Aurelia Butler

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    ‘Housewife of the Year’: Contestants Look Back in Dismay

    Ciaran Cassidy’s film revisits an Irish television show that judged stay-at-home moms on budgeting and appearance.There’s a temptation, when making a documentary about some obviously retrograde practice from the past, for filmmakers to treat their subject like something to gawk at. Can you believe how backward earlier generations were? Let’s all point and stare and wince.“Housewife of the Year” (in theaters), directed by Ciaran Cassidy, could very easily have gone in that direction. The film is about (and named after) a live, prime-time televised competition that took place from 1969 to 1995 in Ireland — and it’s pretty much what it sounds like. Women, generally married and raising a large family, were judged on qualities ranging from sense of humor and civic-mindedness to budgeting, preparing a simple meal and, of course, keeping up their appearance. All of this, the movie briefly explains via text onscreen, can be seen as an effort to prop up the social order in a deeply religious, deeply traditionalist country where it was virtually impossible for a married woman to maintain many kinds of employment. “The state shall endeavor to ensure that mothers shall not be obliged by economic necessity to engage in labour to the neglect of their duties in the home,” Article 41.2 of the Irish Constitution proclaims. The competition helped reinforce those values.As Irish society changed, especially with respect to women’s rights and reproductive freedoms, the competition eventually turned into “Homemaker of the Year,” open to all genders. But that’s not the focus of the documentary, nor is there ponderous narration explaining to us what happened. Instead, “Housewife of the Year” focuses on two main ways of telling its story. The first is archival footage from the competition, which reinforces how much of it focused on patronizing and even belittling the women as they participated, via the male host, Gay Byrne, interviewing them onstage. It’s remarkable to watch.But woven throughout are present-day interviews with many of the participants, now much older, who see things differently than they probably did back then. They tell stories of what was really going on in the background: alcoholic or deadbeat husbands, economic catastrophes, backbreaking labor. One woman, Ena, talks about having given birth to 14 children by the time she was 31, owing largely to the ban on contraception.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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    ‘Chaos: The Manson Murders’ Review: All You Ever Knew is Suspect

    Errol Morris returns to his main obsessions — evil and delusion — in a new Netflix documentary about the famous murders.Two recurring inquiries — scary ones, entwined — characterize Errol Morris’s decades-long directing career, which includes landmark documentaries like “The Thin Blue Line,” “Mr. Death,” “The Fog of War” and “Standard Operating Procedure.” The first question regards the nature of evil: what it is, where it comes from, whether it’s invited into a man’s heart or chooses to takes up residence there. The other is the fine membrane between truth and fiction, which dictates how we become deluded, by others and by self, and how those delusions come to rule the world.In Morris’s more recent work, those themes are brought together most sharply in “American Dharma,” a 2019 chiller in which Morris feeds ample rope to the Trump adviser Steve Bannon to explain his vision of the world and, in so doing, expose a kind of cruelly pompous vapidity. But other contemporary works by Morris — “Separated,” about policies that tear migrant children from their parents; “The Pigeon Tunnel,” about what the spy novelist John le Carré never really revealed about himself — are also held together mostly by these questions. At their heart is some primal fear: that evil, or evil people, can control us without our even realizing it. And for Morris, this is not a religious question so much as an existential and political one.Little surprise that his latest project, the Netflix documentary “Chaos: The Manson Murders,” returns to the same arena. Based, sort of, on the hair-raising book by the journalist Tom O’Neill, the film winnows its central question to one recurring baffler: Why are we, as a culture drenched in true crime narratives, so obsessed with this particular set of murders, which occurred over 55 years ago?Most likely you know the outline of the case: Charles Manson, the failed musician and wild-eyed hippie, ordered his “family” — drug-addled runaways, mostly, who had been living with him at a ranch full of old movie sets — to carry out a series of gruesome murders on the evenings of Aug. 8 and 9, 1969. Among the victims was the actress Sharon Tate, then eight and a half months pregnant with her first child. Her husband, the director Roman Polanski, was out of town at the time.The story includes all kinds of weird spiky bits, well-documented, from accidents and coincidences (who was there that night, who wasn’t) to Manson’s connections to Dennis Wilson of the Beach Boys and his worship of the Beatles to the bizarre behavior he and his acolytes exhibited during the sensationalized trial. O’Neill, in his book, goes deeper, raising the specter of various conspiracy theories about potential covert government operations that seem, with the space of time and some well-placed Freedom of Information Act requests, to at least have the potential of maybe being linked to the case.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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    Betty Bonney, 100, Dies; Her Song for a Yankee Star Was a Big-Band Hit

    “Joltin’ Joe DiMaggio,” which she sang with the Les Brown band, celebrated DiMaggio’s 56-game hitting streak in 1941. She also sang on Sid Caesar’s “Your Show of Shows.”Betty Bonney was already a veteran big-band vocalist at 17 when she joined Les Brown and His Orchestra in 1941 — in time to sing the praises of the New York Yankees star Joe DiMaggio as he was racking up his major-league-record 56-game hitting streak.While performing that summer at a club in Armonk, N.Y., in Westchester County, the band “got caught up in the streak,” Mr. Brown told Newsday in 1990, and “would announce it from the bandstand every night if Joe had gotten another hit, or if he was coming to bat late in the game still without a hit.”As DiMaggio piled up hits — from mid-May to mid-July — a New York City disc jockey, Alan Courtney, and the band’s arranger, Ben Homer, wrote a jaunty tune, “Joltin’ Joe DiMaggio,” which Ms. Bonney sang in her smooth, elegant style at the Armonk club while band members goofed around with baseball gloves, bats and caps, Mr. Brown said.The song was also heard regularly on the band’s radio show and released in September as a 78 r.p.m. record; according to Billboard magazine, it was the 93rd-best-selling single of 1941.The Les Brown band’s 78 r.p.m. recording of “Joltin’ Joe DiMaggio” was released in September 1941, two months after DiMaggio’s record-setting 56-game hitting streak ended.Diamond Images/Getty ImagesThe song starts off with Ms. Bonney asking, “Hello, Joe, whaddaya know?” to which the clarinetist Ben Most, playing the part of DiMaggio, replies, “We need a hit, so here I go.”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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    ‘On Becoming a Guinea Fowl’ Review: Watchful Eyes

    The heroine of Rungano Nyoni’s second feature keeps her cool even as she uncovers long-buried family secrets in Zambia.Shula, the watchful heroine of the quietly stirring “On Becoming a Guinea Fowl,” doesn’t seem cut out for bold gestures. She’s reserved, at times to the point of standoffishness and given to introspective silences. There’s admirable grace to her composure but also an air of practiced caution. The only really obvious thing about Shula is that she has recently returned to her comfortable, suburban family home in Zambia, and that she would clearly prefer to mind her own business. When a mystery reopens old traumas that, in turn, lead to a bruising cultural reckoning, Shula soon finds herself minding everyone else’s business, too.That discovery turns out to be the corpse of her Uncle Fred splayed on the road that Shula (the subtly magnetic newcomer Susan Chardy) is driving on one night. En route home from a party, Shula is wearing large sunglasses and a glittery silver headpiece that suggests a bedazzled ancient military helmet. She looks like a glamorous alien, which she is, in a way. When she steps out to look at the body, you see that she’s dressed in a ballooning black jumpsuit. If you inflated it, she could probably float away. Given what happens — and the mysterious girl who briefly materializes near the corpse — it’s a surprise that she doesn’t try.Rungano Nyoni, who was born in Zambia and grew up in Wales, knows how to make an entrance, and so does Shula. She’s a great character, and while her arresting introduction grabs you from the start, Shula keeps you tethered throughout. Hers is a story of discoveries both minor and monumental, one that’s flecked with troubling visions and an escalating sense of urgency. Shula keeps her cool until she doesn’t, and shortly after finding Fred’s body, she is buffeted by different forces, including her sprawling family, acquaintances and a complex patrimony that threatens to engulf her. (This is Nyoni’s second narrative feature; her first was “I Am Not a Witch,” a 2018 drama about a Zambian orphan accused of witchcraft.)Shula’s discovery of Fred’s corpse leads to a series of encounters, by turns comic and anguished, in a winding story about family secrets, cultural norms and generational trauma. It’s heavy, at times, painful, though not crushingly so. Much like her protagonist, Nyoni maintains an observant, quasi-analytic distance — the camerawork is suitably steady, calm — as the story grows more complicated and long-buried secrets are disinterred as the family arranges things. Even amid the growing emotional tumult, Shula keeps it together, which keeps the viewer at a remove. This gives you breathing and thinking space (you watch, too, and wait), but Shula’s coolness also leaves you unprepared for when she sheds her reserve.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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    Roy Ayers, Vibraphonist Who Injected Soul Into Jazz, Dies at 84

    He helped introduce a funkier strain of the music in the 1970s. He also had an impact on hip-hop: His “Everybody Loves the Sunshine” has been sampled nearly 200 times. Roy Ayers, a vibraphonist who in the 1970s helped pioneer a new, funkier strain of jazz, becoming a touchstone for many artists who followed and one of the most sampled musicians by hip-hop artists, died on Tuesday in Manhattan. He was 84.His death, in a hospital, was announced by his son Mtume, who said he died after a long illness.In addition to being one of the acknowledged masters of the jazz vibraphone, Mr. Ayers was a leader in the movement that added electric instruments, rock and R&B rhythms, and a more soulful feel to jazz. He was also one of the more commercially successful jazz musicians of his generation.He released nearly four dozen albums, most notably 22 during his 12 years with Polydor Records. Twelve of his Polydor albums spent a collective 149 weeks on the Billboard Top 200 chart. His composition “Everybody Loves the Sunshine,” from his 1976 album of the same name, has been sampled nearly 200 times by artists including Tupac Shakur, Dr. Dre, Mary J. Blige and Snoop Dogg. The electric piano hook from “Love,” on his first Polydor album, “Ubiquity” — which introduced his group of the same name — was used in Deee-Lite’s 1990 dance hit “Groove Is in the Heart.”“Roy Ayers is largely responsible for what we deem as ‘neo-soul,’” the producer Adrian Younge, who collaborated with Mr. Ayers and Ali Shaheed Muhammad of the hip-hop group A Tribe Called Quest in 2020 on the second album in the “Jazz Is Dead” series, which showcases frequently sampled jazz musicians, told Clash magazine. “His sound mixed with cosmic soul-jazz is really what created artists like Erykah Badu and Jill Scott. It was just that groove.“That’s not to say people around then weren’t making music with a groove,” he added, “but he is definitely a pioneer.”Mr. Ayers with the trombonist Wayne Henderson, a founder of the Crusaders, in 1977. Their recording-studio collaborations led to some of Mr. Ayers’s most significant albums.Gilles PetardWe 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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    ‘Picture This’ Review: Five Dates Away From Love

    Simone Ashley (“Bridgerton”) stars as Pia, a talented photographer in London navigating business pressures with her wish for independence in this vivid rom-com.Did the casting call for “Picture This” state that those without dimples needn’t apply? Most of the actors in this British rom-com — directed by Prarthana Mohan — have them. Especially the men orbiting Pia (Simone Ashley of “Bridgerton”), a talented photographer in London who is the hard-pressed business owner at the film’s center.There’s Jay (Luke Fetherston), her “gay bestie,” he says by way of an introduction, the co-owner of the 9th Mandala portrait studio; cardigan-wearing Akshay (Nikesh Patel) who works for Pia’s mother (Sindhu Vee) and Pia’s ex, Charlie (Hero Fiennes Tiffin). The former couple meet again when Charlie is included in the wedding party of Pia’s sister, Sonal (Anoushka Chadha).Written by the novelist Nikita Lalwani and based on the Australian movie “Five Blind Dates,” this twisty film finds Pia navigating her wish for independence and her business’ need for a cash infusion. Her mother promises a safety box of jewels for when she gets married, but Pia wasn’t planning on that possibility. The transactional and the traditional are wed when a jolly medium prophesies Pia will meet the love of her life in her next five dates.The title asks us to consider the film’s visuals. The palette here is vivid. Screens split — sometimes vertically, other times horizontally — all in the spirit of playfulness, while the music is a mix of international pop grooves. For all the potentially crushing challenges Pia faces — losing her business, not living out her dream of being a photographer, alienating her beloved younger sister — “Picture This,” keeps it light, never letting the sharp edges of potential failure come into focus.Picture ThisNot rated. Running time: 1 hour 39 minutes. Watch on Prime Video. More

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    Anne Imhof’s ‘Doom’ at the Armory Has Everything, and Nothing

    A Berlin nightclub habitué of my acquaintance has admonished me, more than once, not to go to concerts or parties without earplugs; too many D.J.s now crank to dangerous decibels, so have your fun and save your hearing. I forgot his advice ahead of “Doom: House of Hope,” an evening-length spectacle of attitude and abjection by the German artist and choreographer Anne Imhof, and may have developed tinnitus as a result.Your ears are not the only organs that may suffer if you come to the Park Avenue Armory, where Imhof’s massive performance work has been one of the most anticipated events of the winter season, and (thanks to its performers as well as its public) is already one of the most Instagrammed. You’ll start out in a corral with a thousand other spectators, prevented from moving forward by crowd control barriers. Expressionless, glassy-eyed performers will soon move toward you as a droning electronic score blares. You’ll be released to explore the whole 55,500-square-foot Drill Hall soon, but ticket holders should, like sensible Germans, opt for comfortable shoes: You’re on your feet throughout.Around the large hall are two dozen brand-new Cadillac Escalades, the preferred conveyance of the American oligarchy, whose roofs will become stages for limber dancers and mournful singers, and whose trunks will serve variously as pop-up bar, chess competition venue, vape break area and makeshift tattoo parlor. To follow the action of “Doom” you’ll have to chase the performers around the S.U.V.s, onto several stages, and even into the dressing rooms, while above you, on a Jumbotron scoreboard, the evening’s duration ticks down: three hours to go.The experience of “Doom” is indeed not unlike a night at the club — wending your way through a converted warehouse, losing your friends in the darkness, oscillating from moments of excessive emotion to total boredom. If you get bored, you can always look at your phone; to Imhof, your phone, and your boredom, are integral.A spectacle of attitude and abjection: the tale of Romeo and Juliet, told backward. Efron Danzig, below, and Toon Lobach.Cadillac Escalades become stages for limber dancers and mournful singers, with Lia Wang as Tybalt.This is a night of harsh contradictions, and I just can’t girdle my judgment into cheer-or-jeer format. “Doom” is narcissistic, frivolous, sometimes naïve — and still, despite all this, feels more important than a hundred cash-and-carry exhibitions in Chelsea. Its roughly 40 performers, who mutter in monotone when they aren’t just staring into space, indulge a youthful nihilism that is obvious and tiresome — until an extraordinary shift in the third hour (by which time much of the opening night’s audience had bailed), when they find grand, even Romantic purpose.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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    ‘There’s Still Tomorrow’ Review: An Updated Italian Heroine

    Set in Rome after World War I, this black-and-white feminist film directed by (and starring) Paola Cortellesi tells a nuanced story about domestic abuse.“There’s Still Tomorrow” is set in Rome after World War I, but it unfolds with timeless verve and romanticism. It’s the directorial debut of the Italian singer and comedian Paola Cortellesi, who also stars. This feminist dramedy tells a story about domestic abuse — echoing still-timely concerns about violence against women and toxic masculinity in Italy — in captivating, unexpected ways.Shot in silky black-and-white and paying homage to the stylized working-class films of Federico Fellini, “There’s Still Tomorrow” follows Delia (Cortellesi), a doting mother of three who is regularly beaten and surveilled by her husband Ivano (Valerio Mastandrea). The cash she gets from her various odd jobs goes straight into Ivano’s pocket, and should she drop a dish, leave the house without asking, or accept favors from the American soldiers stationed around town, there’s hell to pay.The film never shows the batterings directly. In one scene, it’s choreographed with the drama of a tango, and in most others, we take the perspectives of Delia’s children or the group of gossiping housewives perpetually stationed in the courtyard.Cortellesi, as both director and performer, doesn’t sink into miserabilism. The beautifully built-out sense of place, populated by memorable personalities (Ivano’s bedridden father; Delia’s best friend, who runs a vegetable stand; the mechanic with whom Delia is in love), demonstrates the richness of Delia’s life in an effortless balance of humor and tragedy. Bursts of slick contemporary pop music give an edge to her plight.Crucially, the plot revolves around the future of Delia’s teenage daughter Marcella (Romana Maggiora Vergano), who dreams of getting married to her wealthy boyfriend and leading a life unlike her mother’s. Delia, whom Cortellesi plays with weathered charm, strives to save Marcella — and ultimately herself. This struggle is carried out with larger-than-life dramatics and touches of fantasy that make the film, for all its grim, real-life parallels, something of an escapist pleasure.There’s Still TomorrowNot rated. In Italian, with subtitles. Running time: 1 hour 58 minutes. In theaters. More