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Mary Badham, Who Starred in 'Mockingbird' Film, Joins Broadway Tour
Six decades after she played Scout in the film version of “To Kill a Mockingbird,” Mary Badham takes on the role of a neighbor in the play’s national tour.Mary Badham describes herself as “just a retired old lady who likes to be in her garden and play with her grandkids.”But in 1962 she was a child star, captivating the nation with her Oscar-nominated portrayal of Scout, the daughter of Atticus Finch, in the film version of “To Kill a Mockingbird.”Now, six decades and many careers later, she is helping to dramatize the story once again, this time from a different vantage point. Badham, who has not previously worked as a stage actor, is now in rehearsals for a national tour of the “Mockingbird” Broadway production in which she will play Mrs. Dubose, Scout’s mean, and morphine-addicted, neighbor.“I’m going full circle,” Badham said in an interview. “This is something I never contemplated.”Badham, now 69, is still a little hazy on how this happened. She says she got a call out of the blue from the production, inviting her to audition. The play’s director, Bartlett Sher, said Badham’s name had come up during brainstorming for the tour, and that the casting team had tracked her down; he said as soon as he saw her do a workshop, he knew she could do it.In the 1962 film, Badham was 10 years old when she played Scout opposite Gregory Peck as Atticus Finch.Silver Screen Collection/Getty Images“She has not been on a stage, and that was a big adjustment for her, but she’s going to be great — she has a bright, blazing intelligence, and good listening and sharp delivery and all the things you need as a great actor,” Sher said. “And it was incredibly fascinating — I have never had an experience quite like it, to have this voice from the cultural history of the very work we were doing, and to see how we’ve changed and how she’s changed. It was beautiful to have her in the room.”Badham has always been a bit of an accidental actor. She had no experience when a talent scout showed up in Birmingham, Ala., where she lived, looking for a Southern girl to star as Scout in the film adaptation of Harper Lee’s Pulitzer Prize-winning 1960 novel about a white Alabama lawyer — Finch — who agrees to represent a Black man accused of rape. Badham’s mother performed in local theater, and her brother (who became a film director) was in drama school; she aced a screen test, and before she knew it, she was off to California, performing alongside the actor Gregory Peck, who became an important mentor and friend.“I had no idea what was going on — I was just out there playing,” she said. “I don’t even think we got complete scripts, because there were certain words and things that were deemed unseemly for children to hear. I did not have a clue what the film was about until we started going to premieres, and then all of us were in tears.”In the decades since, Badham has worked selling cosmetics, became a certified nursing assistant, and even occasionally appeared on film and television. She never became a large animal veterinarian — her childhood aspiration — but, along with her husband and two children, she did make a Virginia farm her home. “I always wanted to live on a farm and have horses and animals, and we’ve had that through the years,” she said.“I’m not an actor,” she added. “Acting is something that has just happened to me.”She said she has a hard time watching the film “because all my friends are gone now — there’s only a few of us left.” But she usually says yes when given new “Mockingbird” opportunities; she has spent decades talking about the story at schools, universities and social clubs. “‘Mockingbird’ has been my life,” she said.“It’s just weird, and I put it to the man upstairs — I just feel like he has something he wants me to say, and he picked me to say it and keep saying it,” she added. “My job has been basically to keep this story alive, and have people talk about it, so we can try to move forward with all of these problems that we still have.”And what is the message of “Mockingbird”? “We should try to learn to love each other and be good people,” she said.“‘Mockingbird’ has been my life,” Badham said. Tonje Thilesen for The New York TimesThe show’s tour, led by Richard Thomas as Atticus and Melanie Moore as Scout, begins performances on March 27 in Buffalo and opens on April 5 in Boston, followed by runs around the country. This adaptation, written by Aaron Sorkin, opened on Broadway in 2018, had an enormously successful run before the pandemic and sold strongly again when Jeff Daniels returned to lead the cast as Atticus Finch. As Daniels departed and the Omicron variant surged, the show announced it was taking a nearly six-month hiatus, with a planned resumption in a smaller theater on June 1. A London production is scheduled to begin performances on Thursday.Badham said she agonized over whether to play Mrs. Dubose, because the character uses racist language to describe Black people. “I had a real problem with accepting this role, because I have to use the N-word, and I have to be this horrible, bigoted, racist person,” she said. “I went to my African American friends, and said, ‘Do I want to walk around in the skin of this awful old lady?’ And they were like, ‘This is important. This is part of the story. You have to go out there and make her as mean as you can, and show what it was really like.’”Badham also said she believes that the character of Mrs. Dubose, as a morphine addict, is important at a time when many Americans are struggling with opioid addictions. “That gives me another facet of the story to concentrate on,” she said.After a few weeks of rehearsal, she said she is feeling more comfortable.“It’s scary — I’ll tell you point blank, I’m mortally terrified every time I have to open my mouth, and I had no idea I was going to be onstage so much,” she said.But, she said, she can feel the presence of others who have told the story before, and that strengthens her. “I feel like they’re with us, supporting us,” she said, “because they know this needs to be said.” More
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Russian Filmmakers and Other Artists Face Boycotts Over Ukraine
A Russian moviemaker with Ukrainian roots and relatives in Kyiv denounced the war. The Glasgow Film Festival dropped his film anyway.The Russian filmmaker Kirill Sokolov has spent the past week distraught at the horror unfolding in Ukraine. Half his family is Ukrainian, he said in a telephone interview, and as a child he spent summers there, staying with his grandparents.His maternal grandmother was still living in Kyiv, he said, “hiding from bombs in a bunker.”Since Russia’s invasion began, Mr. Sokolov said he had signed two online petitions calling for an end to the war, an act that carries a risk in Russia, where thousands have been arrested for protesting the conflict, and some have reportedly lost their jobs.Yet despite his antiwar stance, Mr. Sokolov on Monday learned that the Glasgow Film Festival in Scotland had dropped his latest movie, “No Looking Back.”A spokeswoman for the festival said in an email that Mr. Sokolov’s film — a comedy about a mother and daughter trying to kill each other — had received Russian state funding. The decision to exclude the movie was not a reflection on the filmmaker himself, she said, but it would be “inappropriate to proceed as normal with the screenings while the assault on the Ukrainian people continues.”As the war in Ukraine enters its second week, cultural institutions worldwide are grappling with the question of whether to boycott Russian artists, in debates reminiscent of those around South Africa during the apartheid era, and calls by musicians, writers and artists to shun Israel in support of the Palestinian people.Kirill Sokolov at a 2021 Moscow event for Russian filmmakers seeking state funding for their projects.Mikhail Tereshchenko/TASS, via Getty ImagesMost attention has so far focused on figures close to President Vladimir V. Putin of Russia, including the conductor Valery Gergiev and the diva Anna Netrebko, both of whom lost engagements at concert halls and opera houses this week. On Tuesday, the Munich Philharmonic fired Mr. Gergiev as its chief conductor.But measures are also being taken against Russians with no apparent ties to their leader. In Britain — where a government minister this week published an opinion essay calling culture “the third front in the Ukrainian war” — a Russian state ballet company from Siberia and an opera troupe had multiple performances canceled.On Monday, the Glasgow Film Festival also dropped “The Execution,” by Lado Kvataniya, a Russian director whose work has been censored in Russia and who last week posted online about his opposition to both the war and Mr. Putin. (A representative for Mr. Kvataniya declined to comment for this article.)Festival organizers and movie executives have been considering protest actions since shortly after Russia’s invasion last week, when the Ukrainian Film Academy launched an online petition calling “for a boycott of Russian cinematography.”The petition, which had over 8,200 signatures on Friday, says screenings of Russian movies at festivals create “the illusion of Russia’s involvement in the values of the civilized world.” It also urged distributors not to work in Russia. Several Hollywood studios, including Disney, have paused releases there, and a Netflix spokeswoman said Friday that the streaming service had halted all future projects in Russia, including acquisitions.Mr. Sokolov, the Russian director, said he accepted the Glasgow festival’s decision, though he found it “really strange.” Many Russian filmmakers are critical of Russian society and politics, he said; if festivals outside Russia stop showing their work, “it’s like they shut our voice down,” he added.“Probably 99 percent of Russian movies” receive funding from the Russian state, Mr. Sokolov said. “It’s very difficult to make a movie here without government sponsorship.” That includes many that are veiled — or even unveiled — critiques of life under Mr. Putin.Several small film festivals have acted on the Ukraine Film Academy’s call, including the Black Nights Film Festival in Estonia and the Vilnius International Film Festival in Lithuania, which on Monday dropped five movies from its program. One of them is the award-winning “Compartment No. 6,” by the Finnish director Juho Kuosmanen, which also received Russian funding. Mr. Kuosmanen said in a telephone interview that he accepted state investment in his Russia-set movie to ease bureaucratic difficulties. He understood the festival’s decision, and said he was “happy if my movie can be used in this fight.”The Cannes Film Festival said it would ban official Russian delegations, but would accept movies from Russian filmmakers.Pool photo by Kate GreenThe world’s largest film festivals are taking a different tack. On Tuesday, the Cannes Film Festival in France said in a statement that it would no longer “welcome official Russian delegations, nor accept the presence of anyone linked to the Russian government.” This would mean Russia’s film agency could no longer have a pavilion at the event in which to host parties and receptions. A Cannes spokeswoman said in an email that this would not mean a ban on Russian filmmakers.On Wednesday, the Venice Film Festival followed, saying it would not accept “persons tied in any capacity to the Russian government” at its events. It added that it would welcome “those who oppose the current regime in Russia.”Russia-Ukraine War: Key Things to KnowCard 1 of 4A humanitarian crisis. More
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With ‘Lucy and Desi,’ Amy Poehler Gets to the Heart of a Marriage
The performer and director wanted to deliver a down-to-earth portrayal of a couple whose union was far from perfect, even if viewers wouldn’t accept that.Near the beginning of the new Amy Poehler-directed documentary, “Lucy and Desi,” an audio recording plays. In it, Lucille Ball thanks her husband, Desi Arnaz, for her two beautiful, healthy children. That’s not exactly a shocking statement coming from a woman in 1950s America. What’s surprising is that Ball finishes by thanking her husband for her “freedom.” It’s one of many moments in the film that might cause those who think they know the story of these stars, and this couple, to lean in a little closer.For Poehler, also an actor and comedian whose professional and personal lives are subjected to the occasional tabloid treatment, Ball’s striking admission was one of many revelations that inspired her to look deeper into the relationship of one of Hollywood’s most recognizable couples. Partly because of the enduring popularity of “I Love Lucy,” Ball and Arnaz, who played the married Lucy and Ricky Ricardo, came to represent a particular brand of loving, married couple for generations of audiences. Like many marriages, though, their partnership was far from perfect.When Poehler was approached by the production companies Imagine Entertainment and White Horse Pictures about making a documentary about Ball and Arnaz, she knew she didn’t want to make a film where “funny people talk about how funny everyone is” but instead to speak to people who actually knew one or both of them — like their children, Lucie Arnaz and Desi Arnaz Jr., or Carol Burnett or Bette Midler. Poehler didn’t want to portray Ball as a genius, but as a very real woman whose 20-year marriage was at once complex, loving, painful and tender.During a recent phone call while she was walking through New York, Poehler discussed the ways Ball and Arnaz broke barriers, shaped culture and proved that a marriage doesn’t have to be last forever to be successful. These are edited excerpts from our conversation.When Lucy thanks her husband for her children and her “freedom,” it’s striking. What was your reaction when you heard that?What to Know About ‘Being the Ricardos’The Aaron Sorkin-directed dramedy looks at one very bad week for Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz, played by Nicole Kidman and Javier Bardem.Review: The not-so-funny side of the “I Love Lucy” stars is the focus of Sorkin’s lively, chatty, somewhat odd and insistently depoliticized biopic.‘Funny’s Hard’: Nicole Kidman said that comedies do not come easily to her. Here’s how she learned to love playing Lucille Ball.Remembering Lucille: How does Nicole Kidman’s Lucy compare to the real Lucille Ball? A writer recalls his first disorienting meeting with the comedian.Best-Picture Race: Our columnist thinks “Being the Ricardos” is among six contenders with the strongest chances to win the Oscar.I didn’t expect that word. I don’t know exactly what she meant, but I like to think she meant she was able to have financial freedom. A woman over 40 and a Cuban American immigrant and refugee were not often the people in the room when the deals happened, and so for her, financial freedom was huge. She grew up with scarcity, and Desi had a privileged life in Cuba and went through a traumatic experience of losing everything and having to escape his own country. So they both cared about work and providing for their family. I think that freedom came from a kind of security. I also think they loved each other for who they were.Did you have any reservations about taking on the project?I was trying to figure out, as a filmmaker, what would be my way in and my point of view. I do find that with people this famous and accomplished, you hear words like “pioneer” or “genius” a lot and it’s like … OK. There have been so many tributes already. I was excited when I talked to White Horse and Imagine, and I basically said there are a couple of things I want to try to avoid. One was to spend the whole movie having funny people talk about how funny everyone is. I wanted to try to bring them back down to earth. Then I figured out that the love story is really the thing that, hopefully, keeps people watching.Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz at their studio, as seen in the new documentary. Leonard Mccombe/The LIFE Picture Collection, Shutterstock, via Amazon StudiosThe footage and tapes you had access to were so intimate, and many had never been seen or heard by the public. How much archival audio did you have access to?It was hours and hours of stuff. One of our producers was at [Ball’s daughter] Lucie’s house, and she pointed to a box, like, “What’s in that one?” It was very much a genie-in-the-bottle moment, finding all these audiotapes. When you’re doing a documentary, you realize that you and your editor [Robert Martinez, whose credits include “The Bee Gees: How Can You Mend a Broken Heart”] are like two people on a life raft. There was so much material, and that was by far the most overwhelming thing. Once we made the decision to hear Lucy and Desi tell us their story [via the recordings], everything changed, because not only did it make them feel alive and human, but we were able to age them as the film went on. Even though I strongly believe that most people are unreliable narrators, I think you learn a lot from what people don’t say, and it’s just as important as what they do say. I was always very moved by how they spoke about each other.The film gives you the sense that on one hand, they’re upholding this very 1950s version of happily ever after, but that off camera, at least later in the marriage, they struggled. It’s sometimes hard to reconcile that with the Lucy and Ricky we see on television.Television is an intimate medium that you often watch with your family, and they were the early inventors of the idea of rupture and repair, which is, maybe Lucy baked too much bread or Ricky forgot her birthday or whatever it is, and you think there’s no way they’re going to fix it, and they fix it at the end and everything’s fine. There’s a deep longing, especially in postwar America at the time, of thinking: “Can things be fixed? Are we going to be OK? Is the family going to stay together?” And what was really exciting to me is they were experiencing very human, complicated things that most people feel with success and marriage. You know, all the things that happen in a human life.Did you have discussions with the producers or your editor about their marriage or about why their relationship might resonate with modern audiences?Yeah, we really tried to deconstruct the idea of a partnership and ask questions about what makes a successful marriage. What Lucy and Desi do in their lives is they work very hard on themselves and their craft. They create this beautiful music together. And they go on to continue to create separately, respecting each other and finding ways to work together. So there’s always that question of, what is a successful partnership? Their marriage ends, but they co-parent and find new love. I loved talking to Laura LaPlaca [director of the Carl Reiner Department of Archives and Preservation at the National Comedy Center] because she said that America just didn’t accept their divorce. America was just like, nope. But they showed what it was like to get divorced and show respect for each other. They were blazing a trail. You know, if I had had the privilege to speak to either one of them, they probably would have just been living their human, complicated lives. They weren’t trying to do any of that.Desi passed away in 1986. Their daughter Lucie tells a moving story about bringing them together to watch old episodes of “I Love Lucy,” which, in a way, is a little bit of a happily ever after, but very bittersweet. What did that story mean for you, and what do you think it says about their marriage and that notion of happily ever after?Lucy said that after they divorced, they became a lot kinder to each other. As a culture, we’re obsessed with “till death do you part.” But don’t you want the goal to be that on your death bed, you can tell people you love them? Is the goal to have an unhappy, decades-long marriage, or is the goal to come together in partnership to create interesting stuff together and to stay full of love and respect for each other? Lucy and Desi worked really hard, and when given the opportunity, they held hands and they jumped. It just feels like they were astronauts. More
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Akaash Singh and His Case for Bringing Back Apu
The stand-up comic, whose special has gone viral, takes issue with how some South Asians like Hari Kondabolu portray their experience in the United States.When “The Simpsons” stopped using the Indian convenience store owner Apu in new episodes, many saw it as a hard-won victory against cultural stereotypes. The Indian American comic Akaash Singh was not one of them. In fact, he was upset about it — and as stand-ups do, he brought that onstage.“Here is a brown man married to a beautiful brown woman, owns his own business, selling overpriced products to unwitting white people,” he said, building momentum at the start of his 20-minute debut special, “Bring Back Apu,” released on YouTube a month ago. “Apu is not racist. He’s the American dream.”Singh, 38, hit a nerve, racking up one million views in a week. (It’s now approaching 1.5 million.) The special never mentions the comic Hari Kondabolu by name, but it is a response to a public conversation kicked off by his cutting critiques of “The Simpsons,” which did more than anything else to lead to the removal of the character. Kondabolu started criticizing Apu on late-night television in 2012 and, five years later, built it into a documentary, “The Problem With Apu,” fleshing out the argument that Apu was a modern-day minstrel figure. After avoiding the issue for a while, Hank Azaria, the white actor who voiced Apu for decades, apologized and refused to play the character.Even a decade ago, there were few South Asian voices getting attention in mainstream American comedy. Not only are there more now, but there are enough to reflect sharp divides among them. In a 2019 special, Aziz Ansari mocked the fact that Apu being played by a white person was only lately becoming controversial. “Why didn’t anyone say anything 30 years ago?” he asked, then answered his own question. “Because Indian people could only say something like four years ago, OK? We’ve had a slow rise in the culture.”Singh and Kondabolu have a lot in common: both comics are around the same age; both passionately cite their parents in their arguments about Apu and believe that representation matters. “The Simpsons” was important to Singh, he told me, in part because it was the only show of his childhood to portray a happy, loving Indian couple.What he saw onscreen as a boy “was always an Indian guy who can’t get a girl to save his life or an Indian girl who is supposed to marry an Indian guy but falls in love with someone else,” he said in an interview at Alice’s Tea Cup on the Upper West Side. “With Apu, finally there was one. It was an arranged marriage and he was in love with her. Arranged marriages where people are in love happen. A lot of Indian people I know.”Kondabolu did not respond to a request for an interview. But in a recent conversation with the author Wajahat Ali at the Bell House in Brooklyn, Kondabolu was asked how he responded to South Asians who were unhappy about the loss of Apu. He said that while of course Apu had positive characteristics, the source of the comedy, the reason people laughed, was the accent. As he put it in his documentary, that is “a white guy doing an impression of a white guy making fun of my father.”Singh said that he wasn’t necessarily offended by comic accents and even thought Azaria did a better one than most “brown comics I know.” But he added that the accent shouldn’t outweigh the rest of the character. “A lot of my brown acting friends refuse to do a role that has an accent. I don’t understand that,” he said. “Your parents have that accent. That accent is beautiful. My issue is: What are the jokes behind that accent?”When Singh evokes the immigrant generation in his special, it is to soberly lament the loss of their values. He contrasts the South Asians who talk about the racism of “The Simpsons” with the self-reliance of the older generation. “I don’t remember being raised on this stuff by our parents,” he told me. “The mentality everyone I knew had was keep your head down, do the work, everything will work out.”He said he was angry in part because “the industry seemed to reward these stories.” He added pointedly that South Asians in America were not oppressed the way Black people or homosexuals have been. “This is a struggle that you are using to get ahead,” he said about his peers, “but it’s not a real struggle.”There’s something decidedly old-fashioned about Singh’s argument. He’s a comic proud to tell you that he doesn’t drink or do drugs and that he waited to have sex until his 30s, with the woman who became his wife. He also said he might be out of touch, which is why he brings up on his special that he’s from the 1990s. But there is an audience for this kind of comic attack on progressive critiques, one that comedians have been exploiting onstage and in podcasts. Joe Rogan is the most notorious example, but there is a constellation of popular podcasts around him, including Flagrant 2, with Andrew Schulz and Singh as hosts.Singh heatedly balked when I suggested he was part of an “anti-woke” comedy scene. He described himself as a moderate who leans left, but conceded that he spent more time mocking progressives on his podcast. Then again, in reaction to Senator Ted Cruz tweeting out a link to the Apu special, Singh said “I hate him,” noting that his parents had no running water or heat around the time of the power crisis in Texas when Cruz fled to Cancun.Growing up in Dallas, Singh said, and being surrounded by loud Texas conservatives pushed him to be a liberal; after moving to New York in 2008 to pursue comedy, those on the left pushed him in the opposite direction. When I ask if he ever worried about only being reactive, he brushed off the question, saying that is essential to his comedy. Singh is open about how liberal politics can be a good foil. When he appeared on Rogan’s podcast, he defended “woke” people. “Without them,” he asked the host, “what are we?”Singh said he even dabbled in what he described as victimhood in 2018, when he said he was going broke. “I tried to sell a special that had a little bit of that, a little sob story,” he said. “It was about going to India and connecting with my culture. It’s in the same vein of white people going, ‘This is so authentic.’ It didn’t work.”“Bring Back Apu” did. Singh said he recently sold out a 500-seat show at the Irvine Improv in Southern California.Singh is quick to compliment Kondabolu, who he said reached out to him after hearing him on a podcast. “He said I implied he didn’t work hard and I said I don’t think that at all,” Singh said, praising Kondabolu’s joke writing and work ethic. “My issue is with your mentality,” Singh said he told his fellow comic. “The victimhood mentality. The mentality weakens us as a people.”“There’s merit to both sides,” Singh said. “I’m not completely right, as much as I would love to be.” More
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With 'After Yang,' Kogonada Explores What It Means to Be Alive
Kogonada, whose new film is the futuristic A.I. drama “After Yang,” reflects on the nature of his work, and of existence.Kogonada distinctly remembers the first time the specter of nonexistence dawned upon him. He was alone in his room, and it was a weekend.“I suddenly just thought, I haven’t always been here — what did it feel like before I was born?” the filmmaker recalled recently at a park in the Baldwin Hills section of Los Angeles. A terrifying wave washed over him with the realization that “whatever that is, I will have that again.” Kogonada ran into his father’s room, teary-eyed. He was, he estimated, in third grade.That existential confrontation is in some ways at the root of “After Yang,” the melancholic, soulful sophomore feature from the sometimes cryptic filmmaker. The movie, adapted from a short story by Alexander Weinstein, follows a family in a sci-fi future as they grapple with the strangely affecting loss of their humanlike robot, Yang (Justin H. Min), who acts as a “second sibling” and suddenly shuts off one day.“Once you’re turned on, then you know that you can be turned off — that’s just the crisis of being,” Kogonada said. “What does it mean for that moment that you are, and what does it mean when you’re no longer?” Looking over a picturesque green valley dotted with trees, Kogonada noted, “If there’s anything that has haunted me even to this day, it is absence.”This kind of questioning has been the through line to a life whose contours he is reluctant to fill in. His very name, Kogonada, is a pseudonym cribbed from the screenwriter Kogo Noda, who frequently collaborated with one of Kogonada’s greatest inspirations, the director and screenwriter Yasujiro Ozu. He adopted the name when he started making video essays in the mid-2010s analyzing the form of cinema. Around that time, he had abandoned a Ph.D. on Ozu and felt dissatisfied with the documentaries and branded content he was making while living in Nashville. His video essays, championed among cinephiles, drew one Hollywood connection that allowed him to pass along the script for what became his debut feature, “Columbus.”Justin H. Min and Haley Lu Richardson in “After Yang.”Linda Kallerus/A24Beyond that arc and a basic outline of his life — immigrating with his family from South Korea as a child, growing up in Indiana and Chicago, and now living in Los Angeles with his wife and two children — Kogonada politely edged around details. His reticence is not an output of some manufactured mystique — most of his biography is rather boring, he said — but instead a mixture of neuroses about privacy, the freeing feeling of creating under a constructed identity and the fear of being flattened by a neat definition of who he is.Kogonada has always found his own identity to be elusive, and he is wary of the idea of full understanding. It’s an uneasiness that is perhaps unsurprising coming from someone who has made a habit of interrogating things he ultimately realized are ineffable. To spend a day with him is to trod softly and curiously down philosophical rabbit holes: the meaning of place, the history of the number zero, what it means exactly to be Asian, what comes after death.“He’s just an extremely humbly curious human being,” said the actress Haley Lu Richardson, who stars in both “After Yang” and “Columbus.” (She laughed almost maniacally at the question of whether she might know his actual name, while revealing nothing.) “There’s also no ego to him.” Indeed, the filmmaker is often worried about sounding too elliptical or guru-like as he muses on abstract questions.“I don’t get the sense that he is searching for any definitive answer to what the meaning of life is, but I think he is consumed by the questions of meaning,” said the actor Colin Farrell, who stars as Jake, the protagonist in “After Yang.” He added, “In 45 years of being on this planet, I’m not sure if I’ve ever met anyone who is more thoughtful and kinder and has more depth.”As a conduit for Kogonada’s searching nature, “After Yang” is a sci-fi film in which, unlike others with a similar A.I.-centered premise, “the existential crisis is the human being,” the filmmaker noted.“Why do we always imagine that an artificial being would want to be human?” Kogonada said, referring to a typical sci-fi trope. “Isn’t being a human hard? Because you don’t understand why we even came into existence.”John Cho and Parker Posey in Kogonada’s debut feature, “Columbus.”Elisha Christian/Superlative Films, Depth of FieldThe film is intensely personal in how it contends with Kogonada’s lifelong questions around nonexistence, and, in exploring Yang’s unique kind of death, the film prods conversely at what it means to be alive. As Jake tries to get Yang fixed, he uncovers a memory bank storing blip-like snapshots of life that Yang found worth remembering: his family laughing, the rain-soaked forest ground, the peel of a tangerine, sunlight falling on a wall.“We have a lot of language for this crisis that we are having right now where more people are bored than ever, and more people are feeling depressed and meaningless than ever,” Kogonada said. Yet “we have so much more access to things that feel fun and distracting.” He brought up a brief history of the word “boredom,” and how it is now used to evade the silence and weight of feeling existence, “so that we don’t have to confront the very feeling that might be everything to us,” he said. “If we could stay in it and see it, maybe this thing that we see everyday, which is sun coming and casting a shadow, can provide something for us.”Kogonada doubled back, laughing at himself — he’s not claiming this is necessarily the key to life. But, instead of the concrete answers to enlightenment he yearned for in his younger days, searching in religion and in cinema, he’s come to gravitate more toward finding meaning and mystery in everyday life, in experience that is inclusive and accessible to everyone.In “After Yang,” Yang’s mundane memories prompt Jake to confront his absence in his own life. “It’s both a grieving for Yang but also a grieving for time lost,” Kogonada said, adding, “maybe all grieving is about lost time.”Staring out across a pond shimmering in the afternoon sun, Kogonada said he would have to make peace with the increased attention that would inevitably come with this film, which, along with the four episodes he directed of the upcoming Apple TV+ series “Pachinko,” might be seen as an establishing moment for him as an auteur. Ironically, this period as an artist under an alias is the closest he has ever felt to being himself.As for that primal fear of absence, Kogonada is more secure than ever. In a flashback scene, Yang tells his mother, Kyra (Jodie Turner-Smith), about a quote from the philosopher Lao-tzu. “What the caterpillar calls the end,” he recites, “the rest of the world calls a butterfly.”“I don’t know if I need the comfort of something existing afterwards,” Kogonada said, echoing a line that Yang says in the scene. “Whatever nothing or absence may be, there’s something that I have far less fear about, and I can almost feel comfort in it.” He thought again. “Maybe that nothing is actually the seeds of something else. Maybe it’s something, nothing, something again.” More
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'Great Freedom': Film Traces Long Shadow of Anti-Gay Law in Germany
A new film traces the many decades it took to abolish Paragraph 175, a measure criminalizing sex between men that was strengthened by the Nazis.BERLIN — A turning point arrives for Viktor and Hans, the central characters in the new film “Great Freedom,” when Viktor sees the concentration camp tattoo on Hans’s arm.It’s 1945, and Viktor has already forcibly thrown Hans out of the cell they share in a German prison after learning that Hans was jailed for having sex with men. But when Viktor, an ice block of a man with a murder conviction, discovers the tattooed number, he offers to give Hans a new design to cover up the past.“They put you from a concentration camp into the slammer? Seriously?” Victor (Georg Friedrich) stammers in disbelief, more to himself than to Hans (Franz Rogowski).The fictional character of Hans, liberated from a Nazi concentration camp at the end of World War II only to be sent directly to prison, is based on a chilling and often overlooked chapter in German postwar history.Hans is repeatedly arrested under Paragraph 175, a law criminalizing sex between men that the Nazis expanded just a couple of years into their regime, and which was kept on the books for decades after.The law was used, sometimes with elaborate sting operations, to convict up to 50,000 gay men in West Germany between 1945 and 1994 — roughly as many as were arrested during the decade in which the Nazis used it.“For gay men, the Nazi era did not end in 1945,” said Peter Rehberg, the archivist of Schwules Museum, a gay cultural institution in Berlin.When Sebastian Meise, the director of “Great Freedom,” read about the men who went from the concentration camps to prison because of their sexuality, it “really changed my understanding of history,” he said in a telephone interview from Vienna. The discovery set him off on an eight-year project that resulted in “Great Freedom,” which was Austria’s submission to the international feature category at this year’s Oscars.Modern Germany has been praised for its efforts to keep the dreadful memory of the Holocaust present for the generations born after what Hannah Arendt called the “break in civilization.” The Nazi era is a mandatory part of school history curriculums, for example, and many schoolchildren and police cadets are obliged to visit former concentration camps. But for many decades, postwar Germany’s treatment of gay men was also neither liberal nor progressive.In 1935, the Nazis strengthened Germany’s law criminalizing homosexuality, which was originally introduced in the 1870s. This allowed the regime to criminalize not just gay sex, but almost any behavior that could be seen to run afoul of heterosexual norms, including looking at another man. While East Germany had a slightly less restrictive version on its books, West Germany kept the strict Nazi legislation until 1969, when it was first reformed.Peter Bermbach at his home in Paris. He left West Germany in 1960 after being imprisoned under Paragraph 175. Elliott Verdier for The New York TimesFor West Germans like Peter Bermbach, Paragraph 175 cast a long shadow over the postwar decades.In his senior year of high school in West Germany in the late 1940s, he was overheard turning down a date with another boy. School officials did not just suspend him, they also reported him to the police.“It was the typical German sense of order and justice of the time,” said Bermbach, now 90, in a telephone interview.The second time, he didn’t get off as easily. At 29, with a Ph.D. and a job in a publishing house, he was caught putting his arm around a 17-year-old at a public pool. Bermbach spent four weeks in jail and was fined 5,000 marks — a hefty sum at the time.After he paid off the fine, he became one of the thousands of gay and bisexual men who fled Paragraph 175. He moved to Paris in 1960 in search of more freedoms.Meise and his writing partner Thomas Reider collected many stories from Bermbach’s generation of gay men during the six years they spent researching and writing the script for “Great Freedom,” visiting the archives at the Schwules Museum and the Magnus Hirschfeld Foundation, which collects interviews with men affected by the law.Still, Paragraph 175 did not stop gay culture from evolving in Western Germany; the German title of the film, “Grosse Freiheit,” is a nod to a venerable gay bar in Berlin where the penultimate scene takes place. But it did push many aspects of gay life underground, according to Klaus Schumann, 84. He remembered Berlin police pulling up in large vans in front of bars known to be gay hot spots in the late ’40s and ’50s. No one was criminally charged, he said, but everyone, including staff, were taken to the local police station to to be identified.“It was basically a way to keep control over people,” Schuman said.Hans (Franz Rogowski) first arrives at the prison in 1945 after being held in a Nazi concentration camp.MUBI“Great Freedom” traces Hans’s many stints behind bars, where he was labeled a “175,” jumping between 1945 and 1969. To help mark that time shift, Rogowski lost more than 25 pounds during filming, to make himself appear younger (the later scenes were filmed first). Shooting in an abandoned prison close to Magdeburg in the former East Germany, Meise captures the slow course of incarcerated time, as well as social change.“I would be very pleased if it was taken as a universal story,” Meise said of his film. “It’s so hard to disentangle the history and the current politics because it’s so virulent.” Meise noted that the issue is far from being a purely historical one, as there seem to be new pushes to reinforce heterosexual norms in places like some U.S. schools.For the men whose lives were affected by Paragraph 175, much has changed. After he settled in Paris, Bermbach built a career as a journalist and filmmaker. Last year he wrote an autobiography, and later this month the high school that kicked him out more than seven decades ago has invited him to visit and read from the book.“Honestly, I don’t really care,” Barmbach said of going back to the place that once expelled him. “As for being denounced for being homosexual, I’ve long forgotten about that.”After Paragraph 175 was reformed in 1969 and again in 1973, the last vestige of it was taken off the books in 1994. In 2017, a year after Meise started writing “Great Freedom,” the German parliament said anyone charged under the law would have their record expunged. It also agreed to offer a meager settlement to those who applied.Of the 50,000 men who might have eligible, only 317 had applied by last summer. More
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Alan Ladd Jr., Hitmaking Film Executive, Dies at 84
When other studios didn’t want it, he took on the project that became “Star Wars.” He later guided “Chariots of Fire,” “Young Frankenstein” and numerous other movies.Alan Ladd Jr., who as a producer and studio executive was a guiding hand behind scores of successful films, none bigger than “Star Wars,” which he championed when its young director, George Lucas, was having trouble getting it made, died on Wednesday at his home in Los Angeles. He was 84.Kathie Berlin, who worked with him for years at his production company and at MGM, said the cause was kidney failure.Mr. Ladd was vice president for creative affairs at 20th Century Fox in 1973 when Mr. Lucas’s agent, Jeff Berg, began talking with him about Mr. Lucas’s still-evolving concept for what became “Star Wars.” Mr. Lucas had just made “American Graffiti,” but it had yet to be released (once it was, it would become one of 1973’s biggest movies), and so Mr. Lucas’s idea for a space movie wasn’t getting much respect; United Artists and Universal weren’t interested.Mr. Ladd, though, was. He knew movies and audiences — his father was an actor who had been in more than 100 films and TV shows — and he understood the appeal of Mr. Lucas’s vision.“It took me back to the old Saturday matinees,” he told The New York Times in 1977 as “Star Wars,” released a few months earlier, was smashing box-office records. “I used to go crazy over Superman and Flash Gordon. When I heard Universal had passed on it, I thought, ‘They’re crazy!’ So I took an option on it.”From left, Mark Hamill, Carrie Fisher and Harrison Ford in George Lucas’s “Star Wars” (1977), which Mr. Ladd agreed to make when other studios weren’t interested.Lucas FilmsIt wasn’t the first time Mr. Ladd had seen potential where others did not. A few years earlier Mel Brooks was shopping his idea for “Young Frankenstein,” but Columbia balked when he insisted on shooting the movie in black and white. Mr. Brooks then sat down with Mr. Ladd.“We all hit it off at our first meeting because the first thing Laddie” — Mr. Ladd’s nickname — “said was, ‘You’re absolutely right. It should be made in black and white,’” Mr. Brooks wrote in his book “All About Me! My Remarkable Life in Show Business” (2021).“I knew right then and there,” Mr. Brooks added, “that I had finally met a studio chief that I could really trust.”Mr. Brooks went on to make several other movies with Mr. Ladd, including the “Star Wars” parody “Spaceballs” in 1987, when Mr. Ladd was chairman of MGM. By then Mr. Brooks was box-office gold, thanks in part to “Young Frankenstein,” which had earned more than $100 million, and, as he told The Los Angeles Times in 1987, he could have taken “Spaceballs” to just about any major studio.“But I’ve known Laddie for years,” he said. “And I’m not so wise, so old or so powerful that I can resist a lot of gut-level help all the way down the line — and especially emotional support — which is something Laddie has always provided.”Gene Wilder, left, and Peter Boyle in Mel Brooks’s “Young Frankenstein” (1974). Mr. Ladd supported Mr. Brooks’s insistence on making the film in black and white.20th Century FoxMr. Ladd, who at various times held top positions at 20th Century Fox and MGM/UA as well as running the Ladd Company, which he founded in 1979, was known for a relatively laid-back style in a business full of intrusive executives. In a 1999 interview with The New York Times, the director Norman Jewison recalled his experience working with Mr. Ladd on the 1987 hit “Moonstruck,” which won three Oscars.“I gave him a price of what I thought I could do the film for,” Mr. Jewison said, “and told him I was going to go after Cher to play the lead. No other major stars. And he called me up and said, ‘OK.’ And I never saw him again, until I told him that the film was finished and I wanted him to see it. That doesn’t happen anymore.”Ms. Berlin said that while Mr. Ladd’s championing of “Star Wars” may be his calling card, he also deserved credit for backing films like “Moonstruck,” “Julia” (1977) and “Thelma and Louise” (1991) that had strong female characters. He is generally credited with suggesting that the lead character in Ridley Scott’s “Alien” (1979), originally written as a man, be changed, giving Sigourney Weaver a chance to create a memorable sci-fi heroine.“I am always asking, ‘Can this role be more interesting if it’s played by a woman rather than a man?’” he told The Los Angeles Times in 1988.Mr. Ladd in 2007. He was known for a relatively laid-back style in a business full of intrusive executives.Misha Erwitt for The New York TimesAlan Walbridge Ladd Jr. was born on Oct. 22, 1937, in Los Angeles to Alan Ladd, best known as the star of the 1953 western “Shane,” and his first wife, Marjorie Jane Harrold.Alan Jr. studied at the University of Southern California, was called up as an Air Force reservist during the Berlin crisis of the early 1960s and, once released, went to work in the mailroom of the talent agency Creative Management Associates. He soon became an agent, representing, among others, Judy Garland.In the early 1970s he formed a producing partnership in London with several others and produced his first movies, including “The Nightcomers” (1971), which starred Marlon Brando.Returning to the United States, he became a vice president at Fox in 1973. In 1976 he became the company’s president. Three years later he announced that he was leaving to form his own company.Mr. Ladd was a top executive at MGM twice. In 1985 he was brought in to run one of its movie divisions; soon after that he was named president and chief operating officer, and then chairman. He left in 1988 with the company undergoing ownership and organizational changes. He was leading the movie division of Pathé Communications when that company acquired MGM, and in 1991 he became chief executive. He was forced out in 1993 in another ownership change.Among the movies the Ladd Company had a hand in was “Chariots of Fire” (1981), which won the best-picture Oscar. “Braveheart” (1995), another Ladd Company project, won the same award.But “Star Wars” was almost certainly Mr. Ladd’s biggest triumph. He was still unsure about whether the film would work when he attended the premiere in San Francisco — until he heard the tidal wave of applause at the end.“It kept going on; it wasn’t stopping,” he recalled later. “And I just never had experienced that kind of reaction to any movie ever. Finally, when it was over, I had to get up and walk outside because of the tears.”Mr. Ladd’s marriage to Patricia Beazley ended in divorce, as did his second marriage, to Cindra Pincock. He is survived by three children from his first marriage, Kelliann Ladd, Tracy Ladd and Amanda Ladd Jones; a brother, David; a sister, Carol Lee Veitch; and six grandchildren. A daughter from his second marriage, Chelsea Ladd, died in 2021. More
