Mitchell

Singer-songwriter Anaïs Mitchell first wrote the numbers for “Hadestown,” a folk musical based on Greek mythology, in 2006. Twenty years later, the Tony-winning smash musical comes to the big screen in a version filmed on the West End in 2025, directed by Brett Sullivan. The production reunites the original Broadway cast — André De Shields, Patrick Page, Reeve Carney, Eva Noblezada and Amber Gray — six years after the show debuted and swept the Tonys in 2019.

There is a timelessness to Mitchell’s work, thanks in large part to the ancient source material, the myths of Orpheus, Eurydice, Hades and Persephone. Developed in partnership with Rachel Chavkin, who directed the Broadway show, the action is set around the 1930s in the American Deep South. The story expresses evergreen themes of love, sacrifice, oppression, addiction and devotion, juxtaposing the tragedy of the way things are against a hope of the way they could be.

There are moments when Mitchell’s songs feel eerily prescient: The show’s villain, Hades (Page), rules the underworld of Hadestown as a fascistic industrialist; his Act I closing number is titled “Why We Build the Wall.” Factory workers sing back to him, “We build the wall to keep us free,” a chorus that foretells the Trumpian rhetoric of 2016 and a reminder that these patterns of division and otherization are the eternal tools of the oppressor.

“Hadestown” is a love story first and foremost, set in a joyous juke joint, the band ringing the stage. The camera follows our narrator, Hermes, played by American theater legend De Shields, as he takes the stage, kissing the heads of his company.

But the show doesn’t start until the 79-year-old De Shields nattily flips his jacket open, to the approving roar of the audience. He introduces doomed Orpheus (Carney), “touched by the Gods themselves,” a born yearner with a gift for song. When Eurydice (Noblezada), a scrappy, skeptical slip of a girl, rolls into town, Orpheus instantly falls head over heels. They have nothing except each other, their love symbolized by a red flower that Orpheus offers.

Party girl Persephone (Gray) brings the summer fun, but her jealous lover Hades wants to keep her all to himself in his domain, trapping the world in a long winter. Orpheus promises to write a song to summon spring again, but a struggling Eurydice is seduced by Hades’ promises of security in Hadestown, and she descends with him, signing her life away to work in his factory. Orpheus tries to rescue his love, but his faith in her is tested on their return to the top — if he turns back to see if she’s there, she’ll be banished to Hadestown forever.

Real-life couple Carney and Noblezada married several months after this production; they met at Noblezada’s audition. Their chemistry makes the emotional devastation of this tragedy that much more real: Every main actor sheds a real tear over the course of the show. Carney’s unique tenor ranges from Jeff Buckley to Freddie Mercury; his rock background and skill with the guitar is required for Orpheus’ lyre-playing and lends to the folk roots of Mitchell’s songs.

Cinematographer Clayton Jacobsen captures unexpected camera angles that a theatergoer wouldn’t get (even one with decent seats), both from down below in the circular pit and above it. He sends the camera soaring over the heads of the audience into intimate medium shots. Sullivan makes the animated and often rowdy crowd an integral part of the cinematic experience, including an extended curtain call with De Shields toasting the audience, sending them out with the warmth with which he brought them in.

There is such a temporal quality to theater, a shared moment in time and space. This production feels like a fleeting moment — a reunion of friends and collaborators retelling a myth that is recounted over and over again. “It’s a sad song, but we sing it anyway,” Hermes reminds us, and it’s a sentiment worth repeating. There may be tragedy, but the summer will inevitably return.

LONDON — Ewan Mitchell shares few similarities with Aemond Targaryen, his unhinged character on HBO’s “House of the Dragon.” The British actor, 29, is soft-spoken, thoughtful and quick with a “thank you.” His hair is currently brown rather than Targaryen blond, although he says the color is actually left over from filming Justine Triet’s upcoming psychological thriller “Fonda.” Although he is very different from the power-hungry second son he plays on TV, Mitchell understands him.

“I always empathize with that little kid in Season 1,” he says, speaking from London’s 180 House on a sunny day in July. “He was this neglected, bullied boy. He was never given a dragon egg. So from the beginning he recognized that he was on the back foot, and he was bullied for being different. What’s nice about Season 3 is it’s showing Aemond’s true colors.”

Early in Season 3, Aemond asserted his dominance over his mother Alicent (Olivia Cooke) with a gasp-inducing kiss on the mouth, a moment Mitchell compares to Michael Corleone’s iconic kiss on Fredo in “The Godfather Part II.” The disgraced prince regent left King’s Landing for Harrenhal in search of Daemon (Matt Smith), only to murder Ser Simon Strong and his sons instead. His fray with the Strong family was triumphant, but left Aemond with a wound in his side. He begged the castle’s mysterious inhabitant Alys Rivers (Gayle Rankin) to help him before vanishing for the next two episodes.

In Episode 5, Aemond is back. At first, he appears wounded and broken. But he ably defends Alys from a group of invaders, relying on muscle memory and — perhaps — a sense of honor to pay her back for saving his life.

“I liken Harrenhal to the White Lotus of Westeros,” Mitchell says. “It’s a place you go for a retreat. You have all of your toxins drawn out of you. You have to confront them head on. You discover like the darkest, deepest places of yourself. And the general manager of that place is Alys Rivers.”

In Episode 5, Aemond (Mitchell) fights off invaders, saving Alys’ life.

(Theo Whiteman / HBO)

The upcoming episodes will keep Aemond at Harrenhal with Alys and expand on the events of George R.R. Martin’s 2018 book “Fire & Blood,” on which the series is based. Showrunner Ryan Condal wanted to explore what wasn’t in Martin’s fictional history of Westeros.

“We knew from the book that he goes to Harrenhal and effectively disappears, at least from the interactive narrative,” Condal says, speaking later over video call. “It’s thought that he establishes some relationship with Alys Rivers. We had that as a baseline, but the idea was: ‘Where can we take Aemond from here?’”

He adds that there was “a danger of the character becoming an anime villain,” which the writers wanted to undercut. “He looks a certain way,” Condal says. “He has this eye patch. He rides this Godzilla-sized dragon. And he’s done some pretty reprehensible things.”

But the writers wanted to go beyond Aemond’s surface, to “a different place and excavate that trauma and vulnerability.”

Mitchell says Alys is the key to Aemond finding himself. “We know his dragon Vhagar is missing,” he says. “And if Aemond is nothing without his dragon, then does he really deserve her? We’ve got to challenge what we know of the character already … Vhagar was the wind in his sails.”

He compares Aemond with Spider-Man, an oddly aligned character. “With great power comes great responsibility to wield that power,” Mitchell says. “He’s got to be able to show he can control it effectively. That’s what he wanted to prove throughout Season 1 and 2.”

He laughs: “It’s just like ‘Spider-Man 2.’ I find it really interesting building up this character over two seasons to bring him back down.”

“I find it really interesting building up this character over two seasons to bring him back down,” Mitchell says of Aemond, who is facing turbulent times in Season 3.

(Jennifer McCord / For The Times)

Condal adds, “He’s feeling isolated and alone and he possibly has made an enemy of his family. And then this woman saves him. He feels this sudden magnetic draw to her. In the episodes that follow, we will further excavate that relationship. It’s one of the most surprising and engaging and emotional stories we have this season.”

Mitchell first appeared as Aemond, the son of Viserys and Alicent and the brother of Aegon II, in the eighth episode of Season 1. He was originally played by Leo Ashton, who Mitchell says “really set up the character for me.” Production had already begun when Mitchell auditioned, first with a self-tape and then for the producers. Initially, he didn’t know which character he was up for.

“I knew this character was the younger brother and that was like a theme of the first season and going through further seasons,” Mitchell recalls. “The second son out to prove his worth.”

Mitchell’s audition was memorable. “He came into the room in character and he scared all of us,” Condal says. “I remember the first question that I asked [our casting director] after he left was, ‘Is he always like that?’ Because it felt like he had gone to such a dark place just to do the audition. When I spoke to him later, I loved how different the person was on the phone versus the person I met in the room.”

To play Aemond, Mitchell looked at MMA and cage fighters to hone in on the character’s agile, brutal fighting style. He trained physically to make Aemond lean but also strong and imposing. He took inspiration from paintings, including Alexandre Cabanel’s 1847 work “The Fallen Angel,” which depicts the devil after his fall from heaven.

“There’s this tear in his eye and you don’t know if he’s feeling sorry for himself or he’s looking at things to come,” Mitchell says. “Is he thinking about the harm he’s going to inflict in retaliation? That was something I wanted to do in Season 2. It contrasts his muscular physique. It’s a mixture between vulnerability and sheer muscle.”

Season 2 saw Aemond purposefully incinerating his brother, leaving him badly burned, and decimating the Riverlands while on Vhagar. The character was grappling for power, even if it meant brutalizing his own family. Condal hints that a reckoning with Aegon will come.

“In the great tradition of ‘Game of Thrones,’ I feel like that is a fairly safe bet,” he says. “Characters are scattered all over the map and then slowly find themselves being brought back together, but in different forms. That was always something we were talking about doing with Aemond and Aegon.”

To play Aemond, Mitchell looked at MMA and cage fighters to hone in on the character’s agile, brutal fighting style. He also took inspiration from paintings, including Alexandre Cabanel’s 1847 work “The Fallen Angel.” (Jennifer McCord/For The Times)

Mitchell sees Aemond as a product of his circumstances, rather than just a murdering psychopath. He was bullied as a child and coddled by his mother, but never received the unconditional love he craved. He was taken to brothels from an early age. He lost an eye. And he grew up in the midst of a brutal war between the Greens and the Blacks. Now he has to reckon with what he’s done.

“You might not understand all of the things he does,” Mitchell says. “And you might not feel like you’re supposed to understand all the things he does. But you do feel something for him. In the moment he saves Alys, maybe there is a redeemable Aemond in there somewhere.”

Cooke says she loves working opposite Mitchell thanks to his complex approach to the character.

“He has such intensity and helps me as an actor in playing Alicent to feel like I’m completely on the back foot,” she says in a voice memo. “It’s filled with tension trying to guess what he’s going to do. Yet in reality, he is the most gentle, lovely, quiet, beautiful person. He’s a joy to work with and I think he makes such interesting choices outside of ‘House of the Dragon.’”

Between Seasons 2 and 3, Mitchell filmed Emerald Fennell’s “Wuthering Heights.” He had previously worked with the filmmaker on 2023’s “Saltburn,” for which he auditioned using a Harold Pinter monologue. For “Wuthering Heights,” Fennell simply texted Mitchell asking him to play Joseph, a servant in the Earnshaw house, whose sexual depravity electrifies Cathy.

Aemond (Ewan Mitchell) and Alys (Gayle Rankin) share a tender moment in Episode 5.

(Theo Whiteman / HBO)

“I was like, ‘If you asked me to shine your shoes, Emerald, I would do that,’” Mitchell says. “All of her characters are so vibrant and so nuanced, and there is such a vision you see in her films. She’s a one-of-a-kind, singular visionary. I’ve learned so much working with Emerald that I’ve taken forward in my career.”

One of those things was a more playful, loose approach to acting. During his first two seasons of “House of the Dragon,” Mitchell felt locked into a particular performance. “I learned the scripts verbatim,” he says. “Aemond is such a calculating character and everything he does is premeditated. He’s so in control of himself. I found myself offering up the same take every single take.”

After working with Fennell on “Saltburn” and “Wuthering Heights,” Mitchell felt more freedom. She encouraged him to give a range of performances on set, allowing her to find the character during the editing process. He brought that with him to the third season of “House of the Dragon.”

“With Aemond being so unsure of himself, it happened more naturally,” he says. “He’s learning new things about himself. I was really open to finding the scene organically on the day and not coming in with any preconceived choices. And I found so much more enjoyment in it.”

Condal observed Mitchell’s looser approach. “I don’t think Ewan was ever rigid,” Condal says. “But what I saw happen over the seasons was someone learning from their professional experience. As a massive fan of Emerald Fennell’s work, I can see how being in that very different crucible could help him become his best version. We probably demanded the most out of Ewan in Season 3 than any of the other actors.”

Mitchell says working with Emerald Fennell helped him take a looser approach to acting.

(Jennifer McCord / For The Times)

Since wrapping Season 3 last fall, Mitchell has stayed busy. He filmed “The Way of the Runner” in China with first-time filmmaker Yutong Bai, Gareth Evans’ remake of the 1960s Japanese crime film “A Colt Is My Passport” in Wales, Luna Carmoon’s sophomore feature “To Make Ends Meat” in London and Can Aydin’s directorial debut “The Healer” in Budapest. He then flew to France to work with Triet, an experience he loved because she shot on film. “Knowing you’ve only got a limited amount of time, there’s something beautiful about the imperfections of performances,” he says. “There was such a great energy with everyone in the room.”

Mitchell has been attracted to performing for as long as he can remember. Growing up in Derby, England, he admired films like “Citizen Kane” and “Taxi Driver” because they centered on “characters you don’t completely understand.” He appreciates the scope of projects he’s done so far, from the massive scale of production on “House of the Dragon” to smaller art house films.

“I love working as much as I can and learning,” he says. “I’d love to keep working with debut directors. After the recent films I’ve done and seeing ‘Obsession’ and ‘Backrooms,’ it’s really motivating seeing what they can do.”

Although Mitchell looks nothing like Aemond, he is frequently recognized. Someone stopped him on his way here today to ask for a photo. “I think it’s the chin,” he grins. He knows he’s inextricably linked to the character, for better or worse. He can’t give much away about what’s to come in Season 3, but Aemond is certainly not down for the count.

“What makes him so dangerous is that just when you think he has nothing left in the tank, it’s like, ‘Guess again,’” Mitchell says. “It’s not a question of whether he’s going to do evil. It’s inevitable that he will do it. And it will be brutal and it will be fast.”

He pauses, unsure of what he can reveal. “I don’t want to spoil anything,” he says carefully, “but I can’t wait for people to see what Harrenhal has in store for him.”

The BBC has confirmed that David Mitchell’s comedy-drama Ludwig will return for a third series, even before its eagerly awaited second season premieres

The BBC has announced that David Mitchell’s popular comedy-drama Ludwig will be back for a third series.

Even before its highly anticipated second season launches later this year. The detective programme, which is ideal for fans of Death In Paradise, has become the broadcaster’s most successful scripted show since 2024, leading executives to commission another run for both BBC One and BBC iPlayer.

Made by Big Talk Studios, in partnership with That Mitchell and Webb Company, the series is also a co-production with Germany’s ZDF. The programme’s first series proved an enormous ratings triumph, becoming the BBC’s most successful comedy debut since at least 2018, reports the Express.

Its initial run drew 9.5 million viewers within its first 28 days, while the opening episode has steadily grown its audience, achieving an impressive 11.8 million viewers in total.

Created and penned by Mark Brotherhood, the six-part mystery features David Mitchell as the unconventional puzzle-enthusiast detective Ludwig, with Anna Maxwell Martin portraying Lucy Betts-Taylor, the wife of the missing James Betts-Taylor. Both performers are confirmed to return to their roles when the series comes back.

Expressing his delight at the third series commission, actor David Mitchell told the BBC: “I am delighted that Ludwig will be returning to solve more of Mark Brotherhood’s brilliant mysteries. I can’t wait to get started and have renewed the subscription on my denouement-learning app.”

Meanwhile, Kenton Allen, Executive Producer and CEO of Big Talk Studios, said: “Ludwig has become one of those rare shows that genuinely cuts through – critically, commercially and internationally. We’re hugely grateful to the BBC, ZDF and ITV Studios for the confidence they’ve shown in greenlighting a third season ahead of the launch of series two.”

He went on to say: “What Mark Brotherhood has created is brilliantly original, hugely entertaining and deceptively distinctive in the way it blends smart comedy with a richly satisfying detective engine. At the heart of that success is the remarkable partnership between David Mitchell and Anna Maxwell Martin, brought to life by an exceptional creative team.

“In a crowded global market, for audiences to have embraced Ludwig on this scale feels incredibly special. There’s clearly nothing puzzling about that.”

Jon Petrie, BBC Director of Comedy Commissioning, added: “Ludwig is exactly the kind of smart, distinctive, audience-pleasing show we love at BBC Comedy. Sharp writing, a compelling story, big laughs and, naturally, a generous helping of puzzles. The team at Big Talk have crafted something truly distinctive and much-loved, and we’re excited to see what mysteries Ludwig tackles next.”

Ludwig is produced by Big Talk Studios in collaboration with That Mitchell and Webb Company for the BBC. The third series, comprising six hour-long episodes, will once again be penned by creator Mark Brotherhood, with Chris Foggin returning to helm the show as lead director.

Ludwig series one is currently available to stream on BBC iPlayer.

“We don’t go in for that kind of crap that you have back in New York–of being obliged to print both sides. We’re going to beat this son of a bitch Sinclair any way we can. . . . We’re going to kill him.”

The speaker: Kyle Palmer, Los Angeles Times political editor, to Turner Catledge of the New York Times.

The time: 1934, when socialist writer Upton Sinclair, who had just swept the Democratic primary for governor of California, threatened to beat handily the GOP candidate, Frank Merriam, in the November election.

Kyle Palmer, the pope of Southern California right-wing politics, was neither kidding nor exaggerating. Nor was he exceptional in his venom toward Upton Sinclair and his mass movement, End Poverty in California (EPIC). According to Greg Mitchell in his fascinating and valuable study, EPIC “was nothing less than a roundabout route to socialism.” On this point, “Political pundits, financial columnists, and White House aides, for once, agreed: Sinclair’s victory represented the high tide of radicalism in the United States.” This tide had to be pushed back, or California would suffocate under the weight of Sinclair’s “maggot-like horde” of supporters, as the Los Angeles Times called EPICers.

In 1934, a year racked by general strikes and epidemic unemployment, the maverick pamphleteer-novelist Sinclair–author of muckraking tracts like “The Jungle” and the most widely translated American writer abroad–was a menace not only to the so-called Vested Interests. Down deep, he embodied a revulsion felt by many Californians toward the capitalist system. EPIC’s program of production-for-use-not-profit, land colonies, barter exchanges and cooperation versus competition was a potentially deadly blow to the American Dream. It was subversive because it spoke to the misery of desperate, Depression-ruined Americans yearning for relief from the day-to-day savagery of a skewed, inefficient system that seemed to be failing everybody but the very rich. At its height, EPIC enrolled 100,000 members from San Diego to Sacramento, and its newspaper sold 2 million copies.

In “The Campaign of the Century,” Greg Mitchell has chosen to focus not on EPIC itself but “on the cataclysmic response to Sinclair’s emergence as the Democratic nominee.” Thus we learn relatively little about EPIC or about Sinclair, but a lot about the nuts and bolts of the “most astonishing . . . smear campaign ever directed against a major candidate.” Our present-day “media politics” with its emphasis on image over substance, was born in the ferocious, fraudulent anti-Sinclair campaign, says Mitchell.

A subtext of Mitchell’s book is how strongly adherents felt about Sinclair and EPIC. They “came from every strata, although nearly all were white. It was not . . . a poor people’s movement. Most of the activists were middle-class and middle-aged . . . Many were down-on-their-luck businessmen.” Any given EPIC club might include “Utopians, technocrats, Townsendites, progressive Republicans, New Deal Democrats, ex-Socialists and secret Communists, all united by a belief in a perfectible society.” No EPIC, aside from clerical staff, earned a cent from the movement. “Members paid a dollar, penny, or a collar button” to join; “Some EPICs hocked the gold fillings in their teeth to raise money.” Although broad-based and decentralized, “EPIC was far from democratic” and indifferent to unions. And Sinclair’s portrait occupied a holy place in many homes.

In any other state, EPIC might never have flown. But California’s populist tradition, open-mindedness (or wackiness), absence of party bosses or deep ethnic loyalties meant that a challenge to established authority was as relatively easy to mount as it was difficult to organize a counter-revolution. At first, the state’s wealthy were so rattled that their political representatives were caught completely off balance by Sinclair’s spectacular rise. Only loonies had expected him to win the primary, and nobody had been crazy enough to predict he would outpoll all six of his opponents together.

But like a great octopus, California’s Republicans and conservative Democrats, equally terrified of EPIC, slowly thrashed up from the murk of politics-as-usual to deal with the “enemy within.” “The prospect of a socialist governing the nation’s most volatile state,” says Mitchell, “sparked nothing less than a revolution in American politics.”

Spurred by “fear and desperation,” ad men like Albert Lasker and especially Clem Whittaker, hired conservative guns, broke the old rules and “virtually invented the modern media campaign.” Whittaker and his associate Leone Baxter introduced the radical idea that free-lance outsiders like themselves, not party chiefs, would “handle every aspect of a political campaign.” Whittaker’s “cozy relationship” with California’s 700 newspaper publishers meant that local editors were happy to run his press releases “as news stories–even as editorials.” The anti-Sinclair “lie factory” twisted and distorted; but worst of all, his enemies quoted from Upton Sinclair’s own works, in which he had attacked everything from wedded bliss (“marriage plus prostitution”) to religion (“a mighty fortress of graft”) and the Boy Scouts. After his defeat, Sinclair confessed wearily and with justice, “I talk too much. I write too much, too.”

By most accounts, Sinclair was a decent, generous, puritanical man of genuine sweetness. What his blurted half-jokes and honest indiscretions failed to supply, Hollywood and Madison Avenue concocted by way of movie propaganda and, probably even more effectively, radio shots–like an anti-Sinclair “One Man’s Family”-type series. Film studio bosses, alarmed by Sinclair’s not-very-serious threat to socialize movie production, colluded with what a Scripps-Howard reporter called a “reign of unreason bordering on hysteria.” Big-time screenwriters like Carey Wilson and directors like Felix Feist (later of “Peyton Place” fame) were enlisted or dragooned to produce Goebbelsesque films, often using faked footage, that drilled home the message: EPIC equals Armageddon. Studio workers were forced to contribute to Frank Merriam’s campaign. Very few Hollywood stars had the guts to refuse. (Holdouts included James Cagney and Jean Harlow.)

Law ‘n’ order also came to the rescue of the anti-Sinclair forces. Election officials, GOP activists and local district attorneys intimidated EPIC supporters away from the polls by challenging the credentials of at least 150,000 voters and threatening to arrest them. All across the state preachers thundered, “Go and Sinclair no more!” and Aimee Semple McPherson, hungry for respectability after her recent kidnaping hoax, turned against Sinclair, despite the pro-EPIC sympathies of her flock.

Finally, the Democrats themselves carved up EPIC. At first friendly to Sinclair, President Roosevelt, needing conservative support for his faltering New Deal, cut a deal with the Republicans. In return for Frank Merriam converting to a pallid form of New Dealism, the party dumped the divisive Sinclair. Frightened Democrats and “third party” anti-EPICers formed around a candidate named Haight, who may have drawn off enough votes to beat the insurgent–but not by all that much. Final results: Merriam 1,100,000; Sinclair 900,000; Haight 300,000. In defeat, Sinclair received twice as many votes as any previous Democratic candidate for governor.

EPIC soon disappeared in a backlash of internal Red-baiting. (The communists and socialists opposed EPIC, but the Communist Party also tried to take it over.) Sinclair stopped muckraking to write the “Lanny Budd” series of best-sellers. Waves of fright and self-interest quickly covered over EPIC’s writing in the sand. Today, who remembers it?

Later, Sinclair insisted that the EPIC campaign had “changed the whole reactionary tone of the state.” EPIC was “the acorn from which evolved the tree of whatever liberalism we have in California,” claimed state Supreme Court justice Stanley Mosk, a Sinclair supporter in ’34. And as a direct result of EPIC and the studio bosses’ much-resented bullying, “politics in Hollywood moved steadily to the left over the next few years.”

Of course, the Right learned, too. “A number of men who would become legends in California politics, on both sides of the ideological fence, virtually cut their teeth on the ’34 campaign,” writes Mitchell. These included Earl Warren (Merriam’s campaign manager), Asa Call, Edmund G. (Pat) Brown (sending what encoded messages to his son today?), Murray Chotiner, Augustus Hawkins, Cuthbert Olson–a whole generation of pols whose experience taught them just how powerful the rich, who own the media, can be when aroused.

Lessons for liberals are harder to come by in this sizzling, rambunctiously useful book. If we take note of this nation’s recent rash of insurgencies–from Carol Moseley Braun to Ross Perot–maybe one lesson is that nothing good ever completely dies, it just goes to sleep for a while.

BOOK MARK: For an excerpt from “The Campaign of the Century,” see the Opinion section, Page 6.