One chimpanzee with a typewriter could pound out the script for “Primate” in an hour. Some pretty young things throw a pool party at an Oahu home and — yikes! — the family’s rabid pet chimp bashes in their skulls. That’s it, that’s the plot. Any tease that the movie could possibly be about anything more — a love triangle, a recently deceased mother, a vet’s puzzlement that Hawaii doesn’t even have rabies — is nothing but a banana peel tripping the audience into expecting a narrative.
I’m not foaming at the mouth over the death of cinema or what have you. Honestly, “Primate’s” kills are great. The problem is the dead space between them when we realize we’re bored sick.
The set-up is thus: Our heroine, Lucy (Johnny Sequoyah), who goes to school somewhere to study something, has flown home for an indefinite amount of time with her best friend, Kate (Victoria Wyant), and a classmate she loathes, vivacious sexpot Hannah (Jess Alexander), who doesn’t inform her host that she’s tagging along until they’re on the plane. Already, you’re wondering if this is a monkey’s take on mammalian behavior, but it’s just the actual screenwriters, Johannes Roberts and Ernest Riera (the former of whom also directs), clueing us in that bringing a brain to this humid adventure is as futile as packing a snowsuit. (They previously teamed up for the 2017 Mandy Moore shark movie “47 Meters Down.”)
Lucy’s father, Adam (Troy Kotsur of “CODA”), and her younger sister, Erin (Gia Hunter), have been rattling around their cliffside estate grieving for her mother, a primatologist who passed away from cancer the year before. They’re both lonely, but at least mom left behind her research chimpanzee, Ben (performed by Miguel Torres Umba), who uses a talking touch pad to communicate.
“Lucy back, Ben miss,” the chimp says, pressing a few keys. This is more or less how all the dialogue goes even when the humans are speaking — which, when it comes to a pair of frat guys that the girls picked up on the plane, is part of the joke. Brad and Drew (Charlie Mann and Tienne Simon) enter the house like two gorillas, belching and high-fiving, expecting to seduce the girls with verbal skills that stopped around preschool. “Me no hurt, OK?” Mann’s hilarious Brad says to Ben, grinning nervously and clapping his hands in an attempt to make friends. For a tender moment, you think these apes might be soulmates.
“Primate” is gleefully unevolved. The fatalities are gruesomely entertaining, the opening murder splattering the audience with such brutality that my theater howled in delight. In just two minutes, the movie had delivered everything it promised: a snorting monkey, a sucker in a flowered shirt, a shot of an ominous tire swing and a closeup of a peeled cheekbone.
If the pace had stayed that breakneck, my fellow schlock-lovers and I would have merrily pounded our chests. But at a hair’s breadth under an hour and a half, “Primate” is mostly draggy scenes of victims hiding in closets and trying not to scream as Ben roams the property acting like a hungover, steroidal toddler. Anything screechy sends him into a violent fit.
Umba, the movement specialist underneath the simian special effects, is convincing. But the movie treats his character like a generic slasher baddie checking off the standard tropes: the jump-scare surprise, the out-of-focus loom, the beat when the villain appears bested yet somehow staggers to his prehensile feet. Roberts doesn’t offer much empathy for the poor, diseased critter other than a pause when Ben momentarily ponders his reflection in a pool as Adrian Johnston’s eerie synth-piano score tinkles.
Let me give the film some credit: the performances are pretty good. Recent Oscar winner Kotsur has a casual nonchalance that makes you buy into his character right up until the moment he starts punching a monkey in the face. While Mann’s doomed meathead is only in the movie to raise the body count, the young actor brings a goofy, kinetic charisma to his too-few scenes — and, as a reward, Roberts grants him the longest and best death. Set in a romantic bedroom, it plays like a morbid joke about consent. (We’re meant to assume that at some time in this horny jock’s past, he’s done something to deserve it.)
Likewise, Alexander’s Hannah is the naughty girl who deserves to be punished for rudely moving in on Lucy’s crush, Nick (Benjamin Cheng). But she’s so magnetic that we root for her survival anyway. Just as Renée Zellweger and Matthew McConaughey somehow managed to have careers after starring in the fourth “Texas Chainsaw Massacre,” Alexander is a performer with promise: a screen presence with that extra twinkle.
The script has an anthropologist’s curiosity about the mating habits of Homo sapiens collegiate. Alas, humanity appears to be a species in decline. Faced with an angry monkey, these kids can’t think of much else to do other than run around hunting for their smartphones. An overreliance on tools weakens our civilization (and saps the film’s dramatic thrills). When Ben smashes a television set, perhaps Roberts is even making some sort of societal point.
Chimpanzees and humans share 98.4% of the same DNA and if you want to double-check that stat, so much blood gets smeared around this house that you can easily test a sample. Presumably, the character of Lucy was given her name as a nod to our earliest known ancestor, a 3.2-million-year-old Australopithecus afarensis who stood about the same height as Ben. Our closest relative, the bonobo, shares 98.7% of our genes and has been known to dispatch each other by bursting a male’s testicles, a nature fact that Roberts must be saving for the sequel.
Mystifyingly, “Primate” blames Ben’s terrible temper on rabies, not the more interesting causes of chimpanzee aggression like depression, psychological confusion and over-medication. Neither does it dig deep into the emotional horror of an owner realizing their best buddy is capable of ripping off a human face — let alone the guilt and agony of failing to stop an attack. When a Connecticut woman was forced to stab her beloved pet after he maimed a female friend, she lamented that sticking the blade in him “was like putting one in myself.” (She later adopted a replacement chimp.)
But it’s silly to expect actual social science from a movie that expands rabies’ ancient name — hydrophobia, or a fear of water — into the nonsensical idea that the only safe hideout from Ben is the swimming pool. That said, in case anyone from the Department of Health and Human Services watches “Primate” on an airplane, I feel compelled to mention that the rabies vaccine is 100% effective. The last thing we need is a government decree that every American should surround their house with a moat.
‘Primate’
Rated: R, for strong bloody violent content, gore, language and some drug use
R. Scott Gemmill, the creator and showrunner of “The Pitt,” has always felt comfortable in a hospital.
He initially had ambitions of going into medicine — he studied gerontology, which explores the processes and problems of aging, and did some volunteer work at hospitals. He also took a nurse assistant course.
“I really thought I was going to try and get into a med school,” he said recently while seated in the recognizable lobby of the show’s fictional hospital set on the Warner Bros. lot in Burbank. “I just wanted to have a job and medicine seemed like there was always going to be a need. I’m comfortable in a hospital. I wish I followed through on a certain level because I loved that ability to go in and solve problems. But my writing kicked in and that’s it — I never went back.”
But in TV land’s school of medicine, Gemmill has gone far. He did a rotation at Chicago’s County General Hospital, joining the writing staff of NBC’s popular medical drama “ER” in its sixth season. And now his turn at Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center, through HBO Max’s “The Pitt,” has been a breakout success, revitalizing the medical drama genre with a fresh spin on the format — each episode tracks one hour in a shift — and energizing its audience with a traditional weekly rollout. The Emmy-winning series returned Thursday for its second season that revolves around a shift on the Fourth of July. But the fireworks arrived well before that, with HBO Max announcing on the eve of the show’s premiere that the drama has been renewed for a third season.
In the hiatus before shooting began on this season’s finale, Gemmill, whose other TV credits include “Jag” and “NCIS: Los Angeles,” talked about the show’s momentum heading into the new season, navigating how personal to get with characters, and introducing a new doctor to the mix.
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1.Noah Wyle as Dr. Robby in Season 2 of “The Pitt.” (Warrick Page / HBO Max)2.From left: Sepideh Moafi as Dr. Baran Al-Hashimi, Taylor Dearden as Dr. Melissa King, Katherine LaNasa as charge nurse Dana Evans, Gerran Howell as Dr. Dennis Whitaker and Supriya Ganesh as Dr. Samira Mohan in “The Pitt.”(Warrick Page / HBO Max)
You started breaking Season 2 last January, as people were discovering the show week to week. People love to be critical of sophomore seasons of a breakout hit. How did that shape the second season for you and the writers?
It was weird because we wrote [Season 1] without any feedback. Not just wrote it — we shot it and produced it. We had started thinking about Season 2 before people had responded. It was a slow build. I felt like the healthcare professionals found us first, then spread through word of mouth. We were just moving forward with what we thought were the next stages of these characters’ lives. It wasn’t until later on that the accolades came and there was more pressure then. When we first started, we didn’t know if anybody was going to watch or not. We had finished it without any pressure whatsoever because nobody had weighed in on it. It was a very rarefied situation, which was nice. We hope for the best. And it seemed to work out OK. There’s a little bit of concern going into the second season because we were successful, you wonder, can you maintain that? But we try not to focus on that, and just really focus on the characters and the stories and do what we did the first season — tell really authentic, strong stories.
The season picks up 10 months after that initial shift where we met everyone. How did you decide on the time jump, landing on July 4?
It really came from wanting to have Langdon [Patrick Ball] back, so I knew he had to do about 10 months of rehab. Then we were looking at what time of year would that be. We’re also somewhat limited by when we shoot in Pittsburgh. We decided to do the Fourth of July because it comes with a bunch of shenanigans.
Season 2 opens with a helmet-less Robby riding in on a motorcycle.
The motorcycle goes back to some part of Robby’s past. We don’t really talk about it, but it has a link to his father, and his father being a tinkerer of old cars and Robby needing a vacation, a hiatus of sorts. Pennsylvania is a no-helmet law [state]. And some of us who have motorcycles sometimes enjoy riding them without a motor helmet. It’s not a smart thing to do, and it speaks to Robby’s current attitude of a certain amount of carelessness on his part.
Yes, we learn that he’s going to be taking a three-month sabbatical. How soon will we discover what led to that? Is it an amalgamation of different things?
Yeah, he’s long overdue for a vacation. He knows that something’s not working in his life and this is one way he thinks that he can fix things.
It was a place I knew about and it just sounded like an interesting place for him to go that has some foreboding associations with it.
A new doctor, Baran Al-Hashimi (Sepideh Moafi), center, is brought in to oversee the ER unit on the eve of Dr. Robby’s (Noah Wyle) three-month sabbatical.
(Warrick Page / HBO Max)
The season introduces a new character, Dr. Baran Al-Hashimi, played by Sepideh Moafi, who’s going to be taking over when Robby is out. She’s an advocate of generative AI and trying to get everyone on board with this idea of saving time with charting. What were your conversations with doctors in the field about that topic and what intrigued you about how healthcare professionals are thinking about this technology?
She’s someone who’s a little different with her approach, a little more contemporary and forward, as opposed to Robby; he bridges contemporary medicine and old-school medicine with his relationship that he had with Dr. Adamson, who showed him a lot of the old-school techniques that he still has in his wheelhouse if he needs them. AI is pretty much here to stay and it’s infiltrating every aspect of our lives — medicine is no exception. I would say it’s still in its infancy in the ER, but there are ways that it’s trying to be implemented. Like any other tool, it has potential to be used wisely and potential for disaster. We’re not really exploring the disastrous side of it yet but just what the realities are. The fear is that it will make the doctors more efficient, especially with things like charting, but then will that time go back to the patients or will they just have to see more patients? And so they’ll have even less time. That’s the challenge at this point.
How do you feel about it in your own industry?
I try not to think about it. I guess I’m probably in denial more than anything. I don’t have any place for it and I don’t really want to really know too much about it at this point.
We see a lightness to Robby this season. He’s involved in a situationship at work. This is a workplace drama. It hasn’t shown us the interior lives of its staff beyond the nuggets they share during their shift. How much do you want the viewers to know about them versus how much do you want your actors to just understand their characters?
It comes with the job. He’s not a monk. He’s in a relationship of convenience more than anything. I don’t think he’s a long-term planner. The fact that he hasn’t had a vacation in forever is proof of that. Robby is very good at putting on a good face until he’s not. I think what we’ll see over the course of the season is that facade start to slide.
It’s a process. The 15-hour nature of the show limits how much of that information you can dole out organically, but it also allows you to be authentic in terms of how much you actually learn about someone in a day. Most of us not just spilling our guts and saying our life story to the people we work with. As we start the season, we’ll think about: What is the journey we’re going to take this character on, and what information needs to be learned in order to achieve that? And then what medical stories will help maybe bring that out. You do it in little layers.
Is there something coming up that you think will be particularly illuminating?
There’s some stuff about Robby. We pulled back a lot on it, but we’ll learn a little bit about him. We’ll learn some things about Whitaker [Gerran Howell]. We know what Langdon is going through, his marriage.
After taking leave to seek treatment for prescription drug addiction, Dr. Frank Langdon (Patrick Ball) returns to work in “The Pitt.”
(Warrick Page / HBO Max)
To stay on Langdon — physicians and people in the healthcare profession are vulnerable to addiction for a variety of reasons. What was important for you in that storyline and what did you want to explore through him?
To show somebody who’s made a mistake and was doing their best to hide it as is sometimes the pattern of behavior. I don’t think most people enjoy their addiction. So, seeing someone who’s doing their best to try and heal themselves. Just because you’re going through the program and doing the steps, it doesn’t mean everyone’s going to welcome you back with open arms. There are still some bad feelings and you have to mend some bridges and fences along the way.
It’s not just Robby and Langdon. Langdon feels he owes a sort of mea culpa to almost everyone he works with, especially Santos [Isa Briones]. And whether or not she’s willing to accept that is debatable. Robby, obviously, has some really strong feelings about it because Langdon was his student, and he made Robby look kind of stupid. Robby is angry at himself for not seeing it.
How are you figuring out who’s going to shuffle in and out?
Some of it’s based on the reality; for instance — I was thinking of this today — next season would be Whitaker’s third year, so he has one more year to stay here, and then he would have to go. It’s really about where they are in their careers and what makes the most sense story-wise.
I want to talk about some of the procedures and cases that we’ll see this season because they’re pretty gnarly. Do you keep a log of cases and try to figure out how they can fit into the story as you go?
We never really start with the medicine. Sometimes we say the medicine is the wallpaper that reflects everything in the room, but what’s going on between the characters is really what’s at stake, and it’s either something going on between them and the patient, between the doctors and nurses, or internally. Ideally, it touches on a little bit of everything.
When we came back, I probably had 150 ideas of just cases. I don’t know how many of them we actually did. We had never done a hot toddler story, [where a child was overheated] but that is something that’s a real problem. That was one where we knew we were going to try and do that story, but whose is it going to be? Who does it reflect most? Then we work backwards into it. We pull from everywhere — things we think of, things we’ve heard, things we imagine. We don’t really do ripped-from-the-headlines, but we do things that seem like that because a lot of times we’re talking to professionals, asking them what was concerning them. What do they worry about? We’re extrapolating their concerns. That’s what happened with [Season 1’s] measles story. There was no measles outbreak when we wrote that story, but we knew, based on what was going on, that there would be eventually, and we just happened that the timing was in our favor.
Is there like a line you won’t cross in terms of squirm factor? Have you had to pull back?
I don’t think so, because we’ve never done anything for the sake of that. We’ve never done anything that’s not done in the ER. As long as it serves a story and a character, then I think it’s fair. We do something big for the finale that Abbot [Shawn Hatosy] and Robby are doing with a bunch of others — it takes all hands on deck. I’m interested to see how that comes out, and I’ve seen elements of it now that are terrific.
Can you share more of what kinds of topics or cases we’ll be seeing this season?
We did a sexual assault, [and] we’re looking at how budget cuts are affecting healthcare. There’s a story about someone who’s been rationing their insulin and the downsides of that.
When the One Big Beautiful Bill Act was signed into law by the president, did you have a lot of calls with professionals?
Oh, yeah, because it’s a huge issue. You figure out with the changes in the Affordable Care Act, if you suddenly have 8 to 10 million people that don’t have insurance, what’s going to happen is they’re going to stop going to their doctors. Anything that was an issue is going to get exacerbated by not being treated. So, where do they end up? Well, they’re going to end up in the ER, but they’re going to be even sicker than they would have been. We’re going to get more people, and their conditions are going to be worse. It only makes what’s already a strained system even more likely to break. Because we were just starting to shoot in the summertime, we could make some adjustments, but I don’t remember going back and changing things. We saw it coming.
I know there had been some discussion about an ICE story? Will we see that this season?
Yes, we have some ICE agents show up, and how that affects people in the hospital. That’s been a tricky one to try and get right without being heavy-handed and being fair to everyone on both sides of that conversation. What else do we do this year? Some fun stuff. The kind of things you would expect over the Fourth of July weekend.
How do you feel about the shipping that’s taking shape with “The Pitt” fan base?
I’m not on social media, I’m not really a part of that. My writers would tell me about things like that. The Langdon-Mel of it — I’m like, he’s married. That’s more of a big brother relationship. And Abbot and Robby — I just sort of shake my head. Our show’s not really like that. It’s not a show where people are sneaking off to have sex in a closet or anything. Those things are very subtle. And we do see a little bit this season between a couple of people, but it’s very much secondary because it’s not something we actually see, per se.
Just as he did last season, Noah Wyle is writing again this season. He’s also directing. Tell me what it’s like when you have the lead of your show involved in different aspects of the show’s creative elements?
It’s really great because he’s up to speed on everything. And because he is the centerpiece of the show, I rely on Noah a lot for guidance and help figuring out how to steer through all the icebergs. He’s a good writer and he’s a good director, and it just adds a whole other level to the writers room, in terms of the connection between us and the set. He’s there right up until, basically, we start shooting. Even when we are shooting, if he has a day off, he’s in the room or we’ll do meetings at lunchtime so he can join in and weigh in. It was Noah’s idea to do the Shema prayer for his breakdown. That was a very coordinated effort because I knew I was asking a lot of him. That’s what’s really nice about having Noah be a writer and a director. He has the vernacular to have these conversations about what he needs from me to get him to where he needs to be. It’s a very symbiotic relationship.
R. Scott Gemmill on the pressure that comes with having a breakout hit: “There’s a little bit of concern going into the second season because we were successful, you wonder, can you maintain that? But we try not to focus on that, and just really focus on the characters and the stories and do what we did the first season — tell really authentic, strong stories.”
(Christina House / Los Angeles Times)
Do you ever worry about him being overextended?
Yes. That’s why I don’t mind when he has a day off. But he’s just gonna fill it with work.
In Hollywood, when something’s a success, there’s an immediate impulse to figure out a way to broaden that success. Has there been talks of spinoffs, ways to build out the universe?
No, not really. We’ve talked about doing a night shift. In time, maybe that’s something we’ll explore. The show still has lots of life in it, so I wouldn’t want to distract from what we’re doing now. But I think there’s a potential to do all the craziness that comes out at night.
Like Dr. Al-Hashimi, you’ve had experience being the newcomer joining a well-oiled machine. Tell me about becoming a writer on “ER” in Season 6.
I hated it when I first went on. They had done so many stories already, and there were multiple stories told per episode, so they had gone through so many stories that it seemed like anything I suggested was already done. They all felt like Ivy League professors and I was a college dropout; I felt like I so didn’t belong there. I remember calling my wife and saying, “I hate this. This is horrible. I should never have left ‘Jag.’” But over time, I found my way and found my voice on the show.
That was the season with one of the episodes I revisit often — when Dr. Carter (Wyle) gets stabbed.
I remember having a big debate over whether Kellie Martin’s eyes should be open or closed. I was adamant that she had to have her eyes open. I’m glad I won, but that was intense. The whole show was very intense.
George Clooney has teased that he would be open to the idea of appearing on “The Pitt.” Could you see a world where that happens?
I take that with a grain of salt but, hey, I’m up for anything. I’ll try anything once.
What I appreciated about the season finale last year, especially in this world of TV where you feel like you need to have this epic cliffhanger, was how true to life it felt. Since you’ll be shooting the finale in January, what can you share about how you’re thinking about it?
There’s something really fun at the end of this season. I hope that we do it as a little Easter egg for the fans in the finale, so I’m looking forward to doing that.
The Duff Beer mascot, called Duffman, made his final appearance, delivering his last trademark “Oh yeah!”, during series 37’s episode Separation — a parody of Apple TV+’s Severance
More than 800 episodes of The Simpsons have aired since 1989(Image: Fox)
The Simpsons has announced the “permanent” retirement of a longtime character after nearly three decades on the air.
In the season 37 episode Separation — a parody of Apple TV+’s Severance — the Duff Beer mascot Duffman made his final appearance, delivering his last trademark “Oh yeah!”
The episode, which aired Sunday, features Barry Duffman entering the Simpson household to break the news to Homer, Marge, and their children—while simultaneously addressing viewers. Speaking in the third person, the Duff Beer spokesman revealed that the character was being officially retired.
“The Duff Corporation has, uh, retired that character forever,” he announced. “All the old forms of advertising are now passé. Corporate spokesmen, print ads, TV spots. Today’s kids can’t even sing the jingles.”
Voiced by Hank Azaria, Duffman is known for his red cape, utility belt lined with Duff beer cans, and exaggerated superhero persona. He first appeared in the 1997 episode The City of New York vs. Homer Simpson and remained a recurring presence through season 37.
In his final storyline, Duffman attempts to recruit Homer into a mysterious corporation called EOD, before ultimately deprogramming himself. He sheds the persona for good, appearing in civilian clothes after seemingly hanging up his cape, according to TVLine.
Duffman’s exit comes less than two months after another long-running Simpsons character met a more tragic end. Alice Glick, the First Church organist and a recurring character for 35 seasons over 34 years, died during a sermon in a recent episode.
The changes arrive amid ongoing fan debate over the show’s future, with criticism alternating between frustration over the deaths of minor characters and concern that the series continues indefinitely as the main cast’s voices audibly age. The show also sparked controversy in June 2025 after killing off Marge Simpson—though only in a flash-forward set years in the future.
In recent seasons, several other minor characters have also been written out, including Larry the Barfly, marking a notable shift in the long-running animated series’ approach to its extended cast.
In 2023, Bart’s longtime antagonist Sideshow Bob (voiced by Frasier star Kelsey Grammer) was killed off, but it was in another flash-forward in that year’s Treehouse Of Horror Halloween episode, which isn’t consider canonical.
Even as The Simpsons has moved to cull some of its less-popular characters, it has also brought back iconic faces in recent years, including the Albert Brooks–voiced Jacques, a French bowler who tried to score a strike with Marge.
In the woodland they ran into Kit Green who was knocked out by John, before the brothers found each other and the shotgun went off – shooting Cain in the stomach – but he still got up and went on to hunt John down.
Later at the hospital while he was getting treatment for the gun wound, Cain was given a shock diagnosis.
He was told that he had cancer and was set to face a battle ahead.
Emmerdale fans were left devastated for Cain, with one writing: “I literally said to my dad earlier I hope David and Cain are fine, David’s unknown and now Cains got cancer I hate my life hahaha.”
A second said: “Oh no, not Cain. I hope he gets better.”
A third commented: “Poor Cain, devastated for him.”
John finally paid for his crimes as the show sparked a new whodunnit.
His death was revealed as Victoria Sugden was seen standing over John’s body in the woods but who killed him remains a mystery.
Another exit hint came when Becky Swain was finally arrested for her crimes – by her wife Lisa who was in an ambulance bed at the time, handcuffing her to herself to stop her fleeing.
Elsewhere, a soap favourite returned from the grave tonight.
Throughout the episode a man in a hooded raincoat could be seen with a woman tied up in the back of his van.
The woman knocked herself out on a tree while fleeing him, and was found to have a distinctive tree tattoo – that was also seen on Corrie’s Shona Platt, hinting at a connection between the pair.
But the big shock came when the man’s identity was revealed as Graham Foster.
Graham famously died in Emmerdale in 2020 when he was murdered by Pierce Harris, his body left to rot in woodland in a huge whodunnit mystery.
He was seen in the hospital having got Joe Tate there, and Joe appears to have seen a glimpse of Graham before he slipped away.
Fans of the show will have to wait to find out where Graham has been and how he is linked to the mystery new woman.
Arsenal manager Mikel Arteta praises Gabriel Magalhaes and Declan Rice’s mentality, and says Arsenal showed maturity after their 3-2 win against Bournemouth at Vitality Stadium.
The Night Manager has returned to BBC One, with a tense clip from episode two showing villain Teddy Dos Santos complaining about someone making his life difficult
The Night Manager could be in for a shocking twist, with a teaser clip showing baddie Teddy Dos Santos hinting that he wants someone killed.
The BBC drama, which stars Tom Hiddleston as MI6 agent Jonathan Pine, has returned for its second series, a decade after the first series captivated audiences. The initial series followed Pine, a night manager at a Cairo hotel, who was enlisted by Angela Burr from the Foreign Office (Olivia Colman) to infiltrate the inner circle of arms dealer Richard Roper (Hugh Laurie).
The second series, which premiered on New Year’s Day, picks up several years later, and a gripping snippet from the second episode shows Pine coming face-to-face with his new adversary.
Pine is now a low-ranking MI6 officer overseeing a discreet surveillance unit in London. However, things take a turn when he identifies one of Roper’s former mercenaries, with a synopsis stating it “prompts a call to action and leads Pine to a violent encounter with a new player: Colombian businessman Teddy Dos Santos.”
An exclusive preview of the second episode reveals him covertly listening in as Teddy (Diego Calva) engages in a sinister conversation with a General, reports the Express.
Teddy informs the General that a man named Alejandro Gualteros is “making my life difficult”, claiming that he has frozen his bank accounts and is attempting to inspect one of his shipments.
“That cannot happen,” he cautions.
The General reassures Teddy that he’ll handle it, to which the arms dealer responds: “Make it quick. No money. No operation.”
In a conversation between Teddy and Pine, Pine masquerades as a businessman who has spent his career in a Hong Kong bank, aiming to gain the villain’s trust.
“You’re English?” Teddy asks during their encounter at a tennis club. “I’m from Hong Kong,” Pine responds. “Swiss Bank. I’ve been there for 10 years.”
When questioned about his presence in Colombia, he coolly answers: “Let’s just say it’s getting more complex to work with our Chinese friends. So I’m seeking new opportunities.”
“You are a risk taker,” Teddy observes. “In life as in on the court,” Pine retorts with a smile.
The latest series of the drama also stars actress and model Camila Morrone as Roxana Bolaños. She portrays a businesswoman who is close to Teddy and reluctantly assists Pine in penetrating his arms operation.
The plot summary concludes: “As allegiances splinter, Pine races to expose a conspiracy designed to destabilise a nation. And with betrayal lurking around every corner, he must decide whose trust he needs to earn and how far he’s willing to go before it’s too late.”
For the latest showbiz, TV, movie and streaming news, go to the new Everything Gossip website.
This article contains spoilers from the series finale of “Stranger Things.”
At this moment, somewhere on the internet, “Stranger Things” fans are rabidly and rapidly giving their feedback on how the series resolved the years-long plight of horrors faced by their favorite ragtag troop from Hawkins. But for Noah Schnapp, it didn’t matter how the story concluded. When filming on the final season wrapped last December, it was a bleak ending. At least initially.
The Netflix drama, to this point, had taken up half of Schnapp’s life. When he was 11, he began portraying Will Byers, the baby-faced boy who was abducted while biking home at night from a friend’s house and pulled into an alternate dimension known as the Upside Down. It was the catalyst that linked Will to its powerful creatures that tormented him and his inner circle for years. All the while, Schnapp and his fictional alter ego became increasingly intertwined. Like Will, he was a boy coming of age in his own upside down dimension — fame — while stepping into his true self.
“I will never forget that last day and how that last scene felt — it was just so surreal,” he said. “The goodbye was hard. I grappled with this feeling like my life is over and I’m in a crisis, this is my whole identity and all I’ve ever known, and now it’s ending.”
But for Will, “Stranger Things,” created by Matt and Ross Duffer, concluded on more hopeful terms. He began the two-hour series finale — released in the closing hours of 2025, both on the platform and in select movie theaters nationwide — knowing he had no secrets that could be weaponized against him, making him better positioned to help put an end to the Upside Down — and its otherwordly creatures.
Over two separate interviews from New York — a video call and, later, a phone call 20 minutes after I viewed the final episode — Schnapp discussed the complexity of amassing fame as a child actor, the parallel sexual identity journeys he and his character took, and life after “Stranger Things.”
Lucas (Caleb McLaughlin), Nancy (Natalia Dyer), Dustin (Gaten Matarazzo), Steve (Joe Keery), Jonathan (Charlie Heaton), Mike (Finn Wolfhard), Will (Noah Schnapp) and Robin (Maya Hawke) in “Stranger Things.”
(Netflix)
How does it feel to have it finally be out there?
Oh, man, it’s such a relief, honestly. No more worrying. It’s a happy, happy relief.
How did you spend the past two hours? I know you saw the finale with the cast already. Did you watch it again with the public?
Absolutely not. I’m celebrating the New Year, trying not to over stress about what people are saying and stay distracted.
So you’re not going to look at fan reaction tonight?
Probably not. My friends are texting me already, like, “Oh my God, I loved it,” or “Oh my god, I’m sobbing right now.” But no, I haven’t checked anything online.
We get a glimpse of Will’s fate. This idea that he finds his place, deep happiness and acceptance … and maybe love. What did you think of Will’s ending?
I think it was perfect. It felt really hopeful to see what the future can hold for a character like that, that I also kind of relate to, at least in terms of sexual identity. It was nice to see him get his happy ending and learn that it was it was never about Mike. It was about finding the person that was right for him, and in the meantime, kind of just loving himself. I’m just happy he got his happy ending. That’s that’s what he deserved.
Do you think he’ll remain good friends with Mike, Dustin, Caleb, Max — everyone?
Of course. They are forever tied together. Their books stand on the shelf, all next to each other, and especially Mike. They have that conversation which was actually written — now I can say it. It was not originally in the script, but I had the Duffers include it.
Oh, tell me about that. Why did you think it was important for them to have that conversation?
That scene on the tower, it’s a short little moment, but I felt like, with the coming out scene, there wasn’t enough closure between Will and Mike. So they included that moment, just so you get to see that Mike loves him as a best friend, and they will always be friends, which was nice. This relationship has been a slow burn for so many years, and so many people have an attachment and hopes for how it would come to a close. The coming out scene was so focused on on Will’s feelings that there wasn’t time for them to have a separate conversation, so I just felt like it was necessary for them to close out their specific chapter together. It feels very real to many situations I’ve had in my life where I’ve had a best friend that I’ve fallen for, and they ended up being straight and they love me still, just the same. It doesn’t make things weird. It felt very authentic to many experiences I’ve had in my life, and I’m glad it ended positively for him.
Series finales leave viewers to fill in the blanks beyond the chapters they close. We don’t have a real sense of how these characters are going to process the aftermath of what they’ve experienced, or how they’ll handle the trauma. Is that something you think about?
Of course. The story leads the audience to hope that these characters come to acceptance and peace after all these years of suffering. We end together as a group, this show started together as a group in Mike’s basement, and it’s right back to that core lesson of the show — believing in the magic of childhood and friendship and nurturing that and keeping that alive. And when they all say, “I believe that Eleven still exists,” I think it’s a metaphor that they’re saying they believe that the magic of childhood will exist forever and they hold on to that and take that with them into their lives.
I want to talk more about Eleven. Before we get to the theory that Mike has, what do you remember about shooting the scene where Eleven decides to stay back? Each one of you were so emotional in that moment.
I think of Millie as my own sister, so I tried to just make it feel as real as possible for me and imagine what that would feel like to see my own sister be taken from me. And it was so easy to access the emotions for that, because Millie does feel like family to me. I personally believe that she [Eleven] is still alive. I am hopeful about it. What I think is interesting is so many people expected so many people to die, a big massacre —
Did you think that it would go that way, at any point?
Our show has never been a show that’s killing off main characters left and right. I think, too, the big part of this season was tying it back into Season 1 and bringing things full circle. Eleven’s goodbye scene with Mike felt really perfectly full-circle and not traumatic and left the viewers with a question, but still hopeful and satisfied. I’m sure everyone’s going to have lots to say, positive and negative as they always do — that’s OK — but I personally loved how the Duffers closed it.
Earlier in the episode, there’s the exchange between Will and Henry, where Will is in his mind, and he sees what happened to Henry in that cave and is trying to appeal to his humanity. What did that unlock for you about the journey of these two young men and how they navigated their respective traumas?
It was satisfying for me as a viewer to understand these two characters, though, they are so polar opposite in their places in the story, are really inherently the same and come from the same emotions and sensitivity. The only difference is that the villain gives into this evil and Will fights it. It was just really cool as an actor to play those parallels and shooting it, we had to move in the same physical ways when his hand goes back in the same way — and watching how he [Jamie Campbell Bower] did a scene and matching it perfectly was really fun.
There were quite the needle drops in this episode from Prince — “When Doves Cry” and “Purple Rain.” Also “Heroes” from David Bowie. Were these songs played a lot on the set while filming this last episode?
“Heroes” by David Bowie, they were playing over and over on those last takes. “Purple Rain,” they were playing out loud. Usually we don’t get to actually listen to songs while we’re filming, but just to get a vibe, they were playing it on the speakers while we were in the truck. It was a fun episode to film, and also so difficult because they didn’t give us the freaking script for Episode 8 for so long. They were so lock and key about it. And you’re reading it in parts. We didn’t get a screener for it, so I only got to watch it once recently. It felt like watching a brand new episode when I watched it. When those credits hit … man.
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1.Will Byers (Schnapp) “comes out” to his inner circle in Episode 7.(Netflix)2.Will (Schnapp) is embraced by his brother and friends — Eleven (Millie Bobby Brown), Jonathan (Charlie Heaton) and Mike (Finn Wolfhard).(Netflix)
Will had a big moment in Episode 7. Fans have long felt that the undercurrent of Will’s journey was his sexuality. How was it to face that moment as Will?
I knew this scene and this moment was coming for years, and I’d just been anxiously awaiting it, to see how it would be written, how I would perform in it. I’d been building it up in my head for years. I remember reading it alone in my room for the first time and I just cried. Then in the performance, I was so nervous because I always thought it would be a one-on-one with Joyce, but it was the full cast. It also came at a time close to when I came out personally and I never had that moment to come out to the whole cast in my own life. It almost felt like this extra pressure of, “Oh, it’s this personal thing too that I’m now having to share with them” and “are they gonna judge me personally for …” I don’t know, there’s all these layers of pressure for the performance, and the personal part of it and making sure it’s good.
We were filming the scene on the stages at like 3 a.m. and I was so tired and worried that I would mess it up, but it was cathartic as hell. I totally felt a stronger bond with everyone in the cast. Regardless of the critics and the excitement of the show, this is actually going to touch so many kids out there. If I was sitting there watching that at 12 years old with my parents and saw how all the characters hug him after it and embrace him and cheer him on and say, “We love you,” I might have come out right there and then too. I think this will have a real positive impact on so many young little boys and girls out there like me.
How would you say your relationship to your identity has changed as you’ve gotten older? How did Will help you? And how do you think you helped Will?
When I was younger, I always felt this pressure — like interviewers would ask me, “Do you feel a personal connection? Anything personally close to the character?” I would always kind of deflect. And I would say, “Well, no, he’s [Will] not queer. He’s just growing up slower, and he’s suffering from his trauma.” I felt defensive over Will, to almost make sure that he wasn’t gay because I felt it personally, and I was kind of like compensating for it. Our stories there were intertwined and, eventually, as I got older, I noticed how people, they really dive deeper into that sexual identity for him. And I saw people with such positive reactions to it. It definitely had an impact on me, like, “Oh, people don’t care as much as I used to think they did.” It helped me in my own journey. I think having accepted it publicly before having done this scene, changed everything for me. It allowed me to to fully be vulnerable and feel all the real emotions as much as possible in that scene, which was my goal, to make it feel just like I was living it. If I was still hiding, I wouldn’t have been able to really authentically show that.
Noah Schnapp on connecting with his character’s coming out journey: “I think having accepted it publicly before having done this scene, changed everything for me. It allowed me to to fully be vulnerable and feel all the real emotions as much as possible in that scene, which was my goal, to make it feel just like I was living it.”
(Evelyn Freja / For The Times)
You said you knew about Will’s sexuality for years — was it since the start of the show or did that conversation come later?
To be honest, we never sat down and had an explicit conversation of “Look, your character is gay.” It was more just hinted at from the beginning. I always thought about it, but pushed it down because of my own internal things. I think by Season 3 and 4, it became so obvious that it didn’t have to be said. It was just clear. I think once we got to Season 5, there was this unspoken, agreed upon thing that it was coming. It’s been building to this moment of acceptance so it’s going to be this season. It wasn’t in the first six after the table read, so then I started needling them, like, “Is it in [Episode] 7? Is it in 8? How are you going to write it? I need to see, I need to see, I need to see.” And they’re like, “just let us write it.” They were nervous. I could tell they were scared to have others see it because I’m sure it’s hard to write something like that and not make it corny or inauthentic.
Because most people don’t have a big coming out moment like that.
That’s also the thing. What I struggled with in the scene was I wanted to make sure I’m not coming out as Noah in 2023 on TikTok. This is Will coming out in 1987, or whatever year it is — it’s a totally different landscape, and you really have to separate the two as much as it was part of my own journey.
Your character is coming out at a time when he would be considered, for lack of a better term, the monster.
Totally. It’s such a good queer character. It’s so well-written, with the monster and Vecna as the parallel of his own identity; to harness these powers, he has to accept his own inner struggles.
How does your experience of coming out as a young adult under the spotlight parallel the fears Will feels in this fictional world populated by monsters?
It was different. It’s the pressures of the job and the career. I was like, “Why do I have to talk to my agents and my publicists about my sexual identity, who I want to be with in bed?” But they’re like, “No, this is something you have to consider because it affects the roles you get and how people perceive you. This is a conversation we have to have if you tell the public or if you just keep it personal.”
With Will, in the ‘80s, he’s suffering from this whole AIDS epidemic that was going on during the Reagan administration, where the president wouldn’t even acknowledge that gay people existed. If you were, if you did come out, people thought that you were contagious and had a disease and would get other people sick. It was a totally different landscape. I really made sure to educate myself on that difference. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t trying to take some personal anecdote into it. Right before the scene, I reread all the “coming out” texts I sent and tried to listen to the songs that I would listen to when I was trying to build up the courage to come out to my mom. I did try to bring in myself to [that scene], but also understand that it’s not exactly the same.
Is it too personal to ask you to share the name of one of the songs?
This is so embarrassing, but I listened to “Brave” by Sarah Bareilles because she’s like, “Say what you want to say, and let the words fall out …” It would always just give me the confidence. Every time. Every person I came out to, I listened to that before and was like, “OK, I can do it now.”
In Vol. 1 of the final season of “Stranger Things,” Will Byers (Schnapp) develops significant powers that allow him to control Demogorgons and fight Vecna by channeling the Upside Down’s hive mind.
(Netflix)
I want to return to that other moment this season, which had the fandom on the edge of their seat: Will coming into his powers. Have you seen the TikToks of people recording themselves as they watched that reveal?
Yeah. I’m fully on TikTok, but I’ve made sure to have my friends keep me up to date and send me the edits and what people are saying. My friends were sending me TikToks to be, like, “Noah, people are saying Will is hot.” I’m like, [bashfully hides his face with his hands] “What?” I knew people would freak out at the reveal, it’s such an exciting moment. But I did not at all expect people would be calling Will Byers hot. That’s funny, but it’s cool. As a kid, I always wanted to be the Spider-Man, and this was kind of my Spider-Man-superhero “Save the Day” moment. And it’s so fun doing that stuff because there are no rules. And the Duffers definitely put a lot of trust into me with that this year.
It was a demanding sequence — you popped your blood vessels.
I look back at some of those scenes and I was giving too much for what it was, these little moments. You never know how they cut it together and what ends up being important and what ends up being a tiny little moment. A lot of this stuff is very physical that they have me do, and it was me screaming all night, at the top of my lungs. Even the way my neck tensed up — I couldn’t, move my neck after some of these days because you’re straining.
The show is, in part, about kids coming of age. Tell me about your upbringing and life in Scarsdale, N.Y., before “Stranger Things.”
I had a very normal childhood. All the guys were into sports; I tried doing that growing up, and I just hated it and never felt like I was good at it or fit into those boys and what they were doing. I remember my dad being like, “He’s gonna do sports.” And my mom was like, “No, stop putting him in sports. He’s picking the flowers at the outside of the baseball field. That’s not for him. Let’s put him in the arts.” They put me in this class where you do acting, singing, dancing. And I just thrived. I did that for a few years and the teacher saw that I loved it so much and recommended that I audition in front of an agent. I started doing real auditions. By fifth grade, sixth grade, I got my first films. It was a great place to grow up and having that normal childhood and not growing up too fast was always very important to me. And still now, that’s why I’m in college and didn’t just rush into adult life.
You say that, but your first big on screen role was as Tom Hanks’ son in ”Bridge of Spies,” which was directed by Steven Spielberg. What stands out from that experience?
I just look back and think like, how crazy that my first thing was with these legends of Hollywood. I remember Tom Hanks never sticking to a script; he always just made it work for what was right for the scene, right for the character. They’re just so down to earth, such great people. And what a place to start.
Would you say you were ambitious as a child? How did you view the acting thing?
I looked back at a video the other day — I was 9 or 10. I went to a pond with my mom, and I was like, “One day, I’m gonna be a huge actor. And following my dreams.” It made me realize, when I was younger, I did have that passion and hope to do this long term.
“I went to a pond with my mom, and I was like, ‘One day, I’m gonna be a huge actor. And following my dreams,’” Schnapp recalls. “It made me realize, when I was younger, I did have that passion and hope to do this long term.”(Evelyn Freja / For The Times)
I will never know what it’s like to be a young person thrust into the global spotlight. I want you to pretend like I am an alien or a Demogorgon with no concept of this world, and tell me what it has been like growing up in the spotlight.
My problem was I’m so unapologetically myself, and I’ve always been like that, so I never learned to be properly media trained and curated into a certain way. I always just existed and did what I wanted to do. I learned over time, it’s good to create some privacy and distance for your own mental health. When the show came out, I was 10 years old. I was at camp and I didn’t have any contact with the outside world and my mom would send me emails that I was getting fan pages and blue check marks, and people started recognizing me, and I loved it. I love my fans so much. I would get their phone numbers and meet up with them, and my parents would be like, “Noah, this is not normal. You need to create boundaries with them.” Now I look back, and more of my life has been this than not now, so it’s all I’ve ever known was being famous and it just feels normal.
Coming of age on its own is so hard. You’re leaving one stage of your life and going into another. But to do that and have everything you say, your mistakes magnified, seems overwhelming.
It’s the worst; the fact that it’s all public, every weird look I’ve worn, every bad thing I’ve said. I hate that, but it is what it is. That’s what it is growing up in the spotlight, everything has its pros and cons.
Has there a moment where it felt too overwhelming? How do you protect yourself?
Every few weeks I’m like, “Oh, this is too overwhelming. I can’t do this anymore.” When I put my phone away, it all becomes OK. I learned that social media and all that is not real life. It just feels like so much pressure when you live so deep in your phone and what everyone’s saying and having to live up to these standards and feel like your life is over if you don’t do this, or this person doesn’t like whatever. Trying to please everyone in this industry is impossible and the only way to accept that is to detach from the online world and just live in the real world. I remember how much I love it and how many real, loving fans support me, and how I actually make a difference in a lot people’s lives, genuinely, and that actually matters.
Noah Schnapp says Winona Ryder, who played his mother Joyce on “Stranger Things,” was a motherly figure in real life, too. “I adore her truly.”
(Netflix)
Winona Ryder plays your mom, and she knows what it’s like navigating fame at a young age. Did she give you any advice or was she protective of you on set?
So protective. She always says, she never had kids, so we were her secondary children. I look back at our texts from 2017, when the show was first starting, and I had to do my first crying scene or all these “first” things I was so nervous for, and she would send these paragraphs being like, “Oh, sweetie, you’re nervous. Don’t worry a second. Come meet me before the scene. I’ll sit down with you and we’ll run through it. I’ll make sure you’re OK.” I remember I sent her a picture and I had this rope burn from Season 2 because I was screaming in a chair and my wrists were all scabbed and I was crying because it hurt, and she ran me to the set medic and stayed with me all night and made sure I was OK. She was such a mother figure to me, and I adore her truly. Even now, it’s nice to see our relationship has grown from her being protective over me to me feeling protective over her.
We see Nancy, Jonathan, Steve and Robin up on the rooftop talking about not losing touch, making a point of staying in contact. There’s also Dustin’s valedictorian speech. Each had moments that felt like they paralleled the ending of this unique experience you’ve all gone through together. Did you all make a similar pact?
Oh, absolutely. That day of graduation, we felt like we were really graduating. I loved the coda part of the episode. That last day of shooting was hard, when I was putting my book on the shelf, that was when they told me, “OK, Noah, this is your last shot.” I broke down. I couldn’t do the freaking take, every time, it was just so emotional. Luckily, there’s one that I’m little less emotional, but that day was just so sad. I remember when they said “Cut!”, and that was it, and we — me, Caleb, Gaten, Finn and Sadie — standing in that little set, arms around each other, huddled up, not saying any words, just crying. It was complete silence outside. There were hundreds of people waiting [outside on the set] for us to cheer and celebrate, and we were waiting in there, like, “We go out when we’re ready.” We all agreed, gathered ourselves and walked out of that set to 100 people cheering, screaming, there was confetti dropping, clapping and we gave speeches. It didn’t feel real. You’re so in it for so many years, and then it’s just over.
What do you remember about the day after wrapping?
We ended up sleeping on the set. We made a little fort in the D&D basement. It was so cute, so wholesome — a perfect way to end it. I remember driving back with Caleb [McLaughlin, who plays Lucas] the next morning and he dropped me off. It was really foggy that day, really gloomy, and just so somber and tense. And we said goodbye so quietly. It felt like we left a funeral, like grieving something. The next day, I had to fly to L.A. for a call back, and I was just sitting alone in a hotel room — I felt so empty. This is all I’ve this all I’ve ever been attached to, this is my whole identity, my whole life. But then, the next day, I was like, “Oh, life keeps going. And it’s OK.” It was really just that one day after that was tough.
To your point, this isn’t your first professional on screen role, but it is your longest. How do you feel you’ve grown as an actor across these 10 years, these five seasons?
This show has taught me so much. When I was younger, I felt like scared to have any kind of opinion or perspective or speak up on what I felt was right for the character; now, I’m like, “No, I played this character for 10 years. I have a right to say, ‘No, he would wear this’ or ‘he would say this’ or ‘this scene doesn’t work or represent the story well.’” Just learning to not be bound to the script; it’s OK to play and explore and try different things. That’s what makes it feel authentic when you have those spontaneous little moments that aren’t written. I’m excited to continue to learn and grow in different ways in film and theater.
So it feels like the right time for you to say goodbye to Will?
Totally. It’s kind of crazy how right of a time it is. I’m graduating in a few months at the same time as this show is ending. I’m an adult now. It all happened at the right time, and this season came at the perfect time with my sexual identity journey. Everything was timed really well.
Are you thinking about what you want next? The kind of projects you want to do or the way you want to move through your career?
Oh my God, absolutely, the second I wrapped last year, I was like, “What’s next?” I’d love to do theater. I loved doing that as a kid and want to explore that. And do other films. But no set path, I’m just excited for what’s next.
The Duffer Brothers call you in 10 years and say we have an idea for how to revisit Will Byers, are you in?
I think my work is done with that character. The story for him has been told. So if that ever happened, I would honestly probably stray away from that. But of course, I would love to work with the Duffers again on another project. But this story is done.
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As the new year begins, novelists send characters to great heights in Tibet and Wyoming, to the great depths of the 19th century Atlantic and back in time, to early 20th century Pakistan. Meanwhile, nonfiction authors contemplate a Spanish shipwreck, a racially motivated murder, the origins of great ideas and how laughter can change our lives. Happy reading!
Guo, whose 2017 memoir “Nine Continents” detailed her difficult road to personal and artistic freedom, pours that experience into Ishmaelle, a young woman from England’s coast who joins the crew of a whaling ship named the Nimrod. Yes, it’s a retelling of Herman Melville’s “Moby Dick” and yes, it’s well worth your time. By adding in new characters while adhering to the original story, the author creates something new, strange and thrilling.
Set in 1869, when Europeans were forbidden to enter Tibet, this slow-paced yet tense novel follows the perspectives of Balram, an Indian surveyor, and Katharine, a woman of mixed English and Indian heritage, as they both attempt expeditions for different purposes. During their treks both characters meet a man named Chetak, whose eerie folkloric tales underscore the power structures they’ll each have to surmount before reaching their goals.
While most of this stunning book takes place in Pakistan, an important section leads two brothers to college at Dartmouth in the United States, a place about as far in every respect from their Rawalpindi origins as possible. Mueenuddin, whose gift for satire shines whether he’s describing society matrons or gangsters, never loses sight of his theme: How do any of us ever manage to justify our treatment of the underserved?
Crux: A Novel By Gabriel Tallent Riverhead: 416 pp., $30 (Jan. 20)
A “crux” refers to the toughest point in a climb; it also means a decision point, as well as a place where two things cross. For Tallent’s sophomore novel, two characters who are climbers have reached an important moment in their teenage lives. Daniel and Tamma (he’s straight, she’s queer) have been close friends for years, scrabbling all over Joshua Tree peaks, but as their home lives and individual paths diverge, their bond wavers.
Vigil: A Novel By George Saunders Random House: 192 pp., $28 (Jan. 27)
It seems unfair that, after his spectacular “Lincoln in the Bardo,” Saunders returns with not just another novel featuring a ghost, but with a new novel even more spectacular than the last. “Who else could you have been but exactly who you are?” says the newly incarnated Jill “Doll” Blaine, sent to comfort nefarious oil tycoon K. J. Boone in his last hours alive — a statement that in no way diminishes the political urgency of this spare, lovely book.
We’ve all heard that laughter is the best medicine; funny stuff isn’t merely diversion, but essential to our health. Author Duffy, who hosts the TED Talks podcast “How to Be a Better Human,” believes that anyone, from age 10 to age 103 (he gives examples of each), can make you laugh, help you form community and even lead you to make better decisions. One of the latter? Learn to laugh at yourself; it can signal “general intelligence and verbal creativity.”
By Sylvester Allen Jr. and Belle Boggs University of North Carolina Press: 296 pp., $30 (Jan. 27)
The titular Outlaw was the first Black constable of Graham, N.C. In 1870, he was killed by lynching by members of the local Ku Klux Klan, no doubt in part due to his efforts to build coalition between members of different races and social classes. Allen, a native of Graham and a playwright who wrote a drama based on Outlaw’s legacy, and Boggs, a scholar, connect the terrorism and hatred behind this man’s murder to the present day.
By George Newman Simon & Schuster: 304 pp., $30 (Jan. 27)
So many cartoons depict great ideas using light bulbs that we’ve forgotten many of the greatest ideas come about from long deliberation and careful winnowing. Canadian professor Newman uses archaeological terms for the process: surveying, gridding, digging and sifting. Who knew that Jordan Peele rewrote “Get Out” 400 times, or that Paul Simon composed his “Graceland” album by combing through all of his previous work?
In 1708 the San José, a treasure-laden Spanish galleon, sunk off the coast of Colombia. In 2015 a man named Roger Dooley found the galleon’s wreck and brought back artifacts proving it. Unfortunately, with little education, few bona fides and a sketchy reputation, Dooley received no credit for the discovery. Sancton tracked down Dooley — now in his 80s and somewhat reclusive — and thus is able to provide a fascinating conclusion to the tale.
By Jennifer Breheny Wallace Portfolio: 288 pp., $30 (Jan. 27)
Loneliness pervades our society and to heal it, people need to feel that they actually matter to others — something author Wallace saw when she researched and wrote her 2023 bestseller “Never Enough,” which focused on adolescents and burnout. Now Wallace shares her findings from talking with people of all ages and hearing what a difference it makes when connections are made and individuals are recognized for even the smallest contributions.
Patrick is a freelance critic and author of the memoir “Life B.”
First clue that someone is serious about pingpong: They call it table tennis.
Second clue: They bring their own paddle.
Timothée Chalamet dropped a third clue on movie sets all over the globe. To prepare for his role in the delightfully frenetic “Marty Supreme,” the two-time Oscar nominee traveled for years with a table in tow, training and presumably enjoying the sport at the center of the current holiday season hit.
Director Josh Safdie enlisted the husband-and-wife table-tennis teaching tandem of Diego Schaaf and Wei Wang — a former U.S. Olympian — to elevate Chalamet’s game as well as serve as technical advisors on set.
But Chalamet was already playing nearly well enough to emulate a world champion on screen. He’d taken lessons and done his homework — setting up a table in the living room of his New York apartment and playing throughout the pandemic.
“Everything I was working on, it was this secret,” Chalamet told the Hollywood Reporter. “I had a table in London while I was making ‘Wonka.’ On ‘Dune: Part Two,’ I had a table in Budapest [and] Jordan. I had a table in Abu Dhabi. I had a table at the Cannes Film Festival for ‘The French Dispatch.’”
It seems implausible that Chalamet was immersed in table tennis while also learning to sing and play guitar for the role of Bob Dylan in “A Complete Unknown.”
“If anyone thinks this is cap, as the kids say — if anyone thinks this is made up — this is all documented, and it’ll be put out,” he said. “These were the two spoiled projects where I got years to work on them. This is the truth. I was working on both these things concurrently.”
Wherever Chalamet found the time, Schaaf was impressed by the result.
“He was singularly dedicated to getting this to be the same quality as the rest of the movie,” Schaaf told the Hollywood Reporter.
Eschewing a stunt double for the table tennis scenes was a point of pride for Chalamet. The only concession to modern moviemaking was that several of the longer sequences during games were choreographed without a ball, which was added later via computer-generated imagery (CGI).
“We realized it had to be scripted to be able to film it,” Schaaf told the Washington Post. “And because it was scripted, we had to practice it first with a real ball. He had to understand the physical layout of the point: Where does he have to go? When does he have to go there? When you later on do [visual effects] and put the ball in there, it’s critical that the player goes to the right place.”
Schaaf said about 60 points were scripted.
“We needed a lot of rehearsal, and I was amazed,” he said. “Timothée wound up getting a better feel for it than most professional players because professional players take the cue from the ball. You take the ball away, they all were like ‘What is the timing?’
“Of course, they have a good sense of timing and then they learned it quickly. But Timothée was right there on top of it.”
The on-screen rival of Chalamet’s character, Marty Mauser, is Koto Endo, portrayed by real-life Japanese table tennis champion Koto Kawaguchi. Their dynamic approximated the real-life rivalry between 1950s U.S. champion Marty Reisman and Japan’s Hiroji Satoh.
In her review of “Marty Supreme,” Times film critic Amy Nicholson noted that well-struck pingpong balls travel up to 70 mph.
“Set in 1952 New York, this deranged caper races after a money-grubbing table tennis hustler (he prefers ‘professional athlete’) who argues like he plays, swatting away protests and annoying his adversaries to exhaustion,” she wrote.
Nicholson offers that Reisman would be pleased by the movie, “which time-travels audiences back seven decades to when American table tennis players were certain bright days were ahead.
“As an athlete, Chalamet seems to have lost muscle for the role. Yet as funny as it is to see a guy this scrawny carry himself like Hercules, he leaps and strikes with conviction.”
Nothing gives an actor — or an athlete — self-assurance like practice, repetitions and rehearsals. Chalamet’s paddle performance is proof.
For “Malcolm in the Middle” fans and the Walt Disney Co., 151 episodes weren’t enough.
The beloved sitcom, which ran seven seasons on Fox in the early aughts, is returning for a four-episode arc on Hulu April 10. The reunion brings back such viewer favorites as Bryan Cranston as Hal, Frankie Muniz as Malcolm, Jane Kaczmarek as Lois, and a couple of Malcolm’s TV siblings.
The limited series — “Malcolm in the Middle: Life’s Still Unfair” — is set nearly 20 years after the original went off the air. Muniz’s character, Malcolm, is beckoned back to his dysfunctional family to help celebrate Hal and Lois’ 40th wedding anniversary.
Disney acquired the rights to 20th Century Fox studio programs after buying much of Rupert Murdoch’s entertainment assets in 2019. The deal gave Disney such blockbusters as “The Simpsons” and “Avatar.” Recently, the Burbank entertainment giant has dipped into the Fox vault to mine the trend of comfort food TV for millennials, boomers and Gen Z. Executives have watched nostalgic programming take off on streaming services, including Disney+ and Hulu.
Jane Kaczmarek as Lois, Bryan Cranston as Hal, and Erik Per Sullivan who played Dewey in the original “Malcolm in the Middle” on Fox.
(FOX)
A recent study from National Research Group found that about 60% of all TV consumed is library content.
The NRG study found that, among Gen Z, 40% of respondents said they gravitated to older shows because they are comforting and nostalgic. Disney’s own research has shown that a quarter of the shows young people list as their favorites were produced before 2010.
Disney’s ABC is also bringing back the quirky hospital sitcom, “Scrubs,” on Feb. 25. That comedy, set in the fictional Sacred Heart Hospital, will reprise the bromance between Zach Braff and Donald Faison’s characters, which the pair have recreated recently in T-Mobile TV commercials.
The show, which ran from October 2001 to March 2010, was also produced by 20th Television along with Bill Lawrence’s Doozer Productions.
Sarah Chalke will return, and John C. McGinley will guest star. The show will run on ABC, and a day later on Disney’s Hulu.
Most of the original “Malcolm” cast returns for the limited series except notably Erik Per Sullivan, who played Dewey. He’s no longer an actor so the part now is played by Caleb Ellsworth-Clark.
In the show, Malcolm has a daughter, played by Keeley Karsten, and a girlfriend, played by Kiana Madeira.
The Wilkerson’s classic mid-century house in Studio City, which served as an exterior for the show, reportedly was renovated years ago.
The original series ran on Fox from January 2000 to May 2006. Those episodes stream on Hulu.
Los Angeles Times’ former television critic, Howard Rosenberg, in 2000 called “Malcolm in the Middle” the “smartest, sharpest-written, most original comedy of the season.”
The reboot is produced by Disney Television Studios and New Regency. Linwood Boomer, who created the original series, also returned as writer and executive producer. Ken Kwapis directs the four episodes and also serves as an executive producer.
Beyond reviving the shows, Disney has also collaborated with advertisers to make throwback commercials to run in classic films on its streaming platforms and TV networks.
Staff writer Stephen Battaglio contributed to this report.
A funny thing about this year’s best films: Half of them are adaptations. As a movie lover who’s always hunting for new talent, new ideas and new stimuli, I used to view that as creative inertia. But 2025 has changed my mind.
Now I see artists drawing inspiration from the past to show that Hollywood should trust the sturdy bones that have kept it running for over a century: good yarns, bold casting, films that don’t feel made by focus groups or doomsaying bean-counters (or, God help us, AI), but by blood and sweat.
Our picks for this year’s best in arts and entertainment.
From original tales to radical reworkings of classics both high-falutin’ and raucously lowbrow, these 10 filmmakers all know that the most vital part of the storytelling business has stayed exactly the same. They have to wow an audience. And they did.
1. ‘Sinners’
Michael B. Jordan as twins Smoke and Stack in the movie “Sinners.”
(Warner Bros. Pictures)
A period-piece-vampire-musical mashup could have been discordant, but writer-director Ryan Coogler confidently makes all three genres harmonize. In “Sinners,” Coogler double-casts his longtime collaborator Michael B. Jordan as twin bootleggers Smoke and Stack, then pits them against a pack of banjo-picking bloodsuckers helmed by a roguish Jack O’Connell. We’re expecting a big, bloody brouhaha and we get it. Underneath the playful carnage, however, the question at stake is: Why suffer the daily indignities of the Jim Crow-era South when you could outlive — and eat — your oppressors? “Sinners” is the most exciting film of 2025, both for what it is and for what it proves: that fresh blockbusters still exist and people are eager to gobble them up.
The stage’s iconic mean girl glides from 1890s Norway to 1950s England in this vibrant and venomous adaptation of Henrik Ibsen’s “Hedda Gabler.” Tessa Thompson stars as the restless housewife who needs to secure her milquetoast husband (Tom Bateman) a promotion and has a nasty habit of playing with guns. Keeping pace with her manipulative anti-heroine, writer-director Nia DaCosta (“Candyman”) makes a few calculated moves of her own, including gender-swapping Hedda’s ex into a curvaceous career woman (a haughty Nina Hoss) whose drab and geeky new girlfriend (Imogen Poots) irritates their hostess’ insecurities. As a capper, “Hedda” stages its brutal showdown at an all-night vodka-and-cocaine-fueled mansion shebang with a live jazz band, a lake for skinny-dippers and a hedge maze where former lovers are tempted to canoodle. The original play is over a century old, but every scene feels screamingly alive.
Joaquin Phoenix, left, and Pedro Pascal in “Eddington.”
(A24)
No film was more polarizing than Ari Aster’s COVID-set satire about a mask-hating sheriff (Joaquin Phoenix), a sanctimonious mayor (Pedro Pascal) and the high-tech cabal that benefits when these two modern cowboys come to blows. “Eddington” immortalizes the bleak humor and lingo of May 2020 (think murder hornets, Antifa and toilet paper hoarders). More stingingly, it captures the mental delirium of a small town — make that an entire planet — that hasn’t yet realized that there’s a second sickness seeping in through their smartphones. Everyone’s got a device in their hand pretty much all the time, aiming their cameras at each other like pistols in a Wild West standoff. Yet no character grasps what’s really going on. (I have a theory, but when I explain the larger conspiracy, I sound cuckoo too.) This is the movie that will explain pandemic brain to future generations. With distance, I’m pretty sure the haters will come around.
Leonardo DiCaprio in the movie “One Battle After Another.”
(Warner Bros. Pictures)
Every shot in Paul Thomas Anderson’s invigorating nail-biter is a banger: sentinels skateboarding over rooftops, caged kids playing catch with a crumpled foil blanket, Teyana Taylor’s militant Perfidia Beverly Hills blasting an automatic rifle while nine months pregnant. It’s the rare film that instantly imprints itself on the viewer. On my second watch, I was shocked by how much of “One Battle After Another” already felt tattooed on my brain, down to the shudder I got from Sean Penn’s loathsome Col. Lockjaw licking his comb to tidy his bangs. Riffing from Thomas Pynchon’s “Vineland,” the central drama follows flunky anarchist Bob (Leonardo DiCaprio) fumblingly attempting to rescue his daughter (Chase Infiniti) from Lockjaw’s clutches. But he’s not much help to her, and as the title implies, this is merely one skirmish in humanity’s sprawling struggle for freedom that has, and will, drag on forever. Anderson’s knack for ensemble work stretches back as far as “Boogie Nights,” yet here, even his unnamed characters have crucial roles to play. His world-building has never before felt this holistic and inspirational.
(“One Battle After Another” is now playing in theaters.)
5. ‘Kiss of the Spider Woman’
Jennifer Lopez and Tonatiuh in the movie “Kiss of the Spider Woman.”
(Roadside Attractions)
The backstory behind this stunner couldn’t be more baroque: Director Bill Condon (“Dreamgirls”) boldly revamped a Broadway musical of an Oscar-winning drama (itself taken from an experimental novel) about two inmates in an Argentine cell who mentally escape into the movies. Each incarnation has doubled down on the sensorial overload of what came before. If you know “Kiss of the Spider Woman’s” lineage, you’ll be impressed by how Condon ups the fantasy and stokes the revolutionary glamour with more Technicolor dance showcases for Jennifer Lopez’. (She’s doing her best Cyd Charisse, which turns out to be darned good.) If this is your first taste of the tale, give yourself over to the prickly but tender relationship between prisoners Luis and Valentin, played by feisty new talent Tonatiuh and a red-blooded Diego Luna. This is go-for-broke filmmaking with a wallop. As Luis says of his own version of “Kiss of the Spider Woman” playing in his head, “Call it kitsch, call it camp — I don’t care, I love it.”
Thai director Ratchapoom Boonbunchachoke’s Cannes Grand Prix winner opens with a haunted vacuum cleaner. From there, it gets even more surprising. Ghosts have infested a wealthy widow’s factory and are possessing appliances, seducing her son and cozying up to the prime minister for favors. Some of these people have died by accident, some by corporate neglect or worse. This droll spook show bleeds into romance and politics and, to our shock, becomes genuinely emotional. (It helps to remember that the military killed over 80 Bangkok protesters in 2010.) But why vacuum cleaners, you ask? The conceit is more than a sticky idea. Ordinary people can get crushed but the anger they leave behind lingers like fine dust.
(“A Useful Ghost” opens Jan. 16, 2026, in theaters.)
7. ‘The Roses’
Olivia Colman and Benedict Cumberbatch in the movie “The Roses.”
(Jaap Buitendijk / Searchlight Pictures)
Technically, “The Roses” is rooted in the 1980s hit novel and subsequent blockbuster “The War of the Roses,” which starred Michael Douglas and Kathleen Turner as an estranged couple who attack each other with lawyers, poison and chandeliers. In spirit, however, this redo is pure 1930s screwball comedy. Leads Benedict Cumberbatch and Olivia Colman are skilled verbal ninjas who hurl razor-sharp insults at each other’s egos, and although their characters’ divorce happens in California, director Jay Roach lets the actors keep their snippy British accents. The script by two-time Oscar nominee Tony McNamara (“The Favourite,” “Poor Things”) adds a cruel twist to the original: This time around, the marrieds truly do try their damnedest to love and support each other. And still, their walls come tumbling down.
Ye and Elon Musk in the documentary “In Whose Name?”
(AMSI Entertainment)
Nico Ballesteros was a high schooler with an iPhone when he entered Kanye West’s orbit in 2018. Over the next six years, the Orange County kid shot over 3,000 hours of footage as Ye (as the artist legally became known in 2021) jetted from Paris to Uganda, Calabasas to the White House, meeting everyone from Kenny G to Elon Musk on a quest to fulfill his creative and spiritual goals while incinerating his personal life and public reputation. Ye gave the documentarian full access with no editorial oversight, besides one moment in which he tells the camera that he wants the film to be about mental health. This riveting tragedy definitely is. We see an egomaniac whose fear of being beholden to anything motivates him to go off his meds, a billionaire provocateur who believes he can afford the consequences of his bigotry and, above all, a deeply flawed man who nukes his entire world to insist he’s right.
An image from the movie “Sirāt,” directed by Oliver Laxe.
(Festival de Cannes)
The techno soundtrack of Oliver Laxe’s desolate road thriller has rattled my house for months. Lately, I’ve spent just as much time contemplating the movie’s silence — those hushed stretches in which this caravan of bohemians speeds across the Moroccan desert looking like the only free people left on Earth. A father, Luis (“Pan’s Labyrinth’s” Sergi López), and his 12-year-old son team up with this band of tattooed burnouts in the hope of finding the boy’s runaway sister. Before long, Luis is just hoping to make it to safety, assuming anywhere safe still exists. Static on the radio warns that World War III might be underway. These outsiders click off the news and crank up the music. The paradox of “Sirāt” is that I’m dying to talk about it more but I’ve got to keep my mouth shut until people experience its dramatic twists for themselves.
(“Sirāt” returns to theaters on Feb. 6, 2026.)
10. ‘The Naked Gun’
Pamela Anderson and Liam Neeson in the movie “The Naked Gun.”
(Frank Masi / Paramount Pictures)
Liam Neeson needed this pummeling pun-fest. So did everyone else in 2025. Director Akiva Schaffer’s continuation of the “Police Squad!” franchise let the 73-year-old “Taken” star poke fun at his own bruising gravitas. Playing the son of Leslie Nielsen’s Lt. Frank Drebin, Neeson kept us in hysterics with a stupid-brilliant barrage of surreal wordplay and daffy slapstick. The casting was as odd — and perfect — as rumors that he and his co-star Pamela Anderson started dating on set. This fourth sequel didn’t try to outsmart the classic Zucker, Abrahams and Zucker template. It simply told the same old story: Cop meets babe, cop and babe canoodle with a magical snowman, cop drops his trousers on live TV, this time minus the blimp. Goodyear? No, the worst — which made Neeson our hero.
Since I’m all jazzed-up about great movies, here are 10 honorable mentions very much worth a watch.
“The Ballad of Wallis Island” A kooky millionaire strong-arms his favorite mid-aughts folk duo into playing a reunion show on his Welsh island. Sounds cutesy, but it’s the movie I recommended most — to everyone from my mailman to my mother. They all loved it. Join the fan club.
“Bunny” This East Village indie by debut director Ben Jacobson is a scummy gem. A gigolo’s birthday goes very wrong. But all the characters racing up and down the stairs of his uber-New York walk-up hovel are a howl.
“If I Had Legs I’d Kick You” Rose Byrne excels equally at comedy and drama. This audit of a breakdown smashes both together and cranks the tension up to eleven. Playing a high-stress working mom of an ill child, her try-hard heroine leans in so harrowingly far, she goes kamikaze.
“Lurker” Today’s celebrity might be viral on Instagram and unknown everywhere else. Alex Russell’s stomach-churning psychodrama stars Archie Madekwe as an L.A.-based singer on the brink of genuine fame and Théodore Pellerin as the hanger-on who endures — and exploits — the fledgling star’s power moves and hazy boundaries.
“Magic Farm” Filmmaker Amalia Ulman’s rascally farce stars Chloë Sevigny and Alex Wolff as clickbait journalists who fly to Argentina to shoot a viral video about a singer in a bunny costume and wind up looking twice as ridiculous.
Keke Palmer, left, and SZA in the movie “One of Them Days.”
(Anne Marie Fox / Sony Pictures)
“One of Them Days” Keke Palmer and SZA play broke Baldwin Hills roommates who have nine hours to make rent. I’d happily watch their stoner high jinks in real time.
“The Perfect Neighbor” Pieced together primarily from police body-camera footage, Geeta Gandbhir’s documentary unfurls in a Florida cul-de-sac where a community — adults, kids and cops — agrees that one woman is an entitled pill. The problem is she thinks they’re the problem. And she has a gun.
“Sisu: Road to Revenge” If Buster Keaton were alive, he’d hail this grisly, mostly mute Finnish action flick as a worthy successor to “The General.” It even boasts a thrilling sequence on a train, although director Jalmari Helander also brazenly poaches from “Die Hard” and “Mad Max: Fury Road.”
“Train Dreams” Trees fall in the woods and a 20th-century logger (Joel Edgerton) plays an unheard, unthanked but beautiful role in the building of America.
“Wake Up Dead Man: A Knives Out Mystery” Detective Benoit Blanc (Daniel Craig) teams up with a soul-searching priest (Josh O’Connor) to solve a perplexing church stabbing. From deft plot twists to provocative Catholic theology, Rian Johnson’s crowd-pleasing murder mystery is marvelously executed.
I can’t pretend that 2025 delivered a banner crop of theater productions. Many of the best shows on this list came from elsewhere. And a higher than usual percentage were seen at the Ahmanson Theatre, which had a remarkably good year — perhaps the best of any local theater.
It was so good, in fact, that I left off Michael Arden’s revival of “Parade.” My self-consciousness about the high number of touring productions persuaded me not to include “Shucked” at the Hollywood Pantages, which lightened the summer with its country bumpkin merriment. And I also omitted “Here There Are Blueberries” at the Wallis not because it wasn’t one of the best productions but because it was on my highlight reel of 2022, when this Tectonic Theatre Project play, conceived and directed by Moisés Kaufman, premiered at La Jolla Playhouse.
Our picks for this year’s best in arts and entertainment.
The highlight at the Mark Taper Forum this year was Jocelyn Bioh’s comedy “Jaja’s African Hair Braiding,” which was on its final touring stop. And one of the best musical nights I had all year was courtesy of a concert version of the National Yiddish Theatre Folksbiene’s revival of “Fiddler on the Roof” in Yiddish at the Soraya.
Of course, L.A. had the theater world’s attention this summer when Cynthia Erivo headlined the Hollywood Bowl’s revival of “Jesus Christ Superstar,” a production that seemed to take over Instagram with the clobbering force of the movie campaign for “Wicked.” But my own pick for L.A. production of the year would be Jessica Kubzansky’s revival of “The Night of the Iguana.”
Kubzansky demonstrated by example what’s required. She and Tennessee Williams were an excellent match. But it’s not just about pairing the right director with the right author. It’s also about fielding a well-synchronized artistic company.
Too many locally grown productions (from our larger theaters especially) seem to leave out one of these elements. To judge by the results, the producing process seems top-down rather than organic. A few times this year at the bigger theaters it seemed as if the principal casting was an afterthought.
Co-productions can be a smart way to pool resources while spreading the risk. But they aren’t always the answer, as proved by the lackluster revival of “Noises Off” at the Geffen Playhouse, a co-production with Chicago’s Steppenwolf Theatre Company,
The best new dramatic work I saw anywhere this year was Branden Jacobs-Jenkins’ “Purpose,” which deservedly won the Pulitzer Prize for drama and the Tony Award for best play. La Jolla Playhouse has announced that it will produce the West Coast premiere next year. I won’t hold my breath for an L.A. production. (Jackie Sibblies Drury’s “Fairview” is finally heading here next season, but I’m still waiting for countless AnnieBaker plays.) But at least Eboni Booth’s Pulitzer Prize-winning “Primary Trust” is coming to the Taper in May.
The writer who made the biggest first impression on me is a.k. payne, author of “Furlough’s Paradise,” which was the best new play I saw in town all year. Plays that I saw in New York that deserve major productions in L.A. include Bess Wohl‘s “Liberation,” Kimberly Belflower‘s “John Proctor Is the Villain,” Samuel D. Hunter’s “Little Bear Ridge Road,” and, if any company is daring enough, Jordan Tannahill’s “Prince Faggot.”
I’m still thinking about Toni Servillo’s full-throated performance in “Tre modi per non morire: Baudelaire, Dante, i Greci,” adapted from works by Giuseppe Montesano. This solo show, which I saw at Milan’s Piccolo Teatro, offered a passionate defense of how great literature can teach us to live again.
The theater can and should be a sanctuary from the technology that is encroaching on what distinguishes us as human beings — our capacity to contemplate ourselves and others feelingly.
2025 definitely had its high points. But there seems to be a weakening of institutional resolve in the face of unrelenting economic, political and cultural pressures. Let’s pray for a renewal of determination to create the theater — and society — we deserve.
Herewith, in no particular order, are my Los Angeles theater highlights of 2025.
Kasey Mahaffy and CJ Eldred in “A Man of No Importance” at A Noise Within.
(Photo by Craig Schwartz)
“A Man of No Importance,” A Noise Within. This revival of a lesser known musical by Stephen Flaherty, Lynn Ahrens and Terrence McNally (the team behind “Ragtime”) was one of the unexpected treasures of 2025. A tale of a closeted Dublin bus driver with a passion for Oscar Wilde and a yen for amateur theatricals, the show featured a star performance from Kasey Mahaffy that was sublime in both its modesty and flamboyance. Julia Rodriguez-Elliott’s production gracefully depicted a world of ordinary folks looking at the aesthetic stars from their humdrum daily realities.
Claudia Logan, from left, Bisserat Tseggai, and Mia Ellis in “Jaja’s African Hair Braiding” at the Mark Taper Forum.
(Javier Vasquez / Center Theatre Group)
“Jaja’s African Hair Braiding,” Mark Taper Forum. Jocelyn Bioh’s high-spirited ensemble comedy, vibrantly directed by Whitney White, took us inside the lives of the African immigrant women who work at a Harlem braiding salon. While working their fingers to the bone creating the most flamboyant hair designs, these characters reveal the great distances they’ve traveled, the courage that’s been required of them and the vulnerabilities they face in their increasingly hostile promised land.
Cynthia Erivo and Adam Lambert in “Jesus Christ Superstar” at the Hollywood Bowl.
(Farah Sosa)
“Jesus Christ Superstar,” Hollywood Bowl. Cynthia Erivo delivered a divinely inspired performance in this revival of Andrew Lloyd Webber and Tim Rice’s 1971 musical, directed and choreographed with concert-like brio by Sergio Trujillo. Adam Lambert was the electric Judas to Erivo’s nuclear Jesus, and the energy they emitted was more than enough to power all of social media for a few days in August. This show didn’t just go viral — it went global pandemic.
Julanne Chidi Hill, from left, Dennis Dun, Jully Lee and Riley Shanahan in “The Night of the Iguana” at Boston Court Pasadena.
(Brian Hashimoto)
“The Night of the Iguana,”Boston Court Pasadena. Artistic director Jessica Kubzansky cut to the spiritual core of one of Tennessee Williams’ lesser major plays and made it seem on par with his masterpieces, “The Glass Menagerie” and “A Streetcar Named Desire.” Jully Lee was brilliant as Hannah, the itinerant painter who turns up with her 97-year-old poet father at a Mexican seaside inn that is like a refuge for the world’s strays. Julanne Chidi Hill, who played the lusty widow hotel proprietor, Maxine, and Riley Shanahan, who played Lawrence Shannon, the disgraced reverend on the lam from his misdeeds, helped bring the play’s lonely battle for redemption to blistering life.
DeWanda Wise, left, and Kacie Rogers in “Furlough’s Paradise” at the Geffen Playhouse.
(Jeff Lorch)
“Furlough’s Paradise,” Geffen Playhouse. This shape-shifting two-character drama by a.k. payne explores the politically loaded subject of identity through the relationship of two queer Black cousins, who grew up together but whose lives have diverged. Sade (DeWanda Wise) is on a three-day furlough from prison; Mina (Kacie Rogers), adrift in California, has returned home to connect with her roots. Together, they challenge each other’s understanding of the past and sense of possibility for the future. The drama, directed by Tinashe Kajese-Bolden and choreographed by Dell Howlett, routinely escaped the confined realism of the dramatic situation to find freedom in a realm of boundless lyricism.
Wesley Guimarães, left, and Jack Lancaster and in “Bacon” at Rogue Machine.
(Jeff Lorch)
“Bacon,”Rogue Machine Theatre at the Matrix’s Henry Murray Stage. This fierce two-hander by British playwright Sophie Swithinbank, about an abusive relationship between two teenage boys awakening to their sexuality, was all the more combustible for being performed in such an inescapable intimate space. Wesley Guimarães and Jack Lancaster brought out the contrasting natures of these characters who are drawn to each in ways neither can fully work out. The production, directed by Michael Matthews, incisively balanced the traumatic push and erotic pull.
Jennifer Babiak and Steven Skybell in “Fiddler on the Roof.”
(Luis Luque / Luque Photography)
“Fiddler on the Roof,” The Soraya. This fluidly staged concert version of the National Yiddish Theatre Folksbiene’s acclaimed revival in Yiddish of this classic American musical brought a sharp-edged authenticity to the story of Tevye the milkman and his marriageable daughters navigating a treacherous world of pogroms and fraying tradition. Steven Skybell, magnificent in the role of the besieged patriarch, led a superb cast that brought a new understanding to an old chestnut through the force of Yiddish language and culture. The production, directed by Oscar- and Tony-winning actor Joel Grey, spoke as much to our own political and social turmoil as to that of the characters without ever having to press the point.
Rachel Simone Webb and the company of the North American tour of “& Juliet.”
(Matthew Murphy)
“& Juliet,”Ahmanson Theatre. This jukebox musical imagines with unstinting originality a scenario in which the doomed heroine of William Shakespeare’s “Romeo and Juliet” doesn’t die at the end of the play. Granted a theatrical second act, Juliet makes the rollicking most of it. The same could be said of this kinetically entertaining touring production. Tragedy was transformed not just into comedy but into a Max Martin dance party, replete with hits from the blockbuster Swedish producer that were made famous by such pop titans as Katy Perry, Britney Spears and the Backstreet Boys.
Pragun Bhardwaj, from left, Taha Mandviwala and the national touring company of “Life of Pi.”
(Evan Zimmerman)
“Life of Pi,” Ahmanson Theatre. The most visually entrancing production of the year was also one of the most dramatically captivating. This adventure tale of a boy trying to survive a shipwreck with the help of his imagination and a few of the surviving animals of his family’s zoo translated into purely theatrical terms the fable-like enchantment of Yann Martel’s 2002 Booker Prize-winning novel. Lolita Chakrabarti’s smart adaptation rode the magic carpet of Max Webster’s staging, which had the most enchanting menagerie of puppets since “The Lion King.”
Cher Alvarez in “Paranormal Activity.”
(Kyle Flubacker)
“Paranormal Activity,” Ahmanson Theatre. This impeccably staged horror play by Levi Holloway succeeded in injecting maximum fear without theatergoers having to hate themselves in the morning. The characters, rendered with contemporary exactness by a first-rate cast, were so recognizable that they made the mysterious events unfolding around them terrifyingly plausible. The London house, ingeniously laid out by scenic designer Fly Davis, practically stole the show.
This article contains spoilers from Season 5, Vol. 2, of “Stranger Things.”
What could be more gulp-inducing than trying to defeat a nightmarish vine-covered villain and wipe out an eerie and horror-filled alternate dimension? Maybe writing a satisfying conclusion to a mega-popular TV show built on that idea.
Ross and Matt Duffer, the sibling masterminds behind Netflix’s “Stranger Things,” are closer to finding out if they’ve achieved that in the eyes of the show’s fans. On this morning in early December, the duo are in their own alternate dimension limbo with the show’s final season release — Vol. 1 is out and they’re bracing for impact with Vol. 2.
“The day that [Vol. 1] was released, I paced around all day,” Matt says. “I did absolutely nothing, just waiting for reactions to come in and reviews to come in because you really never know how people are going to react. There’s pros and cons to the show growing in size in the way it did — people just take it apart to an insane degree. It’s scary, always scary. You never really get used to it.”
But the self-doubt keeps them sharp, he says. “It forces you to not get lazy.”
“It’s a balance between feeling very confident, then it swings to being very insecure about it — and it’s hard to keep sight,” Ross adds. “You watch these episodes dozens and dozens of times over and over again. And the strange thing about this show is that a very small group of people had seen the episodes, a really small circle, then suddenly you’re just blasting it out to millions of people all at the same time.”
The pair are sitting on a couch in the office they share — “E.T.,” “Alien” and “Batman Returns” posters adorn the walls — at their facilities, Upside Down Productions, in Los Angeles. While they were able to revel in fan reaction for a few days after the release of Vol. 1, they’re back in work mode. At this point, they still have to finalize sound and color, as well as some visual effects, on the series finale.
“Very boring visual effects,” Matt quips. “If I have to look at one more shot of spores and fog, I’m going to lose my mind.”
Nancy Wheeler (Natalia Dyer), Jonathan Byers (Charlie Heaton), Steve Harrington (Joe Keery) and Dustin Henderson (Gaten Matarazzo) in Season 5 of “Stranger Things.”
(Netflix)
For now, the drip-drop release around the year-end holidays continues, with Vol. 2 (Episodes 5 through 7) now streaming. The episodes contain some of the season’s bigger emotional beats, including one of TV’s most amicable breakups between teenagers, a mended friendship and a character finally living his true self openly. The Duffers discussed that and more in this edited conversation.
Let’s start with those final 10 minutes of Episode 7. Will [Noah Schnapp] shares a part of himself that he’s kept secret for a long time. He realizes that if he wants to be successful in defeating Vecna, he can’t feel afraid about this part of myself. How did you decide Will’s coming out would be revealed?
Matt: It’s something that we’ve been planning to do for a really long time. Initially, it was planned for Season 4, and we just felt it was unearned by the end of it. We wrote that scene with him in the back of the van and him talking to Jonathan [Charlie Heaton]. But I like the idea of Will slowly building to this moment. He has a breakthrough in Episode 4 in a major way, but he has this one final step to take in order to really unlock his full potential. Something we really wanted to do with the show is tie his emotional growth with these powers that he’s developed.
Ross: Putting it at the penultimate [episode] ultimately made sense because what we’re trying to do with the second volume is get our characters in a place where they all felt confident in themselves. Will being one of the major character arcs that carries through the season, but also with Dustin [Gaten Matarazzo] and Steve [Joe Keery] and Nancy [Natalia Dyer] and Jonathan — we wanted to get people, before they go into this final battle, having dealt with their internal fears and doubts.
Matt: Because that’s what Vecna weaponizes against you. If you don’t have that self-hatred or self-doubt or those insecurities, then he can’t hurt you. When Will purges himself of that, he becomes unstoppable — or that’s the hope.
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1.Noah Schnapp as Will Byers, the show’s central character.2.With his mother, Joyce (Winona Ryder). In Season 5, Vol. 2, Will comes out to her and his friends. “It’s something that we’ve been planning to do for a really long time,” says creator Matt Duffer.(Netflix)
What did you want that moment to be? What didn’t you want it to be?
Ross: We were nervous about it because you want to get it right, particularly working with Noah, who had recently come out himself. When he read it and we got his blessing, we felt really, really good about it. For us, it clicked writing it when we started talking about, “What are Will’s actual fears here in the future?” When the show really works for us is when we can combine both our mythology and the supernatural with the emotional. In this case, it’s going: Vecna is taking these fears and weaponizing them against Will, so Will actually talking to the group about these fears, as opposed to keeping them to himself — that’s when the scene really clicked.
The original plan was for him to come out to Joyce [Winona Ryder], and we started writing it and it felt really wrong because if he’s really going to be confronting these fears, he has to open up to to his friends as well. Once we did that, and we put the group in there, and we had him talk about what he saw in his future, that’s when the scene felt, as a coming-out scene, like something very unique to this show.
Matt: It’s the scene we spent the longest on this season because we were so anxious about it and getting it right. It was the most important scene of the season. I can’t emphasize enough how much the actors influence the characters, and their journeys as people really feed into what we’re writing and how we write those characters. You’re trying to channel Noah and what he went through and his growth, which we’ve watched as a person, as he’s found himself. Most of what is in the show is the first take, the first close-up that we did of Noah. It was incredible to watch because it’s one of those moments where Noah was not acting. Those words were real that he was saying. It was very emotional. It felt so real to Noah, so truthful to him. Hopefully the scene feels like that to other people because a lot of kids are watching. You feel a certain responsibility, especially with scenes like that. You can’t be careless about it.
Shipping is a hallmark in every fandom. There’s a moment where Will mentions a crush he’s harbored. He doesn’t directly state it’s Mike, but Mike knows. The viewer knows. How would you describe their dynamic?
Ross: There is a lot of shipping that’s going on with this show. In terms of all the relationships — this goes with the Will storyline, it goes with Jonathan and Nancy — for us and the writers, what’s interesting is not who ends up with who. What’s interesting to us is, how are our characters growing as people? And most of the time, the answer to that is them finding strength within themselves as opposed to finding strength with someone else. When we were talking about Will, those are the conversations that we have. How do we get Will in a place that he feels confident and strong? And that, ultimately, is him confronting these fears and exposing himself to everyone, including Mike.
Matt: When we were growing up, shipping was not a thing. This is a new thing and it gets intense. Part of me likes it because it shows how passionate people are for the show. I don’t mind people interpreting things however they want. Obviously, Ross and I have what we intended. Ross touched on it thematically — in [Episode] 4, when Will finds his power, what we were intending was not that his love for Mike gives him these powers, but his love for himself and tapping back into how he felt when he was younger — that was the key to unlocking his full potential.
Ross: It’s more of an important message to put out to younger viewers. When I’m thinking about my younger self and our struggle growing up, to put out a message that’s “It’ll all be right if this secret crush you have works out” versus “You don’t need that.” Even if it disappoints some people, it’s the more important message to put out into the world.
Matt: Not one crush of mine worked out. It hurts you, though, right? If you feel feelings and it’s unrequited, it feels like an attack on you or makes you feel unwanted. So much of the show is two things: just our love for the supernatural in the movies that we grew up on, and the other part of it is dealing with all the feelings that we had growing up. The best thing for me in the world is when younger people come up to us, the very few that recognize us, and tell us how it helped help them through a difficult time in their lives. Even Robin’s speech to Will, giving him the confidence to come out, that makes it all worth it.
“To write them being back together and friends again was just such a relief,” says Ross Duffer of Dustin, left, and Steve.
(Netflix)
I want to move on to Dustin and Steve. The strain on their relationship comes to a head in these episodes, but also reaches a reconciliation. That moment between them on the collapsing stairwell —
Matt: It’s a very short moment, but incredibly emotional. We were really moved by Gaten and Joe’s performance. It wasn’t hard for them to get into that spot. They’re very close, they have a very sweet friendship that’s not entirely dissimilar from their friendship on the show. The one frustrating thing about the show being split in the way it is, is we didn’t put out a season of the show in Volume 1 — that’s half of a show. I’m excited for people to see Volume 2, mostly for the Steve-Dustin resolution.
Ross: It was hard even writing it, keeping them apart. We felt it was right, emotionally, but to write them being back together and friends again was just such a relief because we’ve missed them, and hopefully the audience has too.
And I love that Steve gets to have his a-ha moment where he comes up with what may be the plan that ends all this.
Ross: It’s funny, we’ve joked about this; he’s very convenient for us as writers because he’s always confused. He doesn’t know what’s going on. Dustin dings him for that in Episode 5, and it was so satisfying to have Steve come up with the final plan, or the linchpin for the final plan. That was such a thrill to write to finally give Steve a moment because the brainstorming almost always goes to Dustin.
Nancy and Jonathan, at one point, are bracing for imminent death and find themselves having this touching and tender moment, sharing confessions and hard truths. What was the lay of conversation for what you wanted from that moment — there’s the acknowledgment of their trauma bond and a slightly romantic unproposal?
Matt: It’s not dissimilar, in some ways, to the Mike-Will stuff. These are people who do love each other very much; it’s just a question of, “What does that mean? What does the future look like for them?” Whenever we talked about Jonathan-Nancy — there’s got to be this feeling that they feel like they must be together because of what they’ve been through, and how could you ever connect with somebody else who hadn’t been through the same thing? But are they right, in the long run, for each other? We wanted to express that as best as we can.
Ross: It was a challenging idea. We’ve been building to it, but to get it across in five-ish minutes, it’s a complicated thing. It’s not just a soap opera where it’s shipping and who’s going to end up with who. I’ve been through experiences similar to this, when you’re with someone for a very long time, you grow so close and you go through so many things together, and it reaches a point where you go, “Well, how could someone else understand?” But at the same time, is that suffocating to your own self-growth? So when we were talking about Nancy and Jonathan, and where do they go from here, it felt like for Nancy to really grow, it’s not about Steve, it’s not about Jonathan, it’s about giving herself the space.
Matt:And for Jonathan. They both felt the same way, they just weren’t expressing it. Especially when you’re young, you have trouble understanding or expressing those feelings. We wanted to put them in a life-or-death situation where it’s their last opportunity to confess. The reference for that scene was “Almost Famous,” when the plane’s about to crash and everybody, in the moment of near-death, tells everybody everything. And then the plane doesn’t crash and it’s awkward. This is the opposite.
Matt, left, and Ross Duffer are closer to releasing the “Stranger Things” series finale. Is it a happy ending? “Even in victory, it’s not confetti and dance parties,” Ross says.
(Jason Armond / Los Angeles Times)
To return to this idea of the characters wrestling with what life looks like after this is over, if it’s ever over — is a happy or triumphant ending possible? Do you even think of it in those terms?
Matt: It’s weird because we didn’t realize until we had finished writing it, how much was a reflection on the show itself. Everybody had a tricky year emotionally; it was a real roller-coaster in terms of dealing with the fact that something we had been putting everything into for 10 years was coming to an end. Ultimately, the show is more about childhood, coming of age and leaving that behind for a new part of your life. It’s not really a question of a happy ending versus a not-happy ending. It’s just a question of capturing what it feels like to move on. It’s a bittersweet thing, but I think it’s something that everybody goes through.
Ross: Even in victory, it’s not confetti and dance parties. It’s a little more complicated than that. I remember “Lord of the Rings,” reading it and watching the films as a kid — there’s that moment when they’re just back in the Shire, and there’s bit of like, “How can you understand? And how do you move on from this?” I remember at the time, when I was younger, feeling a bit of disappointment. I was like, “Can’t they just come back and everyone just celebrate and there’s a party and then we fade out?” But watching it older now, there’s something so much more resonant about it. That’s why we talk so much over the course of this season about “Even if we are able to defeat Vecna, what does that look like for all of us?” Because this Vecna and the evil in the Upside Down brought all these people together.
Matt: In terms of the parallels to the show ending, that’s really a complicated and confusing mix of emotions. Everybody’s sad to move on, but then there’s that sense that you have to move on. We try to capture that feeling.
I need you to tell me what the workflow is like on a show like this. It’s lore, science and nerd-heavy. What are the checks and balances of making sure you’re not messing things up?
Matt: The challenge, especially as the lore and mythology has gotten too complicated, is to ensure that it’s not weighing down the show and that there’s enough room for the characters. That is more important than anything. What we’ve been trying to do as much as possible with this season, because there is so much mythology, is tie it into characters and their growth.
Ross: For instance, the Jonathan-Nancy scene — the melting lab was not an idea we had and then thought, “Oh, we could put Jonathan and Nancy in the situation.” We know we want this conversation with Jonathan and Nancy. How do we get there? Then going, “Oh, what if the dark matter makes the lab unstable?” Most of the time, you’re starting character first, and then we’re adjusting the mythology in order to make those character moments work.
Matt: But also, a melting lab is cool! Everybody was super enthusiastic about that — Netflix, our production designer.
Ross: Other dimensions, everyone was fine with the wormholes. But when we suddenly go, “The lab is going to melt,” everyone was like, “Excuse me?” No one knew how to do it.
Matt: We had to fight for that melting lab, from a production and cost standpoint.
I thought we were going to have a “Titanic” situation.
Ross: Oh, “Titanic” was a reference. But we wanted them both on the table.
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1.Max Mayfield (Sadie Sink), left, and Holly Wheeler (Nell Fisher).2.Jamie Campbell Bower as Vecna.(Netflix)
There’s a massive culture of forecasting and dissecting — it can be overwhelming to me as a viewer because I feel like I’m not watching closely enough. But I also love seeing how people interpret things.
Ross: Especially with the superfans, the tiniest of detail is picked up on. I think it’s fun for them because they’re rewatching this over and over again, so every little minute thing is seen as something significant even when that wasn’t our intention — not that we don’t plant things for later and do Easter eggs, but 99.9% of the writers’ room is just talking about these characters in the story they’re on. That is hopefully how you’re going to be watching the show because it can get overwhelming when you see this stuff online. But at the end of the day, we’re having people engage with a long-form story, so it makes us generally happy.
Matt: But you hit on something important, which is everybody experiences the show very differently. Sometimes I go, “What show are you watching?” Whatever show they’re watching is a completely different show than the show we thought we wrote. Then sometimes, some are on exactly our wavelength. And you see this with debates over the season. Season 3 is either the best season ever or the worst season ever. This is why you can’t write to fans, because which fan are you writing to? It would be impossible. Ross and I just try to write what we think is cool and what our writers think is cool.
There are so many theories out there about how the show is ending. Has there been one where the person got it or close to it?
Ross: I remember Season 4 someone early, very early, before we’d even released it, had figured out the Henry-Vecna-One thing, which was pretty impressive. This season, though, I have not seen anyone get the ending correct, which is, hopefully, a good thing.
Matt: I think it’s good. We’ll find out. I like that the ending is not obvious to people.
My understanding is the final scene of the series is one you’ve had in mind for about seven or so years. In the end, did you reach it the way you thought you would?
Matt: Yes. The show changed a lot in the course of seven years, so aspects of it certainly changed. But I think the fundamental state, more or less, the scene is what we always thought it was going to be.
Ross: I would say there was a key idea that we came up with, breaking [Season] 5, that wasn’t in there seven years ago. There was one element that we changed, but generally it is what we always hoped it would be. After the finale is out, we’ll be happy to tell you.
Matt: It didn’t change the scene, it just added something that I think was really important.
You spoke earlier about the circle of people that you share episodes with. How do you know you’re on the right path?
Ross: It’s such a small group. It really comes down to just our group of writers. What I love about our writers’ room is, even with Matt and I, people are very happy to tell us that an idea is not working. It’s usually everyone building off of each other, and then someone synthesizes those ideas, pitches it out to the room, and you feel this collective relief and excitement within that room. And when that happens, we go, “That’s it. That’s the idea.”
Matt: This is how we’ve always worked, once the draft is written, Ross and I will do multiple passes to the point where we’re really happy and confident. We don’t like turning in anything even remotely rough to Netflix. But the final episode, that was actually weird. We didn’t get any notes from Netflix or the producers. It is that first draft that we turned in. We did multiple drafts of it, but once we turned it in, that was it.
Were you on time with that draft?
Matt: We’re never on time, as you can tell with the gaps between seasons. Ross and I are not the fast. We were actually writing it in the midst of shooting, which was not a great idea. But Ross and I do the best work when we have a gun to our heads.
Ross: There’s not a single finale of the show that wasn’t written in the midst of production, but we like it because it allows us to get a sense of what the season is, what’s working, how the actors are performing, and we can really write to that. If you look at our season finales, generally, they’re some of our better episodes, part of it because the story is culminating, but also because we’ve learned over the course of the season what this season really is, what is really clicking. Then you can lean into that.
Matt: The only weird thing to have is because we were behind, and this has never happened before, is the Holly sequences that are in Henry’s mind, that’s in summer, so we couldn’t wait to shoot those. We were shooting any scene in the woods with Holly before the script was done. That was odd because we were handing actors scripts and scenes when they hadn’t even finished the episode. But it worked out quite well.
But now, I don’t know if it’s because of us, but Netflix won’t start shooting a season of anything until all the scripts are written. I do think they’re missing out on something because … like the sense of discovery that it allows. That’s the nerve-racking thing to me about doing a movie next, is we won’t have that ability to have it evolve.
What was the reaction at the table read for the series finale that stood out to you?
Matt: As nervous as we are of how the audience is going to react, it will never match the nerves we had in terms of how the actors were going to react to it. They’ve been in it with us since the beginning and they’re so invested in these characters. I think everybody was crying. Noah started crying first, then it just spread from there.
How do you feel you’ve changed since starting the show?
Matt: It’s hard to know. You have to try to remember back to how we were 10 years ago. We were really green. We had only directed one movie before. And we never directed television before. We’ve become, hopefully, better leaders and more confident and better at communicating. Ross and I, because we’re twins, we were really good at communicating with each other, but not with other people, and I think we’ve gotten a lot better at working with a large group of people, and hopefully we’ve evolved as as filmmakers.
Ross: There was a lot of fear making that first season. It was almost out of panic and fear both, if we get this wrong — our first movie was a failure — if we mess up, we’ll never be able to tell a story again. And the lack of experience, especially in terms of production. Production was scary because our production on the movie was such a challenge and it was a traumatic experience. Now, we know so much more. We keep making it hard for ourselves because we keep raising the bar in terms of the scale of the production [and] the number of people we’re hiring. But at this point, we can walk into a set, we’re much more flexible now if actors are coming in with ideas that are different from what we had planned, there’s a lot more ability to explore.
Caleb McLaughlin, left, Finn Wolfhard, Millie Bobby Brown and Gaten Matarazzo when they were much younger in “Stranger Things.”
(Netflix)
To expand on the learning curve, there was a recent report that said Millie Bobby Brown had filed a complaint of bullying and harassment against David Harbour. As first-time showrunners, how was it helming a show with young actors and figuring out how to balance the responsibility of making sure they feel safe and cared for on set?
Matt: Ross and I just love working with kids, and it was fun this season to go back to that, in terms of bringing in a new generation of kids. Mostly what we try to do is treat them respectfully and listen to them and listen to their ideas. I think you just get so much better work out of them that way. We’ve become very close because we got to know them when they were really young. It feels less parental and more like an older brother situation, and we try to make it very relaxed so they’re not nervous around us, and they certainly are not. I think what’s been challenging, and mostly challenging for the kids, who are no longer kids anymore, is when the show became bigger and [dealing with] social media. I think if something’s been damaging, it’s social media. I saw it happening with Jake [Connelly], who plays Derek this year.
Ross: And Nell [Fisher, who plays Holly], as well. That is something you feel more helpless about. But what has been beneficial for them, for Jake and Nell, [is] the kids that have been through it can help them through this more. Millie’s been through it. Finn’s been through it.
Matt: That’s the thing — yes, they have us, but they also have each other to get through this. I always think that that’s the key in terms of how they all turned out as grounded as they are. We were with all of them on this press tour, and I’m constantly impressed by how level-headed and grounded they are, and how ego-less they are; that they’re not broken by what they’ve been through. It’s been great with Jake to see it completely turn around. But that doesn’t excuse what people were doing before. It’s disgusting. I wish they had gone through this without social media.
A big talking point in Hollywood right now has been the bidding war for Warner Bros. Discovery. You have forged relationships with both Paramount and Netflix, the companies vying for it. How are you feeling about this moment and where things seem to be headed?
Matt: It’s just so hard to know what things are going to be like. It’s hard to say anything right now. Ross and I have been pretty open about wanting to make sure that the theatrical experience is preserved. For as long as stories have been told, it’s often in front of a group. There’s something about the communal experience and I just don’t want people being isolated. But as long as things are getting in theaters, I think it’s going to be OK. I’m trying to be optimistic about it.
Ross: I think the two fears are, with whatever happens, is you want to try to protect theatrical, which is in not the best state right now. And if you keep shrinking these windows, it just continues to de-incentivize people to go to the theater. That is not something we want to see. It’s a reason why we’re making a movie for theaters next; we believe in it and want to fight for it. The other is you need competition for artists because that’s the whole reason “Stranger Things” exists in the first place. If it’s too much consolidation, then shows like this are just going to become increasingly extinct.
Was it an easy sell, getting Netflix on board with releasing the series finale in theaters?
Matt: Yeah, actually. This is where the internet can frustrate me because something starts as a rumor and then goes around, then it’s fact. We pitched the idea to Netflix marketing — it was mine and Ross’ idea, then [Chief Content Officer Bela Bajaria] called us — it was only about five days [later] and [she] said, “Yeah, let’s do it.” We’re really grateful for them for supporting us. I cannot wait to go sneak into some theaters and watch it.
As a child, Clara Spars, who grew up in Charles M. Schulz’s adoptive hometown of Santa Rosa, assumed that every city had life-size “Peanuts” statues dotting its streets.
After all, Spars saw the sculptures everywhere she went — in the Santa Rosa Plaza, at Montgomery Village, outside downtown’s Empire Cleaners. When she and her family inevitably left town and didn’t stumble upon Charlie Brown and his motley crew, she was perplexed.
Whatever void she felt then is long gone, since the beagle has become a pop culture darling, adorning all manner of merchandise — from pimple patches to luxury handbags. Spars herself is the proud owner of a Baggu x Peanuts earbuds case and is regularly gifted Snoopy apparel and accessories.
“It’s so funny to see him everywhere because I’m like, ‘Oh, finally!’” Spars said.
The spike in Snoopy products has been especially pronounced this year with the 75th anniversary of “Peanuts,” a.k.a. Snoopy’s 75th birthday. But the grip Snoopy currently has on pop culture and the retail industry runs deeper than anniversary buzz. According to Sony, which last week acquired majority ownership of the “Peanuts” franchise, the IP is worth half a billion dollars.
To be clear, Snoopy has always been popular. Despite his owner being the “Peanuts” strip’s main character and the namesake for most of the franchise’s adaptations, Snoopy was inarguably its breakout star. He was the winner of a 2001 New York Times poll about readers’ favorite “Peanuts” characters, with 35% of the vote.
This year, the Charles M. Schulz Museum celebrated the 75th anniversary of the “Peanuts” comic strip’s debut.
(Brennan Spark / Charles M. Schulz Museum)
But the veritable Snoopymania possessing today’s consumers really exploded with the social media boom of the early 2010s, said Melissa Menta, senior vice president of global brand and communications for Peanuts Worldwide.
That’s also when the company saw the first signs of uncharacteristically high brand engagement, Menta said. She largely attributed the success of “Peanuts” on social media to the comic strip’s suitability to visual platforms like Instagram.
“No one reads the comic strips in newspapers anymore,” Menta said, “but if you think about it, a four-panel comic strip, it’s actually an Instagram carousel.”
Then, in 2023, Peanuts Worldwide launched the campaign that made Snoopy truly viral.
That year, the brand partnered with the American Red Cross to create a graphic tee as a gift for blood donors. The shirt, which featured Snoopy’s alter ego Joe Cool and the message “Be Cool. Give Blood,” unexpectedly became internet-famous. In the first week of the collaboration, the Red Cross saw a 40% increase in donation appointments, with 75% of donors under the age of 34.
“People went crazy over it,” Menta said, and journalists started asking her, “Why?”
Her answer? “Snoopy is cute and cool. He’s everything you want to be.”
“Charles Schulz said the only goal he had in all that he created was to make people laugh, and I think he’s still doing that 75 years later,” Schulz Museum director Gina Huntsinger said.
(Brennan Spark / Charles M. Schulz Museum)
The Red Cross collaboration was so popular that Peanuts Worldwide brought it back this year, releasing four new shirt designs. Again, the Snoopy fandom — plus some Woodstock enthusiasts — responded, with 250,000 blood donation appointments made nationwide in the month after the collection’s launch.
In addition to the Red Cross partnership, Peanuts Worldwide this year has rolled out collaborations with all kinds of retailers, from luxury brands like Coach and Kith to mass-market powerhouses like Krispy Kreme and Starbucks. Menta said licensed product volume is greater than ever, estimating that the brand currently has more than 1,200 licensees in “almost every territory around the world,” which is approximately four times the number it had 40 years ago.
Then again, at that time, Schulz enjoyed and regularly executed veto power when it came to product proposals, and licensing rules were laid out in what former Times staff writer Carla Lazzareschi called the “Bible.”
“The five-pound, 12-inch-by-18-inch binder given every new licensee establishes accepted poses for each character and painstakingly details their personalities,” Lazzareschi wrote in a 1987 Times story. “Snoopy, for example, is said to be an ‘extrovert beagle with a Walter Mitty complex.’ The guidelines cover even such matters as Snoopy’s grip on a tennis racquet.”
Although licensing has expanded greatly since then, Menta said she and her retail development associates “try hard not to just slap a character onto a T-shirt.” Their goal is to honor Schulz’s storytelling, she added, and with 18,000 “Peanuts” strips in the archive, licensees have plenty of material to pull from.
Rick Vargas, the senior vice president of merchandising and marketing at specialty retailer BoxLunch, said his team regularly returns to the Schulz archives to mine material that could resonate with customers.
“As long as you have a fresh look at what that IP has to offer, there’s always something to find. There’s always a new product to build,” Vargas said.
Indeed, this has been one of BoxLunch’s strongest years in terms of sales of “Peanuts” products, and Snoopy merchandise specifically, the executive said.
BaubleBar co-founder Daniella Yacobovsky said the brand’s “Peanuts” collaboration was one of its most beloved yet.
(BaubleBar)
Daniella Yacobovsky, co-founder of the celebrity-favorite accessory retailer BaubleBar, reported similar high sales for the brand’s recent “Peanuts” collection.
“Especially for people who are consistent BaubleBar fans, every time we introduce new character IP, there is this huge excitement from that fandom that we are bringing their favorite characters to life,” Yacobovsky said.
The bestselling item in the collection, the Peanuts Friends Forever Charm Bracelet, sold out in one day. Plus, customers have reached out with new ideas for products linked to specific “Peanuts” storylines.
More recently, Peanuts Worldwide has focused on marketing to younger costumers in response to unprecedented brand engagement from Gen Z. In November, it launched a collaboration with Starface, whose cult-favorite pimple patches are a staple for teens and young adults. The Snoopy stickers have already sold out on Ulta.com, Starface founder Julie Schott said in an emailed statement, adding that the brand is fielding requests for restocks.
“We know it’s a certified hit when resale on Depop and EBay starts to spike,” Schott said.
The same thing happened in 2023, when a CVS plush of Snoopy in a puffer jacket (possibly the dog’s most internet-famous iteration to date) sold out in-store and started cropping up on EBay — for more than triple the original price.
The culprits were Gen-Zers fawning over how cute cozy Snoopy was, often on social media.
“People who love Snoopy adore Snoopy, whether you grew up with ‘Peanuts’ or connect with Snoopy as a meme and cultural icon today,” said Starface founder Julie Schott.
(Starface World Inc.)
Hannah Guy Casey, senior director of brand and marketing at Peanuts Worldwide, said in 2024, the official Snoopy TikTok account gained 1.1 million followers, and attracted 85.4 million video views and 17.6 million engagements. This year, the account has gained another 1.2 million followers, and racked up 106.5 million video views and 23.2 million engagements.
Guy Casey noted that TikTok is where the brand experiences much of its engagement among Gen Z fans.
Indeed, the platform is a hot spot for fan-created Snoopy content, from memes featuring the puffer jacket to compilations of his most relatable moments. Several Snoopy fan accounts, including one dedicated to a music-loving Snoopy plushie, boast well over half a million followers.
Caryn Iwakiri, a speech and language pathologist at Sunnyvale’s Lakewood Tech EQ Elementary School whose classroom is Snoopy-themed, recently took an impromptu trip to the Charles M. Schulz Museum in Santa Rosa after seeing its welcome center decked out with Snoopy decor on TikTok. Once she arrived, she realized the museum was celebrating the “Peanuts” 75th anniversary.
Last year, the Schulz Museum saw its highest-ever attendance, driven in large part by its increased visibility on social media.
(Brennan Spark / Charles M. Schulz Museum)
It’s a familiar story for Schulz Museum director Gina Huntsinger.
“Last December, we were packed, and I was at the front talking to people, and I just randomly asked this group, ‘Why are you here?’”
It turned out that the friends had traveled from Washington, D.C., and Las Vegas to meet in Santa Rosa and visit the museum after seeing it on TikTok.
According to Stephanie King, marketing director at the Schulz Museum, the establishment is experiencing its highest-ever admissions since opening in 2002. In the 2024–2025 season, the museum increased its attendance by nearly 45% from the previous year.
Huntsinger said she’s enjoyed watching young visitors experience the museum in new ways.
In the museum’s education room, where visitors typically trace characters from the original Schulz comics or fill out “Peanuts” coloring pages, Gen Z museumgoers are sketching pop culture renditions of Snoopy — Snoopy as rock band Pierce the Veil, Snoopy as pop star Charli XCX.
“When our social media team puts them up [online], there’s these comments among this generation that gets this, and they’re having conversations about it,” Huntsinger said. “It’s dynamic, it’s fun, it’s creative. It makes me feel like there’s hope in the world.”
The Schulz Museum’s “Passport to Peanuts” exhibition emphasizes the comic’s global reach.
(Brennan Spark / Charles M. Schulz Museum)
Laurel Roxas felt similarly when they first discovered “Peanuts” as a kid while playing the “Snoopy vs. the Red Baron” video game on their PlayStation Portable. For Roxas, who is Filipino, it was Snoopy and not the “Peanuts” children who resonated most.
“Nobody was Asian. I was like, ‘Oh, I’m not even in the story,’” they said.
Because Snoopy was so simply drawn, Roxas added, he was easy to project onto. They felt similarly about Hello Kitty; with little identifying features or dialogue of their own, the characters were blank canvases for their own personification.
Roxas visited Snoopy Museum Tokyo with their brother last year. They purchased so much Snoopy merchandise — “everything I could get my hands on” — that they had to buy additional luggage to bring it home.
For some Snoopy enthusiasts, the high volume of Snoopy products borders on oversaturation, threatening to cheapen the spirit of the character.
Growing up, Bella Shingledecker loved the holiday season because it meant that the “Peanuts” animated specials would be back on the air. It was that sense of impermanence, she believes, that made the films special.
Now, when she sees stacks of Snoopy cookie jars or other trend-driven products at big-box stores like T.J. Maxx, it strikes her as a bit sad.
“It just feels very unwanted,” she said. For those who buy such objects, she said she can’t help but wonder, “Will this pass your aesthetic test next year?”
Lina Jeong, for one, isn’t worried that Snoopy’s star will fade.
“[Snoopy is] always able to show what he feels, but it’s never through words, and I think there’s something really poetic in that,” said Lina Jeong.
(Brennan Spark / Charles M. Schulz Museum)
Jeong’s affinity for the whimsical beagle was passed down to her from her parents, who furnished their home with commemorative “Peanuts” coffee table books. But she fell in love with Snoopy the first time she saw “Be My Valentine, Charlie Brown,” which she rewatches every Valentine’s Day.
This past year, she was fresh out of a relationship when the holiday rolled around and she found herself tearing up during scenes of Snoopy making Valentine’s crafts for his friends.
“Maybe I was hyper-emotional from everything that had happened, but I remember being so struck,” that the special celebrated platonic love over romantic love, Jeong said.
It was a great comfort to her at the time, she said, and she knows many others have felt that same solace from “Peanuts” media — especially from its dear dog.
“Snoopy is such a cultural pillar that I feel like fads can’t just wash it off,” she said.
Soon, she added, she plans to move those “Peanuts” coffee table books into her own apartment in L.A.
The First Avenger is back — and appears to be a dad.
Marvel Studios finally (officially) released its first teaser for “Avengers: Doomsday” on Tuesday, confirming the much-anticipated return of Chris Evans as the super good super soldier Steve Rogers.
The short clip shows Rogers riding up to a house on his motorcycle, looking at his old Captain America uniform, then smiling gently at an infant cradled in his arms. The teaser ends with the words “Steve Rogers will return for ‘Avengers: Doomsday’” appearing on the screen before showing a countdown to the movie’s release.
“The character that changed our lives,” reads the caption shared with the teaser on “Doomsday” directors Anthony and Joe Russo’s joint Instagram page. “The story that brought us all here together. It was always going to come back to this…”
The Russo brothers, of course, made their Marvel Cinematic Universe debut at the helm of the the 2014 film “Captain America: The Winter Soldier.” They followed that up with “Captain America: Civil War” in 2016, before bringing the Infinity Saga home with “Avengers: Infinity War” (2018) and “Avengers: Endgame” (2019).
Rogers was last seen in “Endgame” passing the Captain America shield and mantle to Sam Wilson (Anthony Mackie) after he had chosen to travel back in time to live out a long and happy life with Peggy Carter (Hayley Atwell). Despite Evans bidding the character goodbye after wrapping filming on “Endgame,” Joe Russo had claimed Evans was “not done” with Steve Rogers.
It had been previously reported that Evans would be returning to the MCU for “Doomsday,” but his role remained unclear. Evans appeared in last year’s “Deadpool & Wolverine,” reprising his role as Johnny Storm from the past “Fantastic Four” films.
“Avengers: Doomsday” will pick up sometime after the events of this year’s “Fantastic Four: First Steps” and “Thunderbolts*.” The massive crossover will see “Iron Man” actor Robert Downey Jr. take on the new role of the mysterious Doctor Doom. Other confirmed “Doomsday” cast members include MCU veterans Chris Hemsworth (Thor), Anthony Mackie (Sam Wilson/Captain America), Sebastian Stan (Bucky Barnes), Paul Rudd (Scott Lang/Ant-Man) and Tom Hiddleston (Loki); “Thunderbolts*” stars Florence Pugh (Yelena Belova), David Harbour (Alexei Shostakov/Red Guardian), Lewis Pullman (Bob Reynolds), Wyatt Russell (John Walker) and Hannah John-Kamen (Ava Starr/Ghost); and “Fantastic Four’s” Pedro Pascal (Reed Richards), Vanessa Kirby (Sue Storm), Joseph Quinn (Johnny Storm) and Ebon Moss-Bachrach (Ben Grimm).
“Doomsday” will also feature “X-Men” franchise actors Patrick Stewart (Professor Charles Xavier), Ian McKellen (Magneto), Kelsey Grammer (Beast), Alan Cumming (Nightcrawler), James Marsden (Cyclops) and Rebecca Romijn (Mystique).
“Avengers: Doomsday” will arrive in theaters Dec. 18, 2026.
If the Shakers have a lasting cultural legacy, it is their music — most famously “Simple Gifts,” the uplifting spiritual Aaron Copland immortalized in his ballet “Appalachian Spring.” It stands to reason, then, that a film about Ann Lee, the founding “mother” of this 18th century celibate Christian sect, would be a musical. But this was no conventional woman and “The Testament of Ann Lee,” directed by Mona Fastvold and opening in L.A. on Dec. 25, is no ordinary musical.
“Ann Lee was very radical and extreme,” says composer Daniel Blumberg, “and Mona is as well.”
As conceived by Fastvold and Blumberg, the entire tapestry of this film is musicalized — from the emphatic breathing, chest thumping and floor stomping that make up the worshipers’ rituals, to the songs, inspired by Shaker traditionals and performed by star Amanda Seyfried and the cast. Even the sounds of wind, the creaking of ships and a passing cow play a part.
“This cow walks past during the song ‘I Love Mother,’” says Blumberg, 35, visiting L.A. from his native England and speaking from a hotel room over Zoom. Bald with severe features but a soft and guileless disposition, he’s fidgety about the whole Hollywood press dance — this is only his fourth feature film score. But Blumberg is eager to dissect his music-making process and brag about his collaborators. “We were tuning the cows to the song,” he says.
Amanda Seyfried and Lewis Pullman in the movie “The Testament of Ann Lee.”
(Searchlight Pictures)
In a prologue about Lee’s harsh childhood in Manchester, England, her mother hums a tune to her based on the traditional Shaker hymn “Beautiful Treasures.” The melody is then completed on celeste in Blumberg’s score, surrounded by a liturgical choir. The entire film is this kind of holistic musical current: score, songs and environment all in conversation with each other, every component a part of the dance.
“The whole project was very dangerous,” says Blumberg, an indie singer-songwriter with a cult following in the U.K. and now an Oscar for last year’s “The Brutalist.” “It’s always on the edge. And for me that’s a good place to be when you’re making art.”
In one stunning montage, we see a newly married Lee subjugated to religiously-tinged sex (a catalyst for her dogmatic rejection of carnal relations), give birth to several babies, mourn their deaths and express her sorrow in a fervent dance for God. Erotic noises and the cries of childbirth weave together with prayerful moaning and a mother’s keening cries, all integrated into Blumberg’s instrumental score — a guided meditation for bells and strings — with Seyfried singing “Beautiful Treasures.”
“It was very important to me to try and create this hypnotic feel to the film,” says Fastvold, speaking on Zoom from her car during the awards-season whirlwind. “You had to understand it on a sensorial level. Because I think a lot of the appeal, especially early on, were these kinds of endless dance/voice/confession sessions that would last for days.”
“If it’s just someone preaching to you,” she adds, “I certainly can’t connect to that.”
The director, 44, grew up in a secular home in Norway, but her film about this radical American sect is strikingly earnest. Fastvold doesn’t judge Lee’s convictions; there isn’t an ounce of cynicism or condescension. After having a prophetic vision in which Lee is told she is the female incarnation of Jesus Christ, Seyfried sings, “I hunger and thirst / After true righteousness / I hunger and thirst” with utter heart-bleeding sincerity. The camera and the music share her faith completely.
“I never felt like I wanted to laugh at them,” says Fastvold. “I wanted to laugh with them and sometimes their naivete is funny and endearing. But I never wanted to ridicule them. Of course, it’s a very scary thing to try and do.”
When Seyfried read the screenplay two years ago, she experienced some of that intimidation.
“It was definitely the most confused I’ve been in a while reading a script,” she says, nursing a hot tea on Zoom, “because I’m seeing these placeholders for where the hymns will be, when the music comes in, when the diegetic sound goes out or if it doesn’t at all. It was all very foreign to me — which is not necessarily a bad thing. It just leaves me with so many questions.”
Fastvold co-wrote “The Testament of Ann Lee” with her partner, Brady Corbet, who directed “The Brutalist.” They were developing it while working on his breakthrough epic. Blumberg, who has made a number of solo albums and been part of several bands including Cajun Dance Party and Yuck, became friends with Corbet a decade ago. The trio became inseparable.
Fastvold was listening to Blumberg’s records when she decided to direct “The World to Come” in 2020, a warm historical romance about two women in a chilly frontier America. She remembers being captivated by the “beautiful dissonance” in his music. “There’s this mournful, slightly atonal quality to his compositions,” she says.
Fastvold hired Blumberg to score her film — his first — and invited him to the set in Romania to experience the time-traveling feeling of the woods and the sound of passing sheep. She even gave him a small on-screen part, selling a blue dress to Katherine Waterston’s character. It was emblematic of her and Corbet’s then-burgeoning philosophy: of making lavish films on a shoestring, using stunning foreign environments to portray a bygone America and roping crew members and family into the collaboration.
For her ambitious follow-up musical about the Shakers, Fastvold knew she needed Blumberg at the ground level, along with choreographer Celia Rowlson-Hall, a collaboration that required proximity. “We kind of move in together for a while and just start figuring it out,” Fastvold says.
“The whole project was very dangerous,” says Blumberg. “It’s always on the edge. And for me that’s a good place to be when you’re making art.”
(Ian Spanier / For The Times)
They discussed how to cast a spell on the audience and how, with cinema, “you’ve got these tools to use,” says Blumberg, “with image, sound, the writing of it all and just to push those as far as possible. Obviously with the edit you can move in time very quickly, and then with sound you can bring people into the room that the characters are in, but also bring them into the heavens. It was trying to use the materials that we had to make an experience — with the story, but inside the story as well. An immersive experience.”
Fastvold and Blumberg immersed themselves in the thousands of songs the Shakers left behind, including hymns and what the group called “gift songs” and “dance songs.”
“What is our dialogue with this tradition and what is it that we’re bringing to this conversation?” Fastvold remembers them asking each other. “Because really that, to me, is what folk music is. It’s passed on, it’s transformed — it turns into something else and then passed on again.”
They found several Shaker songs that fit the needs of given scenes and moments; whenever they couldn’t, Blumberg wrote an original. The Jewish composer recalled the niguns — wordless, improvised prayers — that he grew up hearing in synagogue, and he drew on that sense memory. Many Shaker songs are mantra-like prayers addressed to God, simple rising and falling melodies based on a short repeated phrase. Blumberg got creative with the harmonies, creating demos that he sang himself.
“It was very nerve-racking,” he says, “because score is a moment where you can fix things — you do it after the edit — but this was going to define the pace of the film. There’s quite high stakes of it working.”
Seyfried was nervous too. Even though she’s a trained singer, with film credits including “Mamma Mia!” and “Les Misérables,” this peculiar religious epic required an enormous leap of faith.
“I knew Mona was going to shoot it beautifully,” Seyfried says, “and I knew that Daniel was going to be there every step of the way. And I knew that I was in good hands — but I didn’t know at that point that I could trust myself as a singer, as a musician. It was completely new territory for me. Terrifying.”
The songs were prerecorded for playback on set. The first thing Seyfried recorded in studio was an a cappella song for a scene late in the film — the lyric is “How can I but love my dear faithful children?” She says she felt miserable.
“I was just like: I sound terrible,” Seyfried says sincerely. “This song is not fun to sing. It’s beautiful, but I don’t sound beautiful. I don’t like the way I sound. And we kept doing it and my voice was dry.”
Blumberg patiently worked at finding the most comfortable key for her voice. “I had no idea how lucky I was,” she says.
Amanda Seyfried in the movie “The Testament of Ann Lee.”
(TIFF)
In the process of working with Blumberg, Seyfried says she came to a deeper appreciation of the character as well as her own singing voice. “I was so critical of it,” she remembers, but the role gave her a different kind of freedom. “I was playing somebody who didn’t necessarily have to be a beautifully trained singer,” she says. “She sang because she wanted to feel alive, and she wanted to feel free, and she wanted to feel connected to her faith — and that already just liberates the performer.”
After extensive rehearsals that continued throughout production, Fastvold shot the film in Budapest. Blumberg was always on set, accompanying the actors with a small keyboard. (Thomasin McKenzie and Lewis Pullman are among the cast members who also sing in the film.) Sometimes the actors had a simple click track in an earpiece, other times a “stomp track” from the foot choreography. They would sing live in addition to lip-syncing to playback and Fastvold amassed a huge variety of live tracks — vocals, breaths and other bodily sounds — for her final mix.
“I wanted all of that life and that natural feel to it,” she says, “to not have it feel polished at all, to just be really raw. Because they weren’t singing to entertain. It’s never performative. It’s always from this place of prayer or pain.”
With her principal cast surrounded by Hungarian extras, Fastvold roped everyone, from the dialect coach to the first assistant director’s son to Blumberg’s sister, into the dance.
“If you came to visit, you were in the movie,” she says. “The cast is the crew and the crew is the cast. It’s how I like to do it.” Once again, Daniel Blumberg appears on-screen, in scenes of Shaker worship; he also sings an original duet, “Clothed by the Sun,” with Seyfried under the end credits.
But at this point his work was only half done. Armed with a cut of the film, pillared by the songs he wrote and arranged, Blumberg crafted a score that subtly teed up song melodies and established a sense of spiritual trance. He gravitated toward the sound of bells; he and Fastvold found a handbell from Ann’s era that they used in early demos and he ended up renting some 50 church bells, in different keys, all laid out on the floor of his London flat.
He extended the bell idea with the jangly celeste, also known as a bell piano, and he augmented those bells with a small string ensemble, a choir and, at one point, even an electric guitar.
It was Blumberg’s idea to have two veteran improvising singers, Phil Menton and Maggie Nichols (who also appears in the film), to each record a track where they improvised along to the entire film. Working with mixer Steve Single, Fastvold and Blumberg would occasionally bring up one of these stems and layer it into the rest of the soundtrack for an added color.
“We’d say, ‘Let’s hear what Maggie was doing at this point,’” Blumberg says, “and then we’d bring up her stem and be like, ‘Oh, wouldn’t it be nice if she follows that character there?’ Or, ‘Wouldn’t it be nice if she’s humming outside the window?’ Or if it’s almost like the heavens speaking down on Ann?”
The final result is utterly unique to Blumberg and Fastvold, a period character study by way of trance and an experiential approximation of religious fervor. By exploring a distant and somewhat alien community through the device of music, they somehow tapped into something universal.
One of Blumberg’s favorite moments in the film is a scene where a group of sailors, transporting Lee and her disciples to the new world, shout at the Shakers to stop singing. “They really sound like this out-of-tune rabble, and you hear what maybe other people might have heard,” he says. “And then a few minutes later they’re praying on the ship and I’ve used all these reverbs and there’s all these choirs singing in the background — it’s almost like what they felt from within.”
Like the Shakers and their songs and prized furniture, “Ann Lee” was made with craft and care by a small and familial utopian community of its own.
“There were no notes from film people,” says Blumberg. “It was our bubble. So the only fear was just them trying to release it and everyone going, ‘No, that’s just mad.’ But what I was trying to do from the start was: If I got to something that seemed good, how can I push that further? Like, really trying to push everything to the extreme.”
The holidays bring good cheer — an opportunity to reflect but also, most likely, the anxiety of family. Jim Jarmusch’s latest film isn’t set during the season, although the faint flickers of awkwardness, resentment and guilt that pass across its characters’ faces may be painfully familiar to audiences who have an uneasy relationship with their parents. “Father Mother Sister Brother” is here to commiserate, but because the veteran indie auteur remains a sharp chronicler of the quotidian, he has no patience for sentimentality or pat resolutions. The movie glides by so unassumingly, you may be stunned how moved you are by the end.
“Father Mother Sister Brother” is divided into three chapters, each examining a separate family. In the first segment, set somewhere in the Northeast, siblings Jeff (Adam Driver) and Emily (Mayim Bialik) visit their unnamed father (Tom Waits). The second tale shifts to Dublin, where sisters Timothea (Cate Blanchett) and Lilith (Vicky Krieps) arrive at the home of their mother (Charlotte Rampling) for their annual tea party. And in the final chapter, twins Skye (Indya Moore) and Billy (Luka Sabbat) reunite in Paris to close up the apartment owned by their parents, who recently died in a small-plane crash.
Jarmusch has occasionally sliced his narratives into pieces: His films “Night on Earth” and “Coffee and Cigarettes” were anthologies tied together conceptually. Initially, “Father Mother Sister Brother” appears to be similar, but there’s a cumulative power to the movie, which won the Golden Lion at the Venice Film Festival, that reveals a subtle but profound thematic undercurrent.
The first clue comes in the “Father” chapter, which begins with Jeff and Emily in the car. There’s a stilted quality to the conversation as they discuss their eccentric, inscrutable dad. The visit has the heavy air of obligation — they don’t see Dad very often — and when he clumsily welcomes them into his ramshackle house, pregnant pauses and pursed lips ensue. Nothing much happens, until the segment’s finale introduces a twist that suggests the yawning chasm between what we think we know about our parents and what the truth of their lives is.
Once we move to the “Mother” sequence, we’ve started to acclimate to the movie’s discomfiting rhythms — which is good considering that, if anything, Timothea and Lilith’s relationship with their mom is even frostier. Their mother’s polite, excessively formal demeanor cannot mask her befuddlement regarding how to relate to her children. Decked out in an unflattering haircut and eyeglasses, Blanchett plays Timothea as terminally mousy, still craving her aloof mom’s approval. By comparison, Krieps’ Lilith is more assertive, proudly showing off her pink-dyed hair and bragging about a Lexus she doesn’t actually have. Rampling crackles as a matriarch who can sniff out her kids’ lies and insecurities but has the good manners not to say anything. Or maybe it’s not kindness at all but, rather, a way to reassure herself that she will always have the upper hand.
The film’s persistent brittleness may make some viewers antsy. That’s partly the point, but hopefully, they’ll soon be swept away by the movie’s melancholy undertow. Working with a minimalist keyboard score he co-wrote, Jarmusch fills the silences with an ineffable despair. You can feel it in the way Emily looks out her father’s window to the lake beyond, the wintery tableau both tranquil and poignant. You sense it when Timothea quietly inspects herself in a bathroom mirror, wishing her life was more than it is.
Such moments could make you cry. But Jarmusch’s deadpan approach often chases that sadness with a wry chuckle during instances of unfiltered honesty. Krieps relishes portraying her character, a big-talking phony hoping to wow her mother and sister. (At one point, Lilith announces, “I almost hate to say it, but my life’s been like a dream.” Blanchett’s reaction is delicious.) Eventually, we learn to look past Jarmusch’s deceptively mundane surfaces to see the fraught, unresolved issues within these guarded families. The characters occasionally expose their true selves, then just as quickly retreat, fearful of touching on real conflict.
Which brings “Father Mother Sister Brother” to its most affecting sequence. It would be a spoiler to disclose anything about Skye and Billy’s intimate saga, but what becomes clear is that Jarmusch has fashioned the “Father” and “Mother” installments in such a way that the final “Sister Brother” segment hits differently. Just as importantly, Moore and Sabbat’s lovely performances slyly alter our impressions of those previous chapters, building to some of the tenderest moments of Jarmusch’s career.
Turning 73 in January, Jarmusch has lost none of his edge or preternatural cool, but the depth of feeling in recent works like 2016’s “Paterson” becomes, here, a bittersweet meditation on the anguish of trying to unlock the mystery of our aging parents. In “Father Mother Sister Brother,” family can be hell, but the only thing worse is when they’re no longer with us.
Former EastEnders star Liam Hatch has addressed the backlash he faced when he was cast as a schoolboy in the legendary BBC soap opera, despite nearing the age of 30
Daniel Bird Assistant Celebrity and Entertainment Editor
22:55, 23 Dec 2025Updated 22:55, 23 Dec 2025
Liam Hatch has opened up about his appearance on EastEnders(Image: BBC)
An EastEnders star has opened up about the backlash they faced over their controversial casting. Liam Hatch, 29, was cast as school bully Logan in the BBCsoap opera last year, and fans were left quite bewildered.
Despite playing a Year 12 schoolboy, who intimidated Amy Mitchel and Denzel Danes, Liam’s character was ten years older than the typical Year 12 students in England, who are between 16 and 17 in the UK. Introduced by Kate Oates and Chris Clenshaw, Liam’s character appeared in just one episode and attracted a fair amount of criticism on social media.
“The grief I had from it, from Twitter – I sell mortgages, I’m 41, the oldest man alive,” he said. Liam joked: “I don’t look that old!” He went on to explain that he wasn’t 16 when he took on the role, saying: “I was 26.”
Speaking about the response he received from friends and family, the athlete and actor added on the Rokman Podcast: “All my friends and family were like ‘Are you okay? People are taking the p**s out of you. Your age, looks.’ I was like ‘Oh God, I’m not that bad. I’m sure I SPF every day. I look good.
“My dad was loving it, he was like ‘He’s on The Sun!’ I think I’m the only man to be on Page 3 of The Sun topless!” He continued: “I always say to everyone, if your name is coming out of other people’s mouths, you’ve done something, and it doesn’t matter how good or bad it is, it’s happening.”
At the time of Liam’s episode airing, fans were quick to share their thoughts on social media. One said: “Why is this 44-year-old man walking around in a school uniform and picking fights with the local kids?” A second penned: “Almost certain that this schoolboy sold me my mortgage.”
Shortly after the criticism, Liam explained that the comment about being 44 had stuck with him. Speaking to The Guardian, Liam said: “I was looking in the mirror, thinking ‘surely I can’t be looking 44 – that’s five years younger than my dad!'”
Liam, who works as a personal trainer when he’s not preparing for his latest HYROX challenge, said that some of his clients believed he was around the age of 23.
He added to the outlet: “A few of my friends asked if I was OK. But I’m in the performance and fitness industries, I know you’re going to get critics. As long as the performance is showing you are that character, that’s what’s important to an actor. You’re not looking at the appearance but the emotion.”
Liam also explained that while he played a younger character, times had completely changed since he was around the same age as a Year 12 student. He explained that he tried to modernise himself, including his posture and body language as the current generation of teens “have more suave” when they walk and talk.
Former Nebraska U.S. Sen. Ben Sasse, a conservative who rebuked political tribalism and stood out as a longtime critic of President Trump, announced Tuesday he was diagnosed with advanced pancreatic cancer.
Sasse, 53, made the announcement on social media, saying he learned of the disease last week and is “now marching to the beat of a faster drummer.”
“This is a tough note to write, but since a bunch of you have started to suspect something, I’ll cut to the chase,” Sasse wrote. “Last week I was diagnosed with metastasized, stage-four pancreatic cancer, and am gonna die.”
Sasse was first elected to the Senate in 2014. He comfortably won reelection in 2020 after fending off a pro-Trump primary challenger. Sasse drew the ire of GOP activists for his vocal criticism of Trump’s character and policies, including questioning his moral values and saying he cozied up to adversarial foreign leaders.
Sasse was one of seven Republican senators to vote to convict the former president of “ incitement of insurrection ” after the Jan. 6, 2021, attack on the U.S. Capitol. After threats of a public censure back home, he extended his critique to party loyalists who blindly worship one man and rejected him for his refusal to bend the knee.
He resigned from the Senate in 2023 to serve as the 13th president of the University of Florida after a contentious approval process. He left that post the following year after his wife was diagnosed with epilepsy.
Sasse, who has degrees from Harvard, St. John’s College and Yale, worked as an assistant secretary of Health and Human Services under President George W. Bush. He served as president of Midland University, a small Christian university in eastern Nebraska, before he ran for the Senate.
Sasse and his wife have three children.
“I’m not going down without a fight. One sub-part of God’s grace is found in the jawdropping advances science has made the past few years in immunotherapy and more,” Sasse wrote. “Death and dying aren’t the same — the process of dying is still something to be lived.”
The stand-up comic turned actor has spent the past decade as one of Hollywood’s most bankable and visible stars, headlining megahits like the “Jumanji” films alongside a steady output of comedies and animated features, while still selling out arena tours and releasing hit Netflix comedy specials. Off-screen, his face turns up everywhere: pitching banking apps, tequila and energy drinks.
In the era of artificial intelligence, though, that guarantee has begun to erode. A quick Google search for “Kevin Hart AI” turns up unofficial versions of his voice, available with a few clicks.
A series on how the AI revolution is reshaping the creative foundations of Hollywood — from storytelling and performance to production, labor and power.
That helps explain why, one evening last month on the Fox lot, the head of Hart’s entertainment company, Hartbeat, was on an industry panel talking not about box office or release strategies but AI. Jeff Clanagan painted a picture of a landscape in which movie stardom is no longer protected by traditional channels, as attention splinters across platforms and audiences fragment. In that environment, AI can be both a risk and a lever.
“The most valuable resource right now is attention,” Clanagan told the audience of 150 studio executives, filmmakers, investors and technologists gathered at Hollywood X, an invitation-only event focused on responsible adoption of AI. “You’re competing for it everywhere — everybody is always on a second screen. That fragmentation is where the disruption is.”
Hollywood was built on the idea that a small number of stars could reliably command attention and turn it into leverage. As AI and algorithm-driven platforms reshape how attention is created and distributed, even the most recognizable names are newly exposed — not only to dilution but to the prospect of being replaced altogether.
Jeff Clanagan, right, president and chief distribution officer of Kevin Hart’s entertainment company, Hartbeat, speaking on a panel at last month’s Hollywood X event.
(Randall Michelson)
In parts of Asia, synthetic performers are no longer hypothetical. In Japan, the anime-style virtual pop star Hatsune Miku has sold out concerts and headlined festivals. In China, AI hosts run shopping streams on the video platform Douyin. And in the U.S., Lil Miquela, a computer-generated influencer created by the Los Angeles startup Brud, has amassed millions of followers and appeared in major fashion campaigns, including a Calvin Klein ad with Bella Hadid.
For studios, brands and producers, the appeal isn’t hard to see. A virtual performer doesn’t call in sick, miss a shoot or carry off-screen baggage. There’s no aging out of roles, no scheduling crunch. They don’t need trailers, negotiate contracts or arrive with riders, entourages and expense accounts in tow.
The old mythology was that a star might be discovered at Schwab’s lunch counter or in an audition room. Hollywood has always chased the “it factor.” What happens when the performer is, quite literally, an it?
That question came into sharp focus this fall with the appearance of Tilly Norwood, a photorealistic, AI-generated character that took the guise of a rising British actor, styled to read mid-20s and approachable — exactly the kind of star Hollywood is always looking for.
It landed in an industry already on edge. Hollywood was still reeling from strikes, layoffs and a prolonged contraction, with anxiety about AI simmering just below the surface. The response was immediate and visceral.
SAG-AFTRA warned that projects like Tilly risked relying on what the union called “stolen performances,” arguing that AI-generated actors draw on the work of real performers without consent or compensation, concerns that were central to the union’s 2023 strike. On a Variety podcast, Emily Blunt was shown an image of Tilly and paused. “No — are you serious? That’s an AI?” she said. “Good Lord, we’re screwed.”
SAG-AFTRA members march in one “Unity Picket” on strike day 111 at Walt Disney Studios in Burbank on Nov. 1, 2023.
(Myung J. Chun / Los Angeles Times)
Even some of Hollywood’s most tech-forward figures have drawn a line. On the press tour for his latest film, “Avatar: Fire and Ash,” James Cameron — the director who once warned of Skynet in “The Terminator” — called the idea of AI replacing actors “horrifying,” arguing that human performance would become increasingly “sacred.”
Yves Bergquist, an AI researcher who directs the AI in Media Project at the USC Entertainment Technology Center — a think tank supported by major studios and technology companies — expects AI to continue to encroach on territory once reserved solely for humans.
“Will we see AI movie stars?” Bergquist asks. “Probably.” But he draws a line between what the technology can generate and what audiences are willing to invest in emotionally.
“Prince writing his songs is a great story,” he says. “Pushing a button and making music is not. Very soon — it’s already starting — we’re going to have this us-versus-them mentality. These are the machines and we’re the humans. And we’re not the same.”
The actor that didn’t exist
“Are you allowed to speak to me from L.A.?” Eline van der Velden, the creator of Tilly Norwood, asks with a quick, nervous laugh on a video call from London — a nod to how radioactive the subject of synthetic performers has become.
The question isn’t entirely a joke. Three months ago, when Van der Velden presented her latest project at an industry conference in Zurich, it touched off one of Hollywood’s most heated debates yet over AI and performance, one that still hasn’t fully cooled.
Van der Velden, 39, came up as an actor before pivoting into production, eventually landing in London, where she founded Particle6, a digital production company known for short-form video work for broadcasters and major platforms. She was in Zurich to introduce its newest offshoot, Xicoia, an AI studio designed to build and manage original synthetic characters for entertainment, advertising and social media. “It’s not a talent agency — we’re making characters,” she says. “So it’s really like a Marvel universe studio in a way.”
Eline van der Velden, creator of the AI-constructed Tilly Norwood, at Web Summit 2025 in Lisbon, Portugal.
(Florencia Tan Jun/Sportsfile via Getty Images)
Tilly Norwood was meant to be the first and most visible example of that approach. Conceived as a recurring character with an unfolding story arc, Tilly was built to exist across short-form videos and scripted scenarios. As part of the Zurich presentation, Van der Velden screened a short satirical video titled “AI Commissioner,” introducing Tilly as a “100% AI-generated” actor — smiling on a red carpet and breaking down on a talk-show couch.
Other short videos featuring Tilly had already circulated online, including a montage placing her in familiar movie genres and a parody riffing on Sydney Sweeney’s controversial American Eagle jeans ad (“My genes are binary”). The “AI Commissioner” video itself had been posted on YouTube months earlier. By then, photorealistic synthetic characters were no longer novel and similar experiments were spreading online.
In Hollywood, it triggered an immediate backlash. Press accounts out of Zurich, amplified by Van der Velden’s remark that Tilly might soon be signed to an agent, collided with an industry already on edge about AI. Van der Velden was stunned at the intensity of the outcry: “Tilly was meant to be for entertainment,” she says. “It’s not to be taken too seriously. I think people have taken her way too seriously.”
Across the industry, working actors, already facing shrinking opportunities, recoiled at the idea of a fabricated performer potentially taking real jobs. Some called for a boycott of any agents who might take on Norwood. Speaking to The Times, SAG-AFTRA President Sean Astin demanded that the real-life actors used for AI modeling be compensated. “They need to know that it’s happening,” he said. “They need to give permission for it and they need to be bargained with.”
As the coverage ricocheted far beyond the trades and went global, the reaction escalated just as quickly. Asked when she knew Tilly had struck a nerve, Van der Velden answers matter-of-factly: “When I got the death threats. That’s when I was like, oh — this has taken a very different turn.”
Van der Velden understands why the idea of a synthetic performer unsettled people, especially in a business already raw from layoffs, strikes and contraction. “Tilly is showing what we can do with the tech at this moment in time, and that is frightening,” she says. But she argues that much of the backlash rests on fears that, in her view, haven’t yet materialized — at least not in the way people imagine them.
Tilly Norwood, an AI construct created by Particle6.
(Particle6)
“There’s a bad reputation around AI,” she says. “People try to swing all sorts of things at it, like, ‘Oh, it’s taking my job.’ Well, I don’t know of anyone whose acting job has actually been taken by AI. And Tilly certainly hasn’t taken anyone’s job.”
Union representatives argue that displacement is already occurring through subtler mechanisms: background roles increasingly filled by digital doubles, commercials replacing actors with synthetic performers and projects that never get greenlighted because AI offers a cheaper alternative. The impact shows up not in pink slips but in opportunities that vanish before auditions are ever held.
Even as the controversy grew, Van der Velden says she began hearing something else privately. Producers and executives reached out, curious about what Tilly could do, with several asking about placing the character in traditional film or television projects — offers she says she declined. “That’s not what Tilly was made for,” she says.
Van der Velden insists the character was never intended to replace actors, framing Tilly instead as part of a different creative lineage, closer to animation. “I was an actor myself — I absolutely love actors,” she says. “I love pointing a camera at a real actress. Please don’t stop casting actors. That’s not the aim of the game.”
With a background in musical theater and physics, Van der Velden spent her early career in Los Angeles acting, improvising at Upright Citizens Brigade and making YouTube sketches. An alter ego she created, Miss Holland — designed to make fun of rigid beauty standards — won an online comedy award and helped launch her career in the U.K., where she founded Particle6.
Tilly began as an exercise: Could Van der Velden design a virtual character who felt instantly familiar, the kind of approachable young woman audiences would naturally be drawn to? “It’s like building a Barbie doll,” she says, noting at one point she considered making Tilly half robot. “I had fun making her. It was a creative itch.”
She pushes back on the idea that synthetic characters are simply stitched together from parts of real people. “People think you take this actress’ eyes and nose and that actress’ mouth,” she says. “That’s not how it works at all.”
Over six months, a team of about 15 people at Particle6 worked on developing Tilly, generating more than 2,000 visual versions and testing nearly 200 names before selecting Tilly Norwood, one that fit what Van der Velden calls the “English rose” aesthetic they were looking for and wasn’t already taken. “It’s very human-led,” Van der Velden says, likening AI tools to a calculator for creatives. “You need taste. You need judgment. You still have to call the shots.”
Even as the technology advances, the uncanny valley remains a stubborn barrier. Van der Velden says Tilly has improved over the last six months, but only through sustained human steering. “It takes a lot of work to get it right,” she says.
That labor, she says, is what separates an emerging form of storytelling worth taking seriously from AI slop. “I’ve seen some genuinely amazing work coming out of AI filmmaking,” she says. “It’s a different art form but a real one.”
She sees Tilly less as a provocation than as a reflection. “She represents this moment of fear in our industry as a piece of art. But I would say to people: Don’t be fearful. We can’t wish AI away. It’s here. The question is, how do we use it positively?”
Her focus now is on what she calls Tilly’s “inside” — the personality, memory and backstory that give the character continuity over time. That interior life is being built with Particle6’s proprietary system, DeepFame, software designed to give the character memory and behavioral consistency from one appearance to the next.
“People ask me things like what her favorite food is,” Van der Velden says. “I’m not going to answer for Tilly. She has a voice of her own. I’d rather you ask her yourself — very soon.”
Hollywood fights back
While Van der Velden wishes the industry were less afraid of what AI might become, Alexandra Shannon is helping Hollywood arm itself for what’s already here.
As head of strategic development at Creative Artists Agency, one of the industry’s most powerful agencies, Shannon works with actors, filmmakers and estates trying to navigate what generative technology means for their work — and their identities.
The questions she hears tend to fall into two camps. “First is, how do I protect myself — my likeness, my voice, my work?” she says. “And then there’s the flip side: How do I engage with this, but do it safely?”
Those concerns led to the creation of the CAA Vault, a secure repository for approved digital scans of a client’s face and voice. Shannon describes it as a way to capture a likeness once, then allow performers to decide when and where it can be used — for example, in one shot created for one film. It doesn’t eliminate uncertainty, she says, but it gives talent something they’ve rarely had since AI companies entered the picture: control.
“There’s a legitimate way to work with them,” she adds. “Anything outside that isn’t authorized.”
Creative Artists Agency’s headquarters in Century City, where talent representatives are grappling with how to protect clients’ likenesses.
(Robert Gauthier / Los Angeles Times)
Those risks are no longer abstract. Unauthorized AI-generated images and videos resembling Scarlett Johansson have circulated online. Deepfake ads have falsely enlisted Tom Hanks to promote medical products. AI-generated images have placed Taylor Swift in fabricated scenarios she never endorsed. Once a likeness becomes live and responsive, Shannon says, control can erode quickly.
For all the panic around AI, Shannon rejects the idea that digital likeness will undercut human stars overnight. “It’s not about all of a sudden you can work with Brad Pitt and you can do it for a fraction of the cost,” Shannon says. “That is not where we see the market going.”
What CAA is intent on preserving, she says, isn’t just a face or a voice but the accumulated meaning of a career.
“For an individual artist, their body of work is built over years of creative decisions — what roles to take, what brands or companies to work with, and just as importantly, what roles not to do, what companies not to support,” she adds. “That body of work is a fundamental expression of who they are.”
Shannon doesn’t dispute that the tools are improving or that some AI-native personas will find an audience. But she believes their growth will sharpen, not weaken, what distinguishes human performance in the first place. “In a world where there’s this vast proliferation of AI-generated content, people will continue to crave live, shared, human-centered experiences,” she contends. “I think it’s only going to make those things more valuable.”
Not everyone is convinced the balance will tilt so neatly.
“The genie’s out of the bottle,” Christopher Travers says by phone from Atlanta, where he runs Travers Tech, advising companies and individual creators on generative video and digital-identity strategy. “There are now more than a million characters across all sorts of media, from VTubers to AI-generated performers.”
Travers got his start in generative AI with the backing of Mark Cuban, founding Virtual Humans in 2019, a startup focused on computer-generated performers and digital identities. These days, his journey would have been much easier. “It costs nearly nothing now,” he says. “And when cost drops, volume increases. There’s pressure on celebrities to keep up.”
Having watched countless virtual characters come and go, Travers wasn’t particularly impressed with Tilly Norwood herself. What mattered to him was the reaction.
“Tilly is maybe 1% of the story,” he says. “The other 99% is the worry and the fear. What it did was strike a chord. We all needed to have this conversation.”
What stardom looks like now
Few people have spent more time inside Hollywood’s old star-making system than mega-producer Jerry Bruckheimer, whose films like “Beverly Hills Cop,” “Top Gun” and “Pirates of the Caribbean” helped turn actors into global commodities.
Even amid the disruption reshaping Hollywood, he believes the industry still knows how to discover and elevate stars. “It’ll happen,” he told The Times earlier this year. “Timothée Chalamet is a star and Zendaya is a star. Glen Powell is becoming a star — we’re going to bring him up. Damson Idris is going to be a star. Now they have to be smart and make good choices on what they do. That’s up to them.”
Stellan Skarsgård as Luthen Rael in the series “Andor.”
(Des Willie / Lucasfilm Ltd.)
The industry may still know how to make stars, but keeping them there has become harder. Chalamet’s biggest box office successes, like “Wonka” and the “Dune” films, have arrived as part of franchises rather than as standalone vehicles. Powell’s latest film, last month’s remake of “The Running Man,” fell short of expectations.
Bruckheimer himself has been pragmatic about AI. During postproduction on his recent Brad Pitt–led Formula One drama, an AI-based voice-matching tool was briefly used to replicate Pitt’s voice when the actor was unavailable for looping, a demonstration of how AI can extend a star’s reach rather than replace them. “AI is only going to get more useful for people in our business,” he says.
If Hollywood has been having more difficulty launching fresh faces, it has become adept at keeping familiar ones on the screen. AI tools can smooth a face, rebuild a voice or extend a performance long after an actor might otherwise have aged out. Stardom no longer has to end with retirement — or even death.
Stellan Skarsgård, for one, is uneasy with the idea. In recent years, the veteran actor — a current Oscar front-runner for “Sentimental Value” — has been part of two of Hollywood’s most valuable franchises, playing Luthen Rael in the “Star Wars” series “Andor” and Baron Harkonnen in the “Dune” films, roles built to carry on through sequels and spinoffs.
Asked about the prospect of an AI version of himself playing those characters after he’s gone, the 75-year-old Skarsgård bristles. The question carries particular weight. Three years ago he suffered a stroke, an experience that forced a reckoning with his craft and sense of mortality.
“SAG has been very adamant — there was a strike about it,” Skarsgård says. “And I do hope it won’t be like that in the future, that it will be controlled and that money won’t have all the rights.” He pauses. “You should have rights as a person, to your own voice, your own personality.”
Those questions — about control, consent and what survives a person — moved from the abstract to the practical last month at Hollywood X on the Fox lot.
Onstage, Jeff Clanagan mentioned a documentary that Hartbeat, Kevin Hart’s entertainment company, is producing with the estate of comedian Bernie Mac, who died in 2008. Built around Mac’s own audiobook narration, the documentary will rely on authorized existing recordings, not newly generated performances, pairing traditional animation with AI-assisted imagery to visualize moments Mac had already described. Clanagan said the technology offered a faster, less expensive way to bring those scenes to life.
But that took some convincing. An Oscar-winning director attached to the project initially wanted to tell the story entirely through traditional animated reenactments. Clanagan said it took months of persuasion — including creating sample scenes to demonstrate the approach — before that resistance eased. “Once he saw it, he was converted, and now we’re doing a little bit of a hybrid,” he said.
That work, Clanagan added, has become part of the job, not just externally but inside Hartbeat as well. “Part of it is educating the talent community on what you can do and still be aligned,” he said, noting that much of the hesitation comes from fear stoked by headlines and unfamiliarity with the tools. “It’s about helping people understand the process. People are starting to believe.”
As the Hollywood X panel ended, attendees filed out of a theater named for Darryl F. Zanuck, one of the architects of the studio-era star system, then crossed the Fox lot toward a reception. Along the way, they passed by cavernous soundstages, some painted with towering murals: Marilyn Monroe in “The Seven Year Itch,” Julie Andrews in “The Sound of Music,” Bruce Willis in “Die Hard.” Faces from another era, still watching as the industry weighs what will endure.
Phil Wickham has released 14 Christian worship albums, has been Platinum certified and nominated for American Music Awards, Dove Awards, Billboard Music Awards and Grammys — but all of his vocal training and performances couldn’t prepare him to step into the shoes of one of his Biblical heroes with the upcoming animated musical film “David.”
Directed by Phil Cunningham and Brent Dawes, “David” marks the second animated film this year for Angel Studios. April’s “The King of Kings” made $60 million and is the second-highest-grossing film from the studio following “Sound of Freedom,” which made $184 million. The film hits theaters on Friday. If the release date sounds familiar, it could be because the third installment in the multibillion-dollar “Avatar” franchise, “Avatar: Fire and Ash,” is released on the same day. Presale numbers for “David” are at $15 million on 3,100 screens, but with “Avatar” tracking to open between $135 million and $165 million, and “The SpongeBob Movie: Search for SquarePants” also tracking between $13 million and $20 million, it would seem to be a true David vs. Goliaths for ticket sales.
That in itself could be daunting, but for Wickham, the biggest obstacles came long before release dates were decided. Despite playing in arenas with thousands of fans, he had a “secret dream” of voicing a character in an animated film. A character “that carried courage and faith and had some grand adventure.” But because he’d never chased that dream, he realistically put a limit on that particular goal. Even when the opportunity arose, he was hesitant when going into a casting meeting.
“I’m unoffendable. [I said to producers], if I suck, then just tell me because I don’t want to waste anybody’s time. And also, I don’t want to be bad in a movie as much as you don’t want to make a bad movie,” says Wickham.
The contemporary Christian artist, who recently finished sold-out concerts at Downey Calvary Chapel and the Wiltern, had never tried his hand at voice acting. Not only did he get the role, but he also had to help bring to (animated) life one of the most well-known stories in the Bible. The tale of David — the boy who was anointed to become the king and along the way felled the giant Philistine warrior Goliath with a rock and a slingshot — has become synonymous as the most famous of underdog representations and tests of faith in the Bible. The character and story is also one of Wickham’s favorites.
Phil Wickham always wanted to voice an animated character, especially after seeing “The Lion King.”
(Colton Dall)
“When this came across my desk, so to speak, I was just like, man, I could tell you that story, but I didn’t know if I had it in me. I didn’t know if I was a good actor. I didn’t know if I could voice a character, but I knew I wanted a shot,” said Wickham.
A curious revelation for Wickham was discovering that the singing that he’d been doing most of his life would not work on-screen, at least not for this project. He was asked to tone down things, to sometimes “talk through” lyrics and to generally make the music more dramatic for the screen.
“I thought, OK, I got this. This is why they hired me, because I’m a singer. But that ended up being the hardest part because they didn’t want me to sound like me,” Wickham said.
“Singing became a background to just being the character, which honestly, in some ways, was the hardest thing. Maybe even for my ego as as an artist.”
It was definitely a process that required lots of fine-tuning and looking at David as not just the king and hero that Wickham had grown up reading about at home and in Southern California churches. Sitting in the pews in Downey, the singer reflected on why he got into music and why Christian entertainment is on the rise.
“I found out really quick that I loved being a part of moments where people were encountering the same hope and faith that I encountered in my room alone,” Wickham said of songwriting and performing. He grew up with Christianity all around him, but has seen a spike in popularity for music and movies dealing with faith-based fandom.
“For this movie ‘David’ to come out at this time … I think that the world is looking for stuff to hope in. I think people are just searching and finding out more and more the truth that if we look around us at the world of man, we’re not going to find real solutions. So that maybe if we look up, we will.”
“Stereophonic,” David Adjmi’s heralded drama that won five Tony Awards including best play, is ready for its Los Angeles close-up.
The first national tour production, which opened Wednesday at the Hollywood Pantages Theatre, seems right at home in the music capital of the world. The play about a 1970s rock band on the brink of superstardom takes place in recording studios in Sausalito and L.A., where the Laurel Canyon vibe is never out of sight.
The visual crispness of this L.A. premiere goes a long way toward dispelling doubts that the Pantages is the wrong venue for this ensemble drama. If there’s a problem, it isn’t the cavernousness of the theater. The production, gleaming with period details on a set by David Zinn that gives us clear views into both the sound and control rooms, comfortably inhabits the performance space, at least from the perspective of a decent orchestra seat.
The play, which includes original music from Will Butler, the Grammy-winning artist formerly of Arcade Fire, has a sound every bit as robust as one of the blockbuster musicals that regularly passes through the Pantages. The songs, crushed by the actors at top volume, are Butler’s indie rock re-creation of cuts for a part-British, part-American band that bears such a striking resemblance to Fleetwood Mac that a lawsuit brought by a former sound engineer and producer of the group was eventually settled.
Adjmi, like Shakespeare, takes his inspiration where he finds it. And like the Bard, he makes his sources his own, alchemizing the material for novel ends.
The touring production of “Stereophonic” makes clear just how integral the original cast was to the success of the play.
(Julieta Cervantes)
Unfolding in 1976 and 1977, “Stereophonic” offers a fly-on-the-wall perspective of a band at a crossroads. While recording a new album top-heavy with expectations, the group falls prey to romantic conflicts and self-destructive spirals, to toxic jealousies and seething insecurities. The prospect of fame magnifies pathologies that have been intensifying over time.
Diana (Claire DeJean) is the Stevie Nicks of the band. Beautiful, achingly vulnerable and awash in lyrical talent, she is entangled in a relationship with Peter (Denver Milord), the Lindsey Buckingham of the group, who strives for musical perfection no matter the cost.
Their connection is as professionally enriching as it is personally destructive. Diana’s ambition is matched by her self-doubt. She’s susceptible to a Svengali yet doesn’t want anyone to tell her how to write her songs.
Peter, angrily competitive, can’t help resenting the natural ease of Diana’s talent, even as it’s her song from their first album that has put the band back in the spotlight. His genius is ferociously exacting while hers seems to spring naturally from her soul.
Artistically they depend on each other, but the tension between them is unsustainable. And as the play makes clear, there’s no way to keep their personal lives out of the studio.
DeJean and Milord are the most captivating performers in the ensemble. The other actors are solid but this touring production makes clear just how integral the original cast was to the success of the play.
Daniel Aukin’s production, which had its New York premiere at Playwrights Horizons in 2023 before moving to Broadway the following year, hasn’t lost its confident flow. The storytelling is lucidly laid out. But the tantalizing peculiarities of the characters have been whittled down.
The British band members suffer the worst of it. Emilie Kouatchou’s Holly moves the character away from the obvious Christine McVie reference, but her role has become vaguer and less central. Cornelius McMoyler’s Simon, the drummer and weary manager, fills the bill in every respect but gravitas, which must be in place if the character’s ultimate confrontation with Peter is to have the necessary payoff.
No one could compete with Will Brill, who won a Tony for his strung-out portrayal of Reg, a deranged innocent whose addictions and dysfunctions create farcical havoc for the band. Christopher Mowod can’t quite endow this “sad man in a blanket,” as Simon dubs his bundled-up bandmate, with the same level of fey madness that Brill was able to entertainingly supply.
These casting differences wouldn’t be worth noting if it weren’t for their impact on a play that distinguishes itself by its observational detail. Everything is just a little more obvious, including the two American sound guys bearing the brunt of the artistic temperaments running riot in the studio.
Jack Barrett’s Grover, the sound engineer who lied about his background to get the job, sands off some of the character’s rough edges in a more straightforwardly appealing version of the character than Eli Gelb’s bracing portrayal in New York. Steven Lee Johnson’s Charlie, the dorky assistant sound engineer, is an amiable weirdo, though I missed the way Andrew R. Butler played him almost like a space alien in New York.
The play has been edited, but it’s still a bit of an endurance test. Art isn’t easy for the characters or for us. But the effort isn’t in vain.
Adjmi’s overlapping dialogue and gaping silences, orchestrated in a neo-Chekhovian style, renders the invisible artistic process visible. By the end of the play, the tumultuous human drama behind creative brilliance emerges in poignant, transcendent glory.
‘Stereophonic’
Where: Hollywood Pantages Theatre, 6233 Hollywood Blvd., L.A.
When: 7:30 p.m. Tuesdays-Thursdays; 8 p.m. Fridays; 2 and 8 p.m. Saturdays; 1 and 6:30 p.m. Sundays. (Check schedule for exceptions.) Ends Jan. 2.
Tickets: Start at $57 (subject to change)
Contact: BroadwayInHollywood.com or Ticketmaster.com
Running time: 2 hours, 55 minutes (including one intermission)
