Latest news with #Motherboard
The Guardian
2 days ago
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
‘Mum, I can't think straight any more': the mother who filmed her son's entire childhood
There's a scene in the documentary Motherboard in which life as a lone parent is very much going off the rails. While film-maker Victoria Mapplebeck is having treatment for breast cancer, her 14-year-old son Jim is partying hard and refusing to do his homework. After a huge row, he storms out. His mother recorded their subsequent phone call. 'When he said he couldn't wait to be old enough to move out, that was like a dagger through the heart,' she says. 'That cancer year was when life's difficult stuff was happening and I was filming the process all at the same time.' The Guardian's journalism is independent. We will earn a commission if you buy something through an affiliate link. Learn more. Back in 2004, when Mapplebeck found herself pregnant after a short romance with a man who wasn't keen on being a father, she was all too aware of the Cyril Connolly quote about there being no more sombre enemy of good art than the pram in the hall. 'So I trained my camera on that pram in order to find a way to combine life as a film-maker and a mother,' she says. Filmed over 20 years on a succession of phones, Motherboard is a doc that comes with equal amounts of jeopardy, trauma and humour. We first meet Jim as a foetus on an ultrasound screen, giving his mum-to-be the thumbs up. Over the following 90 minutes we see him grow into a warm-hearted young man with a gift for comedy. As a longitudinal project, the film has been compared to Michael Apted's influential 1964 TV series Seven Up!, which followed the same 14 children over the years to see how their lives changed. It has also been likened to Richard Linklater's 2014 coming-of-age feature Boyhood, made over 12 years with the same actors. But where those films were made by invisible directors seamlessly stitching together a narrative, Motherboard puts Mapplebeck centre frame with Jim, and shows her toggling between being a parent and a film-maker. Mapplebeck was a 38-year-old freelance TV director when she became pregnant. As this was hardly the most financially stable of jobs, she moved into teaching when she realised she would be bringing up a baby up on her own. As an innovator who had made the first C4 webcam series, Smart Hearts, back in 1999, her experience with virtual reality, self-shooting and using iPhones as cameras led to her becoming professor of digital media at Royal Holloway, University of London. Realising she missed film-making, Mapplebeck made the 2015 short 160 Characters, about the relationship that had led to Jim's conception, using old text messages found on her redundant Nokia phone. 160 Characters was followed by another short, Missed Call, about Jim's wish when he was 13 to meet his absent father. That film won a Bafta in 2019, but footage of the two of them going up on stage to collect the award doesn't tell the whole story. Mapplebeck had been undergoing treatment for breast cancer and was worried she wouldn't live long enough to see Jim grow up. She had already started filming her year-long treatment as a VR project for the Guardian: 'I've always looked at painful experiences through a lens and on the whole it's helped. With cancer, you've got no control over it and you have to lean into that. It's not about whether you've got a positive attitude as to what your outcome is, it's in the lap of the gods. I wanted some sense of agency and decided to document this whole year of cancer treatment and explore its effect on family life.' Jim wasn't sure at first: 'Even if I was putting myself in her shoes, it still didn't make sense. But what I slowly learned was that for every person, therapy looks very different. And I realised that putting a camera in front of it was my mum's way of getting through it. I saw how positive it was for her, so then I was backing it.' Jim is now 21 and studying drama at university. He still lives in the south London flat his mother moved into before he was born. Closely involved with the film-making process throughout, he is credited as creative consultant on Motherboard. Talking alongside his mother, he remembers the 18-month edit: 'It was quite a funny time because I'd have my life and you'd have yours. And I'd come back home and it'd be pitch black; you'd just been so busy all the lights would be off except the illuminated screen. And you would go, 'Oh, could you watch this?' I was regularly watching cuts and giving feedback about what I did and didn't like. It was really cool.' Mapplebeck is at pains to stress the care taken to ensure that making the film didn't add to Jim's worries about the future: 'The bad stuff and the very difficult moments, they're not recorded live. And that was a very conscious decision. I didn't come back from the oncologist and say to Jim, 'OK, this is the diagnosis', with the camera in his face. All of that is off-camera. But then days, weeks later, we'd record a kind of recap. I always felt it was a myth that it's only going to be good if it's live and you're doorstepping. Having a bit of time to reflect made for really good material.' Jim comes through as a natural performer, whether singing his made-up songs as a charming toddler or acting in a school play. He admits: 'I like being the main character – as an actor that is nice. And I feel lucky we can talk honestly.' Not everything seen on screen was filmed by Mapplebeck. Snatches of Jim's life outside their flat – wading through muddy music festivals or partying with his friends – come from footage shot on his phone. Jim remembers: 'Mum would be like, 'Oh, could I get this?' And it was nice including a lot of my friends because they will always be a very big part of my life, especially those years.' Motherboard also weaves in telephone calls and texts between mother and son, even when their relationship is at its most fraught during the cancer treatment and Covid restriction years. At one point Jim texts: 'I can't think straight any more, this year needs to fuck off'. Unlike mom influencers with their 'sharenting' videos that stream their children's antics almost-live online – and too often without their consent – Mapplebeck makes it clear that there were lengthy negotiations between her and Jim: 'There were three years of showing Jim cuts. Asking, 'What do you think? How would you feel about using this?'' She would put the phone in selfie mode and film them talking side by side: 'You see us going back and forth about consent. There was the scene where Jim says, 'Nineteen minutes you've been recording. Nineteen minutes gone! You're a thief!'' They agree that the toughest discussions were about using that phone call, recorded after their biggest argument: 'You had stormed out and I didn't know where you were and you were supposed to be going to your grandma's and it was pre-vaccine. I was worried you'd infect her and you were screaming, 'Shut up, shut up!' It's so visceral. Both of us knew it was really powerful. You kept on saying to me, 'I think that people might hate me when they hear me talk to you like that.'' But at a test screening, Jim was reassured that the scene worked in the way that his mother intended: 'It was quite a rite of passage because I think Jim really felt the love in the room. And he realised that people have either been that teenager or they've been that parent – or both – and that everybody got it. Nobody was judgmental or down on him, and that was a real turning point. Jim said to me, 'You can't make a film about parenting unless you show the shit stuff.'' 'People can say I did the film to please my mum,' adds Jim, 'but there was no devil on my shoulder saying, 'Do this for her.' If I hadn't wanted to do the film, it wouldn't have happened.' Mapplebeck received guidance from OKRE (Opening Knowledge across Research and Entertainment) about protecting Jim, as well as legal advice on ensuring his father's anonymity on screen. 'I would not want internet sleuthery and I've never been interested in naming or shaming, or even being judgmental of his decisions. It was a real lightbulb moment for me when I thought, 'I don't want to try and get into his head.' 'I will never understand his own experiences and what led him to these decisions. The advice we've always had from lawyers and compliance people has been: 'Yes, you can tell your story. You've got a right to your truth, a truthful and honest account of how this situation affected you.'' A 2013 study found that 13% of fathers report having no contact with their non-resident children. Jim was 14 by the time he met his dad. They saw each other three times that year, and haven't met since. Jim expresses ambivalence about him: 'I don't hate him at all. Don't even dislike him. I just have a very neutral view, which is that he did what he did in his life. I've done what I've done in my life. I don't want him to watch the film and regret anything. We all make choices, and I think, yeah, he might someday think that wasn't the best choice, but I wouldn't want him to feel like he should regret anything he's done. I know I've got a dad out there, but I am very, very happy with my current family and there's no guarantee that I would be who I was if he was in my life.' Motherboard is in cinemas 15 August. This article was amended on 29 July 2025 to clarify that the 13% figure for fathers who reported having no contact with their children was in relation to circumstances where the children did not live with their fathers.
The Guardian
3 days ago
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
‘Mum, I can't think straight any more': the mother who filmed her son's entire childhood
There's a scene in the documentary Motherboard in which life as a lone parent is very much going off the rails. While film-maker Victoria Mapplebeck is having treatment for breast cancer, her 14-year-old son Jim is partying hard and refusing to do his homework. After a huge row, he storms out. His mother recorded their subsequent phone call. 'When he said he couldn't wait to be old enough to move out, that was like a dagger through the heart,' she says. 'That cancer year was when life's difficult stuff was happening and I was filming the process all at the same time.' The Guardian's journalism is independent. We will earn a commission if you buy something through an affiliate link. Learn more. Back in 2004, when Mapplebeck found herself pregnant after a short romance with a man who wasn't keen on being a father, she was all too aware of the Cyril Connolly quote about there being no more sombre enemy of good art than the pram in the hall. 'So I trained my camera on that pram in order to find a way to combine life as a film-maker and a mother,' she says. Filmed over 20 years on a succession of phones, Motherboard is a doc that comes with equal amounts of jeopardy, trauma and humour. We first meet Jim as a foetus on an ultrasound screen, giving his mum-to-be the thumbs up. Over the following 90 minutes we see him grow into a warm-hearted young man with a gift for comedy. As a longitudinal project, the film has been compared to Michael Apted's influential 1964 TV series Seven Up!, which followed the same 14 children over the years to see how their lives changed. It has also been likened to Richard Linklater's 2014 coming-of-age feature Boyhood, made over 12 years with the same actors. But where those films were made by invisible directors seamlessly stitching together a narrative, Motherboard puts Mapplebeck centre frame with Jim, and shows her toggling between being a parent and a film-maker. Mapplebeck was a 38-year-old freelance TV director when she became pregnant. As this was hardly the most financially stable of jobs, she moved into teaching when she realised she would be bringing up a baby up on her own. As an innovator who had made the first C4 webcam series, Smart Hearts, back in 1999, her experience with virtual reality, self-shooting and using iPhones as cameras led to her becoming professor of digital media at Royal Holloway, University of London. Realising she missed film-making, Mapplebeck made the 2015 short 160 Characters, about the relationship that had led to Jim's conception, using old text messages found on her redundant Nokia phone. 160 Characters was followed by another short, Missed Call, about Jim's wish when he was 13 to meet his absent father. That film won a Bafta in 2019, but footage of the two of them going up on stage to collect the award doesn't tell the whole story. Mapplebeck had been undergoing treatment for breast cancer and was worried she wouldn't live long enough to see Jim grow up. She had already started filming her year-long treatment as a VR project for the Guardian: 'I've always looked at painful experiences through a lens and on the whole it's helped. With cancer, you've got no control over it and you have to lean into that. It's not about whether you've got a positive attitude as to what your outcome is, it's in the lap of the gods. I wanted some sense of agency and decided to document this whole year of cancer treatment and explore its effect on family life.' Jim wasn't sure at first: 'Even if I was putting myself in her shoes, it still didn't make sense. But what I slowly learned was that for every person, therapy looks very different. And I realised that putting a camera in front of it was my mum's way of getting through it. I saw how positive it was for her, so then I was backing it.' Jim is now 21 and studying drama at university. He still lives in the south London flat his mother moved into before he was born. Closely involved with the film-making process throughout, he is credited as creative consultant on Motherboard. Talking alongside his mother, he remembers the 18-month edit: 'It was quite a funny time because I'd have my life and you'd have yours. And I'd come back home and it'd be pitch black; you'd just been so busy all the lights would be off except the illuminated screen. And you would go, 'Oh, could you watch this?' I was regularly watching cuts and giving feedback about what I did and didn't like. It was really cool.' Mapplebeck is at pains to stress the care taken to ensure that making the film didn't add to Jim's worries about the future: 'The bad stuff and the very difficult moments, they're not recorded live. And that was a very conscious decision. I didn't come back from the oncologist and say to Jim, 'OK, this is the diagnosis', with the camera in his face. All of that is off-camera. But then days, weeks later, we'd record a kind of recap. I always felt it was a myth that it's only going to be good if it's live and you're doorstepping. Having a bit of time to reflect made for really good material.' Jim comes through as a natural performer, whether singing his made-up songs as a charming toddler or acting in a school play. He admits: 'I like being the main character – as an actor that is nice. And I feel lucky we can talk honestly.' Not everything seen on screen was filmed by Mapplebeck. Snatches of Jim's life outside their flat – wading through muddy music festivals or partying with his friends – come from footage shot on his phone. Jim remembers: 'Mum would be like, 'Oh, could I get this?' And it was nice including a lot of my friends because they will always be a very big part of my life, especially those years.' Motherboard also weaves in telephone calls and texts between mother and son, even when their relationship is at its most fraught during the cancer treatment and Covid restriction years. At one point Jim texts: 'I can't think straight any more, this year needs to fuck off'. Unlike mom influencers with their 'sharenting' videos that stream their children's antics almost-live online – and too often without their consent – Mapplebeck makes it clear that there were lengthy negotiations between her and Jim: 'There were three years of showing Jim cuts. Asking, 'What do you think? How would you feel about using this?'' She would put the phone in selfie mode and film them talking side by side: 'You see us going back and forth about consent. There was the scene where Jim says, 'Nineteen minutes you've been recording. Nineteen minutes gone! You're a thief!'' They agree that the toughest discussions were about using that phone call, recorded after their biggest argument: 'You had stormed out and I didn't know where you were and you were supposed to be going to your grandma's and it was pre-vaccine. I was worried you'd infect her and you were screaming, 'Shut up, shut up!' It's so visceral. Both of us knew it was really powerful. You kept on saying to me, 'I think that people might hate me when they hear me talk to you like that.'' But at a test screening, Jim was reassured that the scene worked in the way that his mother intended: 'It was quite a rite of passage because I think Jim really felt the love in the room. And he realised that people have either been that teenager or they've been that parent – or both – and that everybody got it. Nobody was judgmental or down on him, and that was a real turning point. Jim said to me, 'You can't make a film about parenting unless you show the shit stuff.'' 'People can say I did the film to please my mum,' adds Jim, 'but there was no devil on my shoulder saying, 'Do this for her.' If I hadn't wanted to do the film, it wouldn't have happened.' Mapplebeck received guidance from OKRE (Opening Knowledge across Research and Entertainment) about protecting Jim, as well as legal advice on ensuring his father's anonymity on screen. 'I would not want internet sleuthery and I've never been interested in naming or shaming, or even being judgmental of his decisions. It was a real lightbulb moment for me when I thought, 'I don't want to try and get into his head.' 'I will never understand his own experiences and what led him to these decisions. The advice we've always had from lawyers and compliance people has been: 'Yes, you can tell your story. You've got a right to your truth, a truthful and honest account of how this situation affected you.'' A 2013 study found that 13% of fathers report having no contact with their children. Jim was 14 by the time he met his dad. They saw each other three times that year, and haven't met since. Jim expresses ambivalence about him: 'I don't hate him at all. Don't even dislike him. I just have a very neutral view, which is that he did what he did in his life. I've done what I've done in my life. I don't want him to watch the film and regret anything. We all make choices, and I think, yeah, he might someday think that wasn't the best choice, but I wouldn't want him to feel like he should regret anything he's done. I know I've got a dad out there, but I am very, very happy with my current family and there's no guarantee that I would be who I was if he was in my life.' Motherboard is at selected cinemas from 15 August
The National
7 days ago
- Entertainment
- The National
Female filmmakers festival to take place in Tiree
Taking place from September 19 until 21, Sea Change will showcase a selection of new films from women directors from across the globe in Tiree (more than 80 miles away from the nearest permanent cinema). A 1934 story documentary about crofting life in Shetland by pioneering Scottish filmmaker Jenny Gilbertson, The Rugged Isle: A [[Shetland]] Lyric, will opening the festival. Later screenings include Motherboard, BAFTA-winner Victoria Mapplebeck's look at solo motherhood shot over 20 years and six iPhones; Sister Midnight, Karan Kandhari's feminist punk black comedy set on the streets of Mumbai; and the Berlin Film Festival Audience Award winner Deaf (Sorda), a drama about a young Deaf woman and her hearing husband having a baby. READ MORE: Prestwick Airport gears up for Donald Trump arrival on Air Force One The film festival also invites audiences to experience sea swims, beach pilates and ceilidh dancing classes in between screenings. Orkney author Amy Liptrot will introduce a special screening of The Outrun, Shallow Grave star Kerry Fox will share some of her favourite collaborations with female directors including An Angel At My Table and Fanny and Elvis, and there will be a focus on Scottish women in animation. The festival will take place at venues across the island including An Talla, community hall, the 19th century Hynish Centre (originally built to house the workers building Skerryvore Lighthouse) and Screen Argyll's screening room in Crossapol. The Rugged Isle: A Shetland Lyric, a 1934 "story documentary" about crofting life by the Scottish filmmaker Jenny Gilbertson (Image: National Library of Scotland) In the week before the festival, Screen Argyll will host official Sea Change screenings of some classic films directed by women in Seil, Mull and Coll. Following on from the festival dates, Screen Argyll will be touring a programme of Vicki and Selina's animations to audiences across the Hebrides and Argyll, including showings in the world-famous Screen Machine mobile cinema. Ahead of the public festival opening, a host of leading female and non-binary film industry professionals will arrive in Tiree for a series of conversations around an ever-shifting industry. Highlights of the sessions include guests sharing their wisdom, with Kerry Fox delivering a masterclass on working with actors, Glasgow Film CEO Allison Gardner revealing her tips on getting your film in front of an audience and animator Selina Wagner talking about how she is developing her first feature film. READ MORE: New Glenfinnan bus service launches in bid to tackle viaduct overtourism They will be joined by talks and panels from top Scottish industry bodies including BECTU, the Scottish Documentary Institute and Animation Scotland. Sea Change's artistic director Jen Skinner, who lives full-time in Tiree where she runs Screen Argyll, said: 'We are so excited to share brilliant films and welcome wonderful people into our communities, for this year's Sea Change. "Tiree is the most westerly island in the inner Hebrides and the ideal place to ask what connects us? 'Everyone is welcome to join us for a weekend of films, workshops, family activities and special guests! Local venues open their doors to filmmakers, film students and film lovers of all ages as we come together to watch, talk, walk, swim, make and share.'
Forbes
03-06-2025
- General
- Forbes
How Busy Philipps And Vote Mama Are Making Motherhood Electable
Since its founding in 2019, Vote Mama has endorsed more than 600 candidates. Its newest initiative, the Motherboard, is a coalition that unites elected officials, creatives, and movement leaders to amplify the political power of moms through culture, media, and policy. Co-chaired by actor and activist Busy Philipps and Georgia Congresswoman Nikema Williams, the Motherboard brings together cultural influence and political leadership to elevate moms in public office. 'When a mom runs for office, it's usually because something's broken and she's ready to fix it,' explains Liuba Grechen Shirley, founder and CEO of Vote Mama. 'That urgency (that lived experience) cuts through the noise.' 'Right now, it is more expensive than ever to raise a family. The cost of childcare is more than a mortgage in almost every state, and fundamental rights have been on the chopping block. Moms are talking about the issues that matter most, and they're not sugarcoating it,' explains Shirley. What sets these candidates apart is their ability to turn everyday frustrations like finding affordable daycare, navigating public school systems and managing family health care into compelling campaign messages rooted in lived reality. 'We're seeing more moms run unapologetically as themselves. They're campaigning with babies in tow and putting childcare on the platform,' adds Shirley. Philipps states she supports the Motherboard because they aren't about performative allyship. 'I've marched, donated, and spoken out. But it still didn't feel like enough,' she said. 'This organization is an engine for amplifying the issues I care about: abortion rights, paid family leave, maternal health, gun safety and reform, and LGBTQ+ rights. We need real power. Political power. If my platform helps moms running for office get attention, resources, and into rooms they're often shut out of, then I'm doing my job.' This direct connection to family-centered policy resonates deeply with voters. 'People are exhausted and frustrated with performative politics,' Shirley said. 'They want leaders who prioritize action…. moms lead with urgency and empathy because they have to.' 'We launched the Motherboard ahead of Mother's Day to shake things up and to remind people that moms have always been at the frontlines of every major movement, from reproductive justice to gun violence prevention,' Shirley said. By elevating these stories on mainstream platforms, the Motherboard helps shift voter expectations about what leadership looks like, offering real-life, working-mom candidates as compelling, credible alternatives to the status quo. Other Cultural & Creative leaders for the Motherboard include celebrity moms such as Amanda Seyfried and Jodie Sweetin. Philipps explains, 'By harnessing voices that sit at the intersection of media, culture, and policy, we will bring more people into this movement to support pushing moms into power.' She adds that the vision is simple: to connect political power with cultural influence, bringing elected officials and creatives into the same room to build something bigger than politics so they can drive systemic change. As the only woman currently hosting a late-night talk show, Shirley believes Philipps brings both visibility and media savvy to the effort. 'When someone like Busy uses her voice to uplift a school board mama, it makes that mom and her vision become visible in a whole new way. When people see a state legislator like Virginia State Senator Jennifer Carroll Foy or New York Assemblywoman Jessica González-Rojas, it reshapes expectations of who's qualified to lead. That visibility changes perception, which drives engagement, donations, and ultimately, policy wins.' Philipps believes she brings defiance as well. 'Watching my daughters grow up in a country where their rights are being stripped away, a society that encourages them to shrink themselves, stay quiet, and sit down–I can't be passive in that world. I've built a career out of being unapologetic for taking up space. I want to use that energy to help other moms step into their power.' The Motherboard aims to turn storytelling into action. By increasing public awareness, driving donations and generating local enthusiasm, it plays a crucial role in moving the needle on who runs, who gets funded and who ultimately wins. Shirley says, 'We measure our wins not just in votes, but in whose stories are being told, who's stepping up to run next, and which policies are finally getting passed because we helped moms get the power to push them through.' 'For too long, moms have only been allowed to exist in one of two narratives: either we're perfect and self-sacrificing, or we're messy, selfish, and self-centered,' Philipps said. 'Real moms are complex. They're breastfeeding during briefings. Negotiating budgets before bedtime stories. Writing policy between school pick-ups and making dinner. The Motherboard is how we bust through closed doors, shake up the status quo, and give a loud, unapologetic voice to the people who've been told to wait their turn.' Shirley says the Vote Mama PAC has endorsed nearly 70 candidates so far for 2025 and 2026. But as Election Day approaches, the Motherboard will play a key role in mobilizing voters, generating buzz and redirecting resources toward competitive races. Shirley has a clear vision for what success looks like. 'Electing more moms to local offices like city councils and school boards, where real change for families happens. We're building long-term infrastructure to change the face of leadership at every level.' She wants this moment to be remembered as the turning point when moms stopped asking for a seat at the table and started taking the power to build a new one. Philipps agrees. 'Look, awareness is the first step. It's the foundation for getting people engaged and involved. The next step is building the actual scaffolding that holds moms up politically.' She envisions a future where no mother feels forced to choose between her family and her ambition. 'Fundraising, mentorship, infrastructure, community… all of it,' she said. 'I want to help create a world where any mom can run for office without feeling like she's drowning under the weight of balancing motherhood and her political ambitions.' To the working moms watching from the sidelines, those who may not see themselves as political but want to create change, Shirley has a clear message: you are political. 'If you're figuring out how to pay for daycare, fighting to keep your kids safe in school, or caring for a sick parent, you're already navigating policy every day,' she says. 'You don't need to be a policy expert. You just need the courage to lead and a commitment to your community.' Philipps concludes, 'The reality is that most moms grow into their power because they became mothers. We need more stories to show how the chaos, care, and urgency of motherhood made them more empathetic, more determined, and more strategic. We need stories that normalize that narrative. Because storytelling is how we build representation, and that is how we change everything.'
Daily Record
01-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Daily Record
People baffled by 'time travel' painting that appears to show woman using iPhone
The 150 year-old painting was shared online with people saying it looks like a woman in the 1860s is using a smartphone - but there's a more obvious explanation. A 150-year-old old painting has sparked interest among art lovers, as its central figure appears to be engrossed in an iPhone. The painting of a young woman strolling along a country path, seemingly fascinated by the alleged device, is part of The Expected One - a piece painted by Ferdinand George Waldmüller in the 1860s. The oil painting portrays a man crouching in the shadows with a flower, while the lady walks towards him, completely captivated by what she's holding. While this might seem like a typical scene from that era, contemporary observers have humorously suggested that the artwork is a product of time-travel, with the artist having gained knowledge of future technology. However, those entertaining this theory may be disappointed to learn that experts have provided a more plausible explanation, according to the Mirror. The painting first gained online popularity over eight years ago when it was displayed at the Neue Pinakothek Museum in Munich, Germany. Back in 2017, some joked that the woman was snubbing the man because she was likely swiping on Tinder. However, it was later revealed that the image actually depicts the woman deeply engrossed in her hymn book, her devotion to God surpassing any interest in the mortal man and his worldly desires. This slightly disappointing revelation comes directly from the gallery and will undoubtedly surprise those who were convinced the painting showed proof of time travel. In an interview with Motherboard, Peter Russell, the individual who initially observed the subject's resemblance to scrolling through Instagram, he noted that changing technologies have shaped modern takes on historic works of art. Peter said: "What strikes me most is how much a change in technology has [changed] the interpretation of the painting, and in a way has leveraged its entire context." He added: "The big change is that in 1850 or 1860, every single viewer would have identified the item that the girl is absorbed in as a hymnal or prayer book. "Today, no one could fail to see the resemblance to the scene of a teenage girl absorbed in social media on their smartphone."
