Latest news with #POV
Gizmodo
a day ago
- Gizmodo
Best Buy Offers GoPro HERO11 Black Mini for Practically Free to Compete With Early Prime Day Deals
Anyone who's ever watched high-octane action or adventure videos shot from the point of view (POV) of the person hurtling down the mountain, skydiving, or performing some other death-defying act, has wondered at least once, 'how do they get those shots?' See at Best Buy While many of them are, in fact, professionally shot, the DIY method has never been easier, thanks to the incredible advances in tiny wearable video cameras. The most famous of them all is the GoPro, which seems to keep getting smaller while its video quality continues to soar. Case in point: the GoPro HERO11 Black Mini, which is flying off the shelves right now at Best Buy because it's marked down to just $140. That's a huge price drop of $110 from its usual price. Capture Your Awesomeness The GoPro HERO11 Black Mini is the scaled-down version of the HERO11 Black — the two cameras were released within months of each other — but the smaller size of the Mini works to its advantage in many ways. It retains the ruggedness and durability of the HERO11, but is easier and more comfortable to use for POV videos, with a helmet mount, a handlebar mount. or body mount. Quality-wise, you're not sacrificing a thing by going with the smaller and more affordable HERO11 Mini. It shoots incredibly clear 5.3K video, and has GoPro's HyperSmooth 5.0 video stabilization technology to keep your video steady and smooth even during the wildest action. Slo-mo of up to 8x with 2.7K resolution will create incredible skiing videos that would make Warren Miller look twice, or if you'd rather share stills from your adventures, video grabs of up to 24.7 megapixel are easy to make and share. Shoot, Edit, Share Starting your action video is a one-button process with the GoPro HERO11 Mini. A simple press of the Shutter button powers up the tiny camera and starts the 5.3K video shoot. If you'd like to make your own adjustments, just switch to Pro Controls and you can play with the resolution, frame rate, and other quality settings before you start to shoot. And of course it's waterproof up to 33 feet down, so your summer scuba and snorkel videos are just a click away. When it's time to edit your videos, GoPro's Quik app makes it incredibly easy even for a first-time video editor. Adjustments are fast and easy with Quik's highly intuitive controls, and soon your amazing pro-level POV action videos are ready to be shared with friends, family, or the world via your social media accounts. Best Buy's incredible $140 deal on the GoPro HERO11 Mini gets you the tiny yet powerful camera, carrying case, curved adhesive mount that's perfect for ski or bike helmets, mounting buckle and thumb screw, and the USB-C cable you'll use to recharge the HERO11 Mini or connect it to a laptop or desktop. See at Best Buy
Gizmodo
3 days ago
- Entertainment
- Gizmodo
Visit Disneyland From the Comfort of Disney+ With More POV Walkthroughs
The Disney Experiences video library, which already includes POV ride-alongs for Star Wars: Rise of the Resistance and a Galaxy's Edge ambiance stroll, will soon add more attractions from across the Disneyland Resort. It's perfect for the fans who transform their living rooms, classrooms, and office cubicles into their ride vehicles and you'll be able to make a whole virtual grand circle tour of the park when the new videos hit the streamer July 17—which is Disneyland's 70th birthday. Here's the list of walkthrough POVs hitting Disney+ if you're chasing a particular type of Disney dopamine hit: • Pirates of the Caribbean | Disneyland Resort • Indiana Jones Adventure | Disneyland Resort • Radiator Springs Racers | Disneyland Resort • Incredicoaster | Disneyland Resort • Haunted Mansion | Disneyland Resort • Tiana's Bayou Adventure | Disneyland Resort • Cars Land | Disneyland Resort • Pixar Pal-A-Round | Disneyland Resort • Big Thunder Mountain Railroad | Disneyland Resort • Jungle Cruise | Disneyland Resort • Soarin' Around the World | Disneyland Resort • Avengers Campus | Disneyland Resort • Hollywood Land | Disneyland Resort • Main Street, U.S.A. | Disneyland Resort • Mickey's ToonTown | Disneyland Resort • 70th Celebration Nighttime Spectaculars | Disneyland Resort It's so fun to see this be an option to make the parks more accessible or even discoverable for folks who don't usually get much exposure to theme park culture. The standout is definitely Radiator Springs Racers, which showcases the incredible work Imagineering did to bring the world of Pixar's Cars to life. I don't even like the franchise but my fave Cars movie is the Cars land. There's also Indiana Jones Adventure, which got a facelift in the last couple of years after looking rough without any special effects; it's now up to state of the art standards. And my personal comfort ride Haunted Mansion is for sure going to get so many views from my household. Fingers crossed we get some Orlando Disney World drops because I need to 'live with the land' in Epcot from the West Coast. The effort to entice visitors through this digital media experience does serve as a clever sample to lure you to the real thing as the parks have recently pivoted from rising prices. We've recently been seeing a lot of sales on Disney vacations including specials for Disney+ members and other retailer promotions. Who would have thought pricing people out wouldn't work? So sprinkling in some Disney Parks magic to the streamer sure seems like a way to get more Disney vacays booked.
Los Angeles Times
03-06-2025
- Entertainment
- Los Angeles Times
Young filmmakers celebrate a radical yet joyful approach to life with ‘Hummingbirds'
Silvia Del Carmen Castaños was a student in a Laredo, Texas, high school when the budding cineaste submitted a short piece to a community film festival. 'I wasn't allowed to go because I had bad grades at school,' says Castaños, who uses they/them pronouns. However, New York-based documentarian Jillian Schlesinger did attend and saw the film. 'It got third place, but it got first place in Jillian's heart,' Castaños adds. Schlesinger, along with partner Miguel Drake-McLaughlin, had been working with student filmmakers in a local magnet arts program, with hopes of finding young visionaries to support in a collaborative production. She was 'totally blown away by the voice and creativity and craft' of Castaños' work, Schlesinger says, and quickly got in touch with her via Facebook Messenger. 'My mom was like, 'You better not go meet this random lady,'' says Castaños, who went anyway. 'I still have my kidneys and, in fact, we made a beautiful film.' That film is 'Hummingbirds,' a lyrical, nonfiction portrait of best friends — Castaños, who was then 18, and Estefanía 'Beba' Contreras, then 21 — and their dreams, anxieties and misadventures as captured in 2019, months before the pandemic reordered the world. The artists and activists, Mexican immigrants in a border town on the Rio Grande, tilt at policies targeting not only their families and neighbors but their bodies — amid sequences of chaotic abandon and stargazing reverie. Broadcast on the PBS 'POV' showcase, 'Hummingbirds' won a grand jury prize at the 2023 Berlinale and also was nominated for an Independent Spirit Award. 'We always knew we were going to be stars,' jokes Contreras, a gifted musician who directed the film with Castaños. The pair joined Schlesinger and Drake-McLaughlin — who formed a supporting production team of four co-directors with Ana Rodriguez-Falcó and Diane Ng — on a recent Zoom chat. 'It didn't feel like there was a lot of pressure to do something super extraordinary. It felt like we were doing a little school project with Silvia, and at the end, the credits [would be] all of our names, over and over and over and over,' Contreras says. While the film's celebration of feminist bonding and subversive antics shares an energy with movies like 'Ghost World' and the Czech classic 'Daisies,' the filmmakers credit Sean Baker as an inspiration. ''The Florida Project' is the rave,' says Castaños. Another more direct influence was the 2016 Polish film 'All These Sleepless Nights,' a so-called docufiction about a friendship between two young men on the Warsaw party scene. 'We didn't watch that many documentaries,' Schlesinger says, 'but we did steal a lot of production process stuff.' Besides stocking long-lasting camera batteries, the filmmakers sought ways to enhance the intimacy of each shoot. 'Not everyone who was behind the camera was also in front of the camera, but everyone who was in front of the camera was also behind the camera, if that makes sense.' Much of the film's easy, spontaneous flow arises naturally from the charismatic personalities of its subjects, already seasoned as storytellers of their own lives from an early age. 'Snapchat was the whole thing,' Castaños says. 'Social media really ruled the world when we were younger.' The filmmakers' instincts liberate the project from the canned, reality-television vibe that often compromises coming-of-age documentaries. 'We tried really hard to come up with something like fiction, but at the end of the day … it just started to become really important that we show just our normal, regular lives of being, and being silly, and what we were going through,' Contreras says. 'And there was no need for us to add anything extra.' Although shot nearly six years ago, in what now feels like another era, the political and social issues that underscore the story with such tension are even more present today. The movie is too relevant to be consigned to a time capsule. 'You don't really see it happen, but Beba and I went through a lot,' Castaños says. 'We had to board up windows and ICE raids were going on in every neighborhood, and it felt really scary. Having to teach your younger siblings not to trust figures of authority. That's very intense. Obviously, it's happening again right now. The issue is it's always happening, but it gets worse.' They cite the book 'Joyful Militancy: Building Thriving Resistance in Toxic Times,' by Carla Bergman and Nick Montgomery, as a useful touchstone. 'I talk a lot about how joy is rarely comfortable — but there is something radical about creating community and being joyful,' Castaños says. 'We're going to fly our kites. We're going to try and live our lives despite that fear. And I think that is very radical, right?'
Yahoo
18-04-2025
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
PBS Pulled a Film for Political Reasons, Then Changed Its Mind
On March 25, the veteran film producer Erika Dilday spoke at a documentary conference in Copenhagen, on a panel addressing the many challenges, political and otherwise, that now face nonfiction-film distribution. 'Even though it's terrifying, it's also incredibly energizing,' Dilday, the executive director of the nonprofit that produces PBS's long-running, Emmy-winning series POV, told the audience. 'I'm ready to paint my face, tie a band around my head, and crawl through the mud to try to save our ability to show independent content on public media.' In the background, though, the fight was not going well. Since Donald Trump returned to the White House in January, public media has been under heavy threat from legislators and the administration; plans are in the works for Congress to claw back $1.1 billion in federal funds from the Corporation for Public Broadcasting. At a House DOGE subcommittee hearing the day after Dilday spoke in Copenhagen, the chair, Marjorie Taylor Greene, accused PBS of 'brainwashing and trans-ing' America's children. Dilday herself had already seen how the situation was playing out on TV schedules. At the end of February, she'd heard from PBS that the release of Break the Game, a film from POV's current slate about a trans video gamer's relationship with fame and her fans, would be postponed indefinitely. By all appearances, the network was obeying in advance. (The Atlantic has a partnership with WETA, which receives funding from PBS and the Corporation for Public Broadcasting.) Dilday passed along that news to the film's director, Jane Wagner, in a February 24 phone call, Wagner told me. She said that the call included Chris White, an executive producer at POV and American Documentary, the nonprofit that Dilday leads. The film would not be shown as planned on April 7, they explained, because executives at PBS were worried about Break the Game's transgender themes and the risk of further political backlash. 'PBS is our platform, and we have to respect their directive,' Wagner says White told her. (Neither Dilday nor White responded to multiple requests for comment on this story.) Two days later, Dilday sent Wagner an email that confirmed the details of their phone call, including PBS's concerns about political backlash. 'I am so sorry about this,' she wrote. [Mark Leibovich: It's not easy being (Marjorie Taylor) Greene] At some point in the days that followed, the webpage for the film on was taken down, along with an associated reading guide. On April 7, PBS rebroadcast a 2022 film about a man with disabilities in what had been Break the Game's original slot. Wagner was devastated. She'd spent six years making the documentary, and paid for most of its production on her own. The network's decision to abandon it didn't even make sense to her on its own terms. 'The administration is going to come for public broadcasting because they reject the notion of public broadcasting in general,' she told me when we spoke last week. 'It doesn't matter what you show.' In any case, PBS quickly changed its mind last Friday afternoon, around the time that I reached out for comment on the film's withdrawal. Less than two hours after I'd emailed the network, Wagner received a message from White at POV: 'Wanted to let you know that PBS has just come back to us with a confirmed Break the Game airdate of June 30,' he wrote. A network spokesperson eventually shared the same news with me directly: ''Break the Game' is part of POV's summer season line-up, and it will air in June,' she wrote in an email sent on Tuesday morning, adding in a follow-up that 'a slot for this program had been identified in June to commemorate Pride Month.' PBS did not respond to questions about why Break the Game's original airdate had been canceled, or why the new one had been assigned so quickly after I'd requested comment. 'It's not hard to connect the dots here,' Wagner told me. It was 'painfully clear,' she said, that PBS had switched positions on the film in an effort to 'avoid public scrutiny and accountability.' Certainly, the back-and-forth suggests that PBS executives are not exactly crawling through the mud in defense of independent filmmaking. When the network's president and CEO, Paula Kerger, was asked at the DOGE subcommittee hearing to defend PBS's other trans-themed documentaries, she gave a tepid, practiced answer: 'These are documentary films that are point-of-view pieces that are part of our primetime schedule for adults.' Of course, she could have said the same about POV and Break the Game: The series is literally named point of view, and the film's original broadcast slot had been set for 10 p.m., during the prime-time schedule for adults. The fact that the network still chose to disappear Wagner's movie—and then to re-appear it later on, still without an explanation—suggests that the institution is at sea. Self-censorship may be easy to undo, but it's also easy to avoid in the first place. PBS seems to have created this scenario of its own accord, and now it's showing that it doesn't even have the courage of its lack of convictions. 'I never would have described myself as a political filmmaker, or as a social-justice filmmaker, or even as a journalistic filmmaker,' Wagner told me. Indeed, PBS's decision to withhold Break the Game appears to be a function of its timing: The original April 7 airdate would have come a bit too soon after the DOGE subcommittee hearing. A few of the documentary films that have already aired during the current season of POV, before Trump's second inauguration, are explicitly left wing. Twice Colonized, which was broadcast last October, tells the story of an Indigenous-rights activist from Greenland (of all places) who, according to the synopsis, 'works to bring her colonizers to justice.' That film's discussion guide, which remains available on invites viewers of the film to think about how they understand the terms cultural erasure, institutional racism, and mental colonization. Another film on the current slate, Who I Am Not, which premiered in December, tells the story of an intersex South African beauty queen and an intersex activist. Break the Game is neutral by comparison: It neither depicts activism nor advances an ideological position. POV's producers pitched the film as 'a sharp, compassionate exploration about the darker side of online gamer culture' in a draft press release. The film tells the story of Narcissa Wright, a virtuosic gamer and habitual livestreamer known for her record-setting speedruns of The Legend of Zelda and other games, who lost a major portion of her online fan base after she came out as trans. At first, Wagner figured that she'd capture Wright's attempt to win back fans by setting a new speedrun record: The film would be 'the Rocky of the digital world,' Wagner said. She thought it was going to end with Wright at a gaming convention, getting 'a standing ovation and being accepted.' But the finished product—which comprises mostly animated sequences and footage from Wright's webcam—has less to do with a famous gamer's comeback (which doesn't really materialize) than with her relentless, sometimes self-destructive push to find connection online. Wright's experience as a trans woman provides the central context for the film, but it isn't quite its subject matter. [Adam Serwer: The attack on trans rights won't end there] 'The movie is kind of two movies,' Alex Eastly, another gamer who appears in the film, told me. The first movie is about Wright's relationship with her mother, Eastly said: 'That's the emotional core of the film.' The other movie, she said, 'is about how trans people become a lightning rod for a lot of displaced frustration with the world at large.' (Wagner plans to stream the film on Twitch on Monday night.) Eastly told me that she wasn't surprised when she learned that the film had been bumped for political reasons. 'This isn't an issue specific to PBS. This is society-wide,' she told me. Wagner said that although she's not a political filmmaker, 'I still believe in speaking truth to power.' What had happened, she said, left her feeling 'existential devastation.' The episode calls to mind a similar controversy from more than 30 years ago involving PBS and POV, when a documentary short called Stop the Church was abruptly dropped from the network's programming two weeks before its scheduled broadcast in the summer of 1991. The film was about a raucous demonstration at St. Patrick's Cathedral in New York City, where more than 100 people were arrested for protesting Cardinal John O'Connor's positions on abortion and the AIDS crisis. PBS executives decided that airing the documentary, which took a mocking tone toward the Catholic Church, would be overly provocative, given that another POV film—Tongues Untied, about the lives of Black gay men—had produced a controversy of its own just the month before and had gotten dropped from the schedules of some member stations. PBS executives had stood behind that film, even as it was cited on the floor of Congress as evidence of the network's political agenda. But standing up for Stop the Church wasn't worth the risk, they thought, of incurring yet another rhubarb over taxpayer-funded programming and more public pressure on local stations. They told POV that they wouldn't air the film, Marc Weiss, the creator of the series and its executive producer from 1986 to 1997, told me. POV had little chance of fighting back, as far as he could tell, and doing so would have been unwise: A second scandal in a row could easily have led to the series' cancellation. 'It was a calculation, and I'm not proud of it,' he said. Whatever outrage that decision fostered was soon forgotten, as POV and PBS were celebrated for their courage in defending Tongues Untied. But contemporary critics such as Arthur Kropp, the president in 1991 of the progressive advocacy group People for the American Way, did see the dustup as a portent way back then. 'This is the kind of censorship you can't fight—self-censorship,' Kropp, who would die from AIDS a few years later, said in an interview with the Los Angeles Times. 'This is the first indication of where we're heading.' Article originally published at The Atlantic
Atlantic
18-04-2025
- Entertainment
- Atlantic
PBS Pulled a Film for Political Reasons, Then Changed Its Mind
On March 25, the veteran film producer Erika Dilday spoke at a documentary conference in Copenhagen, on a panel addressing the many challenges, political and otherwise, that now face nonfiction-film distribution. 'Even though it's terrifying, it's also incredibly energizing,' Dilday, the executive director of the nonprofit that produces PBS's long-running, Emmy-winning series POV, told the audience. 'I'm ready to paint my face, tie a band around my head, and crawl through the mud to try to save our ability to show independent content on public media.' In the background, though, the fight was not going well. Since Donald Trump returned to the White House in January, public media has been under heavy threat from legislators and the administration; plans are in the works for Congress to claw back $1.1 billion in federal funds from the Corporation for Public Broadcasting. At a House DOGE subcommittee hearing the day after Dilday spoke in Copenhagen, the chair, Marjorie Taylor Greene, accused PBS of 'brainwashing and trans-ing' America's children. Dilday herself had already seen how the situation was playing out on TV schedules. At the end of February, she'd heard from PBS that the release of Break the Game, a film from POV 's current slate about a trans video gamer's relationship with fame and her fans, would be postponed indefinitely. By all appearances, the network was obeying in advance. (The Atlantic has a partnership with WETA, which receives funding from PBS and the Corporation for Public Broadcasting.) Dilday passed along that news to the film's director, Jane Wagner, in a February 24 phone call, Wagner told me. She said that the call included Chris White, an executive producer at POV and American Documentary, the nonprofit that Dilday leads. The film would not be shown as planned on April 7, they explained, because executives at PBS were worried about Break the Game 's transgender themes and the risk of further political backlash. 'PBS is our platform, and we have to respect their directive,' Wagner says White told her. (Neither Dilday nor White responded to multiple requests for comment on this story.) Two days later, Dilday sent Wagner an email that confirmed the details of their phone call, including PBS's concerns about political backlash. 'I am so sorry about this,' she wrote. Mark Leibovich: It's not easy being (Marjorie Taylor) Greene At some point in the days that followed, the webpage for the film on was taken down, along with an associated reading guide. On April 7, PBS rebroadcast a 2022 film about a man with disabilities in what had been Break the Game 's original slot. Wagner was devastated. She'd spent six years making the documentary, and paid for most of its production on her own. The network's decision to abandon it didn't even make sense to her on its own terms. 'The administration is going to come for public broadcasting because they reject the notion of public broadcasting in general,' she told me when we spoke last week. 'It doesn't matter what you show.' In any case, PBS quickly changed its mind last Friday afternoon, around the time that I reached out for comment on the film's withdrawal. Less than two hours after I'd emailed the network, Wagner received a message from White at POV: 'Wanted to let you know that PBS has just come back to us with a confirmed Break the Game airdate of June 30,' he wrote. A network spokesperson eventually shared the same news with me directly: ''Break the Game' is part of POV 's summer season line-up, and it will air in June,' she wrote in an email sent on Tuesday morning, adding in a follow-up that 'a slot for this program had been identified in June to commemorate Pride Month.' PBS did not respond to questions about why Break the Game 's original airdate had been canceled, or why the new one had been assigned so quickly after I'd requested comment. 'It's not hard to connect the dots here,' Wagner told me. It was 'painfully clear,' she said, that PBS had switched positions on the film in an effort to 'avoid public scrutiny and accountability.' Certainly, the back-and-forth suggests that PBS executives are not exactly crawling through the mud in defense of independent filmmaking. When the network's president and CEO, Paula Kerger, was asked at the DOGE subcommittee hearing to defend PBS's other trans-themed documentaries, she gave a tepid, practiced answer: 'These are documentary films that are point-of-view pieces that are part of our primetime schedule for adults.' Of course, she could have said the same about POV and Break the Game: The series is literally named point of view, and the film's original broadcast slot had been set for 10 p.m., during the prime-time schedule for adults. The fact that the network still chose to disappear Wagner's movie—and then to re-appear it later on, still without an explanation—suggests that the institution is at sea. Self-censorship may be easy to undo, but it's also easy to avoid in the first place. PBS seems to have created this scenario of its own accord, and now it's showing that it doesn't even have the courage of its lack of convictions. 'I never would have described myself as a political filmmaker, or as a social-justice filmmaker, or even as a journalistic filmmaker,' Wagner told me. Indeed, PBS's decision to withhold Break the Game appears to be a function of its timing: The original April 7 airdate would have come a bit too soon after the DOGE subcommittee hearing. A few of the documentary films that have already aired during the current season of POV, before Trump's second inauguration, are explicitly left wing. Twice Colonized, which was broadcast last October, tells the story of an Indigenous-rights activist from Greenland (of all places) who, according to the synopsis, 'works to bring her colonizers to justice.' That film's discussion guide, which remains available on invites viewers of the film to think about how they understand the terms cultural erasure, institutional racism, and mental colonization. Another film on the current slate, Who I Am Not, which premiered in December, tells the story of an intersex South African beauty queen and an intersex activist. Break the Game is neutral by comparison: It neither depicts activism nor advances an ideological position. POV 's producers pitched the film as 'a sharp, compassionate exploration about the darker side of online gamer culture' in a draft press release. The film tells the story of Narcissa Wright, a virtuosic gamer and habitual livestreamer known for her record-setting speedruns of The Legend of Zelda and other games, who lost a major portion of her online fan base after she came out as trans. At first, Wagner figured that she'd capture Wright's attempt to win back fans by setting a new speedrun record: The film would be 'the Rocky of the digital world,' Wagner said. She thought it was going to end with Wright at a gaming convention, getting 'a standing ovation and being accepted.' But the finished product—which comprises mostly animated sequences and footage from Wright's webcam—has less to do with a famous gamer's comeback (which doesn't really materialize) than with her relentless, sometimes self-destructive push to find connection online. Wright's experience as a trans woman provides the central context for the film, but it isn't quite its subject matter. Adam Serwer: The attack on trans rights won't end there 'The movie is kind of two movies,' Alex Eastly, another gamer who appears in the film, told me. The first movie is about Wright's relationship with her mother, Eastly said: 'That's the emotional core of the film.' The other movie, she said, 'is about how trans people become a lightning rod for a lot of displaced frustration with the world at large.' (Wagner plans to stream the film on Twitch on Monday night.) Eastly told me that she wasn't surprised when she learned that the film had been bumped for political reasons. 'This isn't an issue specific to PBS. This is society-wide,' she told me. Wagner said that although she's not a political filmmaker, 'I still believe in speaking truth to power.' What had happened, she said, left her feeling 'existential devastation.' The episode calls to mind a similar controversy from more than 30 years ago involving PBS and POV, when a documentary short called Stop the Church was abruptly dropped from the network's programming two weeks before its scheduled broadcast in the summer of 1991. The film was about a raucous demonstration at St. Patrick's Cathedral in New York City, where more than 100 people were arrested for protesting Cardinal John O'Connor's positions on abortion and the AIDS crisis. PBS executives decided that airing the documentary, which took a mocking tone toward the Catholic Church, would be overly provocative, given that another POV film— Tongues Untied, about the lives of Black gay men—had produced a controversy of its own just the month before and had gotten dropped from the schedules of some member stations. PBS executives had stood behind that film, even as it was cited on the floor of Congress as evidence of the network's political agenda. But standing up for Stop the Church wasn't worth the risk, they thought, of incurring yet another rhubarb over taxpayer-funded programming and more public pressure on local stations. They told POV that they wouldn't air the film, Marc Weiss, the creator of the series and its executive producer from 1986 to 1997, told me. POV had little chance of fighting back, as far as he could tell, and doing so would have been unwise: A second scandal in a row could easily have led to the series' cancellation. 'It was a calculation, and I'm not proud of it,' he said. Whatever outrage that decision fostered was soon forgotten, as POV and PBS were celebrated for their courage in defending Tongues Untied. But contemporary critics such as Arthur Kropp, the president in 1991 of the progressive advocacy group People for the American Way, did see the dustup as a portent way back then. 'This is the kind of censorship you can't fight—self-censorship,' Kropp, who would die from AIDS a few years later, said in an interview with the Los Angeles Times. 'This is the first indication of where we're heading.'
