Eliana Willis

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    Golden Bachelor, Boomer Bait?

    “The Golden Bachelor” is part of broadcast networks’ efforts to cater to their mostly older audience.In September 1985, a new hit premiered on NBC. The network envisioned a show like nothing else on TV. “Take some women around 60. Society has written them off, has said they’re over the hill,” the pitch to producers went. “We want them to be feisty as hell and having a great time.”The result, of course, was “The Golden Girls,” the beloved sitcom about a group of single women, widowed and divorced, living together in a house in Florida. The show was ranked in the Top 10 of Nielsen ratings for six of its seven seasons. More than 27 million people watched the 1992 series finale.Thirty-eight years later, ABC is betting that a house full of single women, ages 60 to 75, and the 72-year-old man whose heart they’ll vie to win, can achieve ratings success with the aid of mostly boomer-age viewers who still flip on the TV for the prime-time lineup, and have yet to fully abandon network television for streaming.I tuned in for Thursday night’s premiere of “The Golden Bachelor” at 8 p.m. sharp with high hopes. Buzz for the season promised we’d accompany a mild-mannered retired and widowed “grandzaddy” from Indiana on his quest for a second chance at love with one of 22 equally self-possessed bachelorettes. This sounded more my speed than the high-conflict carryings-on I usually associate with reality TV. Perhaps I’d be part of the showrunners’ hoped-for “new audiences who might have turned their noses up at the brand before now.”In the innuendo-packed first episode, we meet our bachelor, Gerry Turner, who spends the hour speed-dating the eager bachelorettes, including Leslie, a fitness instructor from Minneapolis who tells us she dated Prince; Sandra, a retired executive assistant from Georgia with a Zen practice that incorporates curse words; and Faith, a high school teacher from Washington State who rides in on a motorcycle, serenades Gerry with a guitar and seems from the little time we spend with her to be a leading contender for last woman standing.When the show opened with a scene of Gerry getting dressed, deliberately showing him putting in his hearing aids as he recounted the tale of his wife’s death over the strains of “The Wind” by Cat Stevens, I thought this might be a departure for the “Bachelor” franchise, a more serious examination of aging and mortality. But once we arrived at the mansion where Gerry canoodles with each potential sweetheart — a dizzying procession of bawdy jokes and canned repartee — I remembered that this was a reality show with a bonkers conceit that is about pure entertainment (and ratings). It may not end up being any more cerebral than its brethren, but that’s not its remit.So can “The Golden Bachelor” keep network television afloat through the imminent shortage of scripted shows occasioned by the writers’ and actors’ strikes? My colleague John Koblin says it’s “off to a decent start”: While far from the most-watched show of the week, the premiere episode was the most-watched show on network television on Thursday night and, with delayed viewing, the audience will only grow.But, more pressing for viewers, will Gerry ultimately find his soul mate? Who will get the final rose? And will people like me, still skeptical of love competition shows, tune in to find out?I was charmed to learn that one of the showrunners for “The Golden Bachelor” studied “The Golden Girls” for conversation topics should the repartee on the show start to lag. I’m holding out hope that we will see the golden bachelorettes in their chenille bathrobes and house scuffs, sharing a cheesecake in the middle of the night.For moreSee the moment in the NBC promotional special from 1984 when the “Night Court” actress Selma Diamond joked about an imaginary show called “Miami Nice,” a bit that inspired network executives to create “The Golden Girls.”Part of the networks’ continuing efforts to retain older viewers? Game shows.“Older daters face all of the challenges their younger counterparts do — burnout, ghosting, gaslighting — but many of them have found that dating can be infinitely better when you don’t have as much to prove,” writes my colleague Catherine Pearson of the roses and thorns of dating after 60.THE WEEK IN CULTUREMichael Gambon as DumbledoreJaap Buitendjik/Warner Bros. PicturesMichael Gambon, best known for playing Dumbledore in several of the Harry Potter movies, died at 82. Read how he inhabited the role of the beloved Hogwarts headmaster.A man was charged with murder in the 1996 killing of Tupac Shakur. Since his death, Shakur has become an almost mythical figure.A judge ended a legal arrangement between Michael Oher, the subject of the hit movie “The Blind Side,” and the people who took him in when he was a teenager. It had given them authority over his affairs.Amal Clooney, Anne Hathaway and Jon Hamm hit the fall galas in New York.After a lackluster debut for Helmut Lang in New York, the brand’s creative director, Peter Do, showed a better-received collection under his own name at Paris Fashion Week. In Milan, some of the most interesting looks were on the street.A meme of “King of Queens” actor Kevin James has taken over some people’s social media feeds, Vulture reports.Aerosmith postponed the rest of its farewell tour until next year because its lead singer, Steven Tyler, injured his vocal cords.Performances of Stephen Sondheim’s final musical, “Here We Are,” commenced this week. The composer died in 2021.Cher is accused of hiring four men to kidnap her adult son as an apparent form of intervention, The Los Angeles Times reported.Usher will perform at the Super Bowl. Listen to a playlist inspired by his hit “Yeah!”Electronic Arts, a video game publisher, released “EA Sports FC,” a rebranded version of its popular soccer series FIFA. Much of the game is the same, The Guardian reports.The French actor Gérard Depardieu’s art collection sold at auction in Paris for $4.2 million.The home of the French singer Serge Gainsbourg is open to the public, with everything as it was on the day he died.The eight remaining campuses of the Art Institutes, a system of for-profit colleges, will close by the end of the month.THE LATEST NEWSHiroko Masuike/The New York TimesHeavy rainfall pounded New York City and the surrounding region, causing flash floods, shutting subway lines and turning roads into lakes. See some of the hardest-hit areas.Senator Dianne Feinstein, the California Democrat who gained national stature in more than 30 years in the Senate, died at 90.Hard-line Republicans tanked Speaker Kevin McCarthy’s long-shot attempt to avert a government shutdown ahead of a midnight deadline tonight to keep federal funding flowing.A co-defendant in the Georgia election interference case against Donald Trump pleaded guilty to five charges, the first of the 19 defendants to enter a plea.The United Arab Emirates is giving weapons and medical treatment to one side in Sudan’s war under the guise of saving refugees.An I.R.S. contractor was charged with leaking tax return information believed to be Donald Trump’s.CULTURE CALENDAR📚 “Let Us Descend” (Tuesday): This book, inspired by Dante’s “Inferno,” is the latest from Jesmyn Ward, a two-time National Book Award winner and the youngest recipient of the Library of Congress’s American fiction prize. The novel follows an enslaved teenager named Annis as she travels through the pre-Civil War South after her white slave-owner father sold her. The book is among the most anticipated novels of the year.🎬 “Foe” (Friday): Paul Mescal and Saoirse Ronan, who are among the buzziest young actors working, play a married couple living on a farm in 2065 in this sci-fi drama. Their lives are upended when Junior (Mescal) is told that he’s been chosen to work on a space station. While he’s away, Henrietta (Ronan) will live with a duplicate version of her husband. — Desiree IbekweRECIPE OF THE WEEKLinda Xiao for The New York TimesTomato sandwichesAs September fades away, it’s time to celebrate some of the last of the good heirloom tomatoes by piling them in the sandwich of your dreams. While there are loads of variations to choose from, my tomato sandwich is probably the messiest, in the very best way. The recipe is a hybrid, combining the garlic-rubbed, oil-slathered toast of Catalan pan con tomate with the kind of slivered onions you would see in a tomato tea sandwich, and the bacon of a BLT. Act fast, because sad winter tomatoes will not do justice to a sandwich as good as this.REAL ESTATEHiroko Masuike/The New York TimesA dining table for six: Inside the Long Island City apartment of a best-selling cookbook author.A new frontier: As rising sea levels threaten coastlines, some developers look to floating homes.What you get for $1.4 million: A Cape Cod-style house in Monhegan Island, Maine; an Edwardian home in Evanston, Ill.; or an 1890 rowhouse in Washington, D.C.The hunt: These newlyweds want a three-bedroom house with a yard and a reasonable commute to Manhattan. Which did they choose? Play our game.LIVINGSimon Bailly/SepiaSelf-esteem: Want to believe in yourself? “Mattering” is key.Going solo: Make the best of attending a wedding alone.Elton John’s piano: Celebrity memorabilia and estate sales headline the coming auction season.Child of Birkin: The new standard-bearer for French-girl style just opened a store in Manhattan.Lessons from summer: Climate change is making travel season less predictable.ADVICE FROM WIRECUTTEREmergency essentialsWhen preparing for a natural disaster, no single strategy is right for everyone. But Wirecutter experts have found a few things to be true. When you put together a bag to grab in an emergency, don’t buy a premade kit. Instead, add gear that you actually need and know how to use. (Here’s a good place to start.) And it’s not just about the gear — simple tasks you can do today, like taking a CPR or first aid class, or designating a point person to be in touch with, can make a big difference. — Ellen AirhartFor more advice, sign up for Emergency Kit, an easy-to-follow guide to preparing for natural disasters from Wirecutter’s experts.GAME OF THE WEEKENDTaylor Swift at last week’s Kansas City Chiefs game.David Eulitt/Getty ImagesKansas City Chiefs vs. New York Jets: Taylor Swift and the N.F.L., two of America’s cultural juggernauts, pulled off a remarkable bit of brand synergy last weekend. Swift showed up in Kansas City to cheer on the Chiefs’ star tight end, Travis Kelce, whom she is rumored to be dating. The TV cameras, of course, cut to her constantly, and her exuberant celebrations brought life to an otherwise lousy game. Will she show up again this week? The N.F.L. surely hopes so — her presence would make this prime-time broadcast must-see TV, even if the game itself is another dud. (Fans who want great football without the spectacle should tune in earlier in the day to the powerhouse matchup between the Miami Dolphins and the Buffalo Bills.) 8:30 p.m. Eastern tomorrow on NBC.NOW TIME TO PLAYHere is today’s Spelling Bee. Yesterday’s pangrams were bootjack and jackboot.See the hardest Spelling Bee words from this week.Take the news quiz to see how well you followed this week’s headlines.And here are today’s Mini Crossword, Wordle, Sudoku and Connections.Thanks for spending part of your weekend with The Times. — MelissaSign up here to get this newsletter in your inbox. Reach our team at themorning@nytimes.com. More

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    ‘Billions’ Season 7, Episode 8 Recap: Going Nuclear

    Mike shows just how ruthless he is willing to be for sake of expediency.Season 7, Episode 8: ‘The Owl’Mike Prince is trying to do the right thing. A man for whom his wife, Andy, cares deeply has had a mountain-climbing accident in the Himalayas. He is injured and alone, in the path of a storm, running out of food and stranded on the Chinese side of the mountains.Mike has the resources to arrange a successful extraction, even under these physically and politically dangerous conditions. To rescue the man means risking an international incident and potentially ending his presidential campaign. Not to rescue him means the man will die, and Andy will lose someone who is more to her than a friend.So Mike does what you or I might like to think we would do under these circumstances. Risks be damned, he orders the rescue mission — confident that his seasoned pros won’t be caught but prepared to take the political hit if they do.At least, that’s the story it seems he’s telling himself, until circumstances on the ground change — or rather, until he changes circumstances on the ground.Despite his distaste for old-money blue bloods, Mike is dragged by his political adviser, Bradford, to a semiannual forest conclave for the rich and powerful called the Owl. In this secluded environment — clearly modeled after the Bohemian Grove, right down to the choice of its avian mascot — the nearly all-male elite can mix, mingle, urinate in the open air, go streaking through the snow, participate in tests of strength with offensive names and generally enjoy the rights and privileges of being right and privileged.There are two star attractions at this winter’s gathering, besides Prince himself. One is his chief political rival, the centrist Democratic governor Nancy Dunlop (Melina Kanakaredes, having a whale of a time playing a swaggering jerk). The other is the group’s ultimate political kingmaker and gray eminence, George Pike IV (Griffin Dunne, as quietly wolfish and menacing as a well-cast Imperial officer in a “Star Wars” project). Known to friends and foes alike as “Fourth,” Pike is there to decide which of these self-conceptualized common-sense mavericks deserves his backing.He gets his answer in the most horrifying sequence this show has seen since Bobby Axelrod paid a doctor to let a patient die. During a fireside chat in which Gov. Dunlop pushes for a nuclear-free world, Prince mocks the idea as hippy-dippy stuff and forcefully argues for the embrace of first-strike strategies. How would he know when to call down the fire? Well, he says, he would have to be sure, and being sure about things is why the people will want his finger on the button in the first place.Watching this room full of rich men discuss the incineration of millions as if they’re swapping fantasy football strategies is repulsive; there’s no other way to put it. It’s everything wrong with how decisions are made in this country, as wealthy people in no danger of facing consequences for their actions debate idly which lives are and aren’t worthless when stacked against the overriding importance of their own comfort and ambitions.Prince in particular talks as if he were purposefully demonstrating the wisdom of Chuck, who is also in attendance with his old-guard father; his friend and lieutenant Ira; and somehow, Charles’s personal Dr. Feelgood, Dr. Swerdlow. Chuck’s quest to stop Prince from reaching the White House — like the parallel sabotage campaign led by Wendy, Wags and Taylor — is predicated on the idea that no man this free of self-doubt belongs anywhere near power, let alone the kind of power present in the nuclear football. (A friendly but rueful conversation between Chuck and Prince as they pee against some trees hashes this point out directly.)Unfortunately for Chuck, Fourth doesn’t see things his way. In Prince’s tough talk about the bomb, Fourth hears a man willing to thumb his nose at the “nanny state” — a man truly made for a world where there is no black and white, no good and evil. Like many to-the-manner-born elites, Fourth is a natural constituent for a form of politics run by “big men with agendas — not the populace, not the rule of law and certainly not the voters.”Chuck leaves, visibly shaken. If self-styled guardians of the soul of the nation like Fourth don’t understand that they’re selling that soul by backing Prince, what hope does he have?Which raises another question: Is “Billions” the most chilling show on television right now? And I’m not talking about the wintry setting of this week’s episode. Like virtually every episode since Prince’s presidential ambitions became clear, “The Owl” casts an unflinching eye on the danger posed to American democracy by megalomaniacal strongmen, by the ultra-rich, and especially by the people who are both.In a sense, this is covered ground for the show. Chuck already took on billionaire overreach when he battled Bobby Axelrod for five seasons. His conflicts with the pointedly unnamed presidential administration in power in the show’s universe from 2017 to 2021, represented by odious officials like Attorney General Jock Jeffcoat and Todd Krakow, made a clear argument that authoritarianism, corruption and reactionary politics are correlated phenomena.But since Axe never got directly involved in politics, and since the former president was never depicted as an on-screen character, “Billions” has never had such an opportunity to explore all these issues up close by embodying them in one man. And in an episode that depicts the threat he presents in the starkest, most existential terms imaginable, it’s worth noting what that one man actually does.Mike Prince was trying to do the right thing, you remember. Even at the Owl, he, Bradford and Scooter hovered over his phone, listening for updates on the rescue mission. Then something goes south, just as the chopper reaches the stranded hiker: the Chinese military shows up out of nowhere, taking the man into custody and forcing Prince’s team to abort the mission lest they get involved in a shooting war with a foreign government.But here’s the thing: No one knows better than Andy that what Mike Prince wants, Mike Prince gets. If this rescue didn’t work, then, it’s because Mike didn’t want it to work. Confronted with this, Prince admits it: He tipped off the Chinese government and ended the mission after Fourth encouraged him to resolve the situation without provoking the Chinese government — or being seen as surrendering to them either.“You wanted him off the mountain,” he rationalizes half-heartedly. “He’s off the damn mountain.” The Himalayas are cold. Mike Prince is colder.Loose changeAs dark as this episode gets, there’s also a scene in which Kanakaredes and Rick Hoffman get on the floor and leg-wrestle with their shirts off. In general, when presented with two roads diverging in a wood, “Billions” takes the path more ridiculous, and that has made all the difference.To its credit, “Billions” has long presented sexual fetishism and kink not as a source of comedy (OK, not only as a source of comedy), let alone as a marker of deep psychological dysfunction. It has always been presented more as just a part of the sex lives of countless basically normal people (OK, normal by “Billions” standards). It picks up this torch again in a subplot involving Wags’s discovery that he has a certain scatological fetish that initially sends his wife, Chelz (Caroline Day), fleeing from the room. (“Stop saying words out of your mouth!” she stammers in one of the best lines of the night.) When Wendy explains to Chelz that the fetish represents Wags’s desire to be loved unconditionally, despite even the most repugnant parts of himself, Chelz is into it — but for Wags, the explanation kills the mood, like a magician revealing how the trick is done. And I call shenanigans! Figuring out why you’re into the weird stuff you’re into makes it more fun, not less.“I love breathing the same country air that Goldwater did.” Only Charles Rhoades Sr. could describe getting back to nature in these terms.“Ham can cram in with Woof,” says Charles at one point, referring to reshuffled sleeping arrangements among his Owl buddies. With nicknames like that, this is possibly the most “old-money Ivy League alumnus” thing anyone has ever said on television.When Prince learns the identity of Andy’s missing friend, whom he realizes is one of her open-marriage romances, he says flatly: “Ah, Derek. Good old Derek.” It’s good to hear the note of hurt and embarrassment in his voice; it’s an all-too-rare sign that he’s human.The episode ends with an image of hooded, chanting Owl members setting the towering wooden statue of their mascot ablaze. It’s a creepy image but also a gorgeous one. “Billions” is a very good-looking show; I can think of a few fantasy epics that could learn a thing or two from how it shot those cloaked figures in the torch-lit snow. More

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    In ‘Big Trip,’ an Exiled Russian Director Asks: What Makes Us Human?

    Dmitry Krymov’s two shows at La MaMa thrillingly stress the porosity of the line between life and storytelling.The Russian theatermaker Dmitry Krymov’s “Big Trip,” two shows in repertory through mid-October at La MaMa, in Manhattan, is in love with the very essence of theater: how we tell stories, how we make art, how we live.The productions have no sets to speak of. The costumes and props look as if they have been sourced from thrift shops and Home Depot — one piece makes extensive use of cardboard. Yet we are far from the usual Off Off Broadway seen at incubators like the Brick. The framework here — Pushkin, Hemingway and O’Neill — is drawn from high art, or at least classics some might deem musty. Flares of whimsy, as when the actors don red clown noses, might feel rather European to locals more accustomed to irony. It is safe to say there is nothing else like this on New York stages right now.This is all very much of a piece for Krymov, but also new territory for him.Back in Moscow, this acclaimed writer, director and visual artist had access to fairly generous budgets, presented work at fancy institutions and taught his craft to avid students. He earned accolades and traveled the world, including to our shores to present “Opus No. 7” at St. Ann’s Warehouse in Brooklyn (2013), “The Square Root of Three Sisters” at Yale University (2016) and “The Cherry Orchard” at the Wilma Theater in Philadelphia. After that last production’s run ended in spring 2022, Krymov refused to return home because Russia had attacked Ukraine.Now living in New York, he runs Krymov Lab NYC, an iteration of his Moscow workshop, and collaborates with an English-speaking ensemble. “Big Trip,” their first official outing, consists of the distinct pieces “Pushkin ‘Eugene Onegin’ in Our Own Words,” a retooling of one of his Moscow productions; and “Three Love Stories Near the Railroad,” based on two of Hemingway’s short stories, “Hills Like White Elephants” and “A Canary for One,” and scenes from Eugene O’Neill’s “Desire Under the Elms.”Krymov does not so much stage classic works as filter them through prisms like memory, notions of cultural heritage and identity, and the very process of theatermaking. (It’s mind-boggling that, according to Tatyana Khaikin, a lead producer of Krymov Lab NYC, none of the city’s established companies have invited him to do a show.)In “Onegin,” the stronger of the two works, Russian immigrants (Jeremy Radin, Jackson Scott, Elizabeth Stahlmann and Anya Zicer) guide the audience through a retelling of Pushkin’s 19th-century masterpiece about high-society youths facing the demands of love.Kwesiu Jones, left, and Tim Eliot in “Three Love Stories Near the Railroad,” in a segment that adapts Eugene O’Neill’s “Desire Under the Elms.”Steven PisanoThey begin by explaining the basics of theater then re-enact scenes from “Eugene Onegin” while essentially annotating the text (throughout both shows, Krymov repeatedly breaks the fourth wall to stress the porosity of the line between life and theater). The central character is a dandy afflicted with spleen, which “is like having American blues,” we are told. “But even worse — it’s having the Russian blues.” (Reflecting on such differences is a Krymov forte: His astonishing memory play “Everyone Is Here,” which is on the streaming platform Stage Russia, intersperses scenes from “Our Town” with the impact a touring American production had on him in the 1970s.)The issue of watching an exiled Russian director’s work while his country is waging war against Ukraine is actually raised in “Onegin,” which is interrupted by a harangue directed at the cast: “You can’t hide behind your beautiful Russian ‘culture’ anymore. Your culture means destruction and death, and all of your Pushkins, your Dostoevskys and Chekhovs cannot save you.” The show resumes, but the trouble among theatergoers feels real, and so are the questions that have been raised. Should Thomas Mann not have been able to publish in America after he fled Nazi Germany, for example?The outburst is also representative of the constant interrogation of the source material, all the while reaching deep into its core and extracting the marrow — what makes us human.The trickiest of the three segments in “Three Love Stories Near the Railroad” is O’Neill’s “Desire Under the Elms,” which will be cryptic for those unfamiliar with the play’s premise and characters. Yet the action is magnetic because of the director’s ability to create absorbing theater in an elemental way, often through deceivingly simple devices. The father and son Ephraim and Eben (Kwesiu Jones and Tim Eliot), using stilts, tower over Abbie (Shelby Flannery), the woman who has upended their lives. It’s a stark representation of power and its often illusory appearance that peaks in a stunning visualization (that I won’t spoil) of Abbie and Eben’s tortured relationship.In the same show’s “A Canary for One,” the unrolling of a painted sheet suggests passing scenery seen from a train. It’s easy to get lost in the action, despite the fourth-wall breaking. Introducing “Desire,” Radin wondered where the train was. A whistle blew. “It’s very far away, and behind you,” he told us. I knew the train could not possibly be there, and yet I turned around and looked. I’d bought it all. More

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    Netflix’s ‘One Piece’ Shines Brightest With Its Casting

    Netflix’s breakout global hit does right by its characters by getting actors who capture the spirit of the original.When Iñaki Godoy smiles as Monkey D. Luffy in Netflix’s live-action adaptation of the beloved anime “One Piece,” his face broadens and brightens and his eyes pop with boyish delight. No combination of physical attributes and fancy effects could replicate Luffy’s doofy 2D ear-to-ear half-moon grin in the animated original. But Godoy gets pretty damn close.Say what you will about the show overall (I’d say it’s a perfectly tolerable reimagining of an overrated series), “One Piece” excels at capturing the spirit of the original, primarily through the depictions of its motley crew of pirate-protagonists in a quest for a treasure called the One Piece. This success is indicative of a wider trend that might help anime fans — who’ve been traumatized with years of godawful adaptations of their favorite series — sleep better at night. Recent live-action anime adaptations like “One Piece” are slowly but surely improving the genre, and it all starts with casting.Emily Rudd, who plays Nami, a cunning thief who hates pirates yet still joins Luffy’s crew, channels the wit and relentlessness of the original character — with more bite. Mackenyu Arata, as the cantankerous, heavy-drinking swordsman Roronoa Zoro, masters the fighter’s disaffected glare and confidence, while also pulling off the identical bang-arrangement of his animated counterpart’s green hair. (Mackenyu’s emerald mane isn’t quite the same shade as Zoro’s mint ’do, but potato-potahto.) Jacob Romero Gibson brings emotional grounding to the silly pathological liar Usopp, and Taz Skylar, who had no martial arts training before filming, performed all of his own kicks as the flirtatious cook Sanji.Godoy as Monkey D. Luffy in “One Piece.”NetflixGood casting in live-action anime adaptations shouldn’t be taken for granted; in fact, it’s been the reason that several have crashed and burned. The most notorious example may be the “Ghost in the Shell” film from 2017, starring Scarlett Johansson as a whitewashed version of the protagonist, Major Motoko Kusanagi. But that casting flub was about more than just skin color; the choice was an erasure of a foundational element of the original, in which the character, setting and philosophy are all based in East Asian culture and ideas. And there have been many others: “Dragonball: Evolution,” “The Last Airbender” and Netflix’s 2017 “Death Note” film. In each movie, the casting revealed how the adaptation only showed a cursory understanding of the context around the original series.Totally reinterpreting the characters or opting for unconventional casting can be especially problematic in shonen (the popular, typically mainstream anime targeted toward young boys, e.g., “One Piece,” “Dragonball,” “Naruto,” “Pokémon”). These series, which often feature fantastical lands, repetitive arcs and steadily escalating boss battles, are ultimately centered around the colorful protagonists and their sense of kinship and camaraderie.Netflix’s last big anime adaptation, “Cowboy Bebop,” made several missteps, but the show’s lead cast was not one of them. John Cho, Mustafa Shakir and Daniella Pineda not only embodied their characters aesthetically — as in Cho’s impressive coiffure matching Spike’s mad mop of hair — but also in the way they spoke and even walked. (Just look at Cho sauntering through the dusty western-style towns in space.)Monkey D. Luffy in a scene from the anime series “One Piece,” created by Eiichiro Oda.Shueisha/Toei AnimationThe bungled anime adaptations represent an unfortunate hangup of American studios and creators: distrust that these stories can translate unless they’re westernized. Settings change. Characters’ back stories are altered. Recurring jokes, anime tropes and cultural references are lost for being too inside-baseball for an American audience. The result, like “Cowboy Bebop,” is too often a perverted version of the anime, both too distant from the original story and too literal an approximation of an animated medium whose visual style and humor become cheesy when brought to life.The hopeful view is that “One Piece” is marking a change in the tide — yes, ocean pun intended — for American adaptations. Netflix in particular is trying to reach anime fans with an impressive list of live-action adaptations slated for the future: “Avatar: The Last Airbender,” a new “Death Note,” “Yu Yu Hakusho,” “My Hero Academia” and, of course, more “One Piece,” after the show rose to the top of Netflix’s charts immediately upon its release.Perhaps by the time the straw hat pirates return in Season 2 there will be more good adaptations to speak of, not just in terms of casting but in the writing, filming, world-building and everything else that brought fans to the original series in the first place. If not — well, there’s about a century worth of cute, horrifying, sad, funny, surreal anime to watch out there. Take your pick. More

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    Disney’s Thomas Schumacher Takes on New Broadway Role

    The longtime head of the company’s theater operations is becoming the division’s chief creative officer, relinquishing his role overseeing its business operations.Thomas Schumacher, the longtime head of Disney’s theatrical arm, a key force behind “The Lion King,” and one of the most powerful people on Broadway, is relinquishing his role overseeing the division’s business operations and stepping into a purely creative role.Schumacher, who is 65 and currently holds the titles of president and producer of Disney Theatrical Group, told his staff on Thursday morning that he will take on a new role as the division’s chief creative officer. His two closest deputies, Andrew Flatt and Anne Quart, will now jointly run the unit as executive vice presidents.Disney has for three decades been the biggest corporate player on Broadway, and it remains an enormously significant factor in the industry. “The Lion King,” which has been running on Broadway for 25 years, regularly outsells its competitors — last week it was, as it often has been, the top-grossing show.Schumacher’s portfolio has included not only Disney’s Broadway shows — “The Lion King” and “Aladdin” at the moment — but also its many touring productions as well as Disney on Ice. His first Broadway credit was in 1997 (as a producer of Disney’s “King David”) and he has since become an important figure in the Broadway community, at one point serving as chairman of the Broadway League, which is the trade organization of producers and theater owners.The move comes at a time when many of Disney’s divisions have been struggling. The theatrical group is small by Disney standards, and although it has had its share of disappointments, its current shows are selling strongly even while most other Broadway shows are not.According to a memo Schumacher sent to his staff, Flatt will have the additional title of managing director, and will oversee strategy and business operations. Quart’s portfolio will include producing and development; she will serve as executive producer of all shows.Disney has not brought a new show to Broadway since 2018, when “Frozen” arrived to chilly reviews. Since that time, Disney acquired 21st Century Fox assets, which gave the company access to a vast new trove of titles.One possible next Disney musical appears to be a stage adaptation of “The Greatest Showman” — the company held a workshop for the show earlier this year, but that production is still relatively early in its development process. Disney has also been continuing to work on its stage adaptation of “Hercules” — after productions directed by Lear deBessonet in Central Park, as part of the Public Theater’s Public Works program, and at the Paper Mill Playhouse, the company is planning a new version in Germany directed by Casey Nicholaw next spring. More

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    in Theater

    ‘Purlie Victorious’ Review: Leslie Odom Jr. Shines in Revival

    Ossie Davis’s 1961 play is no period piece, as a blazing and hilarious revival starring Leslie Odom Jr. testifies.Two years before he made his “I Have a Dream” speech at the March on Washington in 1963, Martin Luther King Jr. attended the 100th performance of “Purlie Victorious” at the Cort Theater on Broadway. He knew the playwright, Ossie Davis, and his wife, Ruby Dee, from their work in the civil rights movement.Now the couple were starring in Davis’s raucous comedy about a stem-winding Black preacher from Georgia. It would not have been lost on the stem-winding King, likewise from Georgia, that he and “Purlie Victorious” had something in common. They were, after all, in the same fight against racism — in the play’s case by laughing it to death.And yet, did it die? If it did, why are we still laughing?The “Purlie Victorious” that opened on Wednesday at the Music Box — unaccountably its first Broadway revival — is every bit as scathingly funny as the 1961 reviews said it was. (In The New York Times, Howard Taubman called it “exhilarating,” “uninhibited” and “uproarious,” all in the first three paragraphs.) But even though times have surely changed — for one thing, the Cort Theater is now the James Earl Jones — everything dark in the play is still dark, and the lightness no less necessary. There’s a reason the setting, however old-timey it may appear on the surface, is still called “the recent past.”Kenny Leon’s thrillingly broad and warp-speed production aims to keep us in both time zones at once. To do so he begins on a note of contemporary welcome as the actors walk onstage companionably to don the jackets and aprons they’ll wear in the play, as if they’d just come from the street. Among them, Leslie Odom Jr. instantly stands out, not just for the spiffy suit he’s wearing (the terrific costumes are by Emilio Sosa) but also for his wolfish impatience to get going. His Purlie, we sense, will be more than a preacher: He will be a prosecutor.Two thefts are in his sights. One is perhaps a petty larceny: The $500 left to Purlie’s Aunt Henrietta by the white woman in whose home she worked has not come rightfully into his hands. Instead, with Henrietta and her daughter, Cousin Bee, both dead, the sum has been waylaid by Ol’ Cap’n Cotchipee, the owner of the cotton plantation on which Purlie grew up with his brother, Gitlow (Billy Eugene Jones). Though a pittance to the rich Ol’ Cap’n (Jay O. Sanders), the $500 is a fortune to Purlie, who plans to use it to buy and restore Big Bethel church, where his grandfather once preached. He wants his inheritance in both senses, the cash and the pulpit.Odom carries the play’s weight as it shifts genres, revealing further layers of character, while Young proves to be a daring comedian unafraid to go as far as the part takes her, our critic writes.Sara Krulwich/The New York TimesThe other theft, at the heart of the play’s power and yet also its comedy, is much larger: the theft of the freedom of generations of Black Americans.It was a practical yet risky choice to weld the outrage over one to the farce of the other. And make no mistake, starting with the subtitle (“A Non-Confederate Romp Through the Cotton Patch”), Davis’s farce is full-throttle, blending lowbrow physical humor straight out of vaudeville with traditions of Black satire and classic social comedy like “Pygmalion.” So when Purlie recruits “a common scullion” named Lutiebelle Gussie Mae Jenkins to impersonate the college-educated Bee and claim the inheritance, you know something will go vastly wrong. Indeed, bedazzled by the preacher’s attention and overwhelmed by the job, Lutiebelle starts to improvise, leading the plan cartoonishly awry.Originally played by Dee, and now by Kara Young, Lutiebelle is a rich creation, sweet and hungry, down-home and dirty. Young, a two-time Tony nominee known mostly for dramatic roles (“Halfway Bitches Go Straight to Heaven,” “The New Englanders,” “All the Natalie Portmans”), is also a daring comedian, finding in Lutiebelle a cross between Lucille Ball and Moms Mabley. That she is not afraid to go as far as the part can take her — with a gawky pigeon-toed gait and hilariously lustful line readings in a taffy-pulled Southern accent — is a sign of the freedom the play gives her (and everyone else) to represent a character instead of a race.As a result, some touchy old stereotypes, appropriated by whites and perverted as minstrelsy, are reclaimed and reframed. Gitlow’s shucking and jiving is, in Jones’s performance, very clearly a performance itself: a way of getting around the obtuseness of overlords. His wife, Missy, played by Heather Alicia Simms, turns classic one-dimensional stage sass into complicated warmth. Vanessa Bell Calloway’s Idella, a cook who works for Ol’ Cap’n and might in other contexts be framed as a Mammy figure, here has a freedom fighter’s acuity. And even Ol’ Cap’n himself, the snarling villain of the piece, is taken down gently: “Put kindness in your fingers,” Purlie instructs a pallbearer. “He was a man — despite his own example.”But it’s Odom who carries the play’s weight as it shifts from genre to genre and reveals further layers of character. Part of the freedom Davis took for himself, and that Leon emphasizes in his staging, is the right to be many things at once, not all of them reputable.Odom, with the angry intensity of his Burr from “Hamilton,” does not shy from Purlie’s scoundrelly side, his willingness to lie, even to loved ones, as a means of putting down a marker on eventual truth. And yet when it comes time to preach, watch out. The way he winds speeches into sermons and sermons nearly into songs makes it seem natural that “Purlie Victorious,” written partly in blank verse, would be turned into a musical. It nearly was one already.Was it also a loving dig at the great orator himself? Davis disagreed with King about nonviolence but could hardly dispute his silver-tongued leadership. And in “Purlie” he seemed to give Kingism a chance. After mercilessly mocking the trope of the Great White Savior, he allows Charlie Cotchipee, the weakling son of Ol’ Cap’n — a role played by Alan Alda in 1961 and Noah Robbins now — to save the day and redeem his race.“We still need togetherness; we still need each otherness,” Purlie preaches in the final, forgiving moments of this necessary revival, as Derek McLane’s set undergoes a miraculous transformation from shack to temple. And then Purlie adds, “Do what you can for the white folks.”Speaking as one, they did.Purlie VictoriousThrough Jan. 7 at the Music Box, Manhattan; purlievictorious.com. Running time: 1 hour 40 minutes. More

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    in Television

    Emma Thompson Is Right: The Word ‘Content’ Is Rude

    The term may be popular in an age of blurring lines between platforms, but the Hollywood strikes have shown how the phrase can devalue creative work.Over the past couple of years, I’ve spent a disproportionate amount of time thinking about a scene from the 1986 Rodney Dangerfield vehicle “Back to School.” He stars as Thornton Melon, a self-made millionaire entrepreneur who, per the title, returns to finish his university education alongside his freshman son. On the first day of his intro to business course, Professor Philip Barbay (Paxton Whitehead) explains that they’ll spend the semester creating and running a fictional manufacturing company. “What’s the product?” asks the pragmatic Melon, who won’t let the point drop.“Let’s just say they’re widgets,” snaps the professor.“What’s a widget?” asks Melon.“It’s a fictional product,” Barbay replies. “It doesn’t matter.”At some point a few years back, an unholy union of like-minded tech bros, studio suits, media water-carriers and social media personalities settled on their own “widget,” a catchall phrase that would both encompass and minimize the various forms of entertainment they touch: “content.” And when news broke on Sunday night that the monthslong Writers Guild of America strike was coming to an end, Variety, the industry bible, gave this term its most skin-crawling deployment to date, noting that the W.G.A. strike had taken “a heavy toll across the content industry.”“No, absolutely not,” tweeted the TV writer and comedian Mike Drucker. “We’re not calling it ‘the content industry’ now, you psychopaths.”In fact, Variety itself had run, just a few days earlier, a pointed rebuke to the term from no less an authority than the Oscar-winning actor and screenwriter Emma Thompson. “To hear people talk about ‘content’ makes me feel like the stuffing inside a sofa cushion,” she said at the Royal Television Society conference in Britain last week.“It’s just a rude word for creative people,” she added. “I know there are students in the audience: You don’t want to hear your stories described as ‘content’ or your acting or your producing described as ‘content.’ That’s just like coffee grounds in the sink or something.”Thompson’s not only right about the implications of the phrasing. She’s right about the real-world impact of what is, make no mistake, a devaluing of the creative process. Those who defend its use will insist that we need some kind of catchall phrase for the things we watch, as previously crisp lines have blurred between movies and television, between home and theatrical exhibition and between legacy and social media.But these paradigm shifts require more clarity in our language, not less. A phrase like “streaming movie” or “theatrical release” or “documentary podcast” communicates what, where and why with far more precision than gibberish like “content,” and if you want to put everything under one tent, “entertainment” is right there. But studio and streaming executives, who are perhaps the primary users and abusers of the term, love to talk about “content” because it’s so wildly diminutive. It’s a quick and easy way to minimize what writers, directors and actors do, to act as though entertainment (or, dare I say it, art) is simply churned out — and could be churned out by anyone, sentient or not. It’s just content, it’s just widgets, it’s all grist for the mill. Talking about “entertainment” is dangerous because it takes talent to entertain; no such demands are made of “content,” and the industry’s increasing interest in the possibilities of writing via artificial intelligence (one of the sticking points of the writers’ strike) makes that crystal clear.Perhaps the finest example of this school of thought can be seen at Warner Bros. Discovery, where David Zaslav ascended to the throne of chief executive by overseeing the Discovery Channel’s transition from nature documentaries to reality swill. The “content”-ization of that conglomerate’s holdings is the only reasonable explanation for the decision to rename HBO Max as simply Max — removing the prestigious legacy media brand that most clearheaded, marginally intelligent people would presume to be an asset. It lost 1.8 million subscribers in the process, but that’s merely the battle; it won the war, because when you visit Max now, the front-page carousel is a combination of scripted series, HBO documentaries, true crime and reality competition shows. It’s all on equal footing; it’s all content. But “Casablanca,” “Succession” and “Dr. Pimple Popper” are not the same thing — and the programmers of a service that pretends otherwise are abdicating their responsibility as curators.The service also showed its hand with the baffling decision (later corrected, following threats from the writers’ and directors’ unions) to lump together all of a production’s writers, producers and directors under the single classification of “creators” — terminology that similarly attempts to simplify and minimize the hard work of writing and directing, while simultaneously elevating the wildly divergent efforts of social media personalities and Instagram influencers who will breathlessly brand themselves “content creators.” You’ll hear tech “geniuses” and “innovative” chief executives referring to showrunners and filmmakers with the same terminology, and it’s nonsensical. Martin Scorsese and Logan Paul are not in the same line of work. In practical terms, “content creator” neatly accomplishes two things at once: It lets people who make garbage think they’re making art, and tells people who make art that they’re making garbage.Perhaps this is all just semantics, an old man yelling at clouds about a shift in thinking and classification. But the ubiquity of “content” is no organic evolution; this is more complicated, and frankly more depressing, than that. Language matters. The way we talk about things affects how we think and feel about them. So when journalists regurgitate purposefully reductive language, and when their viewers and readers consume and parrot it, they’re not adopting some zippy buzzword. They’re doing the bidding of people in power, and diminishing the work that they claim to love. More

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    in Theater

    Juilliard’s Top-Tier Graduate Acting Program Is Going Tuition-Free

    Starting with the next academic year, the drama school will eliminate an “unrealistic burden” for graduate acting students.The Juilliard School, one of the world’s most elite conservatories, is making its top-notch graduate acting program tuition-free.School officials said they hoped that the move would make the drama division accessible to a broader array of students, and that it would make it easier for graduates to pursue careers in the arts because they will have less debt.“There’s a mythology around a place with a name like Juilliard, and I know too many people who didn’t apply because they thought, ‘I couldn’t afford it,’” said Damian Woetzel, the school’s president. “We recognize that talent is so much greater than opportunity.”Juilliard’s drama division, in which undergraduate and graduate acting students train together, was (once again) declared the best in the nation by The Hollywood Reporter earlier this year. The school’s alumni have included Robin Williams, Jessica Chastain, Adam Driver and Viola Davis.The acting program’s Master of Fine Arts track, established in 2012, is relatively new; previously, postgraduate acting students received a credential called simply a diploma. The master’s degree program, which currently has 35 students, is a four-year program — one year longer than most — and the fourth year has always been tuition-free to keep Juilliard competitive with three-year programs elsewhere.Juilliard’s tuition, for both undergraduates and graduates, is $53,300 per year. About 90 percent of undergraduate students receive some financial aid.“The expense of being educated these days is an unrealistic burden, particularly for young artists,” the actress Laura Linney, who is a Juilliard alumna and the vice chairwoman of the school’s board of trustees, said in an interview. “Members of my class were paying debt into their 40s. That doesn’t encourage young people to go into the arts.”Tuition for all graduate acting students will be free starting with the next academic year. To eliminate tuition, the school said it had raised $15 million, with key gifts from the commercial theater producers Stephanie P. McClelland and John Gore.McClelland, a Juilliard trustee, has been credited as a producer on 87 Broadway shows over the last two decades; she donated with her husband, Carter McClelland, a longtime Wall Street executive. Gore is a British producer whose many ventures include the touring behemoth Broadway Across America and the website Broadway.com. Other gifts, and existing scholarship funds, were combined to permanently replace tuition revenue.“Many of our M.F.A. students come in with significant undergraduate debt, and some have maxed out the federal loans they can take,” said Evan Yionoulis, the dean of Juilliard’s drama division. This will “allow them to be here without that financial weight on their shoulders, and allow them the freedom, when they graduate, to make choices to build their craft and to have the patience it takes to build their career.”Juilliard’s move comes two years after Yale University made its drama school, which is also top-ranked and is larger than Juilliard’s, tuition-free with a $150 million gift from David Geffen. James Bundy, the dean of what is now called the David Geffen School of Drama, said the waiving of tuition had already had a significant impact at Yale.“We’ve seen a rise in applications — we’ve had the two highest years in the school’s history, which tells me that a great many more people saw the school as financially accessible,” Bundy said. “We’ve had a substantial increase in the portion of the applicant pool that identified as Black, Indigenous, or people of color. And taking tuition out of the equation has enabled us to increase stipends for living expenses for students with need, which has the long-term impact of driving down indebtedness.”Juilliard already has several other tuition-free programs, including the drama division’s two-year playwriting program, which currently has eight students, as well as several specialized music programs. Once the graduate acting program goes tuition-free, 26 percent of all Juilliard students will pay no tuition to attend.But many music and dance students, as well as drama undergraduates, will continue to have some tuition obligations; the graduate acting program is going tuition-free now because there were donors who stepped forward to make that possible.“My aim is to make the school tuition-free — the ultimate artistic education deserves that access,” Woetzel said. “Wouldn’t that be something?” More