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      Striking Actors Join Writers on Picket Lines in LA and NYC

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      In Los Angeles and New York, actors and screenwriters braved the heat to admonish the major studios and demand a new deal.It was 10 a.m., adoring union members had already more or less mobbed their president, Fran Drescher, and the crowd was growing by the minute.Outside Netflix offices in Hollywood, a festive, buoyant mood had taken over the intersection of Sunset Boulevard and Van Ness Avenue. It was a workers’ strike, to be sure. But as smiling protesters eagerly joined in chants and high-fived their picket signs, it felt a little like a summer Friday street party. One with a few famous guests.“We’re told that we should just be so grateful to get to do what we love to do — but not being compensated, not being protected while they are profiting off of our work,” said Amanda Crew from HBO’s “Silicon Valley,” who walked the picket line with Dustin Milligan from “Schitt’s Creek.”“That’s the myth of the actor: You’re doing art so you should just be so grateful because you’re living your dream. Why? Do we do that to doctors? We bring so much joy to people by entertaining them,” Crew added.It was the first of what could be many days of marching for actors, who picketed at locations across the country. They chanted, “Actors and writers unite!” as they marched along a short block in Times Square where Paramount conducts business; they passed out bottles of cold water and cans of La Croix outside 30 Rockefeller Plaza in Midtown Manhattan; and they bounced their picket signs to the sounds of Jay-Z’s “Dirt Off Your Shoulder” as it blared from a speaker in Hollywood.A day earlier, the Hollywood actors’ union, known as SAG-AFTRA, approved a strike for the first time in 43 years, joining forces with writers, who walked out in May.“There’s a renewed sense of excitement and solidarity,” said Alicia Carroll, a strike captain for the Writers Guild of America. “Writers have been out here for upwards of 70 days. It’s been a while and it’s hot. People are tired. So this is a confidence boost that we’re not alone in the industry in terms of issues.”The actors Bill Irwin and Susan Sarandon picketed in New York on Friday.Andres Kudacki for The New York TimesThe actors and writers have been unable to agree to new contracts with the Alliance of Motion Picture and Television Producers, which represents major studios and streamers. Pay is a central issue, but the negotiations around compensation have been complicated by the emergence of streaming services and the rise of artificial intelligence.Actors, including Ms. Drescher, the president of their union, have cast the moment as an inflection point, arguing that the entire business model for the $134 billion American movie and television business has changed. They say their new contract needs to account for those changes with various guardrails and protections, including increased residual payments (a type of royalty) from streaming services. They are also worried about how A.I. could be used to replicate their work: scripts in the case of writers and digital replicas of their likenesses for actors.Hollywood companies have insisted that they worked in good faith to reach a reasonable deal at what has also been a difficult time for an industry that has been upended by streaming and is still dealing with the lingering effects of the pandemic.“The union has regrettably chosen a path that will lead to financial hardship for countless thousands of people who depend on the industry,” the studio alliance said in a statement after SAG-AFTRA announced the strike.On Friday, writers said they were heartened to be joined on the picket lines by actors, many of whom have been marching with them for months in the black-and-yellow T-shirts that have become something of a uniform. It is the first time since 1960 that actors and screenwriters have been on strike at the same time.WGA leaders have shared picket line advice: Bring plenty of sunscreen and set a timer to reapply, watch out for traffic. But some actors were already veterans.The actor Greg Germann being interviewed at Netflix’s office in Los Angeles on Friday.Jenna Schoenefeld for The New York Times“I have not been to a picket without SAG-AFTRA members there. Sometimes they have even outnumbered us here in the east,” said Lisa Takeuchi Cullen, a vice president of the Writers Guild of America, East. “They have been our stalwart supporters and comrades, and we intend to reciprocate.”“Suddenly,” she added, “the sleeping giant has awakened.”Indeed, some of the union’s most prominent members took to the streets Friday and drew notice as the afternoon wore on. Jason Sudeikis showed up at 30 Rock; Susan Sarandon went to the Flatiron neighborhood, where picketers targeted Warner Bros. Discovery; and Sean Astin marched outside the Netflix offices in Los Angeles.“Our careers have been turned into gig work,” Mr. Astin said over a chorus of frenetic honks of support from passing cars. “It’s not just that we’re not going to take it anymore — we actually can’t take it anymore.”An animated Ms. Drescher had arrived at the same location earlier in the day and was met with an exuberant crowd that wrapped itself around her.“This strike and this negotiation is going to impact everybody, and if we don’t take control of this situation from these greedy megalomaniacs, we are all going to be in threat of losing our livelihoods,” Ms. Drescher said.“I’m not really here for me as much as the 99.9 percent of the membership who are working people who are just trying to make a living to put food on the table, pay rent and get their kids off to school,” she added. “They are the ones that are being squeezed out of their livelihood, and it’s just pathetic.”Shara Ashley Zeiger, an actor, brought her 2-year-old, Lily, to the picket in front of NBC’s offices in New York. A sign protruded from her daughter’s stroller. Lily played with her food — and a tambourine.“The effects of this deal directly affect my daughter and my family,” Ms. Zeiger said.She added: “I had had a role on a project that was on a streamer, and their deal was they didn’t have to pay me residuals for two years. And it was in the middle of the pandemic.”Thousands of miles west in Los Angeles, Evan Shafran, an actor who had taken it upon himself to put together an hourslong playlist for the strike, wondered whether he might eventually need to apply for Medi-Cal, the state’s medical assistance program. He was able to string together enough work to pay for health insurance this year, but he could not be sure how things would pan out in the future.And last week, Mr. Shafran said, his car was stolen. But he took an Uber from his home in the San Fernando Valley to the Netflix offices anyway.“I spent $100 to come protest today even though I’m out of work,” he said. “I need to be out here.” More

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      Five Questions for the Director of the Documentary ‘The League’

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      Five questions for the director Sam Pollard about his documentary, and the preservation of the history of the Negro leagues.Sam Pollard’s documentary “The League” introduces audiences to the teams, stars and little-known figures who populated the Negro leagues by chronicling how Black professional baseball first sprouted. It covers the period from just before the majors instituted a gentlemen’s agreement banning African Americans from playing with white players, to the Negro leagues becoming one of America’s biggest Black-owned businesses, to its demise.Archival footage and interviews with former players, along with the words of the former Negro league umpire Bob Motley (narrated by Pollard), bring to life the athletic feats and civil rights achievements by people like Josh Gibson, Satchel Paige, Jackie Robinson and more who made the space between the white lines a more fully realized Black experience.In an audio interview, Pollard spoke about how he set about constructing his film, and the ways he connected the Negro leagues to the Civil Rights movement. Below are edited excerpts from the conversation.Where did you find the archival Negro league interviews?We were very fortunate that the project was initiated by Byron Motley, who, with his dad, Bob Motley, a former Negro league umpire in the 1940s and 1950s, wrote a memoir about those days growing up in the South, becoming a baseball fan and loving the Negro leagues, and after World War II becoming an umpire. Byron also interviewed, through his dad, former Negro league players on video. He had access to that material too. That was a very important element.With Negro league box scores difficult to come by, how were you able to formulate the statistics that appear in the film?One of our advisers and one of the people we interviewed is a fanatic about Negro league statistics. That’s Larry Lester. He’s done a deep, deep dive into the statistics of players like Satchel Paige and Josh Gibson. That’s where we were able to compare the batting percentage of Josh Gibson against Barry Bonds. That’s where we were able to compare the pitching percentage of Satchel Paige versus Nolan Ryan. Because Larry Lester really has done his homework. So, these stories don’t feel apocryphal anymore. They feel very cemented in facts.The director Sam Pollard.Magnolia PicturesHow does the film tell the story of Black baseball in Latin America?I mean, the fact that a lot of Latin players who were dark-skinned couldn’t play in major leagues, they had to play in the Negro leagues; and vice versa, when the Negro league season was over, a lot of these players went to the Caribbean and Mexico to play. It’s amazing to think about when the major leagues were integrated, by the 1960s, a lot of Latin players who had been informed by watching Negro league players play, were inspired to play baseball.It’s a rich story. Some of the footage we got, for example, the American poet and writer, Quincy Troupe, who wrote the book “Miles: The Autobiography” with Miles Davis; his dad, who’s also named Quincy Troupe, was a Negro league catcher. Some of the footage in this film was from his archives, such as footage of him traveling to these Latin American countries. So, it was an opportunity to tell a richer and more complicated story.Why link the Negro leagues to the Civil Rights Movement?America as we know it is a very complicated place, but its history is based on systemic racism. We’ve gone through many trials and tribulations in the evolution of this history. Black folks had to build our own communities. You saw these communities built in places like New York’s Harlem or Chicago’s Bronzeville, or Black Wall Street in Tulsa, Okla. By living together, we had to rely on each other in terms of entertainment and economics. There was no way you could tell the story of the Negro leagues without telling the story of the larger perspective of Black communities from the 1920s all the way up until integration really took hold.Why did you decide to end the story before getting to African Americans in contemporary baseball?Think of it this way, this film is an hour and 46 minutes. If we were to go into the material you’re talking about, which is obviously very vital and important in understanding the state of American baseball today — that story needs to be told — you can’t do justice to that story by trying to cram in another four or five minutes in this film. That wouldn’t be fair. From my perspective, we’re still a little tight because we’re still trying to get some information in at the very end. If I can raise the money, that’d be the next film: What happened to the African American explosion in baseball? By the late 1970s, early 1980s, it dwindled. Why did it dwindle? That’s a good question. More

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      Fran Drescher Takes Center Stage as the Actors’ Union Leader

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      Fran Drescher, who became a household name for her role on a 1990s sitcom, is now president of the union going on strike.The stage was different, and so was the tone. But the voice was unmistakable.Fran Drescher, the owner of a distinctly nasal, Queens-inflected accent, made her name in Hollywood for her starring role in the sitcom “The Nanny.” On Thursday, she appeared before dozens of cameras as the president of the actors’ union that voted unanimously earlier in the day to go on strike, delivering a fiery argument depicting the stakes of the decision.“The eyes of the world and particularly the eyes of labor are upon us,” Ms. Drescher said. “What happens to us is important. What’s happening to us is happening across all fields of labor.”She shook her fists in indignation. “I am shocked by the way the people that we have been in business with are treating us!” she continued. “It is disgusting. Shame on them!”Ms. Drescher is the latest in a long line of familiar faces — Ronald Reagan, Patty Duke and Charlton Heston among them — to run SAG-AFTRA, the union that represents tens of thousands of screen actors. But it amounts to a surprising plot twist in her long career.As the Thursday news conference made clear, she is now a leading face of a resurgent labor movement nationally. How she handles it in the coming weeks, and possibly, months could help determine the fate of 160,000 actors.The actors’ strike, which will go into effect on Friday, marks a crisis point for Hollywood, which has already been rocked in recent years by the pandemic and sweeping technological shifts with the rise of streaming and the steady decline of cable television and box office returns. Hollywood writers have been on strike for months, and with actors now joining them — the first time since 1960 that both are on strike at the same time — the industry will essentially grind to a halt.Ms. Drescher, 65, has spent decades acting in Hollywood, both in television and film. Since her starring role on “The Nanny” in the 1990s, by far her most prominent role, she has appeared sporadically in television and feature films. She most recently starred in a short-lived sitcom for NBC called “Indebted,” which lasted 12 episodes before it was canceled in 2020.She has long expressed concerns about corporate greed, captioning photos with slogans like “STOP CAPITALIST GREED NOW.” It was enough for New York Magazine to put a headline on a 2017 blog post, “Your New Favorite Anti-Capitalist Icon Is Fran Drescher.”A few years later, in 2021, Ms. Drescher won election to the guild presidency in a deeply contested race versus the actor Matthew Modine. They represented different factions: Ms. Drescher for the establishment Unite for Strength Party, and Mr. Modine for an upstart group, Membership First.The race become so bitter that Mr. Modine accused Ms. Drescher of spreading falsehoods about him and reportedly said, “I’m ashamed of Fran Drescher, I’m disappointed. But she’ll be judged by the people in the world after she’s gone, or by whatever God she worships.”Unlike the screenwriters, who have gone on strike many times over the decades and historically been unified, actors have been known more for their intramural squabbling. Hollywood had been bracing for a writers strike since the beginning of the year — but few senior executives and producers were prepared for the actors to have the resolve to go through with it.When Ms. Drescher came into power she vowed to bring the union together and to bring an end to the “dysfunctional division in this union.”When the actors agreed to a strike authorization, it was with 97.9 percent of the vote — a stunning figure that even eclipsed the writers’ significant strike authorization. Last month, Membership First, the opposition party, endorsed Ms. Drescher’s re-election bid.Ms. Drescher on a picket line with members of the writers’ union in Los Angeles in May.Chris Pizzello/Associated PressStill, some of her public statements and actions in recent weeks have confounded many actors.In late June, days before the actors’ contract was set to expire, Ms. Drescher and the union’s lead negotiator, Duncan Crabtree-Ireland, released a video that struck many viewers as surprisingly upbeat given the high stakes of the negotiations.“I just want to assure you that we are having extremely productive negotiations that are laser-focused on all the crucial issues that you told us are most important to you,” she said, wearing a military jacket. “We are standing strong, and we’re going to achieve a seminal deal!”Just days later, more than 1,000 actors, including Meryl Streep and Jennifer Lawrence, signed a letter expressing concerns to union leadership that they were not taking into account their willingness to strike. “We hope that, on our behalf, you will meet that moment and not miss it,” the letter said.Ms. Drescher — curiously, given her position — added her signature to the letter.On Monday, days before the actors’ contract was set to expire, Ms. Drescher drew attention on another front: She was attending a couture Dolce & Gabbana fashion show in Puglia, Italy, where she posed for photos with Kim Kardashian. To her 362 million Instagram followers, Ms. Kardashian said of Ms. Drescher: “To my fashion icon! Always on my mood board! I seriously love this woman!”On Monday, Kim Kardashian posted this photo with Ms. Drescher at the Dolce & Gabbana fashion show in Puglia, Italy.Kim Kardashian, via InstagramThe backlash was quick and swift. The “General Hospital” actress Nancy Lee Grahn questioned if the photo was a joke. “I’m hoping this is not true. It can’t be. No one could be this stupid,” she wrote on Twitter.In a statement, a spokeswoman for the actors’ union said that Ms. Drescher was working as a “brand ambassador” for Dolce and Gabbana, and that the commitment was “fully known to the negotiating committee.” Mr. Crabtree-Ireland called criticism of Ms. Drescher’s appearance at the fashion show “outrageous” and “despicable.”Ms. Drescher addressed the issue at the news conference on Thursday. “It was absolute work,” she said, adding that she continued to communicate with negotiators from abroad. “I was in hair and makeup three hours a day, walking in heels on cobblestones. Doing things like that, which is work. Not fun.”While Mr. Crabtree-Ireland spoke at the news conference from a teleprompter, Ms. Drescher spoke off the cuff.“Wake up and smell the coffee,” she said of the studios. “We demand respect! You cannot exist without us!”“They stand on the wrong side of history at this very moment,” she continued, pointing her finger forcefully toward the camera banks. “We stand in solidarity in unprecedented unity. Our union, our sister unions, and the unions around the world, are standing by us.” More

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      When Spider-Man Met Jeff Koons

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      Our critic spots references to Hilma af Klint and Lichtenstein in “Across the Spider-Verse.” Koons, who inspired the film’s creative team, gets top billing with an animated survey (before his work is destroyed).“Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse,” the sequel to the 2018 reimagining of the arachnid-adolescent superhero, doubles down on the first installment with an inventive and magpie visual style. The result is, at least in part, a crash course in art history (literally so, as characters frequently crash into works of art).While the film is largely rendered in computer-generated animation that speeds by at a dizzying clip, there are moments of slowed, even stunning beauty: backgrounds dissolving with painterly effect, shifting into emotive abstraction reminiscent of, at turns, the work of Kandinsky, Mondrian and Hilma af Klint. New York’s cityscape is softened into brushy, Impressionistic swaths. Ben-Day dots stutter across the screen, a nod to the story’s comic book source material, but also calling up Roy Lichtenstein’s appropriations of the same.Justin K. Thompson, a director of the film, said the collision of techniques and applications was deliberate. “We wanted to emulate dry brush, watercolor, acrylic,” he said. “I looked a lot at the work of Paul Klee, the work of Lyonel Feininger.” The experimental films of John Whitney, a pioneer of computer animation, were another inspiration.There are also a number of more direct allusions to contemporary art. An early set piece in the Guggenheim Museum’s Frank Lloyd Wright building allowed the filmmakers gleeful abandon. A version of the perennial Spider-Man villain Vulture that appears as if lifted from a Leonardo da Vinci parchment drawing tumbles through the museum’s rotunda, wielding weapons inspired by da Vinci’s fanciful and terrifying inventions and causing havoc in what quickly appears to be a Jeff Koons retrospective. The fight scene deploys several of Koons’s sculptures of inflatable toys, like “Lobster” (2003) and “Dolphin” (2002), hurled as projectiles. Naturally, a Koons Balloon Dog, his most readily recognizable work, receives top billing.The scene’s version of Vulture, grappling here with one of the multiverse’s many Spider-Men, appears as if lifted out of a Leonardo da Vinci drawing.Sony Pictures Animation“When we talked about the Balloon Dog we said, ‘What could we do with it? What would be special?’” Thompson told me. Koons, he recalled, “was actually the one who said, ‘You know, one thing about the Balloon Dog is it’s this thing that has a lot to do with breath. It’s filled with human breath. But we’ve never actually seen the inside of one. What if we cut one open and we could see what was inside?’ And we just kind of looked at each other, like, ‘But what’s inside?’ And he said, ‘Whatever you want.’”What’s inside ended up being a sight gag that follows after Vulture lops off the head of a 12-foot-tall Balloon Dog, from which spill countless smaller Balloon Dog sculptures, satisfying the nagging suspicion that Koons’s outsize works are in fact elaborate piñatas. (The scene brought to mind an episode earlier this year, where a collector visiting the Art Wynwood fair in Miami accidentally shattered a 16-inch edition. The film was already well through production.)“It was moving to me,” Koons said on a phone call from Hydra, Greece, “because I always thought of the Balloon Dog as kind of a ritualistic work, something that could have a mythic quality to it, a little bit like a Trojan horse or Venus of Willendorf, where there would be some form of tribal community.” (His own balloon Venus did not seem to make the final cut.) Koons considered the Balloon Dog’s presence in the film as “truly participating in a larger community where people can rally around it.”Spider-Woman joining the fray during the Guggenheim battle. In our own universe, the Jeff Koons retrospective took place at the Whitney.Sony Pictures AnimationThe scene, which also features several of Koons’s earlier, stranger and less exposed works, like the polychromed wood sculpture “String of Puppies” (1988), from the “Banality” series, the stainless steel bust “Louis XIV” (1986), and several of his 1980s vacuum cleaner assemblages, is a homage to an artist who served as the original, if indirect, influence for the first “Spider-Verse” film’s direction. In 2014, while still in an early conceptual phase and at an impasse as to how to create a kind of postmodern version of the deathless hero, Phil Lord, a co-writer of the screenplay, and Christopher Miller, a producer, visited the Koons retrospective at the Whitney Museum. Lord has said the exhibition crystallized their thinking.“You could look at ‘The New,’ ‘Equilibrium,’ ‘Luxury & Degradation,’ ‘Antiquity,’ ‘Hulk Elvis,’ all different bodies of work that possibly seem like this kind of multiverse,” Koons offered. “Where you could have things existing at the same time but in different ways.”Whether the deep dive into Koons’s oeuvre resonates with casual viewers is another story. As the plot swings between slightly overbearing teen angst and extrapolations into quantum physics — itself an extended metaphor for the angst-inducing, open-ended possibilities of adolescence — the art in-jokes feel like a concession to adult aesthetes. (“I think it’s a Banksy” is a one-liner recycled from the first film, referring to something that looks nothing like a Banksy. Everyone laughed at the joke at the Upper West Side screening I attended, but not at the Koons stuff.)Spider-Man and Spider-Woman in a quiet moment. The film’s animated images often speed by at a dizzying clip.Sony Pictures AnimationThe idea that, in an alternative universe, Jeff Koons’s career booster took place at the Guggenheim instead of the Whitney is perhaps the most in-joke of them all, something even seasoned art-world insiders might not have fully appreciated. “There was a discussion for many years that I would have my retrospective at the Guggenheim — it never happened,” Koons told me. “So it was wonderful to see.”For his part, Koons gushed about the result: “I think the film is really astonishing, and I think culturally it’s playing a very important role for a whole generation of young people to inform them about the possibilities of perception.” He went on to say, “I never had seen richer colors — the reds are phenomenal!” Koons was born in ’55 and grew up on Disney. “There was a certain point in the ’70s maybe where we saw animation fall off,” he said, “and then with Pixar we saw this tremendous leap forward. The film uses that technology as a base but brings back a texture, really the texture of the senses. I mean, it’s like the way we perceive a Rembrandt or a Titian.”Asked if he was at all disturbed by seeing representations of his work obliterated by animated superheroes, Koons responded with Zen Buddhist diplomacy. “I care very much about the world. I care about living. I care about existence,” he said. “Everything turns to dust. The world around us turns to dust, universes turn to dust. What’s important is how we can enjoy the world that we’re in, and be able to have the perception of what our future can be. As an artist, it’s nice to feel in some way that the fine arts are able to participate within culture.” More

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      ‘Afire’ Review: His Flaws Are Petty, Pathetic and Funny

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      Christian Petzold’s new film, about a sour young writer and the woman he desires, generates both cruel comedy and heartbreak.The German filmmaker Christian Petzold’s spiky and at times mordantly funny “Afire” is a tonic for moviegoers tired of nice, squishable, likable, relatable dull and dull characters. It’s a look — for starters — at a splenetic young writer who, during a stay in the country, waits for his publisher to weigh in on his unfortunately titled second novel “Club Sandwich.” He frets that it’s no good, though his arrogance is sturdier and more consuming than his doubts. Yet while the writer is boorish, he’s never insipid; he’s pleasurably bad company.There’s far more to this lamentable creature as you learn, and would expect from Petzold. One of the most reliably interesting and surprising filmmakers working today, Petzold makes sharp, visually intelligent, psychologically sophisticated movies. He likes working in traditional genres that he bends to his own purposes while drawing on a range of cinematic traditions: classical Hollywood, the European art film, the avant-garde. He’s probably best known in the United States for “Barbara” (2012) and “Transit” (2019), atmospheric thrillers in which characters — one in East Germany, the other in a present-day Nazi-like limbo — seek to escape states of terror that are both apparatuses of power and conditions of being.“Afire” is lighter in tone and feeling. Petzold has said that, among other influences, he was inspired by the films of Éric Rohmer, as well as French and American coming-of-age stories set in summer. Yet he likes to mix it up, and “Afire” opens with a teasingly ominous sequence that finds the writer and a friend driving on a country road in a car that soon breaks down, leaving them stranded. By the time night falls, the tone has darkened, as have the surrounding woods, which now seems like a setting for one of those horror flicks in which nubile kids in cutoffs are sacrificed to the gods of cinema.The writer, Leon (Thomas Schubert), and his friend, Felix (Langston Uibel), make it relatively unscathed to their destination, a vacation home on Germany’s Baltic coast. Compact and inviting, the house is owned by Felix’s mother, and has two bedrooms and a leaky roof. There, the men will be alone while Leon waits for his publisher and Felix readies an art-school portfolio. When they arrive, though, they find that the mother has invited a third, a stranger to the men named Nadja (Paula Beer). She’s nowhere to be seen, but her traces — wine glasses on the table, discarded clothing on the floor — perfume the house.In time, a story of sorts emerges, though Petzold is less interested in creating a strong narrative here than he is in charting the complexities of character and the ties that bind and lash, create and destroy. The movie could be titled “The Portrait of the Artist as Young Douchebag,” to abusively borrow from Joyce’s autobiographical novel, though the movie is more snapshot than portrait. Largely set over a few days, it traces the emotional and psychological entanglements that emerge once the men meet Nadja, an initially indistinct, intriguingly elusive figure in red, one who Leon voyeuristically observes from afar.Petzold is a fast worker and within minutes of the movie opening, you know that Leon is a pill but also a bit ridiculous. In the first scene, when Felix asks if he hears a noise while they’re driving, Leon dismissively waves him off and cranks the music just before the engine dies. Soon, Leon is waving off Felix’s invitation to go to the beach, insisting that he has to work and that Felix should too, a pattern that continues. Instead, Leon glumly sits before his manuscript, squinting at the sun and swatting at flies, a monument to the epic narcissism that will isolate him, and generate both cruel comedy and heartbreak.Much of the movie takes place in and around the house, which is set in a pretty clearing ringed by trees. Petzold makes eloquent use of the space, turning the airy house into a stage and the grounds — and the pergola under which Leon works, though more often doesn’t — into a kind of arena. From his uncomfortable vantage, Leon watches as Felix, a sweet, open-faced man, busily comes and goes. Their friendship never feels persuasively grounded in any kind of history (love or even habit), and for the most part it registers as a screenwriting contrivance, even if Felix’s decency does sharply and regularly amplify Leon’s faults.Those flaws are manifold, pathetic and sometimes painful, though also wincingly comic. Playing a jerk might not sound difficult, but actors want to be loved, even when playing villains, which makes Schubert’s belligerent, insistently uncomfortable performance all the more impressive. There isn’t a drop of ingratiation in it. With his doughy body and his soft, spherical face — which is often bunched up in sour complaint — Leon can resemble an overgrown colicky (or gassy) baby. If dyspepsia were all there was to him there might not be much to the movie. But Leon has desire — perhaps for Nadja included — which makes him interesting to spend time with and certainly more so than he would be if you were sharing a summer house with him.Petzold complicates things further with two other characters, an affable lifeguard (Enno Trebs) and Leon’s publisher (Matthias Brandt). In flowing, naturalistic scenes, Petzold plots assorted human coordinates — friendship and romance, jealousy and enmity — that deepen the movie’s emotional register. Beds are shared, abandoned, swapped, and Leon grows close to Nadja, who, like Felix, feels too generous in her dealings with Leon to be fully convincing. But Beer is appealing and her character is a lovely idea, and so too is the hope, romantic and otherwise, that Nadja with her welcoming smile inspires, especially because a fire is fast-racing toward the house, threatening to engulf a world that is already smoldering.AfireNot Rated. In German, with subtitles. Running time: 1 hour 42 minutes. In theaters. More

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      ‘Final Cut’ Review: A Feeble Rise of the Living Dead

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      A remake of a Japanese zom-com, this French adaptation about the making of a B-level zombie flick does little to justify its existence.If you’re going to remake a film whose footprint is still fresh, you better make it your own if not significantly better. The French zom-com “Final Cut” does neither — the veteran filmmaker Michel Hazanavicius (“The Artist”) may have an Oscar, but his uninspired riff on the Japanese movie “One Cut of the Dead” (2019) has got nothing on the original’s ultra-low-budget charms.In “One Cut of the Dead,” a crew shooting a B-level zombie flick is attacked by the undead in a shaky single-take sequence that works despite its inexplicable pauses and blatantly phony severed limbs. We step into the making of the film-within-the-film, tracking the shoot from a chaotic behind-the-scenes perspective. The first half is fun, but the second half is golden, mining absurd humor, breathless tension, and movie-magic triumphalism from an onslaught of minor crises.Hazanavicius’s adaptation is an almost beat-for-beat copy: there’s an ax-wielding makeup artist played by an actress (Bérénice Bejo) who goes frighteningly Method; a blood-splatterd “final girl” (Matilda Lutz) who lobs off the head of her lover (Finnegan Oldfield); some all-too-realistic practical effects courtesy of a drunken, vomit-spewing castmate and another player seized by a bout of explosive diarrhea.Some tweaks account for Hazanavicius’s French translation, the most intriguing of which further deepen the plot’s metacinematic layers. “One Cut” exists within this world, too, with a Japanese cohort representing that film’s rights holders looming over the director Rémi (Romain Duris). There’s a long, fascinating history of Japanese and French cultural cross-pollination — and both countries are home to two of the oldest, most robust film industries in the world — but Hazanavicius works in the globalization of moviemaking only superficially, primarily through lazy culture-clash mockery: a Pearl Harbor joke here, a jab at the stereotypically poor French work ethic there.“Final Cut” puts its predecessor’s ingredients through an unflattering Instagram filter. The shoot’s intentional shoddiness — authentically kitschy in the original — rings false, with Hazanavicius spelling out the crew’s missteps in such a way that flattens the humor and kills the momentum.In France, to make a film about the making-of-a-film is practically a rite of passage (see François Truffaut’s “Day for Night,” Mia Hansen-Love’s “Bergman Island,” or “Olivier Assayas’s “Irma Vep”). With its metafictional bounties and playful genre bent, “One Cut” offers a conceit ripe for the picking. But what Hazanavicius has done here is a lifeless mock-up, a rehash made purely for audiences who’d prefer not to read Japanese subtitles. At least that’s some kind of justification for its existence.Final CutNot Rated. Running time: 1 hour 52 minutes. In theaters. More

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      ‘20 Days in Mariupol’ Review: Ukrainian City Under Siege

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      While the Ukrainian city was under siege by Russian forces, a team of journalists recorded the brutal war, resulting in this essential documentary.Everyone else was gone: the authorities, the aid workers, the other journalists too. One week into Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine in February 2022, the Associated Press video journalist Mstyslav Chernov was still in the port city of Mariupol, watching from a high floor of a hospital as a tank emblazoned with a white Z pulled up alongside. Smoke kept rising, bitter and black, from the shelled housing blocks a short distance away. There was no way out. Mariupol was surrounded now. Chernov kept his cameras rolling.“20 Days in Mariupol,” a relentless and truly important documentary, engulfs us in the initial ferocity of Russia’s siege of a city whose name has become a byword for this war’s inhumanity: My Lai, Srebrenica, Aleppo, Mariupol. The A.P. journalists were the last from an international news organization in the city, and for three weeks they documented pregnant women fleeing a bombed maternity hospital, the elderly and the displaced boiling snow to obtain fresh water, the freshly dug ditches where children’s corpses were laid to rest. The reporting would win Chernov, along with his colleagues Evgeniy Maloletka, Vasilisa Stepanenko and Lori Hinnant, this year’s Pulitzer Prize for public service, but because internet connections were sparse to absent in the city, Chernov could only transmit a small fraction of his footage during the siege. It all comes out in “20 Days in Mariupol,” in which the battle to survive in southeast Ukraine becomes entwined with the struggle to tell the world what’s happening.This film is very hard to watch, and so it should be, though its episodic structure makes it somewhat easier to endure: Day 1 through Day 20, one at a time, from the first bombs to the team’s flight to safety. On the morning of Feb. 24, Chernov and his colleagues head toward Mariupol, a city of half a million people on the Sea of Azov, and drive by Ukrainian military bases whose antiaircraft systems are burning — the first Russian targets, to prepare the path of their war planes. Many residents doubted the violence would reach Mariupol, and evacuation trains were leaving the city half-empty. Now we follow them into improvised shelters: a cold cellar, a CrossFit gym. “I don’t want to die,” says one young boy. “I wish it would all end soon.”But by Day 4 the fighter jets are overhead, and Chernov is stationed at one of Mariupol’s remaining open hospitals, about a mile from the front line on the edge of the city. He’s there when an ambulance rushes up, and paramedics perform C.P.R. on a 4-year-old girl named Evangelina, severely injured after a Russian shell landed near her home. The medics race her to the modest emergency room, where her blood pools on the floor as they try, and fail, to resuscitate her. (Chernov blurs out her face here, though The A.P. published uncensored images at the time.) “Keep filming,” the head doctor insists — and a minute later, we see the same footage of the doctors at work in grainy reproduction on an MSNBC broadcast and Britain’s ITV News.This blending of high- and low-resolution video registers is a critical tool of Chernov and his editor, Michelle Mizner of “Frontline,” who in many chapters of “20 Days in Mariupol” suture together three kinds of imagery. First comes drone footage of the city — its Khrushchev-era housing blocks, its huge Azovstal steel plant — whose devastation becomes more visible as winter passes to spring. Then follows unique documentation of the war’s early atrocities, shot on high-definition video, but often askew or rocky as Chernov runs after a hospital gurney or flees from the aim of snipers. Finally, at the end of many days, the footage repeats as broadcasts on CBS News, France 24, Deutsche Welle and other AP clients.Even if they feel a touch self-congratulatory, these rebroadcasts underscore two things: the rarity of Chernov’s footage, and the immense challenge of getting it out of Mariupol. The port city’s internet is basically gone by Day 11, when the Russians blockade it from all three sides, and the A.P. journalists risk their lives to hunt for wireless connections after curfew. And there is the matter of Chernov’s nationality. Though he has covered wars in the Middle East and Southeast Asia, he is a native of Kharkiv, Ukraine, and as he whispers at the start of the film, “I have no illusions about what will happen to us if we are caught.”Day 20 comes, and with it a harrowing drive past a dozen Russian checkpoints, with the journalists hiding cameras and hard drives under the seats. One day later, on March 16, 2022, Russian forces bomb the city’s Drama Theater, where hundreds of adults and children have taken shelter. This documentary is more, therefore, than a unique record of particular crimes; it’s a synecdoche for a much larger atrocity, and a model of how we discover the larger truth of war in images of one hospital, one grave, one child.“With every new war, the ethics of war photography are debated again,” regretted the Ukrainian art historian Kateryna Iakovlenko in a recent essay on our self-serving doubt of depictions of horror, made acuter through Russia’s parallel disinformation campaigns. The only moral question before us is whether we take these images seriously, or whether, with a skepticism also known as cowardice, we turn away.20 Days in MariupolNot Rated. Running time: 1 hour 35 minutes. In theaters. More

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      ‘The Five Demands’ Review: Occupying a College for Racial Justice

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      In the wake of the Supreme Court’s decision on affirmative action, a documentary recalls the occupation of City College 50 years ago.Among the wave of student protests that occurred across American university campuses in the late 1960s, the student occupation of The City College of New York in April 1969 was a highly local yet pivotal act of civil disobedience. The more than 200 Black and Puerto Rican students who occupied the buildings on South Campus for two weeks did so in protest of the school’s admissions policy and the lack of diversity in its student body. At a time when 40 percent of New York City’s high school graduates were Black or Latino, the film reports, only 9 percent of City College attendees were part of those communities. “The Five Demands,” a new documentary from Greta Schiller and Andrea Weiss, returns to the campus 50 years later alongside former students, now in their late 60s and 70s, who participated in the protests.In interviews, City College alumni who were recruited through the college’s SEEK program (Search for Education, Elevation and Knowledge) recall being underprepared in their education and made to feel like tokens who didn’t belong there by their white peers. And indeed, the “five demands” central to the occupation largely revolved not only around making efforts to admit more students of color, but also to provide them with adequate support once they were enrolled — a commitment that many elite colleges and universities still struggle with to this day.In the wake of the recent Supreme Court decision that rejected affirmative action, the film feels eerily timely. Schiller and Weiss’s direction is utilitarian, cutting together talking-head interviews with montages of the occupation set to era-appropriate protest songs. But to its credit, the lack of flashiness puts the students’ struggles for racial justice front and center, and ultimately serves to highlight a less-remembered aspect of the countercultural student movement.The Five DemandsNot Rated. Running time: 1 hour 14 minutes. In theaters. More