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    A Rare ‘Othello’ Puts the Spotlight on Race

    With a Black-led production of Shakespeare’s play, an Austrian theater hopes to jump-start a conversation about racism and the need for diversity on the country’s stages.ST. PÖLTEN, Austria — “Speak of me as I am,” Othello urges in the wrenching final scene of Shakespeare’s tragedy. Yet for centuries, those words — a plea for accurate representation — were spoken, by and large, by white actors.Nicholas Monu, who stars in a new production of “Othello,” running through Dec. 4 at the Landestheater Niederösterreich here, is pretty sure that he is only the second Black performer to play the role in Austrian theater history. The last time was nearly 170 years ago, in 1853, when the pioneering African-American actor Ira Aldridge held Viennese audiences spellbound as the Moor of Venice.As directed by the young Black British director Rikki Henry, this new “Othello” breaks ground in a country where artists of color remain a rarity onstage.The majority of Austria’s population of around nine million is white and was born here, although the percentage of foreigners and people with migration backgrounds has been rising steadily in recent years. Like its larger and more ethnically varied neighbor Germany, Austria has a robust system of state-funded theaters that employ full-time acting ensembles; these, like the country at large, are overwhelmingly white.From left: Michael Scherff, Tim Breyvogel, Laura Laufenberg, Nicholas Monu, Marthe Lola Deutschmann, and Tilman Rose in “Othello” at the Landestheater Niederösterreich.Alexi PelekanosWith its new “Othello,” the Landestheater is jump-starting a conversation about racism in Austrian society and the need for diversity on the country’s stages. According to the theater, there has never been a German-language production of “Othello” with both a Black director and star before, and it seems significant that the first is taking place not in a major cultural metropolis, but in St. Pölten, a small city 40 miles outside Vienna.“It’s often said that innovation comes from the provinces,” Marie Rötzer, the Landestheater’s artistic director since 2016, said in an interview. Recently, her playhouse has been punching above its weight, with productions including a stellar 2019 staging of the Nobel Prize-winning author Elfriede Jelinek’s allegory of the Trump presidency, “Am Königsweg,” and a 2020 “Hamlet” that was Henry’s house debut, and which won a Netroy, the prestigious Austrian theater award.“With this ‘Othello,’ we’re addressing wounds,” said the Landestheater’s director, Marie Rötzer. “The wounds of racism, hostility towards refugees, xenophobia and the isolationism that you often find in Austria.” David Payr for The New York TimesAlthough Shakespeare has long been venerated in the German-speaking world, “Othello” is a comparative rarity on its theater programs.“Normally, nobody here wants to touch it,” said Tim Breyvogel, the German actor who plays Iago, in an interview after a recent matinee performance. In the wrong hands, he said, an “Othello” production can legitimize stereotypes about Black men. And then there’s the issue of casting, he added: Even in Austria, most theaters now realize that presenting the title role in blackface was unacceptable.Rötzer said she knew her theater’s “Othello” must have a Black actor in the title role. After Henry’s success with “Hamlet,” she approached him about directing the show. Henry and Monu’s experiences as Black men helped the theater to “develop an awareness about how to treat topics that are part of the Black community,” she said.“With this ‘Othello,’ we’re addressing wounds: the wounds of racism, hostility towards refugees, xenophobia and the isolationism that you often find in Austria,” Rötzer said.Henry, 33, said in an interview that it was “a challenge to try to work out what the story would now tell in Austria — because, of course, race relations are different in Austria than they are in England.”Monu, left, and Tim Breyvogel, playing Iago. The production is set in the world of professional boxing.Alexi PelekanosHis strikingly contemporary production is set in the world of professional boxing, where Othello is a heavyweight prizefighter. “My idea was of someone who was incredibly lonely and someone who was isolated,” Henry said.That sense of exclusion and alienation, the director said, was something that everyone, regardless of their skin color, could relate to. The boxing frame also helped to motivate Iago’s machinations and reveal the character’s racism, he added. “Iago’s manipulations and reasonings became more alive, because boxing is so competitive and relies on intrigue,” Henry said.The Black Lives Matter movement was heating up as he worked on the show last year, but Henry said he was careful not to take the production in an overtly political direction. “We didn’t want to say to the audience, ‘You’re racist!’” Henry said. “Theater isn’t supposed to be accusing anyone. It’s supposed to be supporting and maybe ennobling them in some way.”Rikki Henry, the production’s British director, said it was “a challenge to try to work out what the story would now tell in Austria,” adding, “race relations are different in Austria than they are in England.”Michael Obex“Maybe it just sparks some interesting questions that you haven’t asked before, like, ‘How do I treat that brown person who delivers my mail every morning?’” he added.Monu, 56, who was born in Nigeria but lives in Salzburg, Austria, said that racism in Austrian society largely lay beneath the surface. “People don’t give it a lot of thought. There hasn’t been that journey that America has been forced to make, because of slavery, Jim Crow, etc. — or that Germany has been forced to make, because of the Second World War,” he said.“It’s not an aggressive form of racism,” he added. “You’re just not taken seriously or not seen as on quite the same level as a human being.”Monu, who began his acting career in England, is a former ensemble member of two of the most significant theaters in the German-speaking world: the Schaubühne in Berlin and the Burgtheater in Vienna. Yet despite having benefited from the ensemble system, he said it would need updating if it hoped to reflect the increasingly multiethnic reality of Europe today.Europe’s ensemble system, in which theaters have a troupe of permanent actors, was “a fantastic system, designed for brothers like this,” said Monu, right, referring to Breyvogel, left.David Payr for The New York Times“It’s a fantastic system, designed for brothers like this,” he said, gesturing toward Breyvogel, who sat next to him during the interview, “to be able to go from here to Berlin to Vienna, and be able to fit straight in, because the system is pretty much the same everywhere.”In order for things to change, Austrian theater administrators and audiences will need to become more familiar with seeing actors of color and hearing different accents onstage, Monu said. He saw some encouraging signs, he added: When he joined the Burgtheater in the early 2000s, he was the only Black actor in the ensemble; today, there are three.“If you’re going to be truly diverse, then you’ve got to open up your doors towards people who don’t sound like you, look like you,” Monu said. “Sometimes the journey’s going to be unpleasant or uncomfortable.”Monu said he hoped that this “Othello” might inspire local audiences take that journey. “I can try my best to touch as many people as I can, just by saying, ‘Hey, you know what, I’m the first Black guy you’ve ever seen onstage — and speaking German.’” More

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    Prison Won’t Be a Riot for the QAnon Shaman, Jimmy Kimmel Says

    “Prosecutors are recommending 51 months behind bars, after which, he will be remanded into the custody of ‘Dancing With the Stars,’” Kimmel joked.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.Dancing With the InsurrectionistOn Thursday night, Jimmy Kimmel joked that Jacob Chansley, “the infamous insurrectionist” known as the QAnon Shaman who took part in the Capitol attack on Jan. 6, “is probably not gonna be storming anything any time soon.”This week, prosecutors suggested that Chansley be sentenced to more than four years in prison for his role in the incursion, which would be the most severe punishment yet for a participant.“Prosecutors are recommending 51 months behind bars, after which he will be remanded into the custody of ‘Dancing With the Stars.’” — JIMMY KIMMEL“Weird to think the QAnon Shaman could get four years in prison when the guy who encouraged him to do it could get four more years in the White House.” — JIMMY KIMMEL“And also, can we stop calling him a shaman now? I mean, that would make half the fans at the Buffalo Bills game shamans too.” — JIMMY KIMMEL“I support a four-year prison sentence for any adult wearing a costume.” — JAMES CORDEN“They’re asking for three years for the riot, and an extra year because he used to be in an improv group.” — JAMES CORDEN“He may be going to prison for years. Even worse, they’re also making a movie about all of this: ‘The Shaman-Shank Redemption.’” — JAMES CORDENThe Punchiest Punchlines (Thank You for Your Service Edition)“It is Veterans Day here in the United States, the day on which we honor the men and women who served and fought in wars to defend our country so the rest of us can fight on Facebook.” — JIMMY KIMMEL“The closest most of us have come to a war zone is shopping on Black Friday at T.J. Maxx.” — JIMMY FALLON“Yup, the only people who have seen more combat than you guys are flight attendants on Southwest.” — JIMMY FALLON“I remember telling my dad that I thought a life in uniform might be right for me, so he went out and got me a job application for Pizza Hut.” — JIMMY FALLONThe Bits Worth WatchingThe “Daily Show” correspondent Desi Lydic put the spotlight on female veterans throughout “hist-HER-y.”Also, Check This OutJulia Child and a fridge friend in an archival image, as seen in the documentary “Julia,” directed by Julie Cohen and Betsy West. Paul Child/Schlesinger Library, Radcliffe Institute, Harvard University/Sony Pictures ClassicsA new documentary about Julia Child explores her influence on how Americans cook and eat. More

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    On Paris Stages, Black Directors Forge a New Course

    Representation for dramatic artists of color is improving, but few Black creators get to be their own bosses. Two recent productions show what France’s mainstream theater is missing.PARIS — On a recent Sunday evening, Paris played host to a theater troupe that had come a long way. The Grand Théâtre Itinérant de Guyane traveled from French Guiana, nestled north of Brazil on the Atlantic coast of South America, with its latest production: “Bernarda Alba From Yana,” staged by the company’s director, Odile Pedro Leal.Yana, here, means Guiana. In this shrewd adaptation of Federico García Lorca’s “The House of Bernarda Alba,” the repressed sisters at the heart of the Spanish play speak Creole and dream of men who farm sugar cane. And for the first time I can recall in over a decade of theatergoing in Paris, the audience around me was predominantly Black — a situation that shouldn’t be so rare in such a racially diverse city.Yet “Bernarda Alba From Yana” was performed only once, and not in a major Paris playhouse. Instead, it was presented at the Maurice Ravel Conservatory, a training institution, as part of Le Mois Kréyol (Creole Month), a festival dedicated to promoting artists from France’s numerous overseas territories, which include once colonized islands and regions dotted around the world, from the Pacific to the Caribbean to the Indian Ocean.Since these territories are home to many people of color, Le Mois Kréyol, which was created in 2017 by the Caribbean-born choreographer Chantal Loïal, also celebrates French Blackness — and is a reminder of what the country’s mainstream theater is missing. Broadway’s power players signed a sweeping diversity pact in August; in France, overseas theatermakers and their peers of African origin remain shut out of leadership positions.Of France’s five national theaters and 38 “national dramatic centers,” none has a Black director — not even the national dramatic center in La Réunion, a multicultural French island near Madagascar. Although representation is slowly improving onstage, with more diverse drama school cohorts and regular instances of colorblind casting, it has yet to translate to Black creators being their own bosses.The dancer and activist Josephine Baker, who will be interred in the Panthéon, France’s storied tomb of heroes, on Nov. 30, is the subject of two productions this winter; neither of them is directed by a Black artist. Just this season, the lives of Nelson Mandela and Angela Davis made it to the stage in similar fashion; and in a country that prides itself on being colorblind, asking why Black directors weren’t considered is taboo.From left, Irène Bicep, Jean-Marc Lucret and Ophélie Joh in “Bernarda Alba From Yana.”Peggy FarguesAll of these shows may turn out to be good, but “Bernarda Alba From Yana” and a new production by the Guinea-born playwright Hakim Bah, “Out of Sweat” (“À Bout de Sueurs”), point to a richer way forward. It was obvious that both were steeped in an intimate knowledge of the cultures at hand. The acting palette also departed from French norms to embrace local accents, which tend to be erased elsewhere in favor of a “neutral” delivery, as well as a greater range of body language.In Pedro Leal’s hands, this makes “Bernarda Alba” a warmer proposition than usual. In lieu of the strait-laced grief often associated with García Lorca’s play, in “Bernarda Alba From Yana,” the women sing and dance through their pain. The mourning scene for Bernarda’s second husband, early in the play, is a vivid ritual, set to a Guianese song: The matriarch’s five daughters assemble around her, chanting, clapping and writhing on the floor. Later, two of the sisters, bored by the complete isolation that the domineering Bernarda has forced on them, shimmy and sway their hips in a dance-off.In that scene and elsewhere, Sarah Jean-Baptiste makes a mercurial Adela, and there is a delightful sense of mischief to many of the actors’ performances. Micheline Dieye and Pedro Leal shine as the family’s willful servants, as does Jean-Marc Lucret in a cross-dressing take on the role of Martirio. Far from altering the play’s dynamics, the contrast between the characters’ impetuous physicality and the atmosphere of repression is made all the more acute.Pedro Leal made subtle tweaks to the text to emphasize the Guianese setting. (García Lorca’s frequent references to heat offer built-in help.) Creole is so rarely heard onstage that it’s a treat to listen to performers getting lines in the language, with enough context that their meaning is clear to non-Creole speakers. Since French was imposed as the official language on many overseas territories, there is something slightly meta about hearing Bernarda (Maïté Vauclin) repeatedly berating her daughters when she hears them slipping into Creole, with the angry demand: “French in my house!”The set was presumably designed for ease of touring: curtains, some wire fence and a few seats, including a crescent-shaped Saramaka stool, must do the job from start to finish. Nevertheless, “Bernarda Alba From Yana” is a milestone for such a young company. While Pedro Leal has worked as a director in mainland France and in Guiana since the 1990s, the Grand Théâtre Itinérant de Guyane was founded only in 2017, and it is now supported by public funding. It is a part of French culture, and deserves to be seen.From left, Diarietou Keita, Vhan Olsen Dombo and Claudia Mongumu in “Out of Sweat,” directed by Hakim Bah and Diane Chavelet.Raphaël KesslerThe same could be said of the work of Bah, 34, who lives alternately in France and Guinea, where he co-founded a theater festival, Univers des Mots (Universe of Words). Bah’s plays have earned him several distinctions; “Out of Sweat,” the latest, won the 2019 Laurent Terzieff-Pascale de Boysson prize, which comes with a spot in the lineup at the Lucernaire theater.The pandemic delayed the premiere twice, but “Out of Sweat,” directed by Bah and Diane Chavelet, has now found its way to the smallest of the Lucernaire’s three stages. It is masterfully, economically built around just a handful of scenes and characters, who are from an unspecified African country. Fifi, who has immigrated to France, returns home for a fleeting visit. There, she convinces Binta, an old friend saddled with an unfaithful husband, to seduce a Frenchman online, in the hope of securing a better future.Even though the end of the play was inspired by a real-life tragedy, Bah’s approach is more poetic than realistic. What drives “Out of Sweat” is the inner logic and musicality of each scene. When Fifi and Binta are reunited, they repeat each other’s names again and again, with a mix of surprise, growing recognition and suspicion, truncating sentences in ways that build up to an intriguing rhythm.Diarietou Keita (Fifi) and Claudia Mongumu (Binta) play up both the comedy and the pathos in their relationship with vivid physicality. As Binta’s unfaithful husband, Bachir, on the other hand, Vhan Olsen Dombo is withdrawn, then suddenly destructive. In a monologue set in an airport lounge, his performance morphs into spoken word and ends in stomping and piercing cries of frustration, his pace closely mirrored by a live guitarist and electronic musician accompanying the action, Victor Pitoiset.Yet even when their behavior is extreme, all the characters in “Out of Sweat” feel rooted in a nuanced understanding of the two worlds they inhabit. Like Pedro Leal and her company, Bah is obviously ready for bigger stages. When will French theater give them, and other Black directors, a permanent seat at the table?Le Mois Kréyol. Festival directed by Chantal Loïal. Further productions around France through Nov. 28.À Bout de Sueurs. Directed by Hakim Bah and Diane Chavelet. Le Lucernaire, through Dec. 5. More

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    Christopher Walken Destroys Banksy Painting on BBC Comedy Show

    A genuine painting by Banksy, the street artist whose work has sold for millions, was gone in seconds as the actor painted over the artwork as a gag on the show.With a few swipes of a paint roller, the actor Christopher Walken wiped away a real Banksy painting from the side of a building in England on an episode of BBC’s “The Outlaws” that aired Wednesday night.Though Banksy’s work has fetched millions of dollars at auction, Mr. Walken unceremoniously painted over the artwork on the comedy-drama series, which is set in Banksy’s hometown, Bristol.A spokesperson from Big Talk Productions, the show’s production company, confirmed that the artwork was “an original Banksy,” and that Mr. Walken painted over it during filming, “ultimately destroying it.”Mr. Walken plays Frank on the BBC comedy show “The Outlaws.” Stephane De Sakutin/Agence France-Presse — Getty ImagesThe production company offered no more details, and a representative for Banksy did not respond to a request for comment.Banksy, a street artist and one of the world’s most expensive artists, has rigidly maintained his anonymity. He has often manipulated the news media with stunts, notably in 2018 when a painting self-destructed moments after it was sold for $1.4 million at auction. That painting, retitled “Love is in the Bin,” was recently resold by Sotheby’s in London for $25.4 million, a record for the artist.Big Talk/Four EyesIn the BBC show, directed by and starring the comedian Stephen Merchant, Mr. Walken’s character, Frank, is ordered to perform community service. He and several other characters don high-visibility vests as they clean up graffiti from a wall on the side of a building in Bristol.Mr. Walken’s character, fulfilling his duties, knocks over a board leaning against the wall, revealing a painted black-and-white rat and two canisters, recognizable in Banksy’s style even if the word “BANKSY” weren’t spray-painted on the wall in orange.“Look at this rat I found,” he says to his supervisor, played by Jessica Gunning, who, thoroughly uninterested, spends her supervision reading with her back turned to the wall.Big Talk/Four EyesAfter he explains it was a graffiti rat, not a real one, she responds: “Council said paint over any graffiti, so crack on.”“It’s awfully good,” he protests.“Less debating, more painting,” she shoots back.Mr. Walken shrugs, and then the camera zooms tightly on the artwork as he covers it entirely with six strokes.The BBC did not immediately put a clip of the scene on YouTube, but it made the episode available to watch on its iPlayer service for those in Britain. More

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    Zadie Smith’s First Play Brings Chaucer to Her Beloved Northwest London

    Two decades into her career, the writer’s stage debut is “The Wife of Willesden,” an adaptation of the Wife of Bath’s tale set and staged in the British capital.LONDON — Zadie Smith grew up around the corner from the Kiln Theater, which sits on the bustling Kilburn High Road in Northwest London. She took drama classes at the theater as a child and remembers when a fire caused significant damage to the building more than 30 years ago.Now, her relationship with the theater has become even more intertwined, with the Kiln’s staging of Smith’s first play, “The Wife of Willesden,” which runs until Jan. 15.“It’s very moving, if I allow myself to think about it very much — which I don’t, we don’t have time,” Smith, 46, said in a recent interview at the theater. “We’ve got work to do.”“The Wife of Willesden” — which opens on Thursday — is an adaptation of the Wife of Bath’s tale from Geoffrey Chaucer’s “The Canterbury Tales,” transposing the prologue and tale into a love letter to contemporary London (Willesden is an area neighboring the theater).The author of numerous essays and five novels — many of which, like “NW” and her debut, “White Teeth” are also set in northwestern London — Smith is a newcomer to playwriting.“Doing this is really, genuinely new, having colleagues and stuff, wearing a lanyard,” Smith said, laughing, during a lunch break from rehearsals. “This is a new part of my life.”Indhu Rubasingham, the show’s director, said that she had entered the creative partnership with Smith with some trepidation. When Smith is writing a novel, “She’s on her own. She doesn’t have to check in with anyone,” said Rubasingham, who is also the theater’s artistic director. “I was like, ‘Oh God, this is going to be a whole different experience, how is she going to take it?’”As it turned out, “She’s been incredibly collaborative, really,” Rubasingham said.“The Wife of Willesden” is not the first time that Smith has explored different forms of writing. This year, she released a children’s book, “Weirdo,” co-written with her husband, Nick Laird, a novelist and poet, and she appeared as a songwriter and background vocalist on “91,” the lead track of Jack Antonoff’s most recent Bleachers album.The play weaves together several threads from Smith’s life. It was written as part of the celebrations for the local district of Brent’s designation as the “London Borough of Culture 2020” — a project established three years ago by the capital’s mayor, Sadiq Khan, that awards money to an area of the city to put on a yearlong program of cultural events.Smith described watching the actors rehearse as “even more enjoyable” than the writing process.Marc BrennerPerkins, center, with other cast members during a rehearsal of “The Wife of Willesden” in October.Marc BrennerSmith, who sat in on the first few weeks of rehearsals, described watching the actors as “even more enjoyable” than the writing process.“It’s genuinely been lovely seeing the actors,” she said. “I hear voices, but it’s different when people have bodies attached and they add so much.”Writing the play itself, Smith said, was like “really interesting homework.” She remembered having to translate Chaucer into contemporary English during her studies at Cambridge University.“So I’ve done it before, but I’ve never done it in a way that was enjoyable for me or anyone else,” she said, laughing.“The Canterbury Tales,” written by Chaucer in about the late 14th century, is a collection of 24 stories told by a group of pilgrims during their journey to Canterbury Cathedral, 60 miles east of London.One of the pilgrims is called Alyson, or the Wife of Bath. In her tale’s prologue, she reveals that she has been married five times, and she shares her beliefs on femininity and sexuality, critiquing the value that medieval society placed on virginity.“I’ve always liked the Wife of Bath, I read it in college,” Smith said. “Just incredible energy in this character, just so wild. I like writing women like that.”Smith wanted to maintain as many Chaucerian elements as possible in her adaptation, she said, and the contours of the story remain the same, while the play’s dialogue is written in verse couplets.She chose to do this rather than writing a new play because she views literature as a “long channel of writers talking to each other across generations, across countries, across epochs,” she said. She was also guided by her “perverse” love of a challenge.“Restraint is what makes you creative,” Smith said. “You’re forced to go this way and that. That, to me, is real creativity.”But “The Wife of Willesden” also made crucial departures from Chaucer’s text. The pilgrimage, in Smith’s retelling, is a pub crawl, and her “pilgrims” reflect the diversity of contemporary London. Instead of Chaucer’s knight, merchant and monk, Smith has characters you might see walking down Kilburn High Road, including a Nigerian pastor and a Polish bailiff.From left, Perkins, Rubasingham and Smith. “She’s been incredibly collaborative, really,” Rubasingham said of Smith.Adama Jalloh for The New York TimesSmith translated Chaucer’s Middle English into a vernacular she has called “North Weezian,” and her “Wife of Willesden” is Alvita, a Jamaican-born British woman in her mid-50s who adorns herself in fake gold chains, wears fake Jimmy Choo heels and speaks in a mixture of London slang and patois. Her tale takes the form of Jamaican folklore, set in the 18th century. Like her progenitor, Alvita has also been married five times and isn’t afraid to speak her mind.In a back and forth with her religious Auntie P about sex and religion, Alvita tells her: “It’s true Paul said / He didn’t want us having sex for fun — / But it weren’t like: commandment number one. / Auntie, what you call laws I call advice.”Referring to her character, Clare Perkins, who plays Alvita, said, “She’s striving for personal happiness.”“She’s always reinventing herself and she’s always right there, in the middle of her life,” Perkins added.The transformation of Alyson of Bath into Alvita of Northwest London was not, for Smith, a significant leap. In her introduction to the script, which was published by Penguin this month, she wrote “Alyson’s voice — brash, honest, cheeky, salacious, outrageous, unapologetic — is one I’ve heard and loved all my life: in the flats, at school, in the playgrounds of my childhood and then the pubs of my maturity.”Smith doesn’t seem to overthink the prominence of Northwest London in her work. “If you grew up close to the streets, it just means something to you,” Smith said. “It was never an intention when I started, but there’s just something about the neighborhood. It really entertains me.”While the play is in one sense a celebration of the setting, for Rubasingham, it’s also about acknowledging the hardships that the area has endured during the pandemic.Covid-19 hit Brent particularly hard. At one point during the pandemic, the borough had the highest coronavirus death rate in England and Wales, as well as the highest number of furloughed workers.Rubasingham said that the pandemic had exacerbated the existing fault lines in society around class and race. For her, the play is “also about saying we need to put these people, these characters, this world, on the main stage,” she said.The play’s existence is also something of a happy accident. When Brent won its bid to become borough of culture, Smith agreed to contribute a piece of work. She initially envisaged a short monologue that might be performed by a local actress or published in a magazine.But a news release was sent out saying that she was writing a play, so “then I had to write a play,” Smith said. And while it was “amazing fun,” she said she didn’t believe that she would ever write another.“This is the one and only,” she said. More

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    Know How the Beatles Ended? Peter Jackson May Change Your Mind.

    The director’s three-part documentary “Get Back” explores the most contested period in the band’s history and reveals there’s still plenty to debate.It is a cold January morning in 1969, and three of the four Beatles are assembled in a cavernous film studio in London, with cameras rolling and microphones everywhere. “Lennon’s late again,” Paul McCartney says matter of factly, as he plugs in his bass guitar.With Ringo Starr and George Harrison sitting groggily before him, a tray of toast and jam by their side, McCartney starts to strum and sing, searching for inspiration. Within minutes, a mid-tempo groove takes shape and a familiar vocal melody emerges. “Get back,” he sings in a faint howl. “Get back to where you once belonged.” Almost like magic, a Beatles classic begins to form out of nothing.Later that same day, after John Lennon arrives, the four rock deities gather in a circle and bicker. They have loose plans for a concert TV special featuring brand-new songs, but most of the men appear to be dreading it — and may be dreading each other, too. Lennon, who seems to space out for much of the meeting, declares vaguely that “communication” with an audience is his only aim, while an impatient McCartney challenges his bandmates to show some enthusiasm for the project or abandon it.Harrison blurts out what they may all be thinking: “Maybe we should have a divorce?”Those back-to-back scenes in Peter Jackson’s documentary series “The Beatles: Get Back,” a seven-hour-plus project that will be shown in three parts on Disney Plus from Nov. 25 to 27, encapsulate the twin sides of the most contested period in Beatles history — the glory of artistic creation by the world’s most beloved and influential rock band, and the grueling conflicts that led to its breakup, announced a year later.For Beatles fans, or any student of 20th-century pop culture, these are astonishing glimpses into the band’s working life and the tensions that surrounded them.“It’s sort of that one impossible fan dream,” Jackson said in a video interview from Wellington, New Zealand, where he has spent much of the last four years in a darkened editing suite surrounded by Beatles memorabilia. “‘I wish I could go in a time machine and sit in the corner of the stage while they were working,’” he said, describing a lifelong dream like a child praying for the ultimate Christmas present. “‘Just for one day, just watch them, and I’ll be really quiet and sit there.’”“Well, guess what?” he continued. “The time machine’s here now.”Peter Jackson pored over nearly 60 hours of footage for his documentary “Get Back.”Nicola Dove/DisneyJackson’s film is also a volley in one of the longest-running debates in Beatles scholarship. The band’s journey in January 1969 began with intense pressure to put on a high-concept live show and ended with something wonderfully low-concept: an impromptu lunchtime performance on a London rooftop that reminded the world of the band’s majesty, spontaneity and wit. “I hope we passed the audition,” Lennon quips at the show’s end.That period was already the subject of “Let It Be,” a 1970 vérité film by Michael Lindsay-Hogg; its soundtrack was the Beatles’ final studio LP. In time, that film took on a reputation as a joyless document of the band’s collapse, and later testimony from members of the Beatles seemed to buttress that view. Lennon described the sessions as “hell,” and Harrison called them the group’s “winter of discontent.”Yet that narrative has long been challenged by some Beatles aficionados. Lindsay-Hogg’s film, they argue, was selectively edited for maximum dreariness, perhaps to retroactively explain the breakup — “Abbey Road,” the Beatles’ true swan song, was made after “Let It Be” but released first — while evidence from bootlegged tapes suggests a mixture of pleasure and frustration familiar to any musician struggling through Take 24 on a deadline.The mere existence of “Get Back” is a sign that, more than half a century after the Beatles disbanded, their history is still unsettled, and remains endlessly ripe for deep-dive research and partisan counternarratives.Jackson’s film, arriving with the authority of a lightning bolt hurled from a mountaintop in Middle-earth, may become the final word in the argument over this period, though the story it tells is far from simple. Jackson, the Oscar-winning director of the “Lord of the Rings” trilogy — and an avowed Beatles nut — was given access to nearly 60 hours of previously unseen footage by Apple Corps, the Beatles’ company, with no brief, Jackson said, but to restore the film and tell the full story.From left: Ringo Starr, Paul McCartney, George Harrison, John Lennon and Yoko Ono in the studio.Apple CorpsThe Beatles, or at least their corporate surrogates, have embraced Jackson’s retelling, and a preview of the film highlighted moments of brotherly silliness, like the band dancing and clowning in the studio. At a music industry event last year, Jeff Jones, Apple Corps’ chief executive, promised that the new film would “bust the myth” that these sessions were “the final nail in the Beatles’ coffin.” Yet Jackson said the band has had no influence over his work.“Everyone sort of thinks it’s a whitewash” because the Beatles have authorized the film, Jackson said with a laugh. “But actually it’s almost the exact opposite. It shows everything that Michael Lindsay-Hogg could not show in 1970. It’s a very unflinching look at what goes on.”For fans who remember Lindsay-Hogg’s film, or have read dismal anecdotes in any of dozens of Beatles books, Jackson’s scenes of lighthearted antics and creative breakthroughs jump off the screen. We see the Beatles cracking each other up at the mic, mimicking posh accents and performing absurdist slapstick as if in a “Monty Python” skit.“You see these four great friends, great musicians, who just lock in and develop these songs, and you see it all onscreen,” Jackson said.Day after day, new material takes shape. Polishing the lyrics to the song “Get Back,” McCartney and Lennon test out names for a character who departs his Arizona home: Jojo Jackson, Jojo Carter, Jojo Daphne. Shaving off the last name gives McCartney enough syllables for some more specificity in the story: “Jojo left his home in Tucson, Arizona …”Lennon, chewing gum, glances up to ask: “Is Tucson in Arizona?”The original “Let It Be” was shot on 16 millimeter film and blown up to grainy 35 millimeter. Generations of fans, if they’ve seen it at all, have had access to the movie only in crummy bootlegs transferred from videotape. It has never been officially released on DVD or in online formats.I told Jackson that when I finally saw “Let It Be,” 20-odd years ago, my local video rental shop required a $100 cash deposit. Jackson grabbed a vintage VHS copy and said he had long regretted not buying it when visiting the United States in the early 1980s, but the format was unplayable on his machine in New Zealand. While making “Get Back,” he tracked down an original on eBay for $200.“I don’t have a VHS machine,” he said, “so I still can’t play it.”Jackson’s restored images in “Get Back” are strikingly clear, and help flesh out a story of creative anxiety and creature comforts inside Fortress Beatle. Attendants pour glasses of wine as the musicians rehearse; Yoko Ono paints Japanese calligraphy while Lennon and McCartney, a few feet away, yuk their way through “Two of Us” in goofy accents.But the misery is never far away, and as the arguments grind on, it starts to seem miraculous that the Beatles can still come together at all. At one point, Harrison briefly quits the band, apparently fed up with his second-fiddle status. In the studio cafeteria, Lennon tells McCartney that the band’s rift with their lead guitarist has been “a festering wound.”After Harrison walks out, the remaining Beatles jam loudly and angrily. Starr tears through the drums. Ono, dressed all in black, stands at a microphone and wails to a wild climax — perhaps the most violent sound the Beatles ever created.A recurring theme is the band’s discomfort over the role of Ono, who sits by Lennon’s side constantly during the sessions and will come to be vilified by fans for her supposed role in the Beatles’ breakup. A companion book to the film, with further transcripts from the tapes, quotes Lennon telling McCartney: “I would sacrifice you all for her.”Jackson’s restored images in “Get Back” help flesh out a story of creative anxiety and creature comforts inside the Beatles’ cloistered world.Apple CorpsYet it is never clear whether the Beatles’ conflicts are caused by the events of the day or by the accumulated stress of years in the spotlight. Peter Brown, who was a top executive at Apple during this time, said in an interview that the troubles began with the success of “Sgt. Pepper” in 1967.“They were doing things that they’d never done before, and they were very, very worried that it was going to take off,” Brown said. “And of course it took off like crazy. Then how do you follow that?”Some of the drama, of course, may be typical band stuff. Neil Finn, of the New Zealand group Crowded House, said that Jackson showed his band about four hours of footage earlier this year. “We all wept,” he wrote in an email.“So much of it struck a chord with me from my own rehearsals and recording experiences,” Finn added. “Paul asking John if he had any new songs, and John kind of blustering with his answer: Uh, maybe, not really. You can see the others staring in disbelief. I’ve seen that look before.”But the stakes were incredibly high for the Beatles, and the prospect of the band’s dissolution hangs like a cloud over almost the entire film. Early on, McCartney floats an idea for the still-undefined TV special. Their performance, he proposes, would be interspersed with news reports about earthquakes and other “red hot” events around the world. “And at the end,” McCartney says, “the final bulletin is: ‘The Beatles have broken up.’”To some extent, “Get Back” and the original “Let It Be” are exhibits in a study of truth. Does the footage actually show the endgame of the Beatles, or has history gotten it wrong all these years? Does the weight of the evidence point to the band being joyful and creatively fecund, or fed up with each other’s company? The answer may be: all of the above.In one of many moments of levity, Starr hoists a mug behind the drum kit.Apple CorpsIn a note included with a new reissue of the album “Let It Be,” McCartney writes that the original film “was pretty sad as it dealt with the breakup of our band, but the new film shows the camaraderie and love the four of us had between us.”Lindsay-Hogg believes that not only fans, but likely also members of the Beatles themselves, have been misreading “Let It Be” for years.“I think part of the rap that ‘Let It Be’ has had is no one has seen it for a very long time,” he said in an interview. “And it got very confused with the time it came out, which was just after they’d broken up.”Of course, the Beatles did not disband in January 1969. They went on to record “Abbey Road” later that year, with great care; most of the songs on that album, including “Octopus’s Garden,” “Mean Mr. Mustard,” “Carry That Weight” and “Something,” are heard in early stages during “Get Back.”But Jackson’s film makes clear that the end was nigh. If there is a true culprit in the breakup, it was the business conflicts that ensued during 1969, when the group tussled over its management, and Lennon and McCartney tried but failed to take control of the company that held their songwriting rights.Those problems are foreshadowed in “Get Back” with the utterance of a single name: Allen Klein, the American business manager who arrives a few days before the rooftop show to pitch his services for the band. Shortly after the events shown in “Get Back,” Lennon, Harrison and Starr all signed on with Klein; McCartney declined, and the schism was never repaired. Klein died in 2009.“Our movie doesn’t show the breaking up of the Beatles,” Jackson said, “but it shows the one singular moment in history that you could possibly say was the beginning of the end.”If Beatles’ scholarship and fandom has proved anything, it is that even a contradictory summation of the band and its influence can still hold true. The Beatles were a pop boy band that ended up pushing the creative boundaries of rock music further than anyone else; nearly every day of their existence together has been documented exhaustively, though a full accounting of their motivations is impossible.“Get Back” seems to contain all those multitudes — the delight, the tension, the fighting and the wonder of the Beatles simply playing music on the roof.“There’s no goodies in it, there’s no baddies,” Jackson said. “There’s no villains, there’s no heroes. It’s just a human story.”Jackson’s scenes of lighthearted antics and creative breakthroughs jump off the screen. Apple Corps More

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    Stephen Colbert Is Tickled by a Judge’s Takedown of Trump

    “I haven’t seen such a brutal attack on an elected official since Jan. 6,” Colbert said on Wednesday night.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.Motion DeniedA judge ruled this week that Donald J. Trump can’t prevent the release of files related to the Capitol attack, saying of Trump that “presidents are not kings, and plaintiff is not president.”“Damn! I have not seen such a brutal attack on an elected official since Jan. 6,” Stephen Colbert said.“The last time Trump got a spanking like that was with a copy of Forbes magazine by Stormy Daniels.” — JIMMY KIMMEL“That is the worst denial for the former president since any time he tried to hold his wife’s hand.” — STEPHEN COLBERT“Now Trump’s legal team is going to have to figure out what to obstruct next. At this point Trump’s lawyers are, like, the losingest team in history, of any team ever. More than the Clippers. More than the Lions. More than the Washington Generals. And the Globetrotters beat them, like, 5,000 games in a row.” — JIMMY KIMMEL“You think anyone ever took notes in a meeting with Trump? When they finally subpoena those notepads, they’re just going to be filled with random doodles and inscrutable comments like, ‘Ingest bleach maybe?’” — SETH MEYERS“And there’s no way Trump himself ever wrote anything down. He never even wrote any of his own books. They were ghostwritten, which I’m sure Trump took literally. [imitating Trump] ‘I didn’t write it — a ghost did, and I was pretty disappointed when I met the ghost. They said, ‘Donald, we’re getting you a ghostwriter,’ and I was hoping for a Slimer or, even better, a Patrick Swayze.” — SETH MEYERSHigh Price to PayInflation in America has reached a 30-year high. On “The Daily Show,” Trevor Noah looked for a silver lining.“The only good part of inflation — I was always jealous of those old guys who would go, like, ‘Back in my day, you could buy a house with a dollar!’ It looks like now if inflation gets bad enough, we’ll get to be those old guys: ‘Oh, yeah? Back in my day, a million dollars could buy a whole lot more than just a haircut!’” — TREVOR NOAH“I feel like a million bucks, and that’s not nearly enough, because everything is getting so expensive.” — STEPHEN COLBERT“All your favorite stuff is more expensive. Prices have gone up for autos, energy, furniture, rent and medical care. That is terrible! One of my favorite things is being mobile, warm, comfortable, dry and alive.” — STEPHEN COLBERT“This is a big danger to Biden politically, because inflation is the one economic concept that normal people actually care about. Like, the debt ceiling, the Federal Reserve, derivatives — that’s all just [expletive] we pretend to understand: [mocking] ‘The debt ceiling, the debt ceiling.’ But when you hear inflation is rising, you know it means you’re about to be a broke [expletive].” — TREVOR NOAH“OK, how much more bad news is Biden going to get? At the end of the month, we’re going to find out the turkey he pardoned was at the Capitol on Jan. 6.” — SETH MEYERSThe Punchiest Punchlines ($33.80 Edition)“Yesterday, the N.F.L. fined Rodgers and the Packers for violating Covid-19 protocols. Phew. Now that Covid protocols are being enforced, we can get back to safely enjoying the beautiful game of 300-pound men crushing each other’s spines like a sleeve of Ritz crackers.” — STEPHEN COLBERT on the Green Bay Packers and their quarterback Aaron Rodgers“Rodgers attended a Halloween party despite being unvaccinated, for which the N.F.L. fined him $14,650. Which sounds like a lot of money, but it’s the equivalent of fining an average American $33.80 — or one beer at a Packers game.” — STEPHEN COLBERT“Just to put that in perspective, CeeDee Lamb of the Cowboys was fined more than $15,000 for having an untucked jersey. So once again, the league’s priorities are in perfect order.” — JIMMY KIMMELThe Bits Worth WatchingSamantha Bee celebrated the passing of the infrastructure bill on Wednesday’s “Full Frontal.”What We’re Excited About on Thursday NightTaylor Swift will perform on Thursday’s “Tonight Show.”Also, Check This OutDaniel Kaluuya in Jordan Peele’s “Get Out.” Universal Pictures/courtesy of Everett CollectionFrom “Get Out” to the recent “Candyman” sequel, Black horror has become America’s most powerful cinematic genre. More

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    Review: ‘Trevor’ Is a Musical That Dare Not Speak Its Theme

    In this bizarrely cheery adaptation of the Academy Award-winning film, suicide among young gay people proves difficult to sing about.There is no lack of cheese, God knows, in musicals. Worthiness is also plentiful — and sometimes more off-putting.Still, until “Trevor” opened on Wednesday at Stage 42, I’d seldom encountered, outside of after-school specials, the cheesy-but-worthy combo, a seemingly impossible platter that’s almost as righteous in the world as it is wrong in the theater.The righteousness of “Trevor” comes from its pedigree and its mission. Based on a 23-minute film of the same name, which won an Academy Award in 1995, it’s about a 13-year-old boy who can see only one solution — suicide — to the problem of being gay in a homophobic society. Told mostly in the form of voice-over diary entries, the film ably captures the desperate interiority of Trevor’s crisis, and the difficulty of relieving it with hope.Combating such hopelessness became part of the mission of the Trevor Project, founded in 1998 by the movie’s principal creators, including its screenwriter, James Lecesne, now known as Celeste. Through its 24-hour Trevor Lifeline and other services, the nonprofit aims to interrupt the cycle of hatred and self-hatred that can sometimes lead young people struggling with similar problems to dire acts.Though the organization and the musical are not affiliated, they do share the same name and the same source: a young gay character in Lecesne’s one-person show “Word of Mouth.” Less profitably, the musical also inherits the organization’s weighty responsibility in seeking to address despair without modeling it. However foundational it may be as a medical precept, “First, do no harm” is disastrous as a musical one.The result is a bizarrely cheery and thus tonally incomprehensible show in which everything potentially painful is anesthetized by saccharine songs and middle school clichés. When the very bright lights (by Peter Kaczorowski) rise on Donyale Werle’s Lakeview Junior High set, with its colorful linoleum, neat banks of lockers and prominent trophy case, you may feel you are in for an ordinary pubescent comedy along the lines of “Mean Girls.” Nothing suggests that Trevor (Holden William Hagelberger) will have anything worse to face in the course of the action than the general failure of the world to recognize his fabulousness.That fabulousness is a pileup of gay markers: Trevor is obsessed with Broadway, dance and, above all, Diana Ross, who appears in a series of fantasy sequences (and spangly outfits by Mara Blumenfeld) to encourage the boy on his journey of self-acceptance. Exactly what he has to accept is apparently hard to say, as the word “gay” occurs only once in the script, three-quarters of the way through. Even then, it’s oddly disowned and unidiomatic: “Everyone at school is saying that I’m a gay,” Trevor tells us, doubtfully.Setting the show in 1981 may be meant in part to excuse this “love that dare not speak its name” — or even think it — mentality. Even so, cloaking Trevor’s truth in euphemisms like “weird” and “artistic” decouples his self-discovery from the violence of his classmates’ response, and his own. It’s not because he’s “creative” that they turn on him or that he eventually turns on himself.Gotta dance: Hagelberger, right, with cast members in “Trevor.”Sara Krulwich/The New York TimesThis central obfuscation leaves you wondering, for most of the musical, whether something will ever happen worth singing about. There are only so many “I want” numbers and charm songs — two of the templates in the musical theater handbook — a show can support before a crisis had better step forward.Yet despite disengaged, Reagan-obsessed parents at home and goony boys and boy-crazy girls at school, Trevor is presented as basically happy in his life with the imaginary Ross (Yasmeen Sulieman) and his circle of genuine outcasts. Walter (Aryan Simhadri) may show him the wrong kind of porn (women wearing lingerie on a farm), and Cathy (Alyssa Emily Marvin) may misunderstand his intentions (she can’t wait to kiss him despite her braces), but they tolerate his idiosyncrasies. Cathy has “watched every Tony Awards with him since 1976.”Even the school’s dim heartthrob, a jock named Pinky (Sammy Dell), befriends him, encouraging Trevor to choreograph a Tommy Tune-like dance routine for the football team at the annual talent show. (The choreography by Josh Prince charts a careful middle course between unappealingly clumsy and unbelievably slick.) And though the first act ends with the implosion of this spectacle — the team performs a different routine instead — the stakes feel dangerously low until it’s almost too late to revive them.What went so wrong? In the first place, turning this material into a musical may not have been wise. Unlike naturalistic movies or prose fiction, musicals disperse the point of view to anyone who sings. Tonal subtleties delivered through Trevor’s eyes in the film cannot be contained that way onstage, and so a lot of the charming naïveté of the original becomes vague and clammy in Dan Collins’s book.The songs, with lyrics by Collins and music by Julianne Wick Davis, don’t do much better; though professional, they are mostly upbeat and synthetic regardless of the moment, marking time instead of making points. They also face an unfair fight against the Ross catalog, including excerpts from hits like “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough,” “Upside Down,” “It’s My Turn,” “Endless Love” and, inevitably, “I’m Coming Out.”The exceptions to the score’s blandness are telling. A number in which Pinky teaches Trevor to play H-O-R-S-E in gym class — including the double-edged instruction “you don’t want to spell it out” — is characterful, specific and sweet. “One of These Days” has Trevor returning the favor, teaching Pinky to imagine what he might be like in 10 years. Later the song returns, poignantly, after Trevor swallows “way too many aspirin” and winds up in the hospital.It is only in such moments, when the musical acknowledges its givens, that it comes to life. The scene between Trevor and a candy striper, apparently gay himself but old enough to have passed through the tunnel of adolescence, is as frankly and thoughtfully written as you wish everything else were.Is it a surprise, then, that for the first time in the show, the performances, under Marc Bruni’s otherwise hectic and skin-deep direction, strike real notes and admit real feeling? Hagelberger, 13, finally seems 13, not 9, and Aaron Alcaraz, as the candy striper, achieves in two minutes what the rest of the show fails to in more than two hours: musical comedy lightness anchored in honest emotion.Hagelberger and Aaron Alcarez.Sara Krulwich/The New York TimesIt’s not that the message of that hospital scene is so novel; it’s basically an It Gets Better ad, deftly dramatized. In less deft moments the musical feels as if it were written for, or even by, suicide prevention experts worried about copycatting.I understand the concern, but then why write a musical? You can’t keep saying that a show is not about what it’s obviously about. And yet, as I imagine “Trevor” being performed for young audiences, perhaps in middle schools that even today are scenes of vicious homophobia, I have to think the ends justify the means. In the level of heaven reserved for works of the imagination that have saved real lives, “Trevor,” in 10 years, may be holding court on a special and I hope very fabulous cloud.TrevorAt Stage 42, Manhattan; 212-239-6200, trevorthemusical.com. Running time: 2 hours 15 minutes. More