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      in Movies

      ‘Family Pack’ Review: Trapped in a Game

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      The beauty of a game of Werewolf lies in the treachery. In this film adaptation, the director focuses on mild comedy and tedious action instead.François Uzan’s comic fantasy “Family Pack” is based on the French board game The Werewolves of Miller’s Hollow, a sly contest of social deduction in which players are secretly assigned to one of two groups, the evil Werewolves and the benign Townsfolk, and must decide among themselves who’s the enemy.If the premise sounds familiar, that’s because it was modeled on Mafia, a popular Russian party game, which you might also know as Werewolf, a variation created by Andrew Plotkin — itself the inspiration for the video game Among Us, the horror film “Bodies Bodies Bodies” and the reality TV show “The Traitors.” It’s a great game, but considering the breadth of the original influence, “Family Pack” can’t help but feel stale.“Family Pack” approaches the material in the Jumanji way: An ordinary family finds itself transported into the world of a game. Trapped in a medieval village, the “Family Pack” players have to contend with both time-travel problems (not having the right clothes, culture clashes about feminism) and the nightly attacks by werewolves (rendered with cheap visual effects).The beauty of a game of Werewolf lies in the treachery: Friends lie, betray, blindside and backstab one another, and it’s glorious. “Family Pack” expresses little interest in these mechanics. Uzan focuses instead on mild comedy and tedious action. The actors, including Franck Dubosc and Jean Reno, spend a lot of time bantering, until an overactive plot gives them superpowers. The game itself is so good. I’m not sure the movie understands why.Family PackNot rated. In French, with subtitles. Running time: 1 hour 34 minutes. Watch on Netflix. More

    • 113 Shares99 Views

      in Television

      The Menendez Brothers’ Case Under Review: What to Know.

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      Prosecutors are revisiting the brothers’ convictions in the killings of their parents. It could lead to their release from prison.Over 35 years ago, Lyle and Erik Menendez — then 21 and 18 years old — walked into the den of their Beverly Hills mansion and fired more than a dozen shotgun rounds at their parents.Now, after serving decades behind bars as part of a life sentence without the possibility of parole, the Menendez brothers may be getting a chance at freedom.In early October, the Los Angeles County district attorney, George Gascón, announced that his office was reviewing the case after lawyers representing the Menendez brothers asked prosecutors to recommend a resentencing, a move that could lead to their release.The reconsideration of their life sentences comes at a time when the Menendez brothers have been thrust back into the media spotlight thanks to the revelation of new evidence, an army of social media defenders and a recent television series and documentary examining their crime and trials.Here’s what to know about the Menendez brothers’ case:What were they convicted of?In 1996, the Menendez brothers were found guilty of first-degree murder and sentenced to life in prison without parole for killing their parents, Jose, a music executive, and Mary Louise, a former beauty queen who went by the name Kitty.It was their second trial. Two years prior, a mistrial was declared after two separate juries (one for each brother) deadlocked over a verdict.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

    • 138 Shares129 Views

      in Television

      ‘Sweet Bobby’ on Netflix Tells the Catfishing Nightmare of Kirat Assi

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      A new Netflix documentary tells a sinister tale of a decade-long online romance scam, and the devastation that followed.It started with a Facebook friend request from a man named Bobby.Kirat Assi, a 29-year-old radio host, didn’t usually allow strangers into her private Facebook life. But she’d heard of Bobby, who came from a highly regarded family in their Sikh community in West London. In fact, Ms. Assi’s cousin had dated Bobby’s younger brother, and she’d chatted with him online.So Ms. Assi accepted. It was 2010 after all, and there was still a general sense of optimism about social media. On Facebook, existing friends were coming together and new ones were readily made. It was a seemingly harmless place, full of funny wall posts, photo albums and an endless amount of pokes.For Ms. Assi, now 43, that friend request was the start of what proved to be a decade-long catfishing scheme that is the subject of “Sweet Bobby: My Catfish Nightmare,” a documentary that began streaming on Netflix on Wednesday.True crime and catfishing have been popular subjects for documentaries and podcasts in recent years, but in an interview ahead of the release of “Sweet Bobby,” Ms. Assi said that the often frivolous portrayal of catfishing can dilute the very real, long-lasting devastation these scammers inflict. She prefers to use the term “online entrapment.”“People need to know how bad it gets,” she said, noting neither the documentary nor the podcast that preceded it explained the full extent of the abuse she suffered at the hands of Bobby, as it was deemed too triggering to include.For six years, Ms. Assi and Bobby chatted online as friends. Then, Bobby got divorced and confessed his love to Ms. Assi shortly after. They dated for three years — chatting, texting, sending intimate voice mail messages and falling asleep on overnight Skype calls. Bobby said he had a stroke, and Ms. Assi cared for him from afar.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

    • 100 Shares99 Views

      in Television

      How ‘Nobody Wants This’ Became Netflix’s Latest Hit

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      The Netflix rom-com checks every genre box, but it became a megahit by offering versions of everything you already like on TV.Two leads with nostalgia power. A meet cute. A series of fish-out-of-water mishaps, some of which rely on an almost alarming level of ignorance or ineptitude. A party that goes awry — probably from too much stress. (Probably a wealthy, maybe even icy woman has caused this stress.) Her: Frazzled, into her phone. Him: Safe, sensitive, sage.Make it about Christmas, and you have a Hallmark Channel original. Make it about interfaith romance, and it’s Netflix’s latest hit “Nobody Wants This.”A romantic comedy that checks every genre box, “Nobody” is about the star-crossed attraction between Joanne, a Los Angeles podcast host played by Kristen Bell, and Noah, a soulful rabbi played by Adam Brody. Since arriving on Netflix late last month, it has remained at or near the top of the service’s most-watched chart, sharing space with a show from the darker end of the replication factory, “Monsters: The Lyle and Erik Menendez Story.”“Nobody” has generated as much coverage as that grisly docudrama, thanks partly to its charms and partly to its shortcomings, namely its depictions of Jewish women that rely on hoary stereotypes.The draw of “Nobody,” though, is not that the show is so distinctive, it’s that it is so familiar. Rom-coms have thrived on streaming as they have mostly fallen out of fashion in theaters, and for this particular genre “formulaic” is no great diss — it is perhaps the opposite. (“Nobody” isn’t even the best opposites-attract rom-com to arrive on TV recently — that would be Season 2 of “Colin From Accounts,” on Paramount+.) Beyond the show’s ample joys and persistent irritants — “What about our podcast?” is this show’s “can MomTok survive this?” — there’s a Goldilocks ease to the endeavor that one can see as either finely honed or algorithmically precooked; simply reheat and enjoy.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 Theater

      Ali Wong and Hannah Gadsby Paint Different Portraits of Fame

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      Her gossipy portrait of singlehood as a celebrity is a sunny contrast to the darker view of her Netflix stablemate Hannah Gadsby.The last time we saw Ali Wong doing standup, she was delivering an earnest tribute to her husband and their relationship. The final line of “Don Wong,” her 2022 special, went: “And that, single people, is what a healthy marriage looks like.”Later that year, she got divorced.In Hollywood, it’s a tale as old as time. But in stand-up, where the parasocial relationship with fans is more intense than ever, this news lit up group chats and created expectations. What would Wong, who has talked about her husband in three specials, add to the fertile genre of comedy about divorce?Two years after her 2016 breakthrough, “Baby Cobra,” transformed Ali Wong from a veteran but obscure comic into a phenomenon, “Nanette” did the same for Hannah Gadsby. To the extent that Netflix established a reputation for making — as opposed to promoting — stand-up stars, it’s largely because of these two artists, whose new hours present perspectives on fame from such different angles that it almost feels like they’re in conversation.Gadsby, whose superb show, “Woof!,” is currently running at the Abron Arts Center on the Lower East Side, takes a dark view, worrying that success, and specifically money, has had a corrupting influence. Wong’s latest Netflix special, “Single Lady,” is a juicy, aspirational portrait of celebrity singlehood that exudes optimism.Walking onstage to songs from pop divas (Beyoncé for Wong; Madonna for Gadsby) and referring to previous specials, they both aim for thematically coherent productions alert to their reputations. But Gadsby, who uses they/them pronouns, considers and confronts their own brand, presenting their experiences as eccentric. Wong takes the comic tack of teasing generalizations out of her experience. Describing the realization in the middle of a breakup that the experience would make a good joke, Wong quipped: “We turn it into lemonade real fast.”Wearing a flowy white dress, Wong addresses her divorce at the top, saying in a soft voice that she felt “really embarrassed and ashamed.” Embarrassment and shame are fertile comedic territory, but not areas Wong has dug deeply into in the past. She doesn’t here, either, moving quickly to the flip side of a highly public separation: Tabloid coverage, she says, has been a “bat signal” for men.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

    • 113 Shares189 Views

      in Movies

      ‘The Menendez Brothers’: 4 Takeaways From the Netflix Documentary

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      The documentary, based on extensive new interviews with Lyle and Erik Menendez, adds fresh nuance and details about their parents’ murders and the aftermath.The true crime drama “Monsters: The Lyle and Erik Menendez Story” has been one of the most viewed series on Netflix since its Sept. 19 debut, driving enormous interest once again in the Menendez brothers, who in 1989 murdered their parents with shotguns inside the family’s Beverly Hills mansion.On Monday, the same streaming platform released “The Menendez Brothers,” a feature-length documentary by Alejandro Hartmann, which draws from 20 hours of new phone interviews with the brothers from prison. It also includes on-camera interviews with surviving family members, journalists, the first prosecuting attorney and several jurors from the two criminal trials of the 1990s.After a sensational trial that ended in hung juries in 1994 (the brothers had separate juries), Lyle and Erik were retried and convicted in 1996, sentenced to life in prison without the possibility of parole. For the second trial, the judge barred the defense from using most of the testimony supporting its argument that the brothers had killed their parents out of fear following years of sexual, emotional and physical abuse.The case has become something of a cause célèbre in recent years, with celebrities and young social media users advocating the brothers’ release, particularly as new evidence appears to support the abuse claims.At the same time, a flurry of books, documentaries and scripted series have taken a more sympathetic view toward the brothers than they originally received; this latest documentary comes days after George Gascón, the Los Angeles district attorney, announced that his office was revisiting the case, saying, “We have a moral and ethical obligation to review what is being presented to us.”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

    • 100 Shares129 Views

      in Television

      How Everyone Got Lost in Netflix’s Endless Library

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      If you take a journey deep within Netflix’s furthest recesses — burrow past Bingeworthy TV Dramas and 1980s Action Thrillers, take a left at Because You Watched the Lego Batman Movie, keep going past Fright Night — you will eventually find your way to the platform’s core, the forgotten layers of content fossilized by the pressure from the accreted layers above. Down here, if you search hard enough, you will eventually find your way to “Richie Rich.”Listen to this article, read by Ron ButlerYou know the one, from the old comic books. In Netflix’s series, he was reimagined as a self-made boy who discovered a novel source of energy derived from all the vegetables he never ate, making him the world’s first trillionaire. And now he lives in a mansion with an amusement park and a robot maid; his dad is an oaf and a layabout; his best friend, played by the future Netflix superstar Jenna Ortega, is a mooch; a rapper named Bulldozah lives next door, with a son who is also friends with Richie. In contrast to the dark, lonely and besieged version of Richie played by Macaulay Culkin in 1994, here Richie’s life is basically good, though not without the sort of headaches that arise from being a prepubescent trillionaire.In the fourth episode of the show, Richie struggles to write a book report on “The Wizard of Oz”: The book puts him to sleep, the movie puts him to sleep, he doesn’t know what to do. Bulldozah’s son suggests he remake the movie, and with no practical reason not to, he does. But as soon as he begins, things deteriorate. The Lion character has rewritten himself to be cool and have a motorcycle. Dorothy also wants to be cool; she thinks she should be from Paris, not Kansas, and wants to be named Véronique. His robot maid can’t accept that the Tin Woodsman would rust because he’s made of tin — she’s apparently right about this — so she decides she’s the Tungsten Carbide Woodsman. By the end, the movie is being shot in 3-D and there are time-traveling dinosaurs, an asteroid and evil space robots — a decision that offends Richie’s maid.“For once,” she says, “it would be really cool to see a positive role model for young robots.”“Did someone say ‘cool’?” says the Scarecrow, now dressed up as an ice cream cone. “You know what else is cool?” (He has secured a product-placement deal.)Rather unwittingly, the episode poses a question that haunts our age: What happens to entertainment when a newcomer, armed with an effectively endless amount of money, starts making it? What happens, in other words, when you become Netflix?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 Shares169 Views

      in Television

      Based on a True Story, or a True Story? In ‘Baby Reindeer’ Lawsuit, Words Matter.

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      A defamation suit against Netflix boils down to how the company presented its story about Martha Scott, a fictionalization of what the show’s creator has described as a real-life stalking incident.The woman who claims to have inspired the character Martha Scott in the Netflix series “Baby Reindeer” can proceed with a defamation lawsuit against the streaming giant, a federal judge in Los Angeles ruled last week.The woman, Fiona Harvey, says that she has experienced panic attacks and faced abuse, and that she has developed a fear of going outside, since the show was released in April. Online sleuths quickly identified her as the real-life inspiration behind the character and inundated her with threatening and harassing messages, according to the lawsuit.The seven-episode limited series, which won six Emmy Awards this month, follows a struggling comedian, Donny Dunn (played by the show’s creator, Richard Gadd) as he is stalked and harassed by Martha Scott, a patron he meets while working at a bar in London. The show follows Donny as his life spirals out of control, and ends with Martha, played by Jessica Gunning, being convicted of stalking.Mr. Gadd has said the story, which he first developed as a play and then the Netflix series, was based on his own real-life experience with a stalker.Ms. Harvey’s lawsuit cites a statement that appears at the opening of the show: “This is a true story.”The case could boil down to an intricate issue of semantics related to that line, according to Judge R. Gary Klausner of the U.S. District Court for the Central District of California, who on Friday denied Netflix’s attempt to dismiss the suit.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