Aurelia Butler

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    Review: An Absent Player in the Spotlight at the Philharmonic

    This week’s program was supposed to feature the orchestra’s principal oboe, but he and another player have been suspended amid misconduct allegations.It’s rare that the most significant music in a concert is a piece that isn’t played. But this week’s program at the New York Philharmonic may end up being remembered for what was omitted.The performance on Wednesday, conducted by Jane Glover, was supposed to include Mozart’s Oboe Concerto, with the solo part taken by the orchestra’s principal oboe, Liang Wang. But he and the associate principal trumpet, Matthew Muckey, have been benched by the Philharmonic since allegations of misconduct and assault against them resurfaced last month.In 2018, those accusations prompted the orchestra to fire the two men; the players’ union then appealed to an arbitrator, who reinstated them in 2020. Now, as another investigation has begun and Wang and Muckey have sued the orchestra, saying they’ve been wrongfully suspended, it is unclear when — and whether — either will play on the stage of David Geffen Hall again.Rather than replace Wang, the Philharmonic swapped out Mozart’s Oboe Concerto with his Symphony No. 13 in F (K. 112). Written in 1771, when its composer was 15 and on a tour of Italy with his father, the symphony — just 13 minutes long — has that easygoing, tossed-off eloquence that’s evident even in Mozart’s teenage works. The first movement is sprightly; the second, gentle, scored for strings alone; the third, graceful. Best of all is the lively triple-time finale, which evokes the long history of courtly hunting music, with an alluring short section in minor key.The Philharmonic had never performed the symphony before Wednesday, and under Glover’s baton it flowed with the same nimble, unaffected naturalness as the rest of the program: four pieces, including three Mozart symphonies, from the final three decades of the 18th century. Glover’s tempos throughout the concert were sensible and unexaggerated, with ample room to breathe but no dragging, and the playing was lovely — though the violins sometimes took on a slightly thin, wiry edge, highlighted by the cool clarity of Geffen Hall’s acoustics.In the work not by Mozart — Beethoven’s “Ah! perfido,” a concert scene from five years after Mozart’s death but still very much within the world of his opera arias — the orchestra provided sensitive accompaniment for the soprano Karen Slack. Making her Philharmonic debut, she inhabited the piece’s shifting moods, from anger at a treacherous lover to vulnerability to proud resolution, with strikingly clear high notes by the end.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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    ‘Aisha’ Review: Seeking Asylum in Ireland

    The “Black Panther” star Letitia Wright shows understated vulnerability in this immigrant drama by Frank Berry. Josh O’Connor (“Challengers”) also stars.When an administrator says “I’m sorry” at a shelter for asylum seekers in “Aisha,” the phrase has seldom sounded so galling. An exemplar of the upending power people can wield in bureaucracies, the administrator repeatedly makes things difficult for Aisha, a young Nigerian woman petitioning for permanent residence in Ireland.The “Black Panther” star Letitia Wright descends from the Marvel Cinematic Universe to give a quietly fierce performance as Aisha, an asylum seeker in the writer-director Frank Berry’s drama. The reasons for her request unfold during visits with her legal counsel, in video talks with her mother in Lagos and at the careful prodding of the shelter’s fledgling security guard (played with hangdog sympathy by Josh O’Connor of “Challengers”). All the while, Wright breathes deep vulnerability into Aisha’s unsurprising reticence.At the beauty salon where she works, Aisha’s rightly cagey as she listens to her customers. But at the shelter, she turns warm, when she gives makeovers to fellow immigrants. As he did for his award-winning prison film, “Michael Inside,” Berry used nonprofessional actors with intimate experience of the system — here, Ireland’s International Protection Office, which processes asylum applications — he wanted to depict. It’s a gesture that keeps the film from lapsing into melodrama.Will Aisha convince the decision makers that she cannot safely return to Nigeria? Will Aisha and Conor’s hushed friendship bud into something more? “Aisha” resists tidy answers through the gentle force of its performances and by staying on the rebuffs and uncertainty Aisha suffers.AishaNot rated. Running time: 1 hour 34 minutes. In theaters. More

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    ‘A Prince’ Review: Let New Passions Bloom

    Sex, death and domination fuel this beautifully enigmatic pastoral drama from France, which presents the gay coming-of-age of an apprentice gardener.It’s not immediately apparent how courtly intrigue figures in “A Prince,” Pierre Creton’s spellbinding French pastoral drama, though sex, death and domination hang palpably in the film’s crisp, Normandy air.Creton, a veteran director working at the margins of France’s film industry, looks to the divine powers and chivalric codes that fuel swords-and-shields epics like “Game of Thrones,” but whittles these elements down to a mysterious essence. A subtly medieval score — distinguished by the thrum of a mandolin and composed by Jozef van Wissem — draws out a surreal dimension. Eventually, the film shifts into explicitly sexual and mythological terrain with a B.D.S.M. edge, and the score keeps pace, taking on a folk metal vibe.The story is slippery by design, loosely tracking the gay coming-of-age of an apprentice gardener, Pierre-Joseph, played for the most part by Antoine Pirotte. Creton, who also works as a gardener in real life, plays the older version of Pierre-Joseph, so “A Prince” also reads as an autofictional memory piece.Throughout the film, a series of wordless and seductively austere tableaux, Pierre Joseph forms bonds with various individuals in his rural community. Multiple narrators, including Françoise Lebrun (“The Mother and the Whore”), speak in retrospect, as if looking back from the afterlife at the characters onscreen. These connections are tangled: for instance, Lebrun voices Françoise Brown (played by Manon Schaap), the head of a horticulture school. Yet Lebrun also plays the onscreen version of Pierre-Joseph’s mother.The effect may seem frustrating at first, but it ultimately feeds into the kind of alternative, communal lifestyle that the film showcases so beautifully.Pierre-Joseph eventually comes to form a throuple with Alberto (Vincent Barré) and Adrien (Pierre Barray), his mentors. The naked bodies of these much older gentleman appear suggestively weathered next to their younger lover’s sprightly form. Yet there is no mention of taboo. That passion could bloom in such spontaneous and unexpected forms is part of this enigmatic film’s potency.A PrinceNot rated. In French, with subtitles. Running time: 1 hour 22 minutes. In theaters. More

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    ‘Aggro Dr1ft’ Review: Glow-Stick Dreams and Thermal Nightmares

    Harmony Korine (“Spring Breakers”) parties too hard in this fusion of feature filmmaking and video game.A perennial provocateur with reliably adolescent interests, the filmmaker Harmony Korine does not make life easy for his apologists. At some point, maybe apologies aren’t in order. But for those who found unlikely poetry in the degraded-videotape stylings of Korine’s “Trash Humpers” or the neon nocturne of “Spring Breakers,” the director now offers “Aggro Dr1ft,” which depicts the ostensibly mind-altering odyssey of an assassin, Bo (Jordi Mollà), who calls himself the world’s greatest.Korine shot “Trash Humpers” on VHS, reviving a moribund format. For “Aggro Dr1ft,” his gimmick is to capture the entire movie with thermal imaging — as a starting point, anyway. The heat maps have been colored over with animation and assorted digital fussing that makes it impossible to discern relative temperatures with accuracy. (Are front and rear tires supposed to spin in different colors, or does that car need a mechanic?)Once again taking coastal Florida as a setting, the director makes the most of his glow-stick palette, filled with fiery yellows and aquamarines. “Director” may be the wrong word, though; the onscreen credit is simply “by” Harmony Korine, who has apparently forsworn any impulse to control his material. Using a synth score by the hip-hop producer AraabMuzik to give the proceedings a pulse, Korine thrills to hypnotic potential of cherry-red ocean waves, swoons over strippers whose intimate regions throw visible sparks, and dwells on Bo’s wife (Chanya Middleton) as she jiggles her rear end for the camera. Faces are scribbled over with robot doodles and skeletal X-rays. Gunfire registers as flashes of pure white.Whether it’s the thermal imaging or the augmentation, the visual style renders eyes practically invisible, leaving the actors without an important means of communication. (Perceptual psychologists, take note.) That absence might account for why “Aggro Dr1ft” is so unengaging on a narrative level, but the monotony might also have to have something to do with the protagonist, a hit man extraordinaire who is also (gasp) a family man. The world’s greatest assassin has been saddled with the world’s most sophomoric internal monologue. “I am a solitary hero. I am alone. I am a solitary hero. Alone,” he mumbles to himself in voice-over.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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    Andy Serkis and Owen Teague on ‘Planet of the Apes’ Franchise

    A conversation with Serkis, the star of the earlier films in the “Planet of the Apes” franchise, and Teague, the lead of the latest film, “Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes.”Noa, the hero of the new “Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes,” is no Caesar, the commanding, Moses-like leader of the Apes, played by Andy Serkis, in the preceding three movies in the “Planet of the Apes” franchise. Instead, Noa, played by Owen Teague, is a young chimp, tentatively poised between boyhood and manhood, intimidated by his father, the leader of the Eagle clan, and respectful of the troupe’s laws.But in “Kingdom,” (due May 10), Noa must face the same kinds of trials that Caesar underwent, and ponder the same moral dilemmas about the relationship between apes and humans, including the enduring question of whether peaceful coexistence can ever be possible. And his quiet brooding and subtle shifts of expression must register via performance capture — a complex process that records the movement and facial expressions of human actors and transforms them digitally into the faces of the apes.A scene from “Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes,” featuring Noa (Teague), Nova (Freya Allan) and Raka (Peter Macon).20th Century StudiosIn a video conversation, the director Wes Ball said setting “Kingdom” some 300 years after Caesar’s death allowed for tonal and narrative continuity with the previous movies, but also offered “the freedom to be brave and do something different. We’re an extension of the Ceasar legacy, but also our own story.”Then, he said, the biggest task “was finding a new Andy Serkis. There was so much anxiety around that idea.” But after seeing Teague’s physicality and facial expressivity in an audition tape, he said, he knew they had found Noa.Luckily, the original Andy Serkis was around to help Teague, mostly known to date for supporting roles, find his leading inner ape. In a video interview, the two men discussed working with performance capture, creating a detailed imaginary world for the characters, and a finding the right balance between human and ape in movement and speech. These are edited excerpts from the conversation.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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    ‘Gasoline Rainbow’ Review: We’re on a Ride to Nowhere

    This semi-fictional tale of a road trip for weirdos is full of joy.The thesis of “Gasoline Rainbow,” the latest cinematic fantasia from the brothers Bill and Turner Ross, is articulated in its first moments, in voice-over set atop a sunset. “Sometimes when I look at night, I see that light over the hills, and I just wonder what it’s like … to be there,” a youthful voice says wistfully. The speaker wants to know if they’re alone in being who they are — a “weirdo,” as they put it. “I want to be out,” they continue. “I want to be myself, I want to be accepted. I want to be loved for who I am.”Technically we’ve not yet met this person, but that doesn’t matter: We know them. The misfit outsider is a familiar character in movies and literature, and often possesses some wisdom that people trapped in the more conventional daily grind can’t see. There’s a tiny bit of the prophet in every outsider — and, of course, all prophets are outsiders.“Gasoline Rainbow” is a technically fictional tale of five such misfits who get in a car and go on a journey toward the Pacific Coast. I say “technically,” because like much of the Rosses’ work, there’s not much separation between reality and make-believe. Their previous film, for instance, the 2020 sorta-documentary “Bloody Nose, Empty Pockets” sets up a scenario — the final night at a Vegas dive bar, on the eve of the 2016 presidential election — and populates it with real drinkers, who have a real rager on camera. But the bar itself wasn’t technically closing, it wasn’t in Vegas and these people weren’t regulars there. What, you might ask yourself, are you watching?You are watching people figure out how to live at the end of the world, how to relate to one another and find joy in the middle of loss and uncertainty. Whether or not the scenario is staged, the human heart of it is absolutely real. “Gasoline Rainbow” is a little like “Bloody Nose, Empty Pockets,” in that the five teenagers at its center, playing versions of themselves, are looking for a “party at the end of the world” that they’ve heard about. But mostly they are there to be with one another, and it’s obvious their real personalities are part of the story.The five travelers — Tony Aburto, Micah Bunch, Nichole Dukes, Nathaly Garcia, Makai Garza — are all friends in Wiley, Ore. (a town which, incidentally, doesn’t exist). They’re seeking “one last fun adventure we can all do together” before they have to return home and get real jobs. These are kids who didn’t like school and didn’t like home life. In another movie, they’d be delinquents running from the law.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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    Cass Elliot’s Death Spawned a Horrible Myth. She Deserves Better.

    Onstage with her group the Mamas & the Papas at the Monterey International Pop Festival in June 1967, Cass Elliot, the grand doyenne of the Laurel Canyon scene, bantered with the timing of a vaudeville comedian. “Somebody asked me today when I was going to have the baby, that’s funny,” she said, rolling her eyes. The unspoken punchline — if you could call it that — was that she had already given birth to a daughter six weeks earlier.“One of the things that appeals to so many people about my mom is that there’s a certain level of triumph over adversity,” that daughter, Owen Elliot-Kugell, said over lunch at the Sunset Marquis Hotel in Los Angeles on a recent afternoon. “She had to prove herself over and over again.”Elliot was a charismatic performer who exuded infectious joy and a magnificent vocalist with acting chops she did not live to fully explore. July 29 is the 50th anniversary of her untimely death at 32, a tragedy that still spurs unanswerable questions. Might Elliot, who was one of Johnny Carson’s most beloved substitutes, have become the first female late-night talk show host? Would she have achieved EGOT status?Half a century after her death, her underdog appeal continues to inspire. Last year, “Make Your Own Kind of Music” — a relatively minor 1969 solo hit that has nonetheless had cultural staying power — became such a sensation on TikTok that “Saturday Night Live” spoofed it, in a hilariously over-the-top sketch in which the host Emma Stone plays a strangely clairvoyant record producer. “This song is gonna be everywhere, Mama,” she tells Elliot, played by Chloe Troast. “Then everybody’s gonna forget about it for a long, long time, but in about 40, 50 years, I think it’s gonna start showing up in a bunch of movies, because it’s a perfect song to go under a slow-mo montage where the main character snaps and goes on a rampage.”Cass Elliot performing on her television special “Don’t Call Me Mama Anymore” in September 1973. After she went solo, she found it hard to shake her nickname.CBS Photo Archive, via Getty Images“S.N.L.” didn’t make a single joke about Elliot’s weight — something that was unthinkable half a century ago. During the height of her fame, Elliot seemed to co-sign some of the jabs at her expense with a shrugging grin.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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    He Sang ‘What a Fool Believes.’ But Michael McDonald Is in on the Joke.

    The voice of Michael McDonald has been compared to velvet, silk and sandpaper, melted chocolate and last year, by a besotted 11-year-old girl, an angel. He has harmonized with the best in the business. But his latest duet might cause even the most Botoxed foreheads of Hollywood to furrow.“How you like us so far?” joked Paul Reiser, the actor and comedian, from one corner of a squishy sofa in McDonald’s Santa Barbara, Calif., aerie on a recent Tuesday morning. He was there to talk about the singer’s memoir, which they wrote together and will be published by Dey Street Books on May 21.In the other corner, emanating the equanimity that’s as beloved as his baritone, was the man whose 50-plus-year career has included backup vocals for Steely Dan, Elton John, El DeBarge, Toto, Bonnie Raitt and on and on — backup so extensive and distinctive it’s inspired playlists on Apple Music and Spotify. He was wearing a paisley-patterned shirt, black trousers and, as one might expect of an angel who must tread this cursed Earth, puffy Hoka sneakers.McDonald, 72, has also spent decades in the spotlight, albeit sidlingly, often with his famous blue eyes shut. (“Singing is such an intimate act,” he explains in the book, “and like kissing, it does no real good to see what the other person is doing.”) He led the Doobie Brothers in various iterations with his gospel-inflected keyboard style; released nine solo studio albums traversing multiple genres and continues to make live appearances at venues from Coachella to the Carlyle.Paul Reiser, left, with McDonald. The actor, known for “Mad About You,” said his musical collaborator is “very introspective.”Ariel Fisher for The New York TimesThe book is titled “What a Fool Believes,” after the Grammy-winning hit McDonald wrote in 1978 with Kenny Loggins, though with some hesitation. “I thought, ‘Well, that’s just too obvious,’” he said. “I wanted it to be something clever and mind-provoking, and I couldn’t really think of anything because, you know, I have a problem provoking my own mind.”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