Aurelia Butler

Norm Macdonald and Jay Leno made the double homicides such a constant topic that refraining from jokes the way David Letterman did was noticeable.The weekend after a jury found O.J. Simpson not guilty of murder, the comedian Norm Macdonald opened Weekend Update on “Saturday Night Live” at his desk next to a photo of the defendant. “Well, it is finally official,” he said. “Murder is legal in the state of California.”The 1995 trial of Simpson, who died Wednesday at 76, didn’t just dominate and revolutionize the media. It also became an unlikely staple of comedy. The details of the killings of Nicole Brown Simpson and Ronald L. Goldman were daily fodder for punchlines on talk shows, sitcoms and stand-up stages. And Macdonald cemented his status as one of the finest comedians of his generation thanks to a fixation on what turned into one of the largest comedy genres of the 1990s: the O.J. joke.In his 1996 breakthrough special, “Bring the Pain,” Chris Rock’s button-pushing analysis of the dynamics of the O.J. Simpson case helped change the course of his career. He argued that fame is what saved Simpson. “If O.J. drove a bus, he wouldn’t even be O.J.,” he said. “He’d be Orenthal, the bus-driving murderer.”The O.J. joke was so pervasive in the 1990s that not telling one could make you stand out. In the week after Simpson’s arrest, Howard Stern went on “Late Show With David Letterman” during the most heated era of the late-night wars and asked the host why he was avoiding the subject. “I’ll tell you my problem with the situation,” Letterman responded. “Double homicides don’t crack me up the way they used to.”Letterman eventually did tell some jokes about the trial, including a Top 10 list of things that will get you kicked off the jury (No. 1: “Keep frisking yourself.”). But his caution was in sharp contrast to Jay Leno, who went all in on O.J. jokes on the “Tonight Show.” A study that tracked his monologues revealed that Leno told more punchlines about Simpson than about any other celebrity, edging out Michael Jackson and Martha Stewart. In one running bit, he imagined the trial judge, Lance Ito, and the lead prosecutor, Marcia Clark, as members of a Broadway chorus line. In an even more perversely glib parody, Leno recast the murder trial as a sitcom using the theme song from “Gilligan’s Island” and portraying Simpson as the lovable title character. Was this sketch turning real-life tragedy into diverting entertainment or parodying it? Watching it now makes the difference seem pointless.Moments like Simpson trying on the gloves at trial became fodder for Jay Leno, Macdonald and other comics. Vince Bucci/Agence France-Presse — Getty ImagesWe 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

The French star is the subject of a series at Film Forum focusing on movies from the ’60s and ’70s, when he became an international sensation.When Luchino Visconti first saw Alain Delon, he is said to have cried out, “It’s him!” Visconti had found his Rocco, the tragic, tender soul of his next film, the 1960 family drama “Rocco and His Brothers.” One of the founders of Italian neorealism, Visconti apparently didn’t bother introducing himself to the young French actor. Perhaps he was tending to the tears that I like to think fell from his eyes when he saw his future star. I like to think that’s how everyone reacts when they initially see Delon, whose beauty has long inspired paroxysms of rapture.This is, after all, a star whose looks over the years have been described as sensual though also insolent, cruel, self-absorbed and androgynous, a word that helps explain why his beauty — as with that of other men whose looks threaten tidy gender norms — makes some viewers uneasy even as it sends others into ecstasy. (“My mother had to put a sign on my pram,” Delon once said, ‘You can look, but you can’t touch!’”) You may want to break out your thesaurus to find your own mot juste to describe Delon, now 88: A selective series that includes “Rocco” and 10 of his other films (he’s made scores more), opens Friday in New York at Film Forum.Delon opposite Annie Girardot in “Rocco and His Brothers.”Film ForumBorn in 1935, Delon had a rough early life by all accounts. After his parents divorced when he was young, he was placed with a foster family and later sent to boarding school. By 17, he was in the military and France’s war in Indochina. A providential trip to Cannes with some friends in 1957 soon found him in the sights of a talent scout working for the Hollywood producer David O. Selznick, who wanted to sign the actor to a contract but also work on his English. Delon instead stayed in France, kick-starting a prolific career that rapidly gathered momentum. By the end of the 1950s, he had become known as the French James Dean.You understand why when you dip into the series, which includes some of Delon’s most famous films and a few oddities, all culled from the 1960s and ’70s, when he became a huge star at home and then an international sensation. His breakout came when he played the sly, sinister Tom Ripley in “Purple Noon” (1960), a French thriller adapted from Patricia Highsmith’s novel “The Talented Mr. Ripley” and directed by Réne Clément. Much of the film’s appeal rests with Delon, a hypnotic, destabilizing presence whose stardom was sealed the moment Ripley peels off his shirt, baring his chest. He repeats this bit of striptease after committing his first murder, a distillation of Delon’s startling violent eroticism.The actor in his breakout role in “Purple Noon.”Film ForumWe 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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Alex Garland, the film’s writer and director, narrates a sequence from his movie.In “Anatomy of a Scene,” we ask directors to reveal the secrets that go into making key scenes in their movies. See new episodes in the series on Fridays. You can also watch our collection of more than 150 videos on YouTube and subscribe to our YouTube channel.In this sequence from the writer and director Alex Garland’s latest film, “Civil War,” about a modern-day conflict that has broken out in America, journalists making their way to Washington, D.C., stumble across a field set up with Christmas decorations. But the situation couldn’t be less festive. A sniper is set up in a house on a hill above the field. And men in uniform are trying to take the sniper down.Discussing the scene and its surrealist imagery in his narration, Garland said that in scouting locations, he and his crew came across decorations that were intact more or less as you see them in the film. He said they initially belonged to “a guy who’d put on a winter wonderland festival. People had not dug his winter wonderland festival and he’d gone bankrupt. And he decided just to leave everything just strewn around on a farmer’s field.”Garland’s aim for the sequence, he said, was to show that “when things get extreme, the reasons why things got extreme no longer become relevant. And the knife edge of the problem is all that really remains relevant.”Read the “Civil War” review.Read an extensive interview with Alex Garland.Sign up for the Movies Update newsletter and get a roundup of reviews, news, Critics’ Picks and more. More

The film examines the retailer’s tactics and is surprisingly similar to exposés about cults.What’s most provocative about “Brandy Hellville & the Cult of Fast Fashion” (streaming on Max), and about the horror show it contends is behind the immensely popular cheap-clothing retailer Brandy Melville, isn’t necessarily its content. Other documentaries have tread similar ground with similar methods — the Netflix documentary “White Hot: The Rise & Fall of Abercrombie & Fitch,” for instance — which is to say that everything in “Brandy Hellville” has been reported before.Documentary participants allege that the company and its leaders, especially co-founder and owner Stephan Marsan, engaged in a host of terrible behaviors ranging from fat-shaming and exploitative practices to really awful racism and sexism. Aimed at teen girls, the company’s marketing and messaging is to Gen Z what Abercrombie was to my generation: an aspirational brand designed to make you feel terrible about yourself, even if you were the skinny white girl in the pictures or working in the store. You can read about it all, of course; what the documentary provides is a host of eyewitnesses, including girls who worked in the store as teenagers and men who worked closely with the company to open new stores. Experts and activists also attest to the threat that fast fashion (that is, inexpensive, essentially disposable clothing sold at retailers like Zara, H&M, Shein and Forever 21) poses to global economies and the environment.The documentary also looks at the economic and environmental fallout from fast fashion.HBOBut the subtitle of “Brandy Hellville,” directed by Eva Orner, points to an interesting idea, even if it’s underdeveloped in the movie. Brands like Brandy Melville and their ilk resemble a cult, and even harness some techniques employed by cults to keep their “members” (in this case, high school girls, whether as customers or as workers) in line. The documentary shows how employees were flattered, and then shamed by the leadership so that each would want to be more of a “Brandy girl” (which, the film hints at, usually required disordered eating). There was a strict image projected for “Brandy girls,” which many of the former employees in the film detail at length. Being part of the group requires constantly giving your money and time (which is to say, buying marked-up, poorly made clothing, according to the documentary, and then posting pictures on social media) to stay in the group. At times, girls were isolated from family and friends. And as in a cult, there’s a small, secretive inner circle (in this case, Marsan and some cronies) that makes all the decisions. There’s also a whole weird thing related to Marsan’s obsession with Ayn Rand’s “Atlas Shrugged,” but I’ll let you find that out for yourself.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

The vehicle that Simpson fled in as 95 million Americans watched on television is on display at the Alcatraz East Crime Museum in Pigeon Forge, Tenn.Tyler Starrett was on vacation with his family in Pigeon Forge, about 35 miles from Knoxville in eastern Tennessee, when they learned on Thursday that O.J. Simpson had died.So they changed plans. They had heard that one of the key artifacts of the Simpson case happened to be on display nearby at the Alcatraz East Crime Museum: the 1993 white Ford Bronco that Simpson fled from the police in, just days after the murders of Nicole Brown Simpson, his former wife, and Ronald L. Goldman. They could not resist.“If the Bronco is here in Pigeon Forge, why don’t we go see it?” Starrett, 23, said.Starrett is too young to have been among the 95 million television viewers who watched the low-speed chase unfold on June 17, 1994, when a swarm of police cars followed the white Bronco over some 60 miles of Southern California freeways, with Simpson holding a gun to his head in the back seat. But he was among those who visited the museum to see the vehicle in person on Thursday, as a three-minute clip of the police chase played on loop in the background.Pigeon Forge, best known for Dollywood, Dolly Parton’s theme park, is at first glance not an obvious home for such a relic. But in recent years, this town has increasingly become a place for attractions and museums dedicated to the offbeat and believe-it-or-not interests of an American tourist — including the Alcatraz East Crime Museum, which is housed in a prisonlike building designed to be a cross between the Tennessee State Prison just outside Nashville and the original Alcatraz, in San Francisco Bay.Inside the museum, the white Bronco is one of several notorious vehicles.It sits alongside the 1968 Volkswagen Beetle that was owned by the serial killer Ted Bundy, the 1933 Essex-Terraplane used by the bank robber John Dillinger and the so-called death car from the 1967 movie “Bonnie and Clyde,” riddled with bullet holes. (A Pigeon Forge snow globe featuring the museum, the Bronco and the Beetle can be purchased for $10.99 in the gift shop.)“There are events in history that will always stick in people’s minds, and I think the O.J. chase is one of those for a large number of people,” said Ally Pennington, the artifacts and projects manager for the museum.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