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      Will Jennings, Oscar Winner for ‘My Heart Will Go On,’ Dies at 80

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      As an in-demand lyricist, he won a shelf of awards for hits with Steve Winwood, Eric Clapton and Dionne Warwick, as well as for the theme song for “Titanic.”Will Jennings, an English professor turned lyricist whose 1998 Academy Award for “My Heart Will Go On,” the theme song from the movie “Titanic,” capped a long career writing hits for musicians like Steve Winwood, Eric Clapton and Dionne Warwick, died on Sept. 6 at his home in Tyler, Texas. He was 80.The office of his agent, Sam Schwartz, confirmed the death but did not cite a cause.Mr. Jennings won the Oscar for best song twice: for “My Heart Will Go On,” which he wrote with James Horner and which was performed by Celine Dion; and in 1983 for “Up Where We Belong,” from the film “An Officer and a Gentleman”; written with Jack Nitzsche and Buffy Sainte-Marie, it was performed by Joe Cocker and Jennifer Warnes.Mr. Jennings, right, in 1998 with James Horner and Celine Dion, with whom he collaborated on “My Heart Will Go On.”Frank Trapper/Corbis, via Getty ImagesMr. Jennings, right, in 1983 with Jack Nitzsche and Buffy Sainte-Marie when they won an Oscar for “Up Where We Belong.”ABC Photo Archives/Disney General Entertainment Content, via Getty ImagesIn most of his hits, Mr. Jennings wrote the lyrics while his collaborators wrote the melodies — an unsurprising division of labor, given that Mr. Jennings came to songwriting after a career teaching poetry and English literature.He was known for his disciplined work ethic, his subtle references to classical literature tucked into seemingly airy pop tunes and his insistence on getting to know an artist or film to inhabit their perspectives.“With Will, his personality broke down all the barriers and got to what’s real,” said Mr. Crowell, who wrote several songs with Mr. Jennings, including “Many a Long and Lonesome Highway” (1989) and “What Kind Of Love” (1992).We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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      Film Noir Was All About Ticking Clocks and Checking the Time

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      Experts say the genre was all about suspense, and what better way to convey that to audiences than an obsession with time?The race against the clock — to solve a crime, to outwit a villain, to escape one’s fate — has propelled the plotlines of dozens of the movies that define Hollywood’s golden age of noir, the dark movies that dominated screens from the 1930s to the ’50s.“Time and film noir go together like ham and eggs,” said Alan Rode, an author and a director of the Film Noir Foundation, which sponsors Noir City, a continuing series of film festivals that this month has been scheduled in Chicago, Detroit, Washington and Philadelphia. “Time is a continuum not only of our lives, but also in film noir.”That foreboding sense of time defines film noir — in English, “dark film” — a phrase that was coined in 1938 by Lucien Rebatet, the French author who wrote under the pseudonym François Vinneuil, but is most closely associated with the French film critic Nino Frank. He used it in 1946 to define the cynical films of postwar America.The genre itself, however, has not been defined anywhere near as clearly.Some film scholars have said it describes detectives or private eyes caught up in a world of crooks and femme fatales who lead them astray. But a broader definition has been the immoral journey of a protagonist caught in downward spiral, all of it being clocked somehow in the shadowy black-and-white of film.“Film noir is replete with time moments, partly because the driving mechanism of its stories is suspense, and partly because the lost chances and missed deadlines of noir lends a strong mood of regret and pathos,” Helen Hanson, an associate professor of film history at the University of Exeter in England and the author of several books on noir, said by email.“Perhaps because film noir existed in an era defined by time and life lost during World War II, it featured a heightened sense of how quickly life can go haywire.”We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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      James Earl Jones Movies: From Darth Vader in ‘Star Wars’ to Mufasa in ‘Lion King’

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      A look at standout movies featuring the actor, who died on Monday at the age of 93.James Earl Jones died on Monday at the age of 93. Like his contemporary Sidney Poitier, Jones helped change the perception of Black actors in Hollywood, creating indelible movie and TV characters who defied the prevailing stereotypes.Born in Mississippi and raised in Michigan, Jones spent much of his early career in New York, working in theater, TV and radio, where he trained his deep, booming voice. Because of his rich vocal tones and authoritative air, the actor was in high demand throughout his professional life, as both a narrator and as someone who could bring a sense of seriousness to supporting parts.The 12 movies below predominantly showcase Jones’s voice and his skills as a character actor. But the few leading roles show that if he had been given the same kind of opportunities as Poitier, Jones might have been just as big a star.‘Dr. Strangelove’ (1964)Rent on Apple TV or Amazon.Not many actors have the good fortune to make their big-screen debut in one of the greatest films of all time. Jones only appears in a handful of scenes in Stanley Kubrick’s grim nuclear war comedy “Dr. Strangelove,” but he does a lot with those few minutes, playing a bombardier whose consummate professionalism leads him to follow the orders of any crackpot commander or incompetent politician who barks in his ear.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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      Demi Moore and the Subversive Politics of the Naked Body

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      By the end of the 1990s, after years of giving her all to Hollywood and baring most of her all, too, Demi Moore began her fade-out. She had been a major film star that decade, complete with huge hits, humbling flops, famous friends, a celebrity marriage and headline-making magazine covers. Like all stars, she put in the work and sold the merch, herself included. And, like a lot of female stars, she made movies with male filmmakers who turned her into a spectacle of desire, a spectacle that she partly sought ownership of via her body.You see a lot of her body in Moore’s latest movie, “The Substance,” from the French filmmaker Coralie Fargeat. (It opens Sept. 20.) It’s a body-horror freakout that satirically takes aim at the commodification of women, and Moore is ferociously memorable in it as an actress who’s fired when she hits 50. It’s a performance that’s strong enough that you stop thinking about the fact that she’s naked in a lot of the scenes, strong enough to make you stop wondering what her exercise regime is or what work, if any, she’s had done. By the end, I admired how she had risen above the material; I also hoped she has better movies in her future.She deserves them. Her performance in “The Substance” is a gaudy, physically demonstrative role that requires her to convey a range of outsize states that dovetail with the movie’s excesses, from her character’s plasticky on-camera smiles to her private despair and boiling rage. Like some of Moore’s best-known movies, “The Substance” also requires her to shed her clothing. Even after decades of watching her perform in states of undress, it is startling to see Moore, now 61, stand naked before a mirror as the camera slowly travels across her body. There’s a near-clinical quality to how she looks at herself and, I think, a touch of defiance.Demi Moore as an actress coping with issues of aging in Hollywood in “The Substance.”MubiThe 1980s weren’t a welcoming period for women in the mainstream movie industry, yet Moore gradually succeeded in making a name for herself in between hanging with her pals in the Brat Pack and appearing in mediocre films (“St. Elmo’s Fire”) and flat-out rotten ones (“About Last Night,” ugh). Her big break came with “Ghost” (1990), a dreamy, sad romance in which she plays a dewy-eyed artist whose lover (Patrick Swayze) is murdered. Moore looked “terminally wistful much of the time” in the film, as Janet Maslin observed in The New York Times. Yet Moore also “combines toughness and delicacy most attractively,” which nicely expresses her gift for characters who often seem compelled to safeguard their vulnerabilities.“Ghost” was the top-grossing movie of the year, racked up more than a half a billion dollars at the global box office and catapulted Moore into true stardom. She followed this by starring in, as well as producing, “Mortal Thoughts” (1991), a deliciously nasty noirish drama about two working-class Jersey friends (Moore and Glenne Headly) who cover up the murder of one of their husbands, played with relish and persuasive vulgarity by Moore’s husband at the time, Bruce Willis. One of her finest movies, it gave her a chance to express her range partly because she was working with a real filmmaker, Alan Rudolph. In contrast to many of her earlier directors, he didn’t treat Moore like a sex puppet but instead helped her create a nuanced, teasingly elusive woman.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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      Why You May Never See the Documentary on Prince by Ezra Edelman

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      Dig, if you will, a small slice of Ezra Edelman’s nine-hour documentary about Prince — a cursed masterpiece that the public may never be allowed to see.Listen to this article, read by Janina EdwardsIt’s 1984, and Prince is about to release “Purple Rain,” the album that will make him a superstar and push pop music into distant realms we had no idea we were ready for. The sound engineer Peggy McCreary, one of many female engineers he worked with, describes witnessing a flash of genius during the creation of his song “When Doves Cry.” Over a two-day marathon recording session, she and Prince filled the studio with sound — wailing guitars, thrumming keyboards, an overdubbed choir of harmonizing Princes. It was the sort of maximalist stew possible only when someone is (as Prince was) a master of just about every musical instrument ever invented. But something wasn’t right. So at 5 or 6 in the morning, Prince found the solution: He started subtracting. He took out the guitar solo; he took out the keyboard. And then his boldest, most heterodox move: He took out the bass. McCreary remembers him saying, with satisfaction, “Ain’t nobody gonna believe I did that.” He knew what he had. The song became an anthem, a platinum megahit.The next sequence starts to probe the origins of Prince’s genius, how it grew alongside a gnawing desire for recognition. His sister, Tyka Nelson, a woman with owlish eyes and pink and purple streaks in her hair, appears onscreen. She describes the violence in their household growing up. How their musician father’s face changed when he hit their mother. The ire he directed at his son, on whom he bestowed his former stage name, Prince — a gift, but also a burden, a reminder that the demands of supporting his children had caused him to abandon his own musical career. Prince would risk lashings by sneaking over to the piano and plinking away at it — the son already embarked on his life’s work of besting his father, the father giving and withdrawing love, the son doing the same.Cut to Jill Jones, one in a long line of girlfriend-muses whom Prince anointed, styled, encouraged and criticized. Hers is one of the most anguished testimonies in the film, revealing a side of Prince many of his fans would rather not see. Late one night in 1984, she and a friend visited Prince at a hotel. He started kissing the friend, and in a fit of jealousy, Jones slapped him. She says he then looked at her and said, “Bitch, this ain’t no [expletive] movie.” They tussled, and he began to punch her in the face over and over. She wanted to press charges, but his manager told her it would ruin his career. So she backed off. Yet for a time, she still loved him and wanted to be with him, and stayed in his orbit for many more years. Recounting the incident three decades later, she is still furious, still processing the stress of being involved with him.In the next sequence, it’s the evening of the premiere of “Purple Rain,” the movie, which will go on to win the Academy Award for best original song score in 1985. Prince’s tour manager, Alan Leeds, was with him in the back of a limo on the way to the ceremony. He remembers one of Prince’s bodyguards turning to Prince and saying: “This is going to be the biggest day of your life! They say every star in town is there!” And Prince clutched Leeds’s hand, trembling in fear. But then, as Leeds tells it, some switch flipped, and “he caught himself.” Prince’s eyes turned hard. He was back in control. “That was it,” Leeds says. “But for maybe 10 seconds, he completely lost it. And I loved it. Because it showed he was human!” In the next shot, we see Prince emerging from the limo and walking down the red carpet in an iridescent purple trench coat over a creamy ruffled collar, his black curls piled high. He swaggers, twirling a flower, unbothered: a creature of regal remove.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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      In ‘Matlock,’ Kathy Bates Takes One Last Case

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      Kathy Bates was ready to quit. A movie shoot had soured (no, she won’t specify the movie) and she found herself alone, on her sofa in Los Angeles, sobbing. Bates, who won an Oscar for “Misery” and Emmys for “American Horror Story” and “Two and a Half Men,” has always taken her work to heart in an all-consuming way.“It becomes my life,” she said. “Sometimes I get jealous of having this talent. Because I can’t hold it back, and I just want my life.” She had given herself over to this part, and the gift had been ignored. The next day, she called her agents and told them she wanted to retire.A few weeks later, in January of this year, her agents sent her a script. It was for a procedural, which she hadn’t been looking for, and it was a reboot of a series that hadn’t especially moved her the first time: “Matlock,” a drama about a folksy attorney with a virtuosic legal mind and a wardrobe of seersucker suits. It endures in the cultural memory mostly as a punchline about shows old people like to watch.Still she began to read the script. And she kept reading. The protagonist, a woman who feels that age had rendered her invisible, was brilliant, canny, out for justice, and Bates has always had a strong sense of fairness. She feels the injustices of her career and her early life acutely, and the idea of playing a woman out to right wrongs called to her.So she paused her retirement. And “Matlock,” which debuts on CBS on Sept. 22 and will stream on Paramount+, became the unlikely vessel into which Bates, 76, can pour her talent, her vigor and surprisingly, given the shallowness of a typical procedural, all of her pain.“Everything I’ve prayed for, worked for, clawed my way up for, I am suddenly able to be asked to use all of it,” she said. “And it’s exhausting.”We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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      ‘Room Next Door’ Claims Top Prize at Venice Film Festival

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      The film, starring Tilda Swinton and Julianne Moore, is the director Pedro Almodóvar’s English-language debut.“The Room Next Door,” directed by Pedro Almodóvar, was awarded the Golden Lion for best film at the 81st Venice International Film Festival on Saturday by a competition jury led by Isabelle Huppert. In the film, a journalist with cancer (Tilda Swinton) asks an old friend, played by Julianne Moore, to stay with her when she decides to take her own life.“It is my first movie in English, but the spirit is Spanish,” Almodóvar said of his adaptation of “What Are You Going Through,” the 2020 novel by Sigrid Nunez. In accepting the award, the acclaimed auteur spoke of the decision to end one’s life in circumstances of unresolvable pain as a fundamental right.Moore’s vigil with Swinton takes place in a rented house in upstate New York. The small cast features John Turturro as a former lover and Alessandro Nivola as a police investigator. Almodóvar won a lifetime achievement award at the Venice Film Festival in 2019 and, in 2021, opened the event with his film “Parallel Mothers” (for which Penélope Cruz won the best actress prize).The 81st edition of the festival opened with “Beetlejuice Beetlejuice,” Tim Burton’s sequel to the original 1988 supernatural comedy. Other prominent films included “Maria,” “Queer,” “Babygirl,” “Joker: Folie à Deux,” “Wolfs,” “Cloud,” “April,” “Pavements,” “The Order” and “Horizon: An American Saga — Chapter Two.”Despite sweltering heat, the stars were back in full force in Venice after last year’s actors’ strike. The list of boldface names was remarkable: Nicole Kidman, Joaquin Phoenix, Angelina Jolie, Daniel Craig, Lady Gaga, Brad Pitt, George Clooney, Antonio Banderas, Cate Blanchett, Adrien Brody, Jude Law, Jenna Ortega, Winona Ryder, Kevin Costner, Michael Keaton, Swinton and Moore.The Silver Lion Grand Jury Prize went to “Vermiglio,” an intimate period drama by Maura Delpero set in an Italian mountain village. The Silver Lion for best director went to Brady Corbet for “The Brutalist,” a three-and-a-half-hour drama about a Hungarian Jewish architect in America. Dea Kulumbegashvili won the Special Jury Prize for “April,” an acclaimed film about a Georgian doctor who performs abortions despite a ban on the procedures.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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      ‘The Interview’: Change Can Be Beautiful. Just Ask Will Ferrell and Harper Steele.

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      How well do we know our friends? Our neighbors? Ourselves? In the new documentary “Will & Harper,” which opens in select theaters on Sept. 13 and will stream on Netflix starting Sept. 27, the superstar comedian Will Ferrell and his best friend and frequent collaborator, Harper Steele, take a New York-to-California road trip together to try to answer those questions.Listen to the Conversation with Will Ferrell and Harper SteeleThe superstar comedian and his best friend and collaborator discuss the journey that deepened their friendship.Subscribe: Apple Podcasts | Spotify | YouTube | Amazon | iHeart | NYT Audio AppHitting the highway on a quest for meaning is a classic American story, but it hasn’t been told in exactly this fashion before: Steele is a trans woman who came out to her friends, including Ferrell, two years ago. That was after years as a comedy writer, many of them at “Saturday Night Live,” where they both worked and where Steele eventually became a head writer. The two friends explained to me that the show wasn’t always the easiest environment, though they have different reasons for saying so. They also experienced some ups and downs on their cross-country drive, which gave them a chance to talk through what Steele’s transition means for their friendship and to get a clearer sense of how their fellow Americans feel about transgender identity.As you might expect, the film’s soul-searching often comes wrapped in laughs. But given the politicization of trans rights, even situations the duo set up for silly comedy can turn tense. There’s a key scene in the documentary in which Steele and Ferrell stop for what they hope is a goofy eating challenge at a rowdy Texas steakhouse. It does not wind up being goofy.That scene, and this emotionally wide-ranging film, evoked feelings in me that work by Will Ferrell hasn’t before. (And I say that as someone who will happily argue for the deeper resonance of his gloriously idiotic “Step Brothers.”) But as “Will & Harper” the movie and Will and Harper the people attest, change can very often be a good and necessary thing — a funny one too.The hard-hitting first question: How did you become friends? Ferrell: We became friends at “Saturday Night Live.” We were hired in the summer or fall of 1995, and we were all this brand-new group. No one knew each other, and one day Harper and I went to lunch. A very pivotal lunch for me. More