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    Barbara Bosson, 83, Dies; Brought Family Drama to ‘Hill Street Blues’

    She received five consecutive Emmy nominations for her role as Fay Furillo, the frenetic ex-wife of a police precinct captain.Barbara Bosson, who starred in a half-dozen TV crime dramas from the 1970s to the ’90s but who is best known for her five seasons on “Hill Street Blues,” for which she was nominated for five consecutive Emmy Awards, died on Saturday in Santa Monica, Calif. She was 83.Her son, Jesse Bochco, confirmed her death, in a hospital, but said the cause had not been determined.Ms. Bosson was a relatively unknown actress when she burst through the doors of a police station in the pilot episode of “Hill Street Blues,” the much-lauded police drama that ran from 1981 to 1987. She played Fay Furillo, the frenetic ex-wife of Capt. Frank Furillo (played by Daniel J. Travanti), and she had come to demand alimony, which he was chronically late in paying.Fay’s was supposed to be a one-off appearance, but producers, critics and audiences liked her so much that the writers — including her husband, Steven Bochco, the show’s producer and co-creator — quickly made her a part of the main cast.With its busy camera work and overlapping story lines, “Hill Street Blues” is widely considered a landmark in TV history. Set in a gritty (but unnamed) American city, the show offered a textured take on working-class life that struck a chord with a country in the midst of stagflation and deindustrialization. It was nominated for 97 Emmys, a record at the time for a one-hour drama (it has since been surpassed by “The Sopranos,” “Mad Men,” “ER” and “Game of Thrones”), and won 25.Ms. Bosson’s performance as Fay was central to that success. Her character was difficult and self-pitying, but she was also a hardworking single mother struggling to make ends meet.“Fay is one of those transition women,” she told The Washington Post in 1987. “She grew up in one kind of set of values — she’s not unbright, but she never thought she’d have to support herself. And then she found herself divorced, poor, with a child and real angry.”Ms. Bosson faced accusations that she had won the role because she was married to Mr. Bochco. She brushed them off, but she also said they drove her add depth to the character as a way of showing her creative independence. It was her idea, for example, to make Fay a victims’-rights advocate.Mr. Bochco left the show over creative differences at the end of the fifth season. Ms. Bosson left soon after, claiming that the producers were trying to strip Fay of the endearing qualities she had worked so hard to add.Ms. Bosson went on to star in several more crime shows, including the Bochco creations “Hooperman,” “Cop Rock” and “Murder One,” Her performance as a deputy district attorney on “Murder One” earned her a sixth Emmy nomination.Ms. Bosson at a Screen Actors Guild event in 2005.Mark Sullivan/WireImage, via Getty ImagesBarbara Ann Bosson was born on Nov. 1, 1939, in Charleroi, Pa., about 30 miles south of Pittsburgh. Her father, John, was an aspiring tennis coach who made ends meet as a milkman, and her mother, Doris, was a homemaker. When Barbara was a teenager, her family moved to Gulfport, Fla., where she graduated from high school in 1957.She gained admission to the drama department at Carnegie Tech (today part of Carnegie Mellon University), but it was too expensive for her parents. Instead she moved to New York, where she worked as a secretary and took acting classes at night. She also worked for a time as a hostess at the Playboy Club in Midtown Manhattan.“I put up with a lot of leering men to be able to study acting,” she told The St. Petersburg Times in 1990.She eventually saved enough money to enroll at Carnegie Tech in 1965, but left before graduating to pursue acting. Her classmates included several future “Hill Street Blues” colleagues, among them Mr. Bochco and the actors Bruce Weitz and Charles Haid.Mr. Bochco was married, but he had divorced by the time they met again, in Los Angeles, in 1969. They married at the end of the year.They divorced in 1997. Mr. Bochco died in 2018. Along with her son, Ms. Bosson is survived by a daughter, Melissa Bochco; two grandchildren; and her brother, Richard.Ms. Bosson’s first screen credit was in the 1968 crime thriller “Bullitt,” with Steve McQueen, and through the 1970s she was seen in a series of small TV and film roles. She was also a member of the Committee, an improv troupe.Though she continued to find work in the 12 years between leaving “Hill Street Blues” and her retirement in 1997, she found it increasingly frustrating, with good roles for women her age few and far between.“There’s this wonderful tradition in Hollywood where men as old as 60 or 70 play opposite women of 20,” she told The Washington Post. “The only time you’ll see an older woman with a younger man is if she’s so knock-them-down-dead gorgeous that anybody would go for her.” More

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    Chase Stokes Turned Down ‘Outer Banks.’ He’s Glad He Reconsidered.

    The actor plays John B. in the hit Netflix drama, which returns for its third season on Thursday.Before Chase Stokes started playing John B., the teenage treasure hunter at the center of “Outer Banks,” on Netflix, he played a fictional Hollywood manager, mass emailing talent agencies to tout an up-and-coming young actor named Chase Stokes.He also worked as a bartender and a food photographer to make ends meet, and he spent months couch-surfing and occasionally sleeping in his 2009 BMW in the parking lot of the Ovation Hollywood (formerly Hollywood and Highland) mall as he took acting classes.Despite his circumstances, Stokes said he initially turned down offers to audition for “Outer Banks” — it felt like a “Goonies” remake, and he didn’t want to besmirch a classic, he said. But eventually an apartment eviction notice and his car’s overheating engine and expired tags convinced him to give it a shot. He considers himself lucky that he did.“But I think luck is when consistency and determination and hard work meet,” Stokes said.“Outer Banks” is a teen drama about a group of attractive young adventurers (known as “pogues”) battling their island community’s rich kids (“kooks”) and chasing treasure linked to the disappearance of John B.’s father. It debuted in 2020 but broke out when its second season premiered in July 2021, becoming Netflix’s most watched English-language series globally for four weeks. A fan event to promote the third season drew more than 4,000 attendees to Huntington Beach, Calif., on Saturday, to watch performances by acts like Khalid and Lil Baby. The cast also took the stage to announce that the show had already been renewed for a fourth season.Season 3 of “Outer Banks” begins on Thursday, following John B. and the other pogues as they take on new territory in another quest for gold after the first two seasons saw them successfully scavenge and subsequently lose treasures in the Outer Banks of North Carolina. The crew was last seen on a deserted island they had named Poguelandia, and the unexpected discovery of John B.’s presumed-dead father, Big John (played by Charles Halford), sparks a new itch to uncover yet another bounty.In a video call from a West Hollywood hotel, Stokes talked about how he initially declined the role that has made him famous and what “Outer Banks” says about friendship and the class divide. These are edited excerpts from the conversation.You initially turned down the “Outer Banks” audition. What convinced you to reconsider?I really wasn’t making money as an actor up until the job that I did right before “Outer Banks,” which was a show on Amazon called “Tell Me Your Secrets.” But the money had kind of run dry from that show — I had an eviction notice on my door, the registration on my car had expired, my engine was steaming everywhere I went. I’m not a mechanic, so I didn’t know how to fix it, nor did I have the money to do so.After declining the “Outer Banks” audition a couple of times I got a call from Lisa Fincannon, a wonderful casting director, and she said, “You need to read for this.” That was a Wednesday. Sunday came around, and I get a call and [my agent] said: “You’re getting on a plane tonight. Here’s 14 pages of dialogue. Here’s the first four episodes. You’re going to be on the very last row of a plane in the middle seat on a red eye, and you’re going to land in Charleston. The audition is right when you get off the plane.” And I did it, and the rest is history.How would you describe “Outer Banks” to someone who hasn’t seen it?If “Raiders of the Lost Ark” and “Scooby-Doo” had a baby, and that baby became best friends with “The Goonies.”Was there anything about John B. that you particularly related to?I feel like on the exterior, there are a lot of similarities. I grew up on the water; I grew up in Florida, about 30 minutes away from Cocoa Beach, so [I was familiar with] the surfing elements. I got my boater’s license before I got my driver’s license. I think one thing John B. goes through, especially in the third season, that I really related to was the anxiety of the world around him and the fear of failure. That’s something that I’ve kind of always felt, so we definitely share that.Among the pogues: from left, Stokes, Madelyn Cline and Carlacia Grant in the new season of “Outer Banks.”Jackson Lee Davis/NetflixWhen did you know the show was a hit?I think it was six months after the show came out when they finally told us we were going back for the second season. During Covid, seeing hundreds and hundreds of people show up to watch us film — that was when I think we started to put two and two together.They would follow our base camp. All of our trailers would set up in different areas of Charleston, and it would be like an alarm or a mass text would be sent out: You’d see people start to trickle in, and sometimes it’d be 20 people, sometimes it would be 2,000.Stokes describes “Outer Banks” as “if ‘Raiders of the Lost Ark’ and ‘Scooby-Doo’ had a baby, and that baby became best friends with ‘The Goonies.’”Ariel Fisher for The New York TimesWhat have been some of your more interesting fan interactions?I’ve had people who’ve fainted in front of me, and we’ve had people who have cried. I’ve had people telling me that I saved their lives, which is always interesting, to know the show has helped people through a troubling time in human history. So the range of emotions is super vast, but all equally heartwarming.And now it’s really cool because the whole Charleston community has really accepted us, and you walk down the street or you go to a restaurant and people kind of give you a wink or a thumbs up.Are you going to the Poguelandia event?Of course.Where did the concert concept come from?We haven’t had a premiere; the show never had a red carpet. We’ve worked incredibly hard to create something the world has consumed at a really crazy rate, and obviously the platform sees it, and they wanted to congratulate us. I think it’s an ode to the show: The show is kind of a party; it’s kind of a riot. So why not throw a music festival?“Outer Banks” revolves largely around the class divide between the working-class pogues and the wealthy kooks. Is there a message in there about class discrimination?I think it’s a testament to how there has consistently been a class divide not just in this country, but in the world. And the lower class is going to fight tooth and nail to find a way to make an extra buck, and the upper class is going to find a way to save an extra couple thousand bucks. There’s a frustration that’s inevitably going to be there, and I think that’s the driving factor for the pogues. They’re right there, you know? They can see it. It’s so close to them, but they just can’t comprehend how to get there.The popularity of the show has led to many different kinds of fan interactions. “The range of emotions is super vast, but all equally heartwarming,” Stokes said.Ariel Fisher for The New York TimesWhat does the show say about friendship?It’s every kid’s dream to have a group of friends who are going to ride or die and just go the distance with you, and these kids have grown up in an environment where they don’t have a lot. So they learn to do a lot with a little, and it’s a beautiful thing to see. I’m very proud and thankful to be part of a project that gives a true interpretation of friendship — not just the highs of it but also the lows and showing just as much love as when the wins come around.Has this friendship onscreen translated into one among the actors when the cameras are off?All of us came into the show with slim-pickings resumes. So to get into this and to feel like we need to create this truth and transparency through these characters, you sort of fall in love with one another and build this crazy camaraderie and chemistry.Do you think this friendship will carry beyond the show itself? How long do you think it will last?I hope forever. It’s been almost four years now, and I hope we do another 40. More

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    Why I Watch the Closing Credits of Every Movie I See

    One look is enough to challenge the myth of the genius auteur calling all the shots. I watch the closing credits of every movie I see. I learned from my parents, who would always sit in the dark theater watching the names scroll down the screen while the ushers trickled in and the rest of the audience collected their belongings. Their ritual confused me as a kid: “Muppet Treasure Island” was over; Kermit and his friends were reunited; and the villain had his comeuppance. But my parents were still in their seats, eyes on the screen. What more were they expecting?My parents were practicing what now feels like a lost pastime, one I happily joined in as I got older. Back in the golden age of Hollywood, the credits (albeit far less comprehensive) appeared at the beginning of the movie, for all to see. Now they run at the end, like the answers to a special round of movie trivia for those in the know. Before Google and IMDb, if you weren’t sure of the name of a certain scene-stealing character actor, or who was responsible for the exquisite editing, the credits were your source of confirmation. Childhood movie nights at home with my parents and brother would often end with us opening “The Film Encyclopedia,” by Ephraim Katz, an impressive A-to-Z volume that compiled bios and credits from the silent era to the early aughts. We’d go down rabbit holes and hop from one actor or director to another.“You were right — it was a young Norman Lloyd!”“Well spotted! What else was he in?”The first line of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s “The Love of the Last Tycoon” could describe my coming-of-age: “Though I haven’t ever been on the screen, I was brought up in pictures.” Both of my parents have backgrounds in film — they met cute while working on an independent feature — and I grew up visiting sets with my dad when I was on break from school. I remember sitting in a director’s chair next to Sidney Lumet, watching the monitor. It seemed to require hours of takes to get through one page of dialogue. When I got bored of watching the (in)action, I played slapjack with the director of photography’s daughter on one of the sets that wasn’t being used. I visited the wardrobe department and practiced sewing in a straight line on a sheet of loose-leaf paper. I learned about other crew assignments too, including the script supervisor, who showed me her clipboard with the meticulous notes she kept to ensure each scene’s accuracy and consistency. I learned the difference between a gaffer and a grip, and soon I began using acronyms like “D.P.” — they made me feel like an insider.Because of this, I especially loved movies about movies. I watched “Singin’ in the Rain” over and over as a child; in college, I fell hard for “Day for Night” (“La Nuit Américaine”), François Truffaut’s love letter to cinema. My parents, who had their own version of a movie romance, say that the film manages to capture the daily joys and frustrations of life on set. It also conjures that bittersweet moment when the film wraps and the cast and crew go their separate ways. It’s the nature of the business. I imagine that for industry people like my parents, reading the credits is akin to looking through an old yearbook, spotting familiar names and wondering wistfully what so-and-so is up to these days.Our culture of on-demand binge-watching conditions us to race past the credits, taking for granted the collective creative efforts behind the movies and TV shows we so voraciously consume. Many streamers shrink credits, making them illegible on our screens; some even allow us to skip them entirely. Post-credits sequences, meanwhile — a mainstay of franchise fare like the Marvel films — have trained audiences to regard credits as mere backdrops for the latest Easter egg or teaser. We forget that countless individuals, each a storyteller in their own right, make our viewing possible. The distinction between art and “content” is lost.There’s a line in Greta Gerwig’s “Lady Bird” that suggests attention is a form of love — a statement that resonates in this era of diminished attention spans. That’s one of the reasons I linger to watch the credits, and I encourage anyone with an appreciation for movies, and for the people who make them, to stay after the final scene. One look at the credits is enough to challenge the myth of the genius auteur calling all the shots. Credits are the closest that many behind-the-scenes, below-the-line artists and technicians get to a curtain call. These unsung collaborators — the crew members we don’t see hitting the talk-show circuit or strutting down the red carpet, but whose long workdays and skillful labor are an essential source of film magic — deserve their moment in the spotlight.So I’m heartened when I notice those moviegoers who, like me, take a few extra minutes to sit through the credits. They might be looking for the name of someone they know, or curious about the shooting locations. Maybe they’re savoring the closing music while they reflect on what they’ve watched. And, yes, maybe they’re partially hoping to discover a bonus scene. It doesn’t matter. We’re in the same club. An unspoken intimacy and solidarity exists among us, the attentive viewers, and the village of filmmakers we honor. Sometimes I’m tempted to seize on this connection. I could offer a nod or a glance of recognition. Even bolder, I imagine turning to them and asking, “So, what did you think?” Above all, though, I think of my parents — and the other members of the extended moviemaking family — every time I stay behind in my theater seat. I hope I do them credit.Emma Kantor is a writer and editor at Publishers Weekly. More

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    Damson Idris Was Raised on ‘Def Comedy Jam’ and Bagel King

    The star of “Snowfall,” which is kicking off its final season on FX, talks about getting into character with a book about 1980s Los Angeles and why he always feels his best in a tuxedo.The British Nigerian actor Damson Idris can see the connections between his career trajectory and that of Franklin Saint, the character he plays on the FX cocaine saga “Snowfall.”“I came as a kid, and today I’ve got a show under my belt, and I’m meeting new people and there’s a different level of respect that they give me,” said Idris, who was 23 when the show’s creators, including John Singleton (“Boyz N the Hood”), anointed him the lead.“And that happened with Franklin, too,” he said. “He was this pushover kid who was getting beaten up every episode, and he grew into this guy who was running an empire.”So the end of the road was bound to be emotional.Idris, now 31, had just wrapped the sixth and final season and was still riding a wave of euphoria and exhaustion on a video call from his home in Los Angeles. That season begins on Wednesday, picking up a day after the events of the Season 5 finale, after Franklin sees $73 million of his nest egg vanish along with his dreams of a new life and a new wife.Now, with his back against the wall, he’s willing to take out everyone by any means necessary. “The sweet kid has finally turned into the monster,” Idris said.He had planned to take a long break from television after “Snowfall,” he admitted while discussing the first book he read (“I was never a book guy”), the music that moves him and the importance of humility. But then Donald Glover called to discuss his coming series “Swarm,” about an uberfan of a Beyoncé-like pop star, “and I’m like, When do I need to be at work, sir?”These are edited excerpts from the conversation.1‘Young Locs on the Westside’This is actually, embarrassingly enough, the first book that I read. It was given to me by John Singleton, and I used it to understand South L.A. in the ’80s. You follow these kids as they’re transitioning through adolescence to adulthood, and the horrible things that they go through but also the wonderful things that they go through. After I read it, I immediately got into the mentality of Franklin Saint. It helped me get through six seasons.2AmapianoIt’s a subgenre of house music that emerged in South Africa in the mid-2010s, and it doesn’t matter what mood you’re in, you’re going to find your body moving. I tweeted about it last year when I was introduced to it. I said, “If you’re not listening to amapiano music, you’re missing out on life.” There’s a new dance move on TikTok to it every single day. I probably wouldn’t ever do it publicly, but I do it in the house often. My favorite song is “Tanzania” from the D.J. Uncle Waffles. It’s so culturally relevant that artists from Beyoncé to Rihanna are all dabbling.3‘Def Comedy Jam’When I was younger, I’d steal the tapes from my older siblings, wait for them to leave the house and spend all day watching the likes of Martin Lawrence, Chris Tucker, Bernie Mac, Katt Williams, Dave Chappelle. I would impersonate their stand-ups word for word. It was a brilliant party trick for family gatherings, minus the cussing.4FIFA Ultimate TeamI grew up wanting to be a football player. But I remember being 18 and Lionel Messi was 22 at the time. And I was so far behind, talent-wise, to him. He made me quit. [Laughs] The FIFA Ultimate Team is a game mode that’s possibly taken up a third of my life. You are essentially making a super team and then you compete with other people around the world. And till this day, if you lose at FIFA in my friendship circle, you have to give a written and verbal apology to the other person for wasting their time.5Fela Kuti’s ‘Beasts of No Nation’He is so important in Nigerian culture, so important to my family, so important to me. He’s talking about the civil rights of Nigeria of that time and the conflict between the common man and the politics. The song started coming back into my life during George Floyd. I understood the parallels of racism and how it really is a global issue and a pendulum that needed to swing. “Beasts of No Nation” comments on it perfectly.6Mum’s Beef StewI’ve tried a million times to make it, but there’s something I’m missing. Maybe her perfume falls into the soup, and that’s what the missing ingredient is. I would get on a 10-hour flight to London to taste my mother’s cooking and her mix of palm oil, tomatoes, garlic and onion, and then the beef. I hope to get married one day and that beef stew comes with the contract.7Bagel KingIf you grew up in inner-city London, as soon as the party gets shut down, everyone’s going to Bagel King to have a beef patty in buttered cheese-coconut bread and some plantains. It’s a staple in London culture, and it’s housed some of the funniest yet terrifying moments in my life.8‘Liberian Girl’When I was a kid, I remember watching the music video, and it was the first time that I saw a range of artists from different fields. Athletes, musicians, actors, poets — they were all in the same video, all paying homage to the greatest performer of all time. I became infatuated with Hollywood. I said, “I wish I was in that room.”9‘The Black Godfather’This documentary follows the life of Clarence Avant. It dives into the genesis of Black Hollywood and how there was one man behind it all, lurking in the shadows, that was pulling the strings and introducing some of the most amazing people of all time to each other — which then led to greatness. It was incredibly inspirational because it taught me that regardless of the problems that I may face on this journey — the ups and downs, which will inevitably come — those things will not matter as long as you have friends, as long as you’re a good person, as long as you walk in humility.10TuxedosWhen I was 4 or 5, for my birthday my mother would put me in these cute little tuxedo suits. All my friends would be dressed down in their tracksuits, their Reebok classics — here I was in a full-on suit, like I was about to get married. And then my sister would put me in the same suit and force me to marry her doll, who was my height. The doll’s name was Wendy, and she had a string that you could pull that would say “I love you.” It was the first person that said “I love you” to me after my mom. So I fell in love with tuxedos very early. And today I always say a tuxedo makes me feel I’m at my greatest level of excellence. More

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    Stella Stevens, Hollywood Bombshell Who Yearned for More, Dies at 84

    She starred alongside the likes of Elvis Presley and Jerry Lewis. But she wanted to direct and write, and she felt held back by industry sexism.Stella Stevens, whose turn as an A-list actress in 1960s Hollywood placed her alongside sex symbols like Brigitte Bardot, Ann-Margret and Raquel Welch, but who came to resent the male-dominated industry that she felt thwarted her ambitions to be more than a pretty face, died on Friday at a hospice facility in Los Angeles. She was 84.Her son, the actor and director Andrew Stevens, said the cause was Alzheimer’s disease.Ms. Stevens was among the last stars to emerge from Hollywood’s studio system, an arrangement that guaranteed her work but, she often said, also limited her creative aspirations. She won a Golden Globe in the “most promising newcomer” category for her role in “Say One for Me” (1959), a musical comedy starring Bing Crosby and Debbie Reynolds, but felt coerced into joining the cast of “Girls! Girls! Girls!” (1962), an empty Elvis Presley vehicle.Like Ms. Welch, who died on Wednesday, Ms. Stevens was ambivalent, if not outright indignant, about being cast as a Hollywood sex symbol. She described herself as introverted and bookish, and she sought to work with auteurs like John Cassavetes, who cast her as the female lead in “Too Late Blues,” his 1961 drama about a jazz musician (played by Bobby Darin).”I wanted to be a writer-director,” she told the film scholar Michael G. Ankerich in 1994. “All of a sudden I got sidetracked into being a sexpot. Once I was a ‘pot,’ there was nothing I could do. There was nothing legitimate I could do.”She worked with many of the top directors and actors of the 1960s. She starred as the love interest of the title character, a timid college professor who undergoes a personality transformation, in “The Nutty Professor” (1963), which Jerry Lewis wrote, directed and starred in; “The Courtship of Eddie’s Father” (1963), a romantic comedy directed by Vincent Minnelli; and “The Silencers” (1966), a spy spoof starring Dean Martin.In between, though, she had to take a series of mediocre roles in mediocre movies, and critics came to view her as a star who was perpetually kept away from realizing her full potential.From left, Shelley Winters, Carol Lynley, Roddy McDowall and Ms. Stevens in “The Poseidon Adventure” (1972).20th Century FoxTwo exceptions came in the early 1970s: She acted opposite Jason Robards in “The Ballad of Cable Hogue” (1970), a comic western directed by Sam Peckinpah, and as part of an all-star cast assembled for “The Poseidon Adventure” (1972), joining Ernest Borgnine, Shelley Winters and Gene Hackman in an overturned ocean liner.By then her sex-symbol days were fading, and Ms. Stevens hoped to have the time and reputation to become a director. But female directors were almost unheard-of at the time, and her attempts to get support for what she called “a marvelous black comedy” that she wanted to make met repeated dead ends.“Every man I’ve gone to for four years has smiled at me and then double‐crossed me,” she told The New York Times in 1973. “Every man I’ve talked to in every office in this industry has tried his best to discourage me from directing. They don’t want me to find out it’s so easy because it’s supposed to be terribly hard.”Stella Stevens was born Estelle Caro Eggleston on Oct. 1, 1938, in Yazoo City, Miss., though she often told interviewers she was from a town called Hot Coffee, a nearby community. Her agent said anything sounded better than “Yazoo.”Her father, Thomas, worked for a bottling company in Yazoo, and her mother, Estelle (Caro) Eggleston, was a nurse. When Stella was still young, they moved to Memphis, where her father worked in sales for International Harvester.Stella dropped out of high school at 15 to marry Herman Stephens. They had one child, Andrew, and divorced in 1956. (She later changed her surname to Stevens because, she said, it was easier for people to pronounce.)Ms. Stevens in 1968. She worked with many of the top directors and actors of the 1960s, but she also had to take a series of mediocre roles in mediocre movies.Jack Kanthal/Associated PressShe returned to school after the divorce and earned a high school diploma. She enrolled at Memphis State College, now the University of Memphis, with plans to become an obstetrician.She also took up theater. A role in a college production of William Inge’s “Bus Stop” brought an invitation to audition in New York, and by 1959 she was in Los Angeles, on a three-year contract with 20th Century Fox.She finished three movies in six months, including “Say One for Me,” but the studio dropped her soon after. With a young son to feed, she took an offer from Playboy to pose nude for $5,000. After the shoot, she said, Hugh Hefner, the magazine’s publisher, would pay her only half and told her that she had to work as a hostess at the Playboy Mansion to earn the rest.Before the photos ran she signed a new contract, with Paramount. She asked Mr. Hefner to cancel the magazine feature, but he refused, and she appeared as Playmate of the Month in the January 1960 issue, a few months before winning her Golden Globe.“People don’t realize how horrible men can be toward a beautiful woman with no clothes on,” she told Delta magazine in 2010.Her relationship with Playboy remained complicated. Despite her anger at Mr. Hefner, she posed nude for the magazine two more times. She then sued Mr. Hefner and Playboy in 1974, citing several instances of invasion of her privacy, but the case was thrown out because the statute of limitations had expired.In 1998, Playboy named Ms. Stevens 27th on its list of the 20th century’s sexiest female stars, just behind Sharon Stone.Ms. Stevens in 2002. She became a regular guest star on television shows. Frederick M. Brown/Getty ImagesIn addition to her son, Ms. Stevens is survived by three grandchildren. Her longtime partner, Bob Kulick, died in 2020.Despite her career’s post-1960s fade, Ms. Stevens remained eager to work. She turned to television and had roles in some 80 episodes over the next four decades. Most of them were guest appearances on shows like “Murder, She Wrote,” “The Love Boat” and “Magnum P.I.,” though she was also a member of the regular cast of several shows, including the soap opera “Santa Barbara.”When she did return to film, it was often for soft-core erotic thrillers and campy horror movies, like “Chained Heat” (1983), in which she played a prison warden, and “The Granny” (1994), in which she played a wronged grandmother who comes back to life to get revenge on her scheming family.She eventually did get into the director’s chair, for “American Heroine,” a 1979 documentary, and “The Ranch,” a 1989 comedy starring her son. She also wrote a novel, “Razzle Dazzle” (1989), which featured a thinly fictionalized version of herself.“I don’t feel I’ve been successful yet,” she told The Vancouver Sun in 1998. “I’m still waiting to be discovered. I see myself as a work in progress. I keep trying to work and improve and do things I’m proud of.”Danielle Cruz contributed reporting. More

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    With ‘Letters From Max’ Onstage, Sarah Ruhl Again Mourns a Poet’s Death

    Through dialogue, poetry and ritual, the playwright revisits her correspondence with her former student, who died at the age of 25.About 10 minutes into “Letters From Max, a Ritual,” Sarah Ruhl’s new play about her epistolary friendship with the poet Max Ritvo, something akin to a sacred rite takes place: The lights dim, a spotlight illuminates center stage, and the actor portraying Ritvo walks toward a winged tattoo artist. For a few moments, they circle each other. Then the tattoo artist-angel removes the hospital gown that the poet is wearing and lifts him with grace. With a miming gesture, he offers a compact mirror to Ritvo so he might examine the birds newly adorning his back.“It’s dope,” Ritvo says of the tattoo, looking over his shoulder. “I really love it in this light.”But that quiet exchange was not dreamed up by Ruhl. It is actually a scene from a play that Ritvo wrote for Ruhl when he was a student at Yale in 2012, four years before he died of cancer at the age of 25. (After each surgery, he would acquire a new tattoo of a bird.) Before handing in the project, he told Ruhl, “I am adamant that something extravagant and silent happen.”With the Signature Theater production of “Letters From Max,” his desire for the work is now being realized in a way he might not have imagined.Ruhl’s play, adapted from a book she compiled of their correspondence during Ritvo’s chemotherapy, boils down to a single, yearslong conversation about poetry, love, mortality, the afterlife and soup. But this is not a traditional play. Poems and live music are interspersed between the dialogue, which comes from the letters, texts and voice mail messages they exchanged.Edelman, right, as a tattoo artist-angel, helping Pais remove his hospital gown in the play. The two actors alternate in the role of Max.Ye Fan for The New York Times“I don’t think of this play as ‘show business,’” Ruhl said in an interview, “but instead an encounter for the audience.” She hopes viewers will “bring their own grief or their own need for communal sadness,” she said, adding that the theater has been a place for catharsis dating back to the Greeks. “We’ve all been through so much in the last two years.”Though Ruhl feels her own grief in this production, which opens on Feb. 27, she has also found joy in sharing Ritvo’s work, and in seeing it move people the same way he did. “He was such a present, joyful person who made everyone around him laugh,” she said. There are other small tributes to Ritvo, too: A song he composed recurs throughout, and the titles of his poems are projected in his handwriting above the stage.There were no plans to adapt “Letters From Max” upon the book’s 2018 publication. But as Ruhl read sections at events — often with an actor reading Ritvo’s words — people asked, “Is this going to be a play?”Before distilling the 309-page book into a two-hour stage production, Ruhl consulted Ritvo’s literary executor, the poet Elizabeth Metzger.“She asked me long ago, ‘Do you think Max would want this?’” Metzger recalled, adding that she was “very, very certain that Max would.” For Ruhl, finding “the bones” within hundreds of pages of correspondence became a process of trial and error.She realized the first act is “about a teacher and a student getting to know each other and forming a friendship,” she said, “that would then reverse the teacher-student relationship” in the second act, which opens with a dialectic on the afterlife. “I was trying to offer Max a comforting view of the afterlife when he was afraid of death,” Ruhl said. “And he ultimately said, ‘Thank you. But no.’”Kate Whoriskey, who directed the New York production of Ruhl’s previous epistolary play, “Dear Elizabeth,” also about two poets exchanging letters, signed on to direct, and the actress Jessica Hecht was game to portray Ruhl, her longtime friend and collaborator. But casting Ritvo introduced a unique challenge. “I’m definitely sensitive to the fact that he had a huge reach and people are still in mourning,” Ruhl said.She said she was moved during auditions. “It was actually beautiful to see Max’s language inside a young person’s body again,” Ruhl said. Ruhl and Whoriskey liked the idea of a third body onstage — similar to the Stage Manager in Thornton Wilder’s “Our Town” — who might “care-take the space” by delivering soup and poems to Ruhl and Ritvo. When the actors Ben Edelman and Zane Pais read for the role of Ritvo, Ruhl said, the team believed they “could do beautifully in both roles” by alternating nights. It turned out that Edelman plays the piano and Pais plays the guitar, so each composed music to perform while the other recites Ritvo’s poetry.“There’s some mystery, and it’s beyond words,” Ruhl said of the duality. “But it’s something about the spirit and the body, and the observer and the observed.” Not to mention, as Ruhl writes in the program note, the actors’ interchangeability demonstrates that Ritvo’s spirit and legacy is “bigger than any one actor.”“Max was many himself,” Metzger said. “Every time he read a poem, he read it differently, because he allowed the moment of the poem and the moment he was reading to merge.”When rehearsals began, Metzger texted Ruhl some guidance for the actors: “Reading the letters, the character is coming to face death,” she wrote, but “reading the poems, the character is not dying but being born, coming to life!” Metzger hoped the actors might “capture the shock of Max’s performance style, even the strange wild aliveness of the poems on the page.”Ritvo’s mother, Riva Ariella Ritvo, has been “an incredibly staunch supporter,” Edelman said, calling a video meeting she had with the cast members “one of the most intense experiences of my life.”He and Pais didn’t study Ritvo’s mannerisms. Instead, they aimed to embody his work. “Neither of us are trying to do an impersonation of Max at all,” Pais said.Hecht and Pais onstage during rehearsals at the Pershing Square Signature Center. Marsha Ginsberg’s spare set includes a white zoetrope that rotates to reveal scenes inside Max Ritvo’s childhood home, hospital rooms and a theater.Ye Fan for The New York TimesTo foreground the writing, the scenic designer Marsha Ginsberg kept the stage spare. The sole set piece is a white zoetrope that rotates to reveal scenes inside Ritvo’s childhood home, hospital rooms and the 13th Street Repertory Theater, where he accepted the 2014 Chapbook Fellowship from the Poetry Society of America while wearing a pink kimono. At one point, during a silent sequence, the outside of the zoetrope becomes the window of an Amtrak quiet car. “We were trying to create a world where imaginative scapes could happen,” Whoriskey said. “So that a poem happens, and then suddenly, you’re seeing skeletons across a bridge, or a poem happens, and you’re seeing the shimmering of water.”Hecht didn’t work through the emotional arc of Ruhl’s character until the week before previews began. Though it’s easy to cry on command, she said, “I felt embarrassed to do that before we lived through the play for a while, and I really felt the weight of that story and that person coming into our lives.”For the past 30 years, Ruhl said, she has carried on an “intense” dialogue on life and art with Paula Vogel, her former professor. “When I met Max, it felt like he was one of those people that I would have that kind of dialogue with, had he lived that long,” she said. “It’s a comet-like thing. You might only meet those people once every … how often do comets circle?” Perhaps Ritvo made such an impact because he valued relationships. “He’s not a poet who just went inward and was exploring his own self and soul. It was always about talking to another person in a room,” Metzger said. “It was happening all the time, these little births and deaths of just being with a person in a room. I think that’s why he had so much intimacy with so many people. I’ve never met someone with as capacious of a soul.”When Ruhl attended the first preview performance of “Letters From Max, a Ritual” earlier this month, she could finally observe “how the humor landed,” how the emotional beats played out, and how Ritvo’s poetry “theatrically holds an audience.”But it wasn’t until intermission that the project came full circle. As part of the play’s “ritual,” she said, audience members sat at tables in the lobby to write letters to loved ones. A young woman approached Ruhl with an envelope addressed to her. The playwright opened it and drew out a note reading: “I have incurable brain cancer. And this production gave me hope.” More

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    BAFTAs Make Changes for Better Representation Among Nominees

    Three years after an all-white lineup of actors was nominated, this year’s group is more diverse.LONDON — In January 2020, the performers shortlisted for the British Academy Film Awards were announced. All 20 actors on the list were white. Never mind that, five years earlier, an all-white actor lineup at the Academy Awards had sparked a global backlash, and given rise to the #OscarsSoWhite hashtag. The British Academy of Film and Television Arts (BAFTA) was taking the same path.Criticism was instant, and it continued at the awards ceremony the following month. “Not for the first time in the last few years, we find ourselves talking again about the need to do more to ensure diversity in the sector and in the awards process,” said Prince William, the president of BAFTA, as he introduced the event’s final award at the Royal Albert Hall. “That simply cannot be right in this day and age.”Joaquin Phoenix went further, as he collected his award for best actor for “Joker.” “I think that we send a very clear message to people of color that you are not welcome here,” he said. It was, he added, “the obligation of the people that have created, and perpetuate and benefit from, a system of oppression to be the ones that dismantle it. So that’s on us.”BAFTA’s reaction was immediate, and comprehensive. As the world descended into lockdown in the early months of the pandemic, the British academy seized the opportunity to consult about 400 people, including industry-group representatives, directors, actors, and screenwriters, as well as academics and union leaders.By September, a review was out with more than 120 changes. Among them: adding at least 1,000 new voting BAFTA members, with a focus on underrepresented groups; publishing a longlist in all categories, with voters obliged to see all longlisted films in the categories they are voting for; and demanding that there be as many women as men on the best director longlist.Three years on, the diversity among nominees has improved. Ten of the 24 nominees in the four performance categories are ethnically diverse. The multiverse story about a Chinese American immigrant family, “Everything Everywhere All at Once,” starring Michelle Yeoh, has 10 nominations. And the only criticism raised by this year’s shortlist is that only one woman has been nominated in the best director category — Gina Prince-Bythewood for her movie “The Woman King.”Gina Prince-Bythewood was nominated for best director for her movie “The Woman King,” the only woman nominated in that category.Erik Carter for The New York TimesThe awards have “increased visibility of Black and brown people and people of color” in all categories, and they have also “sustained conversations” on the theme of diversity and inclusivity, said Clive Nwonka, an associate professor of film, culture and society at University College London, who was one of the many people consulted by BAFTA in its review.Mr. Nwonka welcomed the review, describing it as “extensive,” and said it reflected “a recognition that there needs to be some kind of radical change.”Yet he noted that it would take five or six years to get a full sense of the review’s impact, and that in the meantime, discriminatory attitudes and practices remained just as ingrained as they were everywhere else.The Projectionist Chronicles the Awards SeasonThe Oscars aren’t until March, but the campaigns have begun. Kyle Buchanan is covering the films, personalities and events along the way.Meet the Newer, Bolder Michelle Williams: Why she made the surprising choice to skip the supporting actress category and run for best actress.Best-Actress Battle Royal: A banner crop of leading ladies like Michelle Yeoh and Cate Blanchett rule the Oscars’ deepest and most dynamic race.‘Glass Onion’ and Rian Johnson: The director explains why he sold the “Knives Out” franchise to Netflix, and how he feels about its theatrical test.A Supporting-Actress Underdog: In “Everything Everywhere All at Once,” don’t discount the pivotal presence of Stephanie Hsu.The entertainment world “parades the idea that what happens in the industry is separate and distinct from the rest of the society,” Mr. Nwonka said. Yet the same systemic racism prevails in the film world as it does when a person of color is “walking down the street.”The BAFTA review was spearheaded by the organization’s chair Krishnendu Majumdar, a film and television producer who was previously BAFTA’s deputy chair, and who steps down from the board in June.BAFTA’s aim is “to level the playing field: We want more films to be watched, and a diverse range of films to be evaluated,” Mr. Majumdar said in an interview at the British academy’s headquarters on London’s Piccadilly. “And it has to be on merit.”The review threw up a number of findings. Actors of color spoke of “exclusion” and “racism,” which Mr. Majumdar said he had experienced firsthand. For actors with disabilities or from economically disadvantaged backgrounds, the outlook was possibly worse, he said, recalling the “horrific” stories that those performers had told of experiencing invisibility and discrimination.Still, the professionals polled in the review made one thing clear: They wanted no quotas and no “tokenism” — no separate category for female directors, for instance. They “just wanted their work to be seen,” Mr. Majumdar said.All in all, the problem “starts at the top” of the British film industry, Mr. Majumdar said, because there isn’t “the diversity of voices” and “the diversity of thought” in boardrooms and among decision makers and program commissioners. He concluded: “We’re moving toward a fairer system.”Daniel Kwan and Daniel Scheinert’s film, “Everything Everywhere All at Once,” about a Chinese American immigrant family, received 10 nominations.Allyson RiggsMichelle Yeoh, front, with Stephanie Hsu and Ke Huy Quan, has been nominated for best actress for “Everything Everywhere All at Once.”Allyson Riggs/A24, via Associated PressJane Millichip, the BAFTA chief executive who took over in July, promised that the review process would be ongoing and constant. “Every year, we will reassess. Every year, we will look again,” she said. “This is not a perfect full stop.”She said that to get rid of “unconscious bias,” BAFTA voters were being encouraged to watch videos aimed at “broadening the mind-set” and making sure that they weren’t “unintentionally making systemic assumptions.” The academy was striving for “empathy,” she added, and “asking people to put themselves in someone else’s shoes.”Since 2020, there are signs of progress, and not just in the acting category.The best director and best picture winners in the last two years were women: Chloé Zhao for “Nomadland” in 2021, and Jane Campion for “The Power of the Dog” in 2022. In the half-century before, there had only ever been six female nominees in the director category, and one winner — Kathryn Bigelow in 2010 for “The Hurt Locker.”As BAFTA pointed out, there might have been more than one shortlisted women director this year, were it not for the fact that more than twice as many men as women submitted films to be considered for the best director category. In other words, there was a much bigger male talent pool for the voters to choose from.What does Britain’s leading actors’ union think of this year’s nominations?Ian Manborde, the equality and diversity officer of the Equity union — which represents 47,000 creative professionals and the majority of actors in Britain — was among those consulted by BAFTA in its review.“Quite clearly, there’s been some change if you look at the lineup now,” he said in an interview. Yet he added that the review was “not a one-off exercise: It’s a constant process.”He said some of Equity’s biggest concerns were around disability and social class — more specifically, how to prevent performers from being discriminated against on those grounds.In the end, Mr. Manborde said, the awards system was just “one feature” of a global industry that determined what stories were told, who commissioned and created them, and who got the opportunity to portray them. And that industry was far from equal, he said.“True diversity in the awards system will only exist when there’s greater diversity at the other end,” Mr. Manborde said — meaning “who gets to decide what stories are told.” More

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    Raquel Welch, Actress and ’60s Sex Symbol, Is Dead at 82

    Beginning with a doeskin bikini in “One Million Years B.C.,” she built a celebrated show business career around sex appeal and, sometimes, a comic touch.Raquel Welch, the voluptuous movie actress who became the 1960s’ first major American sex symbol and maintained that image for a half-century in show business, died on Wednesday at her home in Los Angeles. She was 82.Her death was confirmed by her son, Damon Welch. No cause was given.Ms. Welch’s Hollywood success began as much with a poster as with the film it publicized. Starring in “One Million Years B.C.” (1966) as a Pleistocene-era cave woman, she posed in a rocky prehistoric landscape, wearing a tattered doeskin bikini, and grabbed the spotlight by the throat with her defiant, alert-to-everything, take-no-prisoners stance and her dancer’s body. She was 26. It had been four years since Marilyn Monroe’s death, and the industry needed a goddess.Camille Paglia, the feminist critic, described the poster photograph as “the indelible image of a woman as queen of nature.” Ms. Welch, she went on, was “a lioness — fierce, passionate and dangerously physical.”Ms. Welch played a Pleistocene-era cave woman in the 1966 movie that skyrocketed her to fame.Universal History Archive/UIG, via Getty ImagesHer Hollywood success began as much with this poster as with the film it publicized.Bettmann, via Getty ImagesWhen Playboy in 1998 named the 100 sexiest female stars of the 20th century, Ms. Welch came in third — right after Marilyn Monroe and Jayne Mansfield. Brigitte Bardot was fourth.The critics were often unkind. Throughout her career, Ms. Welch was publicly admired more for her anatomy than for her dramatic abilities. She even called her 2010 book, a memoir and self-help guide, “Beyond the Cleavage.”But when she had a chance to show off her comic abilities, they were kinder. Ms. Welch won a Golden Globe for her role in Richard Lester’s 1973 adaptation of “The Three Musketeers”; her character was a hopelessly klutzy 17th-century Frenchwoman, torn between two lives — as a landlord’s wife and the queen’s seamstress.Despite a career based largely on sex appeal, Ms. Welch repeatedly refused to appear nude onscreen. “Personally, I always hated feeling so exposed and vulnerable” in love scenes, she wrote in her memoir, noting that even when she appeared in a prestigious Merchant Ivory film (“The Wild Party,” 1975), the filmmakers, those acclaimed arbiters of art-house taste, pressured her to do a nude bedroom scene, to no avail.Ms. Welch won a Golden Globe for her role in Richard Lester’s 1973 adaptation of “The Three Musketeers.”Sunset Boulevard/Corbis, via Getty Images“I’ve definitely used my body and sex appeal to advantage in my work, but always within limits,” she said. But, she added, “I reserve some things for my private life, and they are not for sale.”Jo-Raquel Tejada was born in Chicago on Sept. 5, 1940, the oldest of three children of Armando Carlos Tejada, a Bolivian-born aeronautical engineer, and Josephine Sarah (Hall) Tejada, an American of English descent. They had met as students at the University of Illinois.When Raquel was 2, the family moved to Southern California for her father’s work in the war effort. At 7, encouraged by her mother, she enrolled at San Diego Junior Theater, where her only early disappointment was being cast in her first play as a boy. She began ballet classes the same year and continued to study dance for a decade.After graduating from La Jolla High School in San Diego, where her nickname was Rocky, she received a scholarship — thanks to success in local beauty pageants — to study theater at San Diego State College. But she dropped out at 19 to marry her high school boyfriend, James Wesley Welch. Because of her local celebrity, she landed a job as the “weather girl” on KFMB, a San Diego television station.Ms. Welch and Stephen Boyd in “Fantastic Voyage” (1966).20th Century Fox/Everett CollectionThe birth of her two children complicated her career plans, but she soon left her husband — “the most painful decision of my entire life,” she called it — and moved to Los Angeles to pursue acting. (They divorced in 1964.)She had hoped to move to New York instead, she recalled. But the trip would have been prohibitively expensive, and, anyway, she didn’t own a winter coat.It was not long before she had a contract with a major studio, 20th Century Fox. She had early hopes of making her big-screen debut in a James Bond movie; the producer Albert R. Broccoli wanted her for “Thunderball.” But that dream was quashed when she was cast in “Fantastic Voyage” (1966), a science fiction film about scientists reduced to microscopic size to travel inside a diseased human body. Then came “One Million Years B.C.,” and that did it.“There’s a certain thing about that white-hot moment of first fame that is just pure pain,” Ms. Welch said in an interview with Cigar Aficionado magazine in 2001. “It’s just not comfortable. I felt like I was supposed to be perfect. And because everybody was looking at me so hard, I felt there was so much to prove.”She appeared in some two dozen films over the next decade, perhaps most notably “Myra Breckinridge” (1970), based on Gore Vidal’s campy novel, in which she played a glamorous transgender woman, and “The Last of Sheila” (1973), a semi-campy murder mystery with a luxury-yacht setting and a script by Stephen Sondheim.Ms. Welch as a transgender woman in a scene from the 1973 movie “Myra Breckinridge.” At right is the film critic and sometime actor Rex Reed. Some of her most memorable roles were small ones. In “Bedazzled” (1967), Stanley Donen’s Faustian fantasy with Peter Cook and Dudley Moore, she played Lust, one of the Seven Deadly Sins; in “The Magic Christian” (1969), with Peter Sellers and Ringo Starr, her character’s name was Mistress of the Whip.Ms. Welch had love scenes with the former football star Jim Brown in “100 Rifles” (1969), a western set in Mexico. She followed “The Three Musketeers” with its 1974 sequel, but those films never led to the sophisticated comedy opportunities she had hoped for. (She did, however, have a memorable chance to display her comedic side years later, when she played herself in a 1997 episode of “Seinfeld.”)After “Mother, Jugs and Speed” (1976), a farce about ambulance drivers (which also starred Bill Cosby and Harvey Keitel), her screen acting was limited mostly to television guest appearances.But she had already discovered the joys of stage work. Inspired after seeing Frank Sinatra’s nightclub act, Ms. Welch made her club debut, singing and dancing, at the Las Vegas Hilton in 1973. Eight years later she made her Broadway debut, hired as a two-week vacation replacement for Lauren Bacall in the hit musical “Woman of the Year.” Her reviews were so admiring (Mel Gussow’s in The New York Times ended by writing, “One hopes that Miss Welch will soon find a musical of her own”) that she returned the next year for a six-month stint in the role.“The first minute I stepped out on that stage and the people began applauding,” she told The Times later, “I just knew I’d beaten every bad rap that people had hung on me.” She returned to Broadway in 1997, replacing Julie Andrews for seven weeks in “Victor/Victoria.”Ms. Welch was a presenter at the 2010 Tony Awards ceremony at Radio City Music Hall in New York. She appeared on Broadway twice, in “Woman of the Year” and “Victor/Victoria.”Sara Krulwich/The New York TimesIn 1987, Ms Welch published “The Raquel Welch Total Beauty and Fitness Program,” which included exercises based on the principles of hatha yoga. She released a companion video with the same title.Few thought of Ms. Welch as a Latina actress, but she embraced that identity late in her career, starring as a melodramatic Mexican American aunt on “American Family,” a PBS series (2002). She learned to speak Spanish in her 60s; her father had not allowed the language to be spoken at home when she was growing up.Her last film was “How to Be a Latin Lover” (2017), a comic drama about an aging gigolo, played by Eugenio Derbez. She played his new target — a disarming, too-glamorous-to-be-true grandmother. Her final television appearances were on “Date My Dad” (2017), a Canadian American series, in a recurring role as the leading man’s Mexican mother-in-law.Ms. Welch was married and divorced four times. After Mr. Welch, her husbands were Patrick Curtis (1969-72), a producer; André Weinfeld (1980-90), a French director and producer; and Richard Palmer (1999-2008), a restaurateur.In addition to her son, Ms. Welch is survived by her daughter, Tahnee Welch, and a brother, Jimmy Tejada.In her late 70s, Ms. Welch was still followed by photographers, and reporters were still commenting on her appearance. In 2001, she answered questions about fashion and style in an interview with The Los Angeles Times.“Style has to have substance,” she said. “It has to have fire.” Praising synergy, instinct, imagination and attitude over trendiness and fashion-magazine dictates, she concluded, “It’s about being yourself on purpose.”Michael Levenson More