Alone and engulfed in the darkness of a Madrid cinema, Javier Bardem watched Martin Scorsese’s 1991 psychological thriller “Cape Fear” after learning he’d be starring in an episodic reimagining of the crime saga for Apple TV — the series finale is now streaming.
He arranged the private screening to symbolically request Robert De Niro’s blessing to play the dangerously charismatic Max Cady, an ex-con parched for revenge against those who had a hand in his imprisonment. De Niro received an Oscar nomination for that role.
“It was my way of honoring the work he did back then and, at the same time, to detach myself from that performance and ask his permission to create my own take,” Bardem tells me in Spanish while sitting at a restaurant inside a Beverly Hills hotel.
His informal getup, a T-shirt and shorts, contrasts with the elegant environment primed for business lunches and ostentatious dinners. He exudes an easy-going air. A quintessential cool dad casually sipping on an iced Diet Coke as he shares anecdotes about his passion for acting.
Bardem, 57, agreed to play Cady because the version of the character that the show’s creator, Nick Antosca, envisioned was not only decidedly distinct from those embodied by De Niro and Robert Mitchum, the latter of whom starred in a 1962 film adaptation, but also tailored to him as a Spanish man.
Had it been a standard remake, Bardem would have passed. Still, like the films, the show also “drinks from the fountain” of John D. MacDonald’s 1957 novel “The Executioners.” What remains intact across all versions of Cady is a devilish sense of humor and a lack of self-importance. In any of his iterations, he has nothing to lose. That makes him lethal.
In “Cape Fear,” Bardem’s Max Cady is distinct from the versions of the character played by Robert De Niro and Robert Mitchum in earlier films.
(Apple)
The cerebral Cady that Bardem inhabits spent nearly two decades in prison convicted for his wife’s murder. When the discovery of new evidence results in Cady’s freedom, his new mission is to torment Anna (Amy Adams) and Tom Bowden (Patrick Wilson), the attorney and prosecutor on his case, who are now married and have two teenaged children.
Cady turns their lives into a trap of paranoia and, indeed, fear, while procuring plausible deniability to avoid consequences. It’s a malicious and relentless barrage of the mind.
“He’s a 2026 Max Cady. It’s a different way of approaching violation of privacy, and the intrusion of the characters’ psyches. The digital world has made everything very different now,” he explains. “We are hyper-aware of what is said and written about us. We are inundated with so much information that, at times, we can’t tell what is true and what is false.”
While in the 1991 film the audience is aware that De Niro’s Cady committed sexual crimes making him “an absolutely despicable character,” Bardem says this new version portrays a complex person who’s suffered at the hands of the American justice system.
“Here we understand that he was imprisoned for something he didn’t do. He may have done other things, but he says, ‘You turned me into this monster.’ It’s true. From that point on, a vengeful and destructive mindset developed,” Bardem says of his Cady.
The final episode shows the public unmasking of Cady, just before he learns he is responsible for his own son’s death. Bardem describes him as a “dying beast” who has lost control of the narrative that he so meticulously orchestrated to rebuild his image.
The character was written to account for the actor’s Spanish accent. This Cady grew up in Spain until he moved to North Carolina at 13 and learned English on the streets. Bardem worked with renowned dialect coach Tim Monich to infuse his speech with a hint of a Southern drawl, aware that his character didn’t have to sound like a native speaker.
“I’m not bilingual,” Bardem says. The statement is somewhat shocking, considering he’s worked in the U.S. for decades in numerous English-language productions.
“Acting in English is easier for me because the dialogue is set,” he says. “But when the time comes to improvise, I find it difficult. That still doesn’t come naturally to me in English.”
The Spanish actor says acting in English is easier for him but that improvising is more challenging.
(Erik Carter / For The Times)
There’s a freedom to working in English since words have less emotional significance, the Oscar-winner believes. “I can be more daring in English. I can say the words or verbalize the thoughts with much less inhibition, because I am not as emotionally attached,” he explains. “But when you speak in your mother tongue, your body tenses up a bit because you think, ‘I understand the full emotional spectrum of what I’m talking about.’ ”
At this stage in his lauded career, Bardem is interested only in roles that explore “contradictions with an underlying humanity.” He’s played one-dimensional parts in the past, but the cost of being away from his loved ones is too high.
The job has to measure up to the trade-off of precious time he’s surrendering.
The “Cape Fear” production structured the schedule for Bardem to work for two weeks followed by five or six days off, allowing him to travel back to his family, which includes his famous and just as in-demand wife, Penélope Cruz, and their two teenaged children, Leo, 15, and Luna, 13.
“Cape Fear” filmed in Atlanta and Savannah, Ga. That’s a long trip back to Spain but manageable and certainly worthwhile, he says. “One of the few things I ask for contractually is time with family, and that has always been respected; Penélope and I have always managed our projects in such a way that one of us is always present for our kids.”
Thanks to his award-winning turn as an unnerving killer in “No Country for Old Man” and the dapper cyberterrorist in “Skyfall,” audiences might associate Bardem with sinister characters (his Cady joins the ranks). And they are satisfying to portray, he says.
“It’s true that characters with that kind of darkness are very attractive to play,” he says. “The villain is always more compelling than the hero. The hero is perfectly upright. A good villain has many cracks, which is what makes him more human.”
Bardem on playing sinister characters like Max Cady: “The villain is always more compelling than the hero. The hero is perfectly upright. A good villain has many cracks, which is what makes him more human.”
(Apple)
In recent years, however, Bardem made a deliberate effort to work on projects that his children could watch, particularly when they were younger, namely the fantasy musical “Lyle, Lyle, Crocodile” and the live-action remake of “The Little Mermaid,” in which he played King Triton.
“I needed my children to see what I do,” he says. “They knew I’d leave home for two weeks and then come back, and I’d tell them about it and show them photos, but they hadn’t been able to watch any of my movies yet because they were geared more toward adults.”
Cruz and Bardem have always encouraged their children’s creative pursuits. It wouldn’t surprise them if they eventually pursue a life in the arts. “I don’t see them becoming scientists or lawyers, which makes sense. I don’t know if they will become ‘nepo babies’ or not, but we are conscious that children always feed on what their parents do,” Bardem says.
Every time either Bardem or Cruz gets an offer for a new role, the couple discuss it and then bring their kids into the conversation. It’s important, Bardem believes, that Leo and Luna know how fulfilling acting is for both of their parents.
“They know we feel immense gratitude for being able to make a living from our passion. And they understand that the way we try to live up to that gift is by doing our absolute best and giving it the full attention it deserves,” he says.
When they were younger, the kids weren’t interested in seeing their parents on screen, but that’s changed. “They have seen ‘The Invite’ three times. They love it. And they’ve watched ‘Volver’ and ‘Bandidas,’” he says. “They’ve watched me in ‘F1,’ and Leo is watching ‘Cape Fear.’ ”
In June, Bardem became part of Hollywood history when his hands and footprints were added to the entrance of TCL Chinese Theatre. The ceremony included directors Michael Mann and Denis Villeneuve and producer Jerry Bruckheimer.
“I missed my mother so much at that moment because there are so many footprints of classic actors and actresses there. I imagine my mother seeing my hands and feet next to Gary Cooper, who was one of the loves of her life,” he says.
In June, Bardem’s hands and footprints were added to the entrance of TCL Chinese Theatre: “I missed my mother so much at that moment because there are so many footprints of classic actors and actresses there.”
(Erik Carter / For The Times)
It felt surreal, Bardem says, to have Mann present at the event. They worked together on “Collateral” over two decades ago. “I was crazy about ‘Miami Vice’ in the ’80s,” Bardem says. The suit he wore in the photo shoot for this piece, he adds, reminded him of that emblematic series and film.
Bardem’s latest collaboration with Villeneuve, “Dune: Part Three” hits theaters in December. He recalls the joy of shooting the film’s opening sequence, a battle where the cast was covered in mud. It reminded him of childhood play. “Denis would laugh and say to me, ‘But why are you laughing?’ And I’d say, ‘This is what I used to do in the schoolyard, but now it’s for real. Now I look to my right, and I have 50 guys under my command,’ ” he says.
“I was lucky enough to shoot some scenes with Timothée [Chalamet]. I saw him playing a Paul who is very different from the Paul in the second film,” Bardem continues. “Years have passed, and Paul is now wielding power and is a victim of that power.”
Outspoken about the ongoing plight of Palestinians, Bardem wishes more people could apply the lessons they mine from fiction they consume to the world in turmoil.
“We root for the rebels in ‘Star Wars’ and want them to defeat Darth Vader, or we side with the Fremen in ‘Dune.’ We always take sides in fiction. Yet, when we witness oppression, abuse and the violation of the most fundamental rights by an oppressor in real life, we seem to struggle to stand with the oppressed,” Bardem explains. “That cannot be.”
Even while attending matches at the recent World Cup, where Spain won the title, the actor advocated for an end to the carnage. A viral video shows him engaging with a Palestinian man at a match. “Existence is resistance,” Bardem tells him. On social media he’s shared images of Lamine Yamal, one of his national team’s stars, waving the Palestinian flag.
“The impunity Israel enjoys regarding these crimes, both legally and in terms of international support, creates a profound sense of powerlessness,” he says.
Bardem admits he’s been asked, whether directly or indirectly, to tone down his vocal support. But he doesn’t fear backlash. On the contrary, he’s never felt more support from everyday people who share his mindset.
“If I’m so privileged to have a good life where I work doing what I love and can provide my family with stability and security, how could I not use that privilege to denounce those things that I think are wrong?”
Jared Leto faces allegations of criminal sexual conduct by several women who allege the sexual incidents with the musician and Oscar-winning actor occurred when he was in his 30s and 40s and they were teenagers.
In a BBC documentary titled “Jared Leto: Hollywood’s Dark Secret,” multiple women spoke about their experiences with the “House of Gucci” star and Thirty Seconds to Mars frontman, detailing allegations of inappropriate text messages, sexual assault and statutory rape from 2002 to 2016. Among the allegations, one woman said she was 17 years old when Leto sexually assaulted her in a motel bathroom. Another woman alleges Leto continued to sexually pursue her in Los Angeles despite knowing she was 17 years old, younger than the age of consent in California.
Leto, in a statement shared with The Times on Wednesday, denied the allegations raised by the BBC documentary: “I have never sexually assaulted anyone in my entire life,” he said. “These claims are absolutely and categorically false.”
Journalist and documentarian Jessica Sartenaer said in the segment published Wednesday that the BBC began its investigation into allegations against Leto after noting an Instagram story from a prominent DJ based in Los Angeles. In a since-expired Instagram story, DJ Allie Teilz, resurfaced a 2012 Facebook post in which she accused Leto of trying to “force himself” onto her backstage at a concert. Teilz captioned her repost: “Jared Leto was a creep then..still a creep now, going on 15+ years of being Hollywood’s most persistent predator,” according to the BBC documentary.
Numerous social media users reportedly responded to Teilz’s posts with their own claims about Leto’s alleged predatory behavior, many noting they were subject to Leto’s misconduct when they were teens. A woman identified as “Etta” told the BBC she was 14 when Leto approached her outside of a modeling agency and invited her to an Oscars party. Etta provided email correspondences to the outlet and said the “Morbius” actor encouraged her to stay in contact via text after the invite. Text messages turned into phone calls and conversations about her modeling career quickly turned sexual, according to the documentary. Leto allegedly asked Etta about her virginity, her kinks and sexual capabilities.
Etta said in the documentary that Leto’s legal team allegedly contacted her and urged her to sign a nondisclosure agreement about her relationship with the actor, though she never did.
The documentary portrays Leto as a celebrity who leveraged his fame to connect with young fans and control them. The woman who alleged she was sexually assaulted by Leto at age 17 in a motel bathroom told the BBC she met Leto in 2002 at a mall in Las Vegas. Leto would have been in his early 30s at the time. He invited her to meet him at a nearby motel. She waited in the room while he stepped into the shower, but he eventually called her over and began kissing her, according to the BBC. The woman, identified as “Isabelle,” accused Leto of forcing her hand to his genitals and using her hand to masturbate. Isabelle pulled away and moved to leave the room, but Leto allegedly looked outside the motel room for any potential bystanders before letting her out, she recalled to the BBC.
The BBC also published allegations by “Clara,” the woman who said Leto knowingly had sex with her when she was 17 — he was 34 at the time — at his house in California. Clara said she connected with Leto after his associate requested her phone number. She and her friend were invited to spend time with the band at the Chateau Marmont in Hollywood, where the age of consent of California became a topic of conversation. Leto, who allegedly shrugged off the conversation, invited Clara and her friend back to his home and told the friend to wait in another room while he had sex with Clara. Clara visited Leto’s home a total of three or four times, according to the BBC. She also alleged that Leto often requested that she call him “daddy” and that she pretend to be a little girl.
Leto in 2013 allegedly invited another woman, named Alex, to his band’s concert at London’s O2 and to an after-party. She was 19 at the time but told Leto she was younger out of a need to protect herself, the BBC reported. Leto allegedly replied: “Age is just a number, and anyway, we’re in Europe.” Alex alleges Leto threatened to sexually assault her in a hotel room later that evening.
The BBC also spoke to men who who worked closely with Leto’s band, Thirty Seconds to Mars. One man said Leto was often texting girls to invite them to spend time with the band. Leto also allegedly asserted control by ignoring the girls he invited and speaking to them rudely. The man also recalled that Leto took one fan, who was dropped off by her parents, “off to the bedroom.” Afterward, she called her parents to pick her up.
Leto has long faced quiet scrutiny for his alleged behavior with women and girls. In 2005 the New York Post published a story accusing the actor of “aggressively pursuing many” teen models. Last year Air Mail published accusations against Leto of impropriety by nine women, though he denied those claims at the time.
Still, the actor-musician has moved on from those allegations seemingly unscathed. Leto, who won his Oscar in 2014 for “Dallas Buyers Club,” most recently appeared in “Masters of the Universe” and is set to tour with his band next year.
Resources for survivors of sexual assault
If you or someone you know is the victim of sexual violence, you can find support using RAINN’s National Sexual Assault Hotline. Call (800) 656-HOPE or visit online.rainn.org to speak with a trained support specialist.
Twenty-five years after “Is This It,” the Strokes are as big as they’ve ever been — and not just among old heads eager to relive the wasted glamour of the early-2000s garage rock revival. Go to a Strokes gig these days — they’re playing arenas and headlining festivals like next month’s Just Like Heaven in Pasadena — and you’ll find teens and twentysomethings in the audience; open up Instagram and there’s frontman Julian Casablancas dispensing viral hot takes on the New York City subway. On Spotify, the band’s most-streamed song isn’t the Giuliani-era “Last Nite” but “The Adults Are Talking,” which came out at the beginning of the COVID-19 pandemic — a feat of cultural endurance unmatched by any of the Strokes’ Gen X or millennial peers.
So what better time to drop a new album full of arcane jokes, baffling vocal affects and light conspiracy theorizing?
The group’s first LP since 2020’s Grammy-winning “The New Abnormal,” “Reality Awaits” is easily the nuttiest entry in the Strokes’ catalog, with a spooky opening track, “Psycho S—,” in which Casablancas, his voice slathered in AutoTune, ushers the listener “past the hall of judging dead into the bed of nightly dread.” (Sexy!) “Falling Out of Love” is a lilting robo-country ballad about dancing alone under acid rain; “Liar’s Remorse” is a voice-and-guitar lament about submitting to artificial intelligence that Casablancas croons for some reason in a terrible Caribbean accent.
Then there’s “Lonely in the Future,” in which Casablancas name-drops John Legend and Josh Groban, appears to ding Harry Styles for cribbing the beat from the Strokes’ “Hard to Explain” and informs Anthony Fantano, the popular internet music critic, that he “would not recognize art in any age.”
Philosophically, “Reality Awaits” feels less like a Strokes album than like a Casablancas solo record or an effort by his other band, the Voidz, which he’s used for the last decade or so as a kind of finsta for his harder-edged sociopolitical musings. “Going Shopping,” the LP’s lead single, casts a condescending eye on anyone insufficiently troubled by what the singer views as the creeping tyranny of a super-rich ruling class: “The worse reality gets, the less you want to hear about it / Solidarity can be difficult when you got cool stuff to lose.” That “Going Shopping” is the album’s jauntiest cut — with a music video that restages Paul Simon’s “You Can Call Me Al,” no less — only sharpens the critique.
Yet every now and then the Strokes, who absolutely ripped at Coachella in April, lock into a groove with the springy precision that’s been the band’s signature since the beginning. “Dine N’ Dash,” “Going to Babble On,” “Lonely in the Future” — it’s pure pleasure to hear the guitars in these songs slashing away over a rhythm section as crisp and nimble as this one. For all they’ve absorbed from their forbears, the Strokes don’t sound like anybody else, even when they seem to be trying to, as in “The Fruits of Conquest,” which suggests early Maroon 5 having a go at the Rolling Stones’ “Miss You.” (Obviously, I mean this as a compliment.)
You can view the indelibility of the Strokes’ style as the reason the band makes so many wacky decisions on “Reality Awaits”; looked at differently, the band is taking advantage of its persistent success to spend a bit of creative capital. Either way, Casablancas doesn’t actually seem worried at all in “Going Shopping” when he voices some anxiety about how long he can continue to matter. “I’ve been thinking about what I want to say,” he sings, “But I’m an old man now — at least that’s what they tell me anyway.”
Last things first: Eve Babitz is a major minor L.A. writer who died five years ago at age 78. She spent nearly a quarter-century as a recluse, having suffered in 1997 a shocking and disfiguring accident while striking a match to light her Tiparillo. Her thin Indian skirt caught fire searing her panty hose into her flesh, leaving her with third-degree burns over more than half her body. She never published again, though many championed her gifts, including me. At the time of her misfortune, I was book editor of the Los Angeles Times. I had long admired her, especially the rollicking and indispensable “Slow Days, Fast Company,” first published in 1977, a charming and insightful series of stories bursting with pluck and sass. I recommended to John Carroll, the then-editor of the paper, that he make her a columnist and urged Babitz to write him directly. She did, and that letter from October 2000 is the last included in “Too L.A.: Letters Never Sent (But Some Were),” a book of letters expertly edited and chosen by Lili Anolik. Babitz tells Carroll that “what the paper needs is some writers that cause such an uproar, people will have to read it in order to stay abreast of the edge.” Babitz knew what she was talking about. She’d been living on that edge since she was a teenager at Hollywood High in the late 1950s.
Book Review
Too L.A.: Letters Never Sent But Some Were
By Eve Babitz; edited by Lili Anolik New York Review of Books: 448 pages, $19
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The posthumous resurrection of Babitz’s writings is most welcome. Yet there is a risk of overpraising her merits. She was an unabashed booster of the glossy L.A. that became synonymous with a rising creative elite whose élan and narcissism she found irresistible.
Lili Anolik makes the case in her perfervid introduction: “The letters are everything you could want” and often “profound” and “frequently brilliant, invariably amusing.” She says they deserve to be put on the short shelf next to Virginia Woolf’s imperishable “A Room of One’s Own” for they are “every bit as candid, every bit as lucid, every bit as brutal, every bit as delicate as Virginia Woolf’s celebrated manifesto.”
If only.
“Too L.A.: Letters Never Sent (But Some Were)” by Eve Babitz
(New York Review Books)
Regrettably, Anolik, who is almost singlehandedly responsible for Babitz’s literary exhumation, has so fallen in love with her subject as to almost blind her to Babitz’s defects, both with respect to her writing and to the life. With two previous books — “Hollywood’s Eve” (2019) and “Didion and Babitz” (2024) — prompted by Anolik’s riveting March 2014 Vanity Fair profile, Anolik has become Babitz’s greatest champion. Now with “Too L.A.,” a title taken from Babitz’s own over-oxygenated writing, she has gathered and edited a trove of letters. They brilliantly reveal Babitz’s eye for the deep shallow as well as explore the porous boundary between the largely self-inflicted injuries of her private life and the glittering sheen of her public persona. Babitz herself, on the strength of these 197 letters, only 30 of which she ever mailed, understood in a way Anolik doesn’t the limitations of her talents, even as she strives to slip the shackles of a mansplaining culture which at almost every turn tried to blunt her ambitions, both artistic and writerly, even as her editors and admirers sought (often with her ardent encouragement) to slip between her sheets.
Eve Babitz was born in 1943 to Hollywood neo-royalty. Her Brooklyn-born father, Sol, was first violinist for both the Los Angeles Philharmonic Symphony and then the 20th Century Fox Studio Orchestra. Sol would ultimately marry Lily Mae Laviolette, a beautiful Cajun Catholic shiksa willing to convert to Judaism. Eve’s godfather was Sol’s good friend Igor Stravinsky. When puberty burst upon her at age 14, Babitz’s blossoming made her a prime candidate for induction by the fast-track girls at Hollywood High who called themselves the Thunderbird Girls and cruised the Sunset Strip in their cool cars, looking for the main chance.
From left, Sol Babitz, Mae Babitz, Mirandi Babitz and author Eve Babitz gather at a launch party for her book “Slow Days, Fast Company” in 1977.
(Photograph by Paul Ruscha; courtesy of Mirandi Babitz / The Huntington Library)
At 20, Babitz posed nude playing chess with the fully clothed Marcel Duchamp to promote Duchamp’s retrospective exhibition at the Pasadena Art Museum. At the time, Babitz was having an affair with the museum’s 32-year-old married director, Walter Hopps, which perhaps explains Babitz’s reluctance to have her face photographed so as not to give the game away to Mrs. Hopps, who attended the opening. A month later, Babitz confides in an (unsent) letter: “Everything’s so fabulous for me now I can’t believe it. There’s nothing like two boyfriends to do it for you every time. There are such fabulous boys around and they take you out on dates and to movies and I feel just like a teenager. (I’m recapturing my lost youth.) I get to get dressed up and I flirt outrageously and put people on and I do things like look soulfully out the window and man it’s just too hoozie for words. … If only all of this could last forever — not that it will, but I can.”
She spent the rest of her life torn between the excitements of everyday life — cruising the hangouts du jour (Barney’s Beanery in the early 1960s where she met many of L.A.’s up-and-coming artists — Ed Kienholz, Billy Al Bengston, Laddie Dill, Peter Alexander, and the Ruscha brothers, Ed and Paul, both of whom she’d bed, Paul becoming an on-again, off-again boyfriend whose bisexuality made for a sometimes tenuous connection; and after seducing Jim Morrison before he became famous and later the Troubadour in the late 1960s which was a happy hunting ground — Steve Martin, Glenn Frey, Don Henley, J.D. Souther, Country Joe Mcdonald, Jackson Browne, to name only a few, and then Ports restaurant where she anchored a corner table) — and the seductions of drugs — uppers, acid (which she seemed to ingest with an alarming frequency), pot, of course, and then by the mid-1970s, tragically, an Everest of cocaine. She had entered what she aptly called the era of “squalid overboogie.”
Eve Babitz and her frequent companion Paul Ruscha celebrate the 1977 release of Babitz’s seminal “Slow Days, Fast Company.”
(Photograph courtesy of Mirandi Babitz / The Huntington Library)
The name-dropping is relentless and if, like me, you have an insatiable appetite for hoovering them up, this volume will not disappoint. Still, there are many pages of vapid jottings — “I cleaned the house, did the laundry, and vowed to quit smoking” — that suggest why Babitz was a failure as a novelist (see her dud “Sex and Rage”) and a superb writer of short stories and essays that stylishly plumbed the depths of her own sensibility precisely in the degree to which she was uninterested in other people.
Nearly 30 years after she stripped to please her married lover and startle the unsuspecting Duchamp, the father of Dada, and eight years after she joined AA in 1982 — the year her beloved father died of Huntington’s disease at age 70 which ultimately would also kill her — and gave up drugs and alcohol and (almost entirely) writing as well, which had always been seen by her as enabled by dope of one kind or another, she boasted that, looking back, “Everybody wanted to be me — they looked at me with yearning faces, and said, ‘Boy, you sure had fun.’ ” She was not entirely wrong. She had struck many admirers both then and now, as the quintessential California girl, a daughter of Dionysus, whose devotion to pleasure was free of misgiving or regret. She detested the East Coast avatars of apocalypse, like Nathanael West, who saw only doom and gloom in sunny L.A. Babitz, by contrast, saw things sunny side up. If Joan Didion was unsettled and made anxious by the hot Santa Anas that regularly kicked up, Babitz luxuriated in them, recalling how she and her sister would as young girls rush to embrace them, spinning madly round and round. In a 1977 unsent letter to Joseph Heller, who had championed her work when she had sent him an unsolicited fan letter after having read “Catch-22” when it was first published and she was barely 20, she declares proudly: “I’m a gossip storyteller who likes L.A. rather than hates it.” She refers to her “shallow nature,” writing that “I feel like an upstream salmon, determined to reach the shallow water, no matter how fast the river is running the other way.”
Eve Babitz, the ultimate Hollywood reveler, on Sunset Boulevard in 1980.
(Los Angeles Times)
On the evidence of these letters, she had two great loves: Ahmet Ertegun, a principal founder of Atlantic Records, and Tom Dowd, renown recording engineer and producer who worked for Ertegun. Of the two, Ertegun had the edge, if for no other reason than he came with buckets of dough, making possible assignations at his regular bungalow at the Beverly Hills Hotel with limo pickup and dropoff services, and the best champagne and other assorted stimulants. Ertegun was effortlessly elegant and erudite, and there was no one he didn’t know and who wouldn’t return his calls. He was married, age 45, 20 years older than Babitz, when they fell for each other in 1969. She began sleeping with him even as she agreed to profile him for Jann Wenner’s newly launched Rolling Stone. The writing didn’t go well. Wenner wanted a tougher piece than she was willing to write. Ultimately, she abandoned the assignment, claiming (not unreasonably) that she didn’t see how she could write objectively about a man she loved.
Babitz courted danger with heedless bravado and exemplary recklessness. She once had the moxie to rid herself of a would-be rapist: When told not to scream, she said with unimaginable sangfroid: “Why not?” The man bolted. It might be said of Babitz, as Oscar Wilde said of his life, that she spent her talent on her writing and reserved her genius for her life. Sculpting her natural gifts of wit and brazenness into a living artwork dazzled all who came within her orbit. Her lust for life was palpable. The letters are proof. She came at people without fear. She left them without apology. She was the boss of herself. She was the girl who seemed to have it all. The only thing she lacked was inexperience.
Samantha Morton didn’t mean to start humming during that scene in “The Odyssey,” the scene everyone is talking about, when, as the sorceress Circe, she turns Odysseus’ men into pigs, literally molding them into their true savage selves.
It wasn’t in the script. It just happened. And when Morton was done, she looked over to director Christopher Nolan, waiting for him to say something like, “Maybe try it without the humming, Samantha.”
But Nolan didn’t say anything, so Morton did it again and the music that was swirling inside her head, which she remembers now as a symphony of glass harmoniums and theremin, kept coming out as Circe went about her witchy business, altering her gluttonous guests, who are busy slurping and gulping down her stew.
“These are sounds that can make you go mad, apparently,” Morton, 49, tells me, reclining on her bed at the Hotel Chelsea in New York. “So to transform the men, the magic came not just from my hands but from my sounds.”
Samantha Morton as Circe in “The Odyssey,” directed by Christopher Nolan.
(Melinda Sue Gordon / Universal Pictures)
Morton unabashedly believes in magic. How else, she asks, can you explain how a girl who was shuttled between children’s homes and a dozen foster families, only to be living on the streets of Nottingham, England, at the age of 14 with a criminal record, be here talking with me now, sipping green tea at the Chelsea?
“That’s got to be guardian angels and love — and not that I suddenly became good at acting and got a job,” says Morton, a veteran who’s been at it for 35 years, dazzling audiences and stealing scenes for the likes of Steven Spielberg, Jim Sheridan and, now, Nolan. “I’ve always believed that anything is possible and there’s no doubt in here,” and she pats her heart, “because I’ve always felt this immense love for me from another entity.”
When Morton heard that Nolan wanted to meet her for “The Odyssey,” she says she wept. If that sounds dramatic, she makes no apologies. She likens it to being an athlete who qualifies to represent their country at the Olympics. She’d spent decades honing her craft for that phone call. When it came, she flew to Los Angeles in January 2025 during the wildfires, embarking on what would become the best job interview of her life.
I ask her what she remembers about that meeting.
“I think it went really well,” Morton answers, laughing.
Morton told Nolan she hadn’t read “The Odyssey,” which, when you quit school at the age of 12, makes sense. Flying back home to England — she and her husband live in East Sussex with their children, 18-year-old daughter Edie and 12-year-old son Teddy — she recalled that, yes, she knew a bit of “The Odyssey” from having seen it parodied on an episode of “The Simpsons.” (“We’re ‘Simpsons’ mad in our house,” she says. “Like, mad.”)
But Morton doesn’t believe in bogging herself down in research, not since starring in a British TV production of “Jane Eyre” when she was 19 and carried around a heavily highlighted copy of the Charlotte Brontë book, despairing whenever the adaptation deviated from the novel. From that point on, she stuck to the script and her own imagination.
“That’s got to be guardian angels and love — and not that I suddenly became good at acting and got a job,” says Morton of her career. “I’ve always believed that anything is possible.”
(Ebru Yildiz / For The Times)
Thinking about Circe, Morton recalled going to the library with her dad (“We had nothing and were beyond poor, but he always had a library card,” she says) and finding the Howard Pyle fairy-tale book “King Stork.” She remembers being mesmerized by the story’s wicked witch. She recalls other witches from folk tales like Baba Yaga, frightening characters but also, she says, “women possessing an innocence that had been eroded over the years by the harshness of life.”
Morton does a playful verbal evasion when discussing the nuts-and-bolts aspects of shooting the scene where Circe transforms Odysseus’ men, saying that back in the day when behind-the-scenes features were prevalent on DVDs, she routinely declined to participate.
“I didn’t mean to be tricky, but it was like: This is my private moment. This is for me,” she says. “I do like the idea of a little mystery.”
But then a beat later, she laughs it off and dives in, remembering that her husband showed her an Instagram post from Nolan’s set revealing how the movie’s Cyclops was, in fact, a puppet.
“Oh my gosh — I love puppets!” Morton raves, and off she goes, telling me how much she adores Jim Henson and how “The Dark Crystal” is one of her all-time favorite films.
What she will say about her “Odyssey” scene is that there were no digital effects. Everything was real and “in camera” and that she was so in the zone that she barely remembers any of it, only flashes.
“That’s not CGI,” Morton says. “That’s human brilliance and a connectivity of me as a performer, almost dancing and feeling one. And not to say that it was sexual, but I wanted it to be very sensual when she’s with the men and the animals, just like, you know, that she’s almost one with them.”
“What was lovely about that,” Morton begins and then stops, wondering if she should draw back the curtain on the creative process. She goes ahead. “There was a day on set when Chris was like, ‘OK,’ and he put his hand in because I was a little scared. It’s like that scene in ‘Raiders of the Lost Ark’ where he puts his hand in the thing, and you’re like, ‘Oh no!’ I was a little nervous, but Chris did it first. I think he actually cut his finger.” She giggles. “You know, he’s going to go in first, like getting into the cold water in the sea. I felt protected and supported in that whole process.”
When Odysseus’ men arrive at Circe’s home, hungry, asking to be fed, Circe seems frightened — understandably so. She’s alone, and these soldiers have a history of pillaging and taking what they want. And yet, she’s a powerful sorceress. Is Circe really scared or tricking them to lure them in?
“I played that like she was genuinely frightened because she was caught off-guard,” Morton says. “I also wanted to play somebody that was all ages, so I played her like a 16-year-old girl in that scene. And then in other scenes, I’m playing her as a 90-year-old woman or a 49-year-old woman or a sister or a mother, a grandmother. I just wanted her to be ageless.”
Morton, looking out for Circe, stresses that transforming Odysseus’ men was not purely vengeful.
“It’s not just hate,” she says. “It’s not just harm. It’s not just anger. It’s almost like a Zen master within the goddess role of the teaching as well. ‘Be careful what you wish for,’ gluttony, greed, all of these things.”
There’s a righteous feminist rage underneath the scene as well, a modernization that brings “The Odyssey” fiercely and disturbingly up to date. It’s another reason why people leave are leaving the theater talking about Morton.
“In some weird way, the film lived or died over that character,” says director Nolan of Morton’s Circe, a creation of pure acting and no digital sorcery. “She was the fulcrum.”
(Ebru Yildiz / For The Times)
Nolan thinks “The Odyssey,” in some weird way, “lived or died over that character — she was the fulcrum.” He told The Times that “after one of her takes, the crew gave her a great round of applause.” Emma Thomas, Nolan’s producing partner and wife, later recalled that the last time that had happened was with Heath Ledger on “The Dark Knight.”
Morton makes a point of telling me how much Ledger meant to her, having been cast opposite him (and Odysseus himself, Matt Damon) more than 20 years ago in Terry Gilliam‘s 2005 fantasy adventure “The Brothers Grimm.” Miramax chief Harvey Weinstein overruled Gilliam, dropping Morton from the film because, in his eyes, she wasn’t attractive enough.
“And Heath fought for me with such kindness and compassion,” Morton says. “He’s up there with Philip Seymour Hoffman for me. There’s something otherworldly personal about what they gave, such sincerity and vulnerability and an absolute dedication to craft. They leave a mark on your heart.”
It’s not the first time Morton has invoked the heart in our conversation. She brought her son, Teddy, to New York for the premiere of “The Odyssey” because she wanted to show him the place where her creative spirit was born. Morton first came to New York as a teen to do press for “Emma,” returned a year later to promote “Jane Eyre” and then couldn’t bring herself to leave, “sofa-surfing” at friends’ apartments so she could immerse herself in the city.
“New York stole my heart,” Morton says. It’s where she first got into literature, devouring Charles Bukowski, roaming the aisles at the St. Mark’s Bookshop, checking out movies from Kim’s Video and gobbling hash browns and eggs over easy at the Waverly Diner.
Not long after, Morton scored the role that would land her the first of two Oscar nominations (for now, at least), playing the mute laundress in Woody Allen’s “Sweet and Lowdown.” The production put her up in a Greenwich Village apartment and when it ended, she moved to the East Village.
Only the diner remains but Morton still plans on touring the Village with Teddy, showing off all of mom’s old haunts and, yes, having a cup of soup at the Waverly.
“Life is good right now,” Morton says, smiling. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll indulge in some hash browns.”
SAN FRANCISCO — Every election produces a campaign strategist whose victory bestows upon them, for at least a little while, the unofficial title of reigning political genius.
In an age before the internet, before social media, before the cable-TV chat shows and before Carville and the like, Reilly came as close to celebrity as a political operative possibly could. He was the subject of fear, admiration, contempt, envy and lengthy newspaper and magazine treatments.
His cherry-red Jaguar, Italian suits, designer eyewear and seaside mansion made Reilly an influencer before there even was such a thing. (A connoisseur of the finer things, he served visitors coffee in bone china when they called on his San Francisco office.)
“It used to be that political consultants and political mechanics were something that only a handful of people thought about,” said Eric Jaye, one of generations of campaign strategists who were trained or inspired — directly or indirectly — by Reilly. “Clint was the original star consultant who made news himself and shaped the political discussion.”
Reilly, a working-class product of Oakland who crossed the Bay and scaled the heights of San Francisco business, culture and politics, died earlier this month at age 79.
For someone who never held political office — a 1999 bid for San Francisco mayor was a notable flop — Reilly wielded considerable influence.
A list of the many Democrats he helped elect — among them Nancy Pelosi, Dianne Feinstein and Barbara Boxer — reads like a scroll of modern California history. At one time, the sitting mayors of both San Francisco and Los Angeles were clients of Reilly.
He wasn’t flawless as an election strategist. Like any political operative, he had his share of defeats.
Reilly’s particular genius lay in the methodology — vertical integration — he brought to campaigns. Typically, one consultant would handle television advertising, another direct mail, another polling, another big-picture strategy, and so on.
“Everything was in-house with Clint and, at least in San Francisco, he was the first to do that,” said Jerry Roberts, who was a scruffy reporter for the city’s alt-weekly when he met a shaggy-haired Reilly more than 50 years ago. At the time, campaigns were a sideline for Reilly, who supported himself selling doodads and other salvaged wares in a movable flea market he operated on Fisherman’s Wharf.
In 1988, he managed what, at the time, was the most expensive political campaign in California history, a $64-million effort by the insurance industry to beat back a Ralph Nader-inspired reform initiative. Reilly lost, but his firm cleared at least $6 million on that contest alone — or about $17 million in today’s dollars.
“So that’s where our premiums went,” one guest observed with a low whistle as he arrived at the state-of-the art headquarters Reilly built not long after the Proposition 103 campaign. (Naturally, he threw an open house; for all his affluence, Reilly never did entirely shake the proletariat chip on his shoulder.)
A onetime seminarian — he left three years shy of being ordained a Catholic priest — Reilly was no saint.
He was hot-tempered, profane and egotistical. He embraced the nickname “Satan,” which a former client affixed after Reilly went to work for an archrival, as a reflection of his reputation for intimidation and mastery of the political dark arts.
In one fit of pique, Reilly took the unheard step of firing a client — Feinstein — via faxed press release because, he said, the former San Francisco mayor lacked the requisite fire to run for governor. The two eventually reconciled, though Feinstein stuck with members of the team that replaced Reilly and helped guide her to successive terms in the U.S. Senate.
If Reilly was at times overbearing — and known for being the kind of hellacious boss who gave employees night sweats — he was also generous and a genuine bleeding heart.
Before his career took off, Reilly volunteered for the United Farm Workers and lived an ascetic life, sheltering in church halls, as he ministered to the poor. Once he established his high-end consulting firm, Reilly retained his political staffers at no small expense, even during the lull between campaigns, rather than hiring and firing them as seasonal workers, which was the norm.
After leaving professional campaign consulting in the mid-1990s, and making a substantial fortune in real estate, Reilly gave prolifically to various charities and assorted civic caucuses. He started a charitable foundation of his own, Bay Scholars, which helps poor and underserved youth attend Catholic high schools throughout the area.
In 1987, when Reilly arguably resided at the height of his power and influence, he took on Pelosi as a client.
She was running for a rare open congressional seat in San Francisco and, though well known in political circles as a prodigious Democratic fundraiser and high-level activist, Pelosi was a blank slate to many voters. Reilly came up with a slogan that played on Pelosi’s Washington connections and many important friendships: “A voice that will be heard.”
Pelosi was one of 14 candidates, several of them well-known Democratic officeholders. Ignoring Pelosi’s objections, Reilly sent out a mail piece to the city’s vastly outnumbered Republicans suggesting that a Democrat was bound to win the congressional seat and arguing that Pelosi was the best — or, at least, not the worst — of the bunch.
As EastEnders’ king-hearted teen Barney Mitchell lands himself in hot water, let’s take a look inside the life of actor Lewis Bridgeman.
Barney arrived in Walford back in June 2024(Image: BBC/Jack Barnes/Kieron McCarron)
EastEnders has aired shock scenes for the teenagers of Walford this week, and Barney Mitchell could be hiding a very dark secret.
Actor Lewis Bridgeman arrived on the BBC One soap in the summer of 2024, alongside his dad, Teddy (Roland Manookian), and Harry (Elijah Holloway), and drama quickly followed.
It was soon revealed that self-confessed bookworm Barney is the product of an affair between his mum, Nicola (Laura Doddington), and Zack Hudson (James Farrar), leaving both Barney and Teddy devastated by the truth about his paternity.
Sweetheart Barney appears to be an innocent extension of the Mitchell family with a passion for friendship and education, but the schoolboy is now taking center stage, as he may be hiding a sinister side following a violent incident involving Joel Marshall (Max Murray).
In recent episodes of the BBC soap, Joel returned to Walford following a six-month prison sentence for violently attacking his step-mum, Vicki Fowler (Alice Haig), who was determined not to live under the same roof as the tearaway teen.
He soon realised he was not welcome in the Square and planned to leave without saying goodbye to his dad, Ross Marshall (Alex Walkinshaw). However, before Joel left the Square, he was attacked by Walford’s teenagers who tied him to a fence and soaked him in beer while making fun of him.
Lily Slater (Lillia Turner), Avani Nandra-Hart (Aaliyah James), Amy Mitchell (Ellie Dadd), Nugget Gulati (Juhaim Rasul Choudhury), Ricky Branning (Frankie Day), Denzel Danes (Jaden Ladega), and Barney Mitchell (Lewis Bridgeman) later went back to free Joel after Will Mitchell (Freddie Phillips) ordered to let him go.
But when they returned, Joel was found unconscious on the floor with a serious head injury. On Thursday (July 23), the group was sickened by the sight of his body, and the police soon arrived at the scene.
DC Craig Ingram (Matthew James-Bailey) assured the teenagers were not under arrest as their parents gathered at the station, though they were all witnesses to the assault.
The group later gathered in The Arches to get their story straight as Joel received treatment in the hospital, but Barney looked visibly sheepish.
Harry Mitchell (Elijah Holloway) arrived and told them to leave, saying that the garage owner, Phil Mitchell (Steve McFadden), would be furious if he knew they’d used his premises as a meeting point. It then transpired that Barney had taken his spare key.
With everyone gone, Barney asked his brother if he’d found anything. Harry pulled a carrier bag from his coat that contained a hammer and said he needed to know everything. Did Barney attack Joel?
Who plays Barney in EastEnders?
Barney Mitchell is played by actor Lewis Bridgeman. The 19-year-old actor was born in Maldon, Essex, and attended Plume School with aspirations to become a drama teacher or an actor from a young age.
In 2021, Lewis joined the National Youth Theatre, which allowed the soap star to participate in workshops and stage productions and opened up opportunities for professional acting contracts.
The young actor has since appeared in various theatre productions, including The Wind in the Willows and Goodnight, Mister Tom.
Lewis’ talents do not stop at acting, as the soap star is also very intelligent. At the age of 12, he took Mensa International’s acceptance test and passed, indicating an IQ above 132 and placing him in the top 2% of the world’s population.
Lewis has been diagnosed with autism and dyspraxia, and his mother, Jayne Bridgeman, was worried he would struggle at school.
“Lewis has wanted to become an actor since the age of six,” proud mum Jayne told Maldon Standard in 2021.
“He adores everything to do with theatre and film. I’m very proud, I love the theatre, and we geek out together on Star Wars and Marvel things.”
Lewis went on to achieve four grade 9s and studied drama at A-Level whilst attending Chelmsford Drama Centre at weekends.
He landed the role of Barney Mitchell in EastEnders in 2024, with his first scene airing the same summer.
EastEnders airs Monday to Thursday on BBC One and iPlayer
Coronation Street’s Betsy Swain has taken centre stage this week as the ITV soap tackles the silent dangers of non-fatal strangulation in a powerful stroke awareness storyline
Coronation Street’s Betsy Swain has taken centre stage this week as the ITV soap tackles the silent dangers of non-fatal strangulation(Image: ITV)
Coronation Street’s Betsy Swain is currently part of a hard-hitting storyline.
The hit ITV soap is tackling the silent dangers of non-fatal strangulation in a powerful stroke awareness storyline. Only recently, Ryan Connor discovered an unconscious Betsy, where she was rushed to hospital.
Doctors confirmed that she had suffered a stroke caused by a blood clot which was the result of neck artery damage from a temporary loss of circulation.
Once stabilised having suffered a second stroke, an embarrassed and vulnerable Betsy eventually managed to reveal that her boyfriend Dylan Wilson strangled her during consensual sex, despite both believing the pressure applied was minimal.
In the coming months, viewers will witness Betsy’s challenging recovery journeys as she transitions from hospital to home, navigating significant life changes. With Betsy taking centre stage, soap watchers are keen to learn more about actress Sydney Martin’s life from her real age to her normal job before Corrie fame…
Real age
Sydney shot to fame when she joined the ITV soap as Betsy, daughter of fan favourite DS Lisa Swain, played by Vicky Myers.
In the soap, Betsy’s age is 18 with the character having been born in September 2007, meaning she will turn 19 later this year. However, in real life, actress Sydney is in fact 24.
Back in October, Sydney celebrated her birthday, sharing a post on her Instagram revealing she was 24. Reacting to Sydney’s real age, soap fans were left floored at the time.
On a Coronation StreetFacebook fan page, one person said: “Happy 24th birthday to Sydney Martin who plays Betsy Swain!“
Someone else declared: “Never knew she was 24!” A third chimed in and quipped: “I need a moment! She’s 24 What?!” Echoing their thoughts, another person penned: “Def looks younger doesn’t she.”
Normal job before Corrie fame
Before landing her Coronation Street role, Sydney was working at supermarket Tesco and immediately handed her notice in after getting the life-changing call.
Previously talking to The Sun, Sydney recalled how she was watching the film Pitch Perfect 3 with flatmates in Manchester when she got the call to say she had won the role of Betsy.
The actress told the publication: “I just ran to the corner of the flat to answer the phone. I said, ‘It’s going to be a no, so keep watching the film’, and then my agent said, ‘Go hand in your notice’.
“I was doing six days at Tesco, so it’s quite the career change. My flatmate picked me up and we just cried. We didn’t finish Pitch Perfect. I could not have asked for a better first opportunity.
“My parents are my biggest fans. They are over the moon. I had my first picture in a magazine recently and they bought ten copies.”
Sydney admitted that she had previously auditioned for two smaller roles before landing Betsy and it was a two-month process before getting the job.
Coronation Street continues on weekdays at 8:30pm on ITV and ITVX.
Inductees into the National Baseball Hall of Fame by definition have plenty of marvelous memories when reflecting on the career accomplishments that led them to Cooperstown.
Bumps in the road were inevitable as well.
One big bump for Jeff Kent and Andruw Jones came with the Dodgers in 2008, Kent’s last of 17 MLB seasons and Jones’ first following 12 years with the Atlanta Braves.
Suffice to say neither will enter the Hall of Fame wearing a Dodgers cap.
Kent signed with the Dodgers ahead of the 2005 season fresh off a National League Championship Series Game 7 loss with the Houston Astros. Already recognized as perhaps the top power-hitting second baseman of all-time, he yearned for a championship ring to make his career complete.
Jones, a center fielder from the Caribbean island of Curaçao, signed a two-year, $36-million contract with the Dodgers at age 31 only three years removed from leading the National League with 51 home runs and 128 runs batted in. Already the winner of 10 Gold Gloves, he also was chasing a title after losing twice in the Fall Classic.
“It’s one of those things where we didn’t sign to make the Hall of Fame, we played this game because we love it and because we wanted to win championships,” Jones said Friday.
The Dodgers had high expectations in 2008. Joe Torre, with four World Series championships as manager of the New York Yankees on his resume, was in his first year in L.A. The roster was a blend of accomplished veterans (Nomar Garciaparra, Greg Maddux, Derek Lowe and midseason pickup Manny Ramirez) and budding stars (Matt Kemp, Russell Martin, Andre Ethier, James Loney and midseason call-up Clayton Kershaw).
Kent was the resident no-nonsense, old-school veteran whose bat remained potent at age 40. Near the end of the previous season he had gone public with his frustrations about the approach of some of the young players.
“A lot of kids in here, they don’t understand that … you hate to waste an opportunity, even if it’s one and even if it’s your first time,” he said at the time. “It’s hard to get them to understand that because they haven’t been there.”
By spring training in what he acknowledged would be his final season, Kent had gotten over it and was ready for a last try.
“So much is made of the idea that we should be hugging, that we should all go out to dinner, but more important is the translation of talent and knowledge, with the older guys showing what they know and the younger ones asking for it,” he said.
Jones was expected to lock down center field and provide leadership. But a poor start and a midseason knee injury torpedoed his performance. He batted .158 with three home runs and 14 RBIs in 75 games and suffered torn cartilage in his right knee that required surgery and landed him on the disabled list for the first time in his career.
Kent, as always, was consistent at the plate, batting .280, but he also sustained a knee injury that required arthroscopic surgery and sidelined him for all of September.
In what could have been a legit postseason opportunity, Jones did not play and Kent came off the bench to go 0 for 9 during an NLDS sweep of the Cubs and five-game loss to the Phillies in the NLCS.
Kent will wear a Giants cap into Cooperstown. His six seasons playing alongside Barry Bonds vaulted him into the conversation as the best-hitting second baseman of all-time. He drove in more than 100 runs eight times, was NL MVP in 2000 and finished his career with 55.4 wins above replacement (WAR).
In a video call with reporters Wednesday, Kent made it clear that his heart belongs not to San Francisco or L.A., but to Austin, Texas, where he lives on a ranch.
“I’m a boring guy,” he said. “I chase grandkids and chase cows and ride motorcycles. When I retired I kind of went into my hole in Austin and I like living in my hole.”
Jones will don a Braves cap. He made his debut at 19 in 1996 and hit 25 or more home runs in 10 consecutive seasons beginning in 1998, finishing his career with 434 homers and 62.7 WAR.
“When I came [to Atlanta] at the young age of 19, they welcomed me in,” he said. “I never moved from here. I made Atlanta my home.”
The Hall of Fame induction ceremony takes place Sunday, July 26 at 10:30 a.m. PDT. Outfielder Carlos Beltrán will be inducted along with Kent and Jones.
“It’s a bigger emotional deal than I ever thought it would be, absolutely,” Kent said. “I still tear up talking about it.”
Added Jones: “Thinking that this kid from Curaçao who came here chasing a dream, gets a chance to play a sport he loves and ends up in Cooperstown, is wild.”
Minister of Gender Equality and Family Won Min-kyung discusses the ministry’s policy achievements and plans during a briefing at the Government Complex Seoul on Wednesday. Photo by Asia Today
July 16 (Asia Today) — The South Korean government is considering lowering the maximum age for exemption from criminal punishment from 14 to 13 for juveniles who commit violent, serious or repeated offenses.
The debate intensified after President Lee Jae-myung ordered officials Tuesday to reconsider an initial proposal that would lower the age by only one year and apply the change to limited categories of crimes.
Lee questioned whether the proposed change was substantial enough during a Cabinet meeting.
Under South Korean law, children younger than 14 cannot be held criminally responsible. Those ages 10 through 13 who commit offenses may instead receive protective measures under the Juvenile Act.
The Ministry of Gender Equality and Family presented the Cabinet with the results of a public consultation on the issue. It proposed making some 13-year-old offenders eligible for criminal punishment when they commit particularly serious or repeated crimes.
Cabinet members, however, raised concerns that applying different ages of criminal responsibility depending on the type of offense could create legal problems.
The minimum age of criminal responsibility has remained unchanged since South Korea enacted its Criminal Act in 1953.
A deliberative survey of 212 citizens showed that 46.7% supported lowering the age only for violent, serious or repeated offenses while 30.2% favored lowering it for all offenses.
Among participants who supported a reduction, 55.8% favored lowering the threshold by one year.
The government is expected to conduct a second public consultation to determine whether the change should apply only to specified offenses or to all crimes. The process also will consider whether the current threshold should be lowered from younger than 14 to younger than 13 or younger than 12.
The Ministry of Justice is expected to lead the second consultation because the proposal requires a detailed legal review.
Officials will need to determine which offenses qualify as violent or serious and whether applying different criminal responsibility standards according to the offense would conflict with the purpose of the juvenile justice system.
The second consultation could begin this month and conclude within one or two months.
The government said it would gather additional public input before reaching a final decision.
The Ministry of Gender Equality and Family also plans to pursue revisions to the Criminal Act and Juvenile Act while considering the creation of an interagency committee focused on preventing juvenile delinquency.
Officials said the government would strengthen post-offense management and rehabilitation programs designed to reduce repeat offenses regardless of whether the age threshold is lowered.
While every World Cup introduces viewers to new young stars, this tournament featured eight players who were older than 40 — one more than the number of over-40 players in the previous 22 World Cups combined.
Among them were Portugal’s Cristiano Ronaldo, 41, and Mexico’s Memo Ochoa, 40, who were playing in their sixth World Cups alongside Argentina’s Lionel Messi, a relative youngster at 39. No one has played in more men’s World Cups.
But while Ronaldo and Ochoa have gone home, Messi will be playing in his third semifinal in four tournaments Wednesday when Argentina, the reigning champion, faces England at Mercedes-Benz Stadium in Atlanta.
The newfound longevity of elite soccer players has been made possible by advances in sports medicine, diet and analytics that measure everything from biomechanics and heart rate to muscular output and sleep cycles, all in real time. And injuries that once ended careers can now be repaired through outpatient procedures.
Argentina star Lionel Messi holds his jersey up and celebrates with teammates after a World Cup quarterfinal win over Switzerland on Saturday in Kansas City, Mo.
(David Ramos / Getty Images)
“Over the past 10, 20 years, the sports science within the game has changed a lot,” said Liam Anderson, an exercise physiologist at the University of Birmingham in England, who has worked as an applied practitioner in top-flight professional soccer for more than a decade.
“Players are now definitely more aware of their bodies and I think the professionalism has changed quite a lot as well. But they’re also in tune with the things which are helping them recover, manage their training load and ultimately stay fitter and healthier for longer.”
Gone are the days when chain-smoking Dutch legend Johan Cruyff would light up a cigarette on the bench, French world champion Zinedine Zidane would smoke in the locker room and George Best would party and drink so hard he would disappear for days at a time.
“There’s a couple of reasons,” Dr. Michael Joyner, a specialist in the physiology of elite athletes at the Mayo Clinic, said of the growing lifespan of soccer players. “The first is that people just make a lot more money and as a result, there’s tremendous incentive to keep playing. The second is people are taking much better care of themselves.”
“You just don’t hear about people like George Best anymore,” said Joyner, speaking for himself and not the clinic where he works.
“Diet is huge,” Anderson added. “High-protein diets and fueling with carbohydrates for matches. Nutritional strategies have changed considerably in the last 10-15 years.”
And those diets are tailored by position since a midfielder, who may run more than seven miles in a match, burns more calories than a goalkeeper.
As the eldest player in Major League Soccer, Diego Chara has had to make some concessions to age.
“It’s a little detailed,” said Chara, a midfielder with the Portland Timbers. “Talking about recovery time, it maybe takes a little bit longer than before. Nutrition. Working in the gym, it’ll be longer than other players.”
But if Chara, 40, is an old man in a league where the average age is younger than 26, he would have been something of whippersnapper in this summer’s World Cup.
The Portland Timbers’ Diego Chará passes the ball under pressure from the Columbus Crew’s Wessam Abou Ali on Feb. 21in Portland, Ore.
(Amanda Loman / Associated Press)
Soccer isn’t the only sport in which 40 is the new 30.
Serena Williams returned to Wimbledon this summer at age 44 and at least half a dozen athletes 40 and older showed up at the Milan-Cortina Olympics last February hoping to medal. Four of them succeeded, including American Elana Meyers Taylor, 41, who became the oldest athlete to win an individual gold in Winter Olympics history in the women’s monobob.
It isn’t unheard of for athletes to be golden in their golden years. Ted Williams hit .316 at 41 and Gordie Howe played 80 games and had 41 points in his final NHL season at 52. Nolan Ryan threw a no-hitter and pitched 173 innings at 44 while Tom Brady quarterbacked the Tampa Bay Bucs to a Super Bowl title at 43.
But if those age-defying performances were outliers, playing into your mid-40s and even early 50s may soon become, if not common, at least less unusual.
“People are just staying in better shape, taking care of themselves,” Joyner said. “Career-changing or career-ending injuries are no longer career-ending injuries. It just goes on and on, all of this stuff combined.”
American Serena Williams, 44, serves against Australian Maya Joint during a match at Wimbledon on June 30.
(Cameron Spencer / Getty Images)
State-of-the-art training centers and access to top-line sports medicine have also become more accessible, even in poor countries.
“The elite level has spread and really become global, as opposed to where there used to be pockets,” Joyner said. “The opportunities to compete are so great.”
Few team sports are as physically demanding as soccer, though, which makes both the growing number of seasoned citizens and their performances noteworthy. Messi has averaged nearly a game a week for club and country during the past 23 years, yet he entered the semifinals of this tournament tied for the scoring lead with France’s Kylian Mbappé, who is 12 years younger.
Ronaldo has played even more games yet he became the oldest player to score in a World Cup knockout game when his penalty kick helped eliminate Croatia and midfielder Luka Modric, who will be 41 in less than two months.
“They’ve probably lost a little bit off the top, but their experience and their mind make up for that,” said Scott Trappe, a professor of human bioenergetics at Ball State. “So the overall package of them as a sports person is really they’re contributing at a high level. I think we’re going to continue to see this movement.
Portugal’s Cristiano Ronaldo celebrates scoring a World Cup group stage goal against Uzbekistan on June 23 in Houston.
(Charlotte Wilson / Getty Images)
“They like playing the sport and as long as they can and contribute and they make these teams, they’re going to do it. I don’t see the trend going away.”
And that will not only change the way we think of sports and athletes, it will completely rewrite the record book. Messi, for instance, entered the semifinals of this World Cup as the tournament’s all-time leading scorer with 21 goals. But that was just one ahead of Mbappé, who could appear in another three or four World Cups.
“No question,” Trappe said. “You look what’s going on in pro cycling. We’ve got some guys in their upper 30s competing in the Tour de France, but we also have a teenager competing. So this lifespan, what used to be a five- to eight-year period for cycling at the at the highest levels is turning out to be, you know, double or triple that.”
Both Messi and Ronaldo have benefited from how they play as well, walking rather running for long stretches of the game to conserve energy for the burst they need to lose a defender. It’s a strategy Mbappé, Norway’s Erling Haaland and other young players have adopted and if they do that over enough games, the wear and tear it saves could add years to the end of their careers.
“We are expanding. The age will start moving up a little bit further up and players’ careers will definitely be longer,” Anderson said. “The sort of normal distribution of playing age will begin to move forward and that experience within the squad will be key.’
Argentina’s Lionel Messi dribbles the ball during the World Cup quarterfinal match against Switzerland on Saturday in Kansas City, Mo.
(Charlie Riedel / Ap Photo/charlie Riedel)
Consider Wednesday’s semifinalists. In its quarterfinal win, Argentina used six players older than 32 and two — Messi and defender Nicolas Otamendi — who are over 38. The spine of England’s team runs from goalkeeper Jordan Pickford through defender John Stones to striker Harry Kane, who are all 32.
“We’re coming up with new ways on how to improve and maximizing potential,” Anderson said. “God gave us what we are and it’s maximizing that, not necessarily changing that.”
That knowledge won’t stay in the stadiums and locker rooms for long, expanding to others who choose to adopt the same wellness discipline as professional athletes.
“It cycles down,” Trappe said. “We’re studying that in the lab at a pretty high level. This sort of healthy lifestyle in terms of functionality and extending into our later years and having a higher quality life, there’s data starting to emerge there.
“These types of things are going to trickle into that for sure.”
Jack White stepped in when Charley Crockett accidentally hired, then fired, a satanic doo-wop duo. Happens to everyone, right?
The outlaw country singer apparently thought the husband-and-wife duo known as Twin Temple were like Black Sabbath when he invited them to open two shows for him this week, a July 14 date in Troutdale, Ore., and another on July 18 in Paso Robles. With songs including “Satan’s a Woman,” “Lucifer, My Love,” “Let’s Have a Satanic Orgy” and “Burn Your Bible,” it’s anyone’s guess how Crockett missed the duo’s shtick.
“Today we were informed that Charley Crockett has decided to remove Twin Temple from his upcoming shows next week due to our Satanic imagery,” the musicians wrote on Instagram last week.
“Unfortunately, that means we will not be able to perform for you next week as planned. We are really disappointed as we were looking forward to getting back out and seeing you, and also what it meant as far as bringing different types of people and music lovers together. We are sorry to everyone who was planning to see us.
“We’re grateful for your support, not only of Twin Temple, but more importantly of artistic freedom. HAIL SATAN! 93/93”
Crockett, who dropped his 16th studio album, “Age of the Ram,” in April, posted his own since-deleted message on social media, writing, “Hail Satan? Not me Jack.”
Twin Temple, composed of married couple Alexandra and Zachary James, weren’t out of work for long. White, the former White Stripes frontman, who happened to be kicking off a world tour in support of his new album, “Frozen Charlotte,” caught wind of the debacle and stepped in.
“Twin Temple, Would you like to open my show in L.A. on September 29th at the Hollywood Palladium? Let me know,” White posted on Friday, adding, “Get in front of me Satan!”
The duo was quick to accept, commenting on White’s invite, “Unholy hell…. Sir Jack, you have no idea what this means to us. Lifelong fans- dead leaves on the dirty ground was one of the first songs I (Alex) ever learned on guitar. We were actually planning on coming to this show. It would be a most infernal pleasure to play the devils music with you.”
On Tuesday, Twin Temple announced their third record, “Doomed Lovers,” produced by Shooter Jennings (who also produced Crockett’s “Age of the Ram” and other recent albums). The album will drop Oct. 9 via their own Pentagrammaton Records. The duo told Rolling Stone on Tuesday that they were sad about the turn of events with Crockett but confirmed that their swanky Satan-loving doo-wop isn’t a sham.
“Satan’s the original outlaw, right? He’s a rebel angel,” Alexandra told the outlet. “He’s the one who questioned authority, fought for himself, refused to bow down or conform, and was like non serviam. That was a metaphor that resonated very strongly with me.”
She added, “It’s really fun to go shopping for a human skull and a Ronettes record in the same day, and we get to do that with our band.”
While Twin Temple has been booking shows and working on the album announcement, Crockett has continued to post about the drama from the road. “Well, now I know how it feels when they try to cancel you on the right AND the left,” he wrote on Facebook on Monday. “The thing is, I never subscribed. America can be a One Eyed Jack, but I’ve seen your other side.”
Emmerdale star Shebz Miah arrived in the village in 2025. Here’s everything you need to know about the actor.
Kammy (Image: ITV)
Shebz Miah’s real age recently left Emmerdale fans surprised, as they thought the actor was much younger.
In March 2025, actor Shebz arrived in the village as Kammy Hadiq and caused a stir by stealing a quad bike from Moira Dingle’s (Natalie J Robb) land, with Ross Barton (Mike Parr) being blamed for the theft.
This incident introduced Kammy as a bad boy, and he soon caught Sarah Sugden’s (Katie Hill) attention when she found him struggling to start the stolen vehicle by the roadside.
Kammy was soon caught up in a love triangle with Sarah and Jacob Gallagher (Joe-Warren Plant) as both men tried to win her over. As fans know, Sarah and Jacob rekindled their romance, and have since gotten married and are surrogate parents to baby Leyla.
Meanwhile, Kammy caught the affection of close pal Vinny Dingle (Bradley Johnson), whom he had to gently let down, but revealed his true caring and loyal nature following Vinny’s violent attack.
In a devastating twist, Kammy recently confessed to being homeless, a revelation that left viewers in tears. He was living in a barn and explained that his family estrangement was directly linked to the difficult path his life had taken after tragedy struck in his family years ago.
“My dad died. Unexpected,” he told Belle. “I took it really bad, I didn’t look after my mum how I should have done”. Struggling to cope with his grief, Kammy started mixing with the wrong crowd and became involved in stealing cars.
This led Cain Dingle (Jeff Hordley) to welcome the mechanic into the family as his romance with Belle (Eden Taylor-Draper) blossomed.
Taking to Instagram earlier this year, Shebz, from Bradford in West Yorkshire, shared snippets for his time on the ITV soap so far and wrote: “One year bringing Kammy to life. Grateful for the journey, the incredible people behind the scenes, and everyone who’s welcomed the character into their homes…We’re only just getting started… “
Before his stint in the Dales, eagle-eyed fans might recognise Shebz from his cameo in a 2024 episode of Casualty, where he portrayed Noor Din, and from popping up in Doctors in 2023 as Reece Shaw.
How old is Shebz Miah?
Shebz recently celebrated his 29th birthday, which left fans ‘floored’ as they assumed he was much younger. One fan wrote on Facebook: “Happy 29th birthday to Shebz, who plays Kammy”, as another replied: “29!!! I’m shocked.”
A third chimed in: “I thought he was about 20!!”, as another echoed the sentiment: “Happy birthday, I thought he was only 20 years old, he doesn’t look 29.”
“I didn’t think he was 29, he doesn’t look it. Happy birthday,” exclaimed one person as another simply asked, “29?”
Soap star Shabz tends to keep his private life away from the spotlight and has yet to confirm a romance off-screen.
Fans refused to believe Tamera is celebrating her 48th birthdayCredit: TikTokThe star insisted she is embracing her age as ‘every year is a gift not everyone gets to unwrap’Credit: TikTok
Today Tamera shared a clip on TikTok revealing the women are celebrating their 48th birthday, and fans refused to believe it.
The clip showed her being presented with a cake decorated with ‘3’ and ‘8’ candles, before someone off camera switched the first for a ‘4’.
After jokingly running away from the cake, Tamera stopped and pulled the candles from the cake before holding them up and smiling at the camera.
She wrote: “We spend so much time running from our age. Well, this year, I’m dancing with it. 48 and grateful, because every year is a gift not everyone gets to unwrap.”
Twins Tia and Tamera starred in Sister, Sister from 1994 until 1999Credit: Alamy Stock PhotoTia recently confirmed there is ‘distance’ between them following long-running rumours of a feudCredit: Variety via Getty Images
Rushing to comment, one fan wrote: “Why did I think she’s actually 38? She looks amazing.”
Another said: “There is no way they’re 48!!!”
Someone else wrote: “Oh baby you look 28.”
And a fourth added: “Excuse me, 48? You don’t look a day over 20.”
“While this diagnosis does not change the tragedy of his passing, it provides important context about some of the struggles he may have been facing,” Kneeland’s family, including girlfriend Catalina Mancera, said in a statement.
CTE is a degenerative brain disease that has been found in people who experience repetitive head trauma and can be diagnosed only after death.
“We share this information to help people understand what NFL and other high contact sport athletes might be struggling with,” the family said. “Raising awareness is important to us. We continue to remember Marshawn with compassion for the person he was, rather than defining him by the final moments of his life. One Love.”
Frisco, Texas, police said Kneeland didn’t stop when state Department of Public Safety troopers tried to pull him over on Nov. 5 for a traffic violation. The 2024 second-round draft pick was pursued by authorities in his vehicle and then on foot before being found “deceased with what appeared to be a self-inflicted gunshot wound,” Frisco police said in a statement at the time.
Police-dispatch audio from the incident revealed that Kneeland had sent out a group text to say goodbye to his family.
Researchers at the Boston University CTE Center analyzed Kneeland’s brain tissue and determined that the athlete, who started playing tackle football at age 7, was in stage one of four of CTE.
“Unfortunately, I was not surprised to find CTE in the brain of Mr. Kneeland, because we have found this progressive brain disease in nearly half of the athletes we’ve studied who have died before the age of 30,” Dr. Ann McKee, the center’s director, said in a statement.
“Thanks to the generosity of our brain donor families, we now better understand the earliest stages of CTE, and it is bringing us closer than ever to diagnosing it during life. My team and I are fully dedicated to finding effective treatments and a cure for CTE.”
The Associated Press contributed to this report.
Suicide prevention and crisis counseling resources
If you or someone you know is struggling with suicidal thoughts, seek help from a professional or call 988. The nationwide three-digit mental health crisis hotline will connect callers with trained mental health counselors. Or text “HOME” to 741741 in the U.S. and Canada to reach the Crisis Text Line.
• American playwrights, recognizing that identity is more complicated and slippery than ideology, have been shedding fresh light on what it means to be an American. • Writers such as Young Jean Lee, Tarell Alvin McCraney, Quiara Alegría Hudes, Branden Jacobs-Jenkins, Jeremy O. Harris, Ayad Akhtar, and Bess Wohl have been creating drama from the multidimensional, intersectional realities of characters whose backgrounds refuse to be compartmentalized into a single category.
The American democratic experiment stands on shaky ground. Not since the Civil War have these proverbially United States been so disunited. As the nation throws itself a grand old 250th birthday bash in Washington, the mood in much of the country is more funereal than festive.
All-out partisan warfare has sown chaos. Republican legislators, taking their lead from a president who sees half the nation as his personal enemy, have put their own party’s interests over the republic’s. Staying in office has become the only thing that matters. The values imparted to me throughout my public school education — equal opportunity, impartial justice, respect for expertise, basic honesty — have been abandoned by a new breed of politician that has turned governance itself into a blood sport.
Where can one turn for reassurance that America’s best years are still ahead? Would you believe me if I said the theater? I’m not toeing the line for my field. I’m merely calling attention to a development that’s been gaining strength since I first reported on it in 2015. A cohort of playwrights, breathtakingly diverse demographically as well as aesthetically, has been rejuvenating American theater.
These writers aren’t on a sociological mission. They’re not trafficking in grievance or appealing to a particular political base. They let their plays do the talking. And they’ve been trying to have a conversation that isn’t hijacked by the most doctrinaire voices in the room.
From an institutional perspective, the American theater is in bad shape. The triple whammy of the COVID-19 closures, inflation and technological disruption has left everyone hurting. The Mark Taper Forum had to suspend programming for more than a year, smaller companies still in operation are producing fewer shows, and producers everywhere are gravitating toward the bankably familiar.
But despite this difficult terrain, it has been a boom time for American playwriting. For more than a decade, I’ve been teaching a course at the California Institute of the Arts called American Drama Now, and each year the selection of plays has become harder to whittle down. I designed the seminar partly around theater offerings in Los Angeles to connect students to recent developments in the field and to consolidate awareness that something special is happening in the American theater.
The current generation of playwrights has revealed itself to be remarkably resilient and independent. It has had no other choice. By the time many of these rising talents were accruing debt in graduate writing programs, the dream of a sustainable career in the nonprofit theater had already gasped its last breath.
When Wendy Wasserstein, Tony Kushner,Craig Lucas and Jon Robin Baitz emerged in the late 1970s and ’80s, it was still imaginable that a chosen few playwrights could make a living via the regional theater circuit, that constellation of companies founded as an alternative to the Broadway model.
That prospect was growing dimmer a few years later when playwrights such as Suzan-Lori Parks and Lynn Nottage came into prominence. But hope was still alive in the late 1990s and early 2000s. Regional theaters such as Seattle Rep, the Guthrie, the Goodman and Baltimore Center Stage remained committed to their missions while New York nonprofit companies continued to hold the line off-Broadway.
When did the picture change? In 2009, “Outrageous Fortune: The Life and Times of the New American Play” was published by the Theatre Development Fund, and one of the key findings in this study written by Todd London with Ben Pesner and Zannie Giraud Voss is that “there is no way to view playwriting as anything but a profession without an economic base.” A chasm had opened between the network of increasingly corporate-minded nonprofit theaters and the artists this system was built to serve.
The situation has grown bleaker in the last decade and a half as commercial pressures have ramped up and media consolidation and digital shortsightedness have obliterated arts coverage. Yet there’s been an unexpected upside. Theater artists who have come of age in this period have been released from the burden of having to conform to notions of regional theater respectability.
Instead of worrying about the timid taste of subscription audiences, these dramatists have been writing for themselves and their communities, dreaming up plays that don’t have to fit into institutional slots or stay within the staid bounds of traditional proscenium house decorum. The irony is that in not trying to pass muster with more conservative theatergoers (and their fastidious institutional guardians), playwrights have been winning over not just critics but also formerly squeamish artistic directors and perennially nervous Broadway producers.
The politics of identity for them is a lived experience. And as dramatists, they’re uniquely positioned to appreciate the conflicted loyalties and communal tensions of American life in dramatic rather than dogmatic terms. Whatever agendas they may personally espouse, these writers are too alert to the messiness of history and human nature to be rigidly ideological in their work.
The ongoing war between woke and anti-woke factions is a fatuous melodrama best left to the satirists. The goal of playwrights grappling seriously with what it means to be an American today isn’t to score social media points but to shed light on the fractured reality of our collective experience.
Characters in plays by Young Jean Lee, such as “Straight White Men,” are often “trying on masks to see what might prove effective in a given situation.”
(Lawrence K. Ho / Los Angeles Times)
Identity is not a fixed fact but a raucous collision of parts. No single category can contain the Whitmanesque multitudes jockeying for position inside us. Race, religion, ethnicity, gender, age, sexuality, class, disability and geography don’t line up in perfect political harmony, and each social marker tells only a fraction of the whole story. (Money, the great unequalizer, may be the most taboo subject of all.) “We are not only but also,” the sociologist and cultural historian Todd Gitlin wrote in his 1995 book “The Twilight of Common Dreams: Why America Is Wracked by Culture Wars.” We also overlap and often even clash with ourselves.
Discussion around identity can be dangerous. How can anyone be expected to navigate the minefield? Tribalists and traditionalists have controlled the terms of the battle, one by simplifying, the other by denying, the way privilege has shaped our compound selves.
Playwrights know better. They understand the way oppression, which falls disproportionately on the marginalized, has warped all of us. History, whether acknowledged or not, is etched in our souls.
It is a long-held tenet of the theater that the most interesting characters, like the most interesting people, are defined by their schisms and paradoxes. (How else could Hamlet have maintained his centuries-long hold?) Dramatists are more cognizant than ever of the sociopolitical import of these contradictions and they’ve been chronicling the way this historically freighted baggage emerges in the drama of everyday life.
All the world is indeed a stage and all its inhabitants merely stock players, as Jaques lays out in “As You Like It.” Hegel described Shakespeare’s characters as “free artists of their own selves.” The truth where we and our contemporary stage surrogates are concerned is somewhat more constrained. Culture and representation largely determine the range of our performance possibilities.
Plays such as Branden Jacobs-Jenkins’ “Appropriate” reexamine “the canon of great American family dramas … to uncover the stories that have been suppressed.”
(Craig Schwartz)
Jacobs-Jenkins has recognized perhaps more acutely than any of his peers the way dramatic forms have locked us into set scripts about our lives. He tackles genres — adapting a Dion Boucicault melodrama in “An Octoroon,” reexamining the canon of great American family dramas in “Appropriate” — to uncover the stories that have been suppressed in the dominant white middle-class narratives that would prefer not to think of themselves as political.
Lee’s standout identity plays — “Straight White Men,” “The Shipment” and “Songs of the Dragons Flying to Heaven” — reject the illusion of stable, coherent characters propagated by psychological realism. The figures in her uncategorizable works are in experimental flux, trying on masks to see what might prove effective in a given situation. Even “Straight White Men,” which uses the old home-for-the-holidays genre as a springboard, can’t help spinning away from the drama’s droll hyper-naturalism toward something resembling performance art. (Not even straight, white men want to be confined to a box, even a relatively plush one.)
“Fairview,” by Jackie Sibblies Drury, “theatricalizes the experience of the white gaze.”
(Jeff Lorch)
In “Fairview,” Jackie Sibblies Drury theatricalizes the experience of the white gaze, ultimately reversing the comfortable position white theater audiences have traditionally held. Bess Wohl’s “Liberation,” this year’s most decorated play, reanimates the history of the 1970s feminist movement by questioning what it could be leaving out of the picture. “The Balusters,” by David Lindsay-Abaire, brings the current culture wars to the stage with unique sensitivity through the squabbles of a neighborhood association torn between protecting its town’s heritage status and coming to terms with the more pluralistic demands of the 21st century.
“Fairview,” “Liberation,” and “The Balusters” are extremely funny plays that also happen to be deadly serious. If philosophy begins in wonder, trenchant social drama seems to start in laughter.
What do theatergoers want? They don’t just want to look; they also want to be seen. Isn’t that what any of us wants when gazing into the mirror held up to nature, as Hamlet describes the theater? To be granted a more expansive view of ourselves and others?
E pluribus unum, the motto of the United States, is so fundamental that it’s printed on our currency. There’s perhaps no place where the truth of this phrase — out of many, one — is more regularly realized than at the theater, where strangers transform over the course of a show into that mysterious organism we call an audience.
Gitlin ends “The Twilight of Common Dreams” with a plea: “For too long, Americans have busied themselves digging trenches to fortify their cultural borders, lining their trenches with insulation. Enough bunkers! Enough of the perfection of differences! We ought to be building bridges.”
A coalition mindset doesn’t mean denying history or pretending that America has been a level playing field. It’s been anything but in this “melting pot where nothing melted,” to quote the rabbi whose eulogy sets Kushner’s “Angels in America” in motion. But history happens to all of us, not just a select few. And to be an American is to be embroiled in the great democratic experiment that has been defined by division from the beginning. Empathy, the nuclear fusion of playwriting, is expanded when we’re allowed to take in more of our patchwork selves. Today’s dramatists have been extending a generous invitation to their compatriots: We’ll show you our complexity, if you’ll show us yours.
WASHINGTON — President Trump and his fellow Republicans are reviving a line of attack against Democrats heading into the midterm elections: They’re communists.
In just the past week, Trump has issued dark warnings that members of the Democratic Party’s ascendant left are communists who want to “completely destroy the traditional American way of life” and even engage in assassinations. Vice President JD Vance has similarly called out communism as a political shift that is “something we haven’t seen in the U.S.” House Speaker Mike Johnson has decried “radical candidates” who are “self-described, self-identifying Marxists.”
The GOP’s ideological focus conflates democratic socialism, which often centers on securing universal healthcare, higher taxes on the wealthy and stricter corporate regulation, with communism, under which private ownership is largely eliminated. It has been building since Zohran Mamdani, a democratic socialist, won the Democratic nomination for New York City mayor last year.
But it’s kicked into a higher gear recently after democratic socialists won several New York City congressional primaries last week. The primary victory on Tuesday by another democratic socialist, Melat Kiros, for a Denver congressional seat suggested the trend may extend beyond Manhattan liberalism.
“The Democrats are making this easy for us,” Rep. Richard Hudson, the North Carolina Republican who leads the House GOP’s strategy and fundraising arm, said in an interview. “They’re nominating extreme liberals, leftists who are out of touch even with mainstream Democrats.”
Republicans are holding onto slim majorities
The messaging effort comes as Republicans scramble to hold onto threadbare congressional majorities in the November midterms. It risks overlooking public frustration, particularly among younger voters, with unfettered capitalism at a time of growing income inequality and rising costs.
But it also gives Republicans a much-needed opportunity to shift the conversation back to territory that is more comfortable for them after their party has spent much of the year on defense over the fallout from Trump’s decision to launch a war against Iran, which contributed to widespread price spikes.
Ralph Reed, the longtime conservative activist who hosted Trump last week at a Faith and Freedom Coalition conference, acknowledged that Republicans are facing steep headwinds this year. But the recent string of wins by democratic socialists, he said, allows Republicans to present a contrast between “common sense and crazy.”
Sen. Bernie Sanders (I-VT) speaks during a Get Out the Vote (GOTV) rally at Kings Theater on June 18, 2026 in New York City. Sanders joined Mayor Zohran Mamdani ahead of next week’s primary, and the start of early voting on Saturday, as the pair campaigned for Brad Lander, Claire Valdez and Darializa Avila Chevalier, who are challenging incumbents in Democratic primary contests.
(Michael M. Santiago / Getty Images)
Democrats are uncertain over the party’s direction
The renewed push could tug at tensions among Democrats who are largely united in their loathing of Trump but are divided over the party’s direction. This year’s primaries are shaping up as a referendum between centrists who are eager to course correct from what they see as progressive overreach earlier in the decade and a left-wing pushing for even more sweeping change.
“A lot of this anger has been boiling under the surface,” said Joseph Geevarghese, executive director of Our Revolution, which was founded by U.S. Sen. Bernie Sanders, a Vermont independent who caucuses with Democrats. “It’s coming to the fore in this moment in a very powerful way.”
But Rep. Josh Gottheimer, a centrist New Jersey Democrat, called the victories in Colorado and New York “aberrations.”
“We’ve got to fight like hell to keep our party from being hijacked by socialists,” he said. “Most of them are bomb throwers, not problem solvers.”
Nevada Atty. Gen. Aaron Ford easily dispatched a more progressive rival earlier this year in his Democratic bid for governor in a state Trump carried in 2024. As he eyes a general election challenge to Republican Gov. Joe Lombardo, he insisted candidates like those who won in New York don’t represent all Democrats.
He said the Democratic Socialists of America “is not the face of our party.”
Rep. Suzan DelBene, a Washington Democrat who chairs the House Democratic campaign committee, said in a statement that Republicans were “resorting to desperate attacks that aren’t actually about the pocketbook issues.”
Trump risks overreaching with communism argument
Trump and fellow Republicans risk missing the mark when the public’s embrace of capitalism might not be as strong as it was decades ago.
About half of U.S. adults, 54%, have a positive view of capitalism, according to an August poll from Gallup, a slight decline from 61% in 2010. Democrats have driven some of the shift, but favorable opinions of capitalism have fallen among independents as well.
Only 42% of Democrats viewed capitalism favorably, while 66% had a positive view of socialism. The poll found that both younger and older Democrats have warmed slightly on socialism since 2010, but Democrats under age 50 are much less likely to view capitalism favorably. Democrats age 50 or older didn’t shift meaningfully.
“Young voters, who I would argue are driving a lot of the electoral energy that we’re seeing, came of age politically in a post-Soviet world,” Geevarghese said. “The attacks don’t land in the same way when Donald Trump was politically of age.”
Hudson, who is running the House GOP campaign committee, acknowledged the communism line might not resonate in the same way with all voters, particularly younger people. That’s why, he said, it’s important for Republicans to tailor their message to the needs of individual districts.
“I’ve never run cookie-cutter campaigns where we just say one thing over and over everywhere,” he said.
Still, the argument was high on Trump’s mind again on Wednesday as he visited the newly built Theodore Roosevelt Presidential Library in North Dakota. He called the former president a “ferocious opponent of a thing called communism.”
“It’s the biggest threat to our country, including World War I, World War II, Pearl Harbor, September 11,” he said. “It’s a bigger threat, potentially a bigger threat than that, because it’s like a cancer that spreads, and you better stop it fast.”
Beverly Gage, a history professor at Yale University who has written on the rise and fall of Sen. Joe McCarthy, said earlier eras of anti-communism politics took hold because there was a large and active Communist Party in the U.S. and the Soviet Union was the country’s primary foe. But she said Trump’s focus on the issue is notable given his ties to Roy Cohn, a onetime confidant of Trump who earlier worked for McCarthy.
“It’s not very many steps to get from McCarthy to Roy Cohn to Donald Trump,” she said.
California Gov. Gavin Newsom, a potential Democratic presidential candidate, shrugged off Trump’s communism focus as “bunk.” In an interview, he said the direction of the party isn’t all that different from the dynamics he’s navigated for decades in California politics.
“I governed in an environment where the DSA was otherwise known as progressives,” he said. “This dialectic is so deeply familiar to me, and I don’t over read any of it.”
Sloan writes for the Associated Press. AP writer Michelle L. Price contributed to this report.
Appearing as the amoral daughter of Joan Crawford at only age 17, Blyth’s short film career saw her work with many top stars of Hollywood’s classic era.
Adapted from Giuseppe Tomasi di Lampedusa’s 1958 novel of the same name, The Leopard is a lavish period drama set in 19th century Sicily, reports the Express.
The six-part Italian series charts the fortunes of the Prince of Salina and his aristocratic family during a turbulent era of great change.
The Leopard unfolds against the backdrop of the Risorgimento, or the unification of Italy, as various states across the Italian peninsula were brought together to form the Kingdom of Italy.
During this momentous period, widespread political and social upheaval, along with rebellions and revolutions, preceded the formation of the Kingdom of Italy.
A synopsis of the show from Netflix reads: “Based on what many consider to be one of the greatest Italian novels of all time, The Leopard is a dazzlingly sensuous epic, set against the backdrop of revolution in 1860s Sicily.
“At its heart is Don Fabrizio Corbera, the Prince of Salina, who leads a life surrounded by beauty and privilege. But as Italy moves towards unification and the old aristocratic order is threatened, he realizes that his family’s future is in jeopardy.
“New allegiances must be made, each one a threat to his principles. Eventually Don Fabrizio is faced with an impossible choice.
“He has the power to engineer a marriage, between the rich and beautiful Angelica and his nephew Tancredi, that could secure his family’s legacy, but doing so he would break his favorite daughter, Concetta’s heart.
“The series will be a modern exploration of timeless themes – power, love, and the cost of progress.”
The Leopard boasts an outstanding ensemble cast, including Everybody Loves Diamonds star Kim Rossi Stuart as Don Fabrizio Corbera, Prince of Salina, Benedetta Porcaroli from Netflix’s Baby as Concetta Corbera di Salina, Love & Gelato’s Saul Nanni as Tancredi Falconeri, and The Beautiful Summer star Deva Cassel as Angelica Sedara.
Further cast members include Astrid Meloni, Paolo Calabresi, Gaetano Bruno, Francesco Di Leva, Alessandro Sperduti, Jozef Gjura, and Romano Reggiani.
One viewer posted in their 10/10 review: “Cinematography is absolutely stunning. What a beautiful period piece ; costumes magical, This is a stunningly visually crafted masterpiece of a series.”
A second glowing review proclaimed it a “masterpiece”, with the critic stating: “This is an absolute must-see series! It could have actually been a cinema film, this is the perfection of its film making. An epic construction of story telling, acting, costumes, scenery and music offers an utter delight to watch.”
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A third top-rated review described it as an “absolute masterpiece”, elaborating: “The journey is beautiful, poignant, and brutally honest.”
Yet another awarded it 10/10 and celebrated it as a “masterpiece”, writing: “I wish there were MORE series like this: based on literature, ravishingly beautiful and (99%) aesthetically accurate.”
They went on to draw a comparison with Downton Abbey creator Julian Fellowes’ other notable series, remarking: “The Gilded Age could learn a lesson from “The Leopard’s” creative team.”
The Leopard is available to stream on Netflix now.
The best weapon in the “Jackass’” arsenal isn’t the taser, the beehive or the booby-trapped latrine. It’s the explosion of relief when a prank ends, often in humiliation, always with hoots and claps. The first film, 2002’s “Jackass: The Movie” was slow to discover that carnage without camaraderie is painful; several injuries limped off-screen in horrified silence. Laughter heals, except for the brain hemorrhage that Johnny Knoxville suffered in 2022’s “Jackass Forever” when, dissatisfied by the clobbering he took from a bull, requested a second ramming that knocked him out cold.
Hence “Jackass: Best and Last,” the goon squad’s alleged final film, is underwhelmingly tame. Shot quickly by stalwart director Jeff Tremaine this spring, half of it is a clip reel of past hits, like the time fan favorite Steve-O slingshotted into the sky in a port-a-potty. The rest is scraps of hastily assembled chaos, the most elaborate of which is a puppet show in which veterans Ehren McGhehey, Dave England and Jason “Wee Man” Acuña dangle helplessly from strings, trying to recite cue cards while being pummeled by tropical fruit. “A pineapple!” Wee Man moans.
I’m no sadist. They’ve suffered plenty for our amusement. Still, it’s a shame that for the first time in two and a half decades of cringe comedy, the guffaws feel forced.
Acknowledging the Jackasses’ age, if not maturity, are a couple skits about prostate and rectal checkups. (The gnarliest involves clear pants, colonoscopy prep liquid and a game of Twister.) Modern technology enters the arena with a nimble-fingered robot. If the team had invested any actual energy into brainstorming this entry, they’d have played paintball with a sniper drone. At least for the sake of torch-passing, someone should have thought of something for the newish members introduced in “Jackass Forever” to do besides stand around and applaud.
These fresher faces — Jasper Dolphin, Rachel Wolfson, Zach Holmes — prove brave and resilient when allowed to participate. Only one of them, Sean “Poopies” McInerney, a surf bro so gullible that I’m not sure he’s capable of informed legal consent, fits into “Best and Last” like a well-worn punching bag. (When Poopies yelps that “my mind is getting to me” while wearing a shock collar around a sensitive area, people snort because, as sweet as he seems, the only thing rattling inside his cranium is a moth.) Early on, Poopies gets swollen lip injections that, someone claims, will last the whole movie. You expect his trophy wife pout to be a running sight gag. But his disfigurement never even gets another closeup.
“Jackass” started with a bang. In January of 1998, Knoxville, then a 26-year-old aspiring actor, strapped on a cheap bulletproof vest padded with a stack of “Hustler” magazines and fired a gun point-blank into his chest. His dumb derring-do went viral on VHS tapes, earning him an MTV show and five feature films. Watching that Rosetta Stone-cold stupid footage here, you’re struck not only by his audacity, but by the scene’s excruciating comic pacing. As there’s only one bullet in the pistol, empty chambers click multiple times before the bullet finally fires. Logically, you know Knoxville will live long enough for his hair to turn fright-wig white. Yet the lizard brain making you gawk is shrieking.
Do not attempt any of the stunts you’re about to see, the prefatory caution blares. Absolutely. The thing is, no one else could. “Best and Last’s” flashbacks are a walloping reminder that Knoxville is inimitable: a telegenic and extroverted entertainer with a charisma he wields like a skunk aims its stink. Upset him at your own risk. Like Buster Keaton before him, Knoxville has an uncanny awareness of how his death-defying escapades appear on camera. Even in that near-suicidal early segment, note how Knoxville stays on his feet, enduring agony with a magician’s “Ta-da!” He might have given himself a bruise the size of a baseball but he’s focused on the audience’s delight.
Over the years, the visuals dramatically improve, from snuff film aesthetics to confidently silly splendor. “Jackass Number Two,” released in 2006, expended major energy on a musical homage to Old Hollywood that nodded to Keaton and bathing beauty Esther Williams who, in MGM’s “Million Dollar Mermaid,” plunged 50 feet into a pool and broke her neck. By 2010’s “Jackass 3D,” which riffed on classic cartoons with Knoxville strapping himself onto an Acme-style red rocket, one could admit they went to see a Jackass movie for the cinematography with even more sincerity than if Knoxville claimed he bought “Hustler” for its life-saving properties.
The new movie doesn’t have any artistic ambition. The charitable excuse for its reliance on old material is that the gang wanted one more film that summed up their entire legacy — from the impact of seeing them age to the opportunity to include departed colleagues Ryan Dunn, who died in 2011, and Bam Margera, fired in 2020. The other explanation is it’s a cash grab made for pennies. Still, Steve-O strives for memorable moments, gathering the gang in a generic office building corridor to watch him take off his pants and pop out a ping-pong ball. There’s a lot of nudity but the setting feels half-assed.
“Best and Last’s” intro splat-tacular, typically a highlight of each film, hinges on the posse standing still on a moving floor. But the monochrome staging — white walls, white ground — looks almost like CGI, the antithesis of their appeal, and it takes us a minute to understand what’s actually going on. Worst, it lacks both suspense and surprise, that no-they-aren’t–oh-god-they-are drama that once elevated the franchise to the peak of pure cinema.
There is — and I mean this — existentialism in witnessing a person embrace shame and terror. Actors have won Oscars without achieving the transcendence of, say, misery glutton McGhehey in “Jackass Forever,” bound to a chair and coated in salmon and honey, realizing that his friends have released a bear into the room. Meryl Streep could never do that (and wouldn’t have to). McGhehey’s sole path to stardom is that he did.
Not everything in a “Jackass” movie needs to be that sublime. One of my few genuine howls in “Best and Last” came in a three-second rehash of someone stepping on a rake; another was the percussion Chris Pontius makes with his swinging nethers before attempting a naked Fosbury flop. There’s a great accidental gag in a cut bit from the original MTV pilot when a deputy pulls up to arrest Knoxville and forgets to put her car in park. Yet the snippet I keep thinking about is a throwaway beat in a new skit when McGhehey willingly gets into the wrong chair again and, once freed, attacks Knoxville who coolly knees him in the nuts. Everyone chuckles.
Once, in anthropology class, my professor lectured on an insular island tribe that cackled whenever someone got hurt. Schadenfreude was the community’s way to vent tension. I thought of that village throughout “Best and Last,” especially during Knoxville’s nonchalant disarmament of his pal. Team Jackass has stayed united even while at each other’s throats. In bad times, they’ve borne each other’s struggles with sobriety and mental health. In good, they’ve seen the inequality of success that’s left Knoxville in a better financial position to retire than the rest.
While “Best and Last” is a whiff, I can forgive this band of bozos’ urge to make it. No one seems happy to still be zapping themselves with electrodes. They just want to rally together for the final time to choke out one last laugh.
‘Jackass: Best and Last’
Rated: R, for extremely dangerous stunts and crude material throughout, graphic nudity, pervasive language and sexual material
MADONNA oozed youthful glam in a see-through mini dress as she made a striking appearance at Paris Fashion Week.
The Vogue songstress, 67, looked half her age in the cobalt blue frock, opting to go braless in the sheer attire as she headed to an evening bash in the French capital.
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Madonna oozed glam in a blue mini dress as she stepped out in ParisCredit: BackGridShe finished off her look with a pair of futuristic silver bootsCredit: Splash
She finished off her stylish look with thigh-high silver boots, nude fishnet tights and matching jewellery.
Madge pulled on a pair of sunglasses and threw a metallic jacket over her arm as she exited the French venue, with her blonde hair styled in heat curls flowing over her shoulders.
The American chart star – who recently showcased her huge video which launched her comeback – kept a serious expression as she walked out of The Ritz flanked by bodyguards.
Yet she did flash a pout as she took a brief glance over her shoulder.
The Like A Prayer hitmaker, 67, flashed her toned figure in her striking frockCredit: BackGridShe kept a serious expression as she left The RitzCredit: SplashShe was flanked by bodyguards as she exitedCredit: SplashMadonna has been pulling out all the stops at a variety of Paris Fashion Week eventsCredit: Splash
