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    Rico Wade, an Architect of Atlanta Hip-Hop, Dies at 52

    As one-third of the production team Organized Noize, Wade nurtured the careers of Outkast, Goodie Mob and Future from the confines of his mother’s basement, known as the Dungeon.Rico Wade, an architect of Southern hip-hop who produced albums for rap acts including Outkast, Goodie Mob and Future, has died. He was 52.The death was announced on social media on Saturday by the artist and activist Killer Mike, a longtime collaborator. No cause of death was provided.His family confirmed the death in a statement. “We are deeply saddened by the sudden and unexpected passing of our son, father, husband and brother Rico Wade,” the statement said. “Our hearts are heavy as we mourn the loss of a talented individual who touched the lives of so many. We ask that you respect the legacy of our loved one and our privacy at this time.”Wade, Ray Murray and Patrick Brown, known as Sleepy, formed the Atlanta-based production crew Organized Noize in the early 1990s, coalescing during an era when offerings from the East and West Coasts dominated radio and major label releases. Their work propelled the region from the fringes of the genre to a mainstay at its center.Barely out of their teens, the production crew welcomed aspiring musicians and artists into the basement of Wade’s mother’s home in East Point, Georgia, in the early 1990s. The cellar became known as the Dungeon with the artists who performed there, including the groups Parental Advisory and Goodie Mob, who emerged from it as part of the collective colloquially called the Dungeon Family.“I don’t know if you can imagine how weed and must and dirt would smell together, but that’s what it smelled like,” Dee Dee Hibbler, Outkast’s former manager, said of the Dungeon in the 2016 documentary “The Art of Organized Noize.”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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    Queer Women Behaving Badly: These Movies Scrap the Coming-Out Story

    “Love Lies Bleeding,” “Bottoms” and “Drive-Away Dolls” are leading a wave of stories about lesbians living their lives, committing crimes along the way.To a queer woman going to the movies, it may seem as if there has been something in the ether for the past year. First, in August, there was “Bottoms.” Then “Drive-Away Dolls” arrived in February. “Love Lies Bleeding” joined the fray in March. This cluster of relatively mainstream films about queer women, deliciously frothy and fun to watch, feels unprecedented.It isn’t, of course — film always has a precedent. But the latest titles are different. These movies lean into camp: heightened realities, suspended disbelief, larger-than-life plots. What’s more, queer women had a significant hand in crafting each release, and none of the movies involve coming-out stories. Their protagonists are already out, living their lives, committing crimes along the way.“I don’t think that these three films, even taken individually, could have quite existed in the pretty mainstream public sphere even a few years ago,” said Clara Bradbury-Rance, a film scholar and the author of “Lesbian Cinema After Queer Theory.” “At what point,” she added, “do you reach a sense that lesbians are represented enough to represent them in their badness and toxicity and irritation?”“Bottoms” follows two lesbian high school seniors, PJ (Rachel Sennott) and Josie (Ayo Edebiri), who start a fight club (sorry, self-defense club) as a ruse to hook up with cheerleaders. “Drive-Away Dolls” is a crime caper about unsuspecting friends, Jamie (Margaret Qualley) and Marian (Geraldine Viswanathan), who find a mysterious package in the trunk of their car during a road trip. And in “Love Lies Bleeding,” Jackie (Katy O’Brian), an ambitious bodybuilder, comes to town and falls for Lou (Kristen Stewart), a gym manager with a shadowy past.With their offbeat B-movie feel, these stories are “managing to mess with this dichotomy between the good representation and the bad representation,” Bradbury-Rance said, allowing us to think, “there are ways of finding pleasure in ambivalence and ambiguity and tension.”These films are part of a recent larger wave of lesbian stories that includes “Tár,” “Nyad,” “The Color Purple” and “Silver Haze,” and they stand in stark contrast to another recent cluster: the period dramas of the late 2010s. Think: “Carol,” “The Favourite,” “Portrait of a Lady on Fire” and “Ammonite.” Andrea Torres, one of the programmers behind the recent Sapph-o-Rama series at Film Forum in Manhattan, referred to this as the “lesbian saints era.” It even had its own “Saturday Night Live” sketch: “Lesbian period drama,” went the tagline. “You get one a year — make the most of it.”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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    Netflix’s New Film Strategy: More About the Audience, Less About Auteurs

    Dan Lin, the streaming service’s new film chief, wants to produce a more varied slate of movies to better appeal to the array of interests among subscribers.Back in, say, 2019, if a filmmaker signed a deal with Netflix, it meant that he or she would be well paid and receive complete creative freedom. Theatrical release? Not so much. Still, the paycheck and the latitude — and the potential to reach the streaming service’s huge subscriber base — helped compensate for the lack of hoopla that comes when a traditional studio opens a film in multiplexes around the world.But those days are a thing of the past.Dan Lin arrived as Netflix’s new film chief on April 1, and he has already started making changes. He laid off around 15 people in the creative film executive group, including one vice president and two directors. (Netflix’s entire film department is around 150 people.) He reorganized his film department by genre rather than budget level and has indicated that Netflix is no longer only the home of expensive action flicks featuring big movie stars, like “The Gray Man” with Ryan Gosling and Chris Evans or “Red Notice” with Ryan Reynolds, Gal Gadot and Dwayne Johnson.Rather, Mr. Lin’s mandate is to improve the quality of the movies and produce a wider spectrum of films — at different budget levels — the better to appeal to the varied interests of Netflix’s 260 million subscribers. He will also be changing the formulas for how talent is paid, meaning no more enormous upfront deals.In other words, Netflix’s age of austerity is well underway. The company declined to comment for this article.“Maestro,” starring and directed by Bradley Cooper, right, was produced by Netflix and cost around $80 million to make. It was nominated for seven Oscars, but did not win any.NetflixNow that Netflix has emerged as the dominant streaming platform, it no longer has to pay top dollar to lure auteur filmmakers like Martin Scorsese, Alfonso Cuarón and Bradley Cooper. It also helps that some of the big studios are again allowing their films to be shown on Netflix not long after they appear in theaters, providing more content to attract subscribers. The latest list of the 10 most-watched English-language films on the service featured six produced outside Netflix.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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    A.I. Made These Movies Sharper. Critics Say It Ruined Them.

    Machine-learning technologies are being used in film restoration for new home video releases. But some viewers strongly dislike the results.In 1998, Geoff Burdick, an executive at James Cameron’s Lightstorm Entertainment, was hunched in front of a 12-inch monitor at a postproduction house, carefully preparing “Titanic” for release on LaserDisc and VHS. A state-of-the-art computer process had made it possible for Burdick and his team to scour the film frame by frame, removing tiny imperfections embedded in the original negative: little scratches, flakes of dirt, even water stains that smeared the image. The computer could erase these blemishes using a kind of copy-paste tool, concealing the defects with information from another frame.Burdick, now a senior vice president at the company, told me that this process “seemed like freaking magic at the time.” And yet the results were not entirely well-received. “There were a lot of people who said that this was the most beautiful VHS they’d ever seen in their life, because we’d gotten rid of all that gobbledygook,” he recalled. “But there were a lot of folks who said, ‘This is not right! You’ve removed all of this stuff! If the negative is scratched, then we should see that scratch.’ People were really hard-core about it.”In the decades since, home video formats have reached higher and higher resolutions, with VHS and LaserDisc giving way to DVD and Blu-ray, and eventually to ultra high-definition 4K discs, known as Ultra HD Blu-rays. As the picture quality has improved, restoration tools have evolved with them, making it easier than ever for filmmakers to fine-tune their work using computers. Several of Cameron’s films, including “The Abyss,” “True Lies” and “Aliens,” were recently released on Ultra HD Blu-ray in newly restored versions that are clearer and sharper than ever before — the product of painstaking attention from Lightstorm and Cameron himself. “I think they look the best they’ve ever looked,” Burdick said.Bill Paxton with Schwarzenegger in the film’s streaming version, top, and the Blu-ray version. Details in the background and colors in the foreground are clearer in the new take.20th Century FoxBut as with the old “Titanic” home video, these restorations have proved controversial, with many viewers objecting strenuously to their pristine new look. What has caught the particular ire of critics is the fact that these versions have been restored, in part, using artificial intelligence. Park Road Post Production, the New Zealand company owned by the filmmaker Peter Jackson, helped clean up Cameron’s films using some of the same proprietary machine-learning software used on Jackson’s documentaries “The Beatles: Get Back” and “They Shall Not Grow Old.” The images in Cameron’s classic blockbusters were refined in a way that many felt looked strange and unnatural.The level of detail is eye-popping. Water looks crystalline; colors are bright and vivid, while blacks are deep and inky. Some surfaces, however, do look a little glossy, with a buffed sheen that appears almost lacquered. It can be hard to pinpoint what is changed. But there does seem to be a difference, and depending on the viewer, it can feel slightly uncanny.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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    Eleanor Coppola, Who Chronicled Her Family’s Filmmaking, Dies at 87

    She made documentaries of her husband Francis Ford Coppola’s “Apocalypse Now” and her daughter Sofia Coppola’s “The Virgin Suicides” and recalled their lives in books.Eleanor Coppola, a documentary filmmaker and artist who called herself “an observer at heart,” a description borne out through works chronicling the cinematic triumphs and ordeals of her husband, Francis Ford Coppola, and their daughter, Sofia Coppola, died on Friday at her home in Rutherford, Calif. She was 87.Her family announced her death in a statement, which did not state a cause.Ms. Coppola’s career as a documentarian began when her husband asked her to record the production of “Apocalypse Now,” his 1979 exegesis of the Vietnam War that took so long to make, some began calling it “Apocalypse Never.” By then Mr. Coppola was Hollywood royalty on the strength of his first two “Godfather” movies. But with “Apocalypse Now,” he stumbled.He came close to going broke as the movie, its roots in Joseph Conrad’s “Heart of Darkness,” ran way over budget and over schedule. Filming was slowed by steady rains on location in the Philippines, which served as a stand-in for Vietnam. A typhoon destroyed movie sets. Major parts of the script were written on the fly. Marlon Brando was overweight and underprepared for his role as a deranged Green Berets colonel. To top it all off, the film’s principal actor, Martin Sheen, had a heart attack during the shooting.As for the Coppolas, they careened toward divorce, a marital collapse set in motion largely by his sexual infidelities and frequent tantrums on and off the movie set. “My greatest fear,” his wife captured him on tape as saying, “is to make a really pompous film on an important subject, and I am making it.”Ms. Coppola had her own lapses. “If I tell the truth, we both strayed from our marriage, probably equally, each in our way,” she wrote in “Notes on the Making of Apocalypse Now,” a 1979 account of that period. “Francis has gone to the extremes in the physical world, women, food, possessions, in an effort to feel complete. I have looked for that feeling of completeness in the non‐physical world. Zen, est, Esalen, meditation.”Ms. Coppola with her husband, Francis Ford Coppola, in 2022. They had a trying marriage but remained together. Hunter Abrams for The New York TimesWe 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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    Sean Combs Sold Share of Tequila Brand for $200 Million

    Mr. Combs, who was accused of sexual assault in several lawsuits, made the sale as he ended his long-term partnership with the liquor giant Diageo. He has denied wrongdoing.Sean Combs, the music mogul whose business empire has been upended by recent lawsuits accusing him of sexual assault and a federal investigation, sold his half of the tequila brand DeLeón for about $200 million this year, according to a public report for investors.Mr. Combs, who has vehemently denied allegations of sexual assault and sex trafficking, came to prominence as a hip-hop impresario but amassed much of his wealth from other businesses, including through work with the liquor giant Diageo. Their partnership, which was thrown into turmoil last year before the sexual assault lawsuits, is now over.Diageo disclosed in a recent financial statement that it had agreed on Jan. 16 to buy the 50 percent stake in the DeLeón tequila brand from Mr. Combs’s company, Combs Wine and Spirits, “for a total consideration of approximately $200 million.”Mr. Combs’s work with Diageo began more than 15 years ago when he began promoting its vodka brand Ciroc. He purchased DeLeón in a joint venture with the company about a decade ago, leveraging his celebrity to promote the tequila brand on social media, in interviews and as a prop in music videos.According to a court filing in June by a Diageo executive, Mr. Combs — who has also been known throughout his career as Puff Daddy or Diddy — amassed nearly a billion dollars from his relationship with the company.But the mogul’s partnership with the liquor giant began to fray, spilling into public last year. Combs Wine and Spirits sued Diageo and accused it of typecasting Ciroc and DeLeón as “Black brands” that should be targeted only to “‘urban’ customers,” limiting potential growth.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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    Thursday Ends a 13-Year Break From New Music With a Pointed Song

    “Application for Release From the Dream,” which the band released Friday, marks the beginning of a fresh era for a group that helped bring emo to the mainstream.Thursday, the band once described as the “great screamo hope” for helping break the shouty punk subgenre into the mainstream with its 2001 album “Full Collapse,” has returned with its first new song in 13 years on Friday, “Application for Release From the Dream.” The title alone underscores just how drastically things have changed for Thursday and its peers over the past two decades: Emo has evolved from a niche concern to a form of classic rock, and the artists who put it on the map are now in their late 40s, navigating a very different kind of life.Geoff Rickly, the band’s gregarious, garrulous frontman, spent the past decade as a multitasker in Brooklyn’s art scenes before documenting his path to sobriety with his 2023 literary debut, “Someone Who Isn’t Me.” In the past, the band’s songwriting process might start with “a Times Square hotel and a bag of coke,” he said, and would likely end with the lifelong friends barely on speaking terms.“When we write, we fight,” Rickly, 45, explained in a video interview last week. But the band has enjoyed a détente since a 2016 reunion spurred by Atlanta’s Wrecking Ball Festival, a short-lived celebration of hardcore music. “I’ve been getting along so well with my brothers, I don’t want to fight any more.”Thursday — Rickly, the guitarist Steven Pedulla, 49, and the drummer Tucker Rule, 45 — got its start in the New Jersey hardcore D.I.Y. scene, playing basements and VFW halls, and rose to become one of the leaders of a movement where melodies were often secondary to raw poetics. Though the genre quickly devolved into often-unintentional self-parody, over the past 15 years, emo has been undergoing both a re-examination and a resurgence. A new generation has been drawn into its emotional eruptions while purposefully pushing back on its Warped Tour stereotype of white men writing vengefully about exes — reflecting the post-#MeToo climate by holding even the biggest bands accountable for their past offenses and elevating more diverse viewpoints.When Thursday posted a goodbye note on its website on Nov. 22, 2011, the band didn’t rule out live performances. “At the height of our thing where things are tense and there’s all this pressure, you go, ‘What would it be like to have a normal life?’” Pedulla explained. “And now all these years later, man, I’m really miserable when I’m not doing the band.”“Application for Release From the Dream” has been a work in progress over the past year, with Rickly shuttling back and forth between New York and the band’s New Jersey studio. The track builds from moody to explosive, striking a happy medium between Thursday’s strident early work and its final full-length, “No Devolución,” which presaged a pivot of former hardcore artists to shoegaze and dream-pop. But Thursday has no plans to make a true follow-up to “No Devolución,” describing its new model as recording and releasing singles as it writes them.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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    The Ultimate Judee Sill Primer

    A new documentary puts a spotlight on the ’70s musician. Listen to 10 of her essential songs.Greenwich EntertainmentDear listeners,I first encountered the music of Judee Sill a little over a decade ago, when, on a whim at a record store, I blind-bought a reissue of her 1973 album, “Heart Food.” It’s since become a favorite of mine — an LP that somehow marries the searching spirit of Laurel Canyon folk with the technical grandeur of Bach. Finding it impossible to settle on a single descriptor of her music, Sill once called it “occult holy Western baroque gospel.” In an interview featured in the new documentary “Lost Angel: The Genius of Judee Sill” (which is now playing in New York and available to rent on various streaming platforms), she says that what she aims to capture in her songs is “that moment of redemption, where the lowest thing and the highest thing meet.”Her life was full of those moments. By her early 20s, Sill had endured an abusive childhood and was struggling with a $150-a-day heroin addiction; one of the most succinctly characteristic facts of her youth was that she learned how to play gospel music when she was the church organist at her reform school. Following a stint in prison and the unexpected death of her only brother, she devoted herself with an almost religious fervor to becoming a great singer-songwriter.Sill is one of those artists who should have been more commercially successful than she was, and “Lost Angel” is filled with her marquee peers — Graham Nash, Linda Ronstadt, David Crosby — praising her talents and speculating why it didn’t happen for her. Maybe she was too obstinate or self-destructive; maybe her vision was a tad too strange for middle-of-the-road record-buyers in the early ’70s. Or maybe her record company was too focused on promoting other musicians. Sill was the first new artist signed to David Geffen’s nascent Asylum Records, and when the two brilliant albums she made for the label failed to find a large audience, Geffen transformed, in her mind, from a savior to a scapegoat. It was probably some combination of all of these factors that kept her music in relative obscurity, and after a series of unfortunate accidents that once again triggered her drug habit, Sill succumbed to her addiction in 1979 and died at 35.The two dazzling studio albums she completed during her lifetime, her 1971 self-titled debut and the even more compositionally ambitious “Heart Food,” were out of print when she died but reissued by Rhino Records in 2003. (Jim O’Rourke also mixed some of the unfinished material that Sill intended for her third album on a collection released in 2005.) The documentary features impassioned interviews with younger artists — Weyes Blood; Adrianne Lenker and Buck Meek of Big Thief — who have since discovered Sill’s music, making the case that she’s more popular and influential now than she’s ever been.Even so, Sill is hardly a household name, so I wanted to make today’s playlist an introduction to her bewitchingly beautiful music. You’ll hear highlights from both of her albums along with a transfixing demo and recordings of two other artists, the Turtles and Nash’s first band the Hollies, interpreting her songs.Sill believed deeply in music’s ability to comfort, transport and heal. So leave behind what ails you and, to paraphrase one of my favorite songs of hers, prepare to soar through mercury ripples of sky.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