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    10 Performances That Pushed Emotional Limits

    For our critic-at-large, the year was marked by the Black excellence of “Purlie Victorious,” the brutality of “Bottoms” and rage of “Beef.”For me, 2023 was a year of entertainment that captured people pushed to their emotional limits, whether that was the rage of two bitter enemies, the desperation of a widow who only sees a future of annihilation or the pent-up aggression of a bunch of high school girls. But it was also a year of colorful, funny and biting Black stories on stages. Throw in a dancing goth, a freshly single New York City fashionista and a chronicle of a dying band, and you’ve got my top picks for everything that tickled my fancy in the past year across theater, film and TV.‘Swing State’Call me a masochist, but what I most loved about Rebecca Gilman’s devastating play was that it tapped into multiple registers of despair: individual, communal, ecological. Peg, a widow living on a prairie in Wisconsin, is nursing concerns about endangered animals and environmental catastrophe, and how everything is leading us to an uninhabitable planet. But alongside Peg’s global anxieties are a host of much more intimate sorrows — grief for her husband, a sense of hopelessness, and isolation — that are driving her to consider suicide. Gilman’s script offers black humor, suspense and a crushing ending. And the empathetic direction, by Robert Falls, of a stellar cast led by Mary Beth Fisher and Bubba Weiler, provides a sense of existential urgency to every minute. (Read our review of “Swing State.”)‘Purlie Victorious’From left: Billy Eugene Jones, Kara Young, Leslie Odom Jr. and Jay O. Sanders in “Purlie Victorious.” Sara Krulwich/The New York TimesAt the end of this Ossie Davis play, our hero, Purlie Victorious (a larger-than-life Leslie Odom Jr.), heartily declares, “I find, in being Black, a thing of beauty: a joy, a strength, a secret cup of gladness.” I nearly cried at this ecstatic celebration of Blackness, because this Broadway production, cleverly directed by Kenny Leon, was itself a prime example of Black excellence. As hilarious as it is biting, “Purlie Victorious” follows Purlie’s scheme to reclaim the inheritance owed to his family in the Jim Crow South. Kara Young, as Purlie’s love interest — the uniquely named Lutiebelle Gussie Mae Jenkins — proves she can carry off a fearless comedic performance on par with her dramatic roles. (Read our review of “Purlie Victorious.”)‘Jaja’s African Hair Braiding’Even if the hairstyles in this play weren’t as fabulous as they were, Jocelyn Bioh’s “Jaja’s African Hair Braiding,” about a day in the life of African immigrants working in a Harlem hair-braiding shop, would still be a sparkling Broadway delight. That’s thanks to Bioh’s colorful characters and brisk, playful dialogue. Whitney White’s direction provided extra spark, and the production’s re-creation of real braid hairstyles and salon culture felt novel; it’s not often that Black spaces are so lovingly portrayed, or portrayed at all, on Broadway. (Read our review of “Jaja’s African Hair Braiding.”)‘Stereophonic’Earlier this year, after guiltily binging the soapy Amazon Prime series “Daisy Jones & the Six,” I wondered what a better version of this narrative — the band drama full of drugs, sex and music that’s kinda-but-not-really about Fleetwood Mac — would look like. I didn’t know until I saw David Adjmi’s “Stereophonic,” which kept me fully engaged through its full three-hour running time. The central band’s journey to celebrity then collapse, the addictions, the toxic relationships — the bones of the material are the same, but “Stereophonic” is unique in the way it uses music to do some of the storytelling. Entirely diegetic, the songs aren’t used for exposition or ornamentation; they exist as products in themselves, which we hear in different incarnations, in different parts, sometimes several times before we hear the final version. We learn about the characters through the parts they play in making and performing this music — which, by the way, is amazing, and written by Will Butler, formerly of Arcade Fire. The cast is flawless, and the production is so meticulously composed, including David Zinn’s stunning set and Ryan Rumery’s explosive sound design, that it feels like you’re actually being ushered into this world of Billboard hits, giant bags of cocaine and ego-driven rock stars. I can’t wait to see it again. (Read our review of “Stereophonic.”)‘Flex’There are a lot of reasons I liked this Lincoln Center Theater production about a high school basketball team, but one of them was, to my surprise, more a feat of athleticism than of drama. Throughout the performance I went to, Starra, the team’s talented, headstrong captain played by Erica Matthews, never missed a shot to the basket set above the stage at the Mitzi E. Newhouse. A story about the clash of beliefs, personalities, priorities and ambitions among these girls in lower-class, rural Arkansas, “Flex” was a win in all respects, from Candrice Jones’s engaging script to Lileana Blain-Cruz’s dynamic direction to the strong cast. I’m no fan of team sports, and in any other context would find taking the role of basketball spectator tedious; but, even if for only two hours, “Flex” transformed me into a fan. (Read our review of “Flex.”)‘Bottoms’Rachel Sennott and Ayo Edebiri in “Bottoms.”Orion PicturesI loved the chaos of this weird, perversely satisfying film about two unpopular high school students who start a girls’ fight club with the ultimate goal of losing their virginity. Rachel Sennott, who delivered a panic-inducing performance in “Shiva Baby,” plays the similarly unstable and unpredictable PJ, opposite Ayo Edebiri’s adorably dweeby Josie. “Bottoms” has a brutal sense of humor that gleefully spirals into a violent finale I won’t forget anytime soon. (Read our review of “Bottoms.”)‘Beef’The only reason I didn’t ravenously consume this phenomenal Netflix series in one go was that “Beef” was so effective in its storytelling, performances and direction that every episode felt staggering, but in the best way. It would have been so easy for this series, about the way rage rips apart and connects the lives of two unhappy strangers (played by Ali Wong and Steven Yeun), to stay in one lane and offer us 10 straight-up comedic episodes of steadily escalating acts of sabotage and retribution. But “Beef” also offers up pathos and humanity, getting to the brokenness underneath its characters’ rage without forgiving or dismissing their most heinous actions. Wong and Yeun are stellar in every scene, and beautifully navigate the chaotic turns of the script. (Read our review of “Beef.”)‘Primary Trust’A story about a grown man named Kenneth (William Jackson Harper) with no family living a quaint, routine small-town life with his imaginary best friend, “Primary Trust” was one of those shows that left me practically clutching my chest with feeling by the end. Harper delivered one of the finest, most exacting performances I saw this year; his Kenneth was delicate but not fragile. A contemporary fable about alienation, loneliness and facing the wild unknowns of adult life, “Primary Trust” felt cathartic, especially given how quarantines and six-foot distances changed many people’s understanding of isolation. (Read our review of “Primary Trust.”)‘Survival of the Thickest’The actress-comedian Michelle Buteau has so much charm that it seems to radiate from the TV. She exudes a playful energy and has a deep pocket of grand, larger-than-life facial reactions that serve punchlines without her even saying a word. So watching “Survival of the Thickest,” her bright, stylish confection of a sitcom on Netflix, feels like a soul-affirming treat. Buteau stars as Mavis Beaumont, a personal stylist forced to re-evaluate her relationship, home and career when she catches her longtime boyfriend cheating. Mavis starts at square one, moving into a tiny apartment with an eccentric New York City roommate and building her brand from the ground up. A little awkward, a bit misguided but full of heart, brains, talent and personality — and also, let’s not forget, style — Mavis is infinitely relatable, and, importantly, a Black full-figured heroine with supportive and snarky Black friends. In other words, she feels real.‘Wednesday’Jenna Ortega in “Wednesday.”NetflixWhen it comes to gothic, sexy teen revamps of old franchises, like “Riverdale” and “Chilling Adventures of Sabrina,” I’m often turned off by the baroque plots, aesthetic preening and self-conscious … well, adolescence of it all. “Wednesday” is a delightful exception, in part because the Addams daughter did goth before it was cool. (And it doesn’t hurt that the director, Tim Burton, has been the goth king of filmmaking for decades.) The show strikes the perfect balance between juicy teen dramedy and ghoulish supernatural thriller, with Jenna Ortega starring as the ever-dour and ever-surprising young mistress of darkness. Her performance delivers flashes of color behind Wednesday’s signature dead eyes and deadpan mannerisms; she manages to carry off a character with a sociopathic disconnect from the world around her and yet still make her the charming antiheroine. And I’m still waiting for anything to come along that I enjoyed as much as Wednesday’s dance in Episode 4. (Read our review of “Wednesday.”) More

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    How “Bottoms” Reinvents the Coming-of-Age Fight Scene

    The hero vs. bully template made famous in the ’80s gets subverted in this indie comedy, as well as in Hulu’s “Miguel Wants to Fight.”The director Emma Seligman narrates a sequence from “Bottoms,” featuring Rachel Sennott and Ayo Edebiri.Orion Pictures Inc.You know the setup: one boy, the underdog, is forced to face off with a boy with more social clout — and, likely, more muscles. They’re in the gym, the hallway, or the schoolyard, and by the time the last punch is thrown, the underdog, our hero, has taken his first steps into manhood.For decades the school scrap was a prevailing coming-of-age trope in movies and TV. The ’80s produced some of the most memorable scenes, whether it was Clifford versus Moody in “My Bodyguard” or Ralphie versus Scut in “A Christmas Story.” Then in 1993, Richard Linklater gave us the memorable freshmen versus the paddle-swinging Fred O’Bannion and his cohort of sadistic seniors in “Dazed and Confused”; and in 2002, Sam Raimi offered Peter Parker decking Flash Thomspon in high school. Even SpongeBob has found himself caught in a boating school scuffle with a classmate.But teen brawling onscreen has since evolved to becoming more than just a metaphor for boys at the cusp of adulthood learning to assert their masculinity. Nowhere is this more apparent than in the queer sex comedy “Bottoms,” which de-genders and subverts the boorish maleness of the school tussle as a male developmental milestone, ultimately making it about young women asserting their identities and pushing back against convention.PJ and Josie are best friends who start a female fight club at their high school, with the goal of losing their virginity to two popular cheerleaders. The entire premise of this delightfully absurd offbeat comedy is predicated on two young women using a narrative often tied to masculinity to their advantage. PJ specifically models the concept of the extracurricular on “Fight Club,” which also works as a meta-commentary: The girls in “Bottoms” are flipping gender in the same way “Bottoms” itself is reworking the testosterone-pumped, fist-bumping, male-targeted genre of fight movies like that much-worshipped film. (“I love David Fincher,” one of the girls gushes about the “Fight Club” director in passing as she walks into the first club meeting.)Rachel Sennott, Havana Rose Liu and Ayo Edebiri in “Bottoms.”Orion PicturesWhereas that Brad Pitt vehicle rewards the savagery of its virile men with sex, violence and destruction, their aggression brimming with homoerotic undertones, “Bottoms” offers its girls the same gratification, but with more comedy and explicit queerness.PJ and Josie take male posturing to the extreme, capitalizing on a rumor about their being hardened juvenile delinquents. Even when it seems they’ll be called on their bluff, they double down, as when, early in their charade, PJ goads Josie into punching her in front of the group of their peers and Josie ends up on the floor smiling, blood streaking down her chin. The girls’ popularity soars. So does their self-confidence. Somehow, these girls aimlessly bruise and bloody one another into a sense of camaraderie, even newfound strength.The movie’s wry gender subversions extend to its ridiculous depiction of PJ and Josie’s male peers, specifically the jocks, who spend the entire movie in their football uniforms. Despite these guys wearing the armor of masculine dude-bros — literally, protective shoulder pads included — “Bottoms” often makes them effeminate. They fit more squarely into a misogynist’s stereotype of women: They’re petty, sensitive, underhanded and, ultimately, the ones who need saving by the end of the movie. (The one notable exception is an example of the opposite extreme, masculinity gone wild in the form of a feral male student who spends his school days locked in a cage.)Tyler Dean Flores in “Miguel Wants to Fight.”Brett Roedel/HuluAnother recent film, “Miguel Wants to Fight,” on Hulu, also pokes holes in displays of violent masculinity, albeit with less of a payoff. Miguel is a teenage boy who also doesn’t really meet the criteria for the uber-masculine Tyler Durden type. He lives in a neighborhood where fighting is everything: Kids get into brawls on the regular, and guys who dominate in the boxing ring are revered as local heroes. Despite all this, and the fact that his father is a boxing coach, Miguel is the only one of his friends who hasn’t been in a fight. When Miguel learns his family’s moving in a week, he decides he must get into a fight before he leaves.But Miguel hesitates on the sidelines as his three buddies come to blows with another group of peers. The one scuffle he gets into involves more awkward embraces than punches. Miguel is more apt to make friends with an opponent than fight them. Even his fantasy fight sequences, in which he imagines himself as the star of his own anime or martial arts movie, sometimes end with him emasculated. In one, he wears a yellow tracksuit like Bruce Lee’s in “Game of Death” as he faces off against a bully; even after Miguel lands a strike the bully simply laughs and asks why he’s “dressed like the chick from ‘Kill Bill.’”Instead of framing the fight as Miguel’s great hurdle to self-assurance and maturity, the movie shows how Miguel’s obsession with fighting is misguided, just a distraction from the anxiety and sorrow he feels about moving away from his friends. The pressure Miguel puts on himself is all internal; he thinks his father wants a fighter son when his father just wants him to be happy and safe. Every fight scenario either causes Miguel embarrassment or ends with him selfishly alienating his friends. And when Miguel does finally get into a fight, it’s not the heroic, cinematic experience he imagined. In fact, he says to his buddy, “It sucked,” throwing in an expletive for good measure.This is the ultimate subversion that the two films pull off: While “Bottoms” ends with its female protagonists getting into a massive, bloody gladiator-esque battle and reigning victorious, the coming-of-age movie that’s actually about a boy getting into a fight ends with a 36-second tussle and a sweet reconciliation between bros.So perhaps that old saying is wrong: Fighting is sometimes the answer. It just depends on who’s throwing the punches — and what’s at stake. More

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    Popcast (Deluxe): ‘Bottoms,’ ‘Hard Knocks’ & Uncovering Rap History

    Subscribe to Popcast!Apple Podcasts | Spotify | Stitcher | Amazon MusicThis week’s episode of Popcast (Deluxe), the weekly culture roundup show on YouTube hosted by Jon Caramanica and Joe Coscarelli, includes segments on:The queer teen horror-comedy “Bottoms,” the second film from Emma Seligman, which stars Ayo Edibiri and Rachell Sennott, and sends up both teen raunch comedies of the 1980s and 2000s as well as conventional coming-of-age stories. Also discussed: the links between “Bottoms” and the summer blockbuster “Barbie,” and also the Netflix Sandler-family vehicle “You Are So Not Invited to My Bat Mitzvah.”The summer in reality television, including “Hip Hop Treasures,” “Hard Knocks: Training Camp with the New York Jets,” and the social media storytelling that’s accompanied Deion Sanders’s arrival as coach of the football team at University of Colorado Boulder.Recent books about hip-hop mixtapes and fashionCaroline Calloway’s “Scammer,” which turns several waves of viral infamy into a feisty memoirSnack of the weekConnect With Popcast. Become a part of the Popcast community: Join the show’s Facebook group and Discord channel. We want to hear from you! Tune in, and tell us what you think at popcast@nytimes.com. Follow our host, Jon Caramanica, on Twitter: @joncaramanica. More

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    ‘Bottoms’ and the Tricky Tone of a Horror-Indie-Drama-Action-Teen-Sex Comedy

    The director Emma Seligman took a big leap from her buzzy feature debut, “Shiva Baby.” But this is the film she wanted to make all along.In “Bottoms,” a pair of teenagers start a fight club in their high school gym. The twist: The pugilists are lesbians, and they are whaling on each other — in the guise of self-defense — as a way to attract the hottest cheerleaders. (It’s a satire on many levels.)The writer-director Emma Seligman had the idea and sold the script — to Elizabeth Banks’s production company — even before her feature debut, “Shiva Baby,” put her on the indie filmmaker map in 2021.“I really love teen adventure movies,” Seligman said in a phone interview, “and giving queer kids the chance to be in that story.”Seligman, 28, grew up in Toronto in a family of film buffs. “Everyone here is always just talking about movies,” she said. By 10, she was a judge at a children’s film festival; later she got involved with the Toronto International Film Festival. She studied the subject at New York University, where she met the two stars of “Bottoms” — Rachel Sennott (who co-wrote the film) and Ayo Edebiri, a breakout actress from “The Bear.” (Seligman has an eye for talent: “Bottoms” also features Nicholas Galitzine, of “Red, White & Royal Blue,” as a quarterback boyfriend; and the former N.F.L. player Marshawn Lynch as a teacher with questionable methods.)“Shiva Baby,” about a young woman who encounters her sugar daddy at a shiva, was based on Seligman’s experience of Jewish life and on her college milieu. “I went on one sugar date,” she said. “Not everyone was doing it, but so many people were doing it to the point where it was so normal.” (It wasn’t ultimately her thing.) “Bottoms,” though it exists in a heightened world, is also personal. “It’s just wanting to see yourself,” said Seligman, who is gay. As she recalled Banks telling her: “You can’t underestimate how much young people want to see themselves onscreen.”These are edited excerpts from the conversation.“Shiva Baby” had a small cast and essentially one set. “Bottoms” has an ensemble and multiple locations. How did you prepare to scale up?The jump was quite challenging. I knew there were going to be a million and one lessons I was going to have to learn, but I just didn’t know what they were going to be. It’s like knowing you’re about to get hazed but not knowing how.I tried to have conversations with as many directors as I could to get their advice — Adam McKay, Greg Berlanti, who directed “Love, Simon,” and Atom Egoyan. It was helpful, but most of them were like, “You’re not going to know until you’re just doing it.” I went to [Elizabeth Banks’s] house before we shot, and we talked about costume and hair and improv — it wasn’t her giving didactic advice. It was me asking: “As a director, how do you prepare to do this?” And everyone was like, stop asking questions. Stop getting in your head.Edebiri and Sennott in “Bottoms.” Seligman said she “wanted to satirize the way female friendship is often shoved down our throats onscreen with teen girls.”via Orion Pictures IncRachel Sennott has starred in both your films. What clicked with you two?Neither of us were in the industry or came from industry families. Her level of ambition and organization and her intense work ethic was really inspiring. It’s a wild thing to be like, “I’m going to devote all this time to writing two screenplays, when there’s nothing in the world telling me that this will work out.” Her energy was: “It’s not crazy, we will do it, and we will make a living.” It’s rare for someone to want to see you succeed as much as they want themselves to succeed.How did you envision Ayo Edebiri in this role?I met Ayo at a party before I met Rachel. I had a vague idea of “Bottoms” in my head. And I was like, “Oh, if I ever made that high school movie, that girl would be so funny in it.” It’s been really incredible to watch her grow into the success that she’s become. It’s not a surprise at all to me, but I feel a little bit like I have street cred because I’m like, “Yeah, I knew.” She’s just so funny. We finished “Bottoms,” and “The Bear” came out a month later and her world changed.Where did you want to focus your satire?The way queer teen characters are always so innocent in teen movies. Whether they’re being traumatized or finding love, they’re so sweet and often don’t have any sexual thoughts at all — or if they do, they’re not expressing it, or they’re not talking in a vulgar way. And we also wanted to satirize the way female friendship is often shoved down our throats onscreen with teen girls — characters that are like, “I love you, queen! You’re the best thing ever!” We wanted to make fun of that.“Bottoms” builds on a lot of the teen movie canon, starting with “Heathers.” What else did you use as a reference?We pulled from that era of the ’90s — I guess “Heathers” is the ’80s — but that kind of female, campy, driven, high school and murder [comedy].“Bring It On” was a big reference. That movie strikes such a beautiful tone of campiness while caring deeply about the characters — it’s right on the edge. “Pen15,” definitely — looking at the show about this beautiful female friendship, that was so ridiculous and stupid at the same time, and so relatable. That came out right around when we started writing. “Wet Hot American Summer” was a big one. There’s not murder in that. But they do get addicted to heroin for the day. And Liz is in it, which is also great.How did you find the right tone?It took a long time to figure that out. I don’t think Rachel and I originally intended to have the audience care about the characters that much. We actually felt like in female comedy, there’s too much stress on, “Care about these girls” and “Care about the friendship.” We wanted to give the female characters a chance to be so [terrible] that you’re not supposed to care about them at all. But I think over the years, as we would get notes from our producers or the studio, we let up a little bit.I really think tone is always the trickiest thing to master. And I would love one day to do a movie that’s just one genre, to see if it’s any easier than a horror-indie-dramedy-action-teen-sex-comedy, or whatever we did. More

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    ‘Bottoms’ Review: Physical Education

    In this buddy comedy, senior outcasts played by Rachel Sennott and Ayo Edebiri attempt to woo two cheerleaders through a fight club.Josie and PJ are high school seniors, and they have some pressing unfinished business. “Do you want to be the only girl virgin at Sarah Lawrence?” PJ (Rachel Sennott) asks Josie (Ayo Edebiri) during the dark-night-of-the-soul conversation that begins “Bottoms.” Yes, Emma Seligman’s comedy takes off with tires screeching.It is imperative for our buddies to have sex, stat, but that is a complicated proposition: Not only are they unpopular outcasts — “the ugly, untalented gays,” as opposed to the ones who breezily sashay down the hallways — but they have set their sights on two unapproachably hot cheerleaders. It is obvious that PJ and Josie will need some devious scheming to win over their crushes.Going along with a rumor that they’ve spent time in juvenile detention, the pair acquire an instant reputation as tough girls and the school lets them start a self-defense club in which the most vicious brawls are somehow allowed. Even Josie’s object of desire, Isabel (Havana Rose Liu), is impressed by consciousness-raising through punching, even more so after she learns her quarterback boyfriend (Nicholas Galitzine, of “Red, White & Royal Blue”) is cheating on her.Seligman and Sennott’s first collaboration was the quietly unsettling “Shiva Baby” (2021), which took place almost entirely over the span of one afternoon at the title wake, and progressively ensnared Sennott’s character in a web of deadpan, discomforting humor. For their follow-up, the collaborators (Sennott wrote the movie with Seligman) have gone down a completely different stylistic road, putting a queer spin on teenage sex comedies à la “Superbad” and “American Pie.” They have replaced the death by a thousand cuts of “Shiva Baby” with a gleeful broadness. It ultimately fizzes out, but “Bottoms” confirms that Seligman and Sennott are major new forces in American comedy.A lot does click here, including several delicious supporting performances, most notably the former N.F.L. running back Marshawn Lynch as the fight club’s loopy faculty adviser and Ruby Cruz as Hazel, a cool classmate whom, naturally, PJ does not even see. The script also lands many corkers, as when a student named Annie (Zamani Wilder) complains “this is the second wave all over again” after realizing PJ and Josie were prioritizing self-serving goals over sisterhood.That last aspect is what feels most undernourished and, in the end, unexpectedly timid. Not much is made of the fact that PJ is one of the biggest liars and bullies of the story and uses her gift of gab to cynically deploy empowerment messaging. And while the movie is set in a surreally heightened universe in which football players never leave their uniform and teachers read girlie magazines in class, it is oddly more comfortable goofing off with outrageous violence than elementary sexuality.For most of its tight running time, “Bottoms” hovers on the cusp of greatness. It’s often funny but it also never delivers satisfying set pieces, and stops short of questioning — not to mention subverting — the warped high school stratification that remains one of America’s building blocks.BottomsRated R for typical teen language, fight-club violence and football run amok. Running time: 1 hour 28 minutes. In theaters. More