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      Paul Ritter, British Stage, Film and TV Actor, Dies at 54

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      A familiar face to British theatergoers, he was also well known for his role as an eccentric father on the popular sitcom “Friday Night Dinner.”Paul Ritter, a versatile British actor who appeared in “Harry Potter” and James Bond movies and played a key figure behind the nuclear disaster that was the subject of the HBO mini-series “Chernobyl,” died on Monday at his home in Kent, England. He was 54.His agency, Markham, Froggatt & Irwin, announced the death. He had been treated for a brain tumor.Mr. Ritter was a familiar face to British theatergoers and well known for his role as Martin Goodman, the eccentric father of a London Jewish family, on the popular sitcom “Friday Night Dinner,” seen on Channel 4 since 2011.He played the ill-fated nuclear engineer Anatoly Dyatlov on the award-winning HBO drama “Chernobyl” (2019), the wizard Eldred Worple in “Harry Potter and The Half-Blood Prince” (2009) and a devious political operative in the James Bond film “Quantum of Solace” (2008).He was also frequently seen in productions at Britain’s National Theater, including “All My Sons,” “Coram Boy” and “The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time,” in which his performance as the father of a socially challenged teenager was praised as “superb” by Matt Wolf in The New York Times.He appeared in “Art” at the Old Vic in London and as Prime Minister John Major, opposite Helen Mirren as Queen Elizabeth II, in a West End production of “The Audience.”Mr. Ritter was nominated for a Tony Award in 2009 for his performance in Alan Ayckbourn’s farce “The Norman Conquests.”He was born in 1966 in Kent. He is survived by his wife, Polly, and two sons, Frank and Noah. More

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      Overlooked No More: Granville Redmond, Painter, Actor, Friend

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      He was known for his California landscapes. Deaf since childhood, he acted with Charlie Chaplin in silent films, an early example of deaf representation in Hollywood.This article is part of Overlooked, a series of obituaries about remarkable people whose deaths, beginning in 1851, went unreported in The Times.In the opening scene of the classic silent film “City Lights” (1931), Charlie Chaplin’s character, the Little Tramp, dangles comically from a statue while its sculptor watches in horror, raising his hand to his mouth in surprise and wiping his brow in distress.The actor portraying the sculptor, Granville Redmond, appeared in seven Chaplin films, recognizable by his wild mane of hair. Redmond was deaf, and his performances were early examples of deaf representation in Hollywood. Some believe Redmond even taught Chaplin, famous as a pantomime, how to use sign language.But Redmond was first and foremost an artist, one who inspired Chaplin with paintings of California’s natural beauty: quiet, brown tonal scenes; lonely rock monuments jutting off an island peninsula; tree-dotted meadows lit by a warm sun; blue nocturnal marshes under the dramatic glow of the moon. His paintings are considered today among the best examples of California Impressionism.“California Poppy Field” — Redmond  was admired for his landscapes depicting golden poppies, the state’s official flower. California School for the Deaf, Fremont, Gift of Edith RedmondThe Los Angeles Times art critic Arthur Millier wrote in 1931 that Redmond was “unrivaled in the realistic depiction of California’s landscape.” Yet his style was never uniform: Some paintings left sections of the canvas exposed and chunky deposits of pigment, while others took on a smoother look.Above all he was known for his paintings of golden poppies, the state’s official flower. His poppies accented his renditions of the rolling meadows of the San Gabriel Valley, often accompanied by purple lupines. Sometimes they complemented a coastal scene with bursts of yellow highlights.“He painted them better than anyone else; I don’t think that can be argued,” said Scott A. Shields, who curated a show of Redmond’s work last year at the Crocker Art Museum in Sacramento. “You can feel the seasons. You can feel when it’s spring, you can feel when it’s winter, and you can feel when it starts to become summer.”His paintings of poppies became a popular keepsake for tourists, to Redmond’s chagrin; he preferred painting scenes of solitude.“Alas, people will not buy them,” he told The Los Angeles Times. “They all seem to want poppies.”Chaplin supported Redmond’s painting career, offering him a room to paint in the loft of an unused building on his studio lot. On breaks, Chaplin would visit Redmond there and quietly watch him work.“Redmond paints solitude, and yet by some strange paradox the solitude is never loneliness,” Chaplin told Alice T. Terry in a 1920 article for The Jewish Deaf, a magazine.Redmond in his studio in 1917. Chaplin would sometimes visit him and quietly watch him work.Collection of Paula and Terry Trotter.He had such an appreciation for Redmond’s paintings that he took down the photographs of film celebrities from his walls so as not to detract from the Redmond work that he placed over his mantel.“You know, something puzzles me about Redmond’s pictures,” Chaplin was quoted as saying in 1925 in The Silent Worker, a newspaper for the deaf community. “There’s a wonderful joyousness about them all.”“Look at the gladness in that sky, the riot of color in those flowers,” he continued. “Sometimes I think that the silence in which he lives has developed in him some sense, some great capacity for happiness in which we others are lacking.”Grenville Richard Seymour Redmond was born in Philadelphia, Pa., on March 9, 1871, the oldest of five children of Charles and Elizabeth (Buck) Redmond. (He changed the spelling of his name to Granville in 1898 to differentiate himself from an uncle.) His father was a Civil War veteran in the Union Army and a laborer who worked across several trades. Redmond lost his ability to hear when he was 2, after coming down with scarlet fever. The next year his family moved to San Jose, Calif., to live near a family member who owned a ranch.“Moonlight on the Marsh” Collection of Mr. and Mrs. Thomas B. Stiles IIIn 1879, he enrolled in the California Institution for the Education of the Deaf and Dumb, and the Blind (now the California School for the Deaf) in Berkeley. It was there Redmond found an affinity for drawing under the instruction of another deaf artist, Theophilus Hope d’Estrella, who introduced him to a Saturday art class at the California School of Design. He went on to enroll in the school. In 1893, he was selected by the faculty to create a drawing for the 1893 World’s Columbian Exposition in Chicago.Redmond communicated through sign language and writing, but because of his focus on art he never mastered written English, a gap in his education that he came to regret. “In my early days in school I was always drawing, drawing,” he wrote.After graduation, he studied in Paris at the Académie Julian. In 1895, his painting “Matin d’Hiver” (“Winter Morning”), depicting a barge on a bank of the Seine, was admitted to the Paris Salon, a high honor for an artist at the time. He painted in France for a few more years, hoping to enter another painting at the Salon and win a medal, but he struggled financially and returned to California, depressed, in 1898.He married Carrie Ann Jean, who was from Indiana and also deaf, in 1899, and they had three children.Redmond’s paintings of poppies became popular among tourists — much to his chagrin. He preferred painting scenes of solitude. “Alas, people will not buy them,” he said. “They all seem to want poppies.”Collection of Thomas GianettoRedmond’s early works were Tonalist in nature, a nod to his training in San Francisco as well as to the artists of the 19th-century Barbizon school, whose landscape paintings he had come to know in France. Many of his paintings are scenes from Terminal Island, Catalina Island and Laguna Beach in Southern California. He returned to Northern California in 1908, living and painting in Monterey, San Mateo and Marin Counties.“A lot of newspapers would write that he could see more than the average person because his sense of vision was heightened,” Shields, the Crocker museum curator, said in a phone interview. “Redmond kind of believed that himself.”Redmond’s work was well received, but a lack of funds — partly because of an economic downturn at the beginning of World War I — led him to move back to Los Angeles and try his hand at acting.In the silent-movie era Redmond’s disability, coupled with his artistic inclination, worked to his advantage. Chaplin saw him as a natural for small parts in his films because Redmond expressed himself through gestures, Shields said. The two men communicated on the set by signing to each other.Sometimes Redmond’s deafness worked its way into plotlines. In Arthur Rosson’s “You’d Be Surprised” (1926), Redmond played a coroner pretending to be a deaf valet. Only viewers who knew sign language could follow the conversation.The movies also provided him with a new market for his art; buyers included the Hollywood elite, like Douglas Fairbanks and Mary Pickford.Redmond died of complications of a heart condition on May 24, 1935. He was 64. (Chaplin died at 88 in 1977.)Alice Terry, the writer for The Jewish Deaf magazine, saw artistic commonalities in the two friends.“For more than two years now, these two have worked side by side,” she wrote in 1920, “Chaplin, silently and dramatically, by his ingenious trivialities, creating mirth and sunshine for millions of tired people; and Redmond, silently and none the less effectively, brightening the lives of all, by his radiant, appealing pictures on canvas.” More

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      A Theater Photographer Senses a Broadway Bloom

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      For Sara Krulwich, who has shot productions for The New York Times for more than two decades, a series of recent assignments hinted at an industry revival.Times Insider explains who we are and what we do, and delivers behind-the-scenes insights into how our journalism comes together.On the first evening in April, Sara Krulwich, a New York Times photographer, visited the Kraine Theater in the East Village, where Mike Daisey, an actor and monologuist, was rehearsing a show for which the seating capacity would be limited to 22. The restriction, Mr. Daisey said, reminded him of his earliest days as a performer, when he was thrilled if even a handful of people were in the audience.For about 20 minutes, Ms. Krulwich photographed Mr. Daisey, adjusting her shutter, she later said, to ensure that “the theater lights and my camera were going to talk to each other in a kindly way.”The next day, Ms. Krulwich photographed part of a performance at the Daryl Roth Theater at Union Square. And on Saturday, she shot a 36-minute performance at the historic St. James Theater in Midtown. Those assignments added up to her busiest stretch of theater work in more than a year.Theatrical productions, dormant since last spring, are resuming in New York City, the first tentative steps toward what actors, directors and others hope will be a strong comeback by the fall. And many in the theater world may see Ms. Krulwich’s presence as a reassuring sign.For more than two decades, she has been a Broadway and Off Broadway fixture, photographing about 100 shows a year, a body of work that led to her receiving a Tony Honor in 2018.After a yearlong absence, Ms. Krulwich began photographing performances and rehearsals, feeling her way back into familiar tasks and reflecting on early traces of a theatrical revival, which, she said, mirrored the stirrings of spring.“The blooms are beginning,” she said by phone. “Even if we’re not seeing the full flowering just yet.”Ms. Krulwich joined The Times as a staff photographer in 1979, working for the Metro, National and Sports desks before becoming the paper’s first culture photographer in 1994.At that time, she said, it was common for news organizations to run theater photographs handed out by producers that tended to present reality in the light most favorable to them. Ms. Krulwich, however, wanted to cover theater with the same journalistic approach that the paper employed while reporting on other events.Ms. Krulwich said that her approach was direct, telling producers that theater was looked upon as news inside The Times and should be documented that way. Eventually, she obtained access to almost every production in the city.Over the years, Ms. Krulwich has captured moments that have become a part of theater lore. She photographed developmental work on the Broadway production of Tony Kushner’s masterwork, “Angels in America.” In 1996, she took what is believed to be the last picture of Jonathan Larson, the writer and composer of “Rent,” hours before his death the night before the show’s first Off Broadway preview.Her Tony, in 2018, made her the first journalist recognized for excellence in the theater, an honor given to people, organizations and institutions that have contributed to the industry but are not eligible to win in other Tony categories.Returning to work inside venues she’s accustomed to, Ms. Krulwich said she took delight in seeing people she has known for many years and looked forward to a time when everyone connected to productions will, once again, be able to make a living.“It’s a small group of people,” she said. “Almost an extended family.”The day after photographing Mr. Daisey, Ms. Krulwich wore an N-95 mask and climbed a ladder at the Daryl Roth while shooting about 20 minutes of a performance of “Blindness,” an audio adaptation of the dystopian novel of the same name by the Portuguese writer José Saramago.And then, the following day, at the St. James, she photographed the dancer Savion Glover and the actor Nathan Lane at the 36-minute event they performed in front of a masked audience of 150.It was, noted Michael Paulson, a Times theater reporter, the first time in 387 days that there was activity inside a Broadway house.Ms. Krulwich said the performance was not the same as one that would have taken place before the coronavirus pandemic, but she added that she felt at home back inside the St. James and appreciated the hints of what is to come.“I must say, it felt familiar to me,” she said. “It’s just a little bit. It’s a tiptoe. It’s the doors opening a crack.” More

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      in Television

      Gloria Henry, ‘Dennis the Menace’ Mother, Dies at 98

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      She was a prolific B-movie actress early in her career, but she became best known for her role as Alice Mitchell, the gentle mother of Dennis, on the CBS show.Gloria Henry, a B-movie actress of the 1940s and ’50s who became best known as the sunny, preternaturally patient mom on the television series “Dennis the Menace,” died on Saturday at her home in Los Angeles. She was 98.The death was confirmed by her daughter, Erin Ellwood.Ms. Henry was 36 and a veteran of more than two dozen films in 1959 when she was cast as Alice Mitchell, the gentle, tolerant but constantly horrified mother in “Dennis the Menace,” a sitcom based on Hank Ketcham’s popular comic strip. Dennis (played by Jay North) was an angelic little boy on the surface, but every time he tried to help or just do something nice, it somehow backfired. The show ran for four seasons on CBS.Gloria Eileen McEniry was born in New Orleans on April 2, 1923, and attended Worcester Art Museum School in Massachusetts. She moved to Los Angeles in her teens and began working in radio, where she began using the last name Henry.She made her movie debut in the 1947 drama “Sport of Kings,” set in Kentucky horse country. Ms. Henry started at the top in the B-movie genre, starring in the film as a young veterinarian.Over the next three years she appeared in at least 17 films, more often than not in the starring role. A number of her films were westerns, like “Adventures in Silverado” (1948), “Law of the Barbary Coast” (1949) and “Lightning Guns” (1950). In two films — “The Strawberry Roan” (1948) and “Riders in the Sky” (1949) — she starred opposite Gene Autry, getting third billing, after Autry and his horse.She also appeared in several sports comedies, including “Triple Threat” (1948), with Richard Crane, and “Kill the Umpire” (1950), with William Bendix. Her best-known film was probably “Rancho Notorious” (1952), which was directed by Fritz Lang and starred Marlene Dietrich.Once Ms. Henry had made her television debut, in a 1952 episode of “Fireside Theater,” she devoted her career almost exclusively to series TV. Over four decades, on and off, she appeared in shows from “My Little Margie,” “Perry Mason” and “The Life of Riley” to “Dallas,” “Newhart” and “Doogie Howser, M.D.”Her final television appearance was on a 2012 episode of the sitcom “Parks and Recreation.” Ms. Henry’s first marriage, in 1943 to Robert D. Lamb, ended in divorce in 1948. She married Craig Ellwood, the California Modernist architect, in 1949. They divorced in 1977. In addition to her daughter, she is survived by two sons, Jeffrey and Adam, and a granddaughter.Ms. Henry, who kept in touch with Mr. North over the years, often commented on her “Dennis the Menace” character’s amazing restraint with her son. “I wasn’t allowed to yell at Jay North,” she told The Los Angeles Times at a 1989 gathering of actresses who had played famous mothers on television. “It was difficult. Being a normal, in-reality mother, I yelled at my children a lot.” More

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      SAG Awards Go to ‘The Trial of the Chicago 7,’ Chadwick Boseman and Viola Davis

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      Daniel Kaluuya and Yuh-Jung Youn took supporting actor honors. On the TV side, “The Crown” and “Schitt’s Creek” won top honors.Aaron Sorkin’s courtroom drama “The Trial of the Chicago 7” finally notched a significant award-season victory Sunday night, winning the Screen Actors Guild Award for best cast in a motion picture.Over the last decade, five of the films that won SAG’s top prize went on to take the best-picture Oscar, including last year, when a big win for “Parasite” gave it a gust of momentum going into the Academy Awards. After “The Trial of the Chicago 7” lost the Golden Globe for best drama to “Nomadland” and the Writers Guild Award for original screenplay to “Promising Young Woman,” the film’s triumph at the SAG Awards could give it a similar jolt.Two men who’ve been sweeping the season continued to steamroll at SAG: The late Chadwick Boseman won the best-actor award for his work in “Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom,” while “Judas and the Black Messiah” star Daniel Kaluuya won the supporting-actor trophy.The actress and supporting-actress races have been more suspenseful this season, and SAG delivered two notable victories in the form of best-actress winner Viola Davis for “Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom” and “Minari” scene-stealer Yuh-Jung Youn, who won the supporting-actress award.Last year, all four SAG acting winners went on to repeat at the Oscars. If that happens this year, it will be the first time that all the acting Oscars were won by people of color. “Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom” would also become the first film since “As Good as It Gets” (1997) to win both the best-actor and best-actress Oscars — though unlike that film, “Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom” missed out on a best-picture nomination. (“As Good as It Gets” lost that prize to “Titanic.”)In the television categories, “Schitt’s Creek” and “The Crown” continued their award-season dominance, winning the comedy and drama categories, respectively.Here is a complete list of winners:FilmOutstanding Cast: “The Trial of the Chicago 7”Actor in a Leading Role: Chadwick Boseman, “Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom”Actress in a Leading Role: Viola Davis, “Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom”Actress in a Supporting Role: Yuh-Jung Youn, “Minari”Actor in a Supporting Role: Daniel Kaluuya, “Judas and the Black Messiah”Stunt Ensemble in a Movie: “Wonder Woman 1984”TelevisionEnsemble in a Drama Series: “The Crown”Actor in a Drama Series: Jason Bateman, “Ozark”Actress in a Drama Series: Gillian Anderson, “The Crown”Ensemble in a Comedy Series: “Schitt’s Creek”Actor in a Comedy Series: Jason Sudeikis, “Ted Lasso”Actress in a Comedy Series: Catherine O’Hara, “Schitt’s Creek”Actor in a TV movie or limited series: Mark Ruffalo, “I Know This Much Is True”Actress in a TV movie or limited series: Anya Taylor-Joy, “The Queen’s Gambit”Stunt Ensemble in a TV Series: “The Mandalorian” More

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      in Theater

      What Makes ‘Follies’ a Classic? 7 Answers and 1 Big Problem.

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      Fifty years ago, Stephen Sondheim and James Goldman exploded the Broadway “concept” musical by conjuring the bittersweet reunion of aging showgirls.It was supposed to be a murder mystery: two couples, four motives, one gun. What it became was a different kind of mystery entirely: a musical that got prominent pans, alienated much of its audience and lost most of its investment — yet survived.Not only is “Follies,” which opened on Broadway on April 4, 1971, still here 50 years later, trailing a string of revivals, revisals and gala concerts, but it is also now recognized as the high-water mark of the serious “concept” musical, that genre in which form and function are brought into the tightest possible alignment. The score, by Stephen Sondheim, is a marvel and a minefield of layered meanings. The sets make comments. And in the original staging, by Harold Prince and Michael Bennett, even frivolity had to serve a purpose.Not that there was much frivolity in James Goldman’s script; the gun disappeared but the two couples were still floridly dysfunctional. Both wives had been showgirls in the Weismann (think Ziegfeld) Follies at the end of its run of annual extravaganzas in the years between the World Wars. Both had been in love with Ben, a Stage Door Johnny with big ambitions. But Phyllis was smart enough to nab him; they are now wealthy, unhappy sophisticates. Sally — romantic, conventional — got Ben’s feckless pal Buddy; never for one moment in the 30 ensuing years has she been happy with the trade-off.Ghostly showgirls wander through the ruins of a theater in the 2017 London revival.Johan PerssonDuring a Follies reunion at the decrepit Weismann Theater, on the night before it will be razed to make room for a parking lot, the two couples meet up and promptly disintegrate. As they do, their past selves appear alongside them as living characters. At the same time, former stars of the Follies relive memories and stumble through old numbers, magically ventriloquized from Broadway’s past in the Sondheim songs.As the ghosts crowd in, the couples’ tangled history is unearthed, bringing them to the point of a group nervous breakdown in the form of a 30-minute mini-“Follies” of their own. To see them collapse, dissolving into a fantasy world accompanied by a Golden Age score, is to see American optimism collapse along with them.But its big canvas is not the only reason “Follies” remains important. (See seven more reasons, and a caveat, below.) In its seriousness and cleverness, in its matching of style to substance, in its use of a medium to comment on itself, it has hardly ever been bettered. In any case, ambitious musical theater would never be the same; we would not have “Fun Home” or “Hamilton” or “Dear Evan Hansen” without “Follies” hovering behind them, the most beautiful ghost of all.1. A requiem for nostalgiaThe ensemble of older actors with their younger counterparts hovering above in the 2001 Broadway revival.Sara Krulwich/The New York Times “Follies” is about two lousy marriages. Mucking around among their mind games and betrayals, it more readily recalls midcentury drama than anything in the musical canon. (Imagine “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?” staged by Busby Berkeley.) But it’s also about the lousy marriage of American ideals and American reality, a union of near opposites polished and preserved by the shellac of nostalgia.The brilliant concept was to use the two stories to inform each other, letting the Faulknerian past that is “not even past” intrude upon the present. So Sally’s ghost makes love to Ben while his makes love to her; later, she sings a torch song that sounds as if it’s from 1941. The reunion, if it reunifies one couple, destroys another. Even the songs we love are dangerous. That paradox is crystallized in “One More Kiss,” warbled by an ancient Viennese soprano while her younger self casually tosses off its coloratura. “Never look back,” the lyric warns. “Follies” is what happens if you do.2. In praise of older womenThe ghosts of Follies past that live in the theater had to be both ethereal and imposing. Casting was done among Las Vegas showgirls who were already six feet tall before their enormous headdresses turned them into giants. Even so, a Who Was Who of middle-aged and older women stole the show: Dorothy Collins, 44; Mary McCarty, 47; Yvonne De Carlo, 48; Alexis Smith, 49; Fifi D’Orsay, 66; and Ethel Shutta, 74, among them. Though cast for the kick of nostalgia their names elicited, they made survival itself seem vital and sexy, as Smith’s high-stepping Time magazine cover demonstrated.3. Copies that improved on the originalsBernadette Peters performing the now-standard “Losing My Mind” in the 2011 Broadway revival.Sara Krulwich/The New York TimesAll of the performative songs in “Follies” — the ones sung as if they were real numbers from the past — are pastiches, sampling Harold Arlen (“I’m Still Here”), George Gershwin (“Losing My Mind”), Irving Berlin (“Beautiful Girls”), Sigmund Romberg (“One More Kiss”) and many others. With this catch: In almost every case, they are better crafted and richer than their templates. Which makes their salute to the past a wonderfully complicated, and sometimes cruel, gesture.4. A number for the agesTerri White, center, as Stella Deems leading “Who’s That Woman” in 2011 with (from left) Elaine Paige, Florence Lacey, Colleen Fitzpatrick, Jan Maxwell, Peters and Susan Watson.Sara Krulwich/The New York TimesStella Deems, an old-school belter, had a specialty “mirror” number in the Follies. Now, at the reunion, she and six alumnae of the chorus line, including Phyllis and Sally, try to perform it, even though the dance (as one of them puts it) “winded me when I was 19.” Soon you see why, as the choreography, which at first involves simple poses and mirroring gestures, turns into an exhausting tap extravaganza, courtesy of Bennett. But the mindblower comes halfway through, when strange shards of spinning light emerge from the dark behind the panting, middle-aged women. These are the ghosts of their former selves: glamazons in mirror-encrusted costumes performing the number tirelessly and perfectly.By the time the real and the remembered choruses merge in a thrilling finale, the idea of mirroring has taken on a larger meaning. “Lord, Lord, Lord, Lord, Lord!” Stella sings in wonder and horror at the person she sees in her looking glass. “That woman is me!”5. ‘I’m Still Here’De Carlo — a movie star of the ’40s and ’50s but Lily Munster to everyone thereafter — had the biggest name in the cast yet one of the smallest roles. She needed a showstopper; the one Sondheim originally wrote wasn’t working. During tryouts in Boston, he replaced it with “I’m Still Here,” a five-minute number that catalogs with tart good spirits a showbiz life (based on Joan Crawford’s) in which you “career from career to career.” It could not have been staged more simply: De Carlo basically just stood downstage and let it rip. Still, it was (and remains, in the many interpretations since) a knockout, driving home the point that long-term professional survival, and maybe emotional survival as well, is often a matter of inoculating oneself with failure.6. The fabulousnessAt $800,000, “Follies” was a very expensive show for its time, but you saw where the money went. Boris Aronson’s set, which exploded into lace and froufrou for the final sequence, was technically complex; Florence Klotz’s costumes were among the most sumptuous seen on a Broadway stage since Ziegfeld himself. And with all the major roles doubled by “ghosts,” the cast was huge: 47 performers, not including understudies and standbys.“Nearly everything that could cause a Broadway musical to go over budget did,” says Ted Chapin, now the president of the Rodgers and Hammerstein Organization but then Prince’s apprentice — and the author of “Everything Was Possible,” a memoir of that experience. “If it were produced today, I would imagine it would log in at close to $30 million.” Alas, that’s a sum no one would spend on such a chancy show, which means we’ll never see its like again.7. That posterDavid Edward Byrd designed the poster for the original production.PhotofestIn 1971, the graphic artist David Edward Byrd was best known for his rock posters, including one for the original Woodstock and one for Jimi Hendrix. But he’d started designing for theatrical productions as well, and when an “aesthetic argument” led Prince to ditch one of his Art Deco-inspired sketches, Byrd came up with the now-famous face of “Follies”: an impassive beauty with flowing Technicolor hair and a branching crack from chin to brow. (The face was based on Marlene Dietrich’s, in a photo from “Shanghai Express.”) To Byrd, it represented the end of an era, but it also conveyed, with powerful concision, the crackup of an American fantasy of endless tranquillity. And, not incidentally, made a Broadway show seem as cool as Woodstock.8. Then again …“Follies” is brilliant and “Follies” is a mess. It bowls me over perhaps more than any other musical, yet I have never been fully satisfied with it intellectually. Look beneath the unparalleled packaging — the score, costumes, casting, staging — and you find a lot that doesn’t add up. As Frank Rich noted in his 1971 Harvard Crimson review, it’s “a musical about the death of the musical” — a wonderful paradox but one that undermines the experience. If musicals are dead … is this one too?Sometimes — even when Carlotta sings “I’m Still Here” — the vaunted concept seems a bit opaque. (If it’s about her own life, how could it also be her Follies number?) And don’t look too closely at the main characters, either; spouters of self-conscious dialogue, they are only fully believable when they sing. For that, Goldman usually gets the blame — but if so, he should also get credit for providing the armature for everyone else’s epochal achievement. It may be about the death of musicals, but “Follies” pointed the way to bringing them back to life. More

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      in Movies

      How ‘Sound of Metal’ Star Paul Raci Went From Day Jobs to Oscar Nominee

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      After decades of struggle, the 72-year-old actor finally found his breakthrough playing a deaf Vietnam vet with addiction issues — a role with parallels to his own life.It’s been a long time coming for Paul Raci, who just earned his first Oscar nomination at age 72.“To be an actor for all these years — 40 years of just knocking around — and then to have this kind of acclaim, it’s insane, man,” Raci said recently in the backyard of his Burbank home.For most of his career, Raci has had to make do with one- or two-line roles in TV shows like “Parks and Recreation” and “Baskets.” Then the “Sound of Metal” director Darius Marder plucked Raci from obscurity and handed him the part of a lifetime: Joe, the stoic but sensitive leader of a sober-living community for deaf people who takes in a troubled punk-metal drummer, Ruben (Riz Ahmed).It’s a role with real-life resonance for Raci, who grew up in Chicago as a CODA — a child of deaf adults — and, like Joe, dealt with addiction issues after serving in Vietnam. “I always say I went into Vietnam like John Wayne, and I came out Lenny Bruce,” Raci said.A lifetime spent as his parents’ hearing interpreter had instilled in Raci a love for performance, but when he moved to Los Angeles decades ago to pursue an acting career, roles were scarce. “I’ve been doing this a long time and I’ve always known what I was capable of, but nothing was happening for me out here,” he said.Still, Raci kept plugging away, working by day as a sign-language interpreter in the Los Angeles County Superior Court system and, at night, continuing to hone his craft in stage productions at the Deaf West Theater. “I would always think to myself, ‘I must be so specific that there’s nothing around here for me,” said Raci, who is small and wiry with tattoos and rocker-length hair. “I thought, ‘I’ve got to wait for that specific role.’” And then it finally came.These are edited excerpts from our conversation.Raci as a sober-community leader in “Sound of Metal,” starring Riz Ahmed and Olivia Cooke.Amazon StudiosWhat was the morning of the Oscar nominations like for you?Well, I don’t have an alarm clock — I have a head clock, and for some reason it was unplugged that morning. I was supposed to get up at 5 a.m., and at 5:25 a.m., my wife and I got up: “Oh, we missed it!” We run in the living room, turn on the TV and just as it came up, they were on the second guy from the supporting-actor category. And then [presenter Priyanka Chopra Jonas] goes, “And Paul Rah-ci.” I said, “No, it’s Ray-ci … and I accept!”So now it’s 5:30 in the morning, my phone starts ringing. People are showing up with wine, they’re showing up with edibles — not the kind you’re thinking about, but fruit covered with chocolate, and cupcakes. My friend Hillary, she brings over a bottle of champagne — I said, “It’s six o’clock, Hillary!” My wife is crying, my daughter is crying. It stayed like that all day long, so it was quite exciting.And what was it like after the dust settled?Six days later, I looked at my wife and I said, “Did this really happen?” But if I had to wait this long for this moment, it’s worth it, man. A very good friend emailed me two days ago and said, “Paul, this is not just a supporting-actor nomination, this is a lifetime achievement award.” I hadn’t thought of it that way, but I got a lot of work left to do here. I think this thing has added 20 years to my life.For decades, you had been doing day-player work in movies and television. How did you make those kinds of roles feel worthwhile?To be honest, it’s more of a detriment than anything, because it just shows you what an abysmal failure you are in your own head. I mean, I wasn’t able to get a series-regular audition or to even get in the room because, “They need a name.” Thank God for Deaf West Theater — if it wasn’t for them, where the hell else was I going to exercise my acting chops? I had nothing. But you go from gig to gig and hope that something’s going to happen.So how did it finally happen? When you auditioned to play Joe in “Sound of Metal,” did you have an inkling that this time might be different?I put it on tape, sent it in and then forgot about it — because listen, this never happens for me. When I leave an audition with the sides [script pages] in my hand, I rip them up, throw it in the garbage. I’m not going to dwell on stuff that’s going to break my heart. But my wife, who’s my agent, called the casting directing office and said, “Have you seen Paul’s tape?”At that point, they said: “We’re inundated with tapes. We’ve got too many that we can’t even find Paul’s tape, and we’re probably going to go with a name.” Robert Duvall, Forest Whitaker, that’s what they were looking for, name-wise. My audition tape was fairly strong, and my wife said, “Please, look for it.” Ten minutes later, the phone rings. The casting office goes, “Darius wants to talk to Paul.” A week later, he drove down to meet me and we talked and talked.A friend told Raci to consider his nomination a lifetime achievement award: “I hadn’t thought of it that way, but I got a lot of work left to do here.”Michelle Groskopf for The New York TimesIt must be great to have a wife who fights for you in that regard.Listen, she’s been a small-time agent here for over 20 years, trying to compete with CAA and ICM. She has a boutique agency and she said, “I’m not going to close it until you’re a star, Paul.” She was always fighting to get me in a room, and it never happened. My mind-set was so stuck in rejection that even at the end of my conversation with Darius, I said, “Hold on a second, are you actually offering me the role?” He said, “Yes, I am.” But at first, I told them I wasn’t going to do the movie.Why not?Look, I got a house to pay for here. This is not the big movie I thought it was — it was a very small budget, and I could make more money staying here in L.A. and working in the court system than what they were offering me. I’m going to go all the way over there [around Boston] for something that’s going to put me in the hole? I can’t afford that — I don’t even have health insurance for my family. So I said to my wife, “Tell Darius I’m not interested.”Really? That takes guts.Well, it looked like a pretty good movie, but I’m a blue-collar guy like my dad and I’ve got to pay my bills. Then Darius calls me: “You can’t do this! You don’t understand what this means.” So they kind of bumped up my per diem. He was so flexible with me, and I knew his heart was in the right place — he was so respectful to my point of view, to my CODA experience, that I felt like I could trust him.After subsisting for so long on these minor roles, how did it feel to play out such long scenes opposite Riz Ahmed?Wonderful. Fulfilling. I’ve had many of those moments in a 99-seat theater, but to be able to have this captured on film is incredible to me. And to be a scene partner with somebody with Riz’s brilliance is a dream come true. In our very first scene, when he’s sitting across from me and I say, “So, how are you doing,” he’s in so much pain and he just sits there, taking a very long moment. And that was real! He just breaks my heart.I’m forever grateful to Riz Ahmed — I don’t know if I could have done it with another actor, because it was so intense. In our last scene together, I looked over in the periphery of my eye when they called “Cut,” and Darius Marder was standing there just weeping.“You go from gig to gig and hope that something’s going to happen,” Raci said.Michelle Groskopf for The New York TimesThough you’re a child of deaf adults, you’re also a hearing person. Is there a case to be made that Joe should have been played by someone who is deaf or hard of hearing?That’s an argument that some would make in the deaf community, yes. However, I would argue back, because I’m a CODA and you cannot take me out of this culture that I was brought up in. I would never take a deaf role from a deaf actor who is culturally deaf, but Joe is a guy who was late-deafened.I’m sensitive to it, and I vetted it before we went ahead. I asked Darius in the beginning, “I don’t feel comfortable having this guy be deaf. Can’t you make the guy a CODA?” He said, “That’s interesting. Let me get back to you.” He had three deaf advisers on the set, and all three told Darius, “No, it’s more compelling to have him be deafened,” to have that parallel line between Ruben and Joe, which you feel so strongly.The beautiful thing about it is I’m hooked into [“Sound of Metal” distributor] Amazon right now, and they’re coming to me and asking for content. I have other things I’ve written, I have other deaf writers I know of, and because of this connection, I think some doors are going to be kicked down, because people are interested in what I have to say right now.Have you figured out what your next project will be?Listen, I have “Team Paul” now. I’ve got a management team, I’ve got an entertainment lawyer, and Team Paul is now advising me that I have to be very careful with the next role I take. I’ve been offered — honest to God — about eight, nine, 10 things. And I’ve never been offered anything ever! I can’t wait to get started working again, but I’m going to have to be a little selective and there’s nothing wrong with that.Are any career goals now in sight?I love Bill Murray, he’s the same age as me. I don’t want to take any roles away from Bill, but I certainly would like to act with that guy. I used to fantasize and meditate on things like that, things I thought were too good to be true, because for many years my prayer has always been, “Nothing is too good to believe in. It can happen.” Even though there was a part of me didn’t even believe that, the prayer believed in me and lifted me up. You’ve got to just persevere, even when the believing isn’t in you. If it’s true for me, it’s true for everybody. More