audience

The touring production of Meredith Willson’s “The Music Man” that opened Tuesday at the Ahmanson Theatre isn’t an Actors’ Equity Assn. production. When I listed the revival, directed by Matt Lenz, among my fall preview highlights, I assumed it would be of the caliber we have come to expect from Center Theatre Group.

I attended Tuesday’s opening and was disappointed to find a community-theater-level production beneath the superficial sheen of a commercial national tour. The costumes (by Santo Loquasto from the 2022 Broadway revival starring Hugh Jackman) are stunning. The painterly, storybook scenic design by Ann Beyersdorfer, engineered for maximum efficiency, is also lovely and blends beautifully with the Loquasto’s color palette.

The singing is robust, full-throated and spirited. Elizabeth D’Aiuto, who plays Marian, the librarian of this small Iowa town who captures the roving eye of traveling salesman and con man Harold Hill (Elliott Andrews), has a piercing soprano that many an opera singer would envy.

The barbershop harmonies spin an alluring web. The ensemble fills the Ahmanson with blazing, amplified sound. But the strong singing seems disconnected from the actual story. The music has little character. We might as well be watching a concert version of the show.

The problem is the acting, which is broad, detached and, frankly, often amateurish. I felt as if I were watching a polished troupe of semi-amateurs. The less said about the supporting cast, the better. The characterizations are unsubtle across the board. And how could it be otherwise when the actors seem more intent on impressing the audience than relating to one another?

Andrews seems particularly guilty of this sin. But then his character is meant to be smugly self-congratulatory. Harold Hill has come to River City to pull off another swindle. He’s selling musical instruments and costumes to a town that doesn’t yet even have a children’s marching band.

A wiry presence with a capering physical comedy spryness reminiscent of Dick Van Dyke (who starred in the 1980 Broadway revival of “The Music Man” that had a pre-Broadway run at the Pantages Theatre), Andrews makes a rather dashing and daring Harold Hill. He’s no Hugh Jackman, who had the Broadway audience in the palm of his hand when he essayed the role. But Andrews handsomely fills out the part and can sing appealingly when not too much emotion is required. But his theatrical self-absorption makes it hard to care about Harold and even harder to understand why Marian would fall for this transparent fake.

The magic of Marian’s love turning Harold into an upstanding man fizzles. Neither performer seems able to connect. Both are acting in their separate bubbles. It’s like we’re watching a pantomime of “The Music Man” with some glorious, blaring music.

For those who want to scratch an itch for golden age musical nostalgia, this sparkling yet empty production might suffice. But we should expect more from CTG, which is touting that this is the first major production of “The Music Man” to be done in Los Angeles in 46 years.

When I learned that this was a non-Equity production, I was disappointed that CTG was damaging its stature as a nonprofit theater leader by offering such an important showcase to this second-tier touring production. But now having seen the production, I’m more disappointed that audiences are being bamboozled as badly as the good people of River City.

Theatrical gimcrack is being palmed off as a precious stone. Yes, the score still shimmers, but not everything that glitters is gold.

“Heated Rivalry” will soon steam up a movie theater near you. Special Season 1 marathon screenings will celebrate the one-year anniversary of the smash sports romance series that set HBO Max ablaze last November.

Three sets of paired episodes will screen Nov. 6-30 in more than 650 theaters around the world (in the U.S., Canada, the U.K., Australia and New Zealand): over 275 Regal theaters and 375 others, including AMC and Cinemark locations, distributor Sphere Abacus announced Thursday.

Tickets will cost $9.99 per screening, and Regal showings will include filmed greetings from the cast and show creator-writer-director Jacob Tierney. (The show is based on the novel of the same name by Rachel Reid.) Advanced tickets are available now at Regal (showtimes: Episodes 1 and 2, 3 and 4, and 5 and 6).

”Heated Rivalry” is a global phenomenon creating a rush of social media and press activity wherever it lands. We’re very excited to give audiences the opportunity to watch the drama unfold on big screens,” Hana Palmer, Sphere Abacus’ executive director of global distribution and partnerships, said in a statement.

For a limited time, participating locations will offer themed cocktails, including “Summer in Montreal” and “Russians Don’t Blush.” Shane (Hudson Williams) plays for the fictional Montreal Metros hockey team; although Shane’s cottage, where Ilya (Connor Storrie) agrees to spend the summer, is technically in Lanaudière, Québec, two hours outside of Ottawa.

Ilya, a gruff Russian from Moscow, is a fellow professional hockey player for the fictional Boston Raiders. The latter cocktail references a scene in the Raiders’ locker room: One of Ilya’s teammates sees him secretly texting Shane. “You’re straight up blushing,” he tells him. “Never in life have I blushed,” Ilya snaps back. “Russians do not do this.”

“Heated Rivalry” stars Hudson Williams as Shane Hollander and Connor Storrie as Ilya Rozanov.

(Sabrina Lantos / HBO)

“When a series connects with audiences the way ‘Heated Rivalry’ has, we look for ways to bring it to the big screen and give fans a reason to experience it together,” Regal’s SVP of U.S. content Brooks LeBoeuf said. “Nearly a year after its premiere, we’re proud to work with our partners to turn a season fans have watched again and again into a true theatrical event. It’s a chance to celebrate the story, its creators, and its performances before Season 2 arrives in 2027.”

Filming and production are still underway on Season 2, which is slated for release in spring 2027 on Crave and HBO Max.

In the mindbending documentary “You Can See Everything,” comedian Nathan Fielder and professed inventor Elizabeth Holmes sit in her beach house staring at each other like gunslingers. Fielder is the creator of the TV series “The Rehearsal” and “Nathan for You” who constructs discombobulating sham realities that include bogus businesses such as Dumb Starbucks. Holmes is the former billionaire CEO of Theranos who pretended she’d built a revolutionary blood testing machine to squeeze investors for a few dollars more.

Each is an expert in the con. But Fielder is deadpan and cold where Holmes is earnest and warm — and he’s been nominated for Emmys while, in May of 2023 when the film begins, she’s about to serve an 11-year sentence in federal prison. As the camera cuts between close-ups of his narrowed eyes and her big, blue ones, Fielder tries to suss whether he can trust the famous fibber to be honest with him. The showdown is riveting.

“You’re being real right now?” Fielder asks, dubious.

Holmes beams. “I’m always being real,” she swears with a smile.

Her charm hits Fielder in the gut. His face stays neutral yet you can see his own confidence bleed out across the screen.

Co-directed by Fielder and Lance Oppenheim (“Primetime”), “You Can See Everything” is the closest Fielder has come to making a traditional documentary. A thrillingly cringe-tastic interviewer, he blurts out blunt questions like a bungee jumper leaping off a bridge, including asking Holmes’ romantic and business partner Billy Evans, the heir to a San Diego boutique hotel chain, whether it’s possible a woman convicted of fraud might be with him for his money.

At nearly three hours long, “You Can See Everything” won’t bore you for a minute. The hook is right there in the title, Fielder’s challenge to the audience: Here’s how Holmes held up to his scrutiny — do we think she’s telling the truth? But be alert. Fielder remains a trickster. One shot in particular proves you can see everything while being blind to what you’re actually watching.

In the first half of the movie, Holmes and Evans, the father of her two young children, give the small crew complete access to their lives during her last weeks of freedom, including inviting Fielder to sleep in their guest bedroom. It’s an act of “radical transparency,” Evans says. As evidence, there’s a fully nude shot of Evans in the shower, testifying to the intimacy the subjects claim they’re granting the team and the confidence they have that the documentary will make them look great. (Evans also boasts that he’s “excellent” in the sack.)

Holmes maintains both her innocence and her eerie smile, a rictus of empathy. She constantly nods, subliminally snake-charming the listener into a sense of agreement. That assessment might be fair or it might be her reputation making you over-analyze her tics. Doubling down, she even insists she’s never told a lie in her life — a claim that momentarily leaves Fielder at a loss for words.

Yet at times, Holmes really does appear to be sincere. Once she surrenders herself to the Bryan Federal Prison Camp in Texas (where, in an unmentioned coincidence, Epstein collaborator Ghislane Maxwell is also incarcerated), the tone shifts into film noir as Fielder struggles to reconcile Elizabeth Holmes’ dual identities. Is she the sweet-natured scientist, the only version of her he’s ever met, or a femme fatale who may still be running a scam?

“It’s personal,” Fielder says of his fixation. How frustrating that he of all people — the dark prince of pranks — may be Holmes’ latest patsy. Composer Ari Balouzian borrows bits of Bernard Herrmann’s violin score from “Vertigo” while cinematographer David Bolen makes the audience hold its breath by framing an image of Fielder and Holmes like they might kiss.

When the movie’s style gets weird, that’s when Fielder is most in his wheelhouse. Stop reading now if you want to preserve the surprise. Micro-analyzing his encounters with Holmes, he reenacts them with an actor, Amanda Seyfried, whose emotional intensity blows into the film like a gust of fresh air. Seyfried, of course, won an Emmy and a Golden Globe for playing Holmes in the 2022 miniseries “The Dropout.” The twists to come, however, feel as much like last year’s naughty hit “The Housemaid,” the domestic thriller in which Seyfried played a shady wife with a marriage made of lies.

Evans initially seems to think they’re participating in a project closer to Netflix’s glossy portrait of Meghan Markle and Prince Harry. The couple doesn’t know much about humor, pop culture or Fielder himself. Fumbling to figure out what makes him tick, Evans attempts to neg the provocateur as someone who lacks the passion to think differently. (Evans may also be the person who used Holmes’ social media account to write a flattering post calling JD Vance “Lisan al-Gaib,” revealing he’s entirely missed the point of “Dune.”)

But thinking differently is Fielder’s awkward superpower. Sooner or later, all of his projects circle around to his concern that he’s simply wired to be unpleasant. His interactions with Holmes are pure cringe comedy, like when she starts to cry perhaps a bit on cue and he stiffly sputters, “Do you want, like, a tissue?” For the record, he brings her one.

As a viewer, the biggest strike against Holmes is this documentary’s very existence. Whether or not you think she’s guilty of fraud, she is about to be separated from her infant and toddler until they’re in grade school. Who on Earth would genuinely want Fielder, the human equivalent of a skunk, to crash their last moments with their loved ones as he does his darnedest to stink up the place?

Fielder is most comfortable as the film’s villain, shooting himself lurking in the couple’s house like “Halloween’s” Michael Myers. At times, his presence does feel monstrous. In one scene, he needles Evans about whether he thinks his soulmate has ever lied to him while Holmes is on the phone in the next room, tearing up as she asks how often she’ll be able to bathe in prison.

The film doesn’t drill into the technical details of Theranos beyond one dizzying scene where Fielder tries to pin Holmes down on exactly what she meant when she said her machine can run hundreds of different tests. She means it just as I would if I bragged I can benchpress a beer keg — that is, once I strength-train beyond my piddly 5 lb dumbbells.

Instead, it tilts into becoming a caper flick as Seyfried’s commitment to understanding her character’s motivation inspires the actor to invite herself along. The drama they uncover is psychological, as befits an era where Silicon Valley CEOs are closer to cult leaders than engineers, making their cash from being televangelists for their IPOs. And both are attuned to the moments when Evans lets his aggravation slip. One scene is a doozy.

Ultimately, suspicion reigns. “You Can See Everything” is an absorbing study of public presentation and private doubts, a documentary that asks more questions than it answers. I hope Fielder will smile and nod approvingly at me if I say I left the film distrusting him, too, especially Seyfried’s re-staging of a long monologue Holmes delivered in prison where recording devices aren’t allowed. Can we believe that Holmes really did say, “I’m tired of having other people speak for me,” or was that laugh line written by the master manipulator himself? I’m now as paranoid as he is — and what a pleasure.

“For me, performance can’t be everything,” Miley Cyrus declared on Friday night, and you had to admire her choice of setting: onstage at the Hollywood Bowl in front of approximately 18,000 people who’d turned up precisely to see her perform.

A star since her teenage days on the Disney Channel’s “Hannah Montana,” the 33-year-old musician and actor was maybe half an hour into the first of two sold-out concerts at the iconic hillside amphitheater — a place close to Cyrus’ heart, as she explained in a videotaped intro recalling a gig she and her fiancé, Maxx Morando, caught last year by the French band Air.

“I step into wine, which soaks onto my boots,” she said in the dramatic black-and-white clip. “I don’t mind stained leather — it only adds to their character.”

Cyrus’ shows were billed as part of the rollout of her latest album, “Bass Persuades,” which came out in September (and which found her dropping her last name to go simply by Miley). Yet the two-night engagement is really meant to mark her grand return to the stage after she said a few years ago that she’d sworn off touring because it was too harmful to her mental health.

Is “grand” the right word for a comeback as equivocal as this one? Despite all the hype surrounding this weekend’s concerts, Cyrus spoke again and again Friday about how much less space for performance she has in her life these days than she used to; she talked repeatedly about her quest to balance her fans’ emotional needs with her own.

At one point, after singing a couple of numbers on a small B-stage about halfway up the bowl, she walked through the crowd back to the main stage, gripping and grinning the entire way. Then she described the toll her trip had just taken: “I appreciate each of you guys reaching out and touching me, and me getting to feel you. But I do want to say — it is a lot for me,” she said. “It is a little bit overwhelming.”

In an era of parasocial pop stardom, the radical honesty of Cyrus’ approach — her clear-eyed appraisal of the relationship that binds an idol and her audience — was kind of a thrill to behold. The problem was that her singing for the most part wasn’t.

As she described being overwhelmed, her band slowly revved up her song “Wrecking Ball.” It’s one of the great power ballads of the last 25 years, with a chorus as cathartic as any in modern pop; Cyrus, the showbiz lifer, surely understood the payoff she was building toward. Except when the moment arrived, she inexplicably dodged it, skipping the song’s first chorus and soft-pedaling the second — an anticlimax for the ages.

Indeed, Cyrus let the audience and her backup singers handle vocals for many of her biggest hits, among them “The Climb,” “Party in the U.S.A.” and “We Can’t Stop”; during that last one, she twerked for a second, evoking memories of the infamous 2013 MTV performance that briefly scandalized a nation.

She sang more heartily in songs from “Bass Persuades,” which would’ve been better news if that tuneless mishmash of bleary synths and dated club beats weren’t one of the year’s least likable pop records. (This month Variety reported that, after debuting at No. 1 on the Billboard 200, the album took the biggest fall in chart history in its second week of release.)

The paradox of Cyrus’ career at this stage is that she wants to do the thing that nobody wants her to do — “Bass Persuades” is just the latest in a string of crummy LPs — and doesn’t want to do the thing that everybody wants her to do. Truly, her bad taste should be studied: On Friday, she welcomed Wayne Coyne of the Flaming Lips to the B-stage for a duet on “Karen Don’t Be Sad,” from the miserable psych-rock record they made together in 2015. Naturally, Cyrus said it was her favorite of her albums.

One highlight of the show was Cyrus’ tribute to her late godmother, Dolly Parton, whom she memorialized with a rendition of “Jolene” and with a funny and touching account of the time Parton tried unsuccessfully to get Cyrus to sing with her at the Bowl.

I also found myself moved near the end of the night by Cyrus’ performance of the only keeper on “Bass Persuades” — a dreamy little love song called “Let’s Get Married” for which Morando joined her onstage. As he played drums, she ran her hand tenderly over his chest before laying her head on his shoulder; the moment reminded me of that goofy intro video about the Air concert, which she likened to a bubble containing only the two of them.

“That’s how it feels when we’re together,” she said. “I think I’d live in that bubble.”

President Trump’s new press secretary stepped to the podium, the eyes of a packed room of journalists — and many in their audiences — upon her. She smiled broadly at the sea of faces both probing and friendly. With that, Katie Zacharia went live and became the official voice of the world’s most powerful person.

Fourteen minutes and just three questioners later, she was done. In the aftermath, it was clear that the former Newsmax commentator accomplished at least one thing: She put the “brief” back in briefing.

In her debut Tuesday, Zacharia looked downward and often read directly from a script. She paused and grinned when she uttered the words “Department of War.” She stumbled on a question about her background and mixed up the words “husband” and “president.” The few questions she took were nonconfrontational and from media outlets that have been sympathetic to the Republican president. In short: She made no memorable impression — or at least, to hear some tell it, not the one she likely wanted.

This would not be an easy job under any circumstances. Trump most frequently serves as his own spokesman. And his antagonism toward the media has created a new layer of tension. Zacharia is finding out on day one that she, too, will be under constant watch. Some — including a few of those who have stood in her shoes — didn’t think it went all that well.

In fractured times, in a national media scrum unimaginable just a few decades ago, what is the proper way to approach a job like this? How do you speak effectively when your boss speaks for himself so often that he commandeers the news cycle multiple times a day — and sometimes late into the night — with remarks provocative, unexpected and sometimes incendiary?

For one, you realize for whom you work: not your audience of millions but your audience of one, and the absolute need for his approval.

“I get to do what I was doing on the outside already, which was hoping to amplify, multiply and expand upon President Trump’s incredible agenda for the American people,” Zacharia said. Nowhere did she mention the task of disseminating accurate information to Americans.

The press secretary role has been many things

Over the nearly 10 decades since former journalist George E. Akerson made his and the office’s debut as Herbert Hoover’s press secretary in 1929, the job has served many purposes: deliverer of information, amplifier of policy, jouster with journalists, protector of the presidential reputation and, sometimes, overlord of obfuscation.

Under Trump and his second-term press secretary so far — Karoline Leavitt, who resigned in August — the job has been primarily one of acting as the immovable object against an irresistible, and in Trump’s eyes sometimes treasonous, force.

Leavitt got to know this terrain well in her 17-month tenure. She took a smiling but combative stance against a press that was increasingly coming under Trump’s criticism for coverage — and was named in at least one lawsuit about White House media access. She was not shy about interdicting what she considered media bias. “What a stupid question,” she said to one reporter at a briefing last year.

Trump, outside the White House on Tuesday shortly after Zacharia’s briefing, praised her debut as “excellent.” She was standing behind him at the time.

Other early reviews were more critical. MS NOW quoted one unnamed White House official as saying of the performance: “She needs to get much better fast, otherwise she’ll break Scaramucci’s record.” Anthony Scaramucci, an early White House communications director for first-term Trump, lasted 11 days in 2017. Said Scaramucci on X Tuesday afternoon: “I hope she makes it.”

Joe Biden’s former press secretary, Jen Psaki, now the host of a show on MS NOW, put it more succinctly, posting on X: “Well that briefing was basically an SNL skit….except it wasnt.”

Talking up Trump but taking few questions

While Zacharia’s performance — and of course, that’s what every briefing is — may have been bumpy to some, it was also mostly content-free except for news she broke about the White House asking U.S. Ambassador to Greece Kimberly Guilfoyle to quit, which she immediately did.

Predictably, also like Leavitt before her, Zacharia spent a great part of her opening monologue praising Trump and giving an “up ‘til now”-style update on his second term’s priorities and accomplishments so far. Talking points included a “booming economy,” “his historic boom in energy production” and “a great relationship with Venezuela.”

She was also fond of superlatives, a trait that likely will resonate with a president whose remarks are often equally if not more expansive: “President Trump is working to secure the Western Hemisphere for centuries to come.”

When it came to questions, though, she was downright parsimonious. She allowed three questioners, then answered an additional one as she prepared to depart. The three called on during the briefing were Breitbart, Fox News and the Daily Mail, all of which have been friendly to Trump in varying degrees during periods of his two terms. And she said she would continue Leavitt’s policy of bringing “new media” in — which has often meant outlets more sympathetic to Trump.

“We love new media and we want to be able to embrace it,” she said. Currently, three major outlets — CNN, MS NOW and Politico — are fighting to regain White House access after Trump banished them last month, saying he didn’t like their coverage and calling it “fake news.”

How will Zacharia fare in coming days and weeks and, if it lasts, months? That, like so much else, depends on one thing: Donald Trump.

The late U.S. Sen. Howard Baker once famously said that, when being asked difficult things, handle it something like this: If you don’t like the question being asked, just answer a different question. On Tuesday, a half-century later, Katie Zacharia found a different way in — pick three nonconfrontational questioners, then defer to your boss and say: The End.

Anthony writes for the Associated Press.

It has been five years since Michael Che’s last stand-up special. Of course, he has a good excuse, being busy much of the year co-writing and performing “Weekend Update” on “Saturday Night Live,” and he also wrote and starred in two series of his acclaimed sketch comedy show, “That Damn Michael Che.”

But he feels more like himself on the stage, he said in a recent interview. “I really miss stand-up when I’m not doing it because I can really let loose on stage and say all the words I want,” he says.

In his new Netflix hour, with the pointed title, “Michael Che: Shot in Minnesota,” he wastes no time in getting into it, opening with a series of jokes saying a lot of words about Charlie Kirk’s murder: He believes that it happened because “straight white conservative Christian men are being silenced.”

He clearly loves poking at people’s sensitive spots. His favorite joke, he says onstage, is, “Men want anal sex the way women want a sensitive man. It just sounds nice… until you see them crying.”

He talks about race (“I don’t care what color you are — if you’re rich, you’re white”) and goes after President Trump and people who try to police language, but he also talks up how much fun he had at a Pride parade and about growing up poor, with his mother cleaning houses to help make ends meet. In our interview done via Zoom (without a camera on) while he was stuck in traffic on the way to 30 Rockefeller Center and then in an elevator and then in the SNL offices, he discussed it all.

This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

Did anyone in your family shape your humor and your storytelling?

My family has a different kind of humor. It’s a little meaner, if I’m being honest with you.

I’d like to see Thanksgiving at your house.

A lot of people would. It’s kind of crazy.

But the one person was my grandfather who was a pastor. He knew how to hold court and tell a story and he was a funny guy. He could be silly or absurd or dry. So maybe there’s a lot of him in what I do. But he did it week after week with different material.

Speaking of week after week, which is closer to your real self, the “Weekend Update” persona or your stand-up persona?

The stand-up is the most me; “Update” is a job and it’s a character. On stage you get to hear more nuances — on “Weekend Update” it’s a short segment, and I’m splitting time with Colin and guests. There are more needs being met than just mine. I say that respectfully, but there are things we have to touch on that I wouldn’t in my personal work and there are things other people write so it’s never all me.

I can listen, I can build, I can take you on a journey, I can make you think this is a bad joke, but it’s actually a good joke. I can make you think it’s a dirty joke, but it’s a clean joke.

I miss doing stand-up full time, but maybe that’s only because I don’t do it full time. But maybe if I did it full time, I’d miss doing it part time. Getting this hour together for the special, Lorne [Michaels, SNL’s iconic boss] was nice enough to let me go on the road even during show weeks, and he didn’t ask as much of me this past season. He was really kind, and I really appreciate it.

Colin Jost, left, and Michael Che on “Weekend Update” on “Saturday Night Live” on Saturday, March 11, 2023. Che has been doing “Weekend Update” for 12 years, as has Jost.

(Will Heath / NBC)

Your stand-up persona is definitely more thoughtful and open-minded than your “Weekend Update” one. Are you conscious of revealing yourself onstage or just thinking about what’s funny?

They tell you in the criminal world that the longer you talk to the police the more chances there are you’re going to reveal something. And I feel like it’s true for comedy, too. A lot of the stuff that I do is just thoughts that we haven’t said out loud and explored yet. I start with the thought, and if I can get a joke, a one liner out of the thought, that’s then I start to explore it onstage. I only write one line because I can’t write in a vacuum. I need to be able to listen to see what an audience gives me; otherwise, I only know how it makes me feel.

You open this special with that riff on Charlie Kirk’s murder. Your audience is not filled with Turning Point members, but people still may be hesitant to laugh. Are you starting there to challenge yourself or challenge your audience, or is it just because you think it’s funny?

I think all three of those things can be true. Those jokes are funny, but it is hard to laugh at. That’s the sort of feat I seek to pull off, to make people laugh about things that they’re not necessarily expecting to hear without being gross and gratuitous. I did those jokes on Shane Gillis’ show and his audience reacted favorably.

None of this is to make any kind of larger point other than I want you to laugh at the things that horrify you. It’s just horrifying on the surface so people think you can’t make a joke about it. People are afraid of the attempt. And I say, “Well, what about this one?” I do like that.

Then you move on to the R-word and the N-word. Are you simply pushing buttons for laughs or pushing people to think about their own biases and preconceptions about language and their political sensibilities?

I don’t want to let words dictate my next emotions. I want you to put the responsibility of self-control on yourself. People are going to say nasty things literally just to get a rise out of you, and it’s up to you to decide how you’re going to handle that. Also, I’m trying to be consistent. If I start with jokes about Charlie Kirk, but then somebody wants to call me the N-word, I can’t say, “Well, that’s crossing the line.” Right now there ain’t no more lines. We’re in a culture war and bombs are going to fly. So let’s see who’s got the stomach for it.

When you refer to a guy buying you drinks in a bar as “visibly gay,” the audience gets uncomfortably quiet in a way. How do you feel when they hush over a line like that?

With a lot of these jokes it’s like dribbling a football, you just don’t know where it’s going to land. But I like putting people on their heels and being a Black comic of my generation, they expect the joke to go one way because they’ve heard the jokes that come from others so they’re apprehensive. I expect them to be apprehensive and then talk them through it. When the joke lands differently with a punchline they’re not expecting, they’re pleasantly surprised.

As swiftly as Barry Manilow returned to the stage following a health-related hiatus, he has stepped away.

On Friday, Manilow cut his concert short just two songs after it began. The 83-year-old crooner abruptly told the crowd to talk among themselves as he walked off stage, according to concertgoers who detailed the incident on social media. The curtain dropped, and a few moments later the audience was told the show was a wrap. Manilow’s performance slated for Saturday was subsequently nixed.

The day before, on Thursday, the “Copacabana” singer had returned after a six-week break to perform at the International Theater at the Westgate Las Vegas Resort & Casino, telling the audience, “I’m back!” Manilow appeared to be spry and energetic throughout the show. “God, I feel like I’m a teenage idol again,” he joked when a couple of audience members tossed underwear onto the stage. He picked up a pair of full-coverage briefs and asked if they needed to go to the laundry, then a pink lacy thong and joked, “I’ll keep this pair.”

“After a triumphant welcome-back concert on Thursday, Barry got hit with bronchitis and had to cancel his Friday and Saturday shows,” reps for Manilow told Paste Magazine.

Last year, Manilow revealed that he had been diagnosed with lung cancer and that surgery would require him to postpone several performances. In May, he told The Times that, since he had surgery, he was getting winded just walking down the hallway. “Ninety minutes of screaming in tune, which is what I do for a living — I’m not up for that yet,” he said at the time. “I will be, but it’s taking a long time to get my voice back. They warned me that I’d have to learn to breathe again. So these days, I get up, I go to my piano and I try to be creative. Before I know it, the afternoon’s over.”

The star returned to the stage in June following a six-month hiatus, in support of his latest album, “What a Time,” his first LP loaded with new material in almost 15 years.

But in August, Manilow canceled shows because of vocal and technical problems before telling fans he needed to pause. “We just finished a fantastic summer tour, 29 shows in 68 days,” the singer said. “The shows were fantastic. The audiences were fantastic. And I sounded fantastic. But it seems that we were pushing a little too hard.

“Now we all need to sit down and shut up,” Manilow said.

Venice, Telluride and Toronto have wrapped, and the New York Film Festival is winding down. Ovations have been meticulously timed. Existential crises have been parsed, not including the trauma induced by Tom Cruise’s “Digger,” which prudently skipped the festivals to delay, if only for a couple of weeks, the poisonous word of mouth from seeping out. (It’s still well worth seeing.)

And there have been, of course, prizes, including a Netflix movie, the Spanish maximalist melodrama “La Bola Negra,” winning Toronto’s People’s Choice Award. That’s a first for the streamer, which means we will again be asking the question: Can a Netflix film finally win the best picture Oscar?

If you’ve seen “The Odyssey,” you probably know the answer to that question. But with more than five months (!) until the 99th Academy Awards, it’s a bit early for ironclad guarantees, even if it feels like it would take the winds of Poseidon to blow “The Odyssey’s” best picture campaign off course.

But it’s not too soon to roll out a first set of Oscar power rankings for best picture. With apologies to “Obsession,” “Fjord,” “Possible Love,” “You Can See Everything,” “Elsinore,” and whatever other movies you love (or look forward to loving), let’s start counting.

10. ‘Tender Loving Care’

(Joseph Lynn / Thin Man Films / Bleecker Street)

Because of ongoing health issues, Mike Leigh has said that this warm and wrenching drama will be his last movie. If so, it’d be quite the capper to a career that has netted him seven Oscar nominations, five for his screenplays and two for direction. Yes, only one of his movies, “Secrets & Lies,” has been nominated for best picture. But “Tender Loving Care,” centered on two social service workers navigating the fraying social safety net and, in one case, anxiety about aging parents, possesses a bracing humanity full of compassion and urgency. It’s also quite funny. And it boasts a great cast, including newly minted Emmy winner Kate O’Flynn, as charming here as she is on “Widow’s Bay.” Leigh has more than earned a final curtain call with this one.

9. ‘Club Kid’

Jordan Firstman’s sincere, funny and genuinely moving debut feature has him playing a queer New York underground party promoter blindsided by the arrival of the 10-year-old son previously unknown to him. You could take issue with the uncomplicated perfection of the child, who has exquisite taste in music (Cocteau Twins, really?) and barely a trace of trauma despite the harrowing event that landed him in New York. But “Club Kid” is so assured and heartwarming that you can’t muster the energy to object. There’s probably going to be one feel-good movie nominated, and if it’s between this and “I Play Rocky,” I’ll cast my lot with the one that doesn’t rely so heavily on re-creating the familiar.

8. ‘All of a Sudden’

This 196-minute movie unfolds at, let’s just say, a leisurely pace, and includes a near-20-minute scene in which a character lays out the flaws of late-stage capitalism using a whiteboard. And it’s riveting. Or at least engaging. It’s certainly audacious, this drama about a hardworking director of a Parisian nursing home and the way a chance friendship changes her life. The Oscars’ best picture field now routinely includes two international movies, and Ryûsuke Hamaguchi’s dreamlike meditation on mortality and human connection feels like a sure bet to make the cut. Virginie Efira and Tao Okamoto shared the best actress prize at Cannes and merit attention from Oscar voters as well.

7. ‘The Debut’

Spoiler alert: One awards-season shoo-in is Julianne Moore winning every lead actress prize for her bravura work in this delightful Jesse Eisenberg comedy. Moore plays Mona, a meek, thoroughly unseen wife and mother who impulsively decides to audition for a community theater musical despite having no experience. The movie earned a huge response at its Telluride premiere, though there were some quibbles about the surprising, surreal turns the story takes. C’mon. Isn’t that precisely what we want from a film? With Moore, co-star Paul Giamatti, Eisenberg’s screenplay and original song (Eisenberg wrote several numbers for the film’s fictional musical) assured spots, a best picture nod feels undeniable.

6. ‘The Invite’

(Atsushi Nishijima / A24)

Olivia Wilde’s dinner-party dramedy boasts a killer quartet — Wilde and Seth Rogen as longtime marrieds nursing resentments, Penélope Cruz and Edward Norton playing their upstairs neighbors — and expert direction from Wilde, who navigates the movie’s tonal shifts with authority. It’s wickedly funny and unsentimental and pulls off a bittersweet ending that’s ambiguous enough to keep you talking long after the film ends. One of the year’s most satisfying pleasures.

5. ‘Project Hail Mary’

(Jonathan Olley / Amazon MGM Studios)

Speaking of endings, how many did “Project Hail Mary” have? Two? Three? I lost count. And it doesn’t matter. This was the upbeat end-of-the-world movie that audiences needed at a time when the possibility of human extinction feels uncomfortably real. In a year full of Spielberg knockoffs (and an uneven movie from the man himself), this will be the one left standing.

4. ‘Wild Horse Nine’

(Diego Araya Corvalan / Searchlight Pictures)

Martin McDonagh’s melancholy irreverence plays well with Oscar voters. His last two movies, “Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri” and “The Banshees of Inisherin,” earned best picture nominations and a combined 16 nods. “Wild Horse Nine,” a biting buddy dramedy about two mismatched CIA assassins (John Malkovich and Sam Rockwell), should continue the filmmaker’s success and may even catapult Malkovich to a long-overdue Oscar. At the very least, it gave him his best role in decades.

3. ‘La Bola Negra’

The filmmakers, Javier Calvo and Javier Ambrossi, are talented and charismatic, former romantic partners who still work together because that’s how Europeans roll. Los Javis (they even have a fun nickname) won the directing prize at Cannes, the first of several festivals that their movie conquered, culminating in that audience award at Toronto. With its three interconnected stories that follow queer men through nearly a century of Spanish history, “La Bola Negra” has an epic feel and emotional payoff that could carry it far. Netflix is all in, opening it in select theaters Oct. 16 and giving it an exclusive 46-day theatrical window, the longest it has afforded any movie. We’ll see if that puts it into the cultural conversation in a way that has eluded other Netflix contenders.

2. ‘Dune: Part Three’

Can Denis Villeneuve’s third and final “Dune” movie, which hasn’t screened widely for press, take the “Lord of the Rings” trilogy path to a best picture victory? If there’s resistance to giving Christopher Nolan back-to-back best picture winners, the greatest threat might come from a movie occupying the same lane, an auteur-driven epic lauded by critics and embraced by audiences. The second (and superior) “Dune” won just two Oscars, compared to the six taken by 2021’s “Dune: Part One.” Perhaps voters were playing the long game.

1. ‘The Odyssey’

(Melinda Sue Gordon / Universal Pictures)

Maybe you saw it when it opened in July, contributing to its $1.75-billion box office. Maybe you’re still trying to see it in Imax 70 mm, the way God (i.e., Christopher Nolan) intended. Maybe you agree with translator Emily Wilson, who thinks Nolan’s movie “lacks psychological, emotional, political and ethical depth” and that its writing is “abysmal.” Whichever side you’re on, “The Odyssey” is probably going to sweep through the Oscars, owing to its craft and thrilling showmanship, its stellar acting and that moment when Odysseus’ dog recognizes his long-absent master and wags his tail before heading off to Elysian Fields.

Barry Manilow has returned to the stage after taking a break following his summer tour.

Manilow performed at the International Theater at the Westgate Las Vegas Resort & Casino on Thursday night, telling the audience, “This is the first time back in a long time. I have some medical problems, but I’m back!”

The audience cheered and a couple of crowd members tossed underwear onto the stage. He picked up a pair of full-coverage briefs and asked if they needed to go to the laundry, and then a pink lacy thong and joked, “I’ll keep this pair.”

“God, I feel like I’m a teenage idol again.”

Last year, Manilow revealed that he had been diagnosed with lung cancer and that surgery would require him to postpone several performances. The star returned to the stage in June following a six-month hiatus, in support of his latest album, “What a Time,” his first LP loaded with new material in almost 15 years.

But in August, he canceled shows because of vocal and technical problems before telling fans he needed to pause. “We just finished a fantastic summer tour, 29 shows in 68 days,” the singer said. “The shows were fantastic. The audiences were fantastic. And I sounded fantastic. But it seems that we were pushing a little too hard.

“Now we all need to sit down and shut up,” Manilow said. “So, we’re going to take a break until we return to the Westgate Las Vegas on Oct. 8. When I’ll be singing like a bird. I hope to see you then.”

The “Copacabana” singer is slated to hit the stage again on Friday evening.

Winner of the Palme d’Or at this year’s Cannes Film Festival, still among the most prestigious prizes any movie can claim, “Fjord” aims for both a quiet, subtle power and the directness of a sledgehammer. It speaks to the skill of Romanian writer-director Cristian Mungiu, along with the star power and acting prowess of its leads, Sebastian Stan and Renate Reinsve, that the film achieves those goals, creating a mix of feelings including ambivalence, shock and dismay over what people will do to one another in the name of a common good.

Having recently moved from Bucharest to a remote village in Norway, a conservative, devoutly Christian couple and their five young children have begun to insert themselves into the fabric of their new community. Mihai, the Romanian father (Stan), is a little intense and gloomy; Lisbet (Reinsve), a Norwegian, is shy but kind, and their focus seems clearly on what they see as a warm, loving homelife.

But when their children are suddenly taken into protective custody over allegations of abuse, they find their world turned upside down. Eventually, the father asks a prosecutor with equal parts anger and exasperation, “Am I on trial for my beliefs?”

The official answer to that question, more or less, is both no and yes. The government’s position is that the children cannot be placed back into a home where they will be harmed, whether that means physical violence or indoctrination in ideology counter to that of the state’s, such as no dancing, no internet and that being gay is wrong.

Based on actual events involving a Romanian family in Norway in 2015, “Fjord” is purposefully designed to make a viewer — any viewer — question their assumptions and predispositions regarding the relationship between personal liberty and state power. While this may all sound a bit reactionary or like shooting fish in a barrel, Mungiu wisely complicates matters.

The filmmaker, a previous Palme winner for his 2007 abortion drama “4 Weeks, 3 Months and 2 Days,” presumably knows that the majority of the audience for his international art-house domestic drama will be more aligned with the liberal, progressive politics of the Norwegian state than the religious, conservative couple at the story’s center. So most audiences will automatically be put into the purposefully uncomfortable position of siding with people they would never see themselves inclined to agree with. It is Mungiu’s sharpest and most illuminating maneuver.

Once the story moves to the courtroom, “Fjord” begins to resemble 2023’s “Anatomy of a Fall” — another Cannes-winning champ released in the U.S. by boutique distributor Neon — for the way in which it allows American viewers a glimpse into another country’s legal system. It comes off as more conversational and slightly more chaotic than what we are used to in our own domestic courtroom procedurals. As the government prosecutor, Norwegian actor Christian Rubeck gives a smug and condescending tone to nearly every word out of his mouth, becoming the closest thing the movie has to a villain.

Having previously appeared together in the offbeat comedy “A Different Man,” Stan and Reinsve keep the story from feeling like a dour exercise. As Mihai, Stan puts across a low-simmering rage at being put in the position of defending himself at all, while grappling with how to maintain what he sees as his natural role of patriarchal control. Reinsve, known for more outwardly dynamic roles in “The Worst Person in the World” and “Sentimental Value,” here conveys a subdued nuance as Lisbet struggles with understanding her place between her husband and her children.

The moment when the couple’s infant child is taken from them by the authorities is devastating, each of them capturing a sense of helpless isolation from themselves, their community and each other.

Special mention should also go to the performances by Vanessa Ceban and Jonathan Ciprian Breazu as the couple’s teenage children, also to Henrikke Lund-Olsen as a neighbor girl who becomes close to them. These young performers are the film’s secret weapon, since in practical, lived terms they bear the brunt of the existential hand-wringing on the part of all the adults. And too often they become an afterthought.

The poster and key image from the film is a smiling snapshot of Mihai and Lisbet with their children, a seemingly happy family. Or are they? For a movie so steeped in ambiguity and nuance, it also often states its case quite plainly, such as when the couple’s lawyer says no one can really know what goes on in another family. The film asks one to look closer, not just at others but also at one’s own accepted opinions, assumptions and preconceptions. But it ends up with an outcome that feels as sadly inevitable as it is heartbreaking — an ethical knot that cannot be undone.

The minuscule yet distinctly humanoid figure of a fairy flaps its wings as it flies into the ancient ruins of a bygone kingdom. Guiding a young heroine to meet a mysterious faun, for a moment, the fantastical creature looks as though it might cross the threshold of the screen.

It is in that instant that Guillermo del Toro — wearing 3D glasses while sitting at the Academy Museum of Motion Pictures’ imposing David Geffen Theater for a tech check — chuckles with pride as if to say, “Look at that.” Later that night, almost 1,000 fans were transported into his entrancing 2006 masterwork, “Pan’s Labyrinth,” (a.k.a. “El Laberinto del Fauno”) at the premiere of the new 3D version.

Back in theaters across the country on Friday (which is also Del Toro’s 62nd birthday), “Pan’s Labyrinth” is celebrating its 20th anniversary with a new 4K restoration, available in both 2D and in the aforementioned 3D transfer that Del Toro himself oversaw.

Doug Jones, left, plays the faun that beckons to Ofelia, right, played by Ivana Baquero in “Pan’s Labyrinth.”

(Scott A. Garfitt / Andreea Alexandru / Invision / AP)

As brutal as it is spellbinding, the Mexican filmmaker’s modern classic unfolds during the Spanish Civil War — more precisely, in 1944 — as young Ofelia (Ivana Baquero) and her pregnant mother move into the camp run by the ruthless Capt. Vidal (Sergi López).

Amid the bloodshed, Ofelia discovers an underworld of magical entities, including the alluring faun (Doug Jones), who convinces her that she is a princess who must reclaim her royal status.

By winning three Academy Awards and being nominated for two more — one for Del Toro’s screenplay, the other for foreign language film, representing Mexico — “Pan’s Labyrinth” signified an artistic watershed moment in Del Toro’s career. These accolades came after he directed two comic-book adaptations for Hollywood studios: “Blade II” and “Hellboy.”

Beyond the recognition, the experience felt spiritually transformative for the Guadalajara native; not the least because of the hurdles he overcame to bring it to fruition.

“‘Pan’s’ marks a big divide in what I did before and what I did after. I became invested in a different way in filmmaking,” Del Toro tells me. “I don’t know how to describe it, but filmmaking became a religion, as opposed to something that I could do. It fused with me.”

Though the film is now regarded as one of the greatest works of the 21st century, when Del Toro set out to make it, the industry was not receptive to his ideas.

“Everything I thought I wanted to say about war in ‘Devil’s Backbone’ seemed obsolete, because we had gone through 9/11 and the world had changed,” Del Toro recalls. “I didn’t want to do an American movie. I was being offered a lot of comic- book movies and said, ‘I got to do a companion piece for “Devil’s Backbone” no matter what.’ But nobody wanted to do the movie.”

One key objection was the mature tone of the narrative, in which the child protagonist is directly confronted and endangered by the evils derived from fascist ideologies.

“They said, ‘If it’s a fairy tale then it should be a family movie,’ because I’d been offered ‘Narnia’ a year before by [former Walden Media chief executive] Cary Granat,” Del Toro tells me.

“He said, ‘Why don’t you do ‘Narnia’?’ And I said, ‘Because I want to do my own version of a fairy tale where the lion doesn’t resurrect and it’s about a pitiless world against a boundless imagination.’”

Del Toro’s interest in stories where the woes of children are taken seriously was spurred by ‘Los Olvidados,’ Luis Buñuel’s classic from 1950, about a group of neglected children surviving a harsh reality in the streets of Mexico City.

“When I saw ‘Los Olvidados,’ I was in my early teens,” says Del Toro. “I thought every time somebody told a story about a child that was unsentimental and that was a little brutal — it could be ‘The Spirit of the Beehive’ or ‘Los Olvidados’ or ‘The Red Balloon’ or even Bobby Driscoll in ‘The Window’ — whenever you saw a child in real danger, a child in jeopardy, a child in moral dilemma, like ‘The Fallen Idol,’ I really was transported.”

Children, Del Toro believes, are often invisible to adults. They are “cartoons” in the eyes of “regular adults.” Thus, when his mother started reading child psychology books to better understand a young Del Toro, he read them as well, so that he could try to manipulate her.

Del Toro laughs mischievously as he remembers his antics. “I would do exactly what the book said, and I realized I could work within that preconception and make my grandma buy me horror comic books or make my mom allow me to miss school,” Del Tor recalls. “Ofelia is very strong. That was the point of the movie for me. I wanted to see the clash of wills between a young kid and a fascist captain, and I wanted to see the kid win.”

(Teresa Isasi / Picturehouse)

Del Toro’s mother, Guadalupe, died in 2022. But she lives on in cinema, thanks to the 1985 landmark queer Mexican film “Doña Herlinda and Her Son,” by director Jaime Humberto Hermosillo, where she played the titular Doña Herlinda.

And if you look closely, you’ll also find Del Toro in the movie, which was filmed in Guadalajara.

“I have a cameo with my ex-wife in it. Lorenza. She’s the receptionist and I appear dancing in Chapala, but I’m super thin, so you can never recognize me,” he says. “I’m dancing with a girl that I liked, but I was already in the throes of dating the one who became my wife, Lorenza.”

Then there was the question of the picture’s language. Del Toro wouldn’t waver on making “Pan’s Labyrinth” in Spanish.

“Many of them said, ‘We’ll do it if you do it in English — set in Spain, same ending, the girl dies, no problem, but in English.’ And I said, ‘I can’t. It’s not true to the movie.’ I’m not saying you can never do that, but it’s always this ‘Zorro’ thing like, ‘Are you in a hurry, señor?’ or ‘Come to the hacienda,’” he says, doing a funny, exaggerated accent on the Spanish words.

“If you’re trying to contrast reality versus fantasy, the reality has to be in its language, in its location,” Del Toro adds, emphasizing his resolve to make the movie in his native tongue. “I thought, ‘This is about the reality clashing with the fantasy. I have to make the reality stylized, but I don’t want to do it in English, because then everything is a construct. Everything is just an idea.’”

In 2026, the film’s bilingual appeal is a major component of the marketing strategy that Cineverse — the entertainment company that Del Toro approached to handle the restoration and rerelease of “Pan’s Labyrinth” — is implementing to reach audiences across the country.

“A lot of our messages are in English and in Spanish. The messaging around the making of the 3D — Guillermo likes to say ‘F— AI,’ but we positioned it as ‘Made for humans, for humans. Hecho por humanos, para humanos,’” says Yolanda Macias, chief motion pictures officer at Cineverse. “That’s a really strong message that has resonated with our fans.”

A Mexican American woman whose parents emigrated from Jalisco, Macias sees “Pan’s Labyrinth” as a timeless movie that’s as relevant today as it was two decades ago.

“We are not ignoring a very important segment of the audience, which is the Latino population who have always, in my experience, shown an interest in creators from Mexico or from Latin America,” Macias says. “And we are so proud of Guillermo for being that person for this audience.”

When first envisioning “Pan’s Labyrinth,” Del Toro found himself grappling with existential concerns related to the meaning and relevance of what each person leaves behind when they are gone. Can anything we mortals create stand the test of time? Does it matter?

(Gina Ferazzi / Los Angeles Times)

“One of the things I was going through was I thought, ‘Is making movies worth it? You give them years and years and years, and then they just move down the current into the oblivion of the culture,’” Del Toro says. “A central theme in the film is, ‘Can we give our lives to something that doesn’t change the world?’ That’s why the movie ends with a little flower blooming in a dried tree. That’s all that is left of her story in the real world.”

His films will one day too become flowers left not only as proof of his time on earth, but perhaps as messages for those to come who have the sensibility to appreciate them.

“You can say, ‘Ofelia lived in the other kingdom,’ but in the real world, there’s only one tiny flower. And that’s why it says, ‘For those that know where to look.’ Because that’s what we do as filmmakers. When you ‘discover’ a filmmaker, you say, ‘I discovered this guy Fellini.’ Well, he’s been there for a while, but sure. Or you discover Miyazaki or Mamoru Oshii … They’re continents, but they are only in maps that are very secret. I like that image.”

So long as they are found, Del Toro doesn’t worry that much about how people encounter them.

“[Films] live on to a certain degree. Like when we were shooting ‘Frankenstein,’ I said, ‘We will live forever in the Netflix queue,’” he recalls, trying not to laugh. “Theatrical is the best. There’s no comparison. But I remember my childhood, I saw all the Universal monster movies on TV, and they were monumentally important for me. There’s something to be said about accessibility that is also important.”

I agree with him — and mention that some of the most revelatory movie-watching experiences for me as a young cinephile happened thanks to bootleg DVDs, which I would buy as a teen in Mexico City.

“I love the pirate DVDs in Mexico,” says Del Toro with a laugh. “I’ll tell you a little story: We went to promote ‘Hellboy’ in Mexico City, and we were having coffee. A guy came in and said, ‘You want to buy movies?’ And he had ‘Hellboy’ already, opening week … and it didn’t have a cover either!”

Another distinction that “Pan’s Labyrinth” holds is that it was the last film in Spanish that Del Toro directed. But that could change, he says; he still has another project he’d like to make in Mexico.

“I actually have an idea that I would love to shoot, but I want to make it a drama. I don’t want to make it a fantasy movie,” he explains. “I have a great story that I want to shoot one day. It’s a kidnapping scene from three points of view. The victim, the people doing the pickup, and another component that I will not reveal.” (Del Toro’s late father, Federico, was famously kidnapped in Guadalajara in the late 1990s.)

The thought of Del Toro making another Mexican film in the future, reminded me that the original screenplay for his period ghost story, “The Devil’s Backbone,” was set in Mexico, but a lack of funding forced him to shift the production to Spain, with the help of Pedro Almodóvar’s company El Deseo.

“It was about a traveling circus during the [Mexican] revolution with a mother, a father and a boy. It was full of jarred fetuses. The boy was a clown, and the father was a magician. I was trying to do Bergman’s ‘Hour of the Wolf’ or ‘The Magician’ — modest but creepy,” he explains. “But it was very different. I had the orphanage, I had the legend of the fetuses and a ghost; and I had the devil live in the monastery.”

In any language, Del Toro is a fierce advocate against the use of generative AI in artistic creation. He believes that anything touched by humans has a better chance to endure. The love audiences still hold for “Pan’s Labyrinth” is a testament to this sentiment.

“[Pan’s Labyrinth”] is very truthful to who I was. And whenever you are able to be truthful, people feel that it matters to you,” Del Toro says. “And when you think it matters to someone, you cherish it.”