More stories

  • in

    On ‘S.N.L.’, Bad Bunny and Scarlett Johansson Have a Couples’ Feud

    This weekend’s broadcast, hosted by Scarlett Johansson and featuring the musical guest Bad Bunny, began with a sendup of President Trump’s recent visit to Saudi Arabia and Qatar.There was only one way for the final episode of the milestone 50th season of “Saturday Night Live” to begin: with Lorne Michaels announcing that his chosen successor will be — nah, come on, it was another sketch with James Austin Johnson playing President Trump.This weekend’s broadcast, hosted by Scarlett Johansson and featuring the musical guest Bad Bunny, began with a sendup of President Trump’s recent visit to the Middle East.Sharing the stage with Emil Wakim (who was playing Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman of Saudi Arabia), Johnson said that he’d been enjoying their meals together, “sitting on the floor, dipping our fingers straight into various goops and spreads that I politely scrape under the rug and go eat at a mobile McDonald’s that you built for me.”He added that he was a “big fan of everything that Saudi Arabia has to offer, from the oil to the money to end of list.”Johnson vowed that he didn’t make this trip for his own benefit. “I want to make that clear,” he said. “I did this for the American people and, in many ways, myself. My personal enrichment. I did that too.”We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

  • in

    Sympathy for the Devil, er Boss: In ‘The Studio,’ the Powerful Are on Defense

    Seth Rogen’s cringe-y Hollywood honcho is well-intentioned but ineffectual. The actor’s awkward laugh has never been put to better use.Matt Remick desperately wants to be considered important. His problem is that he’s recently become a Hollywood mogul, which is like getting a job as a DEI consultant right now. The timing’s not great.This week, in the best episode of the debut season of the fizzy Apple TV+ series “The Studio,” Remick, played with impeccable neediness by Seth Rogen, arrives at the Golden Globes full of anticipation, only to be disappointed to find influencers taking selfies, instead of famous actors wanting to talk to him. Pushed aside by Charli D’Amelio, he strikes a weary tone: “I remember when the red carpet of the Golden Globes actually stood for something.”It’s a wonderfully dry and absurd joke, treating the most superficial part of awards season with preposterous gravity. But it’s also funny because Rogen says the line as if he’s straining to play a part that doesn’t quite fit him, a man of consequence.“The Studio,” which was just renewed for a second season, belongs to the genre of Hollywood satire in which fictional characters interact with real celebrities playing presumably more vain and craven versions of themselves (see also “Hacks”). But what makes the show distinctive is its exploration of a broader, more topical theme: the collapse of the power of bosses in prestige industries.Not long ago, it seemed as if everyone wanted to be the head of a Condé Nast magazine, a major book publishing house or a studio. Now whether the editor of Vanity Fair is a good job is an open question. Tech oligarchs have the most swagger in the culture, and social media has diminished the marketing muscle of publishers and studios. While managing the decline of traditional media is a challenge for the movie business, it’s an opportunity for satirists.Rogen and his longtime partner, Evan Goldberg, who are among the creators of “The Studio,” locate and exploit this cultural shift, giving comedy a new kind of corporate suit. Their insight is that the Hollywood mogul, long seen as an intimidating, cigar-chomping heavy, can now credibly be positioned as a comedic underdog — or even a likable buffoon.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

  • in

    Lulu Roman, Who Brought Big-Hearted Sass to ‘Hee Haw,’ Is Dead at 78

    Obesity was a source of trauma for her, but also of her comedy, which she showcased, along with gospel singing, on the long-running down-home variety show.Lulu Roman, who brought her big-hearted Texas sass and full-throated gospel vocals to the enduring variety show “Hee Haw,” known for its corn-pone comedy sketches and musical interludes provided by a constellation of country stars, died on April 23 in Bellingham, Wash. She was 78.Her son and caretaker, Damon Roman, said she died of heart failure at his home, where she had been living.Ms. Roman’s broad comedic skills and down-home persona proved a valuable asset to “Hee Haw,” which debuted on CBS in 1969 as a folksy heartland answer to NBC’s “Rowan & Martin’s Laugh-In,” a network take on contemporary mod culture known for its Day-Glo graphics and risqué one-liners delivered at Gatling-gun pace. It was originally a summer replacement for “The Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour,” an even edgier variety show that had run afoul of censors for its pointed takes on race relations, drugs, religion and the Vietnam War.But “Hee Haw” was the opposite of hip, and intentionally so. It was the television equivalent of a big country breakfast, heavy on the cheese grits. And it worked.While the show was initially blasted by critics, its mix of back-40 humor and musical appearances by Johnny Cash, Loretta Lynn and seemingly every other Nashville star propelled it to television institution status. (Although CBS canceled the show in 1971, “Hee Haw” rolled on in syndication, lasting more than a quarter of a century in various iterations.)Ms. Roman, in the foreground, with her “Hee Haw” castmates in an undated photo.Tony Esparza for CBS/TV Guide, via Everett CollectionWe are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

  • in

    Ruth Buzzi, Purse-Wielding Gladys of ‘Laugh-In,’ Is Dead at 88

    Ruth Buzzi, whose wary spinster wielding a vicious pocketbook to fend off male advances both real and imagined was among the most memorable characters on “Rowan & Martin’s Laugh-In,” the TV comedy grab bag of a show of the psychedelic era, died on Thursday at her ranch near Fort Worth. She was 88.Her agent, Michael Eisenstadt, said the cause was complications of Alzheimer’s disease, which was diagnosed 10 years ago.With an elastic, expressive face and a gift, both vocal and physical, for caricature, Ms. Buzzi had a long performing career. She played myriad roles onstage in summer stock; appeared on Broadway once, with a tripartite credit (as the Good Fairy/Woman With Hat/Receptionist) in the 1966 musical “Sweet Charity”; performed in TV variety shows; showed up as a guest star in a host of sitcoms; and had minor parts in movies, including “Freaky Friday,” the 1976 identity-swap comedy, and “The Apple Dumpling Gang Rides Again,” a loopy 1979 Disney western.Nothing in her career, however, had the enduring appeal of her determinedly unappealing “Laugh-In” character Gladys Ormphby, a combination schoolmarm, delicate codgerette and battle-ax clad in a drab brown cardigan, long skirt, saggy stockings and a hairnet with a knot in the middle of her forehead.Gladys’s regular appearances on the show — an NBC prime-time fixture from 1968 to 1973 — were generally in skits involving Tyrone, the quintessential dirty old man (Arte Johnson), who would get a little too close, breathe a little too heavily and make a little too suggestive a comment, provoking Gladys to wallop him with her purse.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

  • in

    Jed the Fish Dead: KROQ DJ Who Pioneered New Wave Radio Was 69

    With his off-kilter sensibility and deep musical grounding, he brought attention to New Wave and alternative artists at the groundbreaking station KROQ.Jed Gould, the influential Los Angeles disc jockey known as Jed the Fish, who used his off-kilter sensibility and deep musical knowledge to shine a light on artists like the Cure, Depeche Mode and the Offspring at the groundbreaking New Wave and alternative rock station KROQ-FM in the 1980s and ’90s, died on April 14 at his home in Pasadena, Calif. He was 69.The cause was an aggressive form of small-cell lung cancer, Rudy Koerner, a close friend, said. Mr. Gould was never a cigarette smoker, he added, and before he was diagnosed last month, he had thought his recent violent coughing fits were related to the Los Angeles wildfires.For decades, Mr. Gould served as a trusted musical savant — and drive-time friend — to young Angelenos, particularly members of Generation X. He also influenced future broadcasting stars.In a social media post after Mr. Gould’s death, Jimmy Kimmel, who worked on the morning show at KROQ early in his career, described him as “a legend.” On his podcast, Mr. Kimmel’s old sidekick on “The Man Show,” Adam Carolla, a former host of the relationship show “Loveline” on KROQ, called Mr. Gould “an icon.”With his boyish energy, free-ranging musical tastes and maniacal cackle, Mr. Gould helped lead a radio revolution at the maverick KROQ, based in Pasadena, starting in the late 1970s.At a time when FM rock stations were dominated by hyper-produced corporate juggernauts like Styx and Foreigner, KROQ became a sensation for its “Roq of the ’80s” format, which shimmered with fresh sounds from New Wave bands like Talking Heads and Devo, synth-pop groups like the Human League and Spandau Ballet, and local heroes like X and the Go-Go’s.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

  • in

    When Real Life Calls for a Cheesy Rom-Com Gesture

    The big boombox moments in Hollywood films are cliché. Yet they can also sustain love in real life.The second time I fell in love, before it began to go well, it went very badly. After only a couple of conversations over coffee, I showed up at my beloved’s apartment and confessed the depth of my feelings — to which she responded, with heartbreaking nonchalance, “Um … what do you expect me to say?” I was so devastated that, in trying to flee, I inadvertently stormed right past her front door and straight into her hallway closet. On my way home, I almost walked into the path of a moving train, then verbally abused the subway conductor for daring to warn me about it. That night I drank an entire bottle of wine, watched the 2005 film adaptation of “Pride and Prejudice” for the umpteenth time and cursed my sorry fate.Yes, I know. You don’t have to tell me what I looked like.What did I think I would accomplish, pulling some cheesy rom-com move, as if my life were “Say Anything” or “When Harry Met Sally”? Had Hollywood turned me into a tacky derivative? Relationship advice is awash with warnings to not be duped by films. We poor schlubs out in the world don’t have teams of writers scripting our happy endings, experts caution — and so taking inspiration from rom-coms’ corny gestures just sets ourselves up for disappointment.And it’s true that real life does not tolerate clichés. Falling for someone is a highly individual experience. An unassuming widow’s peak, the sound of their vowels when they’re running late — it’s small, specific details that stoke and justify desire (and that sent me marching to my beloved’s doorstep that night). When we are fervently in love, wrote the novelist Stendhal, “everything is a symbol.” If you have ever disapproved of a friend’s partner, then you were not seeing the same symbols your friend was. But so then, if nothing is more unique than a love affair, how come so many of us watch Nicholas Sparks’s films with the same generic scenes of rain-kissing and love-declaring?It’s because underneath a rom-com’s boilerplate narrative structures, there is extreme passion and ardor and desperation — and all of that is very true to what the actual nonmovie experience of falling in love feels like. Rom-coms resonate with us because we do see ourselves in them: They function as mirrors through which we can pinpoint and understand our own amorphous feelings. And their sweeping gestures also provide encouragement for us to turn our passions into concrete action.I have never seen anyone kiss a lover in the pouring rain — in real life, cold rainstorms are no aphrodisiac — but I have witnessed a grown man get down on bended knee and belt out the worst Nickelback cover. His girlfriend, who hates Nickelback, adored it. I was raised by a man who, after a decade of friendship with a woman, got drunk and flew across the country so he could tell her that he couldn’t wait a moment longer to be together. Years later, my mother’s brother was almost arrested for loudly declaiming his regret outside his wife’s window in the middle of the night. (At least he didn’t use a boombox.)As the sociologist Niklas Luhmann put it, “Showing that one could control one’s passion would be a poor way of showing passion.” I may have made a clown of myself when I showed up out of the blue to declare my love, but nothing else I could have done would have demonstrated the bigness of my feelings more clearly. And I don’t think I would have had the courage to try had I not been bred on a steady diet of finely calibrated melodrama.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

  • in

    ‘The Interview’: Nate Bargatze Doesn’t Mind if You Think He’s an Idiot

    It’s often the case that when stand-up comedians seize the public’s attention, it’s because they exude a sense of danger. They say what others don’t have the nerve to say, about topics others won’t raise, in language others never use. There’s an aura of transgressive truth-telling around this type of comedy star, best exemplified by the likes of Richard Pryor, Chris Rock and Hannah Gadsby — people who met the moment fearlessly.In this moment, though, one so sorely in need of fearless truth-telling, Nate Bargatze has rocketed to stardom by doing pretty much the opposite. Low-key and G-rated, his comedy traffics in comfortably relatable stories about the foibles of family life, his confusion with modern living and being a bit of a dim bulb. He is hardly the first clean stand-up to achieve tremendous success (though stylistic antecedents like Jerry Seinfeld and Ray Romano were able to ride a bygone wave of smash network sitcoms), but he has done it with no hits to his comedic credibility. It’s instructive, I think, that both my mother-in-law, hardly an aficionado of stand-up, and my best friend, a snob when it comes to the form, were excited to learn I was interviewing Bargatze.The gentle and inclusive approach of Bargatze, a 46-year-old Tennessee native, helped make his tour last year the highest-grossing one by a comedian. Two widely praised turns hosting “Saturday Night Live” (you may have seen his viral sketch “Washington’s Dream”) raised his profile outside the world of stand-up. Just this week, CBS announced that he has been tapped to host the Emmy Awards in September. And he is also branching out with a book, the self-deprecatingly titled “Big Dumb Eyes: Stories From a Simpler Mind,” which will be published on May 6. Such self-deprecation is a Bargatze trademark, but, as I learned, it also conceals some bold ambitions.The stand-up comic discusses having a magician for a father, the challenge of mainstream comedy and his aspirations to build the next Disneyland.Subscribe: Apple Podcasts | Spotify | YouTube | Amazon | iHeart | NYT Audio AppIt’s interesting to read articles about you since your career has really taken off. The writers always try to explain why you’ve gotten so big. What’s your hunch about that? Talking about relatable things and authenticity. Not that I’m going out for authenticity. But you’re in a world where you have the “Wicked”s and these “Avengers” movies — and that’s great, but there’s not a regular person on a screen anymore. Movies used to be like “Planes, Trains and Automobiles” and “Home Alone”: That’s a regular guy in this movie that you enjoy watching. It’s easier to take in. And you don’t always want to be thought-provoked. That’s something I’ve tried to stay clear of because I’m trying to sell you something. I need you to be able to come and trust that you’re going to get the entertainment that I am showing you that I am selling you.You said you’re selling something, which is an interesting thing to hear. That’s true for just about everyone in the entertainment business, but usually people aren’t explicit in saying it. Why do you think there’s hesitation on the part of some entertainers to say, “I’m selling something”? It’s got this weird self-importance: “I have a platform, so I need to say something.” I’m anti-platform. If I want to give you my opinion and tell you what I think, that’s about me. When I go onstage, I try to remind myself this night’s not about me. If it becomes about me, it’s too much. I can’t handle it. But if I can make it for other people, now I’m an employee and I’m working. It’s not about my self-importance. More

  • in

    Jinkx Monsoon Sails From ‘Drag Race’ to ‘Pirates! The Penzance Musical’

    Jinkx Monsoon talks about feeling like a lifetime of hard work is finally paying off, and her return to Broadway as a zany maid in “Pirates! The Penzance Musical.”As she prepared to discuss a part in the upcoming Broadway show “Pirates! The Penzance Musical” with the director Scott Ellis, Jinkx Monsoon had only one outcome in mind. “I knew I was going in for a meeting, but I wanted to leave with that role,” she said in a recent conversation.And she was not coy about it. “The first thing she said was, ‘I’ve never wanted anything more than this,’” Ellis recalled, laughing.Now Monsoon is above the show’s title in playbills, alongside Ramin Karimloo and David Hyde Pierce. A lifetime of hard work has added up.“I’ve done so many freaking things!” Monsoon said. “I’ve been a stand-up comedian, I’ve been a singer and a dancer and a stripper. I think auctioneer is one thing I haven’t done.”A two-time winner of “RuPaul’s Drag Race,” Monsoon, 37, a Portland, Ore., native, has an eclectic résumé that includes cabaret shows, guest starring on “Doctor Who” and a wildly popular seasonal bauble, “The Jinkx & DeLa Holiday Show” (created and performed with BenDeLaCreme). When she made her Broadway debut in January 2023 as Matron “Mama” Morton in “Chicago,” casual — or perhaps cynical — observers might have assumed she was just another TV personality crossing off another item on her wish list, like headlining Carnegie Hall. (Monsoon did that, too, in February.)Instead it was a big step toward her end goal. She then took an even bigger step, professionally and personally, last year, when she was cast as Audrey in the hit Off Broadway revival of “Little Shop of Horrors” and ended up surprising even people who know her well.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More