B singer Tevin Campbell played the movie’s fictional pop star, Powerline, and the themes of fatherhood and generational tensions eerily echo those in the play “Fences,” written by Black playwright August Wilson.

Of course, in the case of a character like Speedy Gonzales, depictions can become more nuanced as cultural norms and sensitivities change. Jorge R. Gutiérrez is set to direct the animated feature. If his work on films like “The Book of Life” is any indication, he’ll be well-equipped to bring cultural awareness to the animated feature – even if Speedy continues to sport his big, floppy sombrero.

Jared Bahir Browsh is an assistant teaching professor of critical sports studies in the �鶹��Ѱ��Boulder Department of Ethnic Studies.

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article

With Speedy Gonzales set to make his triumphant return to the silver screen, the character’s redemption arc appears complete.

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TikTok doesn’t change minds—it changes moods

Rachel Sauer — Mon, 23 Mar 2026 23:25:55 +0000

TikTok doesn’t change minds—it changes moods Rachel Sauer Mon, 03/23/2026 - 17:25

Bradley Worrell

New research from �鶹��Ѱ��Boulder political scientist Michelangelo Landgrave finds that watching political influencers on TikTok does not seem to influence young voters on the issues—but does leave them feeling sadder, angrier and more anxious

If you are over the age of 30, put aside those preconceived ideas that TikTok is just a website where teens and young adults watch 10-second videos of cute cats.

According to the Pew Research Center, about one in five U.S. adults now regularly gets their news from TikTok—and usage is highest among people under age 30. That shift prompted �鶹��Ѱ�� political scientist Michelangelo Landgrave to ask a simple but important question: What does consuming political content on TikTok actually do to young voters?

In a new study published in Political Studies Review, Landgrave and his co-authors found that while TikTok videos from political influencers don’t appear to change young voters’ positions on the issues, they do have an impact—making those viewers feel more negative emotional states, such as anxiety, anger and sadness.

�鶹��Ѱ��Boulder political scientist Michelangelo Landgrave and his research colleagues found that while TikTok political influencers may not change minds, they do change moods.

Landgrave recently discussed the findings of his research paper with Colorado Arts and Sciences Magazine. His comments have been edited lightly for clarity and condensed.

Question: How does this latest study fit into your broader area of research?

Landgrave: I study American politics broadly, including institutions and political behavior. This paper is primarily a behavior study. It was inspired by earlier work examining how exposure to traditional news media—like Fox News and CNN—shapes political beliefs.

We started thinking that traditional media isn’t where many young people get their news anymore. Instead, they’re getting it from TikTok or similar short‑form video platforms like YouTube. It’s arguably the only type of media where the number of people getting news is actually increasing. Traditional media still has an audience, but it’s relatively stagnant and it skews older.

That led us to ask: Does this change in media format affect how people process political information?

Question: At the outset, were you surprised to learn how many younger Americans are getting their news from TikTok?

Landgrave: Somewhat. One of our co‑authors, Robert Anstett, was a student at the time, and we brought him onto the project explicitly because neither I nor the other senior co‑author, Abdelaziz Alsharawy (assistant professor at UT Health Houston School of Public Health), really used TikTok. We had a sense this was happening, but we weren’t firsthand users of TikTok.

We had read a Pew Research Center report noting that an increasing number of people get their news from TikTok, and both of us thought, ‘Isn’t that just a 5‑second clip? What can you really get from that?’

That skepticism helped motivate the study.

Question: When and where was this study conducted?

Landgrave: This study was conducted in 2023 at the University of Missouri while I was finishing my work there. Missouri turned out to be ideal because, while it’s a red state at the presidential level, the local student population was about evenly split—roughly 50% Democrat and 50% Republican. The experiment involved political science students who agreed to participate in the experiment.

Question: How did the experiment work?

Landgrave: At the start of the weeklong study, participants were randomly assigned—regardless of their political views—to one of three groups. One group watched Democratic‑leaning political videos, another watched Republican‑leaning videos, and the control group watched nonpolitical content—mostly animal videos.

We didn’t produce the videos ourselves. These were real TikTok videos that had been popular in the week leading up to the study.

"Because the videos are so short, influencers rely heavily on emotion rather than argument. Both Democratic and Republican videos leaned strongly on negative emotions—sadness, fear and anxiety," says �鶹��Ѱ��Boulder scholar Michelangelo Landgrave.

Question: With political influencer content, did you notice any notable differences in who was producing the content by age, gender or race? What about the frequency of posts?

Landgrave: That surprised us. We expected differences but we didn’t find much. Age, gender and racial diversity were fairly balanced across political sides.

We did observe that Democratic‑leaning influencers produce more videos and tend to have more followers. Both are still dwarfed by nonpolitical content like animal videos, but there is a clear production imbalance. It’s unclear whether that’s due to the algorithm or differences in content creation. We can’t say for sure.

Question: Were there differences in the way Democratic and Republican influencers made their cases to TikTok viewers?

Landgrave: That was one of our most interesting findings. Because the videos are so short, influencers rely heavily on emotion rather than argument. Both Democratic and Republican videos leaned strongly on negative emotions—sadness, fear and anxiety.

Republican‑leaning videos tended to show more negative emotions like contempt and fear. That said, both sides relied heavily on negative emotions. Democratic-leaning videos were more likely to utilize anger. By contrast, traditional news often includes lighter or feel‑good stories, while animal videos found on TitkTok are, of course, just animals being animals.

Question: If the political videos on TikTok are less than a minute, it doesn’t seem like that’s enough time to properly address an issue in a substantive way?

Landgrave: Exactly. Even short television news segments usually provide some nuance and context. There’s a reason it takes 10, 20 or even 60 minutes to follow the news properly. With 5‑ or 10‑second clips, there’s very little room for nuance—you’re really only getting snippets.

Question: After the weeklong experiment, research subjects who watched these influencer videos showed no evidence of changing their opinions on political topics?

Landgrave: That’s correct. We didn’t find evidence that political attitudes changed—even after a full week of exposure. This is important because it wasn’t just one video; the algorithm adapts. Once someone starts watching a type of content, TikTok shows them more of it. So, effectively, we were altering their algorithm for a week—and still didn’t see attitude change.

It’s possible longer exposure—months or years—could matter, but at least over a week, we didn’t see a direct effect on political attitudes.

Question: But you did see emotional effects even at just one week?

Landgrave: Yes. While political attitudes didn’t change, emotional states did. After a week of political TikTok exposure—regardless of whether it was Democratic or Republican—participants reported feeling more sadness, anxiety and anger.

I went into this study fairly ambivalent, assuming concerns were probably overstated. But after seeing the results, I’m genuinely worried about the emotional effects on young people.

�鶹��Ѱ��Boulder scholar Michelangelo Landgrave and his research colleagues found that after a week of political TikTok exposure—regardless of whether it was Democratic or Republican—participants reported feeling more sadness, anxiety and anger. (Photo: Kelly Sikkema/Unsplash)

Question: Do you believe there are possible policy implications here?

Landgrave: Speaking only as a private citizen, and not representing �鶹��Ѱ��Boulder’s position, I think there’s reason for concern—particularly regarding children and teenagers. While we didn’t find direct political effects, we did find emotional harm.

That suggests policymakers should consider stronger safeguards, whether that’s time limits, improved parental controls or other measures.

Question: Why do you think emotions changed but political attitudes didn’t?

Landgrave: That surprised me, too. We focused on young adults because their political views are still forming. If there were going to be an effect, we expected to see it there.

One possibility is that emotional effects accumulate faster than ideological change. I also wonder whether younger audiences—middle school or even elementary‑age children—might be more susceptible, though that research would require different expertise.

Question: Were your survey participants already using TikTok?

Landgrave: Almost all of them. Only about five participants had never used TikTok. Most already had accounts and varied only in how much they used it. Our intervention didn’t replace their normal viewing—it nudged the algorithm by requiring them to watch specific videos daily.

Question: How confident are you that TikTok itself caused the negative emotional effects, rather than outside life stress?

Landgrave: Because it was an experimental study with random assignment, we’re confident we controlled for most external factors. That said, I’d love to explore conditional effects—whether the impact is stronger for heavy users, rural populations or people with fewer entertainment alternatives.

Question: Do you believe this is a subject area worthy of more exploration, possibly on what longer-term exposure to TikTok might mean for mental health outlook? And maybe whether political influencers have a greater influence over a longer-term period?

Landgrave: Long‑term experimental studies would be very difficult, but observational work is possible. As a researcher—and as a teacher—I’m increasingly concerned about the mental health effects (of social media) on younger people. I see students who seem almost addicted to these platforms, and I worry about my nieces and nephews too.

I want to be clear: This is speculative, but I can imagine an indirect effect over time. Years of exposure to emotionally negative content could potentially radicalize people or increase tolerance for extreme behavior. Our study can’t prove that, but it raises important questions.

Question: If you do more research on this particular subject, what might that look like?

Landgrave: We want to use eye‑tracking technology—glasses that track where people are actually looking. That would help us understand whether viewers are focused on the speaker, the text or even the video at all. Future studies might also involve controlled lab settings to see whether focused attention changes outcomes.

Question: Have you received feedback from other researchers on your published work regarding TikTok influencers?

Landgrave: Yes. Colleagues have reached out, including researchers studying similar effects internationally. This may not be a uniquely American issue—it could be global.

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Film builds science into beaver tales

Rachel Sauer — Mon, 09 Mar 2026 16:46:49 +0000

Film builds science into beaver tales Rachel Sauer Mon, 03/09/2026 - 10:46

Rachel Sauer

�鶹��Ѱ��Boulder alumna Emily Fairfax shared her scientific expertise as the beaver consultant on the new Pixar film Hoppers

Emily Fairfax came home one evening from her job as a weapons engineer at Los Alamos National Laboratory feeling a bit sad. Yes, she was using her degrees in chemistry and physics, but the work just wasn’t a good fit for her.

She sat on the couch and turned on the TV, happening across an episode of Nature on PBS called “Leave it to Beavers.”

“I was so hooked,” recalls Fairfax (PhDGeol’19). “I couldn’t stop thinking about it. There were all these aerial images of beaver wetlands in places like the Nevada desert, which was amazing and I couldn’t get it out of my head. So, I thought, ‘I’ve got to go to grad school and study beavers.’”

�鶹��Ѱ��Boulder alumnus Emily Fairfax (PhDGeol’19) was the scientific beaver consultant for the new Pixar film Hoppers. (Photo: Emily Fairfax)

Fast forward to the evening of Feb. 23 on the red carpet outside the El Capitan Theatre in Hollywood, California. There, wearing a beautiful teal and black dress with a lace and sequin overlay—and having received glam tips from her grad students—Fairfax posed for photographers in front of a yellow screen bearing the images of animated beavers she’d helped bring to life.

Fairfax, whose “a-ha beavers!” moment led her to the �鶹��Ѱ�� Department of Geological Sciences, was the scientific beaver consultant for the acclaimed new Pixar film Hoppers, which opened nationwide Friday.

The story of an animal-loving college student whose mind is transferred into a robotic beaver so she can help save a pristine glade from being paved for a freeway, Hoppers highlights a keystone species in a scientifically accurate way that is, frankly, adorable.

“People need to know that they’re a keystone species,” says Fairfax, who signed on to the film project with the assurance that this point would be emphasized. “When you lose the beaver, you lose the ecosystem, and I think (Pixar filmmakers) made that crystal clear.

“The other point that I really wanted to be in the film is that beavers are not just off in national parks. You can have beavers living in cities, living adjacent to cities, and we can coexist with them to our benefit, not just the benefit of the beaver. I wanted to highlight the idea that protecting beavers and habitats isn’t just about protecting nature out of the goodness of our hearts; we benefit greatly.”

The force of a glacier

Long before her pivot from Los Alamos to �鶹��Ѱ��Boulder, Fairfax, who now is an assistant professor of geography, environment and society at the University of Minnesota, was a Girl Scout in a troop that took its role as stewards of the natural world very seriously.

“We learned the basic principles of ‘Leave No Trace’ very early on, but then our troop leaders took it a step further,” she wrote on her personal website. “They urged us to put in that little bit of extra effort and leave things better than we found them. When we went camping this usually panned out as picking up trash off of trails, but the sentiment stuck with me. If everyone strives to leave things better than they started—even if only by a little bit—then the overall state of things will consistently improve.”

It’s a sentiment that dovetailed neatly with her graduate work at �鶹��Ѱ��Boulder, where she studied beavers through the lens of ecohydrology, combining remote sensing, modeling and field work to understand how beaver damming changes the landscape and the timescales on which that change happens.

“I’m at heart a water scientist—how fast it’s moving, if it’s being slowed or stored or just blasting downstream superfast,” Fairfax says. “I care about the shape of rivers as a geomorphologist, and I’m very hyper-focused on how one specific animal controls water or the shape of water.”

Her first Colorado field site was in Lefthand Canyon west of Boulder—where, if you drive slowly and look closely, it’s possible to see an 11-foot-tall beaver dam from the road—and her dissertation research was inspired by “Leave It to Beavers”: “In the documentary, they were interviewing hydrologists and geomorphologists, who kept bringing up how beaver wetlands in these areas are the only things staying green during droughts.

Emily Fairfax takes measurements of a beaver dam in Lefthand Canyon west of Boulder. (Photo: Emily Fairfax)

“I get that beavers can seem really chaotic—they don’t draw any blueprints, they don’t pull permits, they don’t let anybody know what they’re going to do before they do it. But beavers are second only to us, humans, in terms of animals that can change the physical earth. They’ve been damming for at least 7.5 million years, maybe as long as 25 million years, so thinking about beavers as this geological force is really intellectually exciting—this rodent in my yard carries the force of a glacier.”

Inquiry from Pixar

Two years after earning her PhD and joining the California State University Channel Islands faculty, where she worked before joining the University of Minnesota faculty in 2023, Fairfax presented a Zoom webinar about beavers and drought in California that several Pixar employees attended. “I thought, ‘OK, cool, they have a right to be interested in what’s going on in their state,’” she remembers. Several months later, she received an email with the subject line “Inquiry from Pixar” and thought it was a prank.

Nope: It was legitimate.

Pixar filmmakers wanted her to give a presentation to studio staff about beavers, which she did. It turns out that Pixar was making a film about them, and after signing reams of non-disclosure agreements and securing a promise that the filmmakers wouldn’t even think about having the beaver characters eat fish—because beavers do not eat fish—Fairfax was officially the Hoppers beaver consultant.

At first, Fairfax answered a lot of basic questions about beaver behaviors, ecology, what they can and can’t do, how long they live, their family units, their size and why their teeth are orange. Then the questions started getting more specific: What other animals would you see in a beaver wetland? How do beavers get along with humans? If someone tried to build a road by a beaver wetland, how would beavers react? She brought a group of Pixar filmmakers to Lefthand Canyon for a week of beaver observation, which yielded even more questions.

“At every step along the way, they were turning seemingly disconnected beaver facts into scenes,” Fairfax says. For example, as with humans, beavers’ tailbones tuck under, allowing them to sit on their tails like little chairs. So, the scene in Hoppers in which the real beaver George sits on his tail is accurate, and the fact that the character Mabel sits with her tail outstretched is a clue that she’s not a real beaver.

The dam-building sequence in Hoppers is also scientifically accurate: “A lot of people don’t know how beavers build dams,” Fairfax explains. "It can be very sudden, and they will often use relatively large cobbles and stones to start, which they put along the base of their dams. Then they’ll put on some sticks and then pack it with mud. Everyone thinks they pat the mud on with their tails, but they actually use their paws. So, the sequence in the film where you see these super buff beavers lifting up stones and rolling them down, then you see other beavers waddling in carrying mud and patting it down, that actually shows the real sequence of dam building.”

Among the questions that Pixar filmmakers asked scientist Emily Fairfax was how beavers relate to and get along with other animals in the areas where they live. (Photo: Disney/Pixar)

Throughout the filmmaking process, Fairfax received scenes to review, so the accurately rotund beavers in the film are her doing. “The very first time I saw one of the (film) beavers, I told them it was too skinny. Beavers are shaped like a bowling ball, so when I saw it again it was a little fatter, and then I saw it again and it was a little fatter. Finally, people with Pixar were like, ‘If it’s sitting on its tail, it needs more rolls’ and ‘It should be jiggling more when it’s running.’ I was like, ‘Oh my god, this is adorable.’ They’re like big, fuzzy bowling balls, and I’m collecting all the little plushies.”

Science and storytelling

Through the process, Fairfax says, the filmmakers balanced storytelling and science. There were times when total accuracy had to concede a little to the story, “but they always asked me, ‘Is this realistic enough? Is it going to hurt beavers, is it going to hurt climate change work if we do it this way?’ They were always really good about asking me how much certain things mattered, because they are people trying to create a compelling narrative, but they also wanted to respect the science.”

(And speaking of respecting the science—and scientist—the full name of the film character Dr. Sam is Dr. Samatha Emily Fairfax.)

Fairfax’s work on the film was also a matter of balancing the often solitary, generally unglamorous work of science with the razzle-dazzle of Hollywood. She jokes that she considered wearing her waders to the Hollywood premiere, but her grad students stepped in with hair and makeup tips. And then she was on the red carpet with A-list stars like Jon Hamm, then inside the ornate theater watching the velvet curtain rise on her research via Hollywood movie magic.

“It was just so surreal,” she says. “I’d seen the movie many times before that, but it was so real in that moment, packed into this theater, all the voice actors there, and immediately I’m crying. In many ways, it felt like there was a lot of myself on that screen, and seeing people’s reactions to it felt like seeing reactions to my research.

“Trying to translate what I know in a way that’s relevant to artists was not a normal part of my job, and it felt very high risk at first because what if people don’t like the movie and it sets beavers back? Beavers are still coming back from the fur trade, plus we have the rising challenge of climate change, so it felt risky. But it’s a beautiful movie and people seem to love it, so that makes me feel very hopeful about how science and storytelling can benefit all species.”

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�鶹��Ѱ��Boulder alumna Emily Fairfax shared her scientific expertise as the beaver consultant on the new Pixar film Hoppers.

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The real Regency: What history says about Bridgerton

Rachel Sauer — Tue, 24 Feb 2026 15:18:56 +0000

The real Regency: What history says about Bridgerton Rachel Sauer Tue, 02/24/2026 - 08:18

“I’m in favor of showcasing history and literature via pop culture. To make a case for why our research matters, a key step is convincing non-academic audiences to care about our research and the history.”” says �鶹��Ѱ��Boulder scholar Nicole Mansfield Wright. (Photo: Liam Daniel/Netflix)

Cody DeBos

�鶹��Ѱ��Boulder scholar Nicole Mansfield Wright notes that Bridgerton demonstrates how fantasy can illuminate real history

With part two of Bridgerton’s fourth season arriving on Netflix this week, fans are once again swooning over romantic duels, dramatic ballroom vistas and whispered scandals.

But beneath the spectacle, many viewers wonder how much of the world on-screen comes from real history and how much is dressed up in empire waistlines for our streaming pleasure?

For Nicole Mansfield Wright, an associate professor of English at the �鶹��Ѱ��, that question is more than an idle inquiry. A scholar of British literature from the “long 18th century” (roughly 1688 to the 1830s), she specializes in understanding how literature and other imaginative media can help people either reinforce or question their beliefs about society.

Nicole Mansfield Wright, a �鶹��Ѱ��Boulder associate professor of English, is the author of Defending Privilege: Rights, Status, and Legal Peril in the British Novel.

Her verdict on Bridgerton?

“Bridgerton is a ‘Disney-fied’ version of history. Historical accuracy isn’t the point of the show—it’s escapist by design. Yet, its packaging as an escapist diversion makes its moments of tacit political critique all the more potent,” Wright says.

The real Regency

The British Regency era in which Bridgerton is set was a time of both grandeur and unrest.

“For Britain, the Regency period was an era of rejuvenation: the Prince Regent took the place of his father, King George III, who was no longer fit to govern,” Wright explains. “Great Britain was ascendant after Napoleon was vanquished. With its military might, it continued to expand its empire as a world power.”

However, it also was a time of deep inequality.

“Much like today, there was increasing resentment over inequality. The most elevated members of society reveled in opulence and conspicuous consumption, which was made possible by the desperate poverty and deprivation of rights for others,” Wright says.

Pressure for reform was growing. Labor movements gained traction. Most concerning, although the transatlantic slave trade had been abolished in 1808, was slavery’s persistence in the British colonies.

What the show gets right

Bridgerton’s aim isn’t to capture gritty realism, but within its stylized depiction of the Regency era, it occasionally lands close to emotional truths about the period.

“Some of the portrayals of gender dynamics are among the most faithful elements of the series,” Wright says.

She points to a moment when Lady Featherington and her daughters wait in silence for suitors who never come. (When some young men finally arrive, they are calling on the girls’ cousin instead.)

“In its representations of race, the series indulges in fantasy. At a time when diversity is decried as ‘woke’ and the numbers of students of color are plummeting at some colleges, Bridgerton dares to persist in envisioning a thoroughly integrated world,” says Nicole Mansfield Wright, a �鶹��Ѱ��Boulder associate professor of English. (Photo: Liam Daniel/Netflix)

“The bright chatter that pervades the rest of the episode lapses into heavy silence; and the composition of the shots seems cramped and restrictive, as opposed to the joyous ballroom panoramas from earlier in the episode,” Wright notes.

“At such points, the series suggests, the mothers’ concern is not trivial. The mothers want the best for their daughters. Marrying well—or marrying at all—could mean the difference between comfort and constant struggle.”

Even seemingly small moments, like when a young woman is told to stop reading because it will “confuse your thoughts,” have historic precedent.

“It reflects actual 18th-century hostility to women’s supposed susceptibility to being misled by fiction,” Wright adds.

But what about the fashion?

Bridgerton has been praised for its stunning on-screen visuals and lavish costumes. Wright says that, although most of the colors and costumes are chosen for their “pop” on screen, and a number of styles are taken from other eras, some elements are faithful to Regency history.

“Some looks, including empire waists, align more with the styles of the era.”

The fantasy behind Bridgerton’s world

The show’s multiracial aristocracy, egalitarian romances and modern slang might be a far cry from what history buffs hope for in a period piece. However, Wright sees them as deliberate choices that add meaning to the story being told.

“In its representations of race, the series indulges in fantasy,” she says. “At a time when diversity is decried as ‘woke’ and the numbers of students of color are plummeting at some colleges, Bridgerton dares to persist in envisioning a thoroughly integrated world.”

She points to how the show “defamiliarizes” issues of race and often gender. In presenting them this way, it allows viewers to think more critically by decoupling them from today’s headlines.

“The first season of Bridgerton aired in 2021, at the dawn of a different federal administration. For the primary demographic the show reaches—young women—the national mood was hopeful,” Wright says.

“Now, watching the show feels different in an era when Black history is being erased and the lives of people of color are at risk.”

In this light, Bridgerton’s cultural impact isn’t thanks to perfect authenticity. Rather, mingling with the show’s entertainment value is an imagining of the kind of harmonious world that could have existed at the time and, albeit with much fewer corsets, still could today.

Pop culture as a gateway to scholarship

Despite its liberties with historical accuracy, Wright believes Bridgerton and other popular period dramas can serve as important entry points to a deeper understanding of history.

“I’m in favor of showcasing history and literature via pop culture,” she says. “To make a case for why our research matters, a key step is convincing non-academic audiences to care about our research and the history.”

She’s not alone in this belief.

“Bridgerton can be a gateway for students to become more interested in historical scholarship. I just heard this yesterday when I attended a webinar on ‘Teaching the 18th-Century Beyond the Academy’ by the American Society for Eighteenth-Century Studies,” she says.

Scholars at the event shared how even loosely accurate portrayals like Bridgerton can open doors for rich classroom discussions. In modern academia, where curriculum cuts and attacks on the humanities are becoming more common, those conversations matter more than ever.

Stories still untold

When asked if she could suggest a future Bridgerton subplot, Wright’s mind didn’t venture to more galas or scandalous letters. She’d like the show to dig into one of the Regency’s darker truths: military impressment, which had ramped up from earlier times.

“This was a violent Regency-era military recruitment method. Men were ‘pressed’ into service, or forced to join the British Royal Navy, through physical attacks and intimidation,” she says. “Focusing on impressment would be a good way to explore more intensively the valuation of self-determination vs. the (supposed) greater good that’s at play even in some of Bridgerton’s frothier storylines.

“As a bonus, seafaring vignettes would be a refreshing change of scene and would furnish some large-scale vistas of the kind that make the show a feast for the eye.”

As Wright sees it, whether in Bridgerton’s ballrooms or a future epic on the high seas, popular storytelling doesn’t have to choose between fantasy and critique. In fact, when done well, she says, the fantasy itself can be the critique.

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�鶹��Ѱ��Boulder scholar Nicole Mansfield Wright notes that Bridgerton demonstrates how fantasy can illuminate real history.

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Film addresses the dark side of aging

Rachel Sauer — Tue, 27 Jan 2026 22:39:05 +0000

Film addresses the dark side of aging Rachel Sauer Tue, 01/27/2026 - 15:39

Megan Clancy

�鶹��Ѱ��Boulder sociologist Laura Patterson makes screenwriting debut with short horror film “Silent Generation”

Laura Patterson of the �鶹��Ѱ�� Department of Sociology does a lot in her field, teaching courses in research methods and environmental sociology. She also teaches about the sociology of horror in courses such as Gender, Race, and Chainsaws and co-hosts the podcast “Collective Nightmares,” which examines the sociological implications of horror films.

Now she’s added screenwriter to her resume. After years of development, writing and filming, Patterson recently completed an eight-festival circuit, including the Denver Film Festival in late 2025, showing her new film, “Silent Generation.”

Laura Patterson, a �鶹��Ѱ��Boulder assistant teaching professor of sociology, screened her short horror film "Silent Generation" at the recent Denver Film Festival.

“I think one of the things that horror can do well is make us look at the stuff that we don’t want to look at,” says Patterson.

“Silent Generation” is an eight-minute horror film that explores the dark side of aging and isolation. It follows an octogenarian as he goes about his day alone at home, watching TV and doing the laundry—a perfectly mundane task that turns bloody. And the inspiration for the film’s gruesome moment is rooted in a true story.

“It happened to my grandma, but she wasn’t living alone. My grandpa was there and my grandma was downstairs doing laundry,” Patterson recalls. “She calls to my grandpa and says, ‘Eddie, bring down the scissors.’ And so he brought the scissors down and she had got her hand stuck in the wringer washing machine, and it tore the top of her finger off. And she wanted him to just cut it off—which he wasn’t going to do. He took her to the emergency room, and they fixed things.”

But this incident got Patterson thinking about what would have happened if nobody else had been there. Thus, the idea for “Silent Generation” took hold.

“It stood out to me as a really important moment in life. The time when you notice that the people who were your caregivers now need care. And just the thin thread connecting older people to the rest of society, and how needed that connection is, because when that gets cut off there’s real danger just in the house where people are living,” says Patterson. “And you realize things that used to be normal become a threat.”

The idea stayed with Patterson for years, but she struggled to piece together how to make it into a movie.

“Since it is so short, writing the screenplay was not a big undertaking, because I kind of had the vision. But then to actually figure out how to make it, I just tried to take off like one piece at a time.”

One of the most difficult parts of creating the film, Patterson says, was actually finding the machine that would be centered in the climactic scene. The search took over a year. She eventually found the dated appliance in the 1,500-washing-machine collection of retired CSU professor, Lee Maxwell, who had curated the warehouse full of machines to represent the story of women’s liberation.

Laura Patterson's eight-minute horror film "Silent Generation" explores the dark side of aging and isolation.

Sitting with discomfort

To produce the film, Patterson connected with director Francisco Solorzano, producer Kenny Shults and cinematographer Kesten Migdal.

“They knew how to take this idea and put it onscreen. And they were amazing. Frank knew how to shoot the things and what sort of emotional tone I wanted. They knew how to actually evoke it on screen,” says Patterson. “Frank was really able to bring out the loneliness of the whole script. He was great at thinking about the timing and the way it was shot. Just to let you as an audience member really sit in that was very much something that I think he pulled out or leaned into very well.”

When it came to casting, Patterson turned to Leo Smith, the father of her podcast co-host, who readily agreed to be the film’s sole actor. Smith was making his film debut at 90 years old.

“He’d never acted before in a film, but he was excited about doing this project and kind of commenting on mortality. And this was just his house, and his laundry. We brought in the ringer washing machine, but otherwise, he just did what he does.”

Patterson sees her film as making an important comment on the peril that comes in the solitary life of a stoic generation.

“I wanted to make a film that would have a positive social impact,” she says. “The line on the poster for the film says, ‘When was the last time you called?’ I’ve gotten a lot of feedback from audiences. First you see people cringing when they’re watching the film. And then it’s kind of nice, because it seems to be accomplishing what we wanted it to accomplish. Afterward, they’re like, ‘I need to call my, you know,’ fill in the blank.

“We can all think of people—especially of that generation—that that sort of resonates with,” Patterson adds. “So, there's been a lot of audience discussion around that, and around this sort of generational divide between then and now.”

Patterson aimed to make audiences sit with the discomfort.

“It's like, no, this isn’t pleasant,” says Patterson. “But it’s even worse if you don’t look, because then this person’s sitting alone having to navigate this.”

As for whether she has another film in the works, Patterson says she’s unsure.

“I think the pieces came together so well for this to happen. And I had wanted to do it for so long, in part to inform the other things I do. I think it makes sense to have some idea what it’s like to be on the other side of the camera and just understand what that process feels like. I have a lot of film students who come into my class. Now I can have a little bit of a connection point with them, having gone through this experience.”

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�鶹��Ѱ��Boulder sociologist Laura Patterson makes screenwriting debut with short horror film “Silent Generation."

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