Shawn

“The Real Housewives of Salt Lake City” star Angie Katsanevas and her husband, Shawn Trujillo, are calling it quits.

According to Page Six, the reality television personalities have separated after 27 years of marriage. The news comes after years of rumors, starting during Season 4 of “RHOSLC,” that Trujillo was involved in affairs with numerous men. The drama played out onscreen and bled into Season 5 of the reality series.

The former couple denied the rumors repeatedly.

During a 2023 appearance on the “Behind the Velvet Rope Podcast,” Trujillo called the rumors “pretty ridiculous.” The same year, he and Katsanevas spoke with Andy Cohen on “Watch What Happens Live,” and Trujillo said it wasn’t the rumor that he was gay that offended him, but the rumor that he’d been unfaithful.

“It’s not a gay/straight thing,” Trujillo said. “It’s an infidelity thing. We love our gay community. We’ve been embedded in it for 30 years now, just based on what we do for our business.”

“I’m here to support Angie, and I’ll take the hits,” he added.

Katsanevas noted that Salt Lake City had “come a long way,” and that stereotyping a man for being a hairdresser might have been commonplace 15 years ago but that there had never been infidelity rumors around her marriage “in Salt Lake City or anywhere.”

The former couple tied the knot the same year they launched their business, Lunatic Fringe Salon, in 1999. The husband-and-wife team ultimately expanded the luxury beauty business into a successful franchise that operates across Utah, Idaho and Ohio, with the flagship store located in Salt Lake.

As recently as January, Katsanevas was gushing about Trujillo on “The Viall Files” podcast. The businesswoman and housewife told hosts Nick Viall (of “The Bachelor” fame) and his wife, Natalie Joy Viall, that she and Trujillo met in a hair salon when she stopped by for a haircut more than three decades ago.

“He was working there with his big muscles and his long hair and his hoop earrings and he was so good looking and he was a bodybuilder and a hairdresser,” she said. “You didn’t see straight men doing hair at that time, which I know sounds crazy. Obviously things have changed since then; there are a lot of straight men that are hairdressers, but he was so kind and so sweet, and not really a macho guy. He was soft-spoken, quiet, very focused on his career and shy. And I just love that about him.”

The two became an item when Katsanevas started working at the salon when she was 21 and Trujillo was 24. “He would flirt with me in the back room and hold my hand under the table, and then he asked me to dinner one Valentine’s night,” she said.

According to the salon owner, when she was invited to join the cast of “RHOSLC” in 2021, she wasn’t prepared for the jabs that would be aimed at Trujillo or the toll it would take. “I had no idea what I was signing up for. I had no idea people would say or question my marriage after 30 years,” she said.

Bravo has not yet announced a release date for Season 7 of “RHOSLC,” but the forthcoming season wrapped filming in May and is expected to air this fall. Whether the former couple’s split will play out in the new season remains uncertain.

Katsanevas and Trujillo did not immediately respond to The Times’ request for comment.

Call “Scary Movie” lazy, dumb and offensive. It would enthusiastically agree. The lowbrow horror parody thrives on shtick about weed, race and genitalia. The only thing that scares it is high expectations.

But amid the rampant stupidity of the first “Scary Movie,” released in 2000, original director Keenen Ivory Wayans discovered two major talents: Regina Hall and Anna Faris. As heroines Brenda and Cindy, respectively, Hall and Faris were daffy, dopey and committed. Alongside a cast of Playmates (Carmen Electra, Shannon Elizabeth) and family members (Wayans brothers Marlon and Shawn), they played stupid like Shakespeare. In two decades since, both gave up the Ghostface to do better things: Hall in “Girls Trip” and “One Battle After Another,” and Faris in “Smiley Face” and “The House Bunny.” (Frankly, Faris deserves to be doing more.) If a sixth “Scary Movie” is going to lure them back for what the ensemble openly frets is a rebooquel — as in a reboot-sequel, here pronounced “re-booty call” — it better be good.

Fine, good is a stretch. The latest “Scary Movie,” which simply recycles the title “Scary Movie,” is as lazy, dumb and offensive as the others. But Hall and Faris, now playing the dotty mothers of the next generation of victims, are hilarious, romping about like their Brenda and Cindy have clearly been knocked on the head too often. (Brenda, fans of the franchise know, has technically already died twice.) I laughed 10 times, which makes this “Scary Movie” the best of the bunch — a pallid compliment.

Directing duties have shuffled to Michael Tiddes, a longtime Wayans collaborator, who gets gutsy performances from three of this entry’s newbies: Olivia Rose Keegan and Savannah Lee Nassif as Cindy’s estranged daughters, a pill-popper and a Wednesday Addams clone, and Ruby Snowber, maximizing every second of her feature debut as a high school tramp.

The Wayans clan left the series early on due to a contract dispute with Harvey and Bob Weinstein. Now seven have returned. Four Wayans (Craig, Keenan Ivory, Marlon and Shawn) co-wrote the script with Rick Alvarez; three more (Kim, Damon Jr., and Gregg) act in the film alongside Marlon and Shawn, who revive their characters Shorty, a stoner with a shrill cackle, and Ray, whose only personality trait is being gay. In one of many homages to “Sinners,” Ray promises a church he’ll act straight. Then he mimes tucking his manhood between his legs and dancing like Buffalo Bill in “The Silence of the Lambs.”

Yes, Shorty and Ray were also murdered in the first movie. No, it doesn’t matter. “Scary Movie’s” one genuinely ingenious move is to resurrect actors without shame. Jon Abrahams’ bad boyfriend (stabbed), Lochlyn Munro’s lout (slit throat), and Electra’s eye candy (pierced through the breast implant) are back, too, as are a pair of erotically linked survivors, Cheri Oteri’s news anchor and Dave Sheridan’s moronic cop, whose spittle-flecked chin is the grossest thing in a film that has a mall Santa costumed like “Terrifier’s” Art the Clown gifting a child a set of severed testicles.

“The Silence of the Lambs” remains the only horror film to win best picture at the Academy Awards. This “Scary Movie” has no delusions of that. Yet in the years since the last installment, 2013’s “Scary Movie 5” — a sequel so awful that even its own director, Malcolm D. Lee, later admitted, “It’s not worth your time” — the horror genre at-large has become ambitious, with “Sinners,” “The Substance,” and “Get Out” earning Oscar nominations and “Weapons’” witchy Amy Madigan seizing the supporting actress prize.

This “Scary Movie” makes fun of all four of those newer hits, as well as the recent rebooquels of “Halloween,” which was earnest, and “Scream,” which couldn’t decide what tone to hit. Each send-up is funny for at least an entire minute, a lifetime when you’re watching Marlon’s Shorty mug for the camera. Either Shorty has the most screen time or he’s just so excruciating that it feels like it.

I cannot make the straight-faced argument that the worst “Scary Movies” were held back by their source material. Still, it’s true that when the series was at its nadir, so few vibrant horror films were being made that it was stuck lampooning the now-forgotten Jessica Chastain chiller “Mama.” Likewise, when this “Scary Movie” takes a jab at Nicolas Cage’s more-kooky-than-tedious “Longlegs,” the limp gag of the creepy Shorthand (Chris Elliot), underscores that the movie itself just isn’t that interesting.

“Scary Movie” inserts two political jokes that earn a solid gasp-giggle-groan. Yet, the most grating new addition is a self-righteous student named Dei Meeks (Sydney Park), who polices the humor. The movie relishes killing the killjoy. A whole mob does her in; it’s the one death that feels angry. I’d have been happy to see her die in her first scene. Not that I empathize with canceled comics who posture as if they’re victims under attack, but it would do this country good if it could occasionally share a laugh.

Don’t waste one brain cell trying to deduce the assassin. The answer is surprising and satisfying. While the script’s hasty nods to “KPop Demon Hunters” and the biopic “Michael” make it feel like it was written on yesterday’s Kleenex, the immediacy allows “One Battle After Another’s” Teyana Taylor to acknowledge that Madigan’s Aunt Gladys stole her Oscar. Swilling tequila shots and hollering “Viva la revolución!,” she’s hysterical in the cleverest opening slasher scene since Drew Barrymore answered the phone in the 1996 “Scream.” I’d watch six more “Scary Movies” if Taylor starred in them. But like Hall and Faris, she deserves better.