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    ‘Carol & the End of the World’ Review: An Affirming Apocalypse

    An animated Netflix miniseries, about a quiet woman navigating the last days of the planet, looks for hope where you wouldn’t expect to find any.In Netflix’s new animated miniseries “Carol & the End of the World,” the question is not whether the apocalypse can be averted. The rogue planet that is definitely going to collide with Earth in about seven months is steadily growing larger in the sky. Humanity has accepted its fate; heroics are of no use. With the time they have left, people are out partying, traveling and hang-gliding, all of which are now clothing optional.Amid the bacchanal, the question — at least for Carol Kohl, an introverted 42-year-old woman in an unnamed American city — is what to do if you don’t care to join the fun. Carol is a happy creature of habit, and she does not see why the imminent end of the world means that anything has to change. Her wealthy parents may be spending their days naked and in a passionate throuple with her father’s hunky caregiver, but Carol just wishes she could still go to Applebee’s after work. What she would really like to do is to go to work, period.“Carol & the End of the World,” which premiered on Friday, was created by Dan Guterman, an Emmy-winning comedy writer and alumnus of The Onion who has worked on a small but interesting roster of shows that includes “At Home With Amy Sedaris,” “The Colbert Report,” “Community” and “Rick and Morty.” His new series has elements of science-fiction and dystopian workplace mystery, but it’s essentially a gentle, cleareyed coming-of-middle-age story. Carol is remarkable in her unremarkableness, and the show’s tension lies in whether she will come into her own in the little time she has left. Guterman doesn’t exactly find hope in the apocalypse, but he holds out for common humanity and a flicker of redemption.The actress and stand-up comedian Martha Kelly voices Carol with an abashed drone that has a core of dogged resolve. (She played another low-key character, Martha the claims adjuster, on the Zach Galifianakis comedy “Baskets.”) Carol is an odd, lonely, awkward duck, but she is that by choice. Her sister, who is spending her last days trotting the globe with younger men and compulsively skydiving, says: “She always did her own thing. Do you know how hard that is? I always do what everyone else does.”The world of the show has a surface realism and a fairy-tale logic: No one is going to work, but somehow the trains still run and cable news networks still report; benignly silent soldiers fold laundry and ring up groceries. Traveling the mostly empty, gently trashed streets of the city (the whimsical, colorful animation is by Bardel Entertainment, the Canadian studio that also does “Rick and Morty”), Carol discovers the mysterious venue around which the story revolves: a bustling, brightly lighted accounting department in which towers of paper are shuffled for no obvious purpose or any apparent employer. For Carol it’s nirvana, but even here she has trouble getting with the program. She is determined both to learn the office’s secret and to instill some camaraderie in its silent, shellshocked work force.Carol’s new sense of purpose sends her and two co-workers, the formidable Donna (Kimberly Hébert Gregory) and the effervescent Luis (Mel Rodriguez), on missions that have a dry, deadpan comic edge. The 10 half-hour episodes are also fleshed out with separate story lines involving Carol’s family (Bridget Everett is the voice of her frenetic sister, Elena), and a sad father (Michael Chernus) and son (Sean Giambrone) with whom Carol is briefly embroiled. Some of the later episodes take on stylized forms, like a riff on an “Endless Summer”-style surfing documentary or a human resources investigation recounted in true crime voice-over.Guterman and his fellow writers, Kevin Arrieta and Noah Prestwich, let the story wander here and there, and their epiphanies can be small-bore; if you’re not on the show’s wavelength, you may find it aimless or mundanely sentimental. But it has a shaggy, slightly ethereal charm and sympathetic characters whose varied reactions to the end of the world ring largely true. “Carol & the End of the World” resonates with all the medical, meteorological and political terrors that animate the current wave of apocalyptic entertainments, but it’s not out to scare you or to lecture you. It’s for people like Carol who live inside their heads and need a little more time to emerge, even when the world is on fire. More

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    Cord Jefferson on ‘American Fiction’

    The Emmy-winning writer and former journalist drew on personal experience for his feature debut, a layered sendup of race and hypocrisy in the book and film worlds.Before he read “Erasure,” Percival Everett’s satirical novel about Black representation in the publishing industry, Cord Jefferson had never really thought of himself as a movie director. He had hoped to direct for television — his writing credits include several episodes of “Master of None,” “The Good Place” and HBO’s “Watchmen,” for which he shared an Emmy in 2020 — but even that seemed like a stretch.“I thought they might let me direct something that I helped write or create,” he said in a recent interview. “And even then it would be like Episode 4 of 10, not the pilot or the finale.”Things changed in December 2020, when Jefferson, 41, picked up “Erasure” and became enchanted. The book, published in 2001, is the story of Thelonius Ellison, known as Monk, a disillusioned Black intellectual whose mocking attempt at writing a stereotypical “ghetto novel” becomes a straightforward best seller.“Twenty pages in, I knew I had to write a film adaptation,” Jefferson said. “By the time I finished the book, I knew I had to direct it.” “American Fiction,” his take on the novel — and feature film debut as both a writer and director — is in theaters Friday. It stars Jeffrey Wright as Monk, Issa Rae as a rival novelist and Tracee Ellis Ross and Sterling K. Brown as Monk’s siblings. In September, it won the top prize at the Toronto International Film Festival, a precursor for an Academy Awards nomination for best picture for the past 11 years.Over lunch in the NoHo neighborhood of Manhattan, Jefferson, a former journalist and editor at Gawker, discussed his personal connection to Everett’s story, his adoration of the writer-director Nicole Holofcener and shedding tears in a pitch meeting. These are edited excerpts from the conversation.What was it about the book that spoke to you?There was so much. The most obvious is just the conversation that it’s having about the expectations of a Black artist in this country, what people want or think that Black art should be. That was a huge part of my life when I was still working in journalism. I wrote this article called “The Racism Beat,” which is very much about the expectation that Black journalists are just there to write about the bad things that happen to Black people and racism and violence.But besides that, there are three siblings in the book, and I have two older siblings. And there’s an ailing parent in the book, and my mother passed of cancer in 2016, after two years of struggling. One of the siblings in the book is charged with caring for the parent because the other two are off doing their own thing, and that was the dynamic with us. My oldest brother shouldered that responsibility. He went about it stoically and never complained or anything, but I had this residual guilt over not being there.From big things to small things, there was just all of this stuff that felt like it was speaking to me directly. I went to a college in Virginia called William & Mary, and there’s a reference to William & Mary in the novel. Nobody ever talks about William & Mary in pop culture! It just felt like somebody had written a gift specifically for me, like, “I made this for you.”The parts about the expectations facing Black artists, did they match your own experience when you arrived in Hollywood?Oh, definitely. I thought I was going to get there and it would be like, “Oh yeah, there’s a world of opportunity and we’re just going to write about whatever. The Black experience in America now includes everything, all the way up to being the president of the United States.” But there’s genres for “prestige Black projects”: slave overcoming adversity and escaping, Black civil rights activist overcoming white racism, inner-city gangland stuff, poverty and broken homes.I’ll tell you a true story of something that happened to a friend that exemplifies this perfectly. She went into a meeting at this production company and they’re like, “What are you interested in writing?” She says, “I’m interested in romantic comedies, like ‘When Harry Met Sally,’ ‘Sleepless in Seattle,’ classic, generational, Nora Ephron comedies. I would also love to write a ’90s-style erotic thriller.” They’re like, “All right, great. We’ll come back to you later with some ideas.” About three hours later, they call her and say, “We’ve got this story about a blind slave who, thanks to a wealthy white benefactor, learns to play the piano and becomes a piano prodigy. Are you interested in this?”Wow.They see a Black person and they can’t see past that. I think there’s a lot of people who say, “Well, why would we hire you to write a rom-com? Why would we hire you to write an erotic thriller?” There’s an inability to think of us as having our own passions and our own complex existence outside of this very limited window of what they allow us to say about our lives. These are things that people of color have been talking about for a very long time. To me, the real spiritual ancestor for this project would be “Hollywood Shuffle” [Robert Townsend’s satire of Black representation in Hollywood, released in 1987].That was a real foundational text for me when I was a kid. I loved that movie. I probably saw it before I was 10. It opened my eyes to this idea that you can talk about these things that are very serious but also have fun with them, that not only is it OK to laugh, you need to laugh because otherwise you’ll just be miserable all the time. It blew my mind wide open.From left, Sterling K. Brown, Jeffrey Wright and Erika Alexander in “American Fiction.” The movie won the top prize at the Toronto International Film Festival.Claire Folger/Orion PicturesIt’s funny because the two references I kept thinking about while watching your movie were “Hollywood Shuffle” and Nicole Holofcener, which is a cool combination.Dude, love Nicole Holofcener. She’s a genius. I’m so happy you said that. To me, that’s the greatest compliment. I love her so much. I saw “Friends With Money” [2006] when it first came out, and I was just blown away. She’s a huge influence on me. She has such a subtle, deft hand with class dynamics. And I love her character work. I’m forgetting the one with Gandolfini and Julia Louis-Dreyfus …“Enough Said.”Yeah. I just feel like she has an attention to detail when it comes to how human beings actually interact and live their lives. What I set out to make with this movie was something that felt a little bit like life. To me, even in the most miserable times, I’ve always found ways to laugh and enjoy myself and time with my family and friends. There are all these things that buoy your spirits. I think it’s a disservice to the human experience to not reflect that. And that’s something Nicole Holofcener does really well. I think Noah Baumbach does, also. Spike Lee, Bong Joon Ho. All people who’ve inspired me over the years.I wanted to ask you about something that happens toward the end of the film, which is this really interesting conversation between Monk and Sintara (Issa Rae) that raises the question of whether his distaste for her novel masks a distaste for a certain kind of Black person. In your mind, what do you think Monk’s relationship is with other Black people?Something Jeffrey and I talked about the first time we met and that we agreed on instantly was we didn’t want this movie to be some Talented Tenth, respectability politics [expletive]. We didn’t want it to feel like we were finger wagging and saying, “This is the right way to be Black, and all you other people are doing it wrong.” Both of us knew the movie could not be that. So that scene was important because we didn’t want people to come away being like, “Oh, well, she’s the villain and he’s the hero.” There are no villains or heroes.What I really like about that scene is I don’t really know who I agree with, ultimately. They both make interesting points. But I will say that when she says that line, “Potential is what people see when they think what’s in front of them isn’t good enough,” I think it’s the first time we see Monk confronted with the idea that he might be a little self-loathing, that he might have an internal problem with his Blackness. It’s one of the first times that we see him really get clammed up.Do you think it’s directing now for you? Or will you go back to writing television?I’m working on four different movies right now and I want to keep writing and directing movies, but I also want to do TV. I published a short story last year, and I’d love to do more of that. I’m about 60 percent done with a stage play. I just want to keep making stuff. When T Street [a producer of “American Fiction”] told me that they were greenlighting the movie, I started crying in the meeting. I had been told no for so long. I’d worked on all these things that just sort of went nowhere. It starts to break your heart eventually. You wonder, “Is this ever going to happen for me? Or is this just going to be a thing that I wanted to do my whole life?” The fact that I was able to crack the door a little bit to make this. … I feel incredibly honored. More

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    Ice Spice, Brian Jordan Alvarez and More Breakout Stars of 2023

    These eight performers and artists broke away from the pack this year, delighting us and making us think.Gutsy and offbeat, with an abundance of heart. The stars who rose to the top in 2023 shared a similar mentality: do it their own way and go full tilt without sacrificing emotion or authenticity. Here are eight artists who shook up their scenes and resonated with fans.TelevisionBella RamseyAs the TV landscape continues to fracture, one new show emerged as a bona fide phenomenon: “The Last of Us,” HBO’s stunningly heartfelt zombie apocalypse thriller. Given that its source material was a beloved, acclaimed 2013 video game that has sold over 20 million copies, the bar was extraordinarily high. The show’s debut season delivered, in large part because of the synergy between the duo at its center: Pedro Pascal as Joel and Bella Ramsey as Ellie, two characters who find themselves on a cross-country quest, dodging reanimated corpses to (hopefully) save the world.Ramsey, 20, who was born and raised in central England, offered a layered, tenacious, haunting performance as a teenager who is coming-of-age while being humanity’s possible last hope. They have been a working actor since they signed on to “Game of Thrones” at age 11, as the scene-stealing giant slayer Lyanna Mormont, and went on to have celebrated turns in the BBC/HBO adaptation of “His Dark Materials” and Lena Dunham’s 2022 period comedy, “Catherine Called Birdy.”For “The Last of Us,” Ramsey nailed a specific combination of contradictions — funny and quirky, but violent and rough — that Craig Mazin and Neil Druckmann, its creators, were looking for. “There are few people better between the words ‘action’ and ‘cut,’” Mazin told The New York Times.Ramsey’s performance earned them an Emmy nomination, for outstanding lead actress in a drama, joining the likes of established stars such as Keri Russell and Elisabeth Moss. “It’s only recently that I’ve accepted I am Ellie, and I can do it, and I am a good actor,” Ramsey told us.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?  More

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    Kal Penn: ‘Biden’s Only Crime Is Having a Messed-Up Son’

    “The Daily Show” guest host said that impeaching President Biden would “be a terrible precedent to set — I don’t want to see Tom Hanks go to jail.”Welcome to Best of Late Night, a rundown of the previous night’s highlights that lets you sleep — and lets us get paid to watch comedy. Here are the 50 best movies on Netflix right now.Not-So Like Father, Like SonHunter Biden spoke outside of U.S. Capitol this week, criticizing Republicans for making light of his addiction struggles and also offering to publicly testify on behalf of his father in the new impeachment investigation into President Joe Biden.On “The Daily Show,” guest host Kal Penn joked that President Biden’s only crime “is having a messed-up son, which would be a terrible precedent to set — I don’t want to see Tom Hanks go to jail.”“That’s right, Hunter Biden spoke to reporters yesterday and said that his father was, “not financially involved in any of his business ventures.” Well, I believe that. He seems like the kind of dad who wouldn’t even get involved in your lemonade stand when you were a kid. [imitating Joe Biden] ‘You want to sell lemonade, do you? I guess you better get busy planting a lemon tree.’” — SETH MEYERS“To be fair, we can’t say for sure whether Biden ever did anything shady with his son’s business dealings. Their story has changed over time, but we do know that Republicans don’t actually give a [expletive] about people profiting off the presidency, because Donald Trump was the president. He had so many schemes going on, running the country was basically his side hustle.” — KAL PENN“Unfortunately, when it comes to Hunter Biden, Republicans are also struggling with addiction.” — SETH MEYERSThe Punchiest Punchlines (Got Milk? Edition)“To be fair, before leaving town, Congress did tackle the nation’s most pressing issue and passed a bill allowing schools to serve whole milk. I mean, what are the chances of that passing — 1 percent, 2 percent, tops.” — STEPHEN COLBERT“It’s all part of Congress’s new dairy campaign: ‘Got anything that’ll distract people from our incompetence?’” — STEPHEN COLBERT“Now, this bill passed with bipartisan support, but it was a particular priority for Republicans, which makes sense. I mean, you can’t look at this party and tell me you’re surprised they are obsessed with milk.” — KAL PENN“How much energy does milk give you if Santa has to stop and drink more at every house? Santa doesn’t need milk, he needs one of those Panera lemonades.” — KAL PENN“By the way, are kids really out there demanding whole milk? They’re school kids — they want Capri Suns or, at best, milk-flavored vapes.” — KAL PENN“But, I got to be honest, there isn’t actually a good reason not to expand milk options for kids: Milk is kind of disgusting. Like is that weird that we drink milk as a species? It’s not your mom’s milk. It’s not even your friend’s mom. It’s like a completely different animal.” — KAL PENNThe Bits Worth WatchingLouis Virtel, a “Jimmy Kimmel Live” writer, offered advice to gay Americans going home for the holidays.Also, Check This OutMadonna performing at Barclays Center in Brooklyn on Wednesday night.The New York TimesMadonna’s Celebration Tour is a career retrospective that thematically explores her past and provides a glimpse of her future. More

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    Review: Onstage, the ‘Stranger Things’ Franchise Eats Itself

    “Stranger Things: The First Shadow,” a London theater show based on the Netflix series, pummels the audience with sensory overload and its lavish budget.As theatergoers took their seats, a buttery waft of popcorn in the auditorium was an indicator of what was to come. “Stranger Things: The First Shadow” — a spinoff of the hit Netflix series, “Stranger Things” — brings a high-octane, TV-movie sensibility to the stage, pummeling the audience with horror-show frights and sensory overload: eerie smoke effects, mind-boggling levitations, scary vocal distortions reminiscent of “The Exorcist” and noise — so much noise.Directed by Stephen Daldry (“Billy Elliot: The Musical”; “The Crown”) and written by Kate Trefry and Jack Thorne in collaboration with the TV show’s creators, the Duffer brothers, the show runs at the Phoenix Theater, in London, through Aug. 25, 2024. It’s a gaudy, vertiginous fairground ride of a play, exactly what you’d expect from a show co-produced by Netflix: Cheap thrills, expensively made.“Stranger Things: The First Shadow” is billed as a prequel to the Netflix series, which is set in the fictitious town of Hawkins, In., during the mid-1980s. The location is the same, but the year is 1959, and the play tells the origin story of Henry Creel, who appears as a malevolent sociopath in Season 4. We meet him here as a troubled, withdrawn adolescent (played with great aplomb by Louis McCartney) burdened with psychic, clairvoyant and telekinetic powers of unknown provenance.Henry, a newcomer to Hawkins, strikes up a tentative friendship with another oddball, Patty Newbie, played with a winning blend of naïve compassion and halting self-doubt by Ella Karina Williams. The two youngsters bond over their shared, deeply uncool, love of comic books and, somewhat improbably, land the lead roles in their high-school musical. When several of its cast members find their household pets mysteriously killed, Henry appears to be implicated. His peers take it upon themselves to investigate, and stumble, “Blair Witch”-style, into a baroque nightmare.Henry and Patty Newbie, played by Ella Karina Williams.Manuel HarlanAmid the horror, the play carries a sentimental message about young misfits finding solace and community. Patricia, an adoptee, never knew her mother (“My whole life I’ve been the girl from nowhere,” she laments,) and feels a kinship with Henry because he is misunderstood. He reassures her by pointing out that many of their favorite comic book characters are orphans: “Having no parents is basically a prerequisite to being a superhero.” Similarly, Henry is desperate not to let his strange powers define him. (He insists: “I’m not a freak! I’m normal!”)In these respects the tale is redolent of Young Adult fiction, but the can-do vibes are served up with a bleak twist, since the odds — as we know from Season 4 — are stacked against Henry. A research scientist, Dr. Brenner (Patrick Vaill), ostensibly enlisted to help him, has nefarious motives; the influence of Henry’s father, Victor (Michael Jibson), who has severe PTSD from World War II, is also a source of intrigue. All avenues lead, inexorably, to a big conspiracy involving a secret government program. The supporting cast comprise a panorama of recognizable social types — dumb jocks, deadbeat boyfriends, vapid bimbos, oafish policemen — whose antics provide light relief.Miriam Buether’s set evokes 1950s small-town life with a nostalgic, homey touch: a crescent of school locker rooms for the high school scenes, the community church and a local liquor store are elegantly rendered. Later on, a government psychiatric facility is a neon-lit, white brickwork affair, cold and clinical.In the show, Henry meets with Dr. Brenner (Patrick Vaill), right, a research scientist with questionable motives.Manuel HarlanSome of the backdrops are staggeringly elaborate. The opening scene, depicting a nautical disaster, is like something from a Hollywood action movie. In keeping with this aesthetic, the sound, by Paul Arditti, is quite simply relentless. Thunderously loud crashing sounds occur with nerve-shredding frequency — the “jump scare” technique beloved of horror movies. Henry’s paranormal powers are obscurely connected to electromagnetic energy, so there are lots of buzzing electrical noises whenever he has one of his moments.In its totality, the production is lavish to the point of embarrassment, and the sheer scale of the thing is hard to reconcile with the play’s rather modest intellectual aspirations and lack of originality. One is left simultaneously impressed and a little bewildered. Haven’t television and cinema already got these bases covered? Is this what theater is for?“Stranger Things” first aired in 2016. It’s over four years since Mike Hale suggested, in his Times review of Season 3, that the show might be suffering from “franchise fatigue.” The original concept had a certain straightforward appeal — weird goings-on in a backwoods town, sinister machinations of shady state agencies, sympathetic nerds getting a chance to shine — but it was never quite strong enough to sustain serious longevity. The show powered on regardless, because there was money to be made.“Stranger Things: The First Shadow” achieves what it sets out to do, and die-hard fans will surely lap it up — but it may well prove to be a death throe. The real spectacle here is that of a franchise eating itself.Stranger Things: The First ShadowThrough Aug. 25, 2024 at the Phoenix Theater, in London; uk.strangerthingsonstage.com. More

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    What to Watch: ‘Men of a Certain Age’ With Andre Braugher

    Two of the actor’s best performance are, unfortunately, not streaming. But what is perhaps his warmest performance is available on Max.From left, Ray Romano, Andre Braugher and Scott Bakula in a scene from “Men of a Certain Age,” one of the best series starring Braugher that is actually streaming.Danny Feld/TNTThe actor Andre Braugher’s death on Monday signals the end of an era for television — the era in which his vibrant, engrossing performances helped carve out what top-shelf television could be. His presence on any show — in any scene — was a sign to perk up one’s ears, and the arc of his television career is the arc of modern television.When network dramas were the best thing going, Braugher was the best on the best. When basic cable became home to creative, distinctive shows, there was Braugher, in antihero mode on “Thief” and later in grounded, more easygoing mode on “Men of a Certain Age.” Quirky single-camera network comedy, snappy streaming drama — where goes Braugher, so goes our attention.“Homicide: Life on the Street” is among the greatest network dramas in television history — and it can’t exist without Braugher’s electric, Emmy-winning performance as Frank Pembleton, a passionate, exacting Baltimore detective. In a show filled with superb acting and rich stories, Braugher is still the standout. I will never understand why this show is not streaming; I feel I have been banging this drum since before drums were invented.Also absent from streaming is the bleak and intense 2006 miniseries “Thief,” for which Braugher won his second Emmy. He starred as the head of a crime ring in post-Katrina New Orleans, and the show was half dark heists, half wrenching domestic drama, with Braugher as a grieving widower at odds with his teenage stepdaughter (Mae Whitman, also terrific). You will never see better weeping on television.While “Homicide” is probably the brightest star in the Braugher galaxy, “Men of a Certain Age” is perhaps the warmest. Luckily, this one is streaming; both seasons are on Max. Braugher stars with Ray Romano and Scott Bakula as longtime friends, each struggling with feeling simultaneously stuck and adrift. Bakula was the bachelor free spirit; Romano was the anxious soon-to-be-divorced dad; and Braugher was the ground-down family man, Owen, who works at his father’s car dealership, which fills him with resentment he can’t quite confront.Every time I revisit “Men,” I’m struck anew by its lyricism and perceptiveness, and even when I intend to look up one clip, I wind up watching seven episodes. Owen both gives and receives lectures, and Braugher shines equally as an authority on life and as the mad little boy being scolded. While he delivers a more strictly comedic performance on “Brooklyn Nine-Nine,” Braugher is hilarious here, too, and where “Nine-Nine” is cartoonish, “Men” is naturalistic. It’s a softer role in some ways — gentle, unfussy — but Braugher’s mastery of rhythm is in full force.In “Homicide,” Pembleton survives a stroke but endures its lingering effects on his speech, mobility and cognition. In “Men,” Owen has poorly managed Type 1 diabetes. Though the characters are different in almost all ways, they’re both people who avoid fragility. Braugher’s performances were so total that you couldn’t imagine a fault line — there had to be some other force chipping away at his vitality. His death feels more shocking because of it. How could a performer so totally alive ever be anything but? More

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    Andre Braugher Died of Lung Cancer, His Publicist Says

    Mr. Braugher, who died this week, received the diagnosis a few months ago. The “Brooklyn Nine-Nine” actor won an Emmy for his work on “Homicide: Life on the Street.”Andre Braugher, the Emmy-winning actor who died this week at 61, was diagnosed with lung cancer a few months ago before succumbing to the disease, his longtime publicist, Jennifer Allen, said on Thursday.When Ms. Allen confirmed his death this week, she said he had died after a brief illness. A 2014 profile by The New York Times Magazine said that Mr. Braugher was intensely private and “stopped drinking alcohol and smoking years ago.”Though he had an expansive career, Mr. Braugher was best known for his roles as a stoic, composed police officer on “Homicide: Life on the Street,” the 1990s NBC police procedural, and “Brooklyn Nine-Nine,” the Fox sitcom that later moved to NBC.Mr. Braugher won Emmy Awards in 1998 for his work as Detective Frank Pembleton on “Homicide” and in 2006 for his role as a coolheaded crook in the six-part FX crime thriller “Thief.” He was nominated four times for his portrayal of Capt. Raymond Holt in “Brookyn Nine-Nine.” More

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    Stephen Sondheim Belongs in the Pantheon of American Composers

    “You know, I had the idealistic notion, when I was 20, that I was going into the theater,” Stephen Sondheim once said. “I wasn’t; I was going into show business, and I was a fool to think otherwise.”It was a remark characteristic of Sondheim, the titan of musical theater whose decades’ worth of credits as a composer and lyricist included “West Side Story,” “Company” and “Into the Woods.” Here he was as many had seen him in interviews over the years: unsentimental and a bit flip, self-effacing to the point of selling himself short.Because among musical theater artists of his generation, Sondheim, who died in 2021 at 91, was arguably the most artistic — challenging, unusual, incapable of superficiality in a medium often dismissed as superficial. He was, perhaps to his disappointment, not the best businessman, with shows that rarely lasted long on Broadway. And his work was better for it.Sondheim has always had a dedicated fan base, but right now his musicals are true hot tickets with substantial real estate on New York stages. Recently, it was possible to take in four Sondheim shows in a single weekend: “Merrily We Roll Along” and “Sweeney Todd” on Broadway, “The Frogs” in a starry concert presentation by MasterVoices, and “Here We Are,” his unfinished final work, completed and in its premiere run at the Shed.From left, Lindsay Mendez, Jonathan Groff and Daniel Radcliffe in “Merrily We Roll Along” on Broadway.Sara Krulwich/The New York TimesTogether, they form a portrait that helps in considering Sondheim’s place among American composers. I say American because Broadway, alongside jazz, is the most homegrown of this country’s music, and his work constantly pushed the art form further. Where so many of his colleagues have operated within standard structures, he, even in writing a 32-bar song, seemed to always ask, “What else is possible?”It’s also important to consider Sondheim as a distinctly American composer because his writing reflects a creative mind repeatedly fixated on the idea of his homeland, with an ambivalence by turns affectionate and acerbic. It’s there in his lyric contribution to “Gypsy,” arguably the Great American Musical, which the musicologist Raymond Knapp has described as “a version of the American dream that leads, as if inevitably, to striptease.” And it continues, with an unconventional patriotism in “Assassins” and a revealing journey across state lines and years in “Road Show.”In that sense, Sondheim is not only one of the finest American composers, but also one of the most essential.“He and Lenny are at the top of that list,” Paul Gemignani, Sondheim’s longtime music director, said, referring also to Leonard Bernstein. “Most Broadway composers are writing pop tunes. Steve never wrote a pop tune. ‘Send in the Clowns’ got lucky.”Sondheim seemed fated to create musical theater at a higher level than his colleagues. Like Bernstein, he was pedigreed: His mentor, for lyric writing, was Oscar Hammerstein II, of Rodgers and Hammerstein; for composition, the modernist Milton Babbitt. Yet he emulated neither.In an interview with the Sondheim Review, Sondheim said that he was trained by Hammerstein “to think of songs as one-act plays, to move a song from point A to point B dramatically.” But he thought of them in more classical terms: “sonata form — statement, development and recapitulation.”And while Sondheim composed with the spirit of an avant-gardist, he was more of a postmodernist than Babbitt, though he described Babbitt as a closet songwriter who admired Kern and Arlen as much as Mozart and Schoenberg.“The first hour of each of our weekly sessions would be devoted to analyzing a song like ‘All the Things That You Are,’” Sondheim recalled, “the next three to the ‘Jupiter’ Symphony, always concentrating on the tautness of the structures, the leanness and frugality of the musical ideas.” Genre didn’t matter; craft did, which is why one of their most influential lessons entailed how a Bach fugue built, as Babbitt put it, an entire cathedral from a four-note theme. Sondheim would later do the same in the score of “Anyone Can Whistle.”As a university student, Sondheim wrote some juvenilia as a lyricist-composer — most intriguingly, fragments of a “Mary Poppins” musical that predates the Disney movie by over a decade. But, after a false start, his first professional credit was as the lyricist on “West Side Story.” “Gypsy” followed, with music by Jule Styne, but it wasn’t until “A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum” that Broadway saw its first show with both music and lyrics by Sondheim.He was often asked which came first, the music or the lyrics. The most accurate answer is probably sometimes one, sometimes the other, sometimes both, but with a deference to clarity of text. Like Wagner, who wrote the librettos of his operas, Sondheim wanted his lyrics to be heard and understood; his vocal lines resemble those of Janacek and Debussy, whose dramas unfurl with the rhythm of speech.Hal Prince, left, and Sondheim in 1988.Kyle Ericksen/Getty ImagesSondheim’s most prolific, and ambitious, period began with the concept musical “Company” (1970) and his collaborations with the eminent producer and director Hal Prince. Gemignani said that, together, they “never compromised on bringing their ideas to life.” It was during this period that Sondheim emerged as a postmodernist in the vein of John Adams, with a deep well of references presented with a wink or sincerity, but above all with dramaturgical purpose.That might be why “Follies,” from 1971, has been called a “post-musical musical.” Its score abounds in pastiche — what is “Losing My Mind” if not a Gershwin tune from an alternate universe? — and artful irony, such as dissonances that betray the darker truth of “The Road You Didn’t Take.”For “Pacific Overtures” (1976), Sondheim took a similar approach to Puccini in “Turandot,” by putting authentic sounds — in this case, Kabuki music — through his own idiomatic prism. But, like Puccini, he suggests rather than represents, unable to escape a Western perspective while purportedly telling a story from a Japanese point of view. It’s a contradiction that doesn’t serve the musical as well as the more globalist style of “Someone in a Tree,” a song that brought a simplistic American Minimalism to Broadway.Inspired by the spareness of Japanese visual art, Sondheim composed an analogue in a song that does little more than develop a single chord, over and over. As Philip Glass and Steve Reich were applying a world-music sensibility to the classical sphere, Sondheim wrote his own kind of repetitive phase music. “It’s not insignificant that when I met Steve Reich,” Sondheim later wrote, “he told me how much he loved this show.”He was on culturally surer ground with “A Little Night Music” (1973), in which the idea of variation is applied to waltz-like melodies in three. He wrote that his favorite form was the theme and variations, and that he respected Rachmaninoff’s “Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini.” This musical came closer to that piece than anything else Sondheim wrote, with a hint of Sibelius.“The Frogs,” presented by MasterVoices, at the Rose Theater at Jazz at Lincoln Center in November.Erin Baiano for The New York TimesSondheim’s sound, like that of any good postmodernist, was both consistent and chameleonic, never more so than in “Sweeney,” which displays his genius and misguided musical beliefs in equal measure.Aside from “Passion” (1994), it is Sondheim’s most operatic work in sensibility and craft, yet he bristled at the idea of “Sweeney” being called an opera or an operetta and once wrote that “when ‘Porgy and Bess’ was performed on Broadway, it was a musical; when it was performed at Glyndebourne and Covent Garden, it was an opera.” (That’s not true. It was always an opera, and played on Broadway at a time when many operas did.)All told, “Sweeney” is a hybrid of music theater, one that brings in yet another medium: cinema. Sondheim believed that, with all due respect, “John Williams is responsible for “Jaws,” not Steven Spielberg.” His score for “Sweeney” is similarly rich with edge-of-your-seat underscoring, while the lyrics are both ingenious and inherently melodic. Sondheim was proud of the opening line of “The Ballad of Sweeney Todd,” and rightfully so: “Attend the tale of Sweeney Todd” sets a mood of theatrical artifice and anachronism, with a piercing consonance in the T’s as unsettling as Nabokov’s “tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth” in “Lolita.”Josh Groban, left, and Annaleigh Ashford in “Sweeney Todd” on Broadway.Sara Krulwich/The New York TimesHere, it must be said, that the sound of Sondheim would not be such without a crucial collaborator: Jonathan Tunick, his orchestrator to this day. (The scores of all four shows I recently attended were arranged by him.) Sondheim composed at his piano, then sang through while accompanying himself; from there, Tunick teased out the textures of his playing into entire instrumental ensembles.In an interview, Tunick said that you can’t overthink the process. “I was able to tell a great deal, not only from the actual notes but from the way he played them,” he added, “the way he phrased, the way he attacked a chord.” He described the transformation as, more than anything, “Dionysian.” At its fullest, the arrangement on Broadway now, the “Sweeney” score abounds in colorful flourishes and bone-rattling horror, the fluttering in the winds in one song as delicate as the low brasses are chilling at the start of “Epiphany.”If “Sweeney” reflects a worldview, a pretty dismal one, that speaks to America only allegorically, a more direct view of the country emerges in later works. “Merrily” comments obliquely on the period of history it covers, with the space-age promise of Sputnik giving way to cynical neoliberalism. And American themes are even more overt in the shows that brought Sondheim back together with John Weidman, the book writer of “Pacific Overtures”: “Assassins” (1990) and “Road Show,” a troubled musical that went through multiple revisions and titles before premiering in its final form in 2008. Both shows are flawed — “Road Show” structurally, and “Assassins” for its disturbing pageant of mental illness — but reflect the promise and tragedy of the American dream.“Assassins” goes so far as to propose “Another National Anthem,” which reads as a litany of disenfranchisement from a cast of characters who all feel let down by a system that was supposed to work for them; it’s not far from the complaints that fueled distrust of government today and the rise of Donald J. Trump.Micaela Diamond, left, and fellow cast members in the premiere run of “Here We Are” at the Shed.Sara Krulwich/The New York TimesMore barbed yet is “Here We Are,” in its sendup of elitism and the privilege of both apathy and revolt. For better and worse, the score has a valedictory spirit, recalling earlier work without quoting it exactly, and the lyrics contain satirical observations that wouldn’t be out of place in “Company.”My generation of theater fans came of age loving “Into the Woods,” which, because of its enduring popularity as theater for children, will remain onstage far into the future. But the Sondheim works most likely to last, from a purely musical perspective, are those that least readily show their age, and happen to be classical-leaning and postmodern: “Follies” is timelessly Broadway; “A Little Night Music,” universally elegant; “Sweeney,” perennially effective.Gemignani called “Sweeney” Sondheim’s “Porgy and Bess.” Like that show, it has played in Broadway theaters and opera houses alike. And like that show, it’s the masterpiece of a great American composer. More