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    Nataki Garrett to Step Down at Oregon Shakespeare Festival

    Garrett began her tenure at the organization in August 2019, and plans to depart at the end of this month.Nataki Garrett, the artistic director of the Oregon Shakespeare Festival, is stepping down after a tumultuous period that concluded with a financial crisis so severe that the nonprofit theater warned that it was unclear whether it would be able to finish this year’s season.One of the most prominent women of color to lead an American theater, Garrett began her tenure in August 2019. She plans to resign effective May 31; the decision was reported on Friday by American Theater magazine, and then announced by the theater.Garrett has encountered a series of crises during her time at the helm of the organization, which has been one of the nation’s largest and most prestigious nonprofit theaters. Based in the southern Oregon town of Ashland, it is a destination theater, meaning most of its audience travels to get there, and it stages much of its work during the summer; before the pandemic, it had been attracting 400,000 patrons annually.Garrett faced not only the coronavirus pandemic, which forced the theater, like most others, to shutter in 2020, but also the impact of climate change, which has particularly affected the Oregon Shakespeare Festival because it has repeatedly been forced to cancel performances when smoke from wildfires has worsened air quality.She has also received pushback to her programming, which some longtime theater patrons objected to as overly left-leaning, and she hired security personnel after receiving death threats.The organization has experienced considerable turnover during her tenure — some of the leaders she brought in to help run the festival have since left — and in January she took on the title of interim executive artistic director after David Schmitz, who Garrett had hired as executive director, departed amid a leadership shake-up. Last month the company began a $2.5 million fund-raising campaign with the dire tagline: “Save Our Season. Save OSF.”Garrett declined, through a spokeswoman, to be interviewed, but issued a statement saying, in part: “We are at an inflection point in our industry, where outdated business models must evolve in order for our theaters to survive. But these challenges also pose great opportunities — to rebuild in a way that reflects where we are today and where we want to be in the future — with actors, staff, audiences, and artistic leaders who reflect the richness of our country’s diversity. This is what excites me. This is the work I came to do.”The company said in a statement that a board member, the playwright Octavio Solis, “will be stepping in to help oversee and support the artistic leadership team during this transitional phase.”The theater currently has two shows running, a production of “Romeo & Juliet,” directed by Garrett, which is described on the company’s website as exploring “the financial and class divisions of our current time,” as well as a production of “Rent.”The theater’s board chairwoman, Diane Yu, said in an interview that the fund-raising campaign is going well and that she is optimistic that this season’s other shows, including productions of “Twelfth Night” and “The Three Musketeers,” will go forward; the theater has canceled its holiday show, and Yu said what happens next year remains unclear, but that “the board is focused on keeping this theater viable — it’s important for the region and it’s important for the American theater.” More

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    Laura Pels, Devoted Supporter of Nonprofit Theater, Dies at 92

    She led a foundation that underwrote productions for numerous theater groups, as well as playwrights like Harold Pinter and Arthur Miller.Laura Pels, a leading benefactor of nonprofit theater through the Laura Pels International Foundation for Theater, which has helped a multitude of companies stage plays in New York City and beyond, died on Wednesday at a hospital near her home in Manhattan. She was 92.The cause was complications of Covid-19, her daughter Juliette J. Meeus said.Ms. Pels took control of the foundation that now bears her name in a divorce settlement with the media executive Donald A. Pels.“I decided that I was going to do exactly what I wanted with it: help the theater,” she told Playbill in 1995.She did just that, diligently guiding the foundation from the 1990s until recently.“She was incredibly involved and ‘hands on,’” Hal Witt, the foundation’s former executive director and a member of the board, wrote in an email, adding that Ms. Pels had “read all of the scripts that were submitted for funding.”There were rules: Productions had to be run by accredited nonprofit theaters; a full script, along with a 500-word statement, had to be submitted; and musicals need not apply.Ms. Pels forged relationships with leading playwrights like Arthur Miller, Edward Albee and Harold Pinter, Mr. Witt said, and with artistic directors like André Bishop at Lincoln Center Theater, James Houghton at Signature Theater and Todd Haimes at the Roundabout Theater Company.Mr. Haimes, who saved the Roundabout from bankruptcy (and who died last month at 66), said in 1995 that “as traditional sources of funding are drying up, a person like Laura who will sponsor productions makes a huge difference to nonprofit theaters like ours.”He added, “The fact that Laura is a creative person who can come up with her own projects and yet doesn’t tell us how to run the company is the nicest combination one could ask for in a supporter.”Jack Brister, the foundation’s treasurer, said in an email that during his 20 years with the foundation it had granted more than $5 million to nonprofit theaters in the United States.Josette Jeanne Bernard was born on May 1, 1931, in Saint-Vivien-de-Monségur, a village near Bordeaux, France. Her parents, Raymond and Jeanne Yvette (Dauvignac) Bernard, were schoolteachers.She grew up near Bordeaux and then studied mime and acting in Paris, before she decided that the stage was not for her. (Her daughter Juliette said her mother changed her name to Laura in her 20s because she disliked Josette.)At 25, she moved to London to study English and met Adolphe Meeus, a translator for the United Nations. They married in 1956.After living for a time in Ethiopia, the couple moved to New York City and divorced in the mid-1960s.She married Mr. Pels in 1965. A communications executive, he took control of Lin Broadcasting in 1969 and served as its chairman and president for the next 20 years.Starting in the early 1980s, Mr. Pels invested heavily in cellular communications, buying up licenses from the Federal Communications Commission that became increasingly valuable as cellphone use spread. In 1989, McCaw Cellular bought a controlling interest in Lin in a deal valued at more than $3 billion. Mr. Pels’s personal profit was estimated at nearly $175 million (more than $420 million in today’s money).Not long after, The New Yorker reported that Ms. Pels and her husband had donated more than $1 million to help the actor Tony Randall start the National Actors Theater, originally out of the Belasco Theater on Broadway, to present affordable shows by playwrights like Ibsen, Chekhov and Miller.The Pelses filed for divorce in 1993, and Ms. Pels became the foundation’s leader. (Mr. Pels died in 2014.)The foundation also funded Playwrights Horizons in Manhattan, the Brooklyn Academy of Music and the John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts in Washington. And it provided educational grants to up-and-coming artists at institutions like the Juilliard School and the Tisch School of the Arts at New York University.For many years Ms. Pels owned an apartment in Paris and Le Théâtre de L’Atelier in the city’s Montmartre neighborhood, which she ran with her daughter Juliette. In New York, she endowed an annual $10,000 cash prize for midcareer American playwrights for PEN America.In addition to Juliette, she is survived by another daughter, Valerie A. Pels; a son, Laurence, who is on the foundation’s board; and four grandchildren.In 1995, Roundabout staged a production of Mr. Pinter’s “Moonlight” at a newly opened 399-seat venue on West 46th Street, the Laura Pels Theater.“I thought it was an honor I didn’t deserve,” Ms. Pels said at the time. “But I realized that giving up a little anonymity could have a positive impact on the work I want to do.” More

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    Review: In ‘Dimanche,’ a Climate Emergency Comes to Stay

    Tornadoes whoosh dinner from the table and a shark swims through a flooded living room in a clown show that brings the environmental crisis home.A clown show and a climate tragedy, “Dimanche,” a collaboration between the Belgian companies Focus and Chaliwaté, makes a comedy of the climate crisis. Absurd and nearly wordless, the brisk 75-minute show at BAM Fisher is composed of a series of vignettes. Each is a devastating example of the climate emergency, expressed playfully — with toys, puppetry, acrobatics and nifty practical effects. “Dimanche” succeeds, in its macabre, elliptical way, in bringing the issue home, with tornadoes whooshing dinner from the table and a shark swimming through a flooded living room. The catastrophe, it’s here, there, everywhere already.The play, written and directed by Julie Tenret, Sicaire Durieux and Sandrine Heyraud, who also star, begins somewhere in the Arctic Circle. As “50 Ways to Leave Your Lover” plays, a three-person camera crew bump along in their van, eager to capture footage of a glacier calving. The shoot almost immediately goes awry and the crew shrinks to two. A similar disaster befalls an expertly puppeteered polar bear and her cub. (Although given that polar bears are prodigious swimmers, this sequence seems more melodramatic than likely.)In the third sequence, set in an ordinary home, the problem of warming has traveled south. A husband and wife and his mother (another remarkable puppet) swelter in their living room as several fans blow ineffectually. The heat then grows so terrible that the very furniture begins to melt, like the clocks in Dalí’s “The Persistence of Memory,” imagery as disturbing as it is delightful. These moves between the camera crew, the natural world and the domestic space repeat as first a tornado and then a tsunami threaten. There are more Paul Simon songs, too. Our illusion of control over the environment, it’s slip sliding away.Simon’s lyrics aside, words are sparse in this production and entirely untranslated. (What spoken language there is, it’s in Bulgarian.) The title, the French word for Sunday, is never explained, though it suggests the late-in-the-day nature of the catastrophe. Gorgeously realized and sneakily terrifying, the play moves restively from the silly to the dreadful and back and forth again. I was told that “Dimanche” was appropriate for school-age children. This will depend on how much your children enjoy the violent, weather-related deaths that end most sequences.Is clowning, however ghastly, an appropriate response to the climate crisis? We are in our current predicament, with worse to come, because too few people have taken it seriously. But some of the current remedies (carbon offsets, tax breaks for corporations who dabble in green energy) can feel like a game, so a playful approach makes a kind of sense. I am someone who tries — recycling, composting, buying secondhand, buying less, turning off lights and appliances fanatically — even as I know how little any of my trying matters. Which can lead, on darker nights, to feelings of despair. “Dimanche” — ingenious, horrifying — suggests an alternative: Sometimes, you just have to laugh.DimancheThrough May 13 at BAM Fisher, Brooklyn; bam.org. Running time: 1 hour 15 minutes. More

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    ‘Yellowjackets’ Season 2, Episode 6 Recap: Little One

    Teen Shauna goes into labor. Adult Shauna goes into the police interrogation room.Season 2, Episode 6: ‘Qui’“Yellowjackets” often favors the disturbing over the tragic. And for a moment it appears that’s how the long-awaited birth of Teen Shauna’s child is going to go. Shauna wakes up to find that the boy is gone from his crib beside her. She stumbles out of bed, disoriented, and sees her teammates in a huddle, blood dripping from their mouths.“Are they going to eat the baby?” is a question I had heard floated from viewers this season, and it makes sense that that would be the expectation. It’s the most upsetting thing that could possibly happen — or at least it’s what you would think would be the most upsetting thing that could possibly happen. This week’s episode, titled “Qui,” challenges that with a bait-and-switch scenario that swaps out the gruesome for the mournful.It turns out the nightmare of the Yellowjackets feasting on Shauna’s child is just that: A nightmare. When she awakes, her friends are gathered around her. Her baby never made it. “Why can’t you hear him cry?” Shauna weeps, trying to convince the others that her vision was real as they slowly back away.Sophie Nélisse’s sobs burrow under your bones as she cradles the corpse. Because horror has become de rigueur on this series, Nélisse’s portrayal of Shauna’s sorrow hits harder. It was easy to guess that Shauna’s baby wasn’t going to survive. After all, he doesn’t exist in the present timeline, and his chances of surviving the winter wilderness were probably slim. But the revelation that he was stillborn, directed skillfully by the filmmaker Liz Garbus, allows the viewer to experience a raft of emotions that make the final revelation all the more heartbreaking.Immediately, Shauna’s labor is not going smoothly. Misty, still reeling from Crystal’s death, is too panicked to occupy the role she so relishes of the helpful savior. Lottie, meanwhile, is gathering her followers for offerings on an animal skull. The placenta emerges first. The baby is late. As the team chants, ‘We hear the wilderness and it hears us,’ the screen fades to black on Shauna’s anguished face.Then there is a glimmer of hope. Misty places the child in Shauna’s arms as the Elliott Smith song “Pitseleh,” starts to play. It’s a track that takes its name from a Yiddish word for “little one,” but it is also, as is typical for Smith, a sad song about love lost and a relationship that was never meant to be. It sounds like a lullaby, but in context it’s an omen.Shauna’s fantasy of her baby is just realistic enough to fool the audience. Malnourished, she can’t get the boy to latch onto her breast. He cries and cries and is seemingly soothed only when Lottie comes along, offering up her own milk, a detail that begins to indicate that something here is off. When Shauna finally gets her child to breastfeed, there is sweet relief. “It’s you and me kid,” she says. “It’s you and me against the whole world.”But then that maternal happiness is shattered. The tea Natalie has brought her seems to have knocked her out, and she awakens to discover the horrific image of her progeny turned into food. But that’s yet another trick of the mind. The baby never made it.This week’s episode resets the season. The 1990s plotline offers up two events the audience has been anticipating: The birth and the death of Shauna’s child. Now, the remaining three episodes of Season 2 must contend with how Shauna reckons with the loss and how the rest of the Yellowjackets deal with her immeasurable pain. (I’m still not ruling out the possibility that the baby will be eaten. If nothing else, I assume the placenta will provide some nutrients.)In the present day, this installment finally brought the surviving women all back together, each of them making the pilgrimage to Lottie’s community. Given the magnitude of what is happening in the wilderness, the dramas of the 2020s feel like filler to get to the big reunion.Misty arrives at the commune, where she halfheartedly participates in a drum circle. Her initial goal is still to rescue Natalie, but she ends up beckoning more Yellowjackets to this place. This time there are better eats, however. “It’s a bunch of granola losers, but the food is great and the B.O. factor is surprisingly low,” Misty tells Taissa, who decides to meet her. Van drives her, and despite her skepticism and plans to immediately leave, ends up getting out of the car when she sees Lottie.On the journey over, Taissa calls Shauna, who is being interrogated by the cops. Jeff picks up and hears Tai’s pitch on the trip. In the station, Callie thinks she has an angle with Kevyn Tan, telling him that she had sex with Saracusa so any evidence he collects will be inadmissible. But Adult Shauna finds herself in a more vulnerable spot. Saracusa’s line of questioning hits a nerve, and Shauna starts to spill about how she never really wanted to be a mom.The conflicted, occasionally dispassionate way she describes her relationship to motherhood stands in opposition to Teen Shauna’s desperation. Still, her stream of consciousness confession — which seems in Melanie Lynskey’s portrayal at least partially calculated — leads to her admitting that she did have an affair with Adam Martin, which means she’s screwed.When she returns to Jeff and her minivan, he encourages her to go meet up with Tai and Van at Lottie’s.So now they are all back together. Natalie, who has found something resembling real friendship with Lisa; Misty, still scheming; Van, pushing away her problems; Taissa, trying to reckon with her second personality; and Shauna, evading the police. They stand in one line as Lottie, clothed in a blue robe turns to them. In an overhead shot we see that the gulf between Lottie and the other Yellowjackets forms the shape of that pesky symbol from the wilderness. The layout of Lottie’s camp isn’t arbitrary. Instead, it’s beckoning the darkness.During her meeting with her psychiatrist, Lottie explains that she isn’t worried that she is ill, she is worried that she never was ill, that all of the terrors she experienced were very much real and now they are re-emerging. The past has now arrived on her land in the form of these five women. Even if they are seeking peace, it’s hard to imagine that’s what they are bringing with them.More to chew onAnother great Jeff moment: Listening to N.W.A. outside the police station, trying his best to seem tough.The purple fashion options that Lottie’s community provides for newcomers are truly cute. Misty’s coat, for one.I’m still wondering where the Ben flashbacks are going to lead.That said, Ben freaking out over the birth, explaining that he only hit play on a tape during health class is pretty great.Long live the 14th Gilly.I’m rooting for the friendship between Lisa and Natalie — something genuine in this messy world. More

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    ‘shadow/land’ Review: What the Storm Washes Away

    In the play, at the Public Theater, a mother and daughter endure the devastation of Hurricane Katrina inside the bar that connects them to their pasts.There are mothers who will tell you, no matter the circumstance, exactly what’s what. Even as the sky crashes down, they’ll judge your evacuation outfit and then remind you who’s to thank that you’re still standing on two feet. In Erika Dickerson-Despenza’s “shadow/land,” which opened on Thursday at the Public Theater, that unfiltered candor is both a loving reflex and the lifeline for an endangered legacy.It’s 2005 and Hurricane Katrina is bearing down on Central City in New Orleans, but Magalee (Lizan Mitchell) has forgotten her purse inside the bar that’s belonged to her family for generations, where she and her daughter Ruth (Joniece Abbott-Pratt) dally just long enough to get trapped by the storm. Ruth is ready to cast off the club, named shadow/land, like an albatross; she wants “a bottomless, sweepin joy” that she’s not getting from tending bar, or from her husband, who’s already sheltering in the Superdome with their teenage daughter.As mother and daughter unknowingly await disaster, Magalee urges Ruth not to sell the club, though it’s a husk of what it was in its heyday. In half-lucid reveries, the 80-year-old Magalee recalls its geneology, reaching back to tenuous boom times for Black enterprise. Ruth knows the story well enough to join her mother’s refrain in a kind of call-and-response. “Learn how to desire what you already got,” Magalee bluntly says of her daughter’s hard-won inheritance.Of course, what they already have is about to be drowned in oil-black water. It’s a collision course that Dickerson-Despenza and the director Candis C. Jones render in 90 dread-filled, soul-seeking minutes, zooming in on the devastation of lives otherwise seen by outsiders only from a drone-footage distance. Behind the bar, a wall of black-and-white photos chronicle Magalee and Ruth’s ancestors, as floodwaters gurgle up through the floor and leave their survivors stranded on the bar top (set design is by Jason Ardizzone-West).As in her play “Cullud Wattah,” which explores the fallout of the Flint, Mich., water crisis, Dickerson-Despenza dramatizes the consequences of environmental racism and its disproportionate impact on Black women. “shadow/land,” which the Public Theater produced as an audio play in 2021, is a poetic excavation of memory, tracing the ripple effects of triumphs and trauma through generations. Magalee also remembers, for example, when the authorities blew up a levy that flooded poor Black neighborhoods when she was a girl. Katrina’s wrath would also hit Black residents hardest, and its aftermath reverberated long after the water receded.Dickerson-Despenza’s language is rich in lyricism and figurative association, with annotated influences in the text that include Adrienne Rich and Zora Neale Hurston. And her dialogue calls attention to, among other things, colorism, queerness and the cultural imperialism of New Orleans tourism. It may be that the play tries to take on too much, feeling at times more like a treatise than a character-driven drama, but that’s partly because so much is in danger of being lost. (“shadow/land” is her first in a planned 10-play cycle about Katrina.)Of the expressive tools that “shadow/land” deploys, the cast is the most immediate and legible. A third character, known as the grand marshal, (Christine Shepard) haunts the show’s periphery, snapping limbs in tailored and shimmering Creole finery, interjecting verse that illuminates the allure of the city’s native eroticism and proximity to death. (The movement director is Jill M. Vallery and the costumes are by Azalea Fairley.)Abbott-Pratt and Mitchell are challenged with playing characters who are held captive not only by society, but by the script, which is somewhat weighed down by the exposition inherent to oral histories. But they embody the push and pull of a mother-daughter bond with captivating ease and grace. At once imperious and fragile, Mitchell’s Magalee may not remember what she ate for breakfast, but she will never let Ruth forget the importance of honoring their predecessors, the sacrifices they made and the gifts they left behind. Who else will share their stories when the evidence gets washed away?shadow/landThrough May 28 at the Public Theater, Manhattan; publictheater.org. Running time: 1 hour 30 minutes. More

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    ‘Hong Kong Mississippi’ Review: The Bluesman Next Door

    Wesley Du explores complex intersections of identity in a coming-of-age story about a Chinese American boy who finds escape in Black music.Wesley Du knows that a gawky Asian kid isn’t who you’d expect to wind up playing the blues. Pinkie, the character written and performed by Du in “Hong Kong Mississippi,” now running at La MaMa, in Manhattan, is 11 years old when he first hears the likes of Son House and Elmore James through the walls of the grubby San Francisco apartment he shares with his mother. They run the Chinese restaurant downstairs, but Pinkie’s wistful, adolescent mind belongs to the tunes from the club next door, with their echoes of pain and promise.Pinkie’s gravitation toward the blues, a genre defined by Black artists and legacies of racial injustice, is partly a product of circumstance and osmosis. A Chinese takeout counter abutting a music hall is typical of the Tenderloin district in the 1990s, when Du was listening to Michael Jackson on the radio and absorbing style cues from “The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air.” But Pinkie also describes “a certain oddness in being raised Chinese American” that generates his organic affinity with Black artists as fellow outsiders and their vibrant means of expression.When it comes to wooing girls, for example, he comically borrows a touch of hip-hop swagger; and when a woman grinds down his spirit, he channels his pain into soulful music, guitar strings offering a kind of transcendence. That woman, Pinkie’s formative heartbreaker, is his mother, affectionately played by Du with a lilting accent. Pinkie reveres her as his only family, but she sours on her son and his impractical pursuit of music. Pinkie’s unlikely father figure is a gruff bluesman next door known as Cannonball, who at first tries to dismiss him in a flurry of racially modified expletives before eventually becoming his mentor (the play is titled after Pinkie’s stage name).Du — who writes in the program that he was expelled from a playwright program at the University of California, Los Angeles, and now works as a therapist — is a deft and intuitive storyteller, crafting a witty and tender coming-of-age story in concise, vivid detail. Du’s rapport with the audience, as he plays more than a dozen characters in 75 minutes, favors high-fives over confessional hand-wringing, in the manner of a neighborhood kid shooting the breeze. In his writing, Du traces complex intersections of identity with easy assurance, allowing psychological weight to accumulate rather than spelling it out for emphasis.The director Craig Belknap finds ingenuity in simplicity, as with a dishcloth that, at one point, is wadded up into a basketball then later flattened against the waist into a too-tight dress. Fluid, vibe-setting lighting (by Eric Norbury), in Chinese reds and jazz club blues, and cleverly expressive sound (by Bill Froggatt) make the small black box theater fantastically versatile. Like Pinkie’s own escape into the blues, “Hong Kong Mississippi” proves what artists can do with modest means but an abundance of passion, pluck and reasons to play.Hong Kong MississippiThrough May 14 at La MaMa, Manhattan; lamama.org. Running time: 1 hour 20 minutes. More

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    ‘Ted Lasso,’ Season 3, Episode 8 Recap: Ends and Beginnings

    Ted prepares for a new reality, Nate plunges in and Keeley (maybe) steps away.Season 3, Episode 8: ‘We’ll Never Have Paris’This is yet another episode that feels somewhat disjointed, following multiple story lines that don’t overlap much or offer a strong through-line. One could make the case — as I did in the headline — that this is an episode about the ends and beginnings of relationships. But the subplots nonetheless felt more like separate pieces than parts of a whole.Ted and HenryWe open with the news that AFC Richmond has beaten Aston Villa 3-0 for their second decisive victory in a row, an outcome that was easy to anticipate following last episode’s discovery that Total Football with Jamie as facilitator rather than scorer is a winning recipe. (To underline the point we hear the play-by-play of Jamie passing to Dani for a goal.) Moments later, we learn the win streak is up to four.“You have to think,” one of the commentators declares, “that no one is happier than Coach Ted Lasso.”Well, if you did think that, it surely became unthunk as soon as we cut to a close-up of Ted looking not at all happy. He’s in the pub with his ex-wife, Michelle, and her new beau — and their former marriage counselor — Dr. Jacob. “Please, I insist, call me Jake,” he tells Ted, proving that he is just as bad at reading a room as he is at meeting a minimal standard of professional ethics.Michelle and Jake are dropping off Henry with Ted as they take a surprise trip to Paris. (“Jake told me on the plane,” Michelle explains.) Ted may not know much about Europe, but he is confident of this arithmetic: Paris + newish couple = marriage proposal. This assumption is confirmed when, asked where they would propose if they could do so “anywhere in the world,” Trent and Roy in unison cite the City of Lights.This entails a meeting of the Diamond Dogs — plus the rookie member Trent but minus a cranky Roy — though a brief one. Once the others learn that an engagement is merely Ted’s assumption, they agree to follow Higgins’s advice to “find out before you flip out.” It’s OK, though, because this meeting is largely a setup for … But no, that would be getting ahead of ourselves.Ted — again, not happy — decides not to wait for Michelle’s return but instead to ask Rebecca to procure a private investigator to shadow the couple in Paris. Even when he reads to Henry (a children’s book by the Premier League footballer Marcus Rashford), he is consumed: Does “Mommy’s friend” Jake read to Henry? Watch TV with him?Granted the wish to do whatever he wants on a day that Ted and Beard are taking off, Henry opts for a Premier League game and, wouldn’t you know, the only team playing is Rupert and Nate’s West Ham United. So the fellas go to the game, deck out Henry in a West Ham jersey, and shout and wave to get Nate’s attention on the sideline. Again, more on this soon.We next see Ted, Henry and Beard sitting outdoors at the pub as a busker plays “Hey Jude” nearby. My mind immediately went to the song’s Paul-John-Julian back story, which Beard then helpfully unpacked for Henry before advising him, “I know right now it feels like you’re in a sad song. But you, young man, you have the power to take a sad song and make it better.”Ted has by now absented himself to call Rebecca, who had texted to say she had “info.” Its precise nature, however, was apparently revealed to Ted while we were Beatling with Beard and Henry. The most we hear from Rebecca is, “But seriously, who gives a flying [expletive] if Michelle gets engaged,” which is suggestive but not dispositive.Is the omission deliberate and, if so, what is it intended to accomplish? Time will tell. But the tug that Henry exerts on his father’s heart, while scarcely new, is ever more evident — in particular during the goodbyes that close the episode, when Ted can scarcely let go of Henry’s backpack.NateWhen we first run across Nate this episode, he is in bed in the morning. Moreover, he is not alone but with Jade, our favorite hostess at Nate’s favorite Greek restaurant. Upon waking, she quickly determines that, charmingly, Nate had already gotten up, showered, shaved, brushed his teeth and gotten back into bed. Alas, love-struck boy that he is, he quickly falls into the trap of trying to “label” the “relationship” while claiming he’s trying to do no such thing. Slow down, tiger.I confess I feel somewhat disappointed that we went directly from Jade not standing Nate up at dinner to the two comfortably ensconced in bed for what is evidently not the first time. (Indeed, in a later scene, she accedes to the label “boyfriend.”) We have not yet seen a single real conversation between the two, a glimpse of why it is they enjoy each other’s company. We’ve gone straight from romantic tension to romantic fulfillment without witnessing the romantic journey at all, at least so far.Which is perhaps part of the reason Nate’s most moving relationship is still his complicated one with Ted. I noted last episode that even as we watched Good Nate’s re-emergence from Bad Nate, it had been some time since we’d seen him at work at West Ham. Could Good Nate survive in the malignant shadow of Rupert?Smitten, he evidently can, even if only briefly and only with Rupert absent. Nate gathers a couple of subordinates together for a meeting of the “Love Hounds,” a shameless rip-off of …well, I hardly need to tell you. It goes about as well as one might expect, which is to say that the drop-off from the “Diamond Dogs” — I told you we’d get here — is comparable to that between Alvy Singer’s first and second lobster dates in “Annie Hall.” Does the awkward fiasco remind Nate of what made his time at Richmond with Ted special? Oh yes, it most assuredly does.And in case he abruptly forgot, he gets another reminder when Ted, Beard and West-Ham-clothed Henry show up at his match. Visibly stunned at first, he then briefly allows a small smile past his lips.Yet it’s soon clear that Nate still has a way to go. When Rupert later texts him, “Sorry about Ted being there. Won’t happen again,” Nate begins to type, “It’s okay, I thought it was funny.” But even that level of moderate snark seems insufficient. So Nate deletes it in favor of a corporately cold “Good. Thank you.”Still, his ongoing path seems clear. Even in the aforementioned “boyfriend” scene with Jade, what lingers is the smile on his face as he looks at a news photo of Ted, Henry and Beard at the match.Keeley and Jack (and Roy and Jamie)Did I mention the preponderance of red flags in this relationship last week? Why, yes I did. But whether or not the relationship is actually over, as this episode suggests it may be, the developments are connected only peripherally to Jack’s creepily over-the-top love-bombing.Rather, we have what could be called a fairly literal “ghost in the machine”: a selfie sex video Keeley filmed for a past paramour that has made its way onto the internet and, by extension, Keeley’s phone. Keeley is mortified and begs the seemingly omnipotent — read: ultrarich — Jack to fix the situation. “I’m gonna take care of it,” Jack promises.But the photos ripple outward quickly. When Sam tells the rest of the team, Roy leaves the room angrily while Jamie looks worried. Could the latter be wondering what terrifying vengeance the former might be contemplating? Jamie doesn’t know about the rope-dipped-in-red-paint scenario, but he had firsthand experience with the genitalia strings.But no, it’s simpler than that. Jamie is genuinely concerned, as he expresses near the end of the episode — and concerned not only that the video was leaked but that he may have been unintentionally responsible. Keeley had sent it to him, of course, and he confirms that his password is the highly crackable “password,” even if he cunningly disguised it by using two “S”es. For anyone rooting for a Jamie-Keeley reunion, this is a clearly promising scene. For the rest of us …Roy is genuinely angry, and not merely at the leak but at what was leaked. He approaches Keeley and, after saying all the right things, moves on to say precisely the wrong thing: “Who’s it for?” — a question to which he has almost certainly guessed the answer. Keeley promptly exits, and who could blame her?An overdue aside here: What in the world is the show doing with Roy and with Keeley? The original sin was not merely breaking up the two of them, but doing it at the start of this season (and so offhandedly) rather than at the end of last one, when the emotional impact would have been exponentially greater. The show has only compounded that misstep with how it has presented each character since — let me start with Roy and then return to Keeley at the end of the section.I made the case last season that Roy had become the star of the show, and it wasn’t a hard case to make. But this season? His screen time is a fraction of what it was, and his charming, obscenity-laden crankiness has devolved into outright sadism. (See, again, the paint-rope and penis-strings.) And now this scene with Keeley?Was Brett Goldstein, who plays Roy, too busy with “Shrinking” — he is one of the creators of the show, which is quite good — to occupy as central a role as he did last season? Were the other writers punishing him for his televisual two-timing? Whatever the explanation, “Ted Lasso” is killing one of the best things it had going. No matter what the intended narrative payoff, happy or sad, it’s hard to envision it making up for the way Roy’s been portrayed for two-thirds of the season and counting.Sorry not sorry: Juno Temple in “Ted Lasso.”Apple TV+But back to Keeley and Jack. It turns out that the latter’s “taking care of it” is not quite as envisioned, when Keeley receives the abjectly apologetic note that she is expected to post to social media. Confronted about the statement, Jack demurs that her dad’s lawyers drafted it. But her solution to the dilemma is simply another, different apology note for Keeley to put her name to.Keeley refuses. And after showing her hand probably more than she intended — “the person I’m seeing, the person whose company I’m funding” — Jack shows herself the door with no promise she will return.I confess that this scene didn’t really work for me in any direction: On the one hand, Jack seemed far too quick to make such an existential issue of the dispute, even for someone clearly accustomed to getting her way; on the other, Keeley seemed implausibly surprised that a lover or a boss — let alone someone who is both — would be unhappy about the public exposure of her partner/employee’s sex tape.But this relationship has always seemed a bit forced, a way to give Keeley’s P.R. firm story line the semblance of a plot without actually spending any time on her job itself. Keeley has been largely broken off from the story of Ted and the team with the premise of embarking on her own career. Yet instead of giving us any meaningful sense of that career, her season has consisted almost exclusively of Shandy drama followed by Jack drama, with regular scenes to discuss each with Rebecca.Indeed, there are times it’s hard to believe — between traveling to Amsterdam with Rebecca, Aurora Borealising in Norway with Jack, and then taking the day off for mini-golf — that Keeley has a job at all. Likewise with Jack, who was initially introduced as something of a business titan but who seems more and more to be the daughter of a billionaire who dabbles in investing while reserving most of her energy for amusing herself.While I’m on the subject: It’s wonderful that “Ted Lasso” has made such a clear effort to have substantive female characters in a show about a men’s sports team. But it would be awfully nice if one of its two female multimillionaires had achieved her fortune through skill or perseverance rather than marrying or inheriting it from a man. (How much time, for that matter, has the show devoted to Rebecca’s job? Awfully little since Season 1, when her “job” was principally undermining Ted.)Last season, Keeley and Roy were the delightful hub around which much of “Ted Lasso” revolved. This season, they’ve both spiraled out into disappointing spots on the periphery of the show.ColinKeeley’s relationship with Jack is not the only potential casualty of the leaked sex videos, which Colin initially laughs off with a self-protective “I guess I know what I’ll be doing this weekend.” But after Isaac commands the team to empty their cellphones of any signs of past sexual encounters, he sees Colin lagging behind and snatches his device. We don’t see what Isaac sees, and obviously we don’t have to. If we didn’t know it already, Colin’s crestfallen face speaks as loudly as any dialogue.What will Isaac do? I have no more idea than any of you. I expect there will be considerably more to say about this next week.Odds and endsThere was no mention of Rebecca’s charming Dutchman from Episode 6. Does this mean he really was just a one-night love affair to remind Rebecca she still had the ability to fall so happily? Or is he being held in reserve for a late-season surprise? Obviously, I’d prefer (and honestly, anticipate) the latter. But I’d ideally like it sooner than later, by which I mean immediately.So, Keeley sent a topless photo to one of her teachers when she was 15? Are we supposed to find that amusing?On a lighter note, here’s to Jamie’s extensive inventory of deodorant sprays.As with the Episode 5 locker-room banter regarding “She’s All That,” “My Fair Lady” and “Pygmalion,” I thoroughly enjoyed Dani’s reference to “Les Misérables,” followed by another player (left back Jeff Goodman?) concurring, “[Expletive] yeah, 24601!”Likewise, Rebecca’s description, however unfounded, of the Eiffel Tower as a “lamppost with a publicist.”I’m not entirely sure what to make of Alyssa, Jack’s college friend whom she and Keeley meet at mini-golf. Perhaps an ex? More