“I feel like with the kind of work we do as artists, we are literally giving ourselves — we’re giving our body and voice and spirit,” said Kecia Lewis, who recently won a Tony Award for her performance as the tough-minded but inspirational piano teacher Miss Liza Jane in the musical “Hell’s Kitchen.” What with […] More
A recent documentary has industry bigwigs telling a galling story about the file-sharing era: Everything worked out for the best.How do you disassemble a decades-long, multibillion-dollar industry in just a few short years? This was the question at the heart of this summer’s two-part Paramount+ documentary, “How Music Got Free,” which examines the greed and myopia of the music business in the late 1990s and early 2000s, when an assortment of otherwise feckless teenagers and tech enthusiasts finally figured out how to trade songs over the internet. Depending on your perspective, it is either a delightful yarn about the money-changers in the temple getting their due or a long, sad narrative about corporations and consumers banding together to deprive artists of a fair wage.Far from demonizing the innovators of online music piracy, “How Music Got Free” regards them as digital Robin Hood figures, visionaries whose passion for technology and music leveled the economic playing field. One montage contrasts the Croesus-like wealth of artists like Master P with the hardscrabble lives of residents of Shelby, N.C., as if seeking to justify piracy in one persuasive sweep of social-realist juxtaposition. Shelby is the home of Bennie Lydell Glover, a computer wizard and CD-manufacturing-plant employee who smuggled countless embargoed records onto the internet — a pipeline of prerelease material large enough to affect the sales of artists as big as Kanye West and 50 Cent. The documentary is also quick to point out the orgiastic profits reaped by record labels during the ’80s and ’90s, when CDs could be manufactured for around $2 and sold for $20, a practice that proved doubly lucrative as the new format induced consumers to buy their record collections all over again. The old expression goes: Pigs get fat; hogs get slaughtered. When the damage was done — from 2006 to 2016, CD sales dropped 84 percent — an entire generation had internalized the notion that they should never expect to pay anything for the music they cherished. The carnage could scarcely be calculated.“How Music Got Free” offers a sympathetic look back at the early days of this paradigm shift, but it’s worth remembering how music moguls and corporations actually responded to piracy at the time. Their reaction might best be described as a Keystone Kops-style combination of outrage, threats and litigation that mirrored the general stages of grief. Their indignant protests had a plaintive message: “You’re stealing from your favorite artists!” The unspoken second half of that was: “That’s our job!”This is worth remembering specifically because “How Music Got Free” was produced by Eminem, among others, and features a parade of industry bigwigs including Jimmy Iovine, 50 Cent, Timbaland and Marshall Mathers himself. Today the documentary treats the rise of online file-sharing services as first an astonishment, then a nuisance, then an existential threat and then, amazingly, a panacea. The original pirates are judged to be “pioneers” who lit the only clear path forward for the music industry. That path turns out to be streaming, a neat compromise between letting consumers listen to whatever they want online and collecting just enough money for it that big record labels are satisfied with their cut. A highly weird coda praises the contemporary streaming economy as a populist breakthrough, wherein, per the documentary’s narration, “we are one step closer to an artist being able to chart their own course.” Also: “Fans can experience music in their own ways.” Also, per one Panglossian talking head: “If you like music, you have more opportunities.” Also: “The artists themselves are just having more direct relationships with the consumers,” which — what does this even mean?History is written by the winners, and Eminem, Iovine and the rest of the plutocrats involved with “How Music Got Free” are clear victors in the aftermath of the piracy wars. What is left unmentioned, of course, is the surrounding blast crater, which has functionally erased a once-thriving ecosystem of middle-class musicians. Those artists survived on the old model of physical sales and mechanical royalties; now they have been almost completely excised from the profit pool of the streaming economy. Perhaps you have read the numbers and wrangled with their penurious abstractions. Per the Recording Industry Association of America, streaming currently accounts for 84 percent of revenue from recorded music. One estimate had streaming platforms paying an average of $0.00173 per stream; more recent numbers have it as $0.0046. Either way, a majority of that princely sum is typically captured by record labels, while the artist is left to make do with the remainder. I will save you the trouble of getting out your calculator. What this means is that it is essentially impossible for all but a glancingly small number of musicians to make meaningful income from their recordings.All turned out well, and music was solved forever.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More
A patient, a shrink and a gun are the raw ingredients of a chic, sadistic Broadway thriller.How long would you like to spend with a psychopath?If 80 minutes sounds good, you can take my seat at the Helen Hayes Theater, where the extremely effective, often funny and quasi-sadistic “Job” opened on Tuesday. I’ll just tiptoe away.But if you’re not a fan of relentless thrillers, you’re likely to feel that the gun the psychopath is aiming at her shrink when the lights come up — and keeps handy for the entirety of their supersized session — is really aimed at you.Admittedly, the shrink would quibble with my diagnosis: Jane, the patient, is probably not a psychopath. Or not just. Having apparently swallowed the D.S.M.-5 whole, she at various times displays symptoms of paranoia, post-traumatic stress, obsessive-compulsive disorder, narcissism and snark. In layman’s terms, a real piece of work.And work is why the 20-something Jane has come to see the 60-something Loyd, a psychiatrist with expertise in desperate cases like hers. Having recently been put on leave from her position at a Bay Area tech company — a video of her standing on a desk screaming at co-workers went viral — she needs his sign-off to return to her job.Bringing a gun to a mandated therapy session does not seem like putting one’s best foot forward. But the play, by Max Wolf Friedlich, labors to make Jane, or at least her job, sympathetic. She works in “user care” — a euphemism for content moderation, itself a euphemism for the removal of violent, disgusting and often criminal material from the internet.Lemmon’s Jane is a marvel of compelling twitches, our critic writes, and Friedman is less flashy but perhaps even finer because of his character’s contradictions.Hiroko Masuike/The New York TimesWe are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More
Richard Gadd, the show’s creator, said in a court filing that Fiona Harvey, who is suing Netflix for defamation, harassed him in real life but that the show is a dramatic retelling.After Netflix was sued by a woman who claimed that she inspired the stalker character on the hit series “Baby Reindeer,” the show’s creator, Richard Gadd, said in court papers filed Monday that he had been stalked by the woman in real life but that the series was a “fictionalized retelling.”In a declaration filed in federal court in Los Angeles, Mr. Gadd said that the woman, Fiona Harvey, harassed him in many of the same ways the character Martha stalks Mr. Gadd’s character, Donny, on “Baby Reindeer,” which claims to be “a true story.”Mr. Gadd said that in real life, Ms. Harvey visited him constantly at the bar where he worked and sent him “thousands of emails, hundreds of voicemails, and a number of handwritten letters,” some which were sexually explicit or threatening. But he also argued that “Baby Reindeer” is “a dramatic work.”“It is not a documentary or an attempt at realism,” Mr. Gadd wrote in the filing. “While the Series is based on my life and real-life events and is, at its core, emotionally true, it is not a beat-by-beat recounting of the events and emotions I experienced as they transpired. It is fictionalized, and is not intended to portray actual facts.”Mr. Gadd gave his declaration in support of a motion filed by Netflix seeking to dismiss the defamation lawsuit Ms. Harvey filed last month.Ms. Harvey claimed in the suit that the character Martha was based on her, and that the series defamed her by portraying the character as a convicted stalker who at one point sexually assaults the character played by Mr. Gadd. In her lawsuit, Ms. Harvey said she had never been convicted of a crime and had never sexually assaulted Mr. Gadd.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More
The archly humorous, high-body-count Netflix series about an ex-Stasi assassin is like “Killing Eve” with a more discernible heartbeat.“Killing Eve” went off the air in April 2022. “Kleo” came along four months later. The offbeat, darkly comic, cold-war-related spy thriller abhors a vacuum.The German writers and producers Hanno Hackfort, Bob Konrad and Richard Kropf, who created “Kleo” for Netflix, evidently were not afraid of comparisons to the popular “Killing Eve,” which ran for four seasons on BBC America. Kleo Straub (Jella Haase), their East German protagonist, is a lethal assassin with a guileless pride in her abilities, reminiscent of Villanelle, the “Killing Eve” role that brought Jodie Comer an Emmy.Kleo also comes with her own version of Sandra Oh’s Eve, here a West German cop named Sven Petzold (Dimitrij Schaad) — an operative from the other side who is obsessed with Kleo and whose on-and-off, cat-and-mouse, will-they-or-won’t-they relationship with her is the show’s emotional center. And the two series share a style: the spy caper as darkly humorous fairy tale, shifting between mordant, violent theatricality and mordant, goofy comedy.But “Kleo,” whose second season premiered last week on Netflix, is its own show, and, depending on your taste, it might be the better of the two. It is lighter and more straightforward in its storytelling and its humor, but just as moving and involving. It doesn’t have the filigree of “Killing Eve,” the same degree of baroque inventiveness, but it is ingenious in its own more casual, more human way.And it is less of a self-contained hall of mirrors than the earlier show; it benefits from being about something real, even if its relationship to history is stretched to the breaking point. Season 2 returns to the fraught period between the fall of the Berlin Wall in 1989 and German reunification in 1990, with Kleo, the former off-the-books Stasi hit woman, still pursuing a personal mission of revenge that is somehow mixed up with the fate of the two Germanys.The jokes, the suspense, the melodrama and the violent action of “Kleo” are all contained within a vivid portrait of post-fall Berlin. Everyone is quick to take advantage of the moral and political vacuum, from Thilo (Julius Feldmeier), the spectral techno-music junkie who becomes Kleo’s roommate and confidant, to all the Russian, American and East and West German spymasters who use her for their own purposes. The settings, in Berlin and other Central and Eastern European locales, are always visually absorbing, simultaneously candy colored and brutalist drab.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More
“In the span of a week, Democrats have gone from the despair of a certain Trump presidency to the joy of a statistical tie,” Stewart said on “The Daily Show.”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.‘Ref! Ref! Open Your Eyes!’Jon Stewart, back on “The Daily Show” after a hiatus, had a lot of catching up to do on Monday.“In the span of a week, Democrats have gone from the despair of a certain Trump presidency to the joy of a statistical tie.” — JON STEWARTThe swift rise of Kamala Harris as the Democrats’ likely nominee after President Biden’s withdrawal got a lot of reaction from conservatives on cable TV. Stewart surveyed the responses, which ranged from calling it a “coup” to suggesting that Harris, because she has Indian roots, isn’t really Black.“[Imitating a conservative pundit:] ‘Two races? In one person? Now I’ve seen everything. I heard she sent her DNA to 23 and Me, and it broke the computer. I don’t know what to do! Goodness gracious.’ If these people ever saw a Pizza Hut/Taco Bell, they’d lose their [expletive] minds: ‘What is this, a D.E.I. restaurant?’” — JON STEWART“But I get it! If I thought I had this thing in the bag, and you were going to be going up against old Joe Biden, and then they pull this, I’d be like, ‘Ref! Ref! Open your eyes! How can you not see they’re coup-ing? They’re coup-ing!’” — JON STEWART“[Imitating Donald Trump:] Do you have any idea how much money on “Let’s Go Brandon” ear bandages I’ve spent?” — JON STEWART“Your candidate’s Donald Trump. His catchphrase is literally, ‘You’re fired!’ He’s the Anna Wintour of authoritarian wannabes. Donald Trump hired 44 cabinet members — 75 percent of them want nothing to do with the guy. His secretary of state called him a [expletive] moron. His chief of staff said, ‘He’s the most flawed person I’ve ever met.’ You know why he needs a new vice-presidential running mate? I’ll tell you why — he tried to get the last one killed.” — JON STEWART, responding to pundits’ allegations that Harris is an unpleasant boss“But you know what? I do understand that they’re upset. It makes sense. So how about we do this? Out of fairness. I’m a fair person. You can replace your old guy, too!” — JON STEWARTThe Bits Worth WatchingPresident Biden’s transportation secretary, Pete Buttigieg, talked about Harris and other things on “The Daily Show.” (The other shows are taking the week off, incidentally.)What We’re Excited About on Tuesday NightJon M. Chu, the director of “Wicked,” will appear on Tuesday’s “Daily Show.”Also, Check This OutMarina Abramovic “embracing” the ocean on Fire Island in early 2024. Marco AnelliAt 77, the performance artist Marina Abramovic is creating new work with plans to continue past 100. More
At Lincoln Center Theater, Phillip Howze’s daring new play offers a hefty critique but takes aim at more targets than it can accommodate. Nothing makes some theatergoers as skittish as the specter of audience participation. Toying with that apprehension, Phillip Howze has designed a pre-performance interaction for people coming to see his confrontational new play, “Six Characters,” at Lincoln Center Theater.As part of what his script calls the overture, each person entering the Claire Tow Theater is meant to be asked, “Would you like to participate?,” yet given no details on which to base their answer. The query turns out to provide a frame for “Six Characters.”A metatheatrical nod to Luigi Pirandello’s canonical 1921 drama, “Six Characters in Search of an Author,” Howze’s play is an indictment of the white-centric American theater and a warning about passivity in the face of looming fascism. Are you willing to participate in reshaping the theater and the country? “Six Characters” would like to know.Taking aim at more targets than it can accommodate, the play is scattershot but genuinely experimental and, as such, daring programming by Evan Cabnet, LCT3’s departing artistic director, who was recently named to the same role at Second Stage Theater. A principal theme — Black artists navigating overwhelmingly white traditions — is clear from the preshow and interstitial music: Italian opera sung by Black stars, including Leontyne Price and Pretty Yende.Dustin Wills’s production opens with a Director (Julian Robertson) alone on the bare stage, fumbling comically with lighting and ladders. He is the first of the play’s six Black characters: a Europhile whose elegant coat is from Italy, and who has a habit of bursting into Italian. (The set is by Wills, costumes by Montana Levi Blanco.)Scott plays a cleaner and Julian Robertson is the Director in Phillip Howze’s play, a metatheatrical nod to Luigi Pirandello’s canonical 1921 work.Jeenah Moon for The New York TimesWe are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More
Erica Ash started out on sketch comedy shows in the 2000s before appearing in movies like “Scary Movie V” and the satirical reality show “Real Husbands of Hollywood.”Erica Ash, an actress and comedian known for her roles in the satirical reality show “Real Husbands of Hollywood” and on the sketch comedy show “Mad TV,” died on Sunday in Los Angeles. She was 46.The cause was cancer, her mother, Diann Ash, said in a statement on Monday.Ms. Ash began her career in the 2000s as a cast member on the sketch comedy shows “The Big Gay Sketch Show” and “Mad TV,” where she impersonated celebrities like Michelle Obama and Condoleezza Rice.She went on to appear in several dozen TV shows and films, including “Scary Movie V.” She landed a recurring role on BET’s “The Real Husbands of Hollywood,” a parody of reality TV shows that starred Kevin Hart.On Starz’s “Survivor’s Remorse,” a drama-comedy about a young basketball star’s rise to fame, she played the main character’s sister. Among her last projects, Ms. Ash appeared in the Netflix horror-comedy film, “We Have a Ghost.”Erica Chantal Ash was born on Sept. 19, 1977, in Florida, according to IMDb. She attended Emory University as a pre-medicine student, but pivoted to comedy and entertainment. In an interview in 2018 with Steve Harvey, she talked about taking a year off from studying medicine and becoming a backup singer for a Japanese band.She was popular on social media, where she spoke out on politics and posted videos of herself portraying funny characters.A list of survivors was not immediately available. More
