comedy

Jon Stewart’s biting satire may have made his new bosses squirm, but they went ahead and extended the comedian’s run on Comedy Central through December 2026.

The channel’s parent company, Paramount, announced Monday that Stewart will continue to host “The Daily Show” on Monday nights and serve as an executive producer through the end of next year.

Members of the show’s news team will continue to share Tuesday through Thursday hosting duties. Terms of the contract were not disclosed.

“Jon Stewart continues to elevate the genre he created. His return is an ongoing commitment to the incisive comedy and sharp commentary that define The Daily Show,” Ari Pearce, Comedy Central’s manager said in a prepared statement. “We’re proud to support Jon and the extraordinary news team.”

Stewart’s contract was re-upped nearly four months after Paramount-owned sister network CBS notified Stephen Colbert, who rose to fame on “The Daily Show,” that it was dumping his late night show at the end of the season. The cancelation was revealed days after Colbert lambasted a $16 million settlement Paramount agreed to pay President Trump to end a lawsuit over edits to “60 Minutes.” Colbert called the arrangement “a big fat bribe.”

Paramount settled the Trump suit to win approval from the Trump administration of its sale to David Ellison’s Skydance Media and RedBird Capital Partners. CBS has said the reason for Colbert’s cancellation was financial, not political, although many people have expressed doubts.

Ellison took ownership of Paramount in August. Stewart has joked that he, too, might be tossed as the company tries to reposition itself to the political center.

Last week, the company began a deep round of layoffs, cutting 1,000 employees with plans to terminate another 1,000 in the coming weeks, in an effort to trim its workforce by 10%.

After a nine-year absence, Stewart returned as a host in February 2024. He had helmed the show for 16 years before taking a break in 2015. His current contract was expiring.

The show was hosted by Trevor Noah until 2022, when he stepped down. That prompted a rotation of guest hosts, including Kal Penn, Charlamagne tha God, Sarah Silverman and Michelle Wolf.

Last month, during a conversation with the New Yorker at a cultural festival, Stewart was asked whether he might stick around longer. “We’re working on staying,” Stewart told the New Yorker’s David Remnick.

The rotation of “The Daily Show” hosts also will include Ronny Chieng, Josh Johnson, Jordan Klepper, Michael Kosta, and Desi Lydic with Troy Iwata and Grace Kuhlenschmidt.

Ben Stiller has made a lovely, dreamlike film about his parents, the comedian-actors Jerry Stiller and Anne Meara, which is also a film about himself, his sister, Amy Stiller, and his own fatherhood as reflected back by his children and his wife, the actor Christine Taylor. Premiering Friday on Apple TV, “Stiller & Meara: Nothing Is Lost” is a show business story, in large part, but will be emotionally familiar to anyone who has had the occasion to wonder about their parents’ lives, in their parents’ absence.

Though both had set out to be actors — “I carried Eleanora Duse’s life under one arm,” says Anne, “and ‘An Actor Prepares,’ Stanislavski, under the other” — Jerry had been thinking of getting into comedy when he met Anne. They married in 1954, but it wasn’t until 1963 that the conjoined career of Stiller and Maera took off, with an appearance on “The Ed Sullivan Show.” They might play the last two people on Earth meeting for the first time, or an Irish girl and a Jewish boy matched by computer dating. He was a fretful perfectionist who would endlessly rehearse; Anne was naturally funny; she flowed.

As documentary subjects go, the Stillers were not remarkably dysfunctional — no violence, no skeletons — past the not uncommon situation of parents whose work, or fixation on work, often took them away from their kids, physically or mentally, with the added fillip of that work having made them famous. (There are references to Anne’s drinking, which bothered Jerry, but this is not a hole the film runs down, and there’s nothing here to suggest it diminished her life or work.) As different people with different goals — “My mom wanted to be happy independent of performing,” says Ben, “and I think for my dad performing was so important to him it was part of his happiness” — there was tension, but they loved each other, and they loved their kids, and stayed married for 62 years, until Anne’s death in 2015.

Stiller frames the film with his and Amy’s return to the Upper West Side apartment where they were raised in order to clear it out to be sold, providing the opportunity to see what their parents had left behind. (Jerry died in 2020.) And it was a lot — nothing is lost if nothing is thrown away. There are love letters, diaries, scripts, manuscripts. (Anne: “I think Jerry has a need to keep his name going and for some reason he thinks that when we check out and pass over that the Smithsonian institute is going to want his memorabilia.”) Jerry had a habit, amounting to a compulsion, of documenting their life on film and tape; some of their conversations, and arguments, would turn into routines. (“Where does the act end and the marriage begin?” Anne wonders.) Raised voices in another room might be rehearsing or fighting. One routine consisted of escalating declarations of hate: “I hated you before I met you.” “I hated you before you were born.”

They quit playing nightclubs in 1970 (they drove her “meshuggah”), but remained in public view — in guest appearances, game shows and talk shows, where, unlike the highly managed appearances of today, they seemed ready to dish the dirt on themselves, providing Ben Stiller with material for this film. And they went to work as actors, each amassing a long list of screen and stage appearances. Jerry, of course, is now best known from “Seinfeld,” where he played George’s father, Frank Costanza, and “The King of Queens,” acting in nearly 200 episodes.

Much of it has to do with Ben and Amy as children of famous people, of family vacations that became working vacations, and growing up on display. In one clip from “The Mike Douglas Show,” the siblings perform “Chopsticks” as a screechy violin duet. Young Ben, already interested in film and asked by an interviewer if his parents will feature in his movies, says that they won’t: “I’ll be making adventure or a murder or something like that, but never a comedy. I don’t like comedy.”

We get glimpses of Stiller’s own prolific career — in comedy, mostly, as it turned out — as well as confessions of his own failings as a family man. (His children, Quin and Ella, get to have their good-humored but penetrating say, as does Taylor, from whom he separated in 2017, and with whom he reunited during the pandemic.) But there’s no evident resentment on the part of Ben and Amy, just curiosity and self-examination as adults whose own lives have taught them something about being adults, amid the knowledge that their parents had parents, too, and some of their imperfections became imperfections of their own.

Both Anne and Jerry had come from dark places. “Their lives were always reaching for the light,” says the playwright John Guare, whose black comedy “The House of Blue Leaves” Anne performed in off-Broadway. “Why don’t you become a stagehand?” Jerry’s father told him when Jerry first told him of his ambition. “Where do you get off trying to be Eddie Cantor?” Anne’s mother died by suicide. “Your father was kind of a saint, you know,” Christopher Walken tells Ben.

Stiller’s approach is musical; his assembly of clips and photos is musical — poetic, not prosaic. He ends his film with a conversation between Jerry and his aged father, Willie, cut to a montage of the family through time.

“Isn’t this better than anything, just being alive?” says Jerry. “When we go, we’ll go together, you and me”

Willie: “Yeah, OK, hold hands and everything else.”

“You’ll take me to shows again when we get up there?”

“Yeah, when I go I’ll take you any place. … What is this?”

“It’s a tape recorder. … Whatever you say is on that tape. They’ll hear you forever. You’ll never be lost.”

And we see young Ben, filming a camera that’s filming him, as his father steps in behind him.

The cult comedy, which stars Kristen Wiig, Laura Dern and Carol Burnett, is returning for a second season next month

Yellowstone star Josh Lucas appears completely different in the forthcoming second series of Palm Royale, arriving on Apple TV+ next month.

The quirky comedy features Kristen Wiig as an ambitious social climber attempting to break into an elite society circle in 1960s Florida.

Despite garnering merely 56 percent on Rotten Tomatoes, the debut series has slowly cultivated a devoted fanbase who insist it’s been “underrated” by reviewers.

Fortunately, it also proved sufficiently popular to secure a second series, which will see Wiig’s Maxine Dellacorte-Simmons reunited with Lucas, who plays her on-screen spouse Douglas Darby Dellacorte-Simmons.

Lucas, who has also appeared in films Sweet Home Alabama and Ford v Ferrari, is familiar to Yellowstone viewers for his portrayal of a younger Kevin Costner’s central character John Dutton in flashback sequences, reports the Mirror US.

Nevertheless, he appears utterly different in the sneak peek at Palm Royale series two, trading his cowboy hat and denim for a leather jacket, shades and aviator’s cap.

Viewers who have already watched the first series will have witnessed Lucas sporting a 60s-style haircut, complete with sideburns, and a freshly-shaved appearance.

The upcoming series will continue with Maxine grappling with Douglas’ infidelity as well as the impending arrival of his child with another woman.

If you haven’t already caught up with Palm Royale’s inaugural series, now’s the ideal moment as newcomers still have until 12th November before series two begins.

Viewers have been singing praises for the first series, with one Redditor posting: “Okay, what is up with the rating? This show is fabulous.”

“A lot of people don’t understand the tone of the show,” another viewer concurred.

“It’s camp, it’s fun, it’s a technicolor spectacular I wish everyone could just enjoy it and let it grow for a few more seasons.”

A third fan chimed in: “This is my favourite new show in the past few years! What talent! What writing!

“So incredibly funny and fabulous. Love the fashion and the cinematography. Every week keeps me wanting more! Love is an understatement!”

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The series also boasts several five-star Google reviews, with one viewer penning: “Love Kristen Wiig. Hilarious, comedic genius.

“Then I searched out the cast and I knew I couldn’t pass it up. Carol Burnett… The Queen of everything, Laura Dern. The leading cast is exquisite, all the parts are moving. This show is so much fun and quite entertaining with absurd scenarios.”

Will you be giving Palm Royale a chance now it’s returning for another round of misadventures in Florida?

Palm Royale season 2 premieres Wednesday, 12th November on Apple TV+. Yellowstone is available to stream on Paramount+.

It’s easy to miss the confidence of Billy Wilder or Frank Capra whenever some brave soul tries to make a comedy that takes America’s temperature by straddling cynicism and optimism. Those Hollywood masters could handily juggle the sweet, sour and satirical and, in Wilder’s case, even leave you believing in a happy ending.

With his writing-directing feature debut, “Good Fortune,” however, Aziz Ansari, who stars alongside Seth Rogen and Keanu Reeves (as an angel named Gabriel), swings big, hoping to capture that jokey truth-telling vibe about the State of Things. His subject is a fertile one too: the gig economy fostering our crushing inequity, but also the desperation of the have-nots and how oblivious the wealthy are about those who made them rich. So let’s stick it to the billionaires! Let Keanu help the downtrodden!

Ansari’s high-low morality tale, set in our fair (and unfair) Los Angeles, is a friendly melding of celestially tinged stories (“Heaven Can Wait,” “Wings of Desire”) and body-swap comedies (“Trading Places”). But as agreeable as it is, it can’t square its jabs with its sentimentality. It’s got heart, kind eyes, a wry smile and some funny lines, but no teeth when you really need things bitten into, chewed up and spit out.

Ansari plays Arj, living a serious disconnection between his professional identity — wannabe Hollywood film editor — and how he actually exists: task-gigging for scraps and living in his car. When a garage-reorganizing job for Jeff (Rogen), a Bel-Air venture capitalist, turns into an assistant position, Arj feels secure enough to use the company card for a fancy dinner with occasional colleague and romantic interest Elena (an underused Keke Palmer). Jeff clocks the charge the next day, though (a realistic detail about the rich watching every penny), and immediately fires Arj.

All along, Arj’s sad situation has touched Reeves’ long-haired, khaki-suited angel, whose life-saving purview (he specializes in jostling distracted drivers) is low in the hierarchy overseen by boss guardian Martha (Sandra Oh). Gabriel wants a big healing job to show Arj, with a little role-reversal magic, that being Jeff isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Except, of course, it is. (David Mamet’s line “Everybody needs money — that’s why they call it money” comes to mind.) The newly luxe-and-loving-it Arj shows no signs of wanting to switch back (which is apparently his call to make in the rules of this scenario), leaving out-of-his-depth Gabriel in the position of convincing a sudden billionaire why he should go back to being poor.

Which is where “Good Fortune,” for all its grasp of how Depression-era screwball comedies made the filthy rich mockable, struggles to match its issue-driven humor with its fix-it heart. While it’s funny to watch Rogen’s freshly desperate character suffer food-delivery humiliation, buying the script’s changes of heart — and the film’s naïve idea of where everyone should be at the end — is another matter. That’s why screwball comedies didn’t try to upend capitalism, just have some clever fun with it and let a simple love story stick the landing. Ansari’s ambition is admirable but he’s better at diagnoses than solutions.

His gold-touch move is giving the hilariously deadpan Reeves one of his best roles in years: a goofy meme brought to disarming life and the movie’s beating heart. Doing good can be hard work; understanding humans is harder. Plus, Reeves makes eating a burger for the first time a sublimely funny reaffirmation that sometimes, indeed, it is a wonderful life.

If there’s a scene that best encapsulates the tragically abbreviated career of John Candy, it’s not necessarily from his time on the sketch-comedy series “SCTV” or from movies like “Stripes” or “Uncle Buck.” It’s a moment in the 1987 comedy-drama “Planes, Trains and Automobiles,” when his reluctant roommate Neal Page (played by Steve Martin) has spent several minutes berating him for his relentless storytelling.

With a lump in his throat, Candy’s wounded character Del Griffith replies that he’s proud of who he is. “I like me,” he says. “My wife likes me. My customers like me. Because I’m the real article — what you see is what you get.”

That moment proves pivotal to two new projects that retrace Candy’s life and work some 31 years after the actor died from a heart attack at the age of 43. The actor would have turned 75 this month.

A biography, “John Candy: A Life in Comedy,” written by Paul Myers (released by House of Anansi Press on Tuesday), and a documentary, “John Candy: I Like Me,” directed by Colin Hanks (released Friday on Prime Video), both rely on Candy’s friends, family members and colleagues to help tell the story of his ascent, his success and the void left by his death.

In their own ways, both the book and the film show how Candy — while not without his demons — was beloved by audiences for his fundamental and authentic likability, and why he is still mourned today for the potential he never got to completely fulfill.

A family photo of John Candy and his son, Chris, seen in “John Candy: I Like Me.” (Prime Video)

John Candy, left, and Steve Martin in “Planes, Trains and Automobiles.” (Paramount Pictures)

Explaining why it was still important to memorialize Candy all these years later, Ryan Reynolds, the “Deadpool” star and a producer of the documentary, said, “When it’s something people desperately miss, but they don’t know they miss it, it’s a beautiful and rare thing. John Candy is a person that they missed desperately.”

Since his death, Candy’s immediate survivors — his widow, Rosemary; daughter, Jennifer Candy-Sullivan; and son, Chris Candy — have weighed the pluses and minuses of sharing his life with audiences and the impact it might have on them (the three are co-executive producers on the film). “It’s a balancing act,” said Chris Candy. “You want to live your life and you also want to honor theirs.”

In recent years, Candy’s children said they were encouraged by documentaries like Morgan Neville’s “Won’t You Be My Neighbor?,” about the children’s TV broadcaster Fred Rogers, as well as Hanks’ film “All Things Must Pass,” about the Tower Records retail chain.

Hanks, whose father, Tom, acted with Candy in films like “Splash” and “Volunteers,” said he struggled at first to find a compelling way to tell the story of Candy, who had a seemingly charmed and uncontroversial acting career, first in his native Toronto and then in Hollywood.

But Hanks said he was drawn into Candy’s story by a particular detail: the fact that Candy’s own father, Sidney, had died from heart disease at the age of 35, right before John turned 5. “It doesn’t take much to think about how traumatic that could be for anyone at any age,” Hanks said.

Chris Candy, from left, Jennifer Candy-Sullivan and Colin Hanks, who directed the Prime Video documentary “John Candy: I Like Me.”

(Christina House / Los Angeles Times)

Myers, a musician and journalist who has written books about the band Barenaked Ladies and comedy troupe the Kids in the Hall, said he was drawn to Candy as a fellow Canadian and an embodiment of the national comedic spirit.

“If you’re Canadian like I am, you never stop thinking about John Candy,” Myers said. Growing up in the Toronto area, Myers said he and his siblings — including his brother Mike, the future “Shrek” and “Austin Powers” star — were avid fans of sketch comedy shows like “Monty Python’s Flying Circus” and “Saturday Night Live.”

But “SCTV,” which launched stars like Candy, Catherine O’Hara and Eugene Levy, meant even more to them. “We watched it from Day 1 and we cheered a little bit harder for them because it was like they were shooting the show blocks away from our house,” Myers said.

Reynolds, who was born and raised in Vancouver, said that Candy’s essential Canadian spirit was crucial to his success as a comic actor.

“In comedy, Canadians typically don’t punch down,” Reynolds said. “It’s more of a self-effacing humor. Their favorite target is themselves. And John did that. On screen, I felt his willingness and joy in self-effacing humor that never really veered into self-loathing humor.”

Ryan Reynolds at the Los Angeles screening of “I Like Me” earlier this month. The actor was a producer on the film.

(Todd Williamson / January Images)

Candy parlayed his repertoire of “SCTV” characters — satirical media personalities like Johnny LaRue and real-life celebrities like Orson Welles — into supporting parts in hit films like “National Lampoon’s Vacation,” “The Blues Brothers,” “Brewster’s Millions” and “Spaceballs.”

His penchants for drinking and smoking were well-known and hardly out of the ordinary for that era; they rarely impeded Candy’s work and, in at least one notable instance, seem to have enhanced it: Both the documentary and the biography recount how Candy indulged in a late-night bender with Jack Nicholson before rising the next morning to shoot a scene in “Splash” where his character fumbles, flails and smokes his way through a round of racquetball.

“That’s his work ethic, right there,” said Candy-Sullivan. “He showed up and he did the scene.”

Candy graduated to lead roles in comedies like “Summer Rental,” “The Great Outdoors” and “Who’s Harry Crumb?,” and he found a kindred spirit in the writer and director John Hughes, who helped provide Candy with some of his most enduring roles in movies like “Planes, Trains and Automobiles,” “Uncle Buck” and “Home Alone.”

But offscreen, Candy was contending with anxiety and he was sensitive to people’s judgments about his size — remarks which often came directly from TV interviewers who thought nothing of asking him point-blank whether Candy was planning to lose weight.

When he and his sister watched archival footage of these interviews in the documentary, Chris Candy said, “It was, for both of us, uncomfortable. I wasn’t familiar with what he was putting up with and how he would mentally jujitsu in and out of those conversations. He got more and more curt about it as time goes on, and you can see it in the interviews.”

But these psychic wounds didn’t make Candy a cruel or nasty person; he simply absorbed the hurt and redoubled his efforts to be a genial performer.

“If you’re looking for darkness in the story of John Candy, a lot of it’s just internalized pain,” Myers said. “His own coping mechanism was radical niceness to everybody — making human connections so that he would have community and feel like he’s making things better.”

In the early 1990s, Candy seemed to be working nonstop. He appeared in five different feature films in 1991 alone, a year that included duds like “Nothing But Trouble” as well as a small but potentially transformative role in Oliver Stone’s drama “JFK,” where he played the flamboyant attorney Dean Andrews Jr. He was preparing his own directorial debut, a TV film called “Hostage For a Day” in which he starred with George Wendt. Candy also became a co-owner and one-man pep squad for the Toronto Argonauts, the Canadian Football League team.

Eventually, the many demands and stresses in his life came to a head. Amid a grueling shoot for the western comedy “Wagons East” in Durango, Mexico, Candy died on March 4, 1994. He had a private funeral in the Los Angeles area, followed by a public memorial in Toronto that prompted a national outpouring of grief in Canada.

“He represented the best of us,” Myers said. “He was a humanity-centric person. He brought vulnerability and humility to his characters, which is not something you usually see in broad comedy.”

Candy’s films continue to play on television and streaming — both “Planes, Trains and Automobiles” and “Home Alone” have become year-end holiday staples. But for the people involved in chronicling Candy’s life, there is a creeping sense that the actor’s legacy will not tend to itself, and that the generations who did not grow up with Candy might need reminders of what made him worth remembering.

Hanks recalled a story from the making of “I Like Me” where he and some colleagues were dining at a restaurant where the hostess asked them what they were working on.

“We said we’re making a documentary,” Hanks said. “ ‘Oh, really?’ she goes. ‘Who’s it about?’ It’s about John Candy. She goes, ‘Oh, who’s that?’ No idea who it was. I said, well, have you seen ‘Home Alone’? Remember the polka guy that picks up the mom and takes her in the van? ‘Oh, I loved him. He’s great.’”

Part of his interest in making a film about Candy, Hanks said, is “wanting to showcase the man that people love and remind them why they loved them.”

But there is also the simple pleasure in introducing Candy’s work to people who haven’t seen it before. “If you’re lucky,” Hanks said, “you get to hopefully have them go, ‘God, I want to see those movies. I want to go watch ‘SCTV.’”

LIFE is better together – and that goes for your bank balance, too.

Buddying up can mean all sorts of savings, from everyday bills to days out.

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Here’s how to get a cash boost by sharing the love . . . 

REFERRALS: If you’ve had great service from a company, why not let your pals know?

Many firms will reward you if you refer someone as a new customer.

This is true for most utility providers, as well as credit card firms.

Even just referring a mate to cashback site TopCashback will net you £20.

So next time you’re telling someone about a great offer, check if you can get something for the recommendation.

Just make sure you get sign-ups through your own unique links or codes to get the reward.

BULK BUYS: If you’re buying tickets for an event, always try to buy with friends and then split the total between you.

This means that if there are booking fees you’ll only pay one between you.

Plus, many venues offer multi-ticket savings that are worth looking for.

For example, you can pay £24.50 to visit the Minecraft Experience in London, but this reduces to £18.50 each if there are seven or more tickets bought through a group bundle.

FRIEND FOR THE ROAD: Travelling can be expensive but you can ease the pressure with others in tow.

Ride app Uber easily allows you to add extra pick-ups on the way to a destination and divide the bill with contacts who also have an account.

If you have a pal who you frequently travel with, the Two Together railcard is £35 a year but gives you a third off off-peak fares when you travel together.

Or with GroupSave, groups of three or more adults can get a third off off-peak train fares when travelling together.

For regular journeys, such as to the office, why not ask work friends if they fancy lift sharing and you can take it in turns to drive.

You’ll save on petrol and get a little added company too.

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In Hollywood, something shifted in the six days between the time that Walt Disney Co. dropped “Jimmy Kimmel Live!” “indefinitely,” following Kimmel’s comments about the suspect in the shooting death of conservative activist Charlie Kirk, and the late-night comedian’s return.

For many, Kimmel’s rebound appears to be a win for free speech and a testament to the power of boycotts against powerful corporate interests. However, for other writers, particularly comedy scribes, who view the events that transpired in the darkest, most McCarthy-esque terms, the fight over comedy may have just begun.

“There’s fear and outrage at the same time,” said Emmy-winning comedy writer Bruce Vilanch, who for years was the head writer for the Oscars and “Hollywood Squares” and has written jokes for comics including Billy Crystal and Bette Midler.

“Ever since ‘woke’ started before COVID and George Floyd, comedy became a minefield. And then, last week, it became a nuclear garden,” he said.

Indeed, the day after Disney announced Kimmel’s return, President Trump told reporters that TV networks critical of him are an “arm of the Democrat Party,” and said, “I would think maybe their license should be taken away.” Angered that Kimmel was returning to the airwaves, he took to social media to threaten ABC and called for the late-night scalps of NBC’s Seth Meyers and Jimmy Fallon.

Such ominous threats have cast a pall in writers rooms across the industry.

One showrunner currently developing multiple series, who spoke on condition of anonymity, said that many of her colleagues have started to become more cautious about incorporating certain elements in their stories, something they didn’t do before. Others are having discussions privately rather than posting them on social media.

Several writers and showrunners who have worked on late-night shows, sitcoms and films declined to share their thoughts on the matter with The Times, citing fear of reprisals.

The cascade of anxiety comes at a time when Hollywood continues to struggle to get on solid footing after the pandemic lockdown, the dual labor strikes in 2023 and cost-cutting across the media landscape.

“Artists are already very concerned about our consolidated media ecosystem. A small shrinking number of gatekeepers control what Americans watch on TV, and these conglomerates are now being coerced into censoring us all by an administration that demands submission and obedience from what should be a free and independent media,” said television writer Meredith Stiehm, who is the outgoing president of Writers Guild of America West, during a rally in support of Kimmel outside the El Capitan Theatre last week.

“This cowardice has not only put the livelihoods of 20 writers, crew members and performers in limbo,” she said. “It has put our industry and our democracy in danger.”

Political satire has long held a mirror to human folly while challenging power with humor.

More than 2,400 years ago, Greek playwright Aristophanes’ biting, satirical comedies such as “Lysistrata” ridiculed Athens leaders during the Peloponnesian War. Many of the English nursery rhymes that are now viewed as sweet stories of princesses and fairies began appearing during the 14th century as veiled swipes at the monarchy. Rather than a lovely children’s melody, “Baa Baa Black Sheep” is said to be a critique of the wool tax imposed by King Edward I.

During the 1950s and 1960s, the brilliant satirical singer-songwriter (and mathematician) Tom Lehrer skewered taboo topics of the day such as the Catholic Church, militarism and racial conflict in America through parody songs.

In the early 1970s, George Carlin’s controversial monologue about the “Seven Words You Can Never Say on Television” set off a landmark Supreme Court case that broadened the definition of indecency on public airwaves and set a free speech precedent for comedians.

Every presidential campaign season has become must-see TV on “Saturday Night Live.” Think Dana Carvey’s George H.W. Bush, Phil Hartman’s Bill Clinton, Tina Fey’s Sarah Palin or Alec Baldwin’s Donald Trump.

But now the political climate has changed drastically.

“It’s a dark time for comedians and, by extension, for all Americans,” said a statement put out by hundreds of comedians under the banner Comedians4Kimmel in the wake of his ouster.

“When the government targets one of us, they target all of us. They strike at the heart of our shared humanity. They strip away the basic right every person deserves: to speak freely, question boldly, and laugh loudly.”

What’s different now is that where once market and cultural forces placed pressures on comedians — see Ellen DeGeneres and Roseanne Barr — the squeeze is now coming directly from the government. (Barr, who was fired from her eponymous reboot in 2018 after she made a racist tweet about senior Obama advisor Valerie Jarrett, has accused ABC of having a “double standard.”)

“That’s just called censorship,” said Vilanch. “This is the government actually intervening in the most capricious way.”

It’s not just late-night comedy that is deemed offensive, Trump has made public a rolling perceived enemies list, and he is going after them with vigor.

Just last week, former FBI Director James Comey was indicted, and Atty. Gen. Pam Bondi said that she would “absolutely target” people who engaged in “hate speech.”

This month, Trump sued the New York Times for $15 billion, claiming that the paper and four of its journalists had engaged in a “decades-long pattern … of intentional and malicious defamation.” A federal judge dismissed the suit. In July, he sued the Wall Street Journal and its owner, media mogul Rupert Murdoch, for $10 billion, claiming defamation. That suit is ongoing.

What’s deemed funny or offensive has shifted through the years. Comedy writers have long pushed that line and adjusted. But after the cultural wars and trigger warnings of recent years, where writers adapted to audience sensitivities, they are now facing an era where offending the president and his administration itself is considered illegal.

”So much was going on before,” said a veteran late-night TV writer. “It just feels like another brick in the wall of the world that I have worked in for the past 35 years no longer exists.”

The uproar over Kimmel began after the comedian seemed to suggest during his monologue that Tyler Robinson, the Utah man accused in the shooting death of Kirk, might have been a pro-Trump Republican.

Last Tuesday, after Kimmel came back on air with a defiant defense of free speech, several writers sighed a breath of relief, seeing his return as a victory.

“It would have been scary if this actually ended in his firing,” said the former late-night writer.

But the culture and free speech wars are not over.

“I think [comedy] will get sharper,” said Vilanch. “It will get sharper and probably meaner because people are angry, and they want to fight back. And that’s always what happens when you try and shut people down. They come back stronger.”

AN ICONIC Norwegian-style house featured in a TV show watched by millions – but do you recognise it?

Nestled in the picture postcard landscape of the Wye Valley in Hertfordshire, the wooden home appeared in a hit Netflix series.

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The Edwardian building features in Netflix’s high school comedy drama, Sex Education, which first aired in 2019.

It features prominently throughout the series and fans may have recognised it as the home of high schooler Otis Milburn and his mum Jean, played by Gillian Anderson.

The Scandinavian inspired property has room for 10 people and is located near the Forest of Dean with cycle trails and a river nearby for canoeing and fishing.

Fans will recognise certain rooms in the house from many of the scenes between Otis and Jean.

Built in 1912, it was initially used as a fishing lodge and also featured in Extraordinary Escapes on Channel 4.

With five bedrooms over three floors, the property has breathtaking panoramic views of the valley.

And the main bedroom can be found at the top of the house, spanning the entire floor.

As you approach the Norwegian-inspired home, you are immediately struck by it’s distinctive exterior.

It’s comprised of red wooden slats and white detailing amidst the expansive greenery on the slopes overlooking the River Wye.

It has a winding drive lined with trees leading up to a garage.

Viewers had the chance to own it in 2023 where it hit the market for an eye-watering £1.5 million.

It was renovated in 2002 that saw the conservatory dining room extended and a bespoke painted wood kitchen installed alongside a contemporary bathroom and shower rooms.

It was done in such a way that it blends effortlessly into the rest of the house.

Move outside and you’ll notice it’s beautiful gardens where there are steps that lead straight down to the river.

It also has a decked balcony where a Swedish hot back and stone pizza oven can be used as you take in the spectacular views.

The property’s 4.5 acres of land includes two greenhouses, a stone and tile outbuilding and an orchard.

It’s currently a private residence but fans used to be able to rent the whole house for £75 per person a night – but you can still admire its beauty from afar.

Other properties

There’s also this very famous house from an iconic 90s kids TV show that’s just hit the market for £1.1 million.

The property is located next to an breathtaking ocean view and was regularly featured in the Australian comedy drama.

And this breathtaking beachfront house featured in a beloved BBC drama

The stunning waterfront property on the Scottish west coast has picture postcard views of Loch Long and the Firth of Clyde.

Millions of Brits also grew up watching this iconic house on another beloved kids TV show.

If you need a clue, the character of Miss Hoolie lived in the property in the BBC series.

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ONE BATTLE AFTER ANOTHER

(15) 162mins

★★★★★

WHAT time is it? It is a question Leonardo DiCaprio’s stressed-out fugitive Bob Ferguson is asked over and over again in this black comedy.

Wearing a dressing gown and bad shades, Bob doesn’t have the answer because he’s too stoned to remember the code he was given by a left-wing terror group called the French 75.

But I can tell you that the time is absolutely right for One Battle After Another.

This is a political satire that skewers both the extreme right and the extreme left at a moment when both sides are to the fore in the real world in the United States.

The time is also well overdue for this piece of cinematic dynamite that will have you on the edge of your seat — from laughter or the high-octane action.

Directed by Paul Thomas Anderson, it is a work of genius that fuses the best elements of his films There Will Be Blood and Boogie Nights.

It begins 16 years ago with Bob helping to free refugees at a US border crossing.

During the raid his girlfriend, the wonderfully named Perfidia Beverly Hills (Teyana Taylor), orders Sean Penn’s military officer ­Steven J Lockjaw to “get up” his private parts.

The French 75’s increasingly reckless terrorism ends in a thrilling chase and Bob needing to go into hiding with the baby daughter he shares with Perfidia.

Most of the story is set in the current time, with Lockjaw coming after Bob and his daughter Willa.

As things get wilder, the audience is introduced to a bunch of incredible characters, including members of the white supremecist Christmas Adventurers Club, gun-toting nuns and Benecio Del Toro’s always-cool martial arts instructor Sergio.

The serene Del Toro is a perfect comic foil for the frantic DiCaprio who spends a lot of time running around shouting “f, f, f***.”

In one of the standout screwball moments, Sergio keeps repeating “four” as Bob is reluctant to jump out of his moving car like “Tom Cruise”. It is just one of many quotable lines.

But the most memorable scene brings the movie’s various plots to a perfect, heart-racing conclusion.

All of the cast are outstanding, with DiCaprio and newcomer Chase Infiniti as Willa most likely to be nominated for awards.

If there is any justice this film will get one Oscar after another.

GRANT ROLLINGS

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THE STRANGERS: CHAPTER 2

(15) 96mins

★★☆☆☆

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DIRRECTED by Renny Harlin, this second instalment in the Strangers trilogy is a bafflingly incoherent mess.

It picks up right after the events of Chapter 1, but instead of expanding on Bryan Bertino’s original 2008 home-invasion nightmare, it devolves into a clumsy blend of ­borrowed horror tropes held together by a barely coherent backstory.

Chapter 2 follows the survivor, Maya (Madelaine Petsch), as she is relentlessly pursued by masked killers in a sleepy American town.

Despite her injuries, Maya must find the strength to stay alive and tell the tale.

Petsch is committed to the physical demands of the role, fighting a CGI boar in a bafflingly out-of-place sequence.

However, the film’s drawn-out and repetitive cat-and-mouse chases become truly unbearable.

Narratively, the film is all over the place lurching from home-invasion suspense to slasher to survival horror.

The only thing that prevents it becoming a total farce is Harlin’s occasional use of a few inspired jump scares.

As a middle chapter, this feels like a placeholder for the next film.

LINDA MARRIC

DEAD OF WINTER

(15) 98mins

★★★☆☆

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IF you were casting for a Ramboesque heroine, Emma Thompson would not be the first name to spring to mind.

But in this rescue of a kidnap victim from a remote cabin thriller, it is the Love Actually actress displaying ingenious ways to survive.

Set in northern Minnesota in the US, Thompson’s Barb heads out in a snow storm to a lake that had a sentimental value to her recently deceased husband.

There she comes across a man who has tied up a young woman in his cellar.

Unable to go to get help, Barb vows to save the girl herself.

But the man is not her main concern, because it is a gun-toting woman played by Judy Greer who is the one with the least to lose by fighting to the bitter end.

Thompson is remarkably good when Barb is stitching up a bullet wound in her arm with fishing wire, and the attention to detail in the sets also impresses.

But choosing her isn’t enough to make this last- person-standing drama feel particularly original.

Like the tracks that Barb leaves in the snow, you know where most of the plot turns lead.

GRANT ROLLINGS

Inside L.A. restaurant Jaragua, on a recent Friday night, Justin Alexio moved with a measured urgency from the backroom to the front of the restaurant without disturbing anyone’s dinner. The comic, producer and creator of the Los Angeles-based comedy show, Pupusas and Punchlines, Alexio escorted guests to their tables, switched on the microphones placed around the room, and pointed a camera to the center stage before the show was to begin.

The dining area inside the Salvadoran restaurant is rather quiet for a Friday night; there’s a soccer game playing on TV as a family of six places an order for dinner. As people in the audience spread their curtido, or pickled cabbage and carrots, on their pupusas, others await for their food with anticipation, while some choose to stick to drinks. The room is filled with distractions, but comedians are not fazed — it is a welcoming atmosphere, and they know that soon the sounds of laughter will fill the air.

“I feel like eating is such a large part of Latin culture and most cultures,” Alexio said. “I wanted a place where you can eat Latin food and listen to Latin jokes.”

In the wake of the COVID-19 pandemic, independent comedy shows had almost become a thing of the past in L.A. Not to mention that finding gigs is a difficult task, especially for Latinx comedians; according to Alexio, most comedy rooms don’t want to book more than one Latinx comedian.

Pupusas and Punchlines offers a place where they can perform in front of a packed room and joke about the immigrant experience in the U.S. — and the absurdities of the American dream in 2025 — while sharing a delicious meal.

Pupusas and Punchlines producer and creator Justin Alexio performs on March 7, 2025.

(Drew Steres)

Alexio said he started the show in 2023, after he took a long break from stand-up comedy, to instead pursue acting full time. His résumé includes appearances on NBC’s comedy series “Superstore” and ABC’s late-night show “Jimmy Kimmel Live!”

“The future of entertainment has to be more real,” he said of his decision to return to the stage. “Stand-up is live.”

The L.A. stand-up scene is quite competitive — especially for Alexio, who is an Afro-Latino of Puerto Rican, Dominican and Ecuadorian descent. As an answer to the marginalization of Black and brown people in mainstream comedy, Alexio said he decided to produce his own show, with hopes to highlight other Latinx performers as well.

Since then, he has expanded “Pupusas and Punchlines” immensely — from performing only once a month at half-capacity to selling out 115 consecutive weekly shows.

Alexio attributed the show’s success to the high-quality comedians he’s booked, as well as the food and the feeling of community it has created. People have told him they’ve driven more than an hour just for the show, while others have attended on multiple occasions.

“They want to support me and the show, they want to support the restaurant, they want to support the Latin comics … The crowd feels like they want to help these comics rise,” he said.

Patrons laugh at Pupusas and Punchlines on May 16, 2025.

(Drew Steres)

The majority of the comics Alexio books are Latinx, but he also includes performers who belong to other underrepresented groups. He showcases upcoming comics while providing clips to help grow their social media presence. After performing on his show, he said, comics have noted an uptick of new followers on social media.

Onstage at Friday’s show, comics pulled humor from topics related to immigration, religion, salsa, sexuality and other typical first-generation immigrant dilemmas. Performers feel like they can discuss topics they usually can’t perform in front of a more general club audience.

“I think any ethnicity in an ethnic crowd always thrive,” said comic Gregory Santos. “Obviously you can be a white boy and do a really good job here. I feel like it’s just an extra layer of stuff that you can talk about.”

Daisy Roxx performs at Pupusas and Punchlines in March.

(Drew Steres)

Pupusas and Punchlines is one of the few shows that caters toward the Latinx community, said comedian Rell Battle, as he rattled off a list of shows that sadly don’t exist anymore.

“Ironically, in a majority Latin city, there aren’t [many] consistent Latin shows,” Battle said. He described Pupusas and Punchlines as a road show of sorts — scored by genuine laughter. The audience members feel more appreciative, compared to a run-of-the-mill comedy club in Hollywood that caters more to tourists.

“People that come out to shows in Hollywood will ask me to hold the camera and take a picture of them,” Battle joked.

The crowd at Pupusas and Punchlines is not one to dismiss or antagonize comics that are not Latinx. Yet audience members would gladly correct any comic who’d assume the restaurant was Mexican, or mispronounce the word “pupusas,” as Battle sheepishly recalled during his own set. At the end of the day, they usually bond with comics over what they share in common: the drive to make it in L.A.

“When the neighborhood shows up, those are the best shows,” said Santos, between sets at Jaragua. “It’s normal people, it’s everyday neighborhood L.A. people.”

For more information on upcoming events, visit Pupusas and Punchlines on Instagram.

The abrupt suspension of comedian Jimmy Kimmel’s late-night show on ABC might seem like the least of our worries amid the shuttering of government agencies, the collapse of congressional checks on executive power and bands of ICE agents detaining people on the basis of race or language. But humor matters.

While the news media is sometimes referred to as the fourth estate, alongside the executive, legislative and judicial branches of government, few think of stand-up comedy as a pillar of democracy. But jokes allow a society to mock itself, spotlight uncomfortable truths, bridge differences and say what cannot otherwise be said. Humor is a crucial bulwark of a free society. To play that role, comedians need the leeway to embarrass, provoke and take risks, sometimes crossing the line into offense.

In the wake of Kimmel’s suspension it is hard to imagine any mass market humorist poking fun with abandon that biting satire demands. One of the most powerful salves for people under stress, and a particular lifeline during the Trump era, is the ability to laugh at the ridiculous or unfathomable. Lowering a curtain on comedy will not only dim one of our country’s most treasured cultural forms, but also accelerate the dark turn of American democracy.

Dating back to pre-revolutionary times, political satire has been a mainstay of American culture. Rebellious colonists skewered British taxation policies, military blunders and parliamentary pomposities through plays, songs and cartoons that rallied others to the cause of independence and made mass mobilization fun. Benjamin Franklin’s 1773 “Rules by Which a Great Empire May Be Reduced to a Small One” used irony to lampoon British policy, undermining authority while avoiding direct flouting of the era’s harsh sedition laws. The juxtaposition of a lighthearted format with a pointed commentary has marked America’s comedic tradition ever since, encompassing literary humorists such as Mark Twain and Edgar Allan Poe, satirical magazines like Puck and MAD, political cartooning, vaudeville, radio satire, stand-up and the late-night juggernauts of variety shows, talk shows and, since 1975, “Saturday Night Live.”

While our 1st Amendment tradition has mostly protected satire over the years, it hasn’t prevented heavy-handed politicians from occasionally trying to silence their comedic critics. When Thomas Nast, known as the father of American political cartooning, took on New York City’s Boss Tweed and his Tammany Hall political machine in the 1870s, Tweed reportedly said: “Let’s stop those damned pictures. I don’t care so much what the papers write about me — my constituents can’t read, but damn it, they can see pictures.” But Nast kept up a furious pace of cartooning, hastening Tweed’s downfall on corruption charges.

Charlie Chaplin’s satire of capitalism and authoritarianism in films including “Modern Times” and “The Great Dictator,” alongside his outspoken politics and alleged communist ties, drew FBI surveillance. In 1952 his re-entry permit to the U.S. was revoked, effectively exiling him for nearly 20 years.

Around the world, autocrats have recognized the power of comedians to puncture preferred narratives, undermine authority and stoke dissent. The Nazi regime’s Reichskulturkammer, or chamber of culture, tightly censored cabaret and comedy. Cabaret performer Werner Finck opened a club in 1929 and dared Gestapo members in the audience to write down his every word. Propaganda Minister Joseph Goebbels ordered the venue shuttered in 1935 and sent Finck and his colleagues to a six-week stint in a concentration camp. In the Soviet Union, jokes about Joseph Stalin or the Communist Party were treated as serious crimes against the state, warranting time in the gulag.

In the age of international television and social media the potency, and the perceived threat, of comedy has only grown. Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky built national stature as a television satirist playing a fictional president. His predecessor’s government, which did all it could to derail its political opponents, did not see Zelensky coming; until it happened, few imagined his leap from sound stage to presidential podium. In 2013 the Cairo government issued an arrest warrant for television comic Bassem Youssef, known as the Jon Stewart of Egypt, for jokes about President Mohamed Morsi and Islam. He was hounded into exile and has lived in the U.S. for the last decade.

In an increasingly polarized America, the place of comedy has been under attack from all sides. A decade ago Jerry Seinfeld said he would no longer do shows on college campuses because of ferocious politically correct backlash against his jokes. In 2019 the New York Times announced it would no longer publish political cartoons after apologizing for an antisemitic caricature of Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu. This year the White House Correspondents’ Dinner canceled a planned appearance by comedian Amber Ruffin, the latest in a series of kerfuffles over controversial emcees of that event. The rising cost of reprisals, in the form of offended constituencies, online outrage and direct threats, is increasingly rendering humor too hot to handle.

The public threats issued by Federal Communications Commission Chair Brendan Carr against Kimmel and ABC, based upon comments by the comedian that were neither incendiary nor menacing, marks a sharp escalation in the battle against humor. The immediate capitulation of Disney, one of America’s largest and most revered corporations, is a shocking sign of just how quickly private, independent institutions are melting down under heated threat by a vindictive administration. If a comedian as mainstream as Jimmy Kimmel is not safe from silencing, it is hard to imagine who is.

In helping audiences understand what is happening around them and reckon with their fears, comedy is both a collective coping mechanism and a catalyst for unfettered, clear-eyed thought. Autocrats around the world understand this.

Suzanne Nossel is a senior fellow for U.S. foreign policy and international order at the Chicago Council on Global Affairs and the author of “Dare to Speak: Defending Free Speech for All.”

Far be it from me to tell anyone how to direct their career, but can I just say how glad I am to learn that Jason Bateman, who spent four seasons in the darkness of “Ozark,” is making a comedy again. (A “dark comedy,” but still.) That’s not the series he’s starring in at the moment for Netflix, however, but something called “DTF St. Louis,” for HBO, from “Patriot” creator Steve Conrad, which isn’t arriving until next year. Fingers crossed, we’ll all be around to see it.

In the eight-episode miniseries “Black Rabbit,” which premieres Thursday, Bateman and Jude Law play brothers Vince and Jake Friedkin, respectively, who long before the story begins were partners in a rock band, the Black Rabbits — successful enough that Vince is recognized in a bar (but not so successful that the fans can remember his name, or the name of the band). More recently, they had been partners in a far downtown Manhattan restaurant, also called Black Rabbit, though Vince’s level of current participation is muddy. (At one time, he ran the upstairs bar.) It isn’t a comedy, in spite of Vince’s Michael Bluth-like habit of dropping ironic quips into stressful situations.

The setting brings to mind “The Bear” — which is a comedy — as does its young genius chef, Roxie (Amaka Okafor); the New York Times is planning a review and New York magazine is putting her on the cover. We see that the restaurant, which has a VIP floor upstairs for horrible rich jerks, is a hit because the place is packed, and because there’s a lot of shouting in the barely pictured kitchen, but food, barely shown or talked about, is not really on the menu here. Jake is more interested in property and expansion — he has an inside track to lease the Pool Room, a real-life space in New York’s fabled Four Seasons Hotel, and he wants Roxie to run the kitchen and Estelle (Cleopatra Coleman), who is in a relationship with his old friend Wes (Ṣọpẹ́ Dìrísù) — now a mega successful musician, a co-owner of the Black Rabbit and a jealous guy — to design it. From camera angles and cutting, it’s clear that Vince and Estelle are attracted to one another, but as Law and Coleman have no particular chemistry, it feels more stated than felt. But it’s important.

Ṣọpẹ́ Dìrísù as Wes, a co-owner of the Black Rabbit, and Amaka Okafor as Roxie, the head chef.

(Netflix)

Vince, meanwhile, is living out west, looking like he’s ready to audition for a late-life Dennis Wilson biopic and trying to sell some valuable old coins. When he’s set up and robbed in his car, he winds up running over one of the thieves — twice. Whether by writerly intention or inattention, this will be no more of an emotional issue for Vince than it will have anything to do with the rest of the story, apart from sending him back to NYC, where he is $140,000 in the hole over gambling debts. Whenever he’s not in actual danger (which is a lot of the time), he’s weirdly happy-go-lucky.

Jake has a well-to-do ex-wife, Val (Dagmara Dominczyk), who seems nice, and a son, Hunter (Michael Cash), taking dancing lessons. They all get along fine, though Jake battles that most common of TV paternal ailments, Busy Dad Syndrome. (He does better than most.) Vince has an adult daughter, tattoo artist Gen (Odessa Young), who is not especially glad to see him back in town. Their safety will become a chip in the series’ central business, which sets Vince, and ultimately Jake, against vaguely defined mobster Joe Mancuso (Oscar-winning deaf actor Troy Kotsur, from the film “CODA,” in one of the series’ more layered performances); his sweaty idiot caricature of a wannabe tough guy son, Junior (Forrest Weber); and Junior’s less-than-efficient minder, Babbitt (Chris Coy), who is occasionally sort of likable, albeit one feels bad for sort of liking him. In the small world these characters inhabit, Mancuso was close to the brothers’ dysfunctional family back in Coney Island. But business is business.

Like most every streaming drama nowadays, “Black Rabbit” opens with a flash forward to a more exciting part of the story — here, a robbery and shooting at a crowded party — before dialing back to a calmer chronological beginning. This lets the viewer know that, though there is going to be exposition for a while, things will get crazy eventually. And they very much do, including sexual assault, murder and bad management.

Junior (Forrest Weber), Babbitt (Chris Coy) and Vince (Jason Bateman), who owes them lots of money.

(Netflix)

Jake, chasing his Pool Room dream, has his own money troubles, and the brothers’ needs will clash as one scheme after another to set things right goes wrong and their relationship rockets between heated arguments and brotherly reminiscence. It’s too easy to stop listening to the arguments, which tend to go long and not lead anywhere, but there is some relief (and nice writing) as regards the reminiscence. Still, though later episodes will reveal an early event that might explain something about Vince, it’s not enough to make one care especially what happens to them, except to worry which innocent bystanders, including the Black Rabbit staff, will be hit by shrapnel when things go boom.

A large secondary and sometimes confusing cast comes in and out to propel and complicate matters, but it’s really all about the brothers. As Vince, Bateman — who also directed the first two episodes, efficiently, with “Ozark” co-star Laura Linney helming the second two — leavens an exasperating character with his innate likability. He’s a fine actor, but he’s also Jason Bateman, America’s sweetheart. By contrast, as the tense, excitable Jake, Law doesn’t generate much warmth, or make you believe he’s actually capable of opening a high-class midtown restaurant. (The funky but chic Black Rabbit was Vince’s vision.) That may be the idea, of course. And he does love his brother.

There are only so many ways this story can go, and it does indeed go to one of them, though it’s so likely by the time we get there that it doesn’t deliver much of an emotional charge. An epilogical montage, in a complete tonal turnaround, plays like an homage to the opening of Woody Allen’s “Manhattan,” cut to Rodgers and Hart’s “I’ll Take Manhattan”; its only purpose seems to be to make you less bad than you might have otherwise felt. (Hey, Katz’s Delicatessen!) So … thanks?

Meanwhile — “DTF St. Louis!” See you next year! Knock wood.

“Eureka Day,” a comedy by Jonathan Spector that wades into the debate on vaccine mandates, has only become more explosively topical since its 2018 premiere at Aurora Theatre Company, in Berkeley, Calif.

The play, which is having its Los Angeles premiere at Pasadena Playhouse, seems like it could have been commissioned to skewer this destructive, benighted and completely mortifying anti-science moment. But Spector wrote the work before the COVID-19 pandemic unleashed our political demons and made stupid great again.

“Eureka Day” takes its name from the fictional private elementary school in Berkeley that is the setting for what is both a satire of anti-vaccine culture and a comedy of woke manners. Held in a determinedly cheerful Bay Area classroom (brightly summoned with all the necessary social justice touches by set designer Wilson Chin), the play unfolds as a series of meetings of the school’s executive committee.

Don (Rick Holmes), the head of school, is ostensibly in charge, though his duck-and-cover strategy for dealing with conflict has a way of protracting problems. Four parents, one a newcomer still acclimating to the school’s strenuously progressive rules, are part of the executive brain trust.

The first discussion of the new school year is relatively innocuous though no less testing for being so. Eli (Nate Corddry), a stay-at-home dad who made a fortune at Facebook, has proposed adding “Transracial Adoptee” to a drop-down menu on an admissions form already burgeoning with identity subcategories.

Suzanne (Mia Barron), a mother who has sent so many children through Eureka Day that she has a proprietary attitude about the place, doesn’t think this additional category is necessary. She’s sensitive — self-consciously so — to Eli’s good intentions, but she persuades the group that no changes are necessary at this time.

“Persuades” might be a euphemism. Suzanne has an iron will that she thinly veils with a solicitous smile.

One of the quirks of the executive committee is that it operates by consensus rather than a majority vote. This can lead to some “very long meetings,” Suzanne informs Carina (Cherise Boothe), the new Black lesbian mom who recently moved from Maryland.

Suzanne claims to want everyone to feel “empowered,” though her controlling temperament pokes through her welcoming facade. Meiko (Camille Chen), who knits during meetings with a subtle air of annoyance, has to loudly ask Suzanne to please stop speaking on her behalf.

Cherise Boothe in “Eureka Day” at Pasadena Playhouse.

(Jeff Lorch)

These blind spots, a standard ingredient of comic characters, are particularly glaring in Suzanne’s case. When Carina tells her that she didn’t homeschool her son for kindergarten but sent him to public school, Suzanne is mildly horrified. She also makes the assumption that Carina is not a “full pay” family.

There’s even something passive-aggressive about Suzanne’s show of concern for all viewpoints, a trait that becomes all the more conspicuous after a crisis erupts at the school. A mumps outbreak forces Eureka Day to temporarily close its doors.

Don informs the executive committee that the health department has issued a letter stipulating what parents must do for their child to return to school. The subject isn’t open for debate, but Suzanne is uneasy about how this letter is being “framed.”

She’s an advocate of parental choice when it comes to vaccines, not trusting the experts who have determined that only children who are vaccinated can return to school when there’s a risk of infection. She believes vaccines stand in the way of natural herd immunity.

Mia Barron, left, Rick Holmes, Cherise Boothe, and Camille Chen in “Eureka Day” at Pasadena Playhouse.

(Jeff Lorch)

Meiko is less vociferous in her anti-vaccine stance than Suzanne, but she has her own skepticism about modern medicine and doesn’t want to be told what to do. When her daughter develops mumps, it becomes an emergency for Eli, who’s been having an affair with Meiko. The two arrange their assignations around playdates, and their kids were recently in contact.

Eli, who’s married but in a complicated open relationship situation with his increasingly resentful wife, would rather not have to choose sides in the vaccine mandate debate. But when his son gets sick after spending time with Meiko’s unvaccinated daughter, he finds he can no longer stay on the fence.

The well-programmed comedy hilariously runs its course in the leadership vacuum created by the school’s over-accommodating culture. Don is so worried about seeming to favor one parental faction over another that he allows Suzanne to become the dominant voice in the room.

The production, directed by Teddy Bergman, has a field day with the woke-run-amok ethos of Eureka Day, where kids at the school cheer the other team’s goals at soccer games. But Bergman’s approach is more schematic than Anna D. Shapiro’s Tony-winning Broadway revival.

Perhaps the urgency of the moment calls for a clearer moral stand, but the comedy has lost some nuance. On Broadway, Jessica Hecht made Suzanne seem totally oblivious to her own rage. She really believed that she was seeking consensus, tolerant of all perspectives as long as they didn’t impinge on her beliefs, the origins of which are poignantly related later in the play.

The fury of Barron’s Suzanne is much more on the surface. The humor is more direct — Barron can be very funny — but the debate is less trenchant. Bergman’s production, marred by blasts of jarring folk music between scene transitions, is a little too on the nose.

Boothe’s Carina, by far the strongest performance in the cast, is our rational surrogate in the play — a parent trying to fit in without betraying her intelligence or child’s welfare. I appreciated the way Holmes lets us come to our own conclusions about Don’s go-along-to-get-along style of running the ship.

Meiko is woefully underwritten, and Chen’s performance, while amusing when Meiko erupts, sometimes seems disconnected. Corddry refuses to play a tech industry cliché, but Eli, a bland creep, comes off as unnecessarily vague.

Bergman has trouble locating that sweet spot between jokey exaggeration and multidimensional authenticity. Comedy trades in types, but the cast could have benefited from more fine-tuning.

Perhaps that’s why the funniest scene in the play involves the live chat portion of a virtual meeting that’s organized for Eureka Day parents alarmed about the quarantine situation. Avatars square off against one another in a vaccine debate free-for-all that puts the lie to the school’s “community of respect” motto with uncensored savagery punctuated by missile-like emoticons.

“Eureka Day” will make you laugh, but how much this production will make you think is an open question.

There were two questions the 77th Emmy Awards, held Sunday night at the Peacock Theater in downtown Los Angeles, had to answer, other than who would win what. (It’s an honor just to be nominated.)

One was how the show, a glittery evening devoted to the most popular of popular arts, would play against a world gone mad. The other, not distinct from the first, was how first-time host Nate Bargatze would do.

The ceremony is hosted by a round robin of the major networks, and this year the honor fell to CBS, whose corporate overlord, Paramount, has come to represent capitulation to the Trump administration, settling a baseless lawsuit in what is widely viewed as a payoff to grease the wheels of its merger with Skydance and promising to eliminate its DEI protocols. Executive interference in the news department amid an apparent rightward turn has led to the resignations of “60 Minutes” producer Bill Owens and CBS News President and CEO Wendy McMahon. And there’s the cancellation of Stephen Colbert’s “Late Show,” the timing of which some have found suspicious.

But if your goal was to avoid insulted celebrities, social media outrage or petulant notes from the White House, you could have done no better than to hire Bargatze, a clean, calm, classical, noncontroversial, nonpolitical, very funny, very successful comedian. Bargatze, who has been in comedy since 2002, saw his career explode over the last few years; his appeal is not so much mainstream, which is to say soft-edged, as it is broad — something for everybody.

The show opened quite brilliantly — perhaps confusingly, if you had missed Bargatze’s “Washington’s Dream” sketches on “Saturday Night Live” on which the routine was closely modeled, including the presence of Mikey Day, Bowen Yang and James Austin Johnson — with the host as Philo T. Farnsworth, “the inventor of television,” foreseeing the medium’s less than sensible future. First presenter Stephen Colbert followed immediately to a standing ovation and chants of his name. “While I have your attention, is anyone hiring? I have 200 very qualified candidates with me tonight who will be available in June.”

Emmys host Nate Bargatze, right, and Bowen Yang appear in an opening sketch at the 77th Primetime Emmy Awards at the Peacock Theater in Los Angeles on Sunday.

(Myung J. Chun / Los Angeles Times)

Then the host introduced his much publicized, one would say quintessentially Bargatzean, gimmick. To keep acceptance speeches short, he would donate $100,000 to the Boys & Girls Clubs of America; $1,000 per second would be deducted for anyone going over the allotted 45 seconds. Money would be added to the pot for anyone running short. (J.B. Smoove, a former Boys Club member, was a sort of co-sponsor, in the audience with a young boy and girl.) This efficiency made professional sense, though it had the potential to put a lid on what is usually the most interesting, unruly, moving, unpredictable part of the show. (If anyone had thought for a second, it also spelled trouble: Try talking for what you imagine is 45 seconds. You will be wrong.)

As it happened, the state of the world was addressed, sidelong and directly. Presenter Julianne Nicholson said of living in a post-apocalyptic bunker in “Paradise,” “compared to headlines that’s positively feel-good TV.” Jeff Hiller, winning supporting actor in a comedy series for “Somebody Somewhere,” thanked the Duplass brothers “for writing a show of connection and love in this time when compassion is seen as a weakness.” “Last Week Tonight” senior writer Daniel O’Brien dedicated their second award to “all writers of political comedy while that is still a type of show that is allowed to exist.” And in a generational echo of their “Hacks” characters, fourth-time winner Jean Smart (who has won seven Emmys overall) ended her acceptance speech saying, “Let’s be good to each other, just be good to each other,” while co-star and first-time winner Hannah Einbinder, finished with, “I just want to say: Go Birds, f— ICE, and free Palestine.” Going way over the 45-second limit, she promised to pay the difference on the tote board.

Hannah Einbinder accepts the award for supporting actress in a comedy series for “Hacks” during the show at the 77th Primetime Emmy Awards at the Peacock Theater in Los Angeles on Sunday.

(Myung J. Chun / Los Angeles Times)

After Einbeinder, the most direct acknowledgment of current bad events came from Academy Chair and CEO Cris Abrego, speaking of the Governors Award given the week before to the Corp. for Public Broadcasting. In a highly quotable speech, he noted how “Congress had voted to defund it and silence yet another cultural institution.” He continued, “In a time when division dominates the headlines, storytelling still has the power to unite us … In times of cultural regression [it reminds] us what’s at stake and what can still be achieved,” and he rattled off a number of much loved shows that challenged the status quo. “In a moment like this, neutrality is not enough. … Culture does not come from the top down, it rises from the bottom up. … Let’s make sure that culture is not a platform for the privileged but a public good for all.” The stars in the audience nodded approvingly.

There were also some pure delights among the bedrock of desultory scripted banter and unimpressive tributes to old shows (“Law & Order: SUV,” “The Golden Girls”). Reunited “Everybody Loves Raymond” co-stars Ray Romano and Brad Garrett, presenting the award for comedy series, recaptured the essence of their television brotherhood. Jennifer Coolidge, presenting the award for lead supporting actress in a comedy, sounded like she’d walked in from a Christopher Guest film. “Between us, I was actually hoping to be nominated for you tonight for my work on this season of ‘The Pitt.’ I played a horny grandmother having a colonoscopy during a power outage and I had to play a lot of levels. I even had to do my own prep.” She went on, after a while, to tell the nominees that winning “is not all it’s cracked up to be. It’s really not… I thought I had gotten really close with my fellow nominees especially after I won but I’m pretty sure they removed me from the group chat.”

The inevitable losses incurred by Bargatze’s charity gimmick provided a sort of running joke at the host’s expense, which he managed quite well, while some winners made a game of trying to put money back on the board. But the longer it went on, the more pressure it put on the winners to be short. Eventually, the show found its natural level, as winners said what they needed to, or much of it, and the count dropped tens of thousands of dollars past zero. For everyone but the bean counters, the least important thing about an awards show is it running on time; in any case, it was only a few minutes over.

And, as one might have expected, Bargatze — who made it through the three hours in a way that served the event and his own down-home ethos — paid the originally promised $100,000 and added a $250,000 tip.

JON Richardson’s future on Waterloo Road has been confirmed after Jason Manford quit the show after just one series.

The comedy star announced he was joining the show after an April Fools prank claiming he was retiring from comedy to become a teacher.

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He soon announced that was he was actually joining the cast of the school-set drama.

And now The Sun can exclusively reveal that he won’t be a one-series wonder like Jason who bowed out after his first year.

A source said: “There were worries by some that after Jason’s one series stint that Jon would follow suit but that’s not the case.

“He’ll be sticking around for the foreseeable and is really enjoying acting now.”

The star will play the school’s new media studies teacher, Darius Donovan. 

The BBC blurb teases: “With tons of charm, this new teacher knows how to put on a good show, and viewers can expect his arrival to stir things up at Waterloo Road.”

Last year Jon and ex-wife Lucy Beaumont announced their split.

Jon and Lucy tied the knot in 2015 after two years of dating.

The two share one daughter Elsie Louise, eight.

In April last year they announced that they had gone their separate ways.

A statement shared by PA news agency said: “After 9 years of marriage, we would like to announce that we have separated.

“We have jointly and amicably made the difficult decision to divorce and go our separate ways.

“As our only priority is managing this difficult transition for our daughter, we would ask that our privacy is respected at this sensitive time to protect her well-being.

“We will be making no further comment.”

Waterloo Road will return to BBC One and iPlayer on Tuesday September 23.

Tragedy and comedy make freaky bedfellows in “Oedipus the King, Mama!” This latest romp from Troubadour Theater Company turns the Getty Villa’s annual outdoor theater production into a Freudian carnival of psychosexual madness.

In “Lizastrata,” the troupe’s 2021 Getty Villa production, Aristophanes’ “Lysistrata,” the old political comedy in which women declare a sex strike to stop a ruinous war, and that singular showbiz sensation, Liza Minnelli, were merrily united in a lampoon with Bob Fosse flourishes. Here, Sophocles’ “Oedipus the King” and Elvis, the King of Rock ’n’ Roll, are brought together for an equally madcap if less artfully composed mashup.

The Elvis that storms into this ancient land known as Malibu is long past his prime. As impersonated by Matt Walker, the company’s director and comic frontman, he makes the late-career Las Vegas singer look like a spring chicken. Wearing a white jumpsuit adorned with rhinestones and a wig that looks as if some woodland creature had nested on his head, Walker’s Elvis has a bowlegged gait that suggests either a cumbersome protuberance or the early stages of rigor mortis.

There’s a younger version of the character, played by Steven Booth in a cartoon muscle suit and a tunic that makes it easy to flash the audience. But this exhibitionistic Oedipus is the star of the show’s unnecessary preface, a belabored warmup act that should have been cut in rehearsals.

The show feels overextended, as if 45-minutes of comic material had been inflated to fill out a 90-minute slot. The company’s commedia dell’arte-style shenanigans have a natural elasticity but farcical lunacy snaps when stretched too far.

The references to Southern California are unfailingly funny (this Oedipus claims to have started out as the crown prince of Temecula). But there’s something tired about an Elvis parody. The pompadour gag has lost its cultural shelf life. For the TikTok generation, it might as well be Thomas Jefferson who’s crooning “Hound Dog.”

The music still instantly captivates, even if whole swaths of the audience won’t be familiar with the original songs, impudently rewritten for the occasion. A version of “All Shook Up” is brilliantly deployed just as Oedipus is told the truth of his identity by Teiresias (Mike Sulprizio, outfitted to make the blind prophet look like a rejected member of the “Harry Potter” universe.)

How could any son not be shaken to the core after discovering that he not only killed his father but married his mother and sired his own siblings! That’s a lot to take in, as the cast routinely jokes. But denial buys time for a protagonist who’s too busy acting out his Oedipal fantasies to grapple with difficult realities.

The cast of “Oedipus the King, Mama!” at the Getty Villa.

(Craig Schwartz / J. Paul Getty Trust)

The object of Oedipus’ stunted affection is Jocasta (played by Beth Kennedy in a Priscilla Presley wig and the manner of a Southern ex-showgirl turned cougar). Kennedy not only steals the show but comes close to saving it. The comedy isn’t afraid to go low — poor mixed-up Oedipus isn’t yet fully weaned — but Kennedy’s Jocasta never loses her audacious, sexy-mama vivacity.

Rick Batalla, who plays Creon (pronounced crayon here), Oedipus’ straight-shooting brother-in-law, is another standout, eager to show off his own impish Elvis moves. The musical numbers are more elaborate than karaoke acts, but the volume is contained in deference to the Getty Villa’s neighbors, draining the staging of some of its theatrical power.

Scenically, the costumes of Sharon McGunigle and the puppet and prop design of Matt Scott do the heavy lifting. Walker’s direction has a grab-bag aspect, as if the invitation from the Getty Villa came too late to smoothly integrate all the moving parts.

Walker makes a jokey aside to that effect at the start of “Oedipus the King, Mama!” But no one’s complaining. The Getty Villa survived the fires and it can survive this jovial, if half-baked, Sophoclean circus. Levity is what’s needed now, and the Troubies are still funnier than anything AI could come up with, even if the joke is that ChatGPT had a hand in the script.

TV STAR Jimmy Fallon, 50, has given fans an insight into his family life and shared a rare photo with wife Nancy Juvonen, 58, and their daughters.

The Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon host posted the adorable picture on social media alongside his wife and their girls Winnie, 12, and Frances, 10.

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The family-of-four can be seen enjoying a lakeside getaway in the fun snap on their holiday wearing casual summer gear.

Comedian Fallon and his loved ones threw their arms in the air and struck some comedy poses in the playful shot.

His partner Juvonen flashed a peace sign and wrapped an arm around her daughter, wearing a pastel cross-over stripped dress.

“This is before my sister-in-law said, ‘a little less,’” Fallon joked in his caption.

Famous friends commented on the cute photo with a string of heart emojis, including Camila Cabello, Paris Hilton, while Ellen DeGeneres liked the snap.

Fans praised: “Beautiful family.”

A second added: “Awesome family post!”

A third agreed: “Such a joy to see a happy and loved Jimmy’s family.”

When Fallon is not in the studio, he can often be found at home, spending time with his wife, Nancy and Frances and Winnie.

The stand-up comedian, television host, actor, writer, and singer was born on September 19, 1974, in Bay Ridge, New York.

He first gained recognition as a cast member on Saturday Night Live but later became a household name in 2014 after taking over The Tonight Show following Jay Leno’s departure.

Fallon’s extensive career in the entertainment industry has helped him amass a $70 million fortune, according to Celebrity Net Worth.

He has also written several books and two comedy albums.

In 1998, he joined the cast of Saturday Night Live and remained there until 2004.

Jimmy’s big break came in 2009 when he landed his own talk show, Late Night With Jimmy Fallon.

In May last year The Tonight Show aired a special two-hour program to celebrate Fallon’s 10th anniversary on the show.

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Ted Lasso fans are going wild as one of the show’s biggest stars is taking on a brand new role that’s worlds away from the plucky football comedy

Ted Lasso star Brett Goldstein is nothing like his iconic grumpy footballer Roy Kent in a heartwrenching trailer for an upcoming sci-fi drama film.

Helmed by one of the directors of Black Mirror, William Bridges, who co-wrote the film with Goldstein, All Of You is led by the star opposite Imogen Poots in a decades-spanning romance for the ages.

Set in the not-so-distant future, the AppleTV+ film follows two best friends from college who drift apart when one of them takes a test that promises to find your soulmate.

Their lives still cross over the years and they’re forced to confront their unspoken feelings.

An official synopsis for the film reads: “Best friends since college, Simon (Goldstein) and Laura (Poots) drift apart when she takes a test that finds her soulmate despite years of unspoken feelings between them.

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“Over the years, as their paths cross and diverge, neither can deny the feeling that they’ve missed out on a life together.

“Faced with the uncertainty of changing the course of their lives, are Simon and Laura willing to risk everything to experience the love that had been between them all along, or should they accept their fate?”

The trailer, released this week, has already received a rave response from fans who are eager to see the Ted Lasso favourite taking on a new role.

One fan predicted a stellar performance from the leading man: “Brett Goldstein’s ‘face acting’ is next level.

“He can perform an entire, silent dialogue with just one look. It’s so good to see him in a role like this.”

While another quipped: “It’s so weird to see Roy Kent be friendly and not growl every 5 seconds.”

For those still not quite convinced by the tear-jerking trailer, the film has already received critical acclaim after its premiere at the Toronto International Film Festival last September.

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It currently stands at an impressive 83 percent on Rotten Tomatoes, with many critics warning fans to have tissues at the ready.

Entertainment Weekly called it a “weepie of the highest order”, adding: “It’s familiar fodder for romantic drama, but it’s of the highest caliber thanks to its sharp script and devastating central performances.

“Watching All of You is like pressing on a bruise, and ooh, baby, it hurts so good.”

Awards Buzz declared: “Goldstein and Poots are both terrific and would certainly be deserving of Golden Globe nominations.”

While Matt Neglia raved: “ALL OF YOU just emotionally soothed and wrecked my heart.

“An aching adult drama about the choices we make, the regrets we feel, and whether or not we actually have soulmates out there for us in the world.

“I adore adult romantic dramas where the conflict doesn’t feel manufactured & the characters behave like adults. I got plenty of that here with two heartfelt & endearing performances from Brett Goldstein & Imogen Poots.”

Are you ready to get your heart broken by All Of You? There’s just a few more weeks to wait before this devastating drama hits screens.

All Of You premieres Friday, 26th September on Apple TV+.

AN EASYJET cabin manager has lost an appeal after being sacked for calling female co-workers “lovely ladies”.

Ross Barr was fired for gross misconduct after crew members and passengers logged multiple complaints about his inappropriate behaviour.

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He had worked for the airline for eight years, and defended his actions as “flirty banter”.

Mr Barr also claimed he was discriminated against or his sexual orientation, alleging it would have been accepted if “a gay colleague” have made the same remarks.

The former cabin manager appealed the decision to let him go at an employment tribunal, but lost.

Mr Barr began working at easyJet in 2014 and became a cabin manager in 2017.

He was hauled into a disciplinary hearing in 2022 and issued a final warning after a sexual harassment complaint.

More allegations of a similar nature were recorded against him in both 2023 and last year.

Customers also claimed he would refer to his team as “lovely ladies” over the PA system.

Passengers further reported he used the tannoy as an opportunity to perform his own comedy routines rather that conduct proper safety briefings.

Mr Barr had confessed to telling a stewardess “oh I have just brushed past your boobs” as he moved past her.

He was also overheard telling another cabin crew member on a separate flight: “I’m not doing anything.. I’m just staring at your ass.”

The comment was made in front of flyers, including young children, according to witnesses.

In another complaint, one woman said: “The entire shift pretty much he was talking about sex or making jokes about it.

“He explained that he had been suspended before due to a speak up speak out that someone previously put in against him because ‘all I said was that her tits would get bigger if she got pregnant, and guess what they did’.

“She also said that he had referred to her and another crew member as his ‘much more attractive colleague’.”

A different complaint was logged after he told a staff member “having a problem trying to stuff it in? Bet you’ve never had that problem”, while she was packing a bag.

Mr Barr argued he did not mean to make anyone uncomfortable and dubbed his comments “banter”.

He was sacked in September 2024 after the hearing but appealed the decision.

The former easyJet worker argued his case had been tainted by previous hearings.

But employment Judge Muriel Robison ruled: “As the cabin manager you are in a position of trust and I feel there has been a breakdown in trust in relation to these situations, you should conduct yourself in a manner that ensures your crew feel safe onboard the aircraft.

“This is not the first time you have been in this situation with regard to your conduct and comments made to female crew members.

“You raised that you were treated differently compared to others under similar circumstances due to your protected characteristics.

“My investigation did not uncover any evidence to substantiate this claim.

“It’s my belief the process followed was consistent and fair, and you were not treated any differently to your colleagues.

“On 19 March, 2024, you successfully completed training that included a thorough focus on diversity, inclusion and equality in the workplace.

“Despite this, your continued behaviour demonstrated a failure to uphold the values and principles outlined in this training.”

This comes after we reported how a mum was left furious after a British Airways flight attendant allegedly lifted her nursing blanket while she was breastfeeding her seven-month-old daughter.

Passenger Shayanne Wright made a sexual harassment complaint against the male host and said the incident left her feeling “violated.”

A British Airways spokesperson confirmed the allegations were being investigated and said the airline “have been in contact with our customer directly to resolve the matter”.

Wright said the airline did not apologise to her, however offered a $250 gift card, later increased to $1000.

“Splitsville” lands at a moment when every comedy released to theaters feels like a battle cry, an attempt to defend audiences’ rights to have a good time at the movies.

Directed by Michael Angelo Covino, who also produces, co-writes and co-stars alongside Kyle Marvin, the film continues the duo’s comic exploration of bad choices, in which men predictably make poor decisions and are depicted as vain, infantile and often motivated by their worst impulses. (It’s funny because it’s true.)

As the movie begins, Carey (Marvin) is married to Ashley (Adria Arjona), who tells him she has been seeing other people and wants a divorce. He seeks solace from his best friend Paul (Covino) and his wife, Julie (Dakota Johnson), who tell Carey they are in an open relationship. Soon Carey sleeps with Julie and all sorts of jealousies and complicated feelings arise among the four of them.

“Splitsville” — the title appears briefly onscreen as the neon sign of a dessert stand — is outwardly a satire of bourgeois aspirations, modern marriage and how no one really understands the dynamics of what goes on with other couples. But the film is actually more concerned with the absurdities of male friendship, to the extent that Covino and Marvin are perennially enamored of themselves and can’t help from centering their own antics.

Their previous movie, “The Climb,” was also about two friends locked into an up-and-down relationship alternating between of moments of betrayal and gestures of support. While they are not playing the same specific characters from “The Climb,” they are very much playing the same type. Covino is seemingly more smooth and together, though riddled with insecurities, while Marvin initially appears hapless and vulnerable, with an emotional intelligence that reveals him to be savvier than he first appears. So they basically meet in the middle.

The entire movie has a disappointing air of smug self-regard about it, with an expectation the audience will adore everything about the characters as much as they do. What at moments feels like a nascent interrogation of contemporary masculinity ultimately suffers from the very impulses it seems to want to parody. (We hear numerous times that one of them is generously endowed.)

Both Arjona and Johnson are asked to play variations on personas they have depicted elsewhere. Arjona has the same earthy warmth she did in “Hit Man,” while Johnson exhibits a placid air of controlled chaos similar to what she showed earlier this year in “Materialists.” They undoubtedly elevate the movie, though too often their characters feel like game pieces manipulated on a board controlled by the film’s male leads.

Johnson and Arjona are movie stars, beguiling and captivating. Covino and Marvin seem like a couple of guys who somehow wandered onscreen. The tension is never reconciled and is constantly throwing the story off balance.

In “The Climb,” there is a moment where Covino and Marvin briefly wrestle, a ludicrous sight of two grown men tussling on the ground. Here that beat expands into a full-blown fight scene that goes on for more than six minutes, as Paul attacks Carey after learning he slept with Julie. Smashing furniture, breaking drywall, destroying a fish tank (while saving the fish) and somehow singeing off Carey’s eyebrows, the fight scene is the movie’s centerpiece, one of its major selling points and indicative of everything that both works and doesn’t. It is funny, escalating ridiculously, but it is also too outlandish for the characters and the story and only really exists as something that Covino and Marvin simply wanted to do for themselves.

They’re good at jokes but much weaker on meaning, stumbling when it comes to making it all add up to something. With a background in advertising, Marvin and Covino are strong on short, punchy ideas conveyed through strong visuals. They may eventually be better served by making work they do not appear in — their performances are the weakest thing about their movies so far. Even as they remain a promising duo, “Splitsville” never quite fully comes together.