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    Shows Like ‘Cops’ Fell Out of Favor. Now Texas May Ban Them.

    Lawmakers passed a bill named for Javier Ambler II, who died in 2019 after officers arrested him in front of a “Live PD” television crew. If the governor signs it, this would mean the end of police cooperation with reality TV shows.Two years ago, a television crew gathered in the small city of Hawkins, Texas, to film the life and work of Manfred Gilow, the chief of police there.Cameras followed Chief Gilow as he and his officers responded to calls, snapped handcuffs onto wrists and searched vehicles for drugs. The program was not available on Texas televisions; Chief Gilow is from Germany, and that is where “Der Germinator” (a portmanteau of “German” and “The Terminator”) was broadcast.Last year, after the nationally broadcast policing shows “Cops” and “Live PD” were canceled, “Der Germinator” filmed a second season. But prospects for a third may have dimmed last week, when the Texas Legislature passed a bill that would make it illegal for law enforcement agencies to authorize reality television crews to film officers on duty.“Policing is not entertainment,” said James Talarico, the Democratic state representative who introduced the legislation. The office of Gov. Greg Abbott, a Republican, did not respond to requests for comment this week about whether he would sign the legislation.Reality law enforcement shows, Mr. Talarico said, “rely on violent encounters between citizens and the police to boost their own ratings.” He cited an investigation by The Austin American-Statesman, which reported last year that law enforcement officers in Williamson County, Texas, were more violent when the “Live PD” cameras were rolling.The bill, which the Legislature passed with bipartisan support on May 13, is named after Javier Ambler II, a 40-year-old father of two who died in 2019 after Williamson County officers forcibly arrested him in front of a “Live PD” camera crew.Mr. Ambler’s sister, Kimberly Ambler-Jones, 39, said she believed that her brother would still be alive if the television crews had not been filming. “Because they had ‘Live PD’ there, it had to be hyped up,” she said. “It had to be drama.”That show was taken off the air in June. So was “Cops,” which had beamed arrests, confrontations and car chases to televisions across the United States for decades.The cancellations came amid nationwide protests over the police killing of George Floyd in Minneapolis. They also followed years of campaigning by the racial justice organization Color of Change, which had been pushing networks to drop “Cops” since at least 2013.Arisha Hatch, the organization’s vice president and chief of campaigns, said the shows were one-sided and served as propaganda for law enforcement.“They violate the civil liberties of people who are forced to become the stars of the show,” she said. “They operate to make a joke about how Black communities and poor communities are overpoliced.”Ms. Hatch welcomed the Texas bill, noting that the state-level legislative approach appeared to be without precedent.But with two flagship policing programs already canceled, it is unclear whether the law would have any immediate effect if approved by Governor Abbott.A reality series set in Texas called “Lone Star Law,” on Animal Planet, could most likely continue filming as long as it keeps its focus on wildlife and game wardens, Mr. Talarico said.“Der Germinator,” on the other hand, could be at risk.Chief Gilow argued that the program should be allowed to continue, characterizing it as more of a documentary than a reality show. He said it offered German viewers a glimpse of life in the United States, as well as a cautionary tale about the consequences of crime.“I think it is positive,” Chief Gilow said. “But you will have some people just hating it because they hate the police.” He added that the show did not violate anyone’s rights and blurred the faces of people who did not consent to be filmed.Police body cameras captured the 2019 arrest of Javier Ambler II. Crews from “Live PD” were also filming, but their footage was never broadcast.Austin Police Department, via Associated PressMs. Ambler-Jones said she hoped that Mr. Abbott would sign the bill — and that similar legislation would spread beyond Texas.“I know people feel like this is just entertainment,” she said of reality policing programs. “But you don’t understand what the person on the other side of that camera is dealing with.”For months after Mr. Ambler’s death, his family did not know what had happened to him — only that he had died in law enforcement custody. The details became public last year, after The Austin American-Statesman and the news outlet KVUE obtained body camera footage.Mr. Ambler was driving in the Austin area on March 28, 2019, when Williamson County deputies tried to stop him because he did not dim his headlights to traffic, officials said. After deputies tried to pull Mr. Ambler over, the authorities said, he kept driving for more than 20 minutes before crashing his vehicle.The body camera footage showed that the officers restrained Mr. Ambler and used a Taser on him multiple times. “I have congestive heart failure,” Mr. Ambler could be heard saying. “I can’t breathe.”Mr. Ambler was taken to a hospital, where he was pronounced dead. “Live PD” footage of the arrest was never broadcast on television.Since then, Williamson County officials have faced several lawsuits related to reality television footage. Two deputies were indicted on second-degree manslaughter charges in Mr. Ambler’s death, and the former county sheriff, who lost his seat after a November election, was indicted on charges of evidence tampering. All have pleaded not guilty.A spokeswoman for Williamson County declined to comment because of pending litigation. Big Fish Entertainment, the production company behind “Live PD,” did not immediately respond to emailed questions.Mr. Talarico said he hoped the legislation, if signed into law by the governor, would keep “Cops” and “Live PD” out of Texas for good. “Without the force of law, there’s nothing preventing these shows from coming back,” he said, “except for their own conscience.” More

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    ‘Two Gods’ Review: Matters of Life and Death

    Zeshawn Ali’s documentary is a compelling portrait of a Black Muslim man in Newark who builds caskets and mentors two children.With depth of feeling and warm black-and-white photography, Zeshawn Ali’s humble documentary “Two Gods” fully acknowledges how death is a part of life.Ali brings a matter-of-fact compassion to the experiences of three different people: Hanif, a Black Muslim man in Newark, and the two boys he is mentoring, Furquan and Naz.Hanif builds caskets for a Muslim funeral home and joins their washing rituals for the dead. Lanky with a salt-and-pepper grizzle, heavy glasses, and a restless vibe, Hanif seems settled there after some years in the wilderness. He’s a pal to Furquan, a well-grounded 12-year-old, and a booster for Naz, a baby-faced 17-year-old who seems to be sliding into crime. Hanif worries over both — Furquan eventually moves in with relatives in North Carolina when his grandmother falls ill and mother deals with domestic abuse — while forging his own path and reconnecting with a son.Ali nimbly sketches their shifting fortunes and feelings, sensitive to the contours of the Black and Muslim experience, whether showing the importance of community or the precarious sense of not getting second chances. He cuts efficiently without turning anyone into a case study. The most touching moment might be when Hanif goes through a rough patch and gets the space to say that he just doesn’t know how to respond — he’s hurting and figuring it out. Furquan is also portrayed with respect, as he finds new pursuits in wrestling and churchgoing.A birthday cake gets cut at the beginning and ending of the movie. That celebratory image helps situate Hanif, Furquan and Naz’s lives in a hopeful cycle, working on healing, redemption and just plain living.Two GodsNot rated. Running time: 1 hour 22 minutes. Watch through virtual cinemas. More

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    ‘Broken Harts’ Review: Examining a Family Tragedy

    This bland true-crime documentary tells the story of the Hart family, in which two mothers hid the neglect and abuse of their six children behind an idyllic facade.The shallow documentary “Broken Harts” examines a tragic crime: In March, 2018, the Washington couple Jennifer and Sarah Hart killed their six adopted children by driving off a California cliff. At first, authorities assumed the car crash was an accident. Further investigation revealed that the women had been abusing their children, and had premeditated the plunge as an act of family annihilation.Based on a podcast by Glamour, “Broken Harts” (streaming on Discovery+) unfolds as a patchwork of true-crime clichés. After opening with a montage of sinister sound bites, the movie delves into the crash and the revelations that occurred in the days and weeks following. The details are juicy enough, but as the story continues, the investigation timeline starts to feel like superficial framing for the story.More compelling — and more challenging — are the racial and economic factors underpinning the tragedy. Jennifer and Sarah, both white, adopted the six children of color. The two went on to use social media and community platforms to curate a picture of harmony, vitality and bliss. The women’s posturing was calculated: Their idyllic facade concealed a pattern of neglect and abuse occurring behind closed doors.The movie, directed by Gregory Palmer, finds its footing in interviews with the journalist Zaron Burnett. He discusses how the Harts sold an image of white saviorism, and then he expands their story to highlight the systems that enabled their behavior. Burnett’s analysis is sharp, and his words leave a possibility hanging in the air — that with a bolder and broader framework, “Broken Harts” might have been more than fast food for true-crime obsessives.Broken HartsNot rated. Running time: 1 hour 25 minutes. Watch on Discovery+. More

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    The Making of ‘High on the Hog,’ Bringing Black Food History to TV

    The new Netflix series tapped years of scholarship and the life experience of its creators to chart how African Americans have shaped the country’s cuisine.There is a breathtaking moment near the end of the first episode of “High on the Hog: How African American Cuisine Transformed America,” a new four-part Netflix documentary based on the 2011 book by the scholar Jessica B. Harris. More

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    ‘Rockfield: The Studio on the Farm’ Review: Rockers Ripping It Up

    A documentary explores the Welsh farm-turned-studio, Rockfield, where Black Sabbath, the Stone Roses and others made music.Rockers endeavoring to “get their heads together in the country” has been one of the great clichés of popular music since the late-1960s. As “Rockfield: The Studio on the Farm,” an agreeable new documentary directed by Hannah Berryman, amply testifies, “the country” was just as likely a place for rockers to lose their heads.As recounted by the brothers Kingsley Ward and Charles Ward, their parents’ large pig and dairy farm in Wales was a dodgy inheritance. “No money in farming,” one of them shrugs. Avid rock fans since the mid-50s, they made music together on reel-to-reel tape and drove north to try to sell it; their first stop was a record pressing plant. (They got a “label” address off the back of an LP.)Various farm buildings had attractive acoustic qualities, so the Wards started cleaning them up and sealing them off, building a residential studio. Black Sabbath rehearsed there; the space-rockers Hawkwind recorded there. After leaving Led Zeppelin, the singer Robert Plant found at Rockfield a place to experiment, an environment where he was “free to fail.”The tales become more picaresque as New Wave and Britpop bands begin checking in and behaving like New Wave and Britpop bands. Simple Minds sing backup vocals for an intermittently sober Iggy Pop, and so on. The studio’s biggest upturn comes when the Stone Roses stay for over a year. And then there’s Oasis. Its former lead singer, Liam Gallagher, recalls the fights with his bandleader brother, Noel (of course he does), and rushing to the village pub.This stuff is best appreciated by rock mavens. Many of the other bands telling their stories (including the Boo Radleys and the Charlatans) didn’t have much of an impact in the States, so Anglophilia helps, too.Rockfield: The Studio on the FarmNot rated. Running time: 1 hour 30 minutes. Watch through virtual cinemas. More

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    ‘Stop Filming Us’ Review: Wary of Their Close-Up

    The Dutch documentarian Joris Postema’s Congo-set film aims to reckon with neocolonialism.The title of Joris Postema’s documentary comes from the cries the Dutch filmmaker encounters in Goma, a city in the Democratic Republic of Congo, as he follows a local photographer (Mugabo Baritegera) through the streets. “What’s this white man doing?” one hawker asks skeptically. “Taking our photos without giving us anything?” exclaim others, covering their faces.“Can I, a Western filmmaker, portray this world?” Postema wonders at the outset of “Stop Filming Us.” The reality that emerges in the film’s interviews and observational segments is that Postema is freer to do so than native artists in Goma, who struggle to work profitably outside the influence of foreign institutions. Betty, a filmmaker, must apply for funding at the Institut Français to finish shooting her project, while Ley, a photographer, is commissioned by private aid organizations and U.N. agencies to take pictures of destitute refugees that many find exploitative.Postema frequently turns the lens on himself, posing provocative questions to his Congolese crew. Has he done anything “neocolonial” during the shoot? Should he make this film or hand his resources over to a local director?Postema’s interlocutors respond with candid critiques, but the director’s self-flagellation feels increasingly empty — less a reckoning with neocolonialism than a toothless display of white guilt. His critical insights are thin, too: There’s little consideration of the economic barriers that separate the artists Postema engages in debate from the people on the street whose consent he openly defies. And despite all his hand-wringing about who should tell which stories, “Stop Filming Us” ultimately credits only one director.Stop Filming UsNot rated. In Dutch, English, French and Swahili, with subtitles. Running time: 1 hour 35 minutes. In New York at Film Forum. Please consult the guidelines outlined by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention before watching movies inside theaters. More

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    ‘Los Hermanos/The Brothers’ Review: A Long-Deferred Duet

    In this documentary, two musician siblings — one who lives in Cuba, the other in the United States — get a chance to tour together.A moving documentary with generous amounts of music, “Los Hermanos/The Brothers” follows two musician siblings from Havana whose personal closeness is at odds with the geopolitics that keep them apart. Ilmar Gavilán, a violinist, left at 14 to study in Moscow and later immigrated to the United States. Aldo López-Gavilán, his younger brother, a pianist and composer, mostly stayed in Cuba, apart from conservatory training in London. Until December 2014, when President Obama announced a restoration of American relations with Cuba, the brothers — the sons of professional musicians — had few opportunities to perform together, or even to see each other.Directed by Marcia Jarmel and Ken Schneider, the documentary follows the brothers separately and as a pair from 2016 to 2018, as they visit their respective homes and travel the United States on a musical tour. The film shows how their differing backgrounds have shaped their musical styles and their attitudes. Aldo talks about the lack of good pianos in Cuba. Ilmar explains how the embargo prevented Aldo from having their mother’s piano there repaired by Steinway in the United States. When Ilmar visits Cuba, Aldo praises the government stores while Ilmar teases him about how infrequently the rations allow him to obtain a chicken. In Detroit, Ilmar laments the visible inequality.The film might have done more to explain the logistics of the brothers’ border hassles, and there are a few occasions when the year of filming could be clarified. But the electrifying musical collaborations — in addition to the poignant sibling performances, Joshua Bell performs Aldo’s music with Aldo at Lincoln Center — more than make up for those quibbles.Los Hermanos/The BrothersNot rated. Running time: 1 hour 24 minutes. In theaters and on virtual cinemas. Please consult the guidelines outlined by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention before watching movies inside theaters. More

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    We, Tina

    Listen and follow Still ProcessingApple Podcasts | Spotify | StitcherShe’s simply the best. A new documentary on HBO (called, simply, “Tina”) explores Tina Turner’s tremendous triumphs, but we wanted to go deeper. We talk about how her entire career was an act of repossession: Taking back her name, her voice, her image, her vitality and her spirituality made her one of the biggest rock stars in the world, even in her 50s.Tina Turner at her home in Küsnacht, Switzerland, July 2019.Charlie Gates for The New York TimesOn Today’s EpisodeWesley’s ‘We, Tina’ playlistWesley compiled his all-time favorite Tina Turner tracks onto a playlist. Have a listen.◆ ◆ ◆The music icon’s life onscreenTina Turner in 1973, in a scene from the documentary “Tina.”Rhonda Graam/HBO, via Associated PressFor many, Jenna included, the movie “What’s Love Got to Do With It” (1993) has been their biggest reference point for Tina Turner up until this point. The biopic, which stars Angela Bassett as Turner, follows the artist’s life with her abusive first husband, Ike Turner.After watching “Tina” (2021), a documentary that recently dropped on HBO Max, Jenna realized how much of the singer’s narrative is missing from the 1993 film.“As incredible as that movie is, it’s not sufficient for her life story,” Jenna said. “It’s so painful to watch. It doesn’t lean enough into how much she shaped and changed music.”◆ ◆ ◆Her liberating live performances“Tina Turner is someone I regret never seeing live,” Jenna said. Her live performances were electric — like her 1988 concert in Rio de Janeiro. She was 48 at the time, on a tour that spanned over 200 dates. She was as fit and vibrant as ever, performing to a record-breaking crowd of over 180,000 people. Wesley remarked, “I mean, just to be one of those people screaming Tina Turner’s name. …”Hosted by: Jenna Wortham and Wesley MorrisProduced by: Elyssa Dudley and Mahima ChablaniEdited by: Sara Sarasohn and Sasha WeissEngineered by: Marion LozanoExecutive Producer, Shows: Wendy DorrExecutive Editor, Newsroom Audio: Lisa TobinAssistant Managing Editor: Sam DolnickSpecial thanks: Nora Keller, Julia Simon, Mahima Chablani and Desiree IbekweWesley Morris is a critic at large. He was awarded the 2012 Pulitzer Prize for his criticism while at The Boston Globe. He has also worked at Grantland, The San Francisco Chronicle and The San Francisco Examiner. @wesley_morrisJenna Wortham is a staff writer for The Times Magazine and co-editor of the book “Black Futures” with Kimberly Drew. @jennydeluxe More