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    ‘Bodkin’ Review: Crime in a Small Town? Send in the Podcasters

    This Netflix series is about a true-crime podcast but plays more like a mopey murder show.There are worse shows to imitate than “Only Murders in the Building,” and perhaps “Bodkin,” premiering Thursday on Netflix, would be better if it had tried. It too is about the creation of a true-crime podcast, set in an enclave where quirky conflicts simmer for decades. It too pokes fun at the inanity of some podcasts, and it tries to weave a comedic pep into its pathos.But “Bodkin,” created by Jez Scharf and executive produced by Barack and Michelle Obama, among others, takes more inspiration from mopey foreign murder shows. It has that common pervasive dampness along with plenty of clannish townspeople who resent these nosy Nellies poking around where they have no business. None! [Cue the jangling of the bells hung above the doorway in a quaint shop.]Yes, there is a spooky local festival, and yes, the town’s top pastime is keeping dark secrets. No one asks direct questions, nor can anyone speak for long without drifting into a dreamy parable. The show is set in the present day, but the surroundings feel ancient.Our town here is Bodkin, a (fictional) Irish village where years ago, during the annual celebration of Samhain (a Gaelic proto-Halloween), three people disappeared. Now our podcasters are on the case: Gilbert (Will Forte), a mostly cheery American with some successful podcasts under his belt; Dove (Siobhan Cullen), a Dublin-raised, London-based reporter who perceives this assignment as a banishment; and Emmy (Robyn Cara), the eager research assistant who tolerates their shabby treatment. Gilbert is vaguely dopey but ingratiating. Dove is so sour she could pickle a sociopath. To the show’s credit, at least they do not hook up with each other.Dove says that true-crime stories aren’t real journalism, and while we’re led to believe she is an ace reporter, she seems unfamiliar with one of the core aspects of news gathering: earning the trust of potential sources. She is surly and rude to nearly everyone she meets. She breaks into a library after hours just because she’s impatient. Back in London, she had promised to protect a whistle-blower’s identity, but his name leaked somehow, and he later killed himself. This arc never fully meshes with the rest of the show, and it plays out mostly in terse phone calls. But everything with Dove is so one-note, it’s hard to see the specifics of her disrespect. Similarly, Gilbert’s money trouble and failing marriage — more phone calls — feel like tacked-on inventions rather than enriching character depth.Will there ever be a show in which a female journalist doesn’t sleep with a source or subject? The search continues. Emmy falls for the local tech wunderkind and Dove for the sharp funeral director. Gilbert too becomes awfully enmeshed, befriending Seamus (David Wilmot), a local fisherman with a, yes, fishy past. Forte and Wilmot have the most interesting chemistry in the show: Gilbert is eager for good sound bites and Seamus loves to pontificate, but their deeper purposes are at odds. Neither can fully mask his prickly distrust, but both are desperate for the connection anyway. It’s a dangerous, fruitful combo.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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    Netflix Takes Comedy Live With Tom Brady Roast and Katt Williams Special

    Sometimes that’s a good thing, as with John Mulaney’s variety show “Everybody’s in L.A.” But the Katt Williams special and Tom Brady roast were more uneven.On Friday night, in the premiere of his appealingly chaotic livestreaming variety show “Everybody’s in L.A.,” which runs every night this week, John Mulaney delivered a monologue about his adopted city next to a map that broke it down into a crooked jigsaw puzzle of neighborhoods.In his distinctive staccato cadence that could sell steak knives or a card trick as convincingly as the premise of a joke, he said, “One thing that unites every part of Los Angeles is that no matter where you go, there is zero sense of community.”For comedy fans, this past week felt different, because everywhere you went in Los Angeles, Netflix was there, blanketing the city in ads and shows for its Netflix Is a Joke Fest, running through May 12. It’s the biggest comedy showcase of the year (with more than 500 offerings, a 40 percent increase from the festival’s already mammoth debut event in 2022) but also something of a corporate flex. Who else could get Hannah Gadsby and Shane Gillis in the same festival or draw the talk-show titans Jon Stewart and David Letterman to host events? Or recruit Chris Rock to play the Billy Crystal role in a reading of the screenplay for “When Harry Met Sally,” with, as Rock introduced it, “an all-Black cast, like it was originally intended.” (Tracee Ellis Ross doing Meg Ryan’s fake orgasm, but louder, received standing ovations from the audience and onstage participants, too.)The most newsworthy shift this year was the aggressive move into livestreaming events, following the blockbuster success of Chris Rock’s 2023 special, “Selective Outrage,” about being slapped at the Oscars. (One of that ceremony’s hosts, Wanda Sykes, returned to the place it happened, the Dolby Theater, for a festival show and began by saying this time no one would get assaulted).For the live events, Netflix picked stars with current buzz. Along with the Mulaney variety show, Katt Williams followed up his viral “Club Shay Shay” interview with a new hour, “Woke Foke,” on Saturday, and Kevin Hart, whom Williams singled out in his interview for criticism, tried to bring back the dormant genre of celebrity roast on Sunday with “The Greatest Roast of All Time,” starring Tom Brady, widely considered the GOAT of quarterbacks. (After livestreaming, the shows can be watched on Netflix, sometimes in edited form.)As the last half-century of “Saturday Night Live” has proved, there is an undeniable excitement to live comedy, an irreplaceable energy that can create a sense of event. But there are significant dangers, not the least of which is that you can’t cut the boring or unfunny parts. Netflix built its comedy empire on elevating the standup special as an art form to rival film or TV. Highlighting live comedy represents a commercial move for Netflix, spotlighting events that promise unpredictability more than refinement, mess instead of polish.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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    What to Know about ‘Unfrosted’ and the Real History of Pop-Tarts

    In his directorial debut, Jerry Seinfeld tackles the history of the fruit-filled pastries … kind of. Here’s the real origin story, along with a bonus quiz.First, there was the Flamin’ Hot Cheetos biopic (complete with an Oscar-nominated song). Then came “Tetris”; “Air,” about Nike Air Jordan sneakers; “BlackBerry”; and “Barbie.”It is, in other words, a golden age for product-origin-story movies.The latest is “Unfrosted: The Pop-Tarts Story,” a satirical history that Jerry Seinfeld has expanded from his stand-up act. The film, which he directed and stars in alongside Jim Gaffigan, Hugh Grant and Amy Schumer, arrives Friday on Netflix. Unlike its predecessors, it’s not really concerned with actual events. Here’s what to know about the true history of the Pop-Tart — and what the movie gets right and wrong.But first, how did Kellogg’s and Post both end up with headquarters in Battle Creek, Mich.?You would think ground zero in the Breakfast Wars of the 1960s might be somewhere most people could locate on a map. But Battle Creek, Mich., was home to the Battle Creek Sanitarium, known for its water and fresh air treatments, and managed by Will Keith Kellogg and his brother, John Harvey Kellogg. W.K. Kellogg developed a method of creating crunchy pieces of processed grain for his patients (read: Corn Flakes), and one of those patients, C.W. Post, would go on to start his own company in 1895 selling several foods that were veeeery similar to those at the sanitarium.W.K. Kellogg noticed Post profiting from his recipes and established his own firm in 1906, the Battle Creek Toasted Corn Flake Company. Within three years, it was cranking out more than 100,000 boxes of Corn Flakes a day, and, thanks to the success of Kellogg, Post and many other cereal companies, Battle Creek became known as the Cereal City. Who were the real Edsel Kellogg III and Marjorie Merriweather Post?Melissa McCarthy, Seinfeld and Jim Gaffigan in “Unfrosted.”Columbus 81 ProductionsThe bumbling chief executive of Kellogg’s, played by Gaffigan, is fictional (thank goodness). On the other hand, Marjorie Merriweather Post — the General Foods owner whom Schumer portrays as a turban-wearing caricature — was one of the first female chief executives and, for most of her life, considered the wealthiest woman in America. (Today she may be best known for building Mar-a-Lago, now Donald J. Trump’s base.)Did Post really come up with a toaster-prepared breakfast pastry first?Yes. In the 1960s, Post, then the biggest competitor to Kellogg’s, invented a process of partly dehydrating food and wrapping it in foil to keep it fresh; no refrigeration required. The process was initially used for dog food, but it also allowed fruit filling in, say, a toaster-prepared breakfast pastry to stay both moist and bacteria-free. (And yes, it was actually Post’s idea, not one ripped off from a Kellogg’s employee via a hidden vacuum cam.)Was the Post product really called Country Squares?Unfortunately, yes. The name was later changed to its current Toast’em Pop Ups, but is that really much better?How did Country Squares and Pop-Tarts end up hitting shelves the same year?Post jumped the gun and unveiled Country Squares to the press in February 1964, four months before they were ready to sell, allowing Kellogg’s time to frantically rustle up its own, much-better-named version.Did Bob Cabana really create the Pop-Tart?Nope, the “Unfrosted” flack (played by Seinfeld) is fictional. The man who helped create Pop-Tarts was a manager named William Post (yes, really), who died in February at 96.Gaffigan, left, Seinfeld, Fred Armisen and McCarthy with boxes of the film’s version of Pop-Tarts with an early (made-up) name.Columbus 81 ProductionsWhat was an actual rejected name for the Pop-Tart?The ones in the film — Fruit-Magoos, Heat ’Em Up and Eat ’Em Ups, Oblong Nibblers, Trat Pops — are made up. But the real rejected name — Fruit Scones — wasn’t much catchier. The final name, coined by a Kellogg’s executive, William LaMothe, was inspired by Pop Art, the contemporary cultural movement.Were Pop-Tarts really an overnight hit?Yes, but the first shipment to stores sold out in two weeks, not 60 seconds, as in “Unfrosted.” Kellogg’s apologized, in advertisements, but this only increased demand. (They were restocked before long.)Were the first flavors really unfrosted?Yes. The original flavors — all unfrosted — were Apple Currant Jelly, Strawberry, Blueberry and Brown Sugar-Cinnamon. The first frosted ones — Dutch Apple, Concord Grape, Raspberry and Brown Sugar-Cinnamon — didn’t hit the market until 1967. (William Post came up with the idea, disproving skeptics who believed the icing would melt in the toaster.) The next year, sprinkles were added to some of the frosted ones.Did Kellogg’s really advertise Pop-Tarts without a mascot?It did, though the decision didn’t set off a Hugh Grant-led mascot rebellion, as in “Unfrosted.” Kellogg’s rectified the omission in 1971, introducing Milton the Toaster. (The little guy didn’t make it out of the 1970s.)Which of these flavors are real?The past few decades have been a smorgasbord of Pop-Tart flavors, some very short-lived. Can you spot the four real flavors here?Chocolate PeppermintFroot LoopsGuava MangoHarry Potter Special Edition: Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans, PopcornMaple BaconTwizzlersAnswer: Chocolate Peppermint, Froot Loops, Guava Mango and Maple Bacon Pop-Tarts have all been on shelves at some point. The Harry Potter Bertie Bott’s Popcorn and Twizzlers flavors remain the stuff of our fever dreams. More

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    What to Know About ‘Baby Reindeer,’ Netflix’s True-ish TV Hit

    The mini-series, based on the star’s experiences, has viewers wondering how much of it is real. Here’s the back story.Some spoilers follow.“Baby Reindeer,” Netflix’s absorbing, claustrophobic seven-episode thriller, has been an unexpected global hit — a success made even more surprising given its intense themes. It is far and away the most-watched show on Netflix, according to the streamer’s publicly released numbers, dwarfing every other show on the platform.The mini-series follows the character of Donny Dunn, a bartender and floundering comedian trying to navigate the fog of trauma and cobble together a sense of self while being mercilessly stalked and tormented by a woman named Martha, with whom he maintains a codependent connection, despite the harassment. The title refers to one of Martha’s many nicknames for Donny.Here’s what’s real about “Baby Reindeer,” and what viewers seem most curious about.Yes, That Is the Real Guy“Baby Reindeer” is the work of Richard Gadd, 34, who plays Donny, a slightly fictionalized version of himself. And if you were wondering how a regular guy could be such a confident, complex actor, it’s because he is a seasoned, award-winning performer who parlayed his autobiographical one-man show, titled “Baby Reindeer,” into the series, for which he wrote every episode.But once upon a time, he was the self-loathing performer we see depicted. “Baby Reindeer” takes meta storytelling to new levels.Yes, It Is Based on His Real ExperiencesEarly in the first episode, a message across the screen reads, “This is a true story.” And it is.“It’s all emotionally 100 percent true,” Gadd, who was the real-life victim of the stalking, said in a recent interview with Variety. “It’s all borrowed from instances that happened to me and real people that I met.” True with the caveat that “for both legal and artistic reasons,” as he put it, details had to be changed. “You can’t just copy somebody else’s life and name and put it onto television,” he said. “We were very aware that some characters in it are vulnerable people,” he added, “so you don’t want to make their lives more difficult.”The series is largely punctuated by language from real messages sent by his stalker (played by Jessica Gunning), which we see typed out onscreen. In his one-man show, a 70-minute monologue that premiered at Edinburgh Festival Fringe and would go on to win an Olivier Award (Britain’s equivalent of the Tonys), Gadd played her voice mail messages to the audience, and projections of her emails scrolled across the venue’s ceiling.According to Gadd, she sent him over 41,000 emails, tweeted at him hundreds of times and left him 350 hours of voice mail over the course of a few years.For the series, certain timelines were moved around “to make them pay off a little better,” he said. Nonetheless, “it’s a very true story.”Gadd Has Asked Viewers Not to Dig …While the saga, at first glance, is one of stalking and obsession, it is equally about the life-shattering effects of sexual assault. In the fourth episode, Gadd’s character is repeatedly drugged, assaulted and raped by a powerful television writer named Darrien O’Connor (played by Tom Goodman-Hill) who’d made false promises to help catapult the comedian’s career. (The sexual assaults were explored in Gadd’s earlier solo show “Monkey See Monkey Do.”)“Abuse leaves an imprint,” Gadd recently told GQ magazine. “Especially abuse like this where it’s repeated with promises.”The depiction of the abuse is graphic and disturbing, and knowing that the characters were based on real people prompted great interest in the identities behind them. But Gadd was quick to urge viewers to stop investigating. “Please don’t speculate on who any of the real-life people could be,” he wrote on Instagram. “That’s not the point of our show.”… Yet Viewers Keep DiggingAs more and more people binge the show, social media platforms have become amateur detective rings, with viewers trying to suss out the identities of the characters. The British writer and director Sean Foley was the subject of online threats when some thought that he was the real-life Darrien character.“Police have been informed and are investigating all defamatory abusive and threatening posts against me,” Foley said in a post on X (formerly Twitter) in late April.On Instagram, Gadd defended Foley specifically, writing, “People I love, have worked with, and admire (including Sean Foley) are unfairly getting caught up in speculation.”In the first episode, Gadd’s character searches Martha’s name online and uncovers a trove of articles about her past stalking — “Serial Stalker Sentenced to Four and Half Years,” reads one headline — which led some online sleuths to try to find the actual versions of those same articles.The show has become such a phenomenon that The Daily Mail published an interview with a woman purporting to be the “real” Martha, lodging her complaints about the show, though her name was not disclosed.When GQ asked Gadd what the stalker might make of the show, he said, “I honestly couldn’t speak as to whether she would watch it,” calling her “an idiosyncratic person.”“We’ve gone to such great lengths to disguise her to the point that I don’t think she would recognize herself,” he said. “What’s been borrowed is an emotional truth, not a fact-by-fact profile of someone.” More

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    Katt Williams Wants to Show You the Receipts

    After setting the internet aflame earlier this year when he slammed several other comedians in a viral interview, he plans to say more of what’s on his mind in a rare live special on Netflix.In the crowded landscape of athlete podcasts, “Club Shay Shay,” hosted by the retired N.F.L. star Shannon Sharpe, mostly served sports fans and observers of Black Hollywood since it started in 2020 with interviews with DaBaby and Deion Sanders.That was until Katt Williams appeared on the show in January and for nearly three hours delivered an incendiary, rollicking and, at points, curiously uplifting interview that pervaded the internet like nothing else this year. Williams accused other big-name comedians of stealing jokes and movie roles from him, riffed on why partying with Diddy (or Jeffrey Epstein or Harvey Weinstein) is a bad idea, asserted that he read 3,000 books a year as a child and claimed that at 52, he was capable of running a 40-yard dash in less than 5 seconds.The interview has been viewed more than 67 million times on YouTube, numbers that put it on par with Joe Rogan’s blazing episode with Elon Musk, the industry high-water mark for video podcasts. Its most outrageous moments have been shared, excerpted and spoofed on so many other platforms that even that figure understates its impact. According to Williams, who said he wrote out his part of the dialogue in advance, it’s just what happens when he sets the record straight.“I’m quite likely to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help me God,” he said during the interview.Beyond raising Sharpe’s numbers, the spot helped Williams move tickets to his “Dark Matter” tour and got the PGA interested in hosting him at T.P.C. Sawgrass, the golf course that serves as a playground for pros and that most others will see only by plugging in “PGA Tour Golf” into their PlayStations. On the course, in between shots, he says he made his nuclear-option remarks carefully, responding to rumors — in some cases, told by people he spoke up about — that have dogged him for years about drug use, erratic behavior and arrests (though, he said, no convictions). “I thought that I had worked out a way of breaking the internet, and I felt pretty confident,” he said with a Mr. Rogers level of thoughtfulness. “So I wrote it kind of like a one-man movie, with the intention of its outcome. And — —”“You’re great, Katt,” a man trills as he passes in his golf cart.“Thank you so much,” Williams replies, then pulls to a stop.When Dave Chappelle responded to the “Club Shay Shay” podcast by saying, “Why are you drawing ugly pictures of us?” Williams said it stung.Rose Marie Cromwell for The New York Times“If I let it go at this point, they can actually rewrite history,” he says. Few things unnerve him more than a poor chronicling of facts. That’s probably because few people are better at weaving narratives that seem too incredible not to be true, like when he describes how he taught himself to fall asleep in exactly 59 seconds. (“It wasn’t something I knew I needed but it’s changed my [expletive] life!”)The things that make Katt Williams such a great raconteur — he is diligent about numbers, inexhaustible in his curiosity and meticulous about his delivery — have made him a persistent presence in comedy since he emerged from the standup world over 30 years ago, through regular appearances on the improv sketch show “Wild ’N Out” and as a scene-stealing dervish in movies like “Friday After Next.” That his improbable rise from homelessness to one of the most prolific, and profitable, comics of his generation isn’t looked on as a feat of craft and yeoman effort, well, that was a record that needed straightening. Williams grabbed even the furthest corners of the internet to do so, and now that he’s got everyone’s attention he is gearing up for the ultimate told-you-so — “Woke Foke,” set to air globally on Saturday. It’s Netflix’s second-ever live special after Chris Rock’s last year. Williams, who does not work his material in clubs partly because of the looming threat of joke-stealing, has been prepping his material on a 100-date arena tour where audiences were not asked to lock away their phones. It seems a sure way to spoil the act he and Netflix are banking big on. It’s also a show of extreme faith in his current set, and will make for a high-wire debut for the roughly 25 percent of new material he’ll deliver live in Los Angeles.“He’s one of the most exceptional improvisational comedians of our time,” says Robbie Praw, Netflix’s vice president of standup and comedy formats. “He does often change his material close to tapings, which is a key reason why he was the perfect person to be our second live special. Because there is something super exciting about that. When there’s no script, there’s no net.”Or as Williams himself puts it, “The benefit of Katt Williams live is that you don’t, in any way, know what he’s going to say.”THOUGH HE USUALLY PLAYS golf alongside the retired athletes he’s friends with or someone from the tour crew, today Williams plays this round effectively solo. An assistant named Rhonda trails him in a separate cart driven by a cigar-smoking bodyguard. Later, he calls out to Rhonda, who dutifully takes photos when Williams points up at the trees that rim a rippling green, where two bald eagles have alighted on branches near their nest. “Look at that,” Williams marvels through an open-mouthed grin.Over the round, he’ll point out a peregrine falcon swooping in to feed, stop in the middle of a fairway to show Rhonda and a caddie a woodpecker that has gotten thisclose to severing a branch, and sprint across one tee box to stand under a magnolia tree and catch its wafting perfume. He’s got dozens of them lining his 100-acre farm, he says.That sprint to the magnolia, and several more full-speed runs from fairway back to the golf cart, each have the same track-star form he showed in an Emmy-winning cameo on “Atlanta” that ended with his character bolting from the house where he’d kept both his girlfriend and an alligator illegally. Williams displayed that same running form when he showed up at the Dallas Cowboys’ facility in February and ran a 40-yard dash in 4.97 seconds. His claim on Sharpe’s podcast seemed suspect until Williams clocked the time in front of an audience, while wearing Dior sneakers.Williams left his home in Ohio at 13 over a religious dispute with his parents and landed in Miami, where he says he supported himself stealing car radios and cleaning restaurants. His stint in a homeless encampment introduced him to addicts, many of whom had once been high-functioning professionals. The extent to which those stories informed his reaction to the drug rumors is in the numbers, too. He still does 100 push-ups and 100 sit-ups a day. That 40-yard-dash time, it’s denial through demonstration.To those who accuse him of using, he says, “at some point, even as an idiot, you’re going to have to acknowledge that these drugs should be taking some toll on me. At some point, I shouldn’t be better and faster and stronger because of them.”Williams has an allegiance to numbers typically reserved for athletes and actuaries, and it’s apparent in the quantifiable way he breaks down his sets. “I try to write the seven to 10 most [expletive] things that I think,” he says, “and I try to make that into the comedy show.” An hourlong special comprises 10 to 12 stand-alone pieces, which usually leaves him looking to add a bit or two as he’s writing. For this run, he says he’s needed to pare down what started as a 90-minute set.On the road, Williams hones an act by watching footage of the previous night for the first 30 or so dates. “My job is to let this guy know, ‘Hey, you’re looking old out there, like, you going to work this stage?’” he says, adding that he’s most often not refining the words but the delivery — a bigger gesture, a different tilt of his head.Williams has been writing and performing and refining in this way for 37 years, ever since he won a standup competition in Ruskin, Fla., at 16. The prize was a five-minute opening slot on a tour that featured Richard Jeni, Jeff Foxworthy and Dan Whitney, later known as Larry the Cable Guy.“He respects the craft,” says Mo’Nique, who is touring with Williams for the first time on “Dark Matter.” “He respects the ones that came before him. He respects those doors being open. He respects the obligation of, the craft of being a comedian.”HIS REVERENCE FOR JOURNEYMEN COMICS, those who prove their mettle on live stages night after night, fueled many of the shots Williams took during the Sharpe interview at funnymen who no longer work the circuit, or those who had gotten specials without a lengthy road history. He felt assured in his criticisms, and that there wouldn’t be effective retaliation, he says, “because there’s no big dogs for them to call other than Chappelle, and Chappelle would never cross me. Dun dun dun dun, and then he did!”Williams is referring to Dave Chappelle’s response to the beefs onstage, saying, “Katt is one of the best painters in the game. So why are you drawing ugly pictures of us?”Though the question stung (Williams referred to Chappelle as “the king”), Williams stood by his attack: “If I came to tell you a beautiful story, I would have painted you a beautiful picture. I was trying to paint a story of a group of ugly [expletive] that would do things that would hurt you and uplift them, even though they didn’t need to do that. And then instead of helping you or befriending you, that they would,” he pauses to let out a disbelieving sigh, “go so far as to steal from you if they couldn’t emulate you and then lie about you.”While waiting for the foursome ahead to finish a late-round hole, Williams entertains the question of whether art can be competitive. “History is just a collection of the people that did things the best,” he says between drags of a prerolled joint. Williams brings up Mozart and Chopin, masters who have been studied for centuries.“The benefit of Katt Williams live is that you don’t, in any way, know what he’s going to say,” Williams said.Rose Marie Cromwell for The New York TimesThat’s his aim in comedy, he says. “I will, without question, be one of the greatest comedians that ever lived just because of the body of work.”Williams means for his 12 specials to be assessed as a whole. It’s a yearslong conversation with an audience that began in 2006’s “Pimp Chronicles Pt. 1,” his electric big-league introduction that built to a flaming indictment of a different celebrity, Michael Jackson, two years before the pop star’s death and a decade before the “Leaving Neverland” documentary.His more recent specials have skewed toward topics that tend to send people down conspiracy rabbit holes. On a 2023 Marc Maron podcast episode, Williams said he swapped out about half of the material in his 2022 “World War III” special after touring and receiving notes from Netflix about the show’s darkness, which he said was “turned up viciously high” around race and religion. The set still hit one of its funniest peaks in a riff on how the Nazis became such a fearsome military — by producing and consuming methamphetamine. He told Maron he’d be happy if listeners Googled whether that was true.The night after his round of golf, Williams’s sold-out audience at VyStar Veterans Memorial Arena in Jacksonville looks perfect for national election polling. There are women in extended-size bodycon dresses, men in Tommy Bahama-esque shirts and couples in matching satin short sets, carrying yard dogs filled with frozen rum runners to their seats.Williams works through a brisk set, zipping darts at Diddy and Ron DeSantis, with a knockdown bit about white slavery. When it’s done, lounging in a locker room where Chet Baker’s version of “My Funny Valentine” rings out against the tiles, Williams suggests that the live Netflix show might delve into touchier topics, if they exist. “I can’t discuss, maybe, Israel and Palestine and Iran until live?”The key to skirting flammable topics and still landing a laugh, he says, is “no matter what joke I’m telling or who the focus of that joke is, the thing that you’re supposed to get from it is that my heart is in the right place. But I see what I see.” More

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    Why Is ‘Baby Reindeer’ Such a Hit? It’s All in the Ending.

    The Netflix stalker series combines the appeal of a twisty thriller with a deep sense of empathy. The conclusion illustrates why it’s become one of the most-discussed shows of the year.This article includes spoilers for all of “Baby Reindeer.”The mini-series “Baby Reindeer” arrived on Netflix on April 11 without much advance hype, but it quickly became one of the most talked-about TV shows of 2024.It’s not hard to understand why. Based on the Scottish comedian Richard Gadd’s award-winning 2019 one-man stage show, “Baby Reindeer” baits its hook in the first episode, which introduces Martha (Jessica Gunning), an emotionally fragile middle-aged woman who appreciates the kindness shown to her by Donny (Gadd), a struggling stand-up comic who offers her a free drink in the pub where he works.By the end of that first episode, Martha’s neediness has begun to shade into creepiness. And by the time Donny discovers that his new friend has a history of stalking, she’s already begun what will eventually become a torrent of abuse, as she floods his email and social media with poorly spelled messages that insult his character and sometimes threaten sexual violence.What makes “Baby Reindeer” so effective is that as Martha pushes further and further into Donny’s personal life — attending his comedy shows, befriending his landlady, calling his parents — the audience shares his mounting feelings of powerlessness and frustration, cut with flashes of pity for the woman who is ruining his life. The show has the “slow-motion train wreck” appeal of a twisty true-crime documentary, but balanced with empathy for two profoundly broken people.A story as dark and uneasy as this one needs a proper ending, though. “Baby Reindeer” has one that is satisfying in its particulars, if haunting in its implications.Gadd (who wrote every episode) plants the seeds for the finale in the penultimate episode, the sixth, which ends with Donny having a career-altering meltdown while competing in a stand-up comedy contest. Donny’s comic style is highly conceptual, involving corny props and awkward jokes, designed to leave his audience wondering whether or not they’re meant to laugh. He’s like a Scottish (and much less effective) version of Steve Martin in his “Wild and Crazy Guy” days. (Or, as Donny puts it: “I’m a comedian when they laugh, a performance artist when they don’t.”)When the crowd can’t get on his wavelength at the competition, Donny ditches his props and just talks, sharing with a stunned audience the story that we have been watching for the previous five episodes. He tells them about how when he was a young and inexperienced comedian, he took an unpaid gig working for Darrien O’Connor (Tom Goodman-Hill), a well-respected TV writer who repeatedly drugged and sexually assaulted him. He tells them about his transgender girlfriend, Teri (Nava Mau), whom he’s too embarrassed to kiss in public.And, of course, he tells them about Martha, the angel and the devil on his shoulders: sometimes telling him how sweet, funny and handsome he is, and sometimes calling him a weak-willed, talentless degenerate.Gadd and Jessica Gunning in “Baby Reindeer.” Donny and Martha’s bond is deeper than it initially appears.Ed Miller/NetflixAs the show’s seventh and final episode opens, a video of Donny’s train-wreck performance has landed on YouTube (under the title “Comedian Has Epic Breakdown”), bringing him viral fame and new opportunities. The pressure of that higher profile — coupled with Martha’s ceaseless string of threatening voice mail messages — prompts Donny to confide in his unexpectedly sympathetic parents about being raped. All of these confessions feel liberating.Not too long after, one of Martha’s threats is dire enough to get her arrested — and eventually jailed. Gadd brings the conflict between Donny and Martha to a logical conclusion, with Martha finally acknowledging the harm she’s done by pleading guilty.So Donny lives happily … but not for ever after. More like for a day or two.The unsettling ambiguities of the “Baby Reindeer” epilogue — the real ending, which comes after Martha is safely locked away — are a big part of what has made the show a word-of-mouth hit.First, Donny finds himself going back over Martha’s old messages, and turning every one of their past interactions into pieces of a puzzle that he then pins up on his wall — like a detective trying to crack a complicated case. His inquiry even leads him back to the doorstep of the man who molested him, where Donny falls into an old pattern of deference and eagerness to please.Then, in the series’s knockout closing scene, a bartender gives a teary-eyed Donny a free drink, echoing what Donny once did for Martha. What makes Donny so upset? Take your pick: He’s still processing what Martha and Darrien have done to him. He’s furious with himself for not standing up to his abuser. He attained the fame he always craved and found that it didn’t solve his problems.The final trigger comes when, as he listens to one of Martha’s old messages, he hears her explain that she always calls him “reindeer” because he reminds her of the stuffed toy that comforted her during a rough childhood. For a moment, this former terrifying nuisance goes back to being a person worthy of understanding and even grace. Or maybe, again, it’s actually empathy: Donny ending the story in the same state in which he first encountered Martha makes manifest the bond between them.Part of the global popularity of “Baby Reindeer” is no doubt a result of the web sleuth dimension — the online rush to identify the real figures behind Martha and Darrien. Gadd has discouraged such speculation, and innocent people have been accused.But much of the show’s distinctive appeal comes from how, at a time when trauma narratives almost have become cliché in high-end TV drama, “Baby Reindeer” presents a more nuanced version of one. It authentically depicts trauma and mental illness as confusing, unpredictable and deeply personal, all of which is underscored by the emotional ambivalence of its conclusion.Donny finally achieves success but is ambivalent about it.Ed Miller/Netflix“Baby Reindeer” relies a lot on its subjective point of view. Donny’s voice-over narration dominates every episode, recounting in vivid detail his disgust with himself. The series’s two directors, Weronika Tofilska and Josephine Bornebusch, often keep the camera trained on Donny’s face, capturing his feelings of disorientation as even his best moments are disrupted by Martha’s constant intrusions. Viewers are drawn deep into Donny’s neuroses, which include, he and we begin to understand, an addiction to being the object of one woman’s obsession.But while this show holds close to Donny’s perspective, in a way it also sees the world through Martha’s eyes — or at least to the extent that Donny identifies with her. She’s out of his life by the end of the finale, but he still has to live with that part of himself that feels exactly how she feels.Throughout “Baby Reindeer,” Donny struggles to explain why he’s not more proactive when it comes to Martha. Why doesn’t he warn his friends about her? Why does he take so long to get the police involved? Why doesn’t he freeze her out the first time she turns weird?The answer is that, on some level, he gets it. He too is lost, lonely and awkward much of the time. That’s why there is no real triumph in besting Martha. For Donny, it’s like defeating himself — something he already does nearly every day. More

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    India’s Master of Nostalgia Takes His Sweeping Vision to Netflix

    In the small Bombay theater that showed big films, his father brought him — over and over again — to see the biggest of them all.With every one of his 18 viewings of “Mughal-e-Azam,” a hit 1960 musical about a forbidden romance between a prince and a courtesan, the young boy fell more in love. The rays of light, beamed in black and white, opened to him a world at once majestic and lost. The dialogue, crisp and poetic, lingered in his thoughts. The music swept him to places that only later in life would he fully understand.Bombay would eventually change, to Mumbai. India, cinema and music — they would all change, too. But more than half a century later, Sanjay Leela Bhansali — now 61 and a rare remaining master of the grand old style of Indian filmmaking — has not let go of his seat at that small cinema, Alankar Talkies, on the hem of the city’s red-light district.His mind remains rooted there even as his work moves beyond the theater walls. His latest project, released on Wednesday, is an eight-episode musical drama on Netflix that gives a “Game of Thrones” treatment to an exalted milieu of courtesans in pre-independence India.Sanjay Leela Bhansali, a rare remaining master of the grand old style of Indian filmmaking, directing “Heeramandi” for Netflix.Actors waiting between scenes on the set of the eight-episode musical drama in Mumbai.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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    Stream These 10 Movies Before They Leave Netflix in May

    Magic Mike’s finale, M. Night Shyamalan’s patient with 23 personalities, Baz Luhrmann’s “Gatsby” and a copstravaganza with a serious coda after the belly laughs.Two markedly different Adam Sandler vehicles are among the noteworthy titles departing Netflix in May, along with an unsung family treat, a pair of crisp psychological thrillers and the other dark sitcom from the co-star of “It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia.” (Dates indicate the final day a title is available.)‘Magic Mike’s Last Dance’ (May 1)Stream it here.As anyone who’s seen “Ocean’s Twelve” can tell you, Steven Soderbergh is not a director willing to repeat himself — even when making a sequel to one of his hits. After serving only as cinematographer and editor on the first “Magic Mike” follow-up, 2015’s “Magic Mike XXL,” Soderbergh returned to the director’s chair for the third and final story of “Magic Mike” Lane, a charismatic and likable exotic dancer played by Channing Tatum (and a character loosely inspired by his own early years). This time around, he takes up with “Max” Mendoza (Salma Hayek Pinault), a wealthy socialite who hires him to choreograph a dance extravaganza at her husband’s theater in London. The camaraderie of the first two films is missing (Mike’s fellow dancers are consigned to cameos), but Soderbergh and Tatum clearly relish the opportunity to turn the climactic production into a full-scale movie musical, which is executed with wit, grace and genuine eroticism.‘Uncut Gems’ (May 8)Stream it here.Adam Sandler turns in his finest film performance to date as Howard Ratner, an inveterate gambler, serial adulterer and perpetual hustler who owns a jewelry store in the Diamond District of Manhattan. We meet him in mid-crisis, already way over his head in gambling debts and familial trouble, and watch him sink to rock bottom — but it’s a pleasurable experience, thanks to the relentless energy and controlled chaos of the directors Josh and Benny Safdie (“Good Time”). Their films are visceral, less concerned with intricate plotting than the sheer experiences of their protagonists; the result is a movie that is somehow both wildly entertaining and a cinematic anxiety attack.‘The Boxtrolls’ (May 22)Stream it here.Disney and Pixar may get all the attention and Illumination may make all the money, but Laika is one of the most reliable purveyors of family entertainment, quietly turning out gorgeous, heartfelt and engaging stop-motion animated features from its headquarters in Oregon. This 2014 fantasy comedy is one of their best, telling the charming story of a kid named Eggs (voiced by Isaac Hempstead Wright), who was raised by the title characters, a group of cheerfully grotesque, trash-collecting trolls. The directors Graham Annable and Anthony Stacchi have a blast creating this strange, intricately detailed world (it’s set in the late 19th century, in the fictional land of Norvenia), and the impressive cast of voice talents — including Richard Ayoade, Toni Collette, Elle Fanning, Nick Frost, Jared Harris, Ben Kingsley, Tracy Morgan and Simon Pegg — clearly came to play.‘Boyz N The Hood’ (May 31)Stream it here.John Singleton became the first African American to be nominated for the best director Oscar (and the youngest, beating even Orson Welles by two years) for this, his debut feature. He made it fresh out of USC film school, based on his experiences, and those of his friends, growing up in Los Angeles surrounded by poverty, crime and police brutality. “Boyz” wasn’t just Singleton’s introduction; it was also the breakthrough film for Cuba Gooding Jr., Ice Cube and Morris Chestnut, who starred as the three young friends on very different paths after high school, as well as Angela Bassett, Regina King and Nia Long in supporting roles. But the 1991 film’s most powerful presence is Laurence Fishburne as Furious Styles, the single father desperate to keep his son on the right course.‘The Great Gatsby’ (May 31)Stream it here.The director Baz Luhrmann proved he could modernize and, in doing so, reinvigorate a classic text (assisted by Leonardo DiCaprio) with his 1996 interpretation “Romeo and Juliet”; he took another, even bigger swing with this 2013 interpretation of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s beloved novel. Not all of his notions land — home viewing thankfully removes the original release’s headache-inducing 3-D, though the dubious hip-hop needle drops remain. Yet none are off-putting enough to upset the sturdiness of the faithful screenplay and the marvelous performances, particularly Carey Mulligan’s fragile Daisy, Joel Edgerton’s blowhard Tom and, especially, DiCaprio’s complex work in the title role.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