audience

Here’s to the ones who dream.

The anthemic thesis of “La La Land” — the Ryan Gosling/Emma Stone movie musical celebrating its 10th anniversary — became a moment of musical reality in May when a 21-year-old student in Sydney, Australia, was plucked from the crowd at a live concert of the film during intermission. Sterling Nasa proceeded to stun composer-conductor Justin Hurwitz and the 2,000-person audience with his flawless, impromptu performance.

“Jumping into that concert in Sydney, and having an earpiece and seeing all this, was a little bit crazy,” says Nasa with well-mannered modesty, “but we somehow got through it.”

Conductor Justin Hurwitz with pianist Sterling Nasa performing the soundtrack of “La La Land” at the Greek Theatre.

(Ariana Drehsler / For The Times)

Nasa is sitting backstage at the Greek Theatre between rehearsals, preparing to make his Los Angeles debut. After that remarkable incident, an international feel-good news story, Hurwitz invited Nasa to fly out and play the entire concert at the anniversary screening here, in Griffith Park, where many of the film’s iconic scenes were shot.

“He’s playing better than most of the professional pianists I’ve worked with,” says Hurwitz, who regularly conducts “La La Land in Concert.”

“He’s nailing it,” Hurwitz explains during a break. “Those Sebastian solos, the ones that Ryan Gosling plays in the movie, he’s playing those as perfectly and cleanly as I’ve heard them in a very long time. Very few of the pianists I work with around the world — and they’re all great professionals — but very few of them play it this well in sync with the picture.”

Saturday’s rehearsals took place under a scorching sun. Half of the assembled musicians played on the film’s original soundtrack; star trumpet soloist Bijon Watson can even be seen wailing in the Lighthouse jazz scenes. Sitting in the midst of these veteran L.A. sessions players, Nasa looked focused but confident, his youthful face belying his easy, fleet-fingered playing.

Pianist Sterling Nasa heads to the stage Saturday after intermission during the 10th anniversary show featuring a full orchestra and jazz band performing the “La La Land” soundtrack at the Greek Theatre.

(Ariana Drehsler / For The Times)

He flew in from Sydney on Thursday, leaving a rainy Australian winter for a California heat wave. The initial jet leg was rough, he says, but he had mostly adjusted by Saturday. Hurwitz took some one-on-one practice time with him before the orchestra arrived, and Nasa had also been practicing his part for six weeks.

Nasa (an Anglicized Lebanese name) has been playing piano since he was 3. His parents encouraged his musical education, and he’s performed enough in bands and local musical theater not to suffer from stage fright. He also plays the bagpipes, and has played with 300 bagpipers for 10,000 people at the Royal Edinburgh Military Tattoo at Edinburgh Castle.

“I’ve always had a bit of an inkling that I’d love to be a musician,” Nasa says, “or if I can find some opportunity in the artistic world, or in musical theater or in music, that I would love too. But I did sort of get the ‘real’ degree.”

He was finishing his studies in international relations at the University of Sydney when the cosmic moment happened in May. His friend Scarlett was the one who enthusiastically pushed Nasa’s hand up when Hurwitz, panicking, asked if anyone in the audience was an “amazing sight reader.”

“I owe so much of this to her,” Nasa says. “I really probably would not have done it.”

The 10th anniversary show of “La La Land” featured a full orchestra and jazz band.

(Ariana Drehsler / For The Times)

He played the entire second half of the concert that night. (The hired pianist fell ill and had to leave.) Nasa says he thinks Australians were inclined to root for an underdog — “the audience that night really just wanted it to work” — but for this big L.A. moment, “I think now there’s obviously a bit more of an expectation.”

As the twilight concert began, Hurwitz addressed the sold-out Greek Theatre — a lively crowd filled with yellow dresses — and surprised them by announcing that the “kid from Sydney” was here to play the entire show. Nasa absorbed his ovation, then took his bench in the middle of the orchestra with a little monitor displaying the movie on his piano.

He played the melancholy strains of “Mia and Sebastian’s Theme,” a solo piano motif that Gosling’s character plays throughout the film; he accompanied their flirty “City of Stars” duet, and he performed all of Sebastian’s acrobatic jazz solos — many of them meticulously synced to corresponding shots of fingers on a keyboard.

“La La Land” plays on the screen at the Greek Theatre while an orchestra and jazz band accompany the film.

(Ariana Drehsler / For The Times)

The film itself was projected over the stage, but monitors on either side showed Nasa and the other live musicians. A young woman in front of me watched his hands, perfectly aligned with Gosling’s, with her jaw dropped. Nasa never missed a note, and he received another outsized ovation after the rousing end credits.

“I’ve thought a lot about opportunity, and how there’s so much talent in the world,” says Hurwitz, reflecting on the moment in Sydney. “And there’s also so much lost talent in the world, talent that just isn’t realized. And I just love that there was this talented guy, who’s a great musician, but he was in school studying something else — because he didn’t know if he could or should go into music. And then there was this opportunity, and he took it, and he showed everybody — and he showed himself — that he can do it.”

Nasa says he’s not sure what he’ll do now that he’s graduated, but one thing he’s interested in is composing for musical theater — or possibly scoring films.

“Spider-Man: Brand New Day” swung into the top spot at the box office and scored one of the highest-grossing opening weekends with an estimated haul of $355 million in the U.S. and Canada, far surpassing studio and analyst expectations.

The Sony Pictures film also brought in $572 million internationally for a worldwide total of $927 million, according to studio estimates.

The movie’s haul now ranks as the second-biggest domestic and global opening ever, surpassed only by Walt Disney Co. and Marvel Studios’ “Avengers: Endgame” in 2019.

The film, which stars Tom Holland and Zendaya, is produced by Sony-owned Columbia Pictures, Marvel Studios and Pascal Pictures. Its production budget was about $225 million.

Marvel Studios President and “Spider-Man” producer Kevin Feige called the debut “truly phenomenal.”

“We are grateful to audiences everywhere for coming out and experiencing our film the way it was meant to be seen,” he said in a statement Sunday. “This debut reflects the enduring power of Marvel’s characters, and the connection they continue to have with fans around the world — and, as audiences saw, it sets up exciting things to come.”

Anticipation for the movie was building for months, as robust pre-sales indicated high interest in Spidey’s return to the big screen.

The previous film in the franchise, 2021’s “Spider-Man: No Way Home,” had one of the biggest domestic debuts on record with $260 million.

But it came during the depths of a COVID-19 surge and against very little competition at the box office. That film also reunited all three Spider-Men — Holland, Tobey Maguire and Andrew Garfield — in one time-bending, multiverse storyline, a move “Spider-Man” producer Amy Pascal described as 20 years in the making.

This time around, “Spider-Man” was up against the juggernaut holdover Universal Pictures’ Christopher Nolan film, “The Odyssey,” which came in second at the domestic box office with $51 million on its way to a global total of $911.4 million.

The strong performance of “The Odyssey,” as well as the billion-dollar-grossing “The Super Mario Galaxy Movie” and “Michael” earlier this year, helped push Universal over the $4-billion global box office mark this weekend, the first studio to do so this year.

Walt Disney Co. and Pixar’s “Toy Story 5” came in third with $6.3 million to add to its worldwide total of more than $1.06 billion. Universal and Illumination’s “Minions & Monsters” ($5.8 million) and Disney’s live-action “Moana” ($5.3 million) rounded out the top five this weekend, according to data from Rentrak.

“‘Spider-Man: Brand New Day’ is fundamentally a movie about friendship, about the balm of connection in all our lives,” Sony Pictures Motion Picture Group Chairman Tom Rothman said in a statement Sunday. He added that this theme resonates with “audiences of all ages and all around the world.”

BERLIN — An experiment with artificial intelligence at the famed annual Richard Wagner festival in the southeastern German town of Bayreuth drew boos from the audience after producing a staging that appeared to leave some spectators confused.

Curator Marcus Lobbes and his team were greeted with boos and whistles as they took to the stage at the end of Saturday evening’s performance of “Götterdämmerung,” German news agency DPA reported. However, there was warm applause for the singers and musicians, and particularly for conductor Christian Thielemann.

Festival organizers said ahead of the performance that it would be the first time AI took part on stage at the event, “not as a character, but as an image-generating force.” They said that singers would be “the fixed point within a visually seething cosmos of light, texture, history, and association, amidst projections that erupt, constantly shift, and merge into one another.”

The AI-assisted projections included scenes from previous performances of Wagner’s “Ring” cycle and historical themes, and drew from images preselected by Lobbes, the director of the Academy for Theater and Digitality in Dortmund, and his team.

The collage that the technology projected on stage puzzled the audience, DPA reported, with images including late former German Chancellor Helmut Kohl, the towers of the World Trade Center after the Sept. 11, 2001, attacks, and a special postage stamp marking German reunification in 1990.

The festival website said that “every performance will be unique — because the images and associations never stand still.” Two more performances are scheduled.

Almost five years ago, “Spider-Man: No Way Home” swung into theaters in the teeth of a COVID-19 surge and did what almost nothing else could that winter: drove cooped-up moviegoers to cinemas and opened to one of the biggest domestic debuts on record, pulling in $260 million.

This weekend, Peter Parker is back — a little older, more world-weary and facing a far less forgiving market.

The genre’s floor has dropped out since then.

Annual box office revenue for superhero movies is down, on average, about $3.5 billion, about half of what it was during the pre-pandemic years of 2017 to 2019, according to data from the FranchiseRe industry newsletter. Sony Pictures is betting that more real-world stunts, a relatable narrative and Spidey’s lasting popularity are enough to put “Spider-Man: Brand New Day” on the other side of that trend.

Whatever the approach, the commercial appetite is there. Pre-sales for the film, which stars Tom Holland and Zendaya, have been robust, and industry tracking estimates an opening weekend haul of at least $195 million in the U.S. and Canada. If that holds, it would be the year’s biggest domestic debut, beating Walt Disney Co. and Pixar’s “Toy Story 5” ($159.7 million). The movie cost about $225 million to produce and is produced by Sony’s Columbia Pictures, Marvel Studios and Pascal Pictures.

“This movie takes a grounded, emotional approach to the story, and I actually believe that’s what audiences are hungry for,” said Tom Rothman, chairman of Sony’s motion picture group. “It’s got all the whiz-bang wow visuals. But at its heart, it’s more a superperson movie, if you will, rather than a superhero movie.”

“Brand New Day” picks up where the last film left off. A spell has erased Peter Parker from the world’s memory — the price of undoing the public exposure of his identity — leaving him a stranger to his best friend, Ned, and to MJ. Without those friendships, he pours himself into his crime-fighting work to stave off his loneliness.

That feeling of being adrift without knowing where to turn is what the filmmakers built the movie around.

“We’re all really isolated from each other,” said Amy Pascal, one of the film’s producers who has overseen the entire franchise. “That kind of longing for connection between people and not knowing how to make it happen and living in a world where we become more and more remote, matched the moment that people are going through.”

The smaller scale was also a reaction to what came before it. “No Way Home” brought back Tobey Maguire and Andrew Garfield in a time-bending multiverse crossover, and there was no topping it.

“That was a movie that was 20 years in the making,” Pascal said. “There was no way to be bigger than that. So we went smaller. We went internal instead of external, and we found the bigness in that.”

Peter Parker’s isolation is what drew director Destin Daniel Cretton, who made 2021’s “Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings” and was an executive producer on the Marvel Television series “Wonder Man.” He said he related to the pain and tragedy the character goes through, and to the idea of a superhero story that felt like it was happening in a real place.

The production’s rule of thumb became trying to execute scenes practically, in front of a lens, wherever possible.

That included a tank chase shot largely on a street in Glasgow, Scotland, on the first day of filming, complete with a rig that let an actor swing with explosions going off behind him. Thousands of people showed up to watch, which was “a big adrenaline rush on day one,” Cretton said.

A later set piece — Spider-Man against a group of red-clad ninjas known as the Hand — was shot at a former prison outside London.

Cretton’s insistence on real locations has an argument behind it. At a moment when audiences want to know what goes into moviemaking and are increasingly unsure whether the myriad images they’re looking at were generated by artificial intelligence, the answer is visible labor.

“Right now, more than ever, I think it’s important for audiences to really feel that people made the thing that they’re watching, and people went through an experience to make the thing they’re watching,” said Cretton, who grew up watching behind-the-scenes segments on his favorite DVDs. “All of that, I think, is just as important as the thing that they’re watching.”

Effects alone don’t carry a superhero movie — or any movie, for that matter — anymore, Cretton said.

“The action can be great, the [visual effects] can be fantastic, the explosions can be huge, but if there isn’t some type of emotional spine that connects with people where they are and what they’re going through, it’s just another big, explosive movie,” he said.

The slump itself isn’t in dispute. Many of Marvel’s newer films haven’t come close to the heights its predecessors once cleared, and this year, movies like Amazon MGM Studios’ “Masters of the Universe” and Warner Bros. and DC Studios’ “Supergirl” underperformed in theaters.

What’s driving it is contested.

“I don’t think it’s fatigue of the genre,” Rothman said. “I think it’s the audience wanting new things and less predictability.”

For Marvel, long treated as the genre’s gold standard, part of the problem was volume; a dense web of interconnected films and TV shows that made casual viewers feel like they had too much homework to do before a new premiere.

The likeliest near-term explanation for that estimated $195-million opening, though, may have less to do with tone than with supply and brand. “Brand New Day” is the first Marvel superhero film since last year’s “The Fantastic Four: First Steps,” and Spider-Man remains one of the most commercially durable characters in the genre.

The calendar is also less accommodating than it was. The latest “Spider-Man” installment opens against Christopher Nolan’s “The Odyssey” and holdovers including “Toy Story 5” — a considerably more crowded field than the thin, pandemic-era slate its predecessor benefited from on the way to $1.9 billion.

And the movie has a second job. With Disney and Marvel’s “Avengers: Doomsday” arriving at the end of the year, “Brand New Day” has to leave audiences wanting it.

“It’s got a lot riding on it,” said Steve Granelli, a teaching professor and division head of communication studies at Northeastern University. “Not just in terms of this being yet another ‘Spider-Man’ film, but also this being a huge storytelling device in the larger [Marvel franchise].”

Which is the tension at the center of the pitch. The filmmaking team went internal on purpose, and built a movie about a young man nobody remembers. It also has to set up the largest external event on Marvel’s calendar.

Eighty years ago, though the Arsenal of Democracy had vanquished the Axis and weathered a withering Depression, the recovering American people found themselves rich in bills but short on laughs. Enter Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis, who debuted together on July 25, 1946.

Unlike Laurel and Hardy, Abbott and Costello, or Hope and Crosby, who relied on tightly scripted setups, this disparate yet kindred duo captured America’s heart by being viscerally, uproariously and unpredictably wild.

Martin and Lewis were the founding fathers of an anarchic, side-splitting brand of comedy that combined pratfalls, ad-libbed wordplay and a sustained demolition of the fourth floor. Orson Welles observed that the duo’s combustible zaniness was so hilarious that it made you wet your pants.

The boys cavorted about the stage, kibitzing with bandleaders and the audience alike. In between trading impromptu quips, Martin and Lewis overturned tables, cut ties, sheared suits and spritzed seltzer on one and all.

The suave, dashingly handsome Italian crooner clowning around with his gawky, rubbery Jewish buddy brought the house down every time. It was nonstop, jocular pandemonium: Commedia dell’arte 2.0.

“Saturday Night Live,” Second City, David Letterman, Jerry Seinfeld and Adam Sandler all owe a debt to the artists who started life as Dino Crocetti and Joseph Levitch.

Martin and Lewis created a novus ordo seclorum, in its way innovating like America’s founders, spawning a new comedic order of the ages.

Their alchemy was as ineffable as it was infectious. Variety’s first review of the act noted, “All they do cannot be detailed, but virtually every bit of it is good for solid laughs.” Carl Reiner similarly declared: “I saw what I thought was the funniest ad-libbed thing I had ever seen. It was a riot, and we never stopped laughing.”

In their own madcap way, Dino and Jer epitomized Cicero’s notion that comedy is the imitation of life, the mirror of custom and the image of truth.

Martin and Lewis became the monarchs of all media, conquering radio, nightclubs, television and the silver screen. In 1948, they appeared on Ed Sullivan’s first television show, “Toast of the Town.” From 1950 to 1955, the Martin-and-Lewis-hosted “Colgate Comedy Hour” frequently bested Sullivan in the ratings.

When Hollywood beckoned, the boys answered the call, cavorting, cutting up and reconfiguring reality on the silver screen. They starred in 16 films, bringing their boisterous bromance to capacity-crowd movie theaters.

Though their big-screen adventures could not capture the comedic chaos of their stage act, Martin and Lewis transformed even the most pedestrian screenplay into box-office gold. As film critic Ciara Maloney explained, “Their brilliance shines through the weakest material: the ineffable, bewitching something between them — an intimacy, an immediacy, an ingenuity — frozen in amber for those of us who would never see it in the Copacabana.”

The essence of this duo was the outré interplay between the Prince and the Putz, the Leading Man and the Monkey. Though he was the comedian by trade, Lewis fully credited Martin as the “genius” of the pairing: “He kept the center. He was the spine of the act. And the monkey was constantly attached to that spine, on the spine, next to it.”

From “Sailor Beware” to “The Stooge,” “Living It Up” and “Artists and Models,” theirs was a comedy partnership that came to symbolize America. It is little wonder that presidential historian Tevi Troy called the 1950s “The Martin and Lewis Decade.”

However, many Americans didn’t see these two celebrities as distant icons. Film critic Jenna Ipcar has described how “a perfect comedy duo will make their audience feel like a lucky participant instead of just a passive observer, a welcome guest in a secret world.” Martin and Lewis embodied that ideal.

The boys’ bittersweet final performance took place at New York’s Copacabana on July 25, 1956. Exactly 10 years after their debut in Atlantic City, N.J., Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis had pioneered a new brand of comedy, soothed postwar America’s psyche and made a nation laugh again.

Rosario A. Iaconis, chairman of the Italic Institute of America, writes about Italy and its cultural influence. He is at work on a novel about Harry S. Truman.

Exploiting racism has been a profitable strategy in Hollywood since the dawn of filmmaking: 111 years ago, D.W. Griffith’s film “The Birth of a Nation” was incredibly popular and influential, while also being so racist that it was considered controversial even in its own day.

The industry saw immediately just how lucrative fear could be. More than a century later, there is always someone in the entertainment media willing to trade in racist tropes for money, as well as an audience ready to receive them.

Two new films, “Citizen Vigilante” and “Run, Fight, Hide: Infidels,” demonstrate that streaming platforms and social media no longer simply distribute controversial content but in fact thrive on content that provokes, polarizes and sustains attention, regardless of the social cost.

Both of these xenophobic and Islamophobic films are being pushed as “anti-woke” vehicles, deliberately engineered to bypass traditional critical reception and capitalize on a fractured media ecosystem. “Citizen Vigilante,” which features an American protagonist killing dark-skinned immigrants and Muslims in an unnamed European setting, was denied a rating certificate by the German government for inciting violence. Yet despite that determination, the film secured global reach through decentralized digital distribution and high-profile promotion from Elon Musk.

Similarly, “Run, Fight, Hide: Infidels” — a campus siege narrative evoking 1980s action film nostalgia that leans heavily into outdated, post-9/11 anxieties — relies on a built-in conservative media apparatus to guarantee financial returns. The film is produced by the conservative media figure Ben Shapiro and the Daily Wire, which he co-founded. It is a sequel to a 2020 film that was their film company’s premiere.

But while promoters of such films frame their work as a brave rebellion, the reality is much more sinister: rehashing 40-year-old tropes while invoking conspiracy theories of Muslims bringing sharia law to America, because outrage is cheap to produce and easy to monetize.

Stories matter. Stories shape how we see one another. They influence what we love, what we celebrate, whom we trust, whom we understand and whom we fear.

Since January, the Muslim Public Affairs Council has documented a sharp escalation in threats and attacks targeting Muslims and Islamic institutions across the United States, including vandalism, shootings, bomb threats, attempted assassinations and physical assaults. These are not isolated incidents. They reflect a broader climate in which dehumanizing representation increasingly manifests as real-world violence.

Entertainment and politics increasingly employ the same tactic as one another, recycling narratives of fear and “otherness” to mobilize audiences, voters and consumers. When political leaders encourage those narratives, as President Trump recently did by amplifying and commenting on a photo of young Muslim American students in hijab, they further normalize the same stereotypes that entertainment companies have learned to monetize.

Yet while the social costs continue to mount, the economic incentives remain firmly intact. “Citizen Vigilante” earned a 93% audience score on Rotten Tomatoes despite receiving just a 6% critics’ score. More tellingly, it quickly climbed to the top of Amazon’s and Apple TV’s paid video-on-demand charts.

And this isn’t just a Muslim and immigrant issue — and it’s not only about who is portrayed on screens, but also who is not. Representation has been backsliding, and audiences are left with fewer opportunities to see the reality and humanity of diverse communities, making them more vulnerable to fear-based narratives.

According to a 2026 report from the nonprofit Define American, which tracks representation across television and film, Latinos account for only 23% of immigrant characters represented on screen, even though they make up more than 40% of the immigrant population in the United States. In 2020, 50% of immigrants on screen were Latino.

The industry’s defense is that whitewashed and xenophobic films reflect audience demand. But the recent research by Define American challenges this assumption. Data show that nuanced, multidimensional storytelling, in which immigrants and minority characters are woven into the fabric of everyday narratives rather than tokenized or villainized, actually leads to greater audience engagement and deeper systemic understanding.

Entertainment doesn’t simply reflect culture; it teaches us who belongs within it. Studios, distributors, streaming platforms and filmmakers all have a responsibility to reject narratives that portray immigrants as enemies and instead embrace stories that reflect the diversity and complexity of our world. At the same time — as with voters — the power ultimately rests with consumers. The choice to demand storytelling that challenges prejudice rather than profits from it belongs to all of us.

Sue Obeidi is the senior vice president of the Muslim Public Affairs Council Hollywood Bureau. Jose Antonio Vargas is the founder of Define American.

Walt Disney Co.’s “Moana” lost its way at the box office this weekend as the company’s latest live-action remake opened to a sluggish $43 million in the U.S. and Canada.

The domestic haul for “Moana” underperformed studio expectations, which ranged from $60 million to $65 million. Globally, the film brought in a total of $95 million on a production budget of about $250 million.

Despite its lackluster debut, the film still came in first at the box office during a weekend where it had few new competitors in the family film space.

The “Moana” franchise has been a box-office and streaming juggernaut. The original 2016 animated movie brought in more than $643 million worldwide and is the most-watched movie on Disney+, while a 2024 sequel grossed more than $1 billion at the global box office. On the merchandise side, more than 22 million “Moana”-themed toys have been sold. “Moana” also appears in the Disney theme parks.

But the theatrical reception for the live-action film may signal that audiences think there’s been too much “Moana” in just 10 years. (The 2024 film sequel was originally set to be a streaming series before it was moved to Disney’s theatrical calendar.)

Most of Disney’s previous live-action remakes have come decades after the original animated movie, such as 2025’s “Lilo & Stitch,” which arrived 23 years after its animated predecessor and grossed more than $1 billion in worldwide box office receipts.

The theatrical haul for the latest “Moana” may also have suffered from poor reviews — the film got a 34% on aggregator Rotten Tomatoes, with several critics highlighting its nearly frame-by-frame similarity to the original film. The audience score on Rotten Tomatoes, however, was 90%.

Still, as the last of this summer’s major animated films, “Moana” could see a longer tail in theaters, particularly with many children still on break from school. Disney’s live-action “Mufasa: The Lion King” opened in 2024 to a middling $35 million, but ended up grossing more than $722 million globally through the holiday season.

Universal Pictures and Illumination’s “Minions & Monsters” came in second at the domestic box office this weekend with $20.5 million. Disney and Pixar’s “Toy Story 5” continued its strong run with an $18.5-million haul, enough for third place and contributing to a total global gross of $879.1 million.

Warner Bros.’ “Evil Dead Burn” ($13.7 million) and Angel Studios’ “Young Washington” ($6.4 million) rounded out the top five.

Also notable this weekend: Lionsgate’s musical biopic “Michael” crossed $1 billion in worldwide box office revenue, the first time that the studio has reached that milestone and the second film this year after “The Super Mario Galaxy Movie” to hit that mark.

Donny Hathaway had already been expounding on the splendors and indignities of American life by the time he got to the Troubadour in West Hollywood in the last week of August 1971.

A classically trained pianist with a declamatory voice shaped by his years in the church, Hathaway closed Side 1 of his 1970 debut with an original called “Tryin’ Times” — “Maybe folks wouldn’t have to suffer,” he sang, “if there was more love for your brother” — and finished the LP with a stately rendition of Nina Simone’s “To Be Young, Gifted and Black.” Months after the album was released, he dropped a joy bomb of a holiday single, “This Christmas,” that unapologetically made space for a Black experience in the yuletide-industrial complex.

Donny Hathaway performs at Mister Kelly’s in Chicago in 1971.

(Val Mazzenga / Chicago Tribune / Tribune News Service via Getty Images)

Yet Hathaway captured something indelibly American during his week of shows at the Troubadour, which were recorded (along with a later gig at New York’s Bitter End) for the singer’s classic “Live” album that came out in February 1972. On an LP full of spine-tingling performances, the undeniable high point is Hathaway’s take on Carole King’s “You’ve Got a Friend” — a clear-eyed if optimistic portrait of resilience and cultural exchange.

King — who’d made her name in the 1960s as half of a prolific Brill Building songwriting duo with her husband, Gerry Goffin — wrote “You’ve Got a Friend” after leaving Goffin and moving to Los Angeles with her two young daughters. Here she remade herself as a low-key singer-songwriter dispensing wise yet unflashy tunes about love, home and family — part of a gentle resetting of pop’s mood after the turmoil of the previous decade.

Cut like the rest of the album at A&M Studios on La Brea Avenue, “You’ve Got a Friend” helped drive King’s 1971 “Tapestry” LP to sales of more than 10 million copies and to a boatload of trophies (including album, record and song of the year) at the Grammy Awards; the singer’s pal James Taylor, whom she’d performed with for the first time in late 1970 at the Troubadour, topped Billboard’s Hot 100 with his own cover of “Friend” featuring background vocals by Joni Mitchell.

On the advice of Atlantic Records’ Jerry Wexler, Hathaway also recorded “Friend” as a studio duet with Roberta Flack, a fellow Howard University alum; their take sat in the Top 20 of Billboard’s R&B chart as Hathaway began his run at the Troubadour — popular enough that the audience on “Live” erupts at the sound of Hathaway’s opening organ lick.

Carole King at A&M Studios in Los Angeles in 1970.

(Jim McCrary / Redferns via Getty Images)

Indeed, the crowd is really the thing in this live version of “You’ve Got a Friend.” Hathaway and his band — including guitarist Phil Upchurch, bassist Willie Weeks and 16-year-old Fred White (soon to be of Earth, Wind & Fire) on drums — are cooking, to be clear; the groove is funky and viscous, and Hathaway’s vocal is gorgeous, not least in his nimble ad-libs.

But it’s his interplay with the few hundred folks in the room that elevates the recording to a deeply moving piece of art.

For King (and Taylor), the song’s promise of unflagging support is an intimate one-to-one matter; their renditions use homey acoustic arrangements to create a picture of two people exchanging confidences. In Hathaway’s hands, “Friend” is about community: Before he even asks them to, the audience takes over for him on lead vocals in the song’s chorus, a congregation in all but name.

Given the proximity to the civil rights movement, it’s impossible to hear Hathaway’s “You’ve Got a Friend” as disconnected from the struggles of Black people. At the Troubadour (as in his and Flack’s duet), he nixes the song’s second verse to arrive more quickly at the bridge, in which he describes a cold world filled with those who’d “hurt you and try to desert you” — even “take your soul if you let them.”

As Emily J. Lordi notes in her 2016 book about “Donny Hathaway Live,” the crowd lays back during the bridge before rejoining Hathaway for the song’s second chorus; the decision, somehow spontaneous and collective at once, is an expert bit of record-making on the part of an audience that, according to legend, hadn’t been told the concert was being taped.

“From this perspective,” Lordi writes of Hathaway’s fans — some number of whom had surely availed themselves of the Troubadour’s bar, as she points out — “they are not stealing the show so much as they are holding him up, ensuring he won’t sing the duet alone.” Together, performer and audience are turning back (not that they necessarily had a choice) to the ugly truths that singer-songwriter music sometimes sought to move past.

In this way, Hathaway’s “Friend” becomes a reinvention of a reinvention — an act of moral imagination about as American as it gets.

This wasn’t the only instance of a Black soul singer interpreting a tune King had written as a single mom newly arrived in L.A.: In May 1972, the Isley Brothers released a sultry cover of “It’s Too Late”; a month after that, Aretha Franklin’s live “Amazing Grace” album mashed up “You’ve Got a Friend” with “Precious Lord, Take My Hand,” completing the gospel-ification that Hathaway had begun in a bastion of white rock culture temporarily remade as an African American church.

Yet in Hathaway’s “Friend” you can hear the whole story American music tells about identity and belonging (and about commercial ambition).

“This might be a record here,” Hathaway tells the crowd near the end of the song, and so it was — a document of adaptation, a testament to borrowing, a bulwark against pretty fictions.

The bass legend and superproducer Don Was didn’t expect to be covering Curtis Mayfield’s Civil Rights-era anthem “This Is My Country” on the road in 2026. But lately, the chaos in the United States made the song seem regrettably apropos.

“It wasn’t supposed to still feel potent. It was supposed to be something that served a moment,” said Was, who included the defiant single on his 2025 album “Groove In the Face of Adversity.”

“It’s shocking to be here in 2026 and, whatever distance we traveled from 1966 until now, to see it all get reset,” Was said. “That song’s a more powerful statement now than it was then. It was inconceivable that it would still be relevant — this is supposed to be the utopian age of Aquarius. This is not the way it was supposed to turn out.”

Was remembers the tumult, violence and hope that came out of that era in his hometown of Detroit. The city’s music, famed for rough-hewn virtuosity from blues to soul to techno, is the spring that waters “Adversity.” It is, remarkably, the 73-year-old’s first solo album after a career spanning the pioneering electro-pop band Was (Not Was) and deep producer relationships with the Rolling Stones, Bob Dylan and Bonnie Raitt.

He also spent years in Bob Weir & Wolf Bros with the late Grateful Dead founder, and will play from the Dead’s landmark “Blues for Allah” on his tour that stops at Lodge Room on July 7.

With a backing band of studio killers dubbed the Pan-Detroit Ensemble, “Adversity” has an expansive modern atmosphere, yet a lived-in, filament-bulb quality in the playing that carries through funk, jazz, rock and R&B. It’s largely a covers record, but you wouldn’t know it from the depth of the revisions — veering from the Yusef Lateef standard “Nubian Lady” to Hank Williams’ “I Ain’t Got Nothin’ But Time,” closing with funk group Cameo’s “Insane.”

“I’ve been carrying it around in my head for 30 years,” Was said. “This first album to me is really a handshake, a ‘nice to meet you,’ this jambalaya of Detroit sounds.” While much of the source material comes from elsewhere, the cumulative mood is extremely personal to an artist who has spent his life helping the greats find true expression.

“I’ve come to admire artists who are willing to go in deep inside their most personal thoughts for the sake of helping the listener understand their own lives,” he said. “To help them deal with the trauma of being human — especially in these times, man.”

Tops on that list is the late Grateful Dead founder Bob Weir — who died in January at 78 — as a model for a band staying fearless and uncompromising. Was, still heartbroken about the loss of his friend and bandmate, recalled their first time on tour.

“When Bobby called asking me to play bass with the Wolf Bros, I thought at the very least, this is going to be a master class in losing self-consciousness and forgetting about fear,” Was said. “If the band stumbled, the audience wouldn’t walk out. They appreciated the fact that you were trying to do something new for them. Then there’d be a couple moments every night with an incredible exchange between the musicians and you can feel the audience becoming a member of the band.”

Playing the Dead’s “Blues for Allah” on this tour — an LP rooted in Middle Eastern scales, pirouetting time signatures and improvisational telepathy — put him in communion with his old friend.

“I used to think that songs like ‘King Solomon’s Marbles’ were just jams and conversations on the spot. But when we really got into it, there’s a form underneath and you can take tremendous liberty with that form,” Was said.

Was’ production career was built on a similar principle.

His early band Was (Not Was) remains a visionary electro-pop act with subtle, salient politics. “Out Come the Freaks” is a favorite on Pride month dance floors — “If you just wanted to do poppers and dance all night, it worked, and if you wanted to think about the government careening out of control, it worked too,” Was said of the band’s club material.

The late Ozzy Osbourne sang on the band’s international hit “Shake Your Head,” alongside a winking, very game Kim Basinger. The actor was a replacement after Madonna backed out, leaving the proto-rave tune one of the era’s most unlikely collaborations.

He recalled Ozzy fondly. “In 1975, this folk group I was in booked us to open for Black Sabbath at the Toledo Sports Arena, playing for a bunch of 14-year-old white boys on amphetamines,” Was said. “They weren’t having it. I’ve heard the tape of that show, and the drummer was bleeding from being hit by so many bottles that we had to stop playing. That was my first exposure to Ozzy, so I was a little afraid to do the session, but he was up for an adventure.”

Don Was and the Pan-Detroit Ensemble

(Gemma Corfield)

A Stones confidant and producer from 1994’s “Voodoo Lounge” up until 2023’s “Hackney Diamonds” (where Andrew Watt took the helm), Was had nothing but praise for the band, and still admits to a twinge of fandom in their presence.

“There’s never been a day in the studio with the Rolling Stones where I didn’t look around the room and go, ‘Oh my God,’” he said. “I’ve known Mick for over 30 years, but the last time they played L.A. at SoFi Stadium, Mick came walking down that stage and I was like, ‘Wow, there he is, it’s 1965 again.’”

With Dylan, he recalled the mercurial genius’ impish side. “I was producing Dylan, and George Harrison came in to play guitar. Bob was messing with him, Bob pushed the engineer aside and he ran the tape machine. George had never heard the song before, didn’t know what key it was in, and Bob just starts the tape. George played a respectable solo, but clearly it was rough. Bob, just to be funny, stopped the machine and said ‘That’s it, perfect.’ George turns to me and said, ‘What do you think, Don?’ And Bob goes, “Yeah, what do you think, Don?’ I’m looking at these two guys and time slowed down. I remembered trying to sell my car to get a ticket to go to New York to see the Concert for Bangladesh. Now they’re asking me what I think. I was paralyzed.”

“A voice appeared in my head,” he said, “Telling me, ‘He’s not paying you to be a fan.‘ So I said to George, ‘It was good, man. Let’s see if we can beat it.’ You can’t allow the iconography to dictate the outcome in the studio. You have to put that aside.”

As president of Blue Note Records, the estimable jazz label he’s led for more than a decade, Was relentlessly looks forward. He’s released restless modern records by Domi & JD Beck, Fathers, Makaya McCraven and Julian Lage (the hotshot jazz guitarist now playing with Dylan). He’s refreshingly optimistic about challenging music in streaming’s ruthless economy.

“Don’t make music for the delivery system,” Was said. “I don’t think about streaming, I think about touching people. If you do that, nothing has changed fundamentally in the music business. If your purpose is to get under people’s skin and make them feel something, that’s the same job it was for Mozart. How people listen can keep changing, but I don’t think the palette of human emotion changes, and that’s who you’re addressing.”

Was came from a working-class industrial city, making music reflective of Detroit’s technological upheaval and economic neglect. “Adversity” is a beacon to keep playing in spite of everything.

“I think that the salvation of musicians is that no matter what happens, what technological advancements come along, there’s still nothing like the experience of being in the same room as people who are playing together,” Was said. “It’s always been tough, man. It’s harder these days to buy a Ferrari as a musician, but I don’t know that that’s necessary. I have total confidence that the opportunity is there for anybody who is willing to give the audience a meaningful experience.”

In an era hallmarked by what experts call a “sex recession,” Six Sex is a symbol of liberation.

The Argentine baddie fashions herself as a baby-voiced, bikini-clad fembot, beamed in from the clubs of Buenos Aires — and has become known for cheeky, instructive celebrations of desire. Her songs are designed to galvanize like-minded club rats into Dionysian revelry, or, in the case of the song “How to Make Your Ass Bigger,” squats.

To a certain subset of the Latine underground, she represents a pure-hearted hypersexuality. Yet, for the artist behind the persona, Francisca Agustina Cuello, this wasn’t always the intention.

“I don’t know if it was because I still had to keep my innocence or what, but I didn’t envision the project that way,” she said, calling from a hotel room in Barcelona. “That response sort of came about from the people, towards me. So, I said OK, I’m making it my own.”

In doing so, Cuello has churned out six thumping EPs as Six Sex, a campy character that she describes as a “fable” — a mix of “fantasía y hedonismo.”

That dynamic is taken to extremes on her debut album, “Ultra”, released June 6. It’s a dark and propulsive journey through decades of electronic dance music, best described by its own opening words portending “ultra terrorific fantasy.” (The phrase conjures up images of grandeur, but really, it evokes that “Blades of Glory” quote: “no one knows what it means, but it’s provocative.”)

“I feel like nothing I say is all that serious,” she said about her lyrics. “It’s a thing about my personality to be silly and goof around.”

“Ultra” centers Cuello’s winking, suggestive sense of humor. “Not Your Mom” features a conversation with a garbled, omnipotent voice akin to the parents in Charlie Brown; “FUchi!” features schoolyard taunts about “low dickie energy;” the album ends with “No More Porn,” a playful yet powerful subversion of sexual expectations.

“At the same time, for me, that acts as a filter,” she added with a laugh. “Weeding out the people who get scandalized by it, and identifying the people who get it and say: ‘Yas, yo también quiero tener cuatro novios.’”

Earlier this year, Cuello took the stage at Don Quixote, performing in front of a sold-out crowd for her Los Angeles debut. The smell of sweat permeated the air as she ripped through several of her hits — including collaborations with Reysha Rami and German producer MCR-T. Every single one of her signature ponytail flips sent the room into hysterics. The audience screamed every word at the top of their lungs; it was the loudest, most raucous show I’d been to in years.

Cuello took a breather in the middle of her world tour to chat with De Los over Zoom about all things Six Sex: her new record, her writing style and how it feels to connect with fans spun into febrile intensity.

This interview has been condensed for clarity and was translated from Spanish to English.

“[I’m] weeding out the people who get scandalized,” says Six Sex of her provocative music.

(Catalina Jacobo)

I was really taken by the “Ultra” album cover. You’re wearing a white bikini and in this “come to Jesus” pose. What was the goal?
[laughs] It was hard, because I wanted the cover to represent what the entire journey of the album meant to me. I was looking for something strong and heavy in visual terms, because with “Ultra”, this is the first time I’ve finished a long, heavy project and I see the start of something. It’s like something new was unlocked. I found a new way to convey feelings, and a new way to create as well. It’s not like I just finished, and it is what it is. Rather, it is the beginning of something bigger.

Is there an element of separation at all between the artistry and you as a person?
I think they’re pretty close. It’s as if Six Sex was sort of a fable, or like a hentai or comic [version of] my life. It’s also happened that things I wrote as a joke later became reality. But generally, I draw inspiration from things that actually happened to me.

Is it weird to put those intimate experiences on an album?
No, not for me. Because I’m not speaking so seriously, I don’t feel exposed. Even though my persona and my character are very close to one another, I don’t have to prove anything to anyone. I’m not trying to make you believe in something. The songs stop being about me as soon as someone else listens to them. There are certain things we can all see ourselves represented in, and I think my music aims for that, too.

I want to ask about your performance style. I saw you live in Los Angeles and was really taken by the energy exchange between yourself and the crowd. How do you approach live performance?
Nowadays, I’m in a balance between performance and being a human being that connects with people and can pause to look in the eyes of the audience to register how they feel. I like being in a showgirl role, and at the same time, knowing when to step out of it.

Sometimes I go up there after having a crappy day, thinking that I’m gonna screw it up. And when I get up there and connect with the people, everything flows in a perfect way.

Does the music transform when it’s performed live, versus on a record? A lot of your music seems designed to be played in the club.
I think it’s very personal. For me, I’m a bit autistic; sometimes when I’m at a show, I get different sensations. It really depends on the person. I like seeing people’s reactions live when I start playing these songs for the first time. People were super hyped. They were enjoying them and jumping around a lot. It feels really fresh.

You reference ‘90s club classics all over “Ultra,” including by U.K. band the Prodigy on “Bitch Up.” How did these sounds come into your life?
These sounds evoke a special kind of nostalgia for me. Even though I hadn’t been listening to them lately, they sounded like something I wanted to bring back to the table — songs my uncle used to listen to when I was really young. Like a CD [of] pirated songs that somehow ended up at my house, and at the time I was like, “Wow, what is this music?”

There’s an element of Six Sex that gives “fembot,” like a female, sexy robot. I’m curious if you feel that playing out in your work.
[laughs] I didn’t know about the fembot thing. I don’t use Twitter. I [keep] a bubble… against some things that I don’t know. But I’ve always liked the idea that people have that perception of me, to some extent.

How do you feel about the rise of AI as a musician, especially considering your persona adopts that perception?
I mean… I don’t have a formed opinion on the matter. I do think that, I don’t know, it’s all very relative. For one thing, I obviously feel like it strips away the human value, but at the same time, it’s also a tool for humans. So it’s kind of contradictory. I feel weird about it…. I don’t know.

Zooming out, I’ve noticed Argentina has been having a musical moment over the last few years between yourself, Ca7riel y Paco Amoroso, Juana Rozas… How do you feel Argentina being represented or even challenged in your music?
I feel that culturally, Argentina is a very rich country. However, I do feel like, over generations, a paradigm was broken, and new sounds have been created that don’t necessarily abandon the roots of our music, but were created out of counterculture.

That same kind of counterculture is what makes Argentina be in such turmoil. It’s also the context of our country. Economic, political, social. The key Argentinian figures we refer to nowadays are constantly changing. And that allows you to listen to a variety of genres from Argentina, from people doing different things, and at the same time raising the flag and saying: “Yo soy argentino.” And we love that.

Dine-in movie theater chain Alamo Drafthouse Cinema is launching a new initiative to show unreleased independent films that had successful festival runs, a move that comes as specialty films have struggled to gain distribution.

The Alamo Exclusives program, announced Wednesday, will give limited theatrical runs to films that showed at festivals including Sundance, the Toronto International Film Festival, Tribeca Festival and South by Southwest festival, as well as Alamo’s own Fantastic Fest.

The idea is to help showcase films that received critical acclaim, but did not secure distribution or acquisition deals. The chain will not acquire these films, but instead will enter into agreements with filmmakers to exhibit their films on Alamo Drafthouse screens. By showing these films to audiences on the big screen, these films could get the momentum they need for further opportunities.

The program’s first film will be the documentary “Butthole Surfers: The Hole Truth and Nothing Butt,” which debuted last year at South by Southwest and chronicles the history of the punk rock band.

The film will be shown in Alamo Drafthouse theaters for a limited time later this summer.

The Austin-based chain, which is owned by Sony Pictures, has a long history of curating indie films for its audiences, giving Alamo Drafthouse confidence that its viewers want to see these kinds of movies, company chief executive Michael Kustermann said in a statement.

“Time and again, they’ve shown they’ll come out to support bold, original films when given the opportunity,” he said. The new Alamo Exclusives “gives us another way to champion filmmaker-driven films that deserve to be discovered and connect them with the wider Alamo Drafthouse audience.”

The initiative comes at a difficult time for indie films. Since the pandemic upended the movie business, traditional studios and distributors have had less appetite for risk, including betting on smaller indie films out of festivals.

And as the 2023 dual writers’ and actors’ strikes thinned out theatrical lineups, that aversion to uncertainty became a push for reliable and profitable hits.

“Too many incredible films premiere at festivals and then never receive the theatrical life they deserve,” Lisa Dreyer, director of Fantastic Fest and film innovation at Alamo, said in a statement. “We are actively searching for films across all genres, from horror to comedy, to everything in-between, to champion in this new, exciting way.”

Lionel Richie brought the first stop on his summer tour with Earth, Wind & Fire to an abrupt stop Wednesday evening, citing his health.

The 77-year-old Grammy winner, hitmaker of “Hello” and “Say You, Say Me,” unexpectedly hit pause on the concert at the Grand Casino Arena in St. Paul, Minn., after taking a seat on stage multiple times during his performance of “Dancing on the Ceiling” and telling his audience he felt “dizzy,” according to videos shared on social media.

“What I have learned about my years of being in the business, when you are feeling dizzy, sit your a— down,” he joked, according to a TikTok posted Wednesday evening by user ynaffitmocha. “When you are feeling strange about yourself, sit your a— down.”

Moments later, saxophonist Dino Soldo informed the audience that the singer was “not feeling well” and would not continue the concert. A representative for the singer did not respond to a request for comment, but TMZ reported on Thursday the singer-songwriter was hospitalized after the health scare. Paramedics reportedly met the artist backstage and transported him to a nearby hospital out of precaution.

A spokesperson for the Saint Paul Fire Department did not immediately respond to a request for confirmation on Thursday.

Live Nation announced “American Idol” judge Richie and Earth, Wind & Fire’s joint tour in January, unveiling a 26-city circuit that includes stops in Chicago, Orlando, San Francisco and Los Angeles. Richie and the “September” group are next set to perform at the United Center in Chicago on Friday and again at Schottenstein Center in Columbus, Ohio. It is currently unclear whether Richie will resume performing for those concerts.

Richie and Earth, Wind & Fire are scheduled to play Inglewood’s Intuit Dome on Aug. 9. The tour ends Aug. 14 with a show at the Moody Center in Austin.

Chris Appleton could be about to count on the support of pal Kim Kardashian from the Strictly stands as he gets ready to take on the BBC dance competition

Kim Kardashian could be set for a part in Strictly Come Dancing after playing a key role in Chris Appleton’s sign-up, according to reports. The reality TV star is said to have been a big player in making the celebrity stylist join the current roster of celebs hitting the dance floor.

The hairstylist was the fourth star announced for the upcoming series after Lacey Turner, Dani Dyer and Delta Goodrem. And he is set to get the support from some of his high profile clients, which have included Jennifer Lopez, Kim Kardashian, Sofía Vergara, Ariana Grande, and Katy Perry.

And it’s the Kardashians star who is said to have helped him bag the gig in the first place. A source said: “Kim’s most important advice to him was simple: before you launch a brand or product, make people feel like they know you, are invested in your life, in you.”

It comes as Chris reportedly wants a little more in life, namely, his own brand of hair products. And Kim sees the reality contest as the perfect way to introduce him to the British public.

The source went on to tell The Sun: “It was Kim who pushed him toward Strictly – he’s had a lot of reality TV show invites in the US.

“He was initially very hesitant to put himself out there as a ‘star’ but Kim argued that a successful run on the show would do more for his brand than a year of PR campaigns and huge ad budgets.”

They added: “Being in the Strictly spotlight makes him a household name in the UK, gets him into every room and red carpet event that matters in London, and builds the kind of public warmth that no advertising budget can manufacture – and that’s exactly the diving board you want to launch a brand from.”

And it’s claimed if Chris ventures into the later stages of the competition then Kim could come to the UK to support him from the crowd. The source said Kim has given Chris “free rein” to discuss their friendship too.

After he was announced as a Strictly contestant, Chris said: “I’m thrilled to be joining Strictly Come Dancing and coming home to the UK for this incredible experience. I’ve always believed that the best things happen when you take a chance and try something new.

“I may know my way around a salon floor, but the dance floor is a whole different story – and I can’t wait to get started.”

Chris grew up in Leicester, but he now lives in Los Angeles. But it’s said the UK will always be home to the star and he will be using the contest to be closer to home.

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In early June, hundreds of fans dressed to the nines were in attendance at a rock star’s sold-out show at New York’s Beacon Theatre. There was lace everywhere and leather too. Chains dangled from belt loops and wrists. Some attendees arrived with dyed crimson hair, others with orange or pink.

Sheer black outfits that looked pulled from the pages of a gothic romance novel were draped on bodies. If “The Rocky Horror Picture Show” had collided with a modern concert, it might have looked something like this.

Then a man took the stage. Was it Lestat de Lioncourt, the immortal vampire-cum-rock star, or was it actor Sam Reid?

Moments earlier, attendees had watched the first episode of AMC’s “The Vampire Lestat,” the rebranded third season of “Interview With the Vampire” that premiered earlier this month. This season adapts Anne Rice’s novel of the same name, which is told from the perspective of Lestat, played by Reid, and transforms him into a touring musician.

Now Reid, dressed in black with his chest partially exposed beneath an open jacket revealing a scar, stepped on stage and into the role of Lestat in front of the audience. As he moved across the stage, phones shot into the air. Fans screamed. People sang along to a slew of songs, and for a moment, the line between actor and character seemed to disappear.

At first glance, the assignment to turn Lestat into a rock star seemed straightforward. The vampire at the center of Rice’s beloved novels has flirted with music before. In 2002’s “Queen of the Damned,” he emerged as a leather-clad nu-metal frontman capable of commanding massive crowds. But bringing Lestat into the present introduced a different challenge. Rock music no longer occupies the same place in popular culture. Fame is fragmented. Audiences are skeptical of celebrity. Social media can build a star overnight and tear them down just as quickly.

Yet “The Vampire Lestat” asks viewers to believe something as audacious as a centuries-old vampire still being able to captivate people, launch a music career and inspire a movement. Reid thinks part of what drives the character is something surprisingly modern.

“Nobody cares that I exist, nobody cares that I’m not relevant,” Reid said of Lestat’s mindset entering the season. “It’s really fun to see him struggle with that and see him try to find his place in the world and not immediately get world domination.”

Making that fantasy feel believable required far more than putting Lestat in leather and handing him a microphone. To pull it off, the show’s creative team had to build a rock star from the ground up, crafting a visual identity, creating music that could stand on its own outside the series, and transforming Reid into a performer capable of owning a crowd rather than simply acting in front of one.

Sam Reid’s Lestat de Lioncourt crowd-surfs in “The Vampire Lestat.”

(Sophie Giraud / AMC)

“Dropping Lestat down into 2025 and making the decision for him to play rock ‘n’ roll was a really great dramatic switch because while there are many great rock bands that are alive and kicking right now, their hold of the cultural landscape is quite small,” showrunner Rolin Jones said. “You couldn’t think of a worse way to get your message out than going to be a rock star right now.”

That challenge became the foundation of the season.

Step 1: Making the music

A polished aesthetic, marketing and, in Lestat’s case, book buzz can only take a musician so far. It’s the music that had to make diehard fans believe he’s an artistic genius, or at least a star in the making.

That challenge landed with composer Daniel Hart long before a single script was finished. In an unusual twist, many of the songs that would eventually appear throughout the season were written before the writers’ room fully mapped out the story.

“There were so many unknowns when we started,” Hart said. To find a way in, Hart and Jones started with their familiar reference point: David Bowie.

“We settled, I think sort of obviously, on David Bowie as the launch pad for our Lestat,” Hart said. “The way that Bowie was so mercurial, and he was a chameleon. He reinvented himself throughout his career.”

Hart also looked to artists as varied as Kurt Cobain and Chappell Roan, while drawing inspiration from classical music, blues and the old-world sound Lestat would have absorbed over his long life. One early writers’ room exercise even involved breaking down the influences embedded within “Long Face,” the Bowie-coded first single released from Lestat’s fictional album.

“‘Long Face’ feels like a Bowie rip-off to Daniel Molloy [played by Eric Bogosian], and so then Lestat breaks the song down for him and goes into all the other influences that are in there,” Hart said. “ ‘Long Face,’ you could say, was in some way influenced by Bach, and then [he] talked about Willie Dixon, and how the blues had influenced Lestat when he was around the … 1920s and ‘30s.”

“He’s been alive for 250 years,” Hart continued. “He’s seen and heard a lot of music.”

The creative team never set out to replicate the hard-rock sound that defined “Queen of the Damned.” If anything, Jones felt trying to outdo that soundtrack would have been a losing battle.

In “The Vampire Lestat,” Sam Reid sings every song himself, including “Long Face,” “Butterscotch Bitch,” “Your Biggest Fan,” “All Fall Down” and “Black Licorice.”

(Sophie Giraud / AMC)

“I mean, that soundtrack is deservedly very famous,” Jones said. “And I think if we decided to out-Korn Korn, we were going to be in trouble.”

Instead, their Lestat was a musician still searching for his voice. Jones says the season begins in a more performative glam-rock space before gradually evolving into something more personal.

“We thought ‘70s Bowie is where we would start, and that we would musically make a journey with him as we went deeper and deeper,” he said. “He would put his band on one tour, what a normal band would do, over four albums. The music just keeps changing. And as he gets more and more vulnerable, the songs begin to change. They get more raw. They get more exposure, and the music style evolves.”

Reid sang every song himself, including “Long Face,” “Butterscotch Bitch,” “Your Biggest Fan,” “All Fall Down” and “Black Licorice.”

“The more bombastic, the more over-the-top songs — he doesn’t seem to like them by the end of this season,” Hart said. “The more introspective songs that come later on are more in his new wheelhouse.”

That journey also shaped how Reid approached the material. While audiences will ultimately see the songs unfold within the context of the show, Reid encountered many of them before he fully understood where Lestat’s story was heading.

“I think in the beginning, he’s coming from an artificial kind of construct,” Reid says. “As the show goes on, the music becomes more personal, and he becomes less interested in actually finding love through his audience and more about finding who he is as an individual and as an artist.”

When Jones first began adapting “The Vampire Lestat,” he briefly considered making the character the sort of arena-filling superstar audiences might expect, like a Beyoncé or Taylor Swift. But the more the writers discussed it, the less interesting that version felt.

“If we were gonna start chipping away at all the armor that Lestat had, one of the great repetitive ways of a tour is you just can’t seem to break a ceiling,” Jones said. “He’s a niche star. And I think that is part of the gas that fuels this little journey.”

Hart also had the impression that Lestat would be a massive star.

“But it became more apparent that [he might] not exactly have the kind of success that he wanted and desperately felt like he needed — that was a more interesting story to tell,” he said.

Step 2: Getting the rock star look

While the audience has to believe Lestat is a rock star, they also have to believe he’s someone with the look — and worth staring at.

Lex Wood, the show’s costume designer, said that the challenge began long before cameras rolled on Season 3. Jones first floated the idea of rock star Lestat while the team filmed Season 2 in Prague in 2023, giving Wood time to begin imagining what a nearly 300-year-old vampire might wear while reinventing himself as a singer. During a production trip to Paris, she started sourcing pieces and collecting references that would eventually make their way into this season years later.

“The main aim of building costumes for Lestat was to maintain an element of the unachievable,” says show costumer designer Lex Wood. “To emphasize that Lestat is untouchable.”

(Sophie Giraud / AMC)

Being fashionable wasn’t the only goal.

“The main aim of building costumes for Lestat was to maintain an element of the unachievable,” Wood said. “To emphasize that Lestat is untouchable. Hence, building specific costume build shapes and patterns that we adapted throughout the season.”

That idea guided nearly every aspect of the wardrobe. While the first two seasons often presented Lestat through structured tailoring and muted palettes, Season 3 arrives in a much louder world.

“A big thing really was that we wanted to push more color into the season in general,” Wood said.

Wood said the choice reflected where Lestat finds himself emotionally. No longer confined to drawing rooms and period silhouettes, he’s navigating celebrity, performance and self-reinvention. Leather remains. Black remains. But so do bursts of color, softer fabrics and strange patterns.

“We wanted to break Lestat free of the suiting,” Wood said. “Though we wanted to remain true to his roots in the 18th century, we also wanted Lestat’s pieces to feel slightly otherworldly at times.”

That meant weaving in elements of garments from the 18th century and making them feel contemporary. This could look like a very specific cut of a sleeve of a shirt that nods to that time.

Wood also studied the backstage photography of Mick Rock, pulling references of Bowie, Iggy Pop and Freddie Mercury. She blended that with punk-inspired designs from Vivienne Westwood and Jean Paul Gaultier. Goth icon Siouxsie Sioux also became an influence, particularly in the use of layering, texture and attitude.

Wood said the scattered references reflect a character actively trying to figure out who he wants to be.

“He’s investigating social media himself,” she said. “As he’s discovering his presence as a rock star. He’s investigating what it means to be a rock star.”

“He’s finding his persona,” she continued. “And trying on different personas.”

That idea extends all the way down to accessories, with Lestat’s jewelry blending old and new — a custom necklace created by a U.K. silversmith recalls one worn by Mercury during Queen’s early years, while rings featuring sculpted teeth serve as subtle reminders of his vampiric nature.

“We purposefully wanted some of his wardrobe to not be recognizable to any particular brand — at other times, we wanted to celebrate high-end fashion, to explore his playfulness and unpredictable character through his clothing,” Wood said.

Even the shoes became part of the transformation. One of Wood’s earliest conversations with Reid centered on abandoning the heeled footwear that helped define earlier versions of the character. This Lestat needed something heavier for a performer who could pace a stage.

“He wanted something that felt more grounded,” Wood said. “Something he could bounce around more in.”

Wood said the redesigned footwear altered Reid’s posture and movement, helping create a version of Lestat that she noted feels more volatile and more comfortable captivating a crowd than charming one.

Step 3: Becoming the rock star

For all the work that went into the costumes, music and scripts, none of it mattered unless the watchers believed the actor tying it all together.

Reid had already spent two seasons playing Lestat through other characters’ memories and perspectives. This time around required him to carry the character’s story through his own reflections. More importantly, he had to answer a deceptively difficult question: Why would anyone follow Lestat in the first place?

“It’s not fame that he’s after,” says Reid of his character in “The Vampire Lestat.” “Fame is totally temporary for a creature that lives forever.”

(Sophie Giraud / AMC)

The surface answer might be fame. The character launches a music career, records songs and steps into the spotlight. But Reid doesn’t think that’s what drives him.

“It’s not fame that he’s after,” Reid said. “Fame is totally temporary for a creature that lives forever.”

Reid sees Lestat as someone searching for validation.

“Not for the vampire that he is, but for the human being that he was,” he said. “He’s been pretty heavily rejected. From Louis through the book, and then his mother knows exactly how to string him along, when to give him love and when to take it away. So he’s really looking for validation and going into an audience space is where he first experienced that.”

While developing the season, Reid says he became increasingly interested in the gap between the public version of Lestat and the person underneath it.

“His whole life has been performance,” Reid said. “His whole life has been a lot of adversity, and the way that he kind of climbs out of that is to build a construct that he can perform and operate in. It makes a lot of sense for him to do this rock star persona. Through this season you start to see him realize that the music and the art can allow him to access himself as opposed to it just being a performance.”

“He’s trying to discover his sound as a musician,” Reid continued. “But he’s also trying to discover who he is.”

Throughout the season, viewers see a musician struggling to connect.

“Why can’t I sell out 5,000 seats?” Jones says, describing the character’s mindset. “I used to be able to walk into a room and everyone would love me.”

For Jones, that’s ultimately what makes Lestat feel like a contemporary artist. Sure, he may be an immortal vampire, but he’s navigating the same questions that confront plenty of artists: How much of yourself to reveal? How much should one perform? Can admiration ever substitute for genuine connection?

By the time the season reaches its conclusion, Lestat is still larger than life. But he’s also a more complicated performer forced to reckon with the distance between being seen and understood. Jones said none of this would be possible without Reid in the role.

“I think his performance in Season 3 is one of the 10 greatest American TV performances of all time,” Jones says. “I’d put him right next to Carroll O’Connor, Walter White [played by Bryan Cranston] and James Gandolfini.”

“And I’d look at all of them and say, ‘You guys didn’t sing.’ ”

Two of the biggest box-office standouts of 2026 so far were not made by established studio directors or built on franchise IP.

“Obsession” and “Backrooms” — horror films from internet-native directors in their 20s — have outperformed far more expensive studio releases.

The breakout success of these films has ignited debate across Hollywood about what made these movies so popular, especially among Gen Z moviegoers who haven’t been flocking to cinemas in recent years. Here’s what to know:

The numbers

”Obsession” was directed by 26-year-old Curry Barker, who got his start on YouTube with sketch comedy and horror shorts. Released May 15 by Focus Features, the film was made for just $750,000 but opened to a staggering $17 million and has improved on its debut every weekend since.

“Obsession” set an all-time horror record for the biggest fourth weekend for a film at the domestic box office, raking in $25.4 million. It now ranks as the year’s fifth most popular film, nearing $200 million domestically and roughly $295 million worldwide — ahead of Pixar’s “Hoppers” ($166 million) and Paramount’s “Scream 7” ($121 million), per Box Office Mojo.

“Backrooms,” from 21-year-old Kane Parsons — known on YouTube as Kane Pixels — drew on an online fascination with liminal spaces, leading audiences through an endless run of nearly indistinguishable rooms.

Released May 29 by A24 (known for such acclaimed films as “Moonlight” and Everything Everywhere All at Once”) on a reported $10-million budget, it opened to $81 million and crossed $100 million in under a week.

Within two and a half weeks, it had outgrossed the entire theatrical runs of horror films “Five Nights at Freddy’s 2,” “Smile” and “Scream 7.” It sits as 2026’s eighth-highest-grossing film.

Who is watching?

The audiences are young. In recent weeks, nearly 90% of “Backrooms’” viewers were under 35, with more than half under 25. Over “Obsession’s” first few weekends, 75% of the audience was 17 to 34, which is significant at a time when major studios have struggled to consistently get younger viewers to trek to the multiplex.

Why it’s working

Audiences have clearly latched onto the stories, said Jason Blum of Blumhouse–Atomic Monster, who worked on both films.

“There’s been an audience kind of waiting to get back to the movie theaters, and we in Hollywood really have not landed on what would get them back,” he told The Times in an interview this week.

Blum, who upended horror genre with the “Paranormal Activity” franchise, ties the success of “Backrooms” and “Obsession” to a connection to the directors’ origins.

Because the films were made by creators who speak to younger viewers daily on YouTube, he said, that generation “feels like they’re being spoken to.”

David Gross, an analyst at FranchiseRe, framed it as a new pipeline of talent and material. Creators can build large followings very inexpensively, he said, and their stories arrive further developed — which expedites the development and discovery process. He called internet-based storytelling “another additive source for material for movies.” Blum added that the films’ success could make studios more willing to bet on undiscovered directors who “might not have been considered” before.

Rosie Ramirez, chief marketing officer at Galaxy Theatres, said a young first-wave audience tends to generate buzz. More than a month after “Obsession” was released, she said, the Nevada chain’s four California locations are only now seeing a second wave of moviegoers curious about the hype.

Notably, the rise of these two films has unfolded in the shadow of major releases like Disney’s “Star Wars: The Mandalorian and Grogu,” and Mattel’s “Masters of the Universe,” both of which returned underwhelming numbers in their respective opening weekends.

Is it a trend or an anomaly?

Whether this marks a lasting shift or a fluke is unclear. May crossed $1 billion in box office — with “Backrooms” and “Obsession” doing much of the heavy lifting. Despite the improvement, the box office has yet to full return to pre-pandemic levels, with the summer tracking roughly 3.5% behind summer 2019, said Comscore’s Paul Dergarabedian.

And Dergarabedian questioned how the industry could replicate a success that, in his words, was “authentically and organically created” rather than manufactured: “It just happened,” he said.

Ramirez argued the broader summer slate — franchise tentpoles like “Toy Story 5” alongside some original surprises — points to a healthy box office regardless, a reminder that “it doesn’t always have to be the big summer blockbuster.”

When Brian Grazer has an idea for a movie, he now starts with a chatbot. The co-founder of Imagine Entertainment — the company behind “A Beautiful Mind,” “Apollo 13” and “Liar Liar” — said he sits down with Anthropic’s AI assistant, Claude, to rough out a story before handing it to a writer.

“You can build the whole thing into an outline. You still need a screenwriter. I always believe you need a screenwriter,” Grazer said during a keynote at UCLA’s Entertainment Symposium on Thursday. What once could have taken up to a year, he said, now takes him about a week — but the human writer stays.

That balance — AI as an accelerant rather than a replacement — captures where much of Hollywood has landed in practice. Amazon MGM, Lionsgate, Netflix and Disney have all made major investments in the technology. The sharper question at the symposium, which drew many of the industry’s top lawyers and dealmakers to the Westwood campus, was not whether to use AI but how: who authorizes it, how far it goes and who gets paid.

For the companies building the tools, the answer increasingly comes from the client. Studios, production companies and distributors regularly approach Promise, a generative AI company, to bring AI into their productions, and each arrives with its own usage guidelines, said the company’s president, Jamie Byrne. Those rules govern which AI models Promise may use and what protections apply — effectively letting each client decide how heavily AI figures into the work.

“It comes down to a risk appetite,” Byrne said during a panel on AI. “We know that there’s talent that are staunchly against it. We know that there are many who are okay with it.”

He framed adoption as a competitive necessity: “Every time there’s a technology change, certain studios or production companies rise. Others fall, and it’s usually the ones that are not leaning into the new tool.”

Ron Howard, also of Imagine Entertainment, argued the limits will ultimately be set elsewhere — by viewers. “Sure, it’s about efficiencies and budgets, but more than anything, audiences are going to tell us where those restrictions are,” he said. He expects AI-generated content to settle into its own subgenre over time, with audiences signaling what they will accept.

The most contested ground is labor, where consent has become the dividing line. The emergence of synthetic performers such as Tilly Norwood has made AI a central issue in SAG-AFTRA’s contract. The union’s most recent agreement draws a clear line between authorized digital replicas, which use a performer’s likeness with their consent, and fully synthetic creations.

Talent agencies are organizing around the same principle. In recent years, Creative Artists Agency began digitally scanning clients into what it calls the CAA Vault, building a replica of a client’s image, likeness and voice while leaving the talent in complete control of how it is used.

That control is beginning to carry real value, said Tammy Brandt, CAA’s deputy general counsel, who said she is seeing more deals that involve digital likeness. Hollywood has been slow to work out how to monetize these replicas, she said, but once it does, audiences will start to encounter them more often.

“You have to lean into the technology and understand what it can do, and honestly, how you can make money, work with talent and with creative assets in a way that the user is interested in,” Brandt said. “There’s a little bit of trial and error as you go with that.”

Before the lights dim and the trailers roll, moviegoers will start to see microdrama ads in movie theaters.

National CineMedia (NCM), the company responsible for the pre-show programming on the big screen, announced a new partnership with AI-native microseries studio aTwist on Wednesday. The company will begin advertising aTwist’s upcoming slate of vertical series in theaters later this summer.

“Movie theaters have always been where people go to lose themselves in storytelling,” Mike Rosen, NCM’s chief revenue officer, said in a statement. “This partnership brings new, exciting content to the pre-show experience, and gives brands the opportunity to speak more authentically to an audience that is naturally drawn to compelling, innovative content.”

The partnership was first reported by the Hollywood Reporter.

The deal will feature brand-sponsored series, previews of aTwist originals and a QR code that will take viewers directly to the aTwist platform.

These advertisements will be integrated into NCM’s regular programming, which spans more than 18,500 screens in over 1,650 theaters nationwide. The advertiser works with major movie chains such as AMC, Cinemark and Regal, across 185 markets. NCM was founded in 2002 and is best known for its “Noovie” preshow hosted by Maria Menounos.

ATwist is set to launch later this summer. The Los Angeles-based company, founded by former Hollywood executives Jana Winograde, Susan Rovner and Lloyd Braun, is entering an increasingly competitive format.

Microdramas, which originated in China, have continued to gain traction in the U.S. Some of the industry’s major players include ReelShort and DramaBox. The short-form content, engineered for a vertical phone screen, has drawn comparisons to a new addictive form of soap opera. The vertical video market is expected to generate around $150 billion in revenue this year, according to media consulting firm Owl & Co.

Brands such as Marc Jacobs and Crocs have already positioned the storytelling format as a way to advertise new products and reach new audiences.

By advertising to moviegoers, aTwist is hoping to distinguish itself among its competitors.

“We built aTwist around the belief that great storytelling should meet audiences wherever they are,” Winograde, aTwist’s chief executive officer, said in a statement.

“There is no better partner than NCM to introduce microseries to moviegoers and bring our storytelling into one of the most immersive entertainment environments.”

The 79th Tony Awards went off without a hitch at Radio City Music Hall, Sunday. The show, hosted by Pink, ran just over three hours and was relatively unsurprising when it came to the wins it delivered. Although each year it seems more marquee film and television stars appear in the audience as celebrities of a certain caliber continue to flock to the stage in search of a more authentic—and immediate—connection to their audience.

This year viewers could see Adrien Brody, John Lithgow, Laurie Metcalf, Rose Byrne, Daniel Radcliffe, Nathan Lane, Alden Ehrenreich and more. Despite, or perhaps because of the star power, the show stuck to its expected script with “Schmigadoon!” winning best musical, “Ragtime” best musical revival, “Liberation” best play and “Death of a Salesman” best revival.

Still, the night had enough laughs, groans and tender moments to keep things interesting. Here are seven of our favorites.

Vampires as metaphor for what ails America

Ali Louis Bourzgui used vampires as a metaphor for American folly in his acceptance speech for performance by an actor in a featured role in a musical at the 2026 Tony Awards.

(Theo Wargo / Getty Images for Tony Awards Productions)

Who knew vampires made such a good metaphor for America’s worst excesses? When 26-year-old Ali Louis Bourzgui took to the stage at Radio City Music Hall after an upset win for performance by an actor in a featured role in a musical, he used the undead to poignantly describe the country’s biggest sociopolitical challenges.

“Vampires represent those who have shunned their own humanity in order to achieve a nonexistent sense of superiority. The billionaires will never find happiness from their money. The colonizers will never find fulfillment from the land and lives they steal. The fascists will never find meaning from their conformity, not in this lifetime or eternity,” said Bourzgui, who originated the role of David in the musical adaptation of the cult vampire horror film “The Lost Boys.”

—Jessica Gelt

A Tony trifecta for John Lithgow and Laurie Metcalf

John Lithgow won the third Tony Award of his career at the 2026 Tony Awards at Radio City Music Hall.

(Theo Wargo / Getty Images for Tony Awards Productions)

It’s always a good feeling when actors we have known and love get rewarded by a well-deserved win, and so it was on Sunday night when John Lithgow and Laurie Metcalf took back-to-back wins early in the show. The former for performance by an actor in a leading role in a play for his portrayal of the controversial, beloved British author Roald Dahl in Mark Rosenblatt’s drama “Giant.” The latter for featured actress for her portrayal of Willy Loman’s protective wife, Linda, in “Death of a Salesman.” The plays were quite different, but the winners shared a very specific honor: the night marked the third Tony win for each actor.

Lithgow won his previous trophies in 1972 and 2002, and Metcalf in 2017 and 2018.

—Jessica Gelt

Nathan Lane is an ‘American theatrical treasure’

Nathan Lane accepts the best revival of a play award for “Death of a Salesman” at the 2026 Tony Awards.

(Theo Wargo / Getty Images for Tony Awards Productions)

Unless Nathan Lane gets a crack at playing King Lear, his Willy Loman in Joe Mantello’s production of Arthur Miller’s “Death of a Salesman” will go down as one of the peak challenges of his acting career. Not winning the Tony for his indefatigable performance must sting, but John Lithgow was favored to win for his brave turn as the baleful Roald Dahl of Mark Rosenblatt’s “Giant.” Lane had to have been prepared but a subtle wince of disappointment could be detected when the camera pryingly caught his immediate reaction.

So it was gratifying to see Lane receive his due from Mantello, who upon accepting his award for directing credited Lane with being the inspiration for the production. And when “Salesman” won for best revival, it was only fitting that Lane accepted the award on behalf of the company about a play that, ultimately, he pointed out, is about a family.

It was a point that Laurie Metcalf, who won for her featured performance as Linda Loman, also raised when she thanked Lane, Christopher Abbott (who played Biff) and Ben Ahlers (who played Happy) —her ferocious Loman family— for making her better.

A three-time Tony-winner already, Lane doesn’t need another trophy to assure him that he’s an American theatrical treasure. But this wasn’t just another Broadway outing for him. This was Miller’s masterwork in a production that will be remembered long after the tally of this year’s Tony Awards are long forgotten.

—Charles McNulty

Joshua Henry is a good person, a great actor and everybody loves him

Joshua Henry won a Tony Award for performance by an actor in a leading role in a musical at the 79th Annual Tony Awards, earning perhaps the most rousing standing ovation of the night.

(Theo Wargo / Getty Images for Tony Awards Productions)

The biggest standing ovation of the night came when Joshua Henry won the award for performance by an actor in a leading role in a musical for his critically acclaimed portrayal of Coalhouse Walker Jr. in the revival of “Ragtime.” Wearing a show-stopping black suit with golden flowers, Henry rushed to the stage as the star-studded crowd leapt to its feet to deliver a rousing standing ovation.

Henry first came to the full attention of fans playing Aaron Burr in the 2017 national tour of “Hamilton,” and has since gone on to distinguish himself as one of Broadway’s most charming and relatable stars. His optimism and kindness shine through, as does his fierce love of his art form, which was apparent as he gave his acceptance speech, thanking — in particular — his first vocal coach for believing in him. He also gave a poignant shout-out to the show’s original cast members Brian Stokes Mitchell and Audra McDonald, and sent all the love to his three young sons.

—Jessica Gelt

Pink had fun, but didn’t seem to know why she was there

Neil Patrick Harris and Pink perform during The 79th Annual Tony Awards at Radio City Music Hall.

(Jenny Anderson / Getty Images for Tony Awards Productions)

Pop star Pink kicked off the show with a wink and a nod to her hit “Lady Marmalade,” and went on to wow the audience with an action-packed opener filled with more than 150 performers and riffs from every Broadway show imaginable, plus a spirited appearance by Megan Thee Stallion. But the line that resonated most came early on when she spun hopelessly on a rope above the stage dressed as Peter Pan and a worried Neil Patrick Harris appeared to ask why she was performing in such an old-fashioned show.

“I just want to show how much I love theater even though I’ve never been on Broadway,” Pink said, still dangling, but nailing a few tricks. “I’m just concerned people might be like, ‘Why’s Pink hosting the Tonys?’”

That wasn’t the first time she seemed to be apologizing to the audience for being there.

—Jessica Gelt

Darren Criss gives happy endings

Darren Criss and Nicole Scherzinger joked it up during the 79th Annual Tony Awards at Radio City Music Hall.

(Theo Wargo / Getty Images for Tony Awards Productions)

Darren Criss is a Broadway superstar who consistently delivers “Happy endings,” according to co-presenter Nicole Scherzinger.

In what might have been the show’s most racy and deliciously groan-worthy joke, Scherzinger, stood side-by-side with the “Maybe Happy Endings” star to deliver the penultimate awards of the night, and noted, “You gave the world happy endings.”

“I did?” asked Criss, feigning innocence.

“You’re a giver,” said Scherzinger.

The pair took a beat through bubbling titters from the audience before knowingly yelling, “Happy Pride everyone!”

—Jessica Gelt

Leslie Odom Jr. delivers a moving in memoriam

Leslie Odom Jr. performs the In Memorium tribute during The 79th Annual Tony Awards at Radio City Music Hall.

(Theo Wargo / Getty Images for Tony Awards Productions)

Tony Award winner Leslie Odom Jr. sang a soulful rendition of “Without You” from “Rent” during the ceremony’s In Memoriam segment, which honored artists who died in 2025 and 2026, including Diane Keaton and Robert Redford. These annual segments are mournful — and tricky — and the “Hamilton” star managed to create an understated atmosphere that set the perfect tone for the somber projection of recently lost greats such as Robert Duvall, Tom Stoppard and Carmen de Lavallade.

—Jessica Gelt

Anthony Head, the British television actor who had roles in “Ted Lasso,” “Merlin” and most notably as father figure Rupert Giles in “Buffy the Vampire Slayer,” has died, his family announced Friday.

Head’s daughters Emily and Daisy Head confirmed his death to the Associated Press and said he died of complications from pneumonia. He was 72.

“Our grief is far greater than the hole he has left behind, but we know his legacy will live on, in the shows he was a part of, and in the audiences that love them,” Head’s daughters said in a statement to AP. “How lucky we are to know we are able to watch him doing what he loved, even when he is no longer with us.”

Head, a veteran of several BBC series including “Doctor Who,” became most familiar to American audiences in the late 1990s, playing Rupert Giles — a high-school-librarian-turned-magic-shop-owner and mentor to Sarah Michelle Gellar‘s titular character in “Buffy the Vampire Slayer.” He starred in a majority of episodes — 121 installments, according to IMDb — during the series’ run from 1997 to 2003. Head’s death follows those of fellow “Buffy” cast members Michelle Trachtenberg in February 2025 and Nicholas Brendon in March.

In addition to being Buffy’s advisor, Giles would go on to become a surrogate father figure to the slayer and her crew. In “Buffy” terms, Giles was a Watcher, a member of a council devoted to tracking and studying supernatural entities to keep evil forces at bay. Despite his stuffy demeanor and penchant for tweed, Giles was compassionate and had a rebellious streak, particularly in his youth. He would defy the rules set out for him by his job in order to save Buffy when he could.

Head’s portrayal of Giles left enough of an impression on audiences and series creator Joss Whedon that there was talk in 2001 of a Giles-centric spinoff. The series was planned to air on the BBC and was set to center on Giles and his sleuthing endeavors away from the main “Buffy” band. In the following years the potential miniseries evolved in to a one-off film, but Head finally confirmed in 2008 that the spinoff would not be moving forward. Whedon was “busy with another project, I’m tied up too, so at the moment I’d just say that it’s still out there,” Head told the BBC at the time.

After “Buff the Vampire Slayer” aired its final episode in 2003, Head continued his television work in British series including sketch series “Little Britain,” “The Invisibles” and “Free Agents.” His next prominent role would be in the fantasy series “Merlin” as Uther Pendragon, the King of Camelot and the father of would-be-king Arthur and sorceress Morgana Pendragon. The fantasy series premiered in 2008 and concluded in 2012.

In the following years he appeared in series “You, Me & Them,” “Dominion” and “Guilt,” among others. Head in recent years appeared in hit series “Bridgerton” and “Ted Lasso.” In the latter, co-created by Jason Sudeikis, Brendan Hunt and Joe Kelly, Head portrayed another Rupert — this time Rupert Mannion, a womanizing billionaire and ex-husband of soccer team owner Rebecca Welton (Hannah Waddingham).

Head, born Feb. 20, 1954, in London, was the son to documentary filmmaker Seafield Head and actor Helen Shingler. His older brother, Murray, is also an actor and singer.

Before Head became known for “Buffy the Vampire Slayer,” the actor gained a reputation among British audiences in the 1980s when he starred in a series of romantic ads for Nescafe Gold Blend instant coffee. The ads were later reshot for a U.S. audience for Taster’s Choice.

Head began his acting career in musical theater and has guest starred in series including “NYPD Blue” and “Highlander.” He appeared in a number of films, including in the Oscar-winning “The Iron Lady,” starring Meryl Streep as Margaret Thatcher.

Head is preceded in death by his partner, animal welfare activist Sarah Fisher. She died in 2025 at age 61.

Times staff writer Tracy Brown and the Associated Press contributed to this report.

Hollywood has been waiting for Kane Parsons since the year he was born. The 20-year-old director is the same age as YouTube’s first videos and grew up with no barriers between his creativity and an audience. “Backrooms,” his debut feature, marks the start of a new new wave of filmmakers raised by internet feedback who are ready to reinvigorate the industry.

Young Steven Spielberg screened his 8mm reels for his neighborhood. Parsons uploaded his early shorts online where he could analyze the mass response. When one, an unsettling nine-minute experiment about a warren of dingy carpets, taffy-yellow walls and gridded drop ceilings clicked with 78 million viewers, he made sequels. A24 offered Parsons a deal before he finished high school. He’s graduating into multiplexes having spent his adolescence writing, directing, editing, composing and market-testing what people want to watch. I’d toast to that, but Parsons isn’t old enough for Champagne.

Given that backdrop, “Backrooms” would be one of the year’s most significant releases even if the movie itself was merely fine. But it’s better than fine — it’s a work of honest-to-goodness art. Working with screenwriter Will Soodik, Parsons has gone back into that banal maze to find an uncannily mature story about loss and stagnation, about how our self-serving narratives barricade us from emotional growth.

Set in 1990, “Backrooms” has the fritz of an old VHS tape. (Like so many other Gen Z kids, Parsons is nostalgic for a pre-smartphone era he never knew.) A failed architect-turned-furniture salesman named Clark (Chiwetel Ejiofor, superbly expressive) tumbles through a portal in his store’s basement to the backrooms of the title — less Alice in Wonderland, more Alice in Wonderbland.

“It’s like it was made by a bunch of construction workers on acid,” he muses. The hallways lead to more hallways, the overhead fluorescents whine like hornets. Someone — or something — has piled lamps and stools into the center of one room, scattered chairs in another and embedded shoes into the floor as though the ground were made of sand. The disorder looks like the wreckage of an unknown chaos. Aboveground, Clark is trapped in his own resentments, throwing temper tantrums like a toddler. Down here, frustration feels natural.

Should he be afraid? And if so, then what of?

Distant thuds warn that Clark isn’t alone. Soon after, three other characters follow Clark into this liminal space: his loud employees Bobby and Kat (Finn Bennett and Lukita Maxwell) and his exasperated therapist, Dr. Mary Kline (Renate Reinsve), who is haunted by flashbacks of her agoraphobic mother. There’s also a mysterious man in a lab coat (Mark Duplass) who works for a company that factors into the backrooms’ preexisting internet lore, but doesn’t have much purpose in this script. It’s fine just to see Duplass as a gesture toward corporate apathy. More beings will appear too and cinematographer Jeremy Cox’s deliberately low-fi look forces you to do triple and quadruple takes to comprehend what you’re even seeing.

How does a 20-year-old fathom adult-sized discontent? Lord knows, but Parsons does. One theory is that today’s 20-year-olds were just launching into teenhood when the pandemic teleported them from their classrooms to isolated computer screens. Meanwhile, they overheard their parents fret that society might be forever hollowed out. When a young person looks toward the future, what do they see? Probably not an office building bustling with entry-level jobs.

Think about how the act of buying a couch no longer involves interacting with a salesman like Clark, but peering at a pixelated living room that doesn’t actually exist with a couch that changes colors at a tap. Think about how lately the internet at large feels human-less. Then layer that emptiness over the images here.

Sparse yet gripping, “Backrooms” and its minimalist story accommodate the audience’s own free-ranging imagination. The infinite size of these drab catacombs triggers sense-memories of feeling small and confused in an ordinary place that feels all wrong. It’s a time travel trip back to childhood — mass entertainment made intimate — with Parsons tossing us scraps of Clark and Mary’s personal histories like a breadcrumb trail. I remembered what it felt like to get lost in a motel on a road trip with my grandparents. More recently, I tidied the home of a friend who was in the hospital, the pill bottles and crumpled blankets left in situ as evidence of someone else’s pain. “Backrooms” felt like that, too.

There’s an incredible special effects shot where the camera sinks through the floor of Mary’s living room to find a mutation of the same room — and then another and another — each replica deteriorating further from reality until it becomes a new room altogether that would fit right into the backrooms. This, we wordlessly understand, represents how memories of the past can be at once factually inaccurate and emotionally true. We’ve all been bewildered kids, Parsons more recently than most. Some of the most powerful people on Earth still behave like they’re stuck in that headspace.

Describing “Backrooms” as a horror film doesn’t feel exactly right. It’s a surrealist painting in motion, the equivalent of staring at Salvador Dali’s wasteland of melting clocks until it makes gut-sense. Dali made that famous masterpiece, “The Persistence of Memory,” in 1931, a breath-holding moment between wars when daily life looked normal enough but vibrated with the dread that no, things were definitely not OK. Kids don’t know that, but they vibe with Dali anyway because he keys into their suspicion that the world doesn’t really obey the rules.

That anxiety hums through “Backrooms.” It’s why millions of people watched and shared the original short. Yet as fraught as it sounds — and as abruptly as it ends — I left elated. A major new moviemaking talent has arrived and he’s the beginning of a movement. Other internet-honed young filmmakers will follow with their own fresh insights into genres like action, comedy and romance. Kane Parsons is just the first one through Hollywood’s labyrinth.

After 10 days of crazed moviegoing at the Cannes Film Festival, Times film critic Amy Nicholson and Times film editor Joshua Rothkopf are all but spent. They leave with 10 recommendations (listed below in alphabetical order), including several titles you’ll be hearing about during awards season, but also, admittedly, more reservations than usual.

Amy Nicholson: There are worse ways to spend your life than watching four movies a day in the south of France. For a week and half, we ran in and out of the dark theaters, blinking at the shock of the sun and bickering about what we just saw with the highest concentration of film lovers anywhere — most of us jacked up on espresso or rosé. Yet, we’re flying home miffed that the movies themselves were mediocre. Cannes is meant to launch ambitious, prickly works by grandmasters and next-generation talents. This year, the programming looked like a party with an impressive invite list — Nicolas Winding Refn, Asghar Farhadi, Hirokazu Kore-eda — but upon arrival, all the guests felt like old acquaintances tapped out of anything interesting to say.

I’m being harsh. Cannes had good movies, too. But I needed this year’s Cannes to be great. Audiences trickling back into theaters deserve to see something fantastic. Instead, too many filmmakers took the crowd’s attention span for granted; even the strongest films in competition could delete a half-hour of dead air. Fittingly, the majority of my favorites came from Cannes’ kookier programming sections, Directors’ Fortnight and Un Certain Regard — and I suspect many of yours did, too, oui?

Joshua Rothkopf: I did find a handful of films from the main competition that impressed me, but point taken: Nobody is served if we can’t admit that this year’s edition was weaker than others. We could blame screenwriting or pacing (though paradoxically I was impressed by both the longest and the shortest movies in competition). Maybe it’s an overall lack of boldness. When a restored version of Ken Russell’s salacious 55-year-old “The Devils” eclipses virtually everything else shown at the festival, a certain timidity is hard to deny. There were too many “nice” films: perfectly respectable but not what I want Cannes to be.

Fortunately, we saw enough to sharpen up a list of favorites. Here’s what stirred us.

‘All of a Sudden’

I’m not convinced that the utopian vision of end-of-life care presented in Ryusuke Hamaguchi’s drama has a fighting chance in America, but we deserve the opportunity to grapple with its compassionate turns and have that discussion. The director of “Drive My Car” continues his process-centric exploration of workplace relationships in this quietly revelatory movie, one with a centerpiece conversation that merits comparison to the long walks of Richard Linklater’s “Before” movies. Virginie Efira and Tao Okamoto let a day’s stroll linger into profundity, the twilight dimming and human connection brewing in all its possibilities. Is it too late for them? It doesn’t need to be. — Joshua Rothkopf

‘The Beloved’

Esteban (Javier Bardem), a renowned bad boy Spanish filmmaker, returns to his homeland from New York to shoot a period picture in the desert. Off-screen, he’s gifted one of the four leading roles to his estranged daughter (Victoria Luengo), an aspiring actor who hasn’t seen her father in 13 years. Esteban failed as Emilia’s dad. Can he succeed as her director, especially when her big break packs this much pressure? Not likely, especially as Emilia has inherited his disastrous boozing habits. “The Beloved’s” actual director, Rodrigo Sorogoyen, unleashes his leads to become a tag team of destruction, each blaming the other for what’s going wrong on set. They’re both mired in clashing narratives of their relationship. Sorogoyen shows us the truth, as well as the visible frustrations of the film-within-a-film’s cast and crew that risk shutting down this too-passionate passion project. — Amy Nicholson

‘Bitter Christmas’

(Iglesias Mas / Sony Pictures Classics)

Pedro Almodóvar’s self-flagellating film about his artistic process has a Charlie Kaufman-lite structure that I’d rather let audiences discover on their own. In brief: Almodovar’s avatar, a filmmaker named Raúl (Leonardo Sbaraglia), gets dragged over the artistic coals by the dramatic female characters he’s been writing for decades, one of whom dares him to simply coast on his legacy. Too many veteran filmmakers in his year’s Cannes competition seem to have accepted that bargain, so when Raúl got to the end of a new script and decided it wasn’t up to his standards, I nearly shouted “Bravo!” Navel-gazing cinema about the creative process isn’t usually my bag, but Almodóvar doesn’t take his own misery that seriously, even inserting a manic pixie dream hunk, a male stripper-slash-firefighter played by Patrick Criado, for a little bump and grind. — Amy Nicholson

‘Clarissa’

It’s been 101 years since Virginia Woolf first published “Mrs Dalloway,” a novel about persnickety party hostess Clarissa Dalloway colliding with her former lovers, one male and one female. The plot seems simple, but every glare and sigh tells a whole story about modernization, capitulation, cynicism and violence. Twin brothers Arie and Chuko Esiri have transplanted the tale to present-day Nigeria and stacked the cast with Sophie Okonedo, Ayo Edebiri, Nikki Amuka-Bird, David Oyelowo and the staggeringly talented India Amarteifio as the diva in her captivating youth before she married a tedious oilman and started bullying the help. “Clarissa” makes several smart adjustments, swapping in a traumatized Boko Haram soldier for a shell-shocked veteran of the Great War, and cocking an eyebrow at the shiny new yoga studios and coffee shops littering Lagos’ once-lush waterfront. Better still, it’s sexy as heck — the flashbacks are one swimsuit party after another. — Amy Nicholson

‘Club Kid’

The one-sentence pitch of Jordan Firstman’s debut dramedy — a gay nightclub promoter sobers up when he discovers he has a 10-year-old boy — sounded as fun as snorting a line of aspartame. I stand corrected. “Club Kid” is a blast: a spicy, surprising and irreverent comedy that rarely peddles the audience anything artificially sweet. Firstman stars as Peter, a debauched millennial aging out of a New York scene that never cared about him as a person in the first place. His business partner Sophie (Cara Delevingne) is a horror; his selfish squatter-roommate Nicky (Eldar Isgandarov) is even worse and so hilarious I’d watch a spin-off sequel just about him. Peter’s shock son Arlo (Reggie Absolom) has a casual charm that pickpockets your heart, but it’s the script’s sour quips that will have you urging people to get past the treacly set-up and go see “Club Kid” themselves. — Amy Nicholson

‘The Diary of a Chambermaid’

Art punk Radu Jude’s latest satire is about a Romanian immigrant with a burlesque double life. By day, Gianina (Ana Dumitrașcu, fantastic) is the live-in housemaid of a daft Parisian family; by night, she’s an actress in a turn-of-the-20th century slapstick farce about a housemaid whose master suckles her patent leather boots. In neither world can she openly say what she thinks (although in her native tongue, she curses her employers and their young son plenty). Fast, crisp and snide, “The Diary of a Chambermaid” gives equal weight to the monotony and the absurdity of Gianina’s grind. And Jude isn’t above including a mocking slow-motion shot of a spoiled French boy totally whiffing a soccer kick. — Amy Nicholson

‘Fatherland’

The tension at the heart of Paweł Pawlikowski’s period piece, set in a ravaged, fallen Germany after the end of World War II, is one that goes unresolved. All that’s left are defensive denials, evasions of Nazi collaboration and the faint hope that something higher has survived. I could watch this kind of guilt-ridden post-apocalyptic movie for hours; instead, this lasts a scant 82 minutes. The conclusion, a wordless moment between father and daughter set to the strains of Bach played on a broken pipe organ, was the most devastating passage of the entire festival. “Fatherland” shows off Pawlikowski’s exquisite way with black-and-white evocations of European tragedy, but he’s never summed them up as poetically. — Joshua Rothkopf

‘Fjord’

People at the festival called this one complex; I found myself disagreeing. It’s actually a fairly straightforward story about a religious but mostly level-headed family flung into conflict with an overly sensitive branch of child protection services — and maybe with the whole of agnostic Norwegian progressivism. As reactionary as that sounds, I was totally rapt. Partly that’s due to a beautifully plotted courtroom scenario and the immersive performances of Sebastian Stan and Renate Reinsve, reuniting after “A Different Man,” as parents increasingly out of their depths. But mainly, I credit Romanian director Cristian Mungiu, who knows a good story when he sees one, crystallizing its potency with every camera choice. — Joshua Rothkopf

‘Minotaur’

The ice-chilled return of Russian filmmaker Andrey Zvyagintsev (after a multiyear battle with long COVID) is worth the wait: a condensation of everything he does well into something so purely distilled, it should come with a proof warning. The movie kicks off as a casual portrait of the vacant nouveau riche lifestyles of the mini-oligarchs: fancy dinners, divorces, bathroom gossip. Then it becomes an erotic thriller (it’s based on Claude Chabrol’s 1969 “The Unfaithful Wife,” as was Diane Lane’s “Unfaithful”). But the best comes last, as the situation gets fixed in broad daylight with breathtaking brutality. The war in Ukraine? Someone else’s problem. “Minotaur” takes on the whole of Putin’s dissociative society and puts its winners above the blackened clouds, looking down at the rest of us. — Joshua Rothkopf

‘Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma’

I am growing to love Jane Schoenbrun’s exfoliation of ’80s horror obsessions, especially for the movie’s nonjudgmental embrace: Let these movies be free in all their “problematic” badness and let them work on you. The fact that “Teenage Sex” sometimes plays like a bottle episode of “Hacks” doesn’t hurt. Hannah Einbinder brings vulnerability to a project that needs her brand of self-excoriating fearlessness. Points, too, for not turning this into yet another celebration of some forgotten male director reclaimed as a genius. Rather, the opposite: It’s about an abused scream queen (Gillian Anderson, gamely campy), a liminal, wintry campground and the exhilaration of running in the woods in your pajamas. — Joshua Rothkopf