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    ‘The Old Guard 2’ Review: Uma Thurman vs. Charlize Theron

    Uma Thurman joins the expanded cast in this sure-footed sequel to the action blockbuster about a team of immortal heroes.Five years ago, “The Old Guard” injected a tired genre of superhumans in capes with existential alienation and grit. The aim of that film, about a crew of immortal vigilantes who go on rescue missions to help mankind, was admirable but also frequently one note.What could another installment offer? The best that a sequel can: buff out those blemishes, expand the universe and subvert the genre again. In “The Old Guard 2,” superheroes saving humanity is out, gods beefing with gods is in. The film, directed by Victoria Mahoney, is a sure-footed romp that tightens the screws, most immediately by flexing a bigger cast and broadening the lore of the original comic book series. All this expansion starts right where the last one ended. Believed to be lost under the sea for centuries, Quynh (Veronica Ngo), a fellow immortal and lover of Andy (Charlize Theron), has returned. She’s discovered by Discord (Uma Thurman), another mysterious immortal who is opposed to Andy’s meddling in human affairs. Aggrieved and feeling abandoned by Andy, who is now mortal, Quynh then becomes a useful tool for Discord.Whereas the first film was focused on the arrival of a new immortal named Nile (KiKi Layne), this one has forgotten immortals popping up (like Tuah, played by Henry Golding). That means a lot of drama, and fertile ground for these supreme beings reckoning with the most human of experiences: love and betrayal, guilt and regret, all complicated by being alive for millenniums.Ngo is the key anchor to these feelings, providing a strong emotional counterpoint to Theron that was just present in flashbacks the first time around. The shared history in their gazes and the pain and recriminations of losing and finding each other again translates the wistful burden of immortality that the first film mostly said, but couldn’t really make you feel.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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    What we know about the jury’s deliberations.

    Sean Combs’s lawyer made a final appeal to the jury at his racketeering and sex-trafficking trial in New York on Friday, arguing in often sarcastic tones that the government’s evidence contradicted its case against the hip-hop mogul.The lawyer, Marc Agnifilo, portrayed his client as a deeply flawed man who led a swinger’s lifestyle, had a drug problem and sometimes physically assaulted his girlfriends. But he argued government’s accusation that Mr. Combs was a sex trafficker or the ringleader of a racketeering organization was “badly exaggerated.”“He did what he did,” Mr. Agnifilo said. “But he’s going to fight to the death to defend himself from what he didn’t do.”Here are some takeaways from the defense’s closing argument.The defense focused on consent, credibility and overreach.Friday’s summation was the most substantive argument made to date by the defense, which called no witnesses during the trial and declined to put Mr. Combs on the stand.Mr. Agnifilo devoted long stretches of his four-hour closing argument to highlighting testimony, texts and video evidence, that he said demonstrated that Casandra Ventura and “Jane,” who testified under a pseudonym, consensually participated in the marathon sex parties that are central to the government’s claim that the women were sex trafficked.“You want to call it swingers, you want to call it threesomes,” he said, “whatever you want to call it, that is what it is — that’s what the evidence shows.”Mr. Agnifilo cast doubt on the credibility of some of the government’s witnesses, taking particular aim at Capricorn Clark, a former assistant to Mr. Combs who testified that she had been kidnapped twice at his direction. In one of those instances, she said, Mr. Combs was in possession of a gun, a statement that the defense said was not supported by other witnesses.At one point, Mr. Agnifilo suggested that the racketeering charge was an overreach and that Mr. Combs had been targeted by the government because the case began with a lawsuit, not anyone making a report to law enforcement. “He’s indicted by himself,” Mr. Agnifilo said, noting that no witnesses testified to being part of such an enterprise.The prosecution later objected, arguing that Mr. Agnifilo’s suggestion that Mr. Combs had been targeted was improperly made in front of the jury. Judge Arun Subramanian agreed and told jurors that the decision-making of the government or a grand jury on whether to charge a defendant was “none of your concern.”The defense offered an alternative view of the infamous video of a hotel assault.Mr. Agnifilo presented an alternative narrative for a critical piece of evidence in the case: a security-camera video that showed Mr. Combs beating Ms. Ventura in a hallway of a Los Angeles hotel in 2016.The jury has seen this footage numerous times during the seven-week trial, and witnesses described it from multiple angles, as well as what happened before and after the attack. The video also shaped public opinion of the case after CNN aired a version of it last year, prompting Mr. Combs to apologize, calling his behavior “inexcusable.”The government contends the video shows Mr. Combs beating Ms. Ventura when she tried to leave a marathon sex session with a male prostitute. That would be evidence he had physically compelled her to participate, a key element in proving sex trafficking.One of the sexual encounters took place at the InterContinental Century City hotel in Los Angeles. Video of Mr. Combs dragging Ms. Ventura down a hallway has been cited as part of the abusive conduct.Hunter Kerhart for The New York TimesBut Mr. Agnifilo characterized the attack as flowing from a quarrel over a phone, not punishment for leaving the “freak-off.” Early in the video, Ms. Ventura is seen walking down a hallway with a phone in her right hand, heading toward an elevator bank. Later, after Mr. Combs attacks her, he appears to retrieve the phone from her and walks back to the room with it.A gap in the time code on the video, Mr. Agnifilo said, suggests that Ms. Ventura went back in their hotel room for three minutes and 42 seconds before a security guard arrived. “The point is,” Mr. Agnifilo said, “the room is not a scary place.”Mr. Combs’s family was a focal point.Mr. Agnifilo pointed out that six of the music mogul’s seven children were in the courtroom to offer support — “the seventh being an infant.” Mr. Combs’s mother, Janice, a frequent presence at the trial, was also in the gallery.“You should know that,” ​M​r. Agnifilo told the jury. “You should know who he is,” he added, “the man takes care of people — that’s what’s in the evidence.”Wrapping his closing statement, Mr. Agnifilo returned to Mr. Combs’s family ties to add stakes to his potential acquittal. “He sits there innocent,” he said of his client. “Return him to his family who have been waiting for him.”Mr. Combs’s sons, Christian​ Combs and Justin​ Combs, arriving at court in Manhattan on Friday.John Lamparski/Getty ImagesOn Friday morning, one of Mr. Combs’s sons, Christian​ Combs, released new music under the name King Combs. The seven-song EP includes a track with Ye, formerly known as Kanye West, called “Diddy Free.”On it, King Combs, 27, raps about those who “try to play the victim” and states “[expletive] the world, critics and the witness.” Later, he says: “this Bible might come in handy / this rifle might come in handy” and repeats a chorus on which he promises not to sleep “’til we see Diddy free.”​A​nother of Mr. Combs’s sons, Justin​ Combs, arrived at court wearing a shirt that read “Free Sean Combs” ​on Friday, but a court officer quickly tapped him on the shoulder — those kinds of visible messages of support are not allowed. He left the courtroom and the message was not visible when he returned.Mr. Agnifilo’s closing was marked by animated, often sarcastic, statements.Mr. Agnifilo, who opened his closing argument with a warning to the jurors that he likes to pace while he talks, used an energetic delivery to hammer home the defense’s skepticism of the government’s case. Speaking forcefully, gesticulating and pacing, he reacted to the idea that Mr. Combs was in charge of a racketeering enterprise: “Are you kidding me?”His demeanor loosened as he continued, and at one point Mr. Agnifilo made a reference to the 50th anniversary of “Jaws” and its quotable line “We’re going to need a bigger boat,” while poking fun at the investigators in the case: “We need a bigger roll of crime-scene tape!” Regarding the lubricant found in the raids of Mr. Combs’s homes, Mr. Agnifilo also gave a passionate “Whoo!” reminiscent of Al Pacino onscreen.In the first 30 minutes of his summation, Mr. Agnifilo appealed to the jury’s emotions, throwing in personal asides, laugh lines and detailed characterizations of the witnesses in colloquial terms, working to keep them engaged while broadly brushing away the legitimacy of the charges.At other times, his mockery was more direct. In referring to Ms. Ventura’s brief relationship with the rapper Kid Cudi, the defense lawyer became especially animated: “Cassie’s keeping it gangster!” he said, arguing that she was brazenly lying to both men, with no apparent fear of Mr. Combs.“I’m getting myself a burner phone,” Mr. Agnifilo said, imagining Ms. Ventura’s mind-set at the time. “Whooooaaaa — a burner phone!” the lawyer added. “Someone’s got a burner phone!” More

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    ‘Kill the Jockey’ Review: Backing the Wrong Horse

    An equestrian suffers a brain injury that alters his identity in Luis Ortega’s stylized gangster movie.Like a marionette missing its strings, the equestrian Remo Manfredini spends much of the fickle dark comedy “Kill the Jockey” hanging inertly in center frame. The film opens on Remo (Nahuel Pérez Biscayart), a onetime champion, enduring a midcareer crisis that finds him drinking and drugging before races. He seeks an antidote to his malaise in his romance with Abril (Úrsula Corberó), a fellow jockey, who serves as a plucky buffer for the self-saboteur against his ruffian boss, Sirena (Daniel Giménez Cacho).The director, Luis Ortega, doesn’t give much reason to care about Remo’s conflict — the protagonist’s catatonia inspires the same in the viewer — and instead exhausts his efforts on a mannered blankness of style and mood. The action unfolds in composed tableaux, with lines delivered inexpressively enough to void them of meaning. The exception to the rule is Abril, who claims the movie’s heart by dint of being the sole character with one.The movie’s second half finds Remo suffering a traumatic brain injury that inspires him to don a fur coat, old lady purse and smudged makeup, a decision that seems to have been driven less by narrative — as in a gender-bending Pedro Almodóvar tale — than aesthetic. As “Kill the Jockey” devolves into gangster mayhem, the whole story starts to feel unconsidered, almost perfunctory. Offering respite are scenes with Abril, especially one in which she and her friend Ana (the magnetic Mariana di Girólamo) shimmy and gyrate before a big race; their agility suggests that being a jockey is akin to dancing.Kill the JockeyNot rated. Running time: 1 hour 36 minutes. In theaters. More

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    5 Minutes That Will Make You Love Art Blakey

    For a time in the late 1940s, Art Blakey went to live in West Africa. When he returned to the United States, he told reporters that his time there had given him a fresh appreciation for the music called jazz. This, he declared, was a Black American music — quite distinct from the folk forms he’d heard in Africa.Yet at the same time, Blakey’s experiences in the motherland — where he’d converted to Islam and taken the name Abdullah ibn Buhaina — filled him with a knowledge of jazz’s roots, allowing him to hone a style that was deeply polyrhythmic, powerful and directly related to the drum’s original role: communication. With that knowledge, he would change jazz history.“When he plays, his drums go beyond a beat,” Herb Nolan once wrote in a DownBeat profile. “They provide a whole tapestry of dynamics and color.”Blakey had started out playing piano on the Pittsburgh scene during the Great Depression, but after switching to the drums he stood out, joining the famous big bands of Fletcher Henderson and Billy Eckstine. Following his sojourn in Africa, he and other young Muslim musicians in New York formed their own large ensemble, the Seventeen Messengers. After that band broke up, he and the pianist Horace Silver started a smaller group, the Jazz Messengers; before long, Blakey was its sole leader, and with his drumming as the linchpin, the Messengers came to define the straight-ahead, “hard bop” sound of jazz in the 1950s and ’60s.Art Blakey at Cafe Bohemia in New York in the mid-1950s.PoPsie Randolph/Michael Ochs Archives, via Getty ImagesBlakey kept the band together for decades, frequently replenishing its lineup with young talent, so that the Messengers became known as jazz’s premier finishing school. “Once he saw that you’d learned the lesson, it was time for you to go,” the saxophonist Bobby Watson recalled of his time as a Messenger in the 1970s and ’80s. He added, “He was one of the most positive people I ever met, and he loved young people. He used to say, ‘There’s nothing wrong with being young — you just need some experience.’ And that’s what he provided.”We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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    ‘This Is Spinal Tap’ Returns to Theaters in 4K Restoration

    Rob Reiner’s 1984 cult film about a British band past its prime returns to theaters in a new 4K restoration.Thank cinéma vérité for the rockumentary. D.A. Pennebaker’s 1967 “Dont Look Back” came first. And thank those for spawning the faux vérité mockumentary that arrived in the form of Rob Reiner’s 1984 “This Is Spinal Tap” — a parody which, legend has it, was taken by a credulous few for a vérité portrait of an actual rock band.First a critical favorite, then a VHS cult film (for rock bands in particular), and finally a Library of Congress certified classic, Reiner’s film returns for the holiday weekend in a new 4K restoration.Introducing himself as the filmmaker Marty DiBergi (and fatuously taking credit for the term “rockumentary,” already in circulation), Reiner expresses his longtime admiration for Spinal Tap, “one of England’s loudest bands,” a group of amiable dimwits touring the United States to promote their new LP, “Smell the Glove.”As documented by DiBergi and punctuated with bombastic, bare-chested performances of casually ludicrous (but catchy) numbers, their Tap Into America tour is rife with quarrels, snafus, canceled bookings, hissy fits and spectacular onstage malfunctions.The fictional band was created by boyhood pals David St. Hubbins (Michael McKean) and Nigel Tufnel (Christopher Guest), and so in a sense was the film: McKean and Guest met at New York University and developed a riff that was picked up on by Reiner and Harry Shearer (who plays Derek Smalls, another band member) for an abortive TV comedy show and thereafter evolved into the movie.As such, “Spinal Tap” is a rich feast of clichés ranging from kinescopes of the band’s early incarnations to backstage shenanigans and ham-handed intrigue. The glibly incompetent manager (Tony Hendra) quits, leaving David’s pushy, astrology-minded girlfriend (June Chadwick) in charge as engagements drastically decline. Nigel departs in the wake of a U.S. Air Force base mixer, leaving the band without a lead guitarist for a gig at an amusement park second billed to a kiddie puppet show.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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    From No Home to a Perch in Hollywood, a Filmmaker Finally Breaks Through

    Fresh from a year of attending the prestigious Sundance labs and armed with a script that would become her first feature, the director Victoria Mahoney thought her life as a filmmaker was about to begin. It was 2006 and she was attending a party at the Sundance Film Festival for industry professionals to meet the new crop of lab graduates. Agents, producers and others were there to mine new talent for future collaborations.Mahoney and her pal, the documentary filmmaker Kirsten Johnson, stood in that room and waited to be approached. Crickets. Finally, an agent came over and asked about their involvement in the labs. They responded effusively. But instead of inquiring about their work, he asked if they could introduce him to one of their male colleagues. That agent signed that colleague in the room. Mahoney? Nothing. Not on the mountain. Not after the festival ended.It would take Mahoney 11 years to land an agent and 20 more to make her first studio film. That movie, “The Old Guard 2,” debuted this week on Netflix.Charlize Theron in “The Old Guard 2,” directed by Mahoney. (Theron reteams with Chiwetel Ejiofor, KiKi Layne, Matthias Schoenaerts and others for this sequel.)Eli Joshua Ade/Netflix“We all believe the fables of what happens when you’re at Sundance and you’ve come through the labs; we’ve seen it,” Mahoney said in a recent interview. “We weren’t viable. We weren’t anything. It’s indicative of a thousand things.”Mahoney’s story is not unfamiliar. So many toil in the film industry and are not rewarded with sustainable careers even when they receive accolades early on. What makes Victoria Mahoney distinct is that there never was a Plan B. She lived without a safety net for a decade, couch surfing at friends’ homes, even experiencing true moments of homelessness — nights when she didn’t know where she would be resting her head. But her belief in herself that she was destined to be a filmmaker? That never ebbed, regardless of her setbacks.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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    How Oasis Stayed on People’s Minds (by Fighting Online)

    The band hasn’t played a show since 2009, but the quarreling Gallaghers kept their names in the news by mastering the art of the troll, on social media and beyond.Oasis is back, but in some senses it never left.The Manchester band, whose anthemic songs and sharp-tongued antics helped define the 1990s Britpop era, will return to the stage Friday in Cardiff, Wales, kicking off a global stadium tour. These will be the first Oasis shows since 2009, when the guitarist and primary songwriter Noel Gallagher quit the group, proclaiming that he could no longer stand to work with Liam Gallagher, the lead singer. The brothers, long known for their brawling, have not performed together since, yet they’ve rarely ceded the spotlight.“They definitely successfully kept themselves in the public eye during the whole breakup period,” said Simon Vozick-Levinson, Rolling Stone’s deputy music editor.The key to their continued relevance hasn’t just been enduring songs like “Wonderwall” and “Champagne Supernova,” but an uncanny ability to keep their famous bickering top of mind using modern tools that didn’t exist when the band’s 1994 debut arrived: social media and blogs.In the absence of Oasis, the Gallaghers released solo music, but also a barrage of insults and barbs via Liam’s eccentric social media posts and Noel’s dryly provocative interviews, all of it breathlessly documented, aggregated and amplified by British tabloids and the online music press. For listeners who discovered the band after it broke up, this constant hum of comedy and conflict has been a glimpse of the Oasis experience — a more potent distillation of the group’s essence than musical offshoots like Beady Eye and Noel Gallagher’s High Flying Birds.Noel Gallagher has mostly reserved his frank remarks for interviews, naming his price for an Oasis reunion or doling out insults off the cuff.Luke Brennan/Getty Images“The only little bits you could get of Oasis — it was their Twitter presence, it was their viral silliness, just their boneheaded attacks at each other online,” said Aidan O’Connell, 26, drummer for the Chicago indie-rock band Smut.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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    ‘Videoheaven’ Review: Rewinding the Tape

    A documentary by Alex Ross Perry examines how movies and TV have portrayed video store culture.Borrowing the format of “Los Angeles Plays Itself” (2004), Thom Andersen’s great, sprawling survey of how movies have depicted Los Angeles, Alex Ross Perry’s archival documentary “Videoheaven” takes on a topic that is considerably more niche: how movies have depicted video stores.The subject is more capacious than it might sound. For one thing, it is intriguingly time-bound. Video stores couldn’t have appeared in movies until the late 1970s, says Maya Hawke, who narrates, in a nod to her role as a video store employee on “Stranger Things.” Eventually, such stores will only be portrayed by people who never experienced them firsthand, she says, “like westerns or the World War II film.”Drawing on Daniel Herbert’s book “Videoland,” Perry traces how films and TV went from showing home viewing as exotic or dangerous (“Videodrome,” “Body Double”) to seeing it as routine. Onscreen, video stores became sites for romantic interaction or potential embarrassment. Pondering a television trope in which a person seeking to rent a pornographic movie is, without fail, shamed, “Videoheaven” describes “an extremely 1990s paradox wherein adults are interested in sexuality but unwilling to admit it.”The observations range from the incisive to the grandiose, and at nearly three hours, “Videoheaven” could stand a tighter edit. Early on, a line of voice-over is sloppily repeated verbatim. And Perry only needs so many clips of obnoxious clerks, even if it’s funny to see David Spade repeatedly typecast in that role.But the material will be irresistible to any cinephile who has spent countless hours in these spaces, and a critic would do well to admit susceptibility. I’ve met Perry a few times over the years, and the first time, he thought I looked familiar — I assume because I had frequented the Kim’s Video where he worked.VideoheavenNot rated. Running time: 2 hours 53 minutes. In theaters. More