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    ‘Videoheaven’ Review: Rewinding the Tape

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    A documentary by Alex Ross Perry examines how movies and TV have portrayed video store culture.Borrowing the format of “Los Angeles Plays Itself” (2004), Thom Andersen’s great, sprawling survey of how movies have depicted Los Angeles, Alex Ross Perry’s archival documentary “Videoheaven” takes on a topic that is considerably more niche: how movies have depicted video stores.The subject is more capacious than it might sound. For one thing, it is intriguingly time-bound. Video stores couldn’t have appeared in movies until the late 1970s, says Maya Hawke, who narrates, in a nod to her role as a video store employee on “Stranger Things.” Eventually, such stores will only be portrayed by people who never experienced them firsthand, she says, “like westerns or the World War II film.”Drawing on Daniel Herbert’s book “Videoland,” Perry traces how films and TV went from showing home viewing as exotic or dangerous (“Videodrome,” “Body Double”) to seeing it as routine. Onscreen, video stores became sites for romantic interaction or potential embarrassment. Pondering a television trope in which a person seeking to rent a pornographic movie is, without fail, shamed, “Videoheaven” describes “an extremely 1990s paradox wherein adults are interested in sexuality but unwilling to admit it.”The observations range from the incisive to the grandiose, and at nearly three hours, “Videoheaven” could stand a tighter edit. Early on, a line of voice-over is sloppily repeated verbatim. And Perry only needs so many clips of obnoxious clerks, even if it’s funny to see David Spade repeatedly typecast in that role.But the material will be irresistible to any cinephile who has spent countless hours in these spaces, and a critic would do well to admit susceptibility. I’ve met Perry a few times over the years, and the first time, he thought I looked familiar — I assume because I had frequented the Kim’s Video where he worked.VideoheavenNot rated. Running time: 2 hours 53 minutes. In theaters. More

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      When Nobu Masuhisa Changed Sushi in America Forever

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      “I am so glad I didn’t give up on my life and kept going,” says the chef, who’s the subject of a new documentary about his remarkable career.Nobu sits along the Pacific Coast Highway in Malibu, with ocean waves lapping under its outdoor deck. It is an interlude of tranquillity along a road that is a maze of construction crews, police cars, fire trucks and the charred frames of beachfront homes — evidence of the wildfires that raced through here earlier this year.But at 11:45 a.m. on a recent Saturday, the crowd stretched 200-feet deep waiting for Nobu to open for lunch. By 12:30, every table was filled. It was a testament to the endurance and appeal of a restaurant that encapsulates — in food, celebrity and style — a global phenomenon that began 38 years ago, and 20 miles away, when the chef Nobu Matsuhisa opened a modest sushi restaurant in Beverly Hills.At 76, Matsuhisa today sits atop a restaurant and hotel empire that stretches almost entirely around the globe. He is the chef who, as much as anyone, transformed the sushi scene in New York and, to a lesser extent, Los Angeles. He was one of the first chefs, along with Wolfgang Puck, to have soared beyond the boundaries of his first restaurant to become a celebrity in his own right. And he is now the subject of a new documentary, “Nobu,” tracing the arc of his life, from growing up in a small town outside Tokyo to becoming a magnate with homes in Japan and Bel-Air.“I am step by step,” Matsuhisa told me. “When I opened my first restaurant in 1987, I never thought about growing. Always I had the passions — always my base was cooking. And now I have so many, we have so many restaurants around the world.”“There are a handful of people who have changed the way the world eats,” the critic Ruth Reichl says in the documentary. “Nobu is certainly there in that pantheon.”AGC InternationalAs Matt Tyrnauer, the filmmaker who spent two years making the documentary, said over plates of sushi at the Nobu in Malibu: “He’s gone from one modest restaurant on La Cienega to becoming a global luxury brand centered on food and hospitality. There are not a lot of people that have pulled that off.”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

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      Barbara Walters Film ‘Tell Me Everything’ Sticks to Highlights

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      “Tell Me Everything” is more of a puff piece than its subject might have liked, but the film is at its best examining TV journalism’s evolution.Given the subtitle — and, to be honest, the subject — of Jackie Jesko’s documentary “Barbara Walters: Tell Me Everything” (streaming on Hulu), I expected a bit more soul-baring. That’s what Walters, the pioneering journalist who dominated the TV interview for decades, was known for. As Oprah Winfrey notes in the film, Walters’s specialty was getting subjects from Fidel Castro and Anwar Sadat to Monica Lewinsky and Winfrey herself to say something they’d never said to anyone.There’s nothing that really qualifies as a bombshell or revelation in this film, though. Like most documentaries about celebrities these days — and Walters, who died in 2022, was undoubtedly a celebrity — it features some frank comments from various interviewees, but carefully positions Walters in her best light: not a flawless woman, but one whose foibles don’t detract from her overall legacy.That means the film comments upon but doesn’t dwell on some of Walters’s more controversial moments: grilling women like Taylor Swift and Lady Gaga on their romantic lives, or cozying up to men like the notorious Roy Cohn. The lives of women in the spotlight are often scrutinized far more intently than those of their male colleagues, but here it’s not without reason: journalists who aspire to do their work in a fair, independent way have to accept that close personal relationships with subjects are off-limits in their private lives, and some questions probably cross ethical lines. But the film tries to frame most of these moments as responses to her upbringing, without spending much time on how they play into a broader American attitude of mistrust toward journalists.By those standards, “Barbara Walters: Tell Me Everything” is disappointing, and more of a puff piece than I suspect Walters herself would have wanted. Yet seen through a different lens, it’s also fascinating — a rather thrilling history of television journalism, as seen through Walters’s life.That’s because she was absolutely a trailblazer for women in news, subjecting herself to plenty of ridicule as she took on one barrier after another: co-hosting a morning show, then anchoring evening news, landing consequential interviews, breaking ground with newsmagazines and innovative talk formats like “20/20” and “The View,” and ultimately creating a brand out of herself that signaled something to the public. There was a time when “the Barbara Walters interview” with a celebrity was an Event, something to stay up late and watch.Throughout the film, a host of voices — including Walters’s own, via archival interviews — tell this story. Winfrey and the seasoned news anchor Katie Couric, in particular, are valuable in filling in the historical background, showing how television journalism progressed from an era in which “hard news” was the realm of serious men in suits, all the way to the years when Walters sat around on a couch with her fellow hosts on “The View,” mixing news and interviews with live-wire conversations. Alongside Walters, they tell the tale of a shift in the shape of TV news. A medium built for entertainment has slowly changed how journalism is delivered and what you expect, and you can see it happening right before your eyes.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

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      ‘Afternoons of Solitude’ Review: Man Versus Bull

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      Albert Serra’s mesmerizing documentary about a bullfighter faithfully depicts a violent tradition and the specter of death that suffuses it.Albert Serra’s first documentary feature, “Afternoons of Solitude,” shows the Peruvian-born torero Andrés Roca Rey as he battles bulls in the ring and psychs himself up offstage. The film’s faithful depiction of the bloody Spanish tradition could serve as an argument against the much-protested practice, but Serra’s vision is mesmeric not polemic. He records spangled ceremonies marinated in the fear of death, producing an X-ray of the male ego and its costly upkeep.Serra doesn’t frontload the spectacle: He likes to observe Roca Rey at rest, driven in a crowded car and facing a fixed camera. The fresh-faced bullfighter obsesses over his matches and masculinity, and his cuadrilla (team of assistants) big him up like a boxer before a fight. Serra’s mastery of mood in the film builds on an iconoclastic career spanning from the Don Quixote deconstruction “Honor of Knights” to the atomic tropicalia of “Pacifiction.”In the ring, Roca Rey and the bull are often tensely composed in medium shots and close-ups. The face-offs are hypnotic, like those between a mongoose and python; Roca Rey grimaces as he risks being gored in his angling and attacks. But notions of courage are complicated by the preparatory rituals of the “picadors,” who stab the bulls until they are weakened by muscle injury and blood loss.If this review sounds conflicted, that reflects the power of a nonfiction film that might also escape its director’s loftier intentions. This flop-sweat portrait suggests that a toreador is never as brave as the bull and maybe knows it.Afternoons of SolitudeNot rated. In Spanish, with subtitles. Running time: 2 hours 5 minutes. In theaters. More

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      ‘Natasha,’ a Film About a Murdered Russian Activist, Takes Its Own Risks

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      The widely condemned killing of Natalya Estemirova is the subject of a documentary that those involved say needed to take heed of the dangers of speaking out.For a decade, Natalya Estemirova documented brutal human rights abuses in Chechnya. Her work led to her becoming one of the most prominent and respected human rights defenders working in that small predominantly Muslim region of Russia.But on the morning of July 15, 2009, as she was leaving her apartment, she was abducted and murdered, crimes for which no one has been charged but are viewed by many as precipitated by her work.Years later, filmmakers and former colleagues trying to tell her story encountered their own set of risks as they endeavored to draw attention to her heroism and the conditions that provoked it.The resulting short 35-minute documentary, “Natasha,” as Natalya was known, premiered this month at the Tribeca Film Festival.Andrew Meier, one of the two producers and directors of the film, said he does not imagine it will be shown in Russia anytime soon.“Even revisiting Natasha’s work and Natasha’s murder is a taboo, to put it mildly,” he said in an interview. “It’s one of the big cases you just don’t talk about in Chechnya.”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

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      In a New Documentary, the Deaf Actress Marlee Matlin Talks About Prejudice

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      In a new documentary, the actress talks about the prejudice and loneliness she faced after becoming the rare Hollywood star who is deaf.Actors in documentaries about their own lives rarely — perhaps never — speak with the kind of candor that Marlee Matlin brings to Shoshannah Stern’s new film “Marlee Matlin: Not Alone Anymore” (in theaters). This kind of project all too often results in a cagey puff piece, lots of warmed-over memories accented by one mildly surprising revelation, which ensures the movie will make headlines.Not this film. From the start, Matlin speaks with an unvarnished frankness about the loneliness and prejudice she encountered when she burst into public consciousness in “Children of a Lesser God,” for which she won the best actress Oscar in 1987. For 35 years, she was the only deaf performer with an Academy Award — a record finally broken in 2022, when Troy Kotsur won for “CODA,” in which he co-starred with Matlin. Now, she says, she isn’t alone anymore.But the path to this point was littered with frustrations in a world that still treats deaf people as second-class citizens. Matlin talks about how solitary she often felt, set apart not just from the hearing world but at times from the deaf one, too. She speaks, with nuance but also pain, of her relationship with her “Children of a Lesser God” co-star William Hurt, who was 16 years older and, she says, abusive at times. (Hurt died in 2022. In 2009, he issued a public apology “for any pain I caused.”) She also addresses the clear anti-deaf bias that surfaces in the news media — demonstrated, pointedly, by archival clips of interviewers saying offensive things — and how it shaped her addiction struggles as well as the way she presented herself in the years following her Oscar win.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

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      ‘America’s Sweethearts’ Is a Compelling Sports Series

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      Season 2 of this docuseries about the Dallas Cowboys cheerleaders is an intense look at found families and all the healing and trouble that come with them.Season 2 of the documentary series “America’s Sweethearts: Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders,” on Netflix, is a bit less rah-rah than Season 1 — still full of tears, high kicks and sisterhood but also more attuned to the pain of it all, the sorrow and struggle of cobbling together one’s self-worth.One of this season’s leads is Jada, a five-year veteran of the team and among its best dancers and most thoughtful leaders. She lays out the season’s theme at the beginning: “Everyone’s going to say, ‘Well, they’re just cheerleaders,’” she says. “Well, we’re really good cheerleaders.”Her grin begins to spread. “Show us that you appreciate us,” she adds.Are the members of the team appreciated? Not with money, they’re not, and part of this season’s most invigorating arc is the cheerleaders’ quest for better pay. Season 1 brought additional fame and adulation to the team, and it also drew attention to the exploitation of the enterprise. As Kylie, another team veteran, explains: “The world was kind of telling us, ‘Girls, fight for more.’ And we’re like, ‘OK!’”As the women practice the grueling signature routine, we hear the opening strains of the AC/DC song “Thunderstruck,” over and over. But the true refrain of the season is the fretting about being in one’s own head. It’s the catchall term for all distress and self-recrimination, the explanation for any lack of confidence or lapse in perfection. Yes, performers can overthink things, especially in prolonged auditions, and rumination and anxiety are enemies to the wide smiles and sexy winks the Dallas cheerleaders’ routines require. The job is to make it look easy.But there’s an interesting tension. Your head is where the good ideas are, too — ideas like: “Hey, a lot of people are making a lot of money off my work; why doesn’t any of that go to me?” Or: “Even people who I believe have my best interests at heart can disappoint and hurt me.”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

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      William Cran, ‘Frontline’ Documentarian, Is Dead at 79

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      Producing or directing, he made more than 50 films over 50 years, including a series on the English language and an exploration of J. Edgar Hoover’s secret life.William Cran, an Emmy-winning master of the television documentary whose expansive body of work, primarily for the BBC and the PBS program “Frontline,” delved into complex subjects like the history of the English language and the private life of the F.B.I. director J. Edgar Hoover, died on June 4 in London. He was 79.His wife, Vicki Barker-Cran, said cause was complications of Parkinson’s disease. He died in a hospital.Mr. Cran produced more than 50 documentaries over 50 years and directed many of them.He began his career with the BBC, but he mostly worked as an independent producer, toggling between jobs on both sides of the Atlantic.He was most closely associated with “Frontline,” for which he produced 20 documentaries on a wide range of subjects — some historical, like the four-part series “From Jesus to Christ” (1998) and “The Secret Life of J. Edgar Hoover” (1993), and some focused on current events, like “Who’s Afraid of Rupert Murdoch” (1995).Some of Mr. Cran’s documentaries were historical, like the four-part series “From Jesus to Christ” (1998).PBSHe won a slew of honors, including four Emmys, four duPont-Columbia University awards, two Peabodys and an Overseas Press Club Award.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

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      ‘SVU’ Star Mariska Hargitay on Her Mother Jayne Mansfield

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      Mariska Hargitay was at home, and she was sprinting up the stairs, bounding between the corners of her very full life. I had to hustle to keep pace.She checked in with her oldest son — tall, polite, home from his first year at Princeton — and supervised the setup of an engagement party she was hosting for her goddaughter. Gardeners buzzed about the terraces of her Manhattan penthouse. She apologized, superfluously, for the noise.Her latest obsession, a family heirloom grand piano that had recently entered her apartment via crane, dominated the living room, with a custom “M” bench, courtesy of her husband, the actor Peter Hermann (“Younger”). “That’s my next thing — I’m going to learn to play soon,” Hargitay vowed.Another dash and we were on the floor below, a warren of cozy offices, painted in jewel tones, with overstuffed couches and muscular art by Annie Leibovitz. Tucked on a bookshelf were some of Hargitay’s awards. She has earned Emmys for playing Olivia Benson, the beloved “Law & Order: SVU” hardass, and for producing the 2017 documentary “I Am Evidence,” about the backlog of rape kits.This is where Hargitay had conceived, edited and even shot some of her newest and perhaps most life-altering project, the documentary “My Mom Jayne.” It’s at once an unflinching portrait of her mother, the 1950s star and pinup Jayne Mansfield, who died when Mariska was 3; a homage to her father, the bodybuilder and actor Mickey Hargitay; and an investigation into her own clouded and secretive origins. Directing the film, which will air June 27 on HBO, and proclaiming her story has unlocked something profound for Hargitay, 61.“I am so clear now about the truth,” she said. “This big haze came off — a veil of fear. And now I just feel so much at peace. It’s like a miracle to me to feel this way. I never thought I could.”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