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    For the Creators of ‘Adults,’ Maturity Is Overrated

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    Rebecca Shaw and Ben Kronengold graduated from college in 2018. At commencement, they gave a speech in which they talked about moving on from Yale. As the speech went on, it appeared that Shaw was also moving on from Kronengold. A video clip of the speech went viral, not least because Hillary Clinton, that year’s speaker, can be seen giggling at a joke about Yale’s endowment.Shaw and Kronengold were briefly famous. Days later, jobless, they moved back in with their respective parents. She returned to the Upper West Side. He was back on Long Island.“All of my autonomy and independence and this beautiful sense of self I’d cultivated, no one cared about it anymore,” Kronengold said.Shaw and Kronengold were still together — the breakup had been a comic bit — but separated by the L.I.R.R. They missed school, they missed their friends, they missed having a schedule and a sense of purpose. Adulthood, it turned out, was kind of a bummer.Bored and isolated, they began to sketch out a show about five housemates living together, clumsily, in Queens, New York, a “Friends” remade for an extremely online, acutely self-conscious Gen Z crowd.“We were clearly lonely and, like, imagining this fantasy where all our friends lived with us,” Kronengold said.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 Television

      How Did ‘Dancing With the Stars’ Become a Gen Z Hit? TikTok, Of Course.

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      After almost 20 years on air, the reality competition series made changes that brought a surge of younger viewers.The world has changed around “Dancing With the Stars” since the competition series became a hit after its 2005 premiere. Though producers have periodically experimented with casting, canned hosts and tweaked the elimination process, the heart of the show — pairs of professional dancers and celebrities performing weekly and facing elimination based on scores from judges and fan votes — has remained intact.That formula meant “D.W.T.S.” had an audience with a median age of 63.5 in 2022. But in the past two seasons — after almost 20 years and 500 episodes — the show has grabbed hold of Gen Z viewers through its canny use of TikTok, casting of younger dance pros and the chance virality of “wow moments” from routines.“We’ve kind of hit this tipping point where now we feed TikTok, TikTok feeds back to us,” said Conrad Green, the showrunner.Ahead of the Season 33 semifinals, Green and two of the show’s professional dancers, Rylee Arnold, 19, and Witney Carson, 31, explained their parts in making “Dancing With the Stars” a hit with Gen Z.Charli D’Amelio was an influencer contestant for the streaming era.In 2022, Disney execs removed “Dancing With the Stars” from network TV, making it available only via the Disney+ streaming app, a move aimed at drawing older viewers to the service, which predominantly catered to children from the ages 2 to 17.

      @officialdwts The countdown to #DisneyNight is on! Join us in ONE HOUR – 8/7c on ABC and Disney+. 🐭✨ #DWTS ♬ original sound – Dancing with the Stars #DWTS 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

    • 75 Shares129 Views

      in Television

      Myha’la, Star of HBO’s ‘Industry,’ Arrives

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      The one-name star of the HBO show “Industry” is composed under pressure.On a humider-than-humid afternoon in July, Myha’la stepped into a teahouse in her Brooklyn neighborhood and joined the line leading to the front counter.She was wearing a khaki skirt and a matching cropped jacket that revealed the panther tattoos on either side of her abdomen. Her nails were red — she had politely rejected her stylist’s suggestion to paint them brown — and her pixie cut was slick with gel.The menu seemed endless, with lists of flavors and foams that slowed down several customers placing their orders. Myha’la, a star of HBO’s Gen Z financial drama “Industry,” knew exactly what she wanted: An oolong latte with almond milk, boba and grass jelly.The woman she plays on the show, Harper Stern, is similarly decisive. As her fellow bright, young overachievers crumble beneath the fluorescent lights of a British investment bank, Harper sees each wobble by a colleague as an opportunity to place an even riskier bet on herself.“She’s got the sort of killer, quiet confidence that’s actually very dangerous,” Myha’la, 28, said, having installed herself at a counter facing State Street.When she landed the role on “Industry,” which returns for its third season on Sunday, it was her biggest acting job since she graduated from Carnegie Mellon in 2018. She didn’t have to look too hard to find common ground with the character, an ambitious young Black woman in an elite, cutthroat environment.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

    • 125 Shares179 Views

      in Music

      Should Slim Shady Be Canceled? Eminem’s Young Fans Say No.

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      The rapper unleashes more provocative lyrics on his 12th album, and new generations are defending him — rather than rushing to criticize him — online.Twenty-two years separated “Without Me,” Eminem’s cocky, impish and defiantly tasteless 2002 smash, from “Houdini,” the lead single from the rapper’s latest studio album, “The Death of Slim Shady (Coup de Grâce).” But the new track, with its sneering tone and catalog of quips that make punchlines out of both Megan Thee Stallion’s 2020 shooting and contemporary identity politics, transmits a resounding message: In the world of Eminem, nothing much has changed.Since the #MeToo movement exploded in 2017, reckonings around sexual harassment, toxic workplaces, body positivity and gender identity have changed cultural expectations for language and behavior. Young people, surprised at what the generations that preceded them endured and accepted, have largely led the charge, helping “cancel” offending figures in campaigns that ignite on social media.Yet Eminem — an artist who has made a career of thumbing his nose at social mores, rapping lyrics that can be seen as glorifying violence against women, mocking the infirm and normalizing homophobic slurs — has persisted. All nine of his albums released this century so far, including three since 2017, have debuted at No. 1 on the Billboard 200. “Houdini,” which came out in June, opened at No. 2 on the Hot 100 singles chart, his best solo showing since 2010.Eminem accepting a Grammy in 2003. His 12th album arrived on Friday.Vincent Laforet/The New York Times“The Death of Slim Shady,” Eminem’s 12th album, arrived on Friday, and what’s striking is how wide his support base remains — and specifically how much loyalty he has engendered among younger listeners who might be expected to find his wordplay offensive, if not abhorrent.For several years, a handful of online voices, amplified by the media, have helped stoke the notion that members of Gen Z would like to see Eminem retroactively canceled. (Eminem plays with the idea himself on the new album’s “Antichrist.”) Upon the release of “Houdini,” one TikTok user called out a lyric about a Siamese “transgender cat” that “identifies as Black” that seemed designed for maximum antagonism. In a widely viewed video, the poster scoffed at listeners who still engage with Eminem, 51, a figure he referred to as a “grandpa.”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

    • 188 Shares159 Views

      in Music

      In New TikTok Trend, Parents Dance Like It’s the ’80s and Bring Down the House

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      Videos of parents demonstrating their moves have been a surprise hit on a site where youth rules — perhaps because the trend isn’t played for laughs.TikTok can add a new skill to its résumé: disco time machine.The social platform, normally populated with an endless scroll of Gen Z-ers dancing — mostly in short choreographed routines that have been practiced and perfected — has recently been infused with the energy of a surprising demographic: their Gen X parents.In the viral videos, parents are asked by their adult children to dance as they would have back in the day to the 1984 sonic ear worm “Smalltown Boy,” by the British synth-pop band Bronski Beat. Most posts are tagged #momdancechallenge, #daddancechallenge or #80sdancechallenge, and they have racked up tens of millions of views.The reactions have been perhaps unexpected, because instead of going for laughs, the videos are cool, like really cool, serving as a portal to another era: when dance was more often improvisational and spontaneous, when people felt the beat and found the rhythm organically, moving without the constraints of a horizontal aspect ratio.When Valerie Martinez, 23, asked her mother, Yeanne Velazquez, 58, to participate, it was before the challenge had gone viral, and they had not prepared at all. “I didn’t even play the song for her before,” Martinez said in a phone interview this week alongside her mother. But Martinez was sure Velazquez would deliver, because her mother is always dancing, she said.It was nostalgic for Velazquez, who said that when the song was popular, she was about 19 and would go dancing in the one or two clubs in Puerto Rico, where she lived. Now she and her daughter live in Florida.

      @thatpersianqt she ate with this one I fear #fyp #foryou #80s #80sdancechallenge #momsoftiktok #80smusic ♬ Smalltown Boy – Bronski Beat

      @_miamimonkey Do we all have the same mom? 😂 I thought y’all were joking until I had her do it blindly 😂 @Savvy Sandy #fyp #foryou #foryoupage #80sdancemoves #80smusic ♬ Smalltown Boy – Bronski Beat 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

    • 150 Shares199 Views

      in Television

      As ‘Sex and the City’ Ages, Some Find the Cosmo Glass Half-Empty

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      As the show became more widely available on Netflix, younger viewers have watched it with a critical eye. But its longtime millennial and Gen X fans can’t quit.Most weeks, hundreds of people board a “Sex and the City” themed bus in Manhattan that takes them to the show’s most recognizable sites: Carrie Bradshaw’s apartment, her favorite brunch spot, a sex shop in the West Village. The tour usually ends with — what else? — a Cosmopolitan.“It never gets old,” said Georgette Blau, the owner of On Location Tours. It’s a three-and-a-half-hour entry into an aspirational world many of the riders had been watching for decades, she said.Twenty years since the series finale of “Sex and the City” aired, a new generation of television watchers has grown into adulthood. After all of the episodes were released on Netflix this month, media watchers wondered how the show — and Carrie’s behavior — might hold up for Gen Z.Would they be able to handle the occasional raunchiness of the show, the sometimes toxic relationships? Were the references outdated? “Can Gen Z Even Handle Sex and the City?” Vanity Fair asked. (For its part, Gen Z seems to vacillate between being uninterested and lightly appalled about what they consider to be a period piece.)The show had a very different effect on its longtime fans, many of them a generation or two older. When it aired, “Sex and the City” changed the conversation around how women dated, developed friendships and moved about the world in their 30s and 40s.Even if some of the show’s character arcs aged poorly, many of its original fans still relate to Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte and Miranda, no matter how unrealistic it may have been to live on the Upper East Side with a walk-in closet full of Manolo Blahniks on the salary of a weekly newspaper columnist.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

    • 125 Shares189 Views

      in Television

      Nickelodeon and Disney Stars Find a Second Act on Podcasts

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      The cast of the Nickelodeon series “Ned’s Declassified School Survival Guide” are among the stars of 2000s teen sitcoms who are using podcasts to connect with their Gen Z and millennial fan bases.For three years starting when he was just 12 years old, Devon Werkheiser dispensed advice for bearing the indignities of middle school as the title character in the Nickelodeon series “Ned’s Declassified School Survival Guide.” Two decades later, he said, people still recognize him as Ned Bigby.“There was a time when I wanted to transcend ‘Ned’s,’” Werkheiser said, “but maybe it’s the answer in getting me where I want to go.”Now 33, he’s made peace with his past and is still giving tips to his peers, only he is using a more modern medium. In “Ned’s Declassified Podcast Survival Guide,” he and his former “Ned’s” castmates Lindsey Shaw and Daniel Curtis Lee dish about the show, which aired from 2004 to 2007, and open up about past personal and career struggles.The three are among a cohort of former stars, many from Nickelodeon and Disney Channel shows from the 2000s, who have started podcasts as a way of connecting with a nostalgic Gen Z and millennial fan base. In doing so, they are embracing roles that they played as children and teenagers — characters that some had spent years trying to move beyond, with mixed success.“Part of the truth is, if any of our careers were maybe further along, maybe we wouldn’t be doing podcasts,” Werkheiser said in an interview. “There are comments that speak to that as if we don’t know.”Since the “Ned’s” podcast debuted in February 2023, several exchanges have caused a stir among its 717,000 TikTok followers. Shaw, who played Moze on the show, spoke about her past struggles with substance abuse. Werkheiser gave an emotional account of his time on the set of the troubled Alec Baldwin western “Rust.” And he and Shaw punctured the innocent image of their old show with an awkward exchange about their fumbling offscreen sexual encounters.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

    • 125 Shares119 Views

      in Movies

      Looking to Watch Movies and Make Friends? Join the Club.

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      Around New York City, there’s a robust circle of film enthusiasts showing offbeat movies in bars and shops, where lingering afterward is welcomed.At Heart of Gold, a cozy bar in Queens, a mad scientist recently brought to life a corpse that went on a blood-drenched rampage. But the people nursing their beers there didn’t call the authorities. They cheered.That’s because the undead were marauding on a screen, set up at the front of the bar, that was illuminated by “Re-Animator,” Stuart Gordon’s 1985 horror-science fiction splatterfest. The occasion was a Monday night gathering of the Astoria Horror Club, which meets regularly to watch scary movies over hot dogs, mulled wine and other anything-but-popcorn concessions.Before the film, Tom Herrmann and Madeleine Koestner, the club’s co-founders, introduced “Re-Animator” with a trigger warning about a sexual assault scene and a reminder to generously tip the staff. About 35 people watched the movie seated, but others stood, complementing the onscreen mayhem with shrieking, gasping and, as a decapitated head got tossed around, an explosion of applause.The Astoria Horror Club is just one of many film clubs that, while not new in concept, are quietly thriving in and around New York City. At many of these events, movies are shown not in traditional theaters but in bars, shops and other makeshift spaces, for small groups of people, many of whom arrive early for good seats and stay afterward to gush and vent.The screenings are open to the public, but mostly it’s Gen Zers and millennials who are joining strangers to watch movies that, in many cases, are for niche tastes and were made before streaming was a thing.These kinds of films are programmed regularly at the city’s revival houses, like Film Forum and Metrograph. But what these film clubs offer is ample space and time, where debate and friendships can blossom without leaving your seat. For cheap, too: At chain theaters, tickets can be more than $20 apiece, not including food and drinks. Many of these film clubs are free to attend, although patrons are asked to pony up for beer or bites.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

    • 88 Shares159 Views

      in Theater

      ‘Zoomers’ Review: Just Don’t Kill the Vibes

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      Gen Z’s reputation for conflict avoidance, and the way digital media abets it, is a recurring theme in the latest by the “Dimes Square” playwright Matthew Gasda.“Zoomers,” the new play written and directed by Matthew Gasda, explores the specific milieu of artsy 20-something transplants, largely the same population that frequents the Greenpoint loft of the Brooklyn Center for Theater Research, where the show is currently running.It’s immediately clear that the 30-something Gasda, whose 2022 play “Dimes Square” captured the crowd of artists, writers and scenesters in New York City’s downtown, has spent significant time observing his younger subjects. With the exception of a few awkward phrases, his naturalistic play captures the way Gen Z talks.“Zoomers” opens with three roommates ambling around their Brooklyn apartment in Bushwick, a land where shaggy hair is a personality trait and hard kombucha might as well be on tap. Michael (Jonah O’Hara-David), Jacob (Henry Lynch), and Jada (Reneé-Nicole Powell) are recovering from a night of respective drinking, smoking weed and existential dread. The cure for their ills? Intense rounds of Super Smash Bros.The video game is their other vice. For the emotionally stunted Jacob in particular, it’s a pleasurable escape whenever conversations get too heated. Any time characters dare to reveal their anguish — Michael’s commute is interrupted when a man jumps in front of the L train; Jada dreams of metastasizing tumors in her eyes — their traumas are swept aside by a call to play Smash or a damning accusation of killing the “vibes.” It is not until the penultimate scene of the play, when a new roommate named Ella (Sophia Englesberg) presses her much older architect boyfriend (George Olesky) about his emotional detachment, that we see any of the characters scale the hump of adversity and land somewhere close to catharsis.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?  More