Mia

Liverpool forward Mia Enderby has been taken to hospital with a suspected neck injury following her side’s 2-1 defeat at Tottenham.

She appeared to land on her neck after jumping for an aerial challenge and was taken from the field on a stretcher.

There were 22 minutes of stoppage time played at the end of the match, owing largely to Enderby’s injury.

Enderby, 20, has featured in all six of Liverpool’s Women’s Super League games this season and started against Spurs.

Former Sheffield United player Enderby signed a new two-year deal in the summer, having made 42 appearances and scored six goals in her first two seasons with the club.

Liverpool are already without Marie Hobinger and Sophie Roman Haug, who suffered anterior cruciate ligament (ACL) injuries before the international break.

The Reds are second-bottom at the WSL, having failed to pick up any points from their first six matches.

TORONTO — Welcome to a special daily edition of the Envelope at TIFF, a newsletter collecting the latest developments out of Canada’s annual film showcase. Sign up here to get it in your inbox.

Christina House, our staff photojournalist, continues to kill it with her portraits out of the Toronto International Film Festival. In the last day alone, she’s seen Angelina Jolie, Jacob Elordi and the cast of “Frankenstein,” Jodie Foster and more.

Or maybe you’d rather watch a video interview with Angelina Jolie and the cast and director of the inspiring fashion film “Couture?” Follow us on Instagram for all of our daily posts.

‘Blood will be shed. Possibly even a tear’: Our critic on Rian Johnson’s new ‘Knives Out’ mystery

Amy Nicholson had fun with “Wake Up Dead Man: A Knives Out Mystery.”

She’s also noticing a fair amount of Canadian pride at her screenings. It’s been an unusually loaded moment for foreign relations with our neighbors to the north.

Amy weighs in on the scene from the first four days, her favorite (and less-than-favorite) movies at TIFF and a few surprises.

The day’s buzziest premieres

‘The Smashing Machine’

Sunday saw the TIFF schedule loosen up its restrictions regarding films that premiered at other festivals and audiences started to see more major titles from competing fests.

Take for example the Monday night premiere of “The Smashing Machine,” which just won the directing prize at Venice for Benny Safdie.

Making his solo debut apart from brother Josh — their most recent collaboration was “Uncut Gems” — Benny turns in a surprisingly heartfelt sports story based on mixed marital arts fighter Mark Kerr.

Taking the leading role is none other than wrestler-turned-actor Dwayne Johnson, in a part seemingly tailor-made to play off his own career arc and give him a prestige boost he has never had before.

Add Emily Blunt to the mix, as Kerr’s supportive partner, along with boutique studio A24 and the film seems like it should land the right combinations. — Mark Olsen

‘Exit 8’

Ever fear that you’re racing around but going nowhere — that you’re in such a rush to make your way through the world that you’re barely seeing it?

Japan turned that feeling into a best-selling video game in which commuters are condemned to roam an underground subway station until they learn to pay attention to their surroundings.

Now Genki Kawamura has transformed that game into a movie. In Kawamura’s emboldened adaptation, our main player, the Lost Man (Kazunari Ninomiya of the pop band Arashi) is an aimless young slacker who is stuck both physically and emotionally.

If he ever wises up and escapes, he’s got to make better choices.

I’ve got a few quibbles with the film’s mechanics, but “Exit 8” is a moving metaphor for the art of giving things a close, appreciative watch. On day five of a film festival, we could all use a reminder to look sharp. — Amy Nicholson

I’m watching overtourism in action. Within the iridescent marvel that is Croatia’s Blue Cave, four boats holding about a dozen people each have an allotted 10 minutes before we motor back out again so that the next batch of visitors can float in. About 1,500 people a day visit this beautiful grotto on the island of Biševo, the biggest attraction within the Vis archipelago, two hours and 20 minutes south of Split by ferry. After paying the €24 entrance fee, I’m left underwhelmed by this maritime conveyor belt. At least the 45-minute foot ferry from Komiža, on the archipelago’s main island of Vis, to Biševo’s Mezoporat Bay, the launch point for boats to the Blue Cave, is only €4.

Croatia map for Vis

Many of the other cave visitors are on one of the countless speedboat tours departing from all over Dalmatia and crowding into Mezoporat Bay before whizzing off elsewhere. I’m staying on Vis itself to take a longer, slower, more satisfying look at the island, where I spent a night three years ago and which I’ve been hankering to revisit ever since. Despite the overwhelming popularity of the nearby Blue Cave and its speedboat tours, plus the boost in tourism on Vis after much of Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again was filmed here in 2017, I know there’s a quieter, mellower side to the island, and it doesn’t take long to find it.

In sleepy Rukavac on Vis’s south-eastern coast, British couple Xania and Craig Wear welcome me into one of their four guest rooms in the large stone house they renovated after moving here 20 years ago. The former PE teachers run WearActive, offering yoga, kayaking, paddleboarding and cycling in Rukavac. On their seven-day, “relaxingly active” holidays you can do as much or as little as you like. “Actively relaxing”, I find, is just as fitting a description.

Xania serves delicious plant-based food on the large shaded terrace, which has views of the sea. But before breakfast we walk to the flat rocks of Bili Bok beach, where Craig puts me through my yoga paces. Clean, salty air fills my lungs as I lunge and stretch by the Adriatic. I follow this with a swim at nearby Srebrna beach. Late afternoons are spent lazing on the pebbles at Tepluš beach, 10 minutes’ walk from the house. I could get used to this.

The next morning, my hosts suggest kayaking 6 miles (10km) from Rukavac to Stiniva Bay, Vis’s most famous beach and a place of peerless beauty. Two giant limestone cliffs curve round the pebbly beach, nearly meeting in the middle. From the top of the hill behind the cliffs there’s a steep, rocky footpath to the beach, but it’s infinitely more enjoyable to paddle on to the beach, where only kayaks, paddleboards and small rubber dinghies are allowed. Craig is on a paddleboard, while Xania and I share a kayak, and my husband has a single kayak. At 8.30am there are only about four people here, and we have a blissful, peaceful swim.

Craig knows I’ve always wanted to learn how to paddleboard, so on the way back to Rukavac we stop in tranquil Ruda bay. After some expert instruction, I’m on the board and paddling away, initial jitters soothed by the hypnotic motion of gliding on the water. Now I see what all the fuss is about.

Away from the water, my husband and I get to know Vis more intimately, crisscrossing its vineyard-covered interior and heading up and down its winding mountain roads. Its capital, Vis town, dozes during the day, most restaurants closing while the sailing crowd cruises. It comes alive at night, the restaurant terraces along the Venetian harbour buzzing in the summertime warmth.

Smaller Komiža is the place for lunch, with everything from cheap pizzerias to smart restaurants. Near Gusarica beach we find Konoba Jastožera, a restaurant built on stilts over the water, where lobster pots hold the restaurant’s speciality.It’s only when I hear the soundtrack to the Mamma Mia! films that I realise we’ve stumbled on one of the sequel’s filming locations, and instantly expect high prices and low quality. Wrong on both counts. As long as we don’t order lobster, it’s one of the most affordable restaurants we’ve seen so far, with two courses for €25. It’s not all money, money, money here.

For an island that was off limits to foreigners until 1989, when the Yugoslav army base here closed down, Vis seems to be taking its time in developing its tourism (Biševo’s Blue Cave aside). I spot a few military tours about, taking people to the huge network of tunnels and bunkers left behind by the army. I get a fascinating glimpse into 1944 Vis when I hike up to the collection of caves at the foot of Mount Hum, where future Yugoslav president Tito and his fellow partisans hid from the Nazis.

Then there’s the growth of active holiday companies bringing more people to the island, which Xania sees as a positive thing, even if it means more competition. “Vis would then become an island that’s known for its adventure holidays,” she says. “And then you have more people coming to do that kind of tourism.” I nod in agreement. The island’s natural rhythm – slow, unhurried – is one to be savoured, not raced through.

The trip was provided by WearActive, which offers seven-night active holidays from €1,590pp, including breakfast, four lunches, three dinners with wine, five days of activities, transfers to restaurants on four evenings and from Vis town ferry terminal

1 of 3 | Janice Combs, mother of Sean “Diddy” Combs arrives at Federal Court for the Sean “Diddy” Combs’ sex trafficking trial in New York City on Friday. The Sean Combs jury Friday heard from “Mia,” one of the alleged sexual abuse victims in his sex trafficking and racketeering case. She acknowledged later positive social media posts about Combs, but said she had severe PTSD and her time with Combs was very confusing. Photo by John Angelillo/UPI | License Photo

May 30 (UPI) — The Sean “Diddy” Combs jury Friday heard from “Mia,” one of the alleged sexual abuse victims in his sex trafficking and racketeering case. She acknowledged later positive social media posts about Combs.

She testified Thursday that Combs repeatedly physically and sexually assaulted her, making her feel trapped in what she alleged was ongoing abuse.

“Mia” said she felt she didn’t have any safe way to report the abuse.

Combs denies all the charges and maintains sexual acts described by prosecutors were consensual.

Under prosecutor questioning “Mia” said she was traumatized by the abuse she alleges Combs inflicted on her and that it resulted in complex, severe Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

Under cross-examination from defense lawyer Brian Steel, “Mia” was asked about posting a good birthday wish for Combs five years after the abuse was alleged to have occurred.

It said, “Thank you for being the good kind of crazy. Thank you for being a friend and bringing friends into my life.”

Asked why she would do that and also promote the person she claimed had stolen happiness in her life, “Mia” said her experience with Combs was “a very confusing cycle of ups and downs.”

In an effort to discredit her testimony and establish reasonable doubt of Combs’ guilt, the defense confronted her with more positive posts and messages from “Mia” about Combs.

“Mia” testified that she posted the positive social media posts about Combs in part because it was about demonstrating how great your life was even if it wasn’t true.

She added she felt fear any time Combs was unhappy because it meant she was unsafe.

“Mia” said during cross examination that her dynamics with Combs would shift and “when things were good, we felt really safe” and almost forgot about the abuse.

She said she had to “beg” Combs to allow her to go to her grandmother’s funeral.

On Tuesday, former Combs assistant Capricorn Clark testified she saw Combs beat Cassie Ventura for having a relationship with another rapper. She added Combs told her he wanted to kill Scott Mescudi, also known as “Kid Cudi.”

Combs is charged with one count of racketeering conspiracy; two counts of sex trafficking by force, fraud or coercion; and two counts of transportation to engage in prostitution.

Bertolt Brecht wrote that, in the dark times, there will also be singing. In Susanna Kwan’s debut novel, she asks whether those songs may be sung if there are no choirs to sing them. Choirs require community, and the role of community during environmental disaster is one of the themes that runs through this thoughtful novel about art, creation and the ways we care for one another.

Bo is a 40ish woman living in a San Francisco high-rise in the mid-21st century. The city is underwater after being swamped by the rising Pacific Ocean and incessant rain. But the city continues to exist. Those who have not fled inhabit the upper floors of skyscraper apartment blocks. Bo’s cousins have lined up work opportunities for her in Canada, but when the novel begins, she is insistent on staying. What keeps her there is grief; two years before, her mother disappeared during a storm. Bo clings to the hope that one day she will be reunited with her.

Like Bo before the rains, Kwan is an artist and she conveys what goes missing in her character’s life after environmental disaster: In the perpetual rain there are no longer seasons. And without seasons, there are no holidays or festivals to mark the changes in the year. Bo marks time with her twice-weekly visit to the rooftop markets, where merchants sell food they’ve grown or had brought in by boat. But it’s also where she scans the bulletin boards filled with photos of the missing and lost in search of her mother.

Kwan’s novel hones in on the ways that isolation and boredom sap vital parts of ourselves. The book captures America’s recent history: 2020 and isolating in our apartments and houses while outside, the dead piled up in freezer vans and mass graves. The ways that anxiety and loneliness caused many to turn inward, to make what was happening personal, as if no one else was affected. The loss of community and empathy for others drowned in the waves of fear, uncertainty, and for many, anger. Bo herself struggles with her individual feelings of frustration and grief, but then reminds herself that she hasn’t been singled out for bad fortune.

“What made her special in the long human history of crisis and displacement?” Bo wonders. “She had followed reports of heat waves that never subsided, outbreaks of anthrax and smallpox and malaria, continents dried to deserts, genocidal regimes, military blockades at borders that prevented passage to hundreds of thousands of people with nowhere to go, children drowning at sea. And yet the matter of her own privileged leaving felt extraordinary and without precedent, even as she registered this delusion.”

Before her mother disappeared, Bo worked constantly as an illustrator and painter, a source of joy that sustained her. But after her mom dies — and it is clear that her mother has most likely been washed out to sea — she is paralyzed. “Art, she’d come to feel, served no purpose in a time like this. It belonged to another world, one she’d left behind.” Grief has grayed-out her love for colorful creation.

One day, a neighbor slips a note under her door. It is a request that Bo come help out Mia with household chores. Mia lives alone, and at age 129, is struggling.

Bo has supported herself in the constricted economy as a caregiver. Many of those in the high-rises are the elderly, in some cases abandoned by their fleeing children, but sometimes just too fragile to be moved. By 2050, people are living past 100 and living to 130 isn’t rare. But 130-year-old elders have elderly children and even elderly grandchildren. Weaker bonds with third- and fourth-generation descendants has left many to look after themselves.

Bo is the daughter of Chinese immigrants; Mia came from China with her parents. Mia’s daughter and further descendants live thousands of miles away. Caring for Mia reminds Bo of the time she spent with her mother when they made frequent treks to check in on family elders, a way of paying respect, her mom told her when Bo was a child.

In Mia’s apartment, the two women begin to bond in the kitchen. Bo prepares food while Mia tells stories of her life in San Francisco. She had been born in the 1920s, not that long after the earthquake and devastating fire that leveled the city in 1906. Mia’s life parallels the growth of San Francisco and her memories of how the city changed through the decades in the 20th century intrigues Bo. So much was lost, first in the wave of explosive population growth and wealth, but when the rains came, entire parts of the city disappeared, their histories swallowed by the relentless rise of the Pacific.

Bo’s memories have already been dulled by perpetual grayness. But hanging out with Mia loosens something inside of Bo, and she notices that her senses can serve as “time machines,” and give her access to her own past. There are obvious reminders — a photograph — but songs are especially evocative even before she recognizes the tune. “A song provided passage from the present station back to a place and time, distinct and palpable. The trip was quick, a sled tearing down a luge track, the body sensing its arrival before the mind could register the journey.”

Bo’s occasional lover is a man who visits San Francisco as part of his job working in natural resources. He spends much of the time counting and cataloging what species remain, or what is about to be lost. When he arrives back in town after she has started working for Mia, Bo finds that her growing sense of purpose, her desire to return to art-making, is motivated by a similar impulse.

She wants to catalog Mia’s experiences, her memories of the city that no longer exists. In their long conversations, Mia summons images and histories of places that Bo never knew existed. Inspired by Mia, Bo goes to the city’s archive and searches for the photographs, newspaper articles, blueprints, maps and other ways that the now-missing city documented its existence.

For Mia’s approaching 130th birthday, which Bo senses will be her employer’s last, she decides that she will use her skills as an artist to bring the old city back to life one more time — a gift for her employer, but also a means by which Bo can recapture the wild energy that is creation.

Survivalists preparing for an imagined catastrophic future hoard food and supplies and stock up on guns to “protect” themselves from those in need. But as Kwan shows, such visions of the future are the refractions of nihilism and the American belief that individual survival and success is due solely to individual effort. But that’s never been the case. What preserves human life — even a life in horrific circumstances — are relationships of caring and cooperation. Community built on taking care of each other is the only way that we will thrive. The networks we build to support others eventually becomes the social safety net we will ourselves need.

In dark times, the songs that will comfort us will not be the cacophony of individual voices wailing their grief. The darkness will be lifted by the harmonies of those who recognize each other’s humanity.

Berry is a writer and critic living in Oregon.