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    How Stephen Sondheim’s Work Did (and Didn’t) Translate to the Screen

    A new series of adaptations, documentaries and more examines the different ways the composer-lyricist left his mark on movies.Stephen Sondheim, the unparalleled composer-lyricist who died in November, may have changed musical theater forever, but as a new program at the Museum of the Moving Image argues, he left his mark on film as well. Whether it’s Elaine Stritch’s screen-shattering performance of “The Ladies Who Lunch” in D.A. Pennebaker’s documentary “Original Cast Album: ‘Company’” or Madonna’s slinking around and cooing “Sooner or Later” in “Dick Tracy,” Sondheim’s work has given film audiences memorable moments.The museum program, See It Big: Sondheim, assembled by the guest programmer Michael Koresky, the film curator Eric Hynes and the assistant curator, Edo Choi, offers a survey of adaptations of Sondheim’s work and other examples of his contributions to film, including a murder-mystery screenplay and the score to a French new wave film. I spoke with Koresky about Sondheim’s gifts to cinema and why it’s so hard to adapt his work. Here are edited excerpts from our conversation.Sondheim let people adapt his work freely, which your program shows.He said in many interviews that he is OK with someone massaging and changing and doing things for their own sake, and I think that just shows his generosity and his experimentation ability to allow others to be experimental. You can see that all the way through to 2021. With the Spielberg version of “West Side Story,” you could tell that he was sort of delighted to find that it had this new life.I think it’s up to us, as Sondheim lovers, to [say] when something isn’t working. But because of that, it takes something really different and experimental and strange to be a truly successful adaptation, which is why I think that “Original Cast Album: ‘Company’” is probably the best “adaptation” of a Sondheim musical.What about that film is able to articulate the skill and artistry of Sondheim in ways that some other attempts do not?Remembering Stephen SondheimThe revered and influential composer-lyricist died Nov. 26, 2021. He was 91. Obituary: A titan of the American musical, Sondheim was the driving force behind some of Broadway’s most beloved shows. Final Interview: Days before he died, he sat down with The Times for his final major interview. His Legacy: As a mentor, a letter writer and an audience regular, Sondheim nurtured generations of theater makers. ‘West Side Story’: Does the musical, which features some of the artist’s best-known lyrics, deserve a new hearing? ‘Company’: The revival of his 1970 musical features a gender swap.I think with Sondheim, witnessing the artistic process is part of the whole experience, creation is baked into the actual production. When you’re really attuned to the lyrics and the melodies, you’re thinking about how this possibly could have come about. So you’re constantly aware of the richness of the text and the complexity. For a documentary to just be about that literally: You’re seeing people do things over and over again, you’re getting a glimpse into an aspect of musical production that you probably never would have the chance to see. Pulling the strings and looking becomes part of the text. His musicals are so much about their own construction, so I can’t think of a better film based on Sondheim.Was there a particular piece that you wanted to start this series as a kind of guiding ethos for what you wanted the program to say about his legacy?For me, it was the 1966 television program “Evening Primrose,” which didn’t end up in the program, only because it was impossible to find. I grew to love “Take Me to the World,” which is a song I discovered in a piano book. That show typifies everything that I love about Sondheim: the melodies, the strange subject matter, the weird sources of adaptation, the really idiosyncratic, disturbing, bizarre and beautiful. I wanted that to be the discovery for people.We started with the 2021 “West Side Story” because we want to give people the chance to see it on the big screen, since so many people missed seeing it last December.What is it that makes it so difficult to adapt Sondheim to the screen? There aren’t, with very few exceptions, great screen interpretations of his work that aren’t filmed theater productions.He gives you something that you think you understand. Even with “Into the Woods” (the 2014 film), it’s like, “Oh, it’s a deconstruction of fairy tales.” But that’s really not enough to go on. There’s something really profound going on there about sadness and loneliness that is probably really hard to square with the genre trappings. They’re tricky because he’s always doing two things at once. And when you make a film, filmmakers often focus on the spectacle, not realizing that the spectacle has to be elided. That’s really hard to do in film.I was thinking today about which Sondheim works I wish there were movies of. I never want “Sunday in the Park With George” to be a movie, just by virtue of what it is, how it’s produced, what it’s about. What it’s doing feels so New York stage, it would be so strange.Could you talk about Sondheim and Madonna’s cinematic work in “Dick Tracy”?For me, as a little gay boy with his Madonna “I’m Breathless” cassette tape in 1990, it was the essential thing. Period. “Dick Tracy,” the gruff lantern-jawed masculine comic book detective, just does not interest me. But I remember those songs. It’s one of those things that’s a queering agent. “Dick Tracy” really feels like a hybrid of a lot of different sensibilities. I like the way that Sondheim and Madonna’s contributions help to negate the uber-masculinity of the text.And we have to talk about “The Last of Sheila” (1973), which he co-wrote with Anthony Perkins.That’s a tricky one. It’s interesting that they chose an intricate, whodunit murder mystery plot, because how else would you intelligently funnel this Sondheim complexity and idea of overlapping narratives, characters, themes into a genre film? I think that’s what makes it delightful. With Sondheim you see the gears working without it taking you out of the film. It’s a movie about game playing, in which you’re constantly being asked to size up the people involved. It’s very mechanical in a fun way.And in a nasty way that I love, too.One of the game cards in the film reads, “You are a homosexual.” And the way they talk about it is surprisingly casual and sort of progressive. There’s the idea that this is an accusation. But when it’s revealed, there’s a real casualness about it. It’s surprising for “closeted” — at the time — gay men to write.See It Big: Sondheim runs through May 1 at the Museum of the Moving Image in Astoria, Queens. For more information, go to movingimage.us. More

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    Late Night Gets Why Putin’s Advisers Keep Him in the Dark

    “Of course they’re afraid to be honest,” Stephen Colbert said. “No matter what you say to a psychotic boss, you lose.”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.Putin’s LossRussian troops are reportedly afraid to let Vladimir Putin know just how poorly the war in Ukraine is going.“Of course they’re afraid to be honest. No matter what you say to a psychotic boss, you lose,” Stephen Colbert said.“There are a lot of reasons it’s going so terribly. The Russian troops, they have no clear purpose, the troops are running out of food, and it turns out they have really bad technology. For instance, while most modern military radios are impossible to intercept, many Russians forces are communicating on unencrypted high frequency channels that allow anyone with a ham radio to eavesdrop. To which Russian soldiers said, ‘A radio made of ham? Can I have one? I’m so hungry!’” — STEPHEN COLBERT“Now, Russia’s walkie-talkies are being bombarded with heavy metal music from Ukrainian operators. OK, that’s not bad, heavy metal, but if Ukraine really wants to mess with Russian soldiers, they should flood their walkie-talkies with an unbearably long podcast.” — STEPHEN COLBERT“But Vladimir Putin may not be aware of how bad his invasion is going because new intelligence suggests his advisers misinformed him on Ukraine. Well, Putin’s clearly a victim of his own pro-Russia propaganda. He doesn’t even know that Russia lost ‘Rocky IV.’” — STEPHEN COLBERT“Intelligence officials reportedly believe that Russian president Vladimir Putin has only recently learned how poorly the invasion of Ukraine has been going and is angry with his military advisers. And you can tell he’s upset, because now the table is even longer.” — SETH MEYERSThe Punchiest Punchlines (Walking It Back Edition)“And Republican congressman Madison Cawthorn is now taking back the comments he made about fellow lawmakers inviting him to orgies and doing cocaine in his presence. In a meeting with House Minority Leader Kevin McCarthy, Cawthorn admitted his comments were ‘exaggerated.’ He talked a big game about cocaine and orgies, but in reality, it was just Claritin, and an over-the-pants handy.” — JAMES CORDEN“First he said on a podcast that they did cocaine in front of him; now he says he thinks he may have seen a staffer in a parking garage from 100 yards away. How deluded are you to be in a parking garage, seeing someone lean over to pick up their keys and thinking, ‘Uh oh, looks like another cocaine orgy’?”— JAMES CORDEN“That was obviously a very bizarre and shocking allegation, and it pissed off Cawthorn’s G.O.P. colleagues because he seemed to be accusing his fellow Republicans of being the sex-crazed drug addicts. And by the way, let me just state for the record, I don’t care — have your orgies. You’re consenting adults. If you want to roll out a tarp in a Holiday Inn conference room and go to town on each other, be my guest.” — SETH MEYERS“Dude, when you’re trying to tamp down orgy rumors, don’t say ‘members,’ just say people — we know who you mean.” — SETH MEYERS“He sounds like me in high school trying to convince my mom and dad that everyone at the party was drinking except me: ‘No, I just had — I just had a Sprite because I didn’t like the taste of liquor.’” — JAMES CORDENThe Bits Worth WatchingSamuel L. Jackson talked about some of his iconic roles on Thursday night’s “Desus & Mero.”Also, Check This Out Elizabeth Alexander’s book of essays is accompanied by artwork, including Dawoud Bey’s “Martina and Rhonda, Chicago, Ill.,” 1993).Dawoud Bey. Courtesy: Sean Kelly, New York.Elizabeth Alexander’s new book, “The Trayvon Generation,” traces the influences of racism and violence on American culture today. More

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    Review: In ‘I Agree to the Terms,’ It’s Raining Pennies From Amazon

    The Builders Association explores the world of turkers, workers performing thousands of weird, low-paying tasks for an online giant.A place where “information is free” and “money isn’t everything”: That’s how Stewart Brand, the longtime editor of the Whole Earth Catalog, foresaw the future of the internet in 1985.That same year, the management guru Art Kleiner said that his “key impression” of the developing medium was “one of civilization.”And in 1996, John Perry Barlow, in his “Declaration of the Independence of Cyberspace,” wrote that the online world was a place “where anyone, anywhere may express his or her beliefs, no matter how singular, without fear of being coerced into silence or conformity.”So how’s that going?Cheap are the ironies of hindsight. Yet not as cheap as what happened to a new class of low-wage workers brought about by the internet age — in particular, a group of freelancers on Amazon’s Mechanical Turk platform known as turkers. They are the subject of “I Agree to the Terms,” an online presentation from NYU Skirball that is less a play than an affable, informative lecture-demonstration on last-ditch labor — and an implicit criticism of it.Because this is the brainchild of the Builders Association — written by James Gibbs, one of its “core collaborators,” and directed by Marianne Weems, its founder — the genre bleed is not unexpected. Previous Builders works, including “Alladeen” (a multimedia piece about Bangalore call centers) and “Elements of Oz” (a riff on the MGM movie musical involving smartphone filters you point at the stage), have often mined delight from novel combinations of technology and storytelling.Even so, when I saw “I Agree to the Terms,” on Saturday, the novelty was causing problems. The 45-minute piece was delayed for 35 minutes by what were described vaguely as “back-end problems.”Once the difficulties were resolved, “I Agree to the Terms” went smoothly if not quite compellingly. In the first part, set during the internet’s early days, recitations from those optimistic manifestoes are interspersed with brief recreations of bulletin board testimony about sexism and addiction. The third part, a glimpse at an online future that includes metaverse avatars, virtual reality and a cyberspace bazaar selling human hearts for NFTs, seems merely glib.Only in between do we learn anything new, as our guides, Moe Angelos and David Pence, introduce the so-called MTurk world. Several hundred thousand workers, we learn, operate on that platform, performing menial online tasks for pennies, sometimes as a side hustle and sometimes as their sole source of income.Semi-scripted interviews with four actual turkers personalize the information. Adah from Florida walks us through the MTurk dashboard, which lists HITs (human intelligence tasks) and how much they pay. Michelle, an actor living in the Bronx, performs HITs on the subway, monetizing time that would otherwise be wasted. Noel, who is quadriplegic, can now work from home in New Mexico — as can Sibyl, from Alabama, who tells us she became a turker when her husband’s death left her with $35 and no source of income.“It was this or murdering chickens at the chicken plant,” Sibyl says, adding that the transportation costs for that minimum-wage work would have wiped out her earnings. At least by turking she can make, on a good day, $100, without leaving what appears to be her basement.It is perhaps for that reason she will not brook any criticism of Amazon. “I know you aren’t all sitting there and judging my pimp,” she says, warningly.That’s it for real-life drama, but there is at least some virtual excitement to come. A QR code leads you to an MTurk dashboard created especially for this production. You have 12 minutes to process as many tasks as possible, accumulating “Builders Coin” and approval ratings as you go. Some of the tasks I faced resembled Captcha challenges; others were short surveys, and a few were simply inscrutable. One, I felt sure, was an SAT reject: an analogous relations question with no satisfactory answer.In any case, I completed 14 tasks, earning $7.17, a 93 percent approval rating and a headache.If the Builders were hoping to expose another Amazonian hellhole of capitalism, I’m not sure they succeeded; the experience, being pleasant enough, was at odds with the message. While turking, I felt no more exploited than while solving the daily Wordle.A more telling exercise might have been drawn from the original Mechanical Turk, an 18th-century scam for which the enterprise is named. That was a chess-playing “machine” operated secretly by a person pretzled into its cabinetry. Talk about back-end problems!I Agree to the TermsThrough April 3; nyuskirball.org. Running time: 45 minutes. More

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    A Playwright Makes the Scene in New York’s Living Rooms

    In the fall of 2020, a young playwright named Matthew Gasda decided to entertain some friends by staging a one-act drama on a grassy hilltop of Fort Greene Park in Brooklyn. The masked audience quickly realized that what they were watching was conspicuously relatable: Performed on a picnic blanket by seven actors, “Circles” presented a group of pandemic-weary friends who gather over wine one night in a city park to catch up on their lives.After the applause, Mr. Gasda, 33, passed around a hat for donations. Then he began plotting his next play.A few months later he unveiled “Winter Journey,” a drama loosely based on Shakespeare’s “The Winter’s Tale,” in a chilly backyard in Bushwick. Then came “Quartet,” a comedy about two couples who swap partners, which he put on in a TriBeCa apartment. He staged his next play, “Ardor,” about friends who gather for a weekend in the country, in a loft in Greenpoint. He was a long way from Broadway, or even Off Broadway, but he was grateful for the attention.“I’d long been staging plays in New York in anonymity,” he said, “but during the pandemic I became like the rat that survived the nukes. Suddenly, there was no competition.”In the spring of 2021, he fell into a downtown social scene that was forming on the eastern edge of Chinatown, by the juncture of Canal and Division Streets. What he witnessed inspired his next work, “Dimes Square.”“Dimes Square became the anti-Covid hot spot, and so I went there because that’s where things were happening,” Mr. Gasda said.Named after Dimes, a restaurant on Canal Street, the micro scene was filled with skaters, artists, models, writers and telegenic 20-somethings who didn’t appear to have jobs at all. A hyperlocal print newspaper called The Drunken Canal gave voice to what was going on.Mr. Gasda, who had grown up in Bethlehem, Pa., with the dream of making it in New York, threw himself into the moment, assuming his role as the scene’s turtlenecked playwright. And as he worked as a tutor to support himself by day, and immersed himself in Dimes Square at night, he began envisioning a play.From left, Bob Laine, Bijan Stephen, Ms. Grady, Mr. Lorentzen and Eunji Lim rehearse a scene from “Dimes Square,” a new play about a downtown scene.Mark Sommerfeld for The New York TimesThe reflected face of the critic Christian Lorentzen during a rehearsal of Matthew Gasda’s “Dimes Square.”Mark Sommerfeld for The New York TimesThe actor Cassidy Grady, under a flag blanket at the same rehearsal.Mark Sommerfeld for The New York TimesSet in a Chinatown loft, “Dimes Square” chronicles the petty backstabbing among a group of egotistic artists and media industry types. It’s filled with references to local haunts like the bar Clandestino and the Metrograph theater, and its characters include an arrogant writer who drinks Fernet — Mr. Gasda’s spirit of choice — and a washed up novelist who snorts cocaine with people half his age.Adding a touch of realism, Mr. Gasda cast friends in key roles: Bijan Stephen, a journalist and podcast host, portrays a frustrated magazine editor; Christian Lorentzen, a literary critic, plays a haggard Gen X novelist; and Fernanda Amis, whose father is the author Martin Amis, plays the daughter of a famous writer.Since the play opened in February at a loft in Greenpoint, “Dimes Square” has become an underground hit that consistently sells out performances. The people who see the show include insiders eager to see their scene committed to the stage, as well as those who have kept track of it at a distance via Instagram. The writers Gary Indiana, Joshua Cohen, Sloane Crosley and Mr. Amis have all attended.The play, which is scheduled to start a Manhattan run at an apartment in SoHo on Friday, also won Mr. Gasda his first big write-up, a review by Helen Shaw in New York Magazine’s Vulture, that compared him to Chekhov and declared: “Gasda has appointed himself dramatist of the Dimes Square scene.”After the appraisal ran online, Mr. Gasda received a text from a friend on his battered flip phone congratulating him on the fact that he had been “dubbed our chekhov.” But even as Mr. Gasda is getting his shot at success in literary New York, something about the noise surrounding his play has been troubling him.The playwright in his Brooklyn apartment.Mark Sommerfeld for The New York Times“I’m thankful for the attention, but the people coming to see the show seem to think the play is complicit with the scene, and that’s getting totally warped by them,” he said. “The play is pessimistic about the scene.”Moments before actors took the stage at a recent performance, audience members sipped cheap red wine and made small talk about the Twitter chatter surrounding the show. As the lights dimmed, Mr. Gasda, wearing a tweed jacket with elbow patches and his usual scarf, reminded his guests to pay for their drinks on Venmo.After the performance, as the loft cleared out, one audience member, Joseph Hogan, a 29-year-old filmmaker, offered a critique: “The likability of these characters is irrelevant to me,” he said. “What’s important to me is if their insecurities are relatable. And as a person who moved to this city from somewhere else and is trying to make it here in New York like they are, I feel I can identify with them.”“If they’re not considered likable,” he continued, “then neither am I. And that’s fine with me.”The play’s cast made its way to its usual bar, Oak & Iron. There, Mr. Gasda nursed a Fernet as Mr. Lorentzen passed along an evaluation of the show.“A journalist came up to me and told me she thought you’d be just another Cassavetes rehash,” Mr. Lorentzen said, referring to John Cassavetes, the noted indie filmmaker of the 1970s and 1980s. “But afterward she told me, ‘No, he gets it. He’s doing his own thing.’”“I’ve gotten Cassavetes references before,” Mr. Gasda said. “But it’s not my job to be interested in what people think. My job is to keep secreting and writing.”He took a sip.“It’s great we’re getting attention,” he said, “but it’s not like I’m making money out of this. I still have my day job.”“It reminds me of this story I heard about a guy seeing ‘Einstein on the Beach,’” he continued, referring to Philip Glass’s 1976 opera. “Then the guy needed to get his toilet fixed, so he called a plumber. The plumber shows up, and the guy asks him, ‘Aren’t you Philip Glass?’ Glass tells him, ‘Yeah, but I’m not making money on the show yet.’”Mr. Gasda watches from below as George Olesky and Cassidy Grady act out a scene from his play “Minotaur.”Mark Sommerfeld for The New York TimesMr. Gasda’s quest to become a New York playwright began during his teenage years in Bethlehem, where his father was a high school history teacher and his mother was a paralegal. He grew up watching Eagles games on TV with his dad and hearing stories about a grandfather’s days as a steelworker. He became bookish, compulsively reading “Ulysses” and devouring the works of the poet John Ashbery and the novelist William Gaddis.After graduating with a bachelor’s degree in philosophy from Syracuse University, Mr. Gasda hopped a bus to Port Authority. He spent his first day walking aimlessly until he stumbled on Caffe Reggio, a Greenwich Village institution that was once a gathering spot for bohemians and Beat Generation poets. And there, even among the New York University students doing their homework, he felt at home. He soon moved into an apartment in Bushwick and started his reinvention.He wrote on a Smith Corona electric typewriter. He rocked the scarf and turtleneck to literary parties. He hung out in the stacks of the Strand and made Caffe Reggio his office, writing parts of over a dozen plays there. To make the rent, he taught English at a charter school in Red Hook and worked as a debate coach at Spence, the Upper East Side private school. He is now a college prep tutor and lives in a book-cluttered apartment in the East Flatbush neighborhood of Brooklyn.But even after a decade in the city, he could get few people aside from friends and family members to see his work — until his luck changed during the pandemic, when young New Yorkers, weary of Netflix, seemed up for some live theater.Now, in addition to the second run of “Dimes Square,” another one of Mr. Gasda’s plays, “Minotaur,” is scheduled to open soon at a small venue in Dumbo. An early and intimate staging of the production included the actress Dasha Nekrasova, who has a recurring role on “Succession” and co-hosts the provocative politics and culture podcast “Red Scare.”Mr. Gasda at home.Mark Sommerfeld for The New York TimesAfter a recent “Minotaur” rehearsal in Midtown, Ms. Nekrasova and another cast member, Cassidy Grady, huddled for a smoke on the street while Mr. Gasda chatted with them. They discussed the debut novel of the moment, Sean Thor Conroe’s “Fuccboi,” as well as the new play that was rounding into shape.“‘Minotaur’ is a kind of Ibsenian drama,” Ms. Nekrasova said. “I’m enthusiastic about Gasda because he represents a burgeoning interest in theater, post-Covid, in the city.”Mr. Gasda slipped into a nearby sports bar. He ordered a glass of Fernet, and as he considered the impending run of “Dimes Square,” he suggested that audiences think about his play differently.“Ultimately, ‘Dimes Square’ is a comedy,” he said. “I’m not trying to send people to the therapist. And I’m not saying I’m better than the people in my play.”“The other side of the play is about striving in New York,” he added. “So it’s about something that’s universal, too.” More

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    A Director Returns (Uncomfortably) to His Working-Class Roots

    Christophe Honoré’s latest work, for the Paris stage, is part of a recent wave of stories in France about the complex aftereffects of social mobility.PARIS — The French director Christophe Honoré, best known for films including “Love Songs” and “Sorry Angel,” has been making exceptional work in recent years — and international audiences have been missing out on it. The reason? It’s happening on theater stages in his home country.From “The Idols,” a play dedicated to a series of French artists who died at the height of the AIDS crisis, to “The Guermantes Way,” his Proust adaptation for the Comédie-Française, Honoré’s storytelling onstage has a kind of tragicomic immediacy that is instantly recognizable. His latest production, “The Sky of Nantes” (“Le Ciel de Nantes”), applies this sensibility to Honoré’s own family. The resulting journey, back to his working-class roots in the Brittany region of northern France, is fraught, yet poignantly astute.The starting point of the play, running through April 3 at the Odéon – Théâtre de l’Europe in Paris, is an aborted film. Honoré had long wanted to tell the story of his grandmother Odette and her 10 children — eight of them fathered by an abusive Spaniard, Puig. Honoré went so far as to cast actors and do screen tests; at one point, some videos of these tests are projected on a scrim in “The Sky of Nantes.” Yet the project never came to fruition. Instead, it became a play about the sticky nature of autobiography.Honoré has a stand-in in “The Sky of Nantes”: a young actor, Youssouf Abi-Ayad, who introduces himself as the director in the first line. The play is set in a timeworn movie theater, faithfully recreated on the Odéon stage, its red seats facing the audience. Around Abi-Ayad, six of Honoré’s relatives — Odette and Puig; his mother, Marie-Dominique; and three of her many siblings — have gathered to hear him talk about their family history and the film he is (supposedly) making about it.Honoré’s staging style is playful enough that this meta self-reflection doesn’t weigh the show down. He makes no attempt to recreate things as they might have happened: Instead, “The Sky of Nantes,” like “The Idols,” brings its characters back from the dead and invents new, casual conversations between them. (They are fully aware of their demise but seem unfazed by it.) Regularly, the actors use microphones on stands to deliver pensive monologues, or a song, to the audience, only for others to interject and draw them into spontaneous-seeming banter.And Abi-Ayad, as Honoré, gets interrupted more than anyone else. Fascinatingly, the play makes space for the other characters to disagree with the polished, screen-ready version of their lives he attempts to recount at the beginning. His boorish uncle Roger objects to a poetic description of him contemplating ladybugs on his father’s tombstone, saying indignantly: “I’m not gay!” Soon after, Odette — whose age is superbly conveyed by the much younger Marlène Saldana — offers her take on her marriage to Puig. When Abi-Ayad corrects a word she uses, she berates him for suggesting she doesn’t speak “well enough.”From left, Stéphane Roger, Marlène Saldana, Chiara Mastroianni, Jean-Charles Clichet, Harrison Arévalo and Julien Honoré in “The Sky of Nantes.”Jean-Louis FernandezThe effect is one of dynamic contrast: As in his other plays, it allows Honoré to reconcile impulses — his penchant for literary self-indulgence on the one hand; his love of fantasy and surprise on the other — that film critics have occasionally found contradictory. But the back-and-forth between the director and his unruly characters serves another purpose in “The Sky of Nantes”: It highlights how difficult it can be to narrate the stories of a world one has left behind.Trauma runs deep throughout the play, from violence against women to suicide, and memories of France’s war in Algeria. The life of Honoré’s aunt Claudie is especially tragic and sensitively portrayed by Chiara Mastroianni (a longtime collaborator of Honoré’s, making her stage debut here). Honoré doesn’t shy away from the casual racism and homophobia of some characters, yet he also shows what gave them joy, too, like their fierce, relatable attachment to Nantes’ soccer team.“The Sky of Nantes” adds to a recent wave of stories in France about the complex aftereffects of social mobility, led by writers like Édouard Louis and Didier Eribon. In the role of Honoré — the gay, upwardly mobile grandson who moved to Paris — Abi-Ayad cuts a pained, melancholy figure. He is often seen smoking on the sidelines while the family quarrels, at once detached yet intermittently drawn back to the fold. “I’m mad at myself for changing,” he tells the others when he admits that he couldn’t complete his film. His focus on bourgeois characters throughout his screen career is no coincidence, Honoré says through Abi-Ayad: “I can only betray you.” Without anger, his uncle Jacques replies: “You’re ashamed of us. We’re not chic enough to put into your films.”Honoré allows his mother, Marie-Dominique, the only member of the family who is still alive, to have the last word. Her role is gender-swapped in “The Sky of Nantes,” and affectionately played by Honoré’s own brother, Julien Honoré.At the very end, however, the real Marie-Dominique appears in a short video clip, and reveals her discomfort with the retelling of family stories. “They’re a pain,” she says of her two sons, with a laugh. Here, and elsewhere, “The Sky of Nantes” captures the thorny reality of autobiography — and its heartbreak, too.Bboy Junior, left, and Djamil Mohamed in Julie Berès’s “Tenderness.”Axelle de RusséSo does another new Paris production, Julie Berès’s “Tenderness,” at the Théâtre Gérard Philipe, in the suburb of Saint-Denis. With a cast of eight young people, Berès explores masculinity in the #MeToo era, through a mix of real stories and fiction. Onstage, the diverse cast members appear to be drawing from their lives, yet “Tenderness” (“La Tendresse”) was based mostly on research: Together with her co-writers, Kevin Keiss and Lisa Guez, with additional help from Alice Zeniter, Berès surveyed around 50 young men about their relationship to masculine norms.The result illuminates the reality of men’s experiences without requiring the actors to share their own intimate stories, as other theater projects sometimes do. With the help of the choreographer Jessica Noita, Berès also matches movement to the text, and many in the cast are accomplished dancers. Bboy Junior (Junior Bosila Banya), an astonishing slow-motion break dancer, holds impossible-looking handstands as he speaks, while the ballet-trained Natan Bouzy recounts a youthful addiction to online pornography while on pointe.There are scenery-chewing group dances, too, which unleash extraordinary energy, but like “The Sky of Nantes,” “Tenderness” is strongest when it acknowledges the contradictions and complexity of its characters. Both productions speak to larger realities of French society, and just like Honoré’s best films, they deserve to be seen widely.Le Ciel de Nantes. Directed by Christophe Honoré. Odéon – Théâtre de l’Europe, through April 3.La Tendresse. Directed by Julie Berès. Théâtre Gérard Philipe, through April 1. More

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    in Television

    Stephen Colbert Condemns Trump’s Digging for Dirt During a War

    “It’s generally frowned upon for U.S. presidents, current or former, to solicit our murderous mortal enemies for dirt on their political rivals,” Colbert said.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.Poor Sense of TimingIn a new interview with a right-wing news outlet this week, former President Donald Trump called on Vladimir Putin to release damaging information on the Bidens.Late-night hosts questioned his timing.“Damn, he’s asking for Russian help through the TV again? Does this man have no shame?” Stephen Colbert said. “And I withdraw the question.”“It’s generally frowned upon for U.S. presidents, current or former, to solicit our murderous, mortal enemies for dirt on their political rivals.” — STEPHEN COLBERT“Well, now he’s asking Vladmir Putin to release dirt on the Bidens in the middle of a war. He wants our enemy to dig up damaging information about our president while he is attacking Ukraine — and he doesn’t see anything wrong with this. The whole free world is trying to stop Putin, Trump’s like, ‘Hey, got anything on the president’s crackhead son I can use? I’d really appreciate it.’” — JIMMY KIMMEL“As usual, his timing is impeccable. He reminded the world that Putin is his buddy at the exact moment that everyone realizes that his buddy is actual Hitler. This is worse than last year, when Jell-O re-signed Bill Cosby to announce their new flavor, ‘Out on a Technicality Orange.’” — STEPHEN COLBERTThe Punchiest Punchlines (G.O.P. After Dark Edition)“Speaking of right-wing weirdos, there’s some splashback to the story from North Carolina congressman and haunted jack-in-the-box, Madison Cawthorn. Recently, Cawthorn made some extraordinary claims that his Republican colleagues in Congress are orgy-frequenting degenerates with a fondness for hard drugs. Given the average age of the G.O.P., I assume they’re snorting Boniva.” — STEPHEN COLBERT“Come on, man, do you really expect us to believe that Congress could plan and execute an orgy? At best, I can see them announcing an exploratory committee that would begin to investigate the feasibility of an orgy at a later date.”— SETH MEYERS“House G.O.P. leader Kevin McCarthy called Cawthorn into his office today, maybe hoping to score an invite or to tell him to stop narcing.” — SETH MEYERS“Rep. Dan Crenshaw of Texas said, ‘It does paint the picture here that isn’t accurate.’ Thank god, because that picture is too awful to be real. I’ve interviewed 80 members of Congress, and I’d have sex with two and a half of them. Not at the same time, of course — I’m not in the G.O.P.” — STEPHEN COLBERT“This whole group of pro-Trump toadies is just so weird and loathsome, like Texas Senator Ted Cruz, for example, who, I’m gonna go out on a limb here, wasn’t invited to the orgy.” — SETH MEYERS“Oh, please don’t name names, because all those names go with faces we know.” — SETH MEYERS“Also, I got to say, if they were having orgies and doing cocaine, I would actually find that impressive. I mean, they’re all 70 and 80 years old. If you told me Chuck Grassley was snorting blow and boning nonstop, I’d be like, ‘Damn, maybe he’s more with it than I thought.’” — SETH MEYERSThe Bits Worth WatchingA 72-year-old grandmother from the Bronx twerked for Jimmy Fallon on Wednesday’s “Tonight Show.”What We’re Excited About on Thursday NightThe creator and star of “Starstruck,” Rose Matafeo, will sit down with Seth Meyers on Thursday’s “Late Night.”Also, Check This OutThe author Casey McQuiston.Tonje Thilesen for The New York TimesAfter years of being relegated to back shelves, sales of L.G.B.T.Q. romance novels from authors like Casey McQuiston are booming. More

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    ‘Told It Like It Was’: Ntozake Shange’s Tales of Black Womanhood

    As ‘For Colored Girls’ returns to the New York stage, we look at how the show found its way from a Bay Area bar to Broadway in 1976.Ntozake Shange’s “For Colored Girls Who Have Considered Suicide/When the Rainbow Is Enuf” defied Broadway conventions when it opened at the Booth Theater on Sept. 15, 1976. An experimental “choreopoem” focusing on the lives of seven women of color, who are each named after colors of the rainbow, was revelatory and not something you might expect to find on a mainstream Broadway stage.“At the time, Black actresses were still coming out of the stereotype framework of people looking at us and judging us,” Trezana Beverley, who won a Tony for her portrayal of Lady in Red, said during a recent Zoom interview. “Zake broke all those rules and we broke them with her. We were indeed the colors of the rainbow — that was what was so exciting about it.”Monologues detailing loss, betrayal, violence and love are told poetically and combined with movement and music. Through a gentle touch, a soft embrace or an impromptu dance, the women comfort one another as a supportive collective.“Ntozake had an extraordinary way of blending prose with poetry — the rhythms of her words and, of course, the incredible imagination, that she had in her storytelling,” Beverley said.The show ran on Broadway for nearly two years, closing in July 1978 after a total of 742 performances (“Godspell,” which had opened in June 1976, only made it to 527). It became an instant classic and continues to inspire new generations of playwrights, including Aleshea Harris and Dominique Morisseau.To fully appreciate Shange’s work, and what it means to have it return to Broadway this spring (in a production directed by the dancer and choreographer Camille A. Brown), it helps to explore the historical and cultural contexts that led to its original Broadway production in 1976.From Poems to a PlayShange began developing “For Colored Girls” in 1974 while living in the Bay Area, and performed it with the dancer Paula Moss at a bar called the Bacchanal.“Whenever she read her poems, like at the Nuyorican Cafe years ago, she always had musical accompaniment,” Beverley recalled. “She always had a saxophonist, a flutist or a cellist, and she moved with her poems. She has a line in her poem, she says ‘music was like smack to me,’ and you knew it.”She had found inspiration in the Black Women Writers’ Renaissance, which began to unfold around the time she graduated from Barnard College. In works like Toni Morrison’s “The Bluest Eye” and Alice Walker’s “The Third Life of Grange Copeland,” both published in 1970, the writers explored the specific ways Black women contend with racial and gendered violence.And Shange had her own inner struggles. Her college journals reveal that she “tried to commit suicide,” said Kim F. Hall, the Lucyle Hook professor of English and a professor of Africana Studies at Barnard. “Go back to some of the early interviews. She talks about it very forthrightly,” she said, adding that the title of the play is not “an abstraction.”All of this fed her poetry, and after spending several years on the West Coast for graduate school, she returned to New York and began to turn her poems into a play. And that’s when Ifa Bayeza, Shange’s sister, introduced her to the director Oz Scott.“I directed right from the beginning,” Scott, 72, said. “We did it at DeMonte’s, the bar on the Lower East Side where we started it, and then we went to Henry Street [home of the New Federal Theater], then we went to the Public, and then we went to Broadway.”Opening at the New Federal TheaterBefore the show could move to Midtown from downtown, producers had to invest in an experimental new work. It’s not like there were many plays by Black women, with an all-Black female ensemble, having sustained runs on Broadway.Ntozake Shange in 1977 in a production of “Where the Mississippi Meets the Amazon,” a play that she wrote with Jessica Hagedorn and Thulani Nkabinde.Marilynn K. Yee/The New York TimesThat’s when Woodie King Jr., founder of the New Federal Theater, came to see “For Colored Girls” at a bar. He was immediately drawn to the work. And he was especially drawn to the poem “Sorry,” Scott recalled. (“Sorry” details myriad excuses that women have heard from lovers to justify mistreatment.)“I gave it to Laurie Carlos [one of the show’s original cast members] the night before,” Scott explained. “I said, ‘I need this poem in this place. Here’s the poem, memorize it for tomorrow.’ And she looked at me and said, ‘Oz, are you crazy? I can’t.’”“I said, ‘Laurie, don’t worry. Just memorize it,’” Scott recalled. “And so, we got to that spot, and she just went into it, and Woodie King was sitting there, and she just looked at Woodie, and she gave the whole poem to Woodie, and she was letter perfect.”It was as if King were the “sorry” lover, sitting there and absorbing the women’s stories. “What propelled me to bring it to the New Federal Theater,” King, now 84, recalled, was that the “women in it were very beautiful and very Afrocentric.”The cast continued to rehearse and eventually performed for Joseph Papp, director of the New York Shakespeare Festival and the Public Theater.“I’d been working for Joe Papp,” Scott said. “I was stage managing ‘The Sun Always Shines for the Cool,’ Miguel Piñero’s play, and around seven o’clock when we’d finished rehearsal, I just scooted everybody out and would sneak the colored girls into the Public Theater and we would rehearse there. Somebody told me that Joe knew. And I said, ‘Joe doesn’t know.’ Joe knew.”They showed Papp the work in a little space that Papp had turned into a movie theater, Scott said. Gail, Papp’s wife, was there and she cried. “She said, ‘You got to do this, Joe,’” Scott said. “And so, Joe said, ‘OK, we’ll just do it in this little 40 to 50 seat theater.’”“I said, ‘You give me a theater, I’ll fill the space.’ So, Joe teamed up with Woodie, and we did it at Henry Street,” Scott said.In the introduction to the 2010 published version of “For Colored Girls,” Shange described opening night at Henry Street as being “divine” with “supplicants flocking from everywhere.”Beverley noted that “At the New Federal Theater, it was like we were at church. Sisters were falling out in the aisle, they were so energized and charged.”After the shows, Beverley said: “We would see a sister in the shadows, and she would follow us down the street, and then she would say, ‘Can I say, can I say something to you?’ And they would say thank you. Thank you for telling my story.”“You see,” she continued, “that’s one of the great impacts that the show had because it told the Black woman’s story. She told it like it was.”Opening Night at the PublicWith the move from Henry Street to the Public, the audience shifted from predominately Black to predominately white, and that continued to be the case when the production moved to the Booth Theater. Even with the growing size of the theaters, the work maintained its intimacy through its poetry, dance and music.On June 2, 1976, opening night at the Public’s Anspacher Theater, the show was sold out. “Joe Papp said, ‘I want you to invite all your friends,’” Scott recalled. “And I said, ‘Joe, the play is sold out.’”“He said, ‘Oz, tell your cast to invite all their friends,’” Scott said. “So, all our friends were out in the lobby of the Anspacher. And when the place was full. Joe said, ‘OK, bring all your friends, have them sit on the stairs.’” King was one of many to fill the stairs.“They sat in the front on the stage. There was no room. And I said, ‘Joe, what about the fire marshal.’ He said, ‘Oz, the play is an hour and 15 minutes. By the time the fire marshal gets here, the play will be over.’”“It was an absolute brilliant move,” Scott added, “because the energy in that room — you had the critics, they were all locked into that room, everybody was locked into that room. It was a magnetic night.”In its move to Broadway, the cast was expanded to include understudies. “I was brought in to audition to replace Zake,” Seret Scott, 72, an original member of the Broadway cast, said in a telephone interview. (Shange also performed in the play, as the Lady in Orange.)From the opening night on Broadway, the cast knew they had a hit. “You could hear ‘Oh!’ or ‘Mmm’ or somebody who would suddenly weep because it was too close,” Seret Scott said. “You could hear the comments. So that is how we knew we were embraced.”The Show’s LegacyPhysical movement drives “the choreopoem.” Instead of completing the play, Shange’s work is meant to unfold through dance and changes to the poems. Donald Sutton, the Shange estate’s literary trustee, said, “Ntozake saw herself as a dancer who supported herself as a professional writer.”He continued, “The chorepoem is driven by the poetry, but the poetry is danced and the poetry is accompanied in sound and the music. Putting all three of those elements together is very difficult.”For the Broadway revival, he added, “Camille’s background as a choreographer and her experience in stage directing gives her the opportunity to realize the choreopoem.”For the 2022 production, which begins previews April 1 and opens April 20, Brown will make her Broadway directorial debut; she is also choreographing the show. (Brown previously choreographed the Public’s 2019 revival of “For Colored Girls,” which was directed by Leah C. Gardiner.)The show “provides me the space to really dive into what I do which is choreography, but also storytelling of the body,” Brown said in a telephone interview. In executing her dual role, Brown will be drawing from her own work, specifically “Black Girl: Linguistic Play” and “Ink,” to find a physical language for Black girls and women to express their stories. “One of the lines in the work says, ‘sing a Black girl’s song,’ and that’s what it’s about,” Brown said. “What is the song for each of us — that anthem, that macro anthem that we all respond to but individually that speaks to us personally?”Although Brown said she is committed to providing a healing space for women of color, she said she plans to build on that legacy as well. “I think it is easy for you to get trapped into a certain way that this show needs to be done,” Brown said. “We need to hit these markers. They need to say it this way, we need to make sure this happens. I had to get out of that. I was talking to a friend and she said, ‘This is an offering.’ It’s going to be my offering.” More

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    How Married ‘Bachelor’ Couples Make it Work. Yes, Some Are Still Together.

    As “The Bachelor” franchise enters its 20th year, still-married couples who met on that show and “The Bachelorette” discuss how they’ve built lasting relationships.In the latest season of “The Bachelor,” Clayton Echard, the show’s 26th lead, said after a late-night rendezvous with a hopeful suitress, “If I ever need validation to know that this process works, I’m seeing it unfold before me.”But according to the numbers, perhaps unsurprisingly, that “process” — a weeks-long mass courtship in front of cameras that is meant to end with a proposal and, presumably, a marriage — is not very effective at yielding long-term relationships.Since the “The Bachelor” debuted on ABC in March 2002 and “The Bachelorette” the following year, only six couples who met on those shows are currently married. A seventh is expected to wed in May. In this time, there have been 34 televised proposals in 44 seasons combined. Taking into account those who met on other spinoffs, the number of currently married couples jumps from six to 10. (Representatives from Warner Bros and ABC declined to comment for this article.)As the franchise enters its 20th year, what can be gleaned from some of those still-wed couples’ most dramatic story lines ever? Below, five of the six who met on “The Bachelor” and “The Bachelorette” discuss how they’ve made it work since meeting on set. (The sixth couple, Rachel Lindsay and Bryan Abasolo, declined to comment for this article.)Catherine and Sean LoweCatherine and Sean Lowe.Craig Sjodin/Disney General Entertainment Content, via Getty ImagesThe Lowes met on season 17 of “The Bachelor,” which aired in 2013 and ended with Mr. Lowe’s on-camera proposal in Thailand. They were married the following year.The couple, who live in Dallas with their two sons, ages 5 and 3, and daughter, 2, have since built a life around what Ms. Lowe called “super chill” family traditions, including making homemade pizza.“Our happy place is at home with our kids,” said Ms. Lowe, 35, who runs a local gifting service and, with her husband, started a namesake furniture line, Home by Sean & Catherine Lowe.Mr. Lowe, 38, said that when people ask him how he found love on “The Bachelor,” his response is always the same. “I liken it to meeting 25 strangers on a dating app — you might connect with one of them,” he said.But “then you have to enter the real world, and it takes work,” he added.That he and Ms. Lowe, or any couple who married after meeting on the show, have managed to stay together still strikes him as somewhat improbable. “When you have girls racing in bikinis while driving lawn mowers it’s silly,” he said. “All the elements go against creating a long-term relationship.”Ms. Lowe, however, said she left the show feeling wiser about how to form a successful partnership. The accelerated courtship the contestants experience made her realize the importance of focusing on “non-negotiables” at the start of any romance, instead of worrying about “things that don’t matter, like leaving the toilet seat up.”She added that meeting Mr. Lowe on set with other people around helped her get a better understanding of his character, recalling a moment when she saw him speaking to the crew and “noticed that he knew everybody’s name.”“I took that as such an insight into who he really was when the cameras were down,” Ms. Lowe said.Molly and Jason MesnickMolly and Jason Mesnick.Kevin Casey, via Getty ImagesMr. Mesnick, the lead on “The Bachelor” season 13, which aired in 2009, stunned fans when he called off his engagement to Melissa Rycroft six weeks after proposing on air, and later proposed (off air) to his future wife, who was that season’s runner-up.“I think the challenge is that the public looks at that as a real engagement,” Mr. Mesnick, 45, said of the series’ televised proposals, which he considers more of a commitment to “see what happens over the next several months or a year or whatever.”Before the Mesnicks wed in 2010, they went through a bit of a get-to-know-you-again period, said Ms. Mesnick, 38.“You need to start over at square one and get to know each other,” she said, echoing Mr. Lowe’s sentiments that cast members do not behave on set as they would in real life. “They’re literally getting to know a totally different person when there’s not a camera or producer in your face.”On the show, Ms. Mesnick said, “I was really calm,” but in real life, “I’m very Type A and kind of crazy.” Mr. Mesnick, on the other hand, is “super go-with-the-flow.”“I think it’s taken us 10-to-12 years to finally get into a really good, easy groove on how to function in life,” Ms. Mesnick added.The Mesnicks, who live in Seattle, now say their contrasting personalities not only provide equilibrium in their relationship, but also in their work as brokers co-leading a real estate team in Kirkland, Wash. “She does the marketing, and I do face-to-face with our clients,” said Mr. Mesnick.When they met, Mr. Mesnick was a divorced father of one. Moving in with him and his then 4-year-old son in 2009, Ms. Mesnick said, at first “rocked their world.” But she and her stepson, now 17, eventually became “thick as thieves.”The couple, who have a 9-year-old daughter, say open and honest communication has been essential to making their relationship last. Ms. Mesnick said it has also helped that they got together before picking apart relationships from “The Bachelor” became a sport of sorts on social media.“It would have been brutal,” she added of the backlash they might have received when she and Mr. Mesnick got back together after he broke off his engagement with Ms. Rycroft.Chris and Desiree SiegfriedChris and Desiree Siegfried.Francisco Roman/Walt Disney Television, via Getty ImagesAs two people who initially didn’t want to be on TV — Ms. Siegfried said she applied for “The Bachelorette” season nine, which aired in 2013, as a “skeptic joke,” and Mr. Siegfried said that friends convinced him to join the cast after he declined an initial offer to participate — neither envisioned the experience would have a fairy-tale ending.But Ms. Siegfried, 35, a fashion designer and the founder of Desiree Hartsock Bridal, said that “really natural” chemistry paved the way for them to fall in love on set.Mr. Siegfried, 36, a loan officer, said “she was definitely someone I would pursue outside of television.”“Our conversation was easy,” he added. “And when we were talking, she knew what she wanted and was looking for in someone, and that was important to me.”After filming their on-camera engagement, Ms. Siegfried, who was living in Los Angeles and said she was “broke as could be,” relocated to Seattle, where she and Mr. Siegfried, who had moved there in 2011, started living in a new home together.“It would be hard for one person to dive into someone else’s life across state lines,” she said. “It was nice to start afresh together.”They married in 2015 and now live in Portland, Ore., with two sons, 3 and 5. Though the couple has no plans to appear on television again, watching it remains a beloved pastime, said Ms. Siegfried. Recently, their favorite shows include “Yellowstone” and “1883,” she said.Their relationship also benefits from spur-of-the-moment workday dates. “He’s like, ‘Hey, I have a break. You want to grab lunch?’” Ms. Siegfried said. “It’s fun to have that spontaneous lunchtime.”Heartfelt compliments, or “words of affirmation” as Mr. Siegfried put it, go a long way, too. “While everyone loves flowers, that’s not necessarily what she’s looking for.”Lauren and Arie LuyendykLauren and Arie Luyendyk.Paul Hebert/Disney General Entertainment Content, via Getty ImagesMr. Luyendyk, 40, a real-estate agent and racecar driver, initially proposed to Becca Kufrin at the end of “The Bachelor” season 22, which aired in 2018.But he soon ended their engagement because he couldn’t stop thinking about Ms. Luyendyk, 30, a fashion designer and the founder of the line Shades of Rose. On a live episode filmed after the pre-taped finale aired, Mr. Luyendyk proposed to Ms. Luyendyk in front of a studio audience.“I want to do this in front of everyone, because I want to show you that I should have done this a long time ago,” he said at the time.In some ways, the Luyendyks credit their bond’s strength to the backlash they faced after their engagement. “There was a lot of animosity in the room,” Ms. Luyendyk said. “I could see people glaring at me when I walked out.”“We’ve always said, ‘It’s us against the world,’” she added.The couple, who live in Scottsdale, Ariz., married in Hawaii in 2019, while Ms. Luyendyk was pregnant with their daughter, now 2. In June 2021, they became a family of five when the couple had twins, a boy and a girl.Between work and parenthood, they say it has been harder to carve out time for themselves, making their home an ideal venue when they can fit it in. One recent activity: “Goat yoga in the backyard,” Mr. Luyendyk said. “It was messy.”Their morning coffee ritual is another opportunity to connect. “We love to be up early and have coffee together and make that little time for us before the babies wake up,” he said. Added Ms. Luyendyk, “Some nights, I can’t wait to have coffee in the morning.”Trista and Ryan SutterTrista and Ryan Sutter.Craig Sjodin/Disney General Entertainment Content, via Getty ImagesThe Sutters wed in December 2003 on a three-part televised special that followed their appearance on “The Bachelorette” season one, which aired earlier that year. They now live with their son, 14, and daughter, 13, in Vail, Colo., and their 18-year marriage is the longest in the franchise’s history.Ms. Sutter, 49, who has since written a book and hosted a podcast, was the runner-up on season one of “The Bachelor.” She said that appearing on both shows convinced her you can find love anywhere, including “on national television like we did.”Mr. Sutter, 47, a firefighter, said that though “there is pressure” for finalists like himself to propose at the end of a season, “I never felt it to the degree that I made any major decisions because of it.”But, he added, “If I’m being honest, I really didn’t know her as well as I probably should have prior to asking her to marry me.”Like other couples, acclimating to a regular life together after the show proved trying for the Sutters. Mr. Sutter said that a mental health professional whom he spoke to during the casting process told him that contestants’ lives could be affected for up to three months after their season ended. “She missed the mark by years,” he said.Making time for in-person conversations is something both have prioritized over the course of their marriage. “Throw your phones in your drawer once you come home from work,” said Ms. Sutter of a tactic they use to eliminate distractions during one-on-one time.Playing pickleball, taking camping trips with their children and sitting down at a table to eat dinner each day are other activities that enhance their relationship.While no relationship is always roses and Neil Lane diamond rings, the Sutters say theirs is one that people continue to cite as an example of marital bliss. Over the years, Mr. Sutter said that they have been asked how they make their relationship work “hundreds of times,” and that their reply has evolved along with their marriage.If they could sum up their answer in a song, Ms. Sutter would point people to “Legends,” Kelsea Ballerini’s 2017 single. “Basically it says no one believed in us, but we did.” More