tale

On the flight home from Chicago, as he reflects on the 4-2 loss to Leeds that ended Liverpool‘s United States tour, manager Andoni Iraola will have plenty to think about.

The first-half display was arguably the best since the Spaniard took charge, but the second was categorically their worst as they conceded four times without reply inside 25 minutes.

Iraola did make a raft of changes at the break and in the second half but that is no excuse for the way they capitulated against Daniel Farke’s side.

Their lack of squad depth and physicality was alarmingly exposed and Iraola will be concerned with the ease with which Leeds scored, albeit against an inexperienced backline that finished with Calvin Ramsay, Ifeanyi Ndukwe and Mor Talla Ndiaye.

With Alexander Isak and Florian Wirtz making their return, Liverpool were excellent in the first half and it is important not to be too critical but perhaps Iraola will be glad in the long-run that he saw this second-half display, where Liverpool‘s set-piece deficiencies were evident too.

“We conceded two goals from set-pieces. We have to fix that and make sure we deal with them better,” said midfielder Dominik Szoboszlai.

The intensity Iraola demands on the training pitch was evident in the first half but seemed non-existent after the break. Senior figures like Curtis Jones and Federico Chiesa did not cover themselves in glory.

“I particularly hate this month of August because you start the competitions and you still don’t know if some of the players are going to leave and who’s going to come – there is a lot of uncertainty,” said Iraola, earlier in the week.

Iraola will meet Virgil van Dijk, Cody Gakpo, Alisson Becker and new signing Victor Munoz over the coming days at the AXA Training Centre.

By then, the only first-team player he will have yet to meet will be Alexis Mac Allister, who has been granted extra time off following Argentina’s run to the World Cup final. Munoz, who did not play a minute in Spain’s successful World Cup campaign, will return earlier to aid his integration into the squad.

However, over the course of a fortnight in America, Liverpool have had no incomings. That was in part because Iraola wanted to see the squad at his disposal before making decisions.

What he saw in this defeat will play into those decisions.

Who pissed off Ariana Grande? Well, who didn’t?

On her new album, “Petal,” the pop superstar opens the spigot on what she’s described as an “unfiltered rage” to blast any number of feckless exes, a prying public obsessed with her body and her personal life — and not least herself for allowing anyone the power to hurt her in the first place.

“Tell me who’s to blame — is it the people or myself?” she wonders against the icy synth stabs of the title track.

Her answer, delivered as a sneering little aside: “Yeah.”

“Petal” marks a dramatic shift from Grande’s previous LP, 2024’s “Eternal Sunshine,” a tender and melancholy electro-pop collection that laid out a kind of emotional philosophy of heartbreak. She recorded the new album with the same team — the hit-making writer-producers Ilya Salmanzadeh and Max Martin — but here they go for a murkier, more percussive sound to match Grande’s dark mood.

Tolling electric guitar accompanies her in “Freak” as she muses on “all of the life I’ve been denied,” while “Oh Well” puts a jittery U.K. garage beat under her sneering farewell to an unnamed antagonist: “Good luck on your way to hell.” In “Hate That I Made You Love Me,” which debuted at No. 1 on Billboard’s Hot 100 when Grande released it as “Petal’s” lead single, she sings, “I’ve held your projections when you’ve felt so insecure,” over a trudging groove that moves like a funeral march.

These downcast observations arrive at what would seem to be a professional high point for Grande, who recently wrapped her extended stay in the “Wicked”-verse and who’s in the middle of a tour that’s drawn adoring fans to arenas across the country.

But perhaps that’s the point: Almost every song on “Petal” can be interpreted two ways — as a story about a broken relationship between two people or as a tale about the toxic connection between an idol and her audience. (More than once did this record make me think about Taylor Swift’s “The Tortured Poets Department.”)

“My pain is music — do you hear me everywhere?” Grande asks in “Warning Signs (Interlude),” which climaxes with a pithy diagnosis of pop stardom in the parasocial age: “You don’t deserve me / You know you don’t, you never have / But I want you to feel me / I wish someone could hear me.”

Complaints about celebrity can be pretty tedious, of course; sometimes it feels as though famous pop singers have forgotten how to write about anything other than life in the social-media fishbowl.

Yet “Petal” gets some creative traction from how Grande chooses to use her voice; instead of belting, she rarely rises above a whisper, which gives a spooky, slightly creepy quality to her thoughts on being endlessly scrutinized. The airiness of her singing provides some comedy too in a hard-edged song such as “Like I Do,” where after noting that “all that s— talk keeps me well-fed,” she tells whoever needs to hear it, “No one f— you like I do.”

Having gotten all this off her chest, Grande finishes the album by allowing in some light: Over a zippy new wave arrangement, “Bad Thing (Bunny Hop)” ponders the renewing energy of a fresh romance — or maybe a rekindled old one — while the glistening “Nowhere, Nobody” has her taking deep breaths with a lover she’s convinced might finally give her what she needs.

“Convinced” is probably the wrong word.

“Hard to believe in a perfect ending,” she admits, “But that’s all right.”

If I see one more person saying that the only way to truly experience Christopher Nolan’s vision of “The Odyssey” is to see it in Imax 70mm, I am going to start turning cinephiles into swine.

I understand that this is a technically true statement. As we all know by now, Nolan went on his own hero’s journey with this film, using an unwieldy and extremely loud Imax camera to shoot it (a feat only he and perhaps a few other directors would be given the finances to do). Like many, I applaud his efforts and those that were made to increase the number of theaters capable of projecting Imax 70mm (and 70mm in general).

There is an undisputed cultural magnificence to reimagining a nearly 3,000-year-old tale in the most artistically immersive format currently available to filmmakers. Unfortunately, the vast majority of filmgoers will never be able to see this master vision; only 25 theaters in the country are capable of showing the film in Imax 70mm — eight in California (including four in the L.A. area); two in Colorado, New York, Texas and Tennessee; and one in Arizona, Florida, Georgia, Illinois, Indiana, Michigan, Nevada, Pennsylvania and Rhode Island.

So a little more than twice the number of U.S. World Cup venues this year. But then, you could watch the World Cup on TV.

Not that you’ll be able to watch “The Odyssey” on TV anytime soon. As a rigorous defender of the theatrical experience, Nolan requires that his films stay in cinemas and off streamers for much longer than the average movie — “The Odyssey” will likely not be available on NBCUniversal’s Peacock until early 2027.

It is a noble mission; movie theaters need all the help they can get and heading into its second weekend, “The Odyssey” has already more than recouped its $250 million production budget. It will need to make between $625 million to $750 million to break even, which seems more than doable. “The Odyssey” could well become the third-ever R-rated movie to gross $1 billion.

Film snobbery notwithstanding, however, much of that will be accomplished via non-Imax 70mm screenings, which come in a near-Homeric list of types. On top of reacquainting the populace with a story that most of us have not thought much about since that middle-school project or college classics class, “The Odyssey” is offering a lesson in “premium formats.”

On the film’s website, one can view the trailer in Imax 70mm, regular Imax, regular 70mm, Dolby Vision and large format. Given the limitation of personal screens, this only reveals the varying frame dimensions, but it’s pretty fun to flick through them.

What is less fun is trying to figure out on which, and where and when, you can actually see the damn thing. While not on par with battling carnivorous Cyclops or world-weary witches, getting a ticket to “The Odyssey,” even after opening weekend, is a voyage filled with many obstacles.

Including but not limited to the recent crash of the AMC app.

I may or may not have contributed to this crisis, having recently spent well over an hour trying to get a measly two tickets.

Though it went against all my anti-elitist beliefs, I did try to leverage my L.A. privilege and see “The Odyssey” as Christopher Nolan intended — in Imax 70mm. Alas, the only seats available for days, even in standard Imax and 70mm, were in the first row. I was forced to “downgrade” to Dolby Vision at the Burbank 16, where, by the grace of Athena, I found two non-front-row seats, albeit in the middle of a weekday. (Mercifully, this actually counts as work for me.)

I am not equipped to argue saturation levels or whatever else differentiates one format from the other, but the Dolby experience was quite immersive, both in cinematic detail (The storms! The slaughter! The suitors’ slopping wine!) and cardiac-disruptive bass notes.

Certainly, I felt a bit like Odysseus as I crept — drained, disoriented and trailing popcorn crumbs like Ithican sand — out into the sun. It was an experience like no other (seriously, to survive Imax 70mm, I might have to go into training).

So I am a bit bewildered as pundits declare that the success of “The Odyssey” reflects some larger theme about what film audiences want. Beyond, you know, a very powerful movie.

This is one of the most singular films made in recent years. So singular that it all but defies any kind of tea-leaf-reading or, heaven forbid, attempts at replication. I don’t see a future in Homeric spinoffs (unless someone wants to do a limited series on Circe, starring Samantha Morton), and while it is vital to celebrate the craft of Imax 70mm filmmaking and projection, the theatrical experience cannot afford to put all, or even many, of its eggs into that basket.

An increased reliance on “premium formats” may seem like an obvious weapon in the increasingly one-sided war between at-home and theatrical viewing, but it is not the answer. Or at least not the only answer. (For one thing, there aren’t enough Imax 70mm cameras or projectors to go around.)

Like sports fans, many cinephiles are happy to spend hours, and dollars, to have the ultimate experience — tales of folks driving across state lines and/or paying thousands to see “The Odyssey” in Imax 70mm echoed the recent stories of international visitors saving up for a year to see their team play in the World Cup.

Though marvelously affirming for film fans, this is not a sustainable business plan. Movies are supposed to be for everyone. Not just those with a neighborhood Imax 70mm theater or the ability to pay $30 for a regular Imax seat. Going to the movies should not require hours of research to choose a theater, negotiating with a scalper or finding AI-aided plots to game the system. And there shouldn’t be such an obvious and geographically rigged hierarchy.

Before you know it, Live Nation will be involved and then where will we be?

Christopher Nolan’s non-CGI visions of the Trojan Horse, the Cyclops, the sacking of Troy, the transformation of men into pigs do not require an “ultimate” aspect ratio to be remarkable.

(Melinda Sue Gordon / Universal Pictures)

“The Odyssey” is a legitimate phenomenon and that’s terrific; more power to Nolan and the theaters that benefit. As a solution to flagging box office, well, if Hollywood does not want to go the way of — as Timothée Chalamet famously said — ballet and opera, it cannot afford to become dependent on premium experiences that are accessible only to a small percentage of the audience.

Of course it’s great that “The Odyssey” was shot, and is being shown, in Imax 70mm and regular 70mm, especially in a year when stories that originated on YouTube are also burning up the big screen. Art should never be an equation of replacement. Supporting all manner of work is always the best way of preserving and celebrating the splendid diversity of filmmaking.

No matter how unparalleled the form, it still must follow function. “The Odyssey,” in whatever format it is seen, is an epic adventure with emotional undertones beyond the original story and an existential message that resonates far more than its smattering of modern language. Nolan’s non-CGI visions of the Trojan Horse, the Cyclops, the sacking of Troy, the transformation of men into pigs do not require an “ultimate” aspect ratio to be remarkable.

All the various formats have their proponents and the conversations about them have been entertaining and informative, but no matter the film or screen size, it’s a very good movie.

And that’s the only template Hollywood needs to follow.

NO-ONE travelled further to become an international star than Sam Neill, who died today aged 78.

He would leave his home in the South Island of New Zealand to fly thousands of miles to film sets in Britain, Europe and America – but always travel back to his far-flung base the moment they were over to spend time with his family.

They confirmed his death in a statement, writing: “It is with immense sadness that the whānau of Sam Neill share the news of his passing on Monday 13th July, in Sydney, Australia.”

This followed a battle with stage three blood cancer after he was diagnosed in 2022.

After undertaking an experimental treatment announced a month ago he was in remission.

His family said: “The loss was sudden and unexpected but blessed by the fact that Sam remained cancer- free.”

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Sam became famous thanks to his role in Omen III (The Final Conflict) where he played the antichrist who had risen to become a British politician trying to prevent the second coming of Christ.

Before then starring in 1983 British TV series, Reilly, Ace of Spies, in which he played Sidney Reilly, a Russian-born adventurer who became a successful spy during the First World War.

But his entry to the big-time came ten years later in Jurassic Park, directed by Steven Spielberg, which spawned a craze for everything about dinosaurs. 

The film, about a theme park where the public could see cloned dinosaurs, caught the public’s imagination – and broke box office records.

The dinosaurs run riot in the film when all safety fences are broken, killing park workers and each other as there is a battle for supremacy. 

Neill’s lead role of dinosaur expert Dr Alan Grant escaped the carnage and went on to star in sequels, Jurassic Park III (2001) and Jurassic World Dominion (2022), making a personal fortune in the process.

Yet he was a last minute choice after bigger star names like William Hurt, Kurt Russell, Harrison Ford and Tim Robbins all turned it down.

“It was a warning never to become too big or too expensive,” he said. 

“You can lose a lot of good parts in that way. I preferred quiet progress.”

Neill did precisely that throughout his career of over 100 movies in nearly 50 years, in which he would turn up in the most unlikely roles.

It included that of Major Chester Campbell in the first two series of the BBC’s hit series Peaky Blinders.

He was born on September 14th, 1947 in Omagh, Northern Ireland to New Zealander father Dermot, an army officer, and mother Priscilla, who was English. 

Although he was christened Nigel, he later thought the name ‘prissy’ and changed it to Sam in childhood. 

His family continued to call him Nigel.  

He is survived by actor son Tim (b 1983) whom he had with actress Lisa Harrow, a fellow New Zealander.  

Despite reports to the contrary, they never married.

He also has daughter Elena (b 1991) with estranged wife Nariko Watanabe, a Japanese make-up artist whom he met on Dead Calm (1989), which was co-star Nicole Kidman’s breakthrough movie. 

He had a stepdaughter with Watanabe, Maiko Spencer (b 1982).  

Neill spent virtually his entire life travelling, first with his father’s job moves around Ireland and then, when he retired from the army, to New Zealand, aged seven.

His father joined the family brewing wholesale business near far-flung Dunedin, which was Gaelic for Edinburgh and founded in 1848 as a Scottish Free Church settlement.

“I was an outsider from the start there,” he recalled. 

“Bullying at school, mocked for my accent, being called names and beaten up – the lot.

“Cowboy films and TV series were very popular at the time, so I called myself Sam to sound like one. It didn’t do much good.”

He was sent away to boarding school in Christchurch, more than 200 miles north along the coast. 

“It was even more lonely,” he said. 

“I developed a stutter, although I could talk perfectly up to that point.”

He used the experiences and memories when he became an actor, always being prepared to take on new projects wherever they were in the world.

“I had an ability to pretend to be other people – probably because I had to at school,” he told me. 

“I never had any great expectations as an actor.”

He started working in television documentaries and in small acting roles.  

He was 30 before he appeared in a movie, Sleeping Dogs (1977), an action thriller made in New Zealand. 

“That film was a calling card,” he said. 

“It was a critical success and that led to some offers, all thousands of miles away. It was a case of either travel or never leave.”

He had arrived in London when we first met in March, 1989, promoting a film called A Cry in the Dark, with Meryl Streep.

It was an alarming real-life Australian story about a baby girl who disappeared from a campsite.

The baby’s mother, Lindy Chamberlain (played by Streep) insisted that a wild dingo dog had taken her baby, but a disbelieving public felt that she was making up a story to cover up murder.

Neill was playing husband Michael Chamberlain. 

“It revealed to me the price of being an international star, like Meryl,” he said.

“She was the most famous actress in the world at that point and the sort of stuff she had to put up every day was incredible. 

“One was a story about her leaving her husband for Michael Jackson!

“I thought to myself ‘if this is what real stardom means, I don’t want it.’   So I had to be careful. I wanted recognition, but also want privacy and sanity.”

Neill went on to achieve exactly that.  

We met several times over the years. He had a calm, down-to-earth manner, unfussy and unflashy, with a dry self-mocking sense of humour.

“I have always been free of ambition – honestly,”  he said.

“I realised, early on, that if I started to desperately want things, then I was going to be disappointed.

“There was always someone whose career was going to better and bigger than mine. There was also someone going to get the parts I wanted.

“So I never had a game plan. If I’d had one, I would have moved to Hollywood and committed to a career in films, going to endless meetings and being a ‘personality.’

“Instead, I have never moved my home from New Zealand. I’ve been fortunate in that enough work has come up – and I’ve travelled to do it.

“I had to get used to the biggest jet-lag, the longest time-changes to the body and being away from home. But that’s been worth it.

“Don’t forget that the first time I went to New Zealand in the early 1950’s it took two months by boat and now it’s only 21 hours by plane.”

He was also cautious about being caught in the trap of other well-known actors. 

“I don’t know what it is about us that leads us in to more temptation,” he laughed.

“I think we are sometimes over-celebrated and can have far more fame than is comfortable. So when trouble comes, it’s all over the public domain.

“I once went to a pub’ with English actor Warren Clarke, drank non-stop to keep up, blacked out and woke up in bed with a woman I didn’t know. 

“The trick is to keep your trousers on and go to bed early. It’s mostly worked for me up to now.”

He seemed to effortlessly glide into some major roles in films like The Hunt for Red October (1990) and The Piano (1993) and TV series The Tudors (2007), Happy Town (2010) and Alcatraz (2012).

There was a certain irony that when playing his unrelentingly tough Northern Ireland police chief in Peaky Blinders, he couldn’t master the accent.

“I was born in Northern Ireland and had the accent as a kid, but had buried it so deep in my mind that I had the greatest difficulty digging it up again.”

He ended up calling his Irish friend Liam Neeson for some tips and delivered the part pitch-perfect.  

“I probably over-did it a bit in the end,” he said.

“I love working in Britain. I feel part British, obviously, and the quality of the acting and the film crews are hard to beat anywhere in the world.”

Between each highly-paid role and movie, he would return home to New Zealand and not work, sometimes for months on end, so would simply slip out of the headlines.

On the last occasion we met, he was more interested in talking about his own wine label in New Zealand. 

He had used the old family connection with wine to grow his own and set up a company to produce it.

He lived, very happily he said, among wine-making and animals on a ranch in Central Otago, surrounded by mountains and lakes.

Neill announced in his 2023 autobiography Did I Ever Tell You This? (Penguin) that he had been undergoing chemotherapy since March, 2022 for a type of blood cancer. 

He had first noticed swollen glands when travelling to promote Jurassic World Dominion.

He had put a hold on his acting work. 

“I have been very fortunate to enjoy the best cities in the world – like London, Paris or Rome – and I have never been too jaded to get a kick out of that,” he said. 

“But the thing that pleases me more than anything is to sit still at my home, have a quiet glass of red wine and contemplate life.”

Route 66 was 20 years old and World War II had just ended when Bobby Troup, an aspiring songwriter from Pennsylvania, decided to go west. As it turned out, that drive in early 1946 did more than anyone could have imagined to establish the road as a symbol of footloose American freedom.

Stories, photos and travel recommendations from America’s Mother Road

Troup, 25 at the time, had already earned an economics degree from the University of Pennsylvania, written a hit song (1941’s “Daddy,” sung by Sammy Kaye), worked for bandleader Tommy Dorsey and served as a Marine through the war years. But to restart his career as a songwriter and actor, he believed that he needed to be in Los Angeles. So he and his wife, Cynthia, pointed their 1941 Buick toward California.

They started on U.S. 40, then picked up Route 66 in Illinois. Along the way, as Troup told author Michael Wallis in the book “Route 66: The Mother Road,” Cynthia came up with a phrase she thought was songworthy.

Bobby Troup, composer of the hit song “Route 66” and grand marshal of Duarte, Calif.’s Salute to Route 66 parade, rides in a 1948 Buick convertible and waves to fans in 1996.

(Louisa Gauerke / Associated Press)

“Get your kicks on Route 66,” she said.

Troup took it from there, creating “a kind of musical map of the highway.”

As Troup later recalled in an introduction to a Route 66 book by Tom Snyder, they heard Louis Armstrong play a club in St. Louis, stopped at Meramec Caverns in Missouri and found that “a good part of the highway was absolutely miserable — narrow, just two lanes, and very twisting through the Ozarks and Kansas.” Then came a snowstorm in Texas.

By the end of the drive, the up-tempo tune was half-done. Then, not quite a week after arrival, Troup landed a chance to pitch a few songs to Nat “King” Cole, who had already won fame with hits including “Sweet Lorraine” and “Straighten Up and Fly Right.”

They were sitting by a piano on stage — after Cole’s last set of the night at the Trocadero on Sunset Strip — when the nervous young songwriter decided to share his unfinished road song.

“I got up on the riser, pulled the piano bench back a little bit — and it went over the side and I fell over backwards,” Troup confessed in a later interview.

Still, Cole “loved it,” Troup recalled. “As a matter of fact, he got on the piano with me and played it.”

This was February. By mid-March, the song was done and Cole was recording it in a studio on Santa Monica Boulevard, part of Route 66.

The finished version name-checked a dozen cities along the route, including these words:

Now you go through Saint Looey

Joplin, Missouri,

And Oklahoma City is mighty pretty.

You see Amarillo,

Gallup, New Mexico,

Flagstaff, Arizona.

Don’t forget Winona,

Kingman, Barstow, San Bernardino.

Won’t you get hip to this timely tip

When you make that California trip

Get your kicks on Route 66.

In April, Capitol Records released “(Get Your Kicks on) Route 66” and the tune quickly rose to #11 on the Billboard chart of top-selling singles. Before 1946 was out, it had been recorded again, this time by Bing Crosby with the Andrews Sisters. That version went to #14.

Musicians Nat “King” Cole, left, and Bing Crosby, circa 1945.

(NBC / NBCU Photo Bank / NBCUniversal via Getty Images via Getty Images)

Coming just as postwar America was rediscovering leisure travel, the song was a big hit — and for many, a painful irony. Even with guidance from the Green Book used by many African American travelers in those days, it would have been deeply risky — and illegal in some places — for any Black man, Nat King Cole included, to eat and sleep on Route 66. This was a year before Jackie Robinson integrated baseball’s major leagues, two years before the U.S. Army was integrated.

As Candacy Taylor puts it in her 2020 book “Overground Railroad: The Green Book and the Roots of Black Travel in America,” “the open road wasn’t open to all.” Into the 1950s, Taylor writes, “about 35% of the counties on Route 66 didn’t allow Black motorists after 6 p.m.” and six of the eight states on the route still had segregation laws. Cole may have helped sell Route 66, Taylor writes, but “the carefree adventure he was promoting was not meant for him.”

Documentary photographer Candacy Taylor at the New Aster Motel in Los Angeles in 2016. In her book “Overground Railroad,” she writes about the discrimination Black travelers faced while driving on Route 66.

(Brian van der Brug / Los Angeles Times)

Two years after recording the song, when the increasingly wealthy Cole and his family bought a Hancock Park mansion and became the neighborhood’s first Black homeowners, many neighbors tried to keep him out, poisoned the family dog and burned racist insults into his lawn.

The Coles stayed put. The family was still in that home on South Muirfield Road in 1956, when Cole became the first African American to host a network television show, and in 1965, when Cole died of cancer at 45.

Troup, who later was divorced from Cynthia and married singer/actor Julie London, went on to record more than a dozen albums and had other songs recorded by Little Richard and Miles Davis. As an actor, Troup filled many guest-star roles on television, played Dr. Joe Early on the 1970s TV show “Emergency!” and had a small part in Robert Altman’s 1970 film “MASH.”

Meanwhile, the song kept rolling. As years passed, Perry Como, Sammy Davis Jr., Chuck Berry, the Rolling Stones, the Manhattan Transfer, Michael Martin Murphey, Asleep at the Wheel, Buckwheat Zydeco, Depeche Mode, Glenn Frey, the Brian Setzer Orchestra and John Mayer recorded versions. At different points in the 2006 movie “Cars,” you hear Berry’s and Mayer’s versions. Troup, who died in 1999, never forgot the difference the song made, both in his life and the way people think about the road.

“On the basis of that song, I was able to go out and buy a house and stay in California,” Troup told Wallis. “I never realized when I was putting it together that I was writing about the most famous highway in the world. I just thought I was writing about a road — not a legend.”

The Rolling Stones are among the countless musicians who have recorded versions of “Route 66.”

(David Redfern / Redferns via Getty Images)