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    The Spies of ‘Slow Horses’ Are ‘as Useless as Everyone Else’

    Will Smith, the showrunner, discusses the comic spy thriller, which returns for its fourth season on Wednesday and is up for nine Emmy Awards later this month.The British spies at the center of the Apple TV+ series “Slow Horses” aren’t particularly handsome, or efficient, or disciplined. They’re rejects from MI5, consigned to a dark, dingy London office run by Jackson Lamb (Gary Oldman), a slovenly, scotch-swilling, flatulent burnout. Early in Season 4, which premieres Wednesday, Lamb objects when a new no-nonsense MI5 officer (Ruth Bradley) handcuffs him during an investigation.“I’d rather not take any chances with a man who looks like he gropes people on buses,” she tells him.“You’re being hurtful about my appearance,” Lamb mutters. “I might have to call H.R.”Will Smith, the showrunner, knew he had been handed a gift when he was enlisted to ride “Slow Horses.” Based on the series of Slough House novels by Mick Herron, the TV adaptation has the kind of biting humor and dysfunctional, high-stakes office politics of two shows Smith wrote for under Armando Iannucci, “The Thick of It” and “Veep.” It also has Oldman, sinking his teeth into his first starring TV role, and Jonathan Pryce, who takes center stage in the new season as an old spy descending into dementia (which creates complications in the espionage world).Then there’s the short, bluesy theme song, performed by some bloke named Mick Jagger. Already a fan of Herron’s books, Jagger was happy to join the party.In July “Slow Horses” received nine Emmy nominations, including nods for best drama, lead actor in a drama (Oldman) and writing in a drama (Smith).Each season of the series unfolds in a quick, six-episode burst. The latest follows Pryce’s David Cartwright and his cocksure, generally overmatched Slow Horse grandson, River (Jack Lowden), as they try to keep a rogue ex-C.I.A. agent (Hugo Weaving) from unleashing hell.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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    Gary Oldman Found James Dean and His Wife at a Gallery

    The Oscar-winning star of “Slow Horses” on Apple TV+ likes comedians in dramas, makes photos the hard way and is still discovering the Beatles.The actor Gary Oldman knows a few things about playing spies.He picked up the first of his three Oscar nominations for his portrayal of George Smiley, the agent at the heart of the 2011 movie “Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy,” which was adapted from John le Carré’s thriller by the same name. (He won in 2018, for “The Darkest Hour.”)In the Apple TV+ series “Slow Horses,” based on Mick Herron’s “Slough House” novels, Oldman is a similarly unglamorous spy, one of several dealing with divorce, alcoholism, gambling problems and other misfortunes. As Oldman said in a phone interview last month, they are far from “that rather sort of glossy world of Jason Bourne and James Bond.”There is certainly no gloss to Oldman’s character, Jackson Lamb, a perpetually rumpled and frequently drunk MI5 agent who oversees spies tucked away for being embarrassing or otherwise undesirable. But Oldman has decided to spend more time with him than with any other character in his more than 40-year career.“He publicly humiliates. He’s provocative. He’s deliberately confrontational. He’s all of those things,” he said. “And yet, he has an incredible sort of moral compass, and he’s very loyal, and I think that is sort of, if you like, redeeming.”Season 2 of “Slow Horses” premiered Friday, while the third season is in production. (A fourth has been ordered.) Oldman talked about the books he’s giving for Christmas, the music he makes on his iPhone and the plays he performs on Zoom. These are edited excerpts from the conversation.1. Richard Miller I collect photographs. Once, I was looking for a print of a photograph of James Dean on a break during the shooting of “Giant,” sitting on a sofa, reading a Look magazine with Elizabeth Taylor on the cover. Next to him on the sofa is Elizabeth Taylor, with her head on his arm, asleep. I went over to the Fahey/Klein Gallery in Los Angeles to see if they had a print. I described it but said I didn’t know who it was by. A voice behind me said, “Oh, that’s Richard Miller.” I turned around and met the gallery’s director, Gisele Schmidt, who is now my wife.2. “The Dumb Waiter” I’ve had a chance to work with a wonderful actor and a lovely man lately called Arliss Howard. We recently got onto Zoom and read “The Dumb Waiter,” a one-act play by Harold Pinter about a pair of hit men. We did it for ourselves — you know, just keeping your hand in the game. I don’t know if it’ll go anywhere. Maybe Arliss and I will do it one of these days.3. iPhone Music Recordings Again, purely for the hell of it, a friend in Canada and I have been recording songs by David Bowie, who was a very good friend of mine. We send tracks back and forth to each other by email and text. I’ll put down, say, the piano track, and he’ll put guitar on it. You’ll be amazed what you can do with an iPhone. When you hear these tracks put together, you would think they were recorded live in a studio with a band.4. London’s National Portrait Gallery The National Portrait Gallery, the Imperial War Museums, the National Gallery — these are all places that are part of growing up in England. They’ve always been there. Always been accessible. Every time I go back to the National Portrait Gallery, I see new things.5. The Beatles A friend of mine, the painter George Blacklock, always says that if you could look at a painting and get it all in five minutes, then it wouldn’t be worth painting it. They reveal new things to you over time. I feel that way about the Beatles. My God, the artistry. I am constantly in awe and total admiration for what they achieved.6. John le Carré John le Carré had an eye for detail that I think is quite remarkable. “Tinker, Tailor,” for me, is the jewel in the crown of his writing. But I liked one of his next George Smiley novels, “Smiley’s People,” very much. We were going to do it. It never happened, for a variety of reasons, but I would’ve loved to have revisited George again.7. Stella Adler The other day, I was talking to Saskia Reeves — who plays Catherine Standish on “Slow Horses” — about the many methods and techniques of acting. She’s sort of from the Stanislavski school, as many of us are, and she was talking about Uta Hagen and, I think, Sanford Meisner, but she was sort of unfamiliar with the great actor and teacher Stella Adler. So I think the book “Stella Adler on Ibsen, Strindberg and Chekhov” will be in Saskia’s Christmas stocking.8. Comedic Actors Working on Dramas I loved “The Patient” with Steve Carell and happen to think he’s a really wonderful dramatic actor. I also liked “Severance.” I was shocked to see that some episodes were directed by Ben Stiller. I knew he’d directed before, but it was really quite masterful. Sometimes we go: “Oh my God, this person can be funny and be dramatic!” And yet, for years, the wonderful Jack Lemmon bounced between the two.9. Family Christmas This year, we’re having Christmas at the house, and it’s our first big, big, big Christmas. We have 14 for Christmas Day and five dogs. So, it’s going to be a houseful. We’re going to try and coax my son Charlie into making his carbonara.10. Wet-Plate Photography I started learning about the wet-plate photography process when I was writing a script about the 19th-century photographer Eadweard Muybridge. I made one good plate and thought, “I’ve been searching all my life for this — why haven’t I discovered it earlier?” I find it incredibly satisfying, and it takes me away from my main job. More

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    ‘The Contender’ Lit Me on Fire. Now It’s a Cringe Factory.

    A movie about a female senator navigating a sex scandal felt revolutionary when a writer saw it in 2000. But its stab at feminism feels clumsy now.Why I revisited “The Contender” this summer is neither here nor there because it could have happened at any time, such is the real estate that movie takes up in my brain — meaning I was always revisiting it somewhere in my mind, though it had been more than 20 years since I’d seen it. But this movie has been informing me, vexing me and haunting me since. Beware the movies you watch as you crest the peak of your coming-of-age, at the exact moment when you’re sure you know everything.A reminder, or an introduction: “The Contender,” from 2000, is the story of Senator Laine Hanson, played by Joan Allen, who is up for confirmation as vice president when the playful but supersmart lame duck president (Jeff Bridges) loses the prior V.P. to death and needs to replace him in the final months of his term. The president is determined to put a woman in office, not just because she’s a woman — though, that — but because he does not like the Republicans bullying him into nominating the more centrist Governor Hathaway from Virginia, who recently dived into the Potomac to unsuccessfully save a woman who had careened off a bridge.We meet Senator Hanson when the president calls her on the phone to come in. She is, at that particular moment, on her back on her desk, having sex with her husband, who works for her. They’re both still wearing their suits; it’s the middle of a workday, after all.As the confirmation hearings proceed, led by a Republican prude, Senator Shelly Runyon (Gary Oldman), the committee digs up something treacherous from Hanson’s past: She, the daughter of a governor, allegedly had group sex as part of her sorority hazing in college. This supposedly took place in front of people, at a party, though photographs show just a body, not a face. Runyon and his committee receive this news with glee, leaking it to a tabloid and bringing up this scandal at every opportunity. The committee will not, Runyon insists, confirm her just because she’s a woman, and he will specifically not confirm her because of the alleged group sex. The viewer is treated to phrases like “sexual McCarthyism” and “ideological rape of all women” and “cancer of affirmative action.”Now, Hanson will neither confirm nor deny the incident. Instead, she insists it’s beneath her dignity to answer questions about her sex life. Not even when she’s asked by the committee, not even when she’s asked by the president’s aides, not even when she is ambushed on cable news. Instead, the movie asks us to consider if a man would ever be asked these questions.Well, I left the theater on fire. It was two years since I had bought the newspaper with the complete Starr Report in it and Could. Not. Believe. How. Dirty. The. New York. Times. Could. Be. I had my first job, an internship at a film company where I was asked by a guy in finance if I was a “full-service intern.” I had watched the President Clinton sex scandal unfold, and I already had the lived experience to wonder what would become of the woman at its center and why people with the greatest amount of power can be rooted for as they decimate the people with the least.All this to say that I remembered this movie as being one of the good guys. I remembered it as educational, as progress — no, I remembered it as a revolution. So imagine how shocking it was to watch it again for the first time in two decades and realize what it actually was.The movie is laced with interactions between men and Hanson that seem either innocuous (“You look beautiful,” the male White House chief of staff tells her before a news conference) or microaggressive (“Is that what you’re going to wear?” the male press secretary asks her before the same event). Larry King expresses surprise when the senator chooses Thomas Jefferson as the historical leader she most admires. “A man?” he asks. Someone says to the president about her, “I’m just watching out for your girl.” In her hearing, Hanson is asked if she would have more children, and if she could still have children, and what should the American people think of a vice president who might go on maternity leave? She answers those questions; she tells them she practices birth control. Those questions are the public’s business, apparently.Are you confused? So was I. Those interactions seem totally, rightfully planted as setups in a movie about the sexist way we talk to women, right? Well, I don’t know! That same movie shows Hanson angrily warning Runyon in a private conversation that “if there’s one thing you don’t want, it’s a woman with her finger on the button who isn’t getting laid.”And, well, what about the fact that just about every woman in this movie is terrible? Governor Hathaway’s wife, upon hearing that he’s been passed over, berates him in a way that makes Lady Macbeth look like Tami Taylor. Even our sainted Senator Hanson, we learn, is married to her best friend’s ex-husband, and there was some overlap — the would-be V.P. is a homewrecker! The men in the movie are far less tinged with complication — Runyon just wants the country to be a Puritan state because he loves righteousness. The president just wants to move the country forward because he loves progress. My question upon rewatching the movie is not only: How did I miss all this? But: How were the good parts of the movie ever enough for me?Those male characters are more fully drawn than Hanson herself — a character whose heroism lies in the fact that she never actually says much. The best way for a woman to proceed, if she wants dignity and success, according to this movie, is to do it quietly.As I waded through the microaggressions and slights without ever understanding for sure if they were intentional — it’s unclear if the movie supposes that it’s wrong to tell women that they look beautiful at work — I remembered that somehow this story was put into a man’s hands (it was written and directed by Rod Lurie) and lauded as a corrective to the Clinton scandal, meaning that it seemed to bolster the idea that a person’s private life is his or her private life.Senator Laine Hanson (Joan Allen, center), flanked by her counsel (Mike Binder, left) and the White House chief of staff, played by Sam Elliott. Gino Mifsud/DreamWorks PicturesI’ve been working in journalism since I left college. I know that work doesn’t age well — that there is a direct one-to-one exchange on how relevant an article is when it’s published to how much you’re not going to brag that you wrote it years later — with lines you wrote just for humor’s sake and questions about a person’s past, body or addictions that you hadn’t had the sense to realize were out of bounds. Or even if they technically weren’t, that you should have avoided them entirely nonetheless out of decency. I wrote articles where I believed I was on the right side of history and it often took seeing them in print, or revisiting them years to later, to realize how horrific my points of view were.But that’s not my main point here; my main point is that I sat watching “The Contender” in 2000, at the age of 24, thinking that if a direct response to the sexism of the moment could land in theaters, that we had reached peak progress as far as feminism was concerned.But what was I cheering? What was that movie really about? Was it about how women are received in the world? Or was it about not being allowed to ask Bill Clinton about his sex life? Wait, was this a pro-Clinton movie in the end?And yet, it was progress — at the time, at least. To hear Hanson say that there were questions you couldn’t ask her, that her life was personal to her, that the world didn’t have the right to judge her for it, that was something I’d never seen before. It left me reeling with possibility. But I didn’t know that one day, I would not be able to discern if its microaggressions were intentional. I didn’t know that one day I would read my own work and realize that stories I had set forth as examples of the way the world moves forward would be offensive in their own right. The point is that if you live long enough, even the most progressive idea will be anachronistic, and you’ll be the jerk who once put it out there. We call that all kinds of bad things today, but, in fact, that’s actually what’s called progress.Back then, I didn’t imagine there was any more progress to be had. I arrived here, in 2021, now finding “The Contender” adorably, offensively retro and wondering if what I think of as subversively progressive now will seem old-fashioned in 20 years. I wondered what I would think of this movie if I were younger and forced to watch it. I’d see how there were no nonwhite characters or sense of intersectionality; I’d watch the central character — the one on the movie poster — do nothing and say almost as much for an hour-and-a-half and I’d turn it off.Progress, it turns out, is not something to arrive at; its most robust presentation is the understanding that you’ll never reach it. No, it’s the understanding that you’ll never reach it and that you cannot predict why from the moment you’re standing in. In that way, “The Contender” is the essence of progress. So are my dumb old magazine profiles; so is this essay, probably. That’s what progress is. It’s the ability to look at what you loved 20 years ago and regard it with disgust.Some good news is that, in a small pocket of the world that a movie like “The Contender” represents, things are getting better. That you shouldn’t ask a woman about her sex life when she’s up for a job is now something you can greet, with certainty, as an old idea; a woman could be given thousands of words worth of space in a newspaper these days, and she’ll still file with more words than assigned (this is a public apology to my editor).What good news it is to find “The Contender” to be old-fashioned and quaint. In the movie much of the terrible work done both to undermine Hanson and to confirm her because she’s a woman is done in the name of “our daughters.” It turns out that you have to have so many men embracing progress in the name of their daughters (which is good) before they’re berated into pushing for progress because it’s just what you do (which is better).In the end, the movie doesn’t have the courage of its convictions. It allows Hanson to sit with the president on the back lawn of the White House, smoking a cigar the president hands her, as she finally reveals to him what the movie has seemingly promised it wouldn’t resolve: That the story wasn’t true. That she didn’t have sex with those boys; that it was just urban legend. A movie where she doesn’t have to ever answer the question was an idea whose time had not yet come.Here is how “The Contender” finishes: With a rousing speech by the president to Congress — a Congress that loves him so much that each side cheers for almost every word. The president announces that Senator Hanson has withdrawn her name in the interest of making the transition peaceful, but he will not accept the withdrawal. No, the president moves for immediate confirmation, which it’s clear he’s going to get, if everyone could stop cheering for him for a minute. I remembered it as a moving scene. Now, all I could think was that she had withdrawn her name for a reason. This wasn’t what she had wanted at all, but no one asked her because no one really cared. More

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    ‘Crisis’ Review: Finding a Fix

    #masthead-section-label, #masthead-bar-one { display: none }What to WatchBest Movies on NetflixBest of Disney PlusBest of Amazon PrimeBest Netflix DocumentariesNew on NetflixAdvertisementContinue reading the main storySupported byContinue reading the main story‘Crisis’ Review: Finding a FixNicholas Jarecki’s new crime drama, which examines the opioid epidemic from different angles, is well-paced but often strains credulity.Michelle Rodriguez and Armie Hammer in “Crisis.”Credit…Jan Thijs/Quiver DistributionFeb. 25, 2021, 7:00 a.m. ETCrisisDirected by Nicholas JareckiDrama, ThrillerR1h 58mFind TicketsWhen you purchase a ticket for an independently reviewed film through our site, we earn an affiliate commission.Applying the panoramic approach of Steven Soderbergh’s “Traffic” to the subject matter of, well, “Traffic,” “Crisis” examines the intractability of the opioid epidemic through a three-pronged narrative. The writer-director, Nicholas Jarecki, who made the engrossing, “Bonfire of the Vanities”-ish thriller “Arbitrage” (2012), awkwardly pretzels a checklist of social problems into the form of a drama.The issues — from addiction itself to the flawed incentives at institutions that might prevent it — demand a more expansive treatment. Compared with the HBO series “The Wire,” which covered similar material, almost any pretzel would seem too small.[embedded content]The most suspenseful thread in “Crisis” involves Jake Kelly (Armie Hammer, who has recently been accused of sending bizarre messages on social media and other troubling behavior; he has denied wrongdoing). Jake is introduced as a drug importer but quickly revealed to be an undercover D.E.A. agent planning a bust that straddles both sides of the United States-Canada border. His sister (Lily-Rose Depp) is an addict herself.In almost the flip side of that story, Claire Reimann (Evangeline Lilly), a hockey mom and recovering opioid addict, turns sleuth and potential vigilante after a tragedy related to her son.Finally, Gary Oldman plays Dr. Tyrone Brower, a professor who challenges a longtime corporate patron, a pharmaceutical company, on a claim that a new painkiller is not addictive. Turning whistle-blower means competing with Big Pharma’s immense resources.Hopping between Detroit and Montreal, the film is well-paced but often strains credulity. Jarecki brings Claire out of character to juice the plot, and Dr. Brower’s fate is resolved in an unconvincing coda at odds with the preceding cynicism.CrisisRated R. Violence and drug use. Running time: 1 hour 58 minutes. In theaters. Please consult the guidelines outlined by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention before watching movies inside theaters.AdvertisementContinue reading the main story More