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    Breaking Out of the #MeToo Movie Formula

    How “Women Talking” and “Tár” make the discourse around the movement feel thrillingly unfamiliar.When I walked into a screening of “Women Talking,” all I knew about the Sarah Polley film was that it was based on true events — the rapes of more than 100 women and girls in a Bolivian Mennonite community that were revealed in 2009. The premise did not exactly thrill me. I was, frankly, tired of such stories. It felt as if I had spent the last five years watching accounts of sexual violence get spun into tabloid spectacles, stripped for contrarian essay fodder and slowly strangled in the courts. Experiences of harassment and assault had been swallowed by endless debate. This had made me cynical, then bored. I knew what happened when women talked.“Women Talking” is all about debate. The crimes themselves are sketched in exposition; for years, women in the colony had awakened dazed and bloodied in their beds. Their elders dismiss the rapes as the work of devils, or else the “wild female imagination,” until the rapists are caught in the act. When the colony’s men head to town to post their bail, the women assemble in a hayloft to argue their options: They can do nothing; stay and fight; or leave. By film’s end, conversations that had grown so tedious on the internet had been reborn as riveting, hilarious, tragic. I cried through the whole movie, rationing tissues from a little plastic packet until all that was left was the wrapper crinkling in my hands.The movies were once Harvey Weinstein’s domain; now he is their subject. Five years after the story of his abuse broke, a growing genre of movies is pulling character sketches and themes from the #MeToo movement and plugging them into glossy re-enactments (“Bombshell”), workplace dramas (“The Assistant”) and dark comedies (“Promising Young Woman”). Even haunted house movies are now visited by ghosts of toxic masculinity (“Men” and “Barbarian”).A strain of careful literalness pervades many of these works, as if they are nervously eyeing the discourse. This fall’s “She Said” is such a faithful reconstruction of the New York Times investigation of Weinstein, Ashley Judd plays herself. Films that aren’t ripped from the headlines have evinced a staid predictability, as they drive toward studiously correct moral outcomes. But two new films feel truly transformative: In addition to “Women Talking,” a parable about a community of victims who claim their power, there is “Tár,” a portrait of one despotic woman who seizes more and more and more. Both are so wonderfully destabilizing, they manage to scramble our cultural scripts around sexual violence, cancel culture, gender, genius and storytelling itself.What a relief when “Women Talking” drops us into unfamiliar territory. Its colony is a patriarchal religious order that keeps its women illiterate, subjects them to systematic violence and tells them they are imagining things. The women wear weighty floral dresses, sturdy sandals, viciously tight braids. One of them is always sharing wisdom gleaned from her geriatric carriage horses, Ruth and Cheryl. And yet when these women speak, it is as if they are talking about us.Though “Women Talking” is based on a novel that is based on true events, it has a distilled, allegorical quality that frees ideas to circulate in new ways. #MeToo testimonies drew a persistent and cynical retort: What about the men? Here in the hayloft, that becomes a literal and urgent question. If the women stay and fight, they risk losing their families to the colony’s culture of violence. But if they escape, they would have to abandon their brothers, husbands and sons.Much of the hayloft’s conversation concerns men, though they barely appear in the film. It is the survivors who grapple with the moral questions raised by their crisis. Rape is never alienated from the experience of its victims; it need not be carefully phrased for public consumption, and it cannot be flattened into an issue for others to debate. This allows the conversation to grow incautious and complex: Ona (Rooney Mara), pregnant by rape, is coolly philosophical; Mariche (Jessie Buckley) is cynical and resigned; Salome (Claire Foy) is out for blood.Along the way, “Women Talking” makes a case for the intellectual life of the survivor. There is a dark edge to the cultural celebration of women speaking out about their victimization: For decades, centuries, they have been praised for “breaking the silence,” but they have also been entrapped by the expectation that they publicly explain themselves again and again. “Women Talking” sketches an alternate moral universe, one where the spectacle of rape testimony is unnecessary. Here, talk proceeds directly to action.Todd Field’s film “Tár” imagines its own parallel #MeToo universe, one in which the figure of the perpetrator is transferred to a beguiling new host. She is the fictional conductor Lydia Tár (Cate Blanchett), and she rules atop the rarefied world of classical music. By making his art monster a woman, when her real-life analogues are almost exclusively men, Field makes it impossible to recoil at her in pre-emptive, familiar disgust. He grants us permission to inspect her up close.Tár, we learn as her absurd résumé is unrolled onstage at a lightly satirized version of The New Yorker Festival, is a virtuosic conductor of the Berlin Philharmonic, an international celebrity and the author of the forthcoming memoir “Tár on Tár.” She is also an imperious blowhard with undeniable charisma, a self-described “U-Haul lesbian” and a delicious sendup of middlebrow prestige. Onstage, she describes her work in godlike terms. “I start the clock,” Tár says, and with another flick of her baton, “time stops.” But times are changing.When a former acolyte kills herself, Tár’s penchant for seducing her underlings comes back to haunt her. The New York Post shores up anonymous complaints; a crudely edited video of her berating a Juilliard student ricochets across the internet. The online cancellation of an artistic giant can be a tedious subject, but in “Tár,” it acquires sneaky complications. Tár tells a fangirl that a percussive interlude in “The Rite of Spring” makes her feel like “both victim and perpetrator,” and that also describes her social position. Her job is to channel the works of long-dead white men, and she enjoys trying on their privilege, too. After scaling a male-dominated industry, she has created a fellowship for supporting young female conductors — and for grooming assistants and lovers. When Tár ensnares a new protégé, it is as if she is exploiting a younger version of herself.Tár’s real achievement is not conducting but self-mythologizing. The film’s most revelatory scenes show her leveraging her power to lift people or crush them, masterfully coercing artists and philanthropists into submission. But when Tár schools a Juilliard class that a conductor’s job is to “sublimate yourself” into the canon of white male composers, the young musicians do not bend to her will. And when Tár’s power trips can no longer be sublimated into her work, her self-image splinters. The film itself seems to warp under the weight of her anxiety and self-pity. Dark satire sinks into gothic horror. Tár tries to follow a comely cellist into her apartment, but instead encounters a dank basement and a hulking black dog that recalls the maybe-supernatural Hound of the Baskervilles. Later, she finds the strewn pages of her memoir manuscript floating around a former assistant’s empty room, its title transposed to “RAT ON RAT.” This is the stuff of nightmares, where the accused dreams up a version of her comeuppance so overt, it tips into wish fulfillment.The other anagram of “Tár” is, of course, “ART,” and as real-life art monsters disappear from view, “Tár” offers up a work into which we can sublimate our own Schadenfreude and sympathy for abusers. Thanks to Blanchett’s luminous performance and Field’s puzzle-box storytelling, we are freed to obsess. “Tár” has inspired its own bizarro-world discourse, one with pleasingly low stakes, because Lydia Tár is (despite a meme suggestion to the contrary) not a real person. She now circulates as an internet-culture fixation, edited into a fan video set to Taylor Swift’s “Karma” and splashed onto a spoofed cover of Time magazine as a “Problematic Icon.” When the groaning What about the men? question became, instead, What about this one strange woman?, I found that I wanted to discuss little else.If “Women Talking” is about the power of the collective, “Tár” investigates the church of Western individualism, provoking us to confront our tendency to worship at its altar. The most pointed editorializing in “Tár” comes at the very beginning, when the end credits roll and we spend several minutes watching the names of makeup artists and gaffers drift by. Art is not the product of a singular genius, the film seems to say, but a collaborative work of many. Reversing the typical credit sequence signals something else: We are witnessing the end of something — perhaps, an era.“Women Talking” is also concerned with a shifting of power, and it, too, scrambles the typical language of movies to make its point. It opens with a God’s-eye view shot, looking down at Ona stirring helplessly in her bed and screaming for her mother. This is a chilly (and clichéd) perspective on an assault, one that invites a sensation of spectatorship over the victim. The movie ends with another shot from above, but this time it is from the perspective of a mother, presumably Ona, peering down at the newborn baby stirring in her arms. Finally, she has become the omniscient narrator of her new reality.“Women Talking” and “Tár” are two very different films, but they are riffing on the same provocation: God is a woman. More

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    Woman Accuses Steven Tyler of Sexually Assaulting Her in the 1970s

    In a lawsuit filed under California’s Child Victims Act, the woman says she met the Aerosmith frontman when she was 16.Steven Tyler, the frontman of the rock band Aerosmith, has been accused in a lawsuit of sexually abusing a woman in the 1970s when she was a teenager and he was in his mid-20s.In the lawsuit, the woman, Julia Misley, accuses Mr. Tyler of using his status and power as a famous rock star to “groom, manipulate, exploit” and “sexually assault” her over the course of three years. She has previously discussed her relationship with Mr. Tyler, writing online that she met him at an Aerosmith concert in Portland, Ore., in 1973, shortly after her 16th birthday.The lawsuit, earlier reported by Rolling Stone, was filed this week under the California Child Victims Act, which temporarily lifted the statute of limitations so people who said they were sexually abused as children could file civil cases. The three-year period to file a complaint ends on Saturday.Mr. Tyler is referred to in the lawsuit, which was filed in Los Angeles Superior Court, as “Defendant Doe 1.” Lawyers and representatives who have worked for him did not respond to requests for comment.In Mr. Tyler’s memoir “Does the Noise in My Head Bother You?” he writes about a time he was so in love that he “almost took a teen bride,” describing sexual encounters with her in planes and elevators. He also describes an apartment fire that sent his unnamed lover to a hospital with smoke inhalation; Ms. Misley recounts a similar experience in her writings and her lawsuit.Ms. Misley, who is now 65 and previously went by the name Julia Holcomb, also appears in the book’s acknowledgments.She said in a statement on Friday that she was spurred to take legal action by the change in California law and that she was grateful for the new opportunity to be heard.“I want this action to expose an industry that protects celebrity offenders, to cleanse and hold accountable an industry that both exploited and allowed me to be exploited for years,” she wrote, citing Mr. Tyler by name.Her lawsuit alleges that in 1973 a “leading member of a world-famous rock band” who was 25 years old took Ms. Misley to his hotel room after a concert in Portland and “performed various acts of criminal sexual conduct.” According to the lawsuit, the singer then bought Ms. Misley a plane ticket for a concert in Seattle because she was a minor and could not travel with him across state lines.The lawsuit says the musician eventually persuaded her mother to let him become her legal guardian, so that, among other things, he could enroll her in school and provide her with better medical care. It then alleges that he “did not meaningfully follow through on these promises and instead continued to travel with, assault and provide alcohol and drugs” to Ms. Misley.In his memoir, Mr. Tyler says he gained custody of the person who nearly became his “teen bride.” “Her parents fell in love with me, signed papers over for me to have custody, so I wouldn’t get arrested if I took her out of state,” he writes. “I took her on tour.”According to the suit, Ms. Misley eventually became pregnant by the singer and was coerced by him to have an abortion.In her public writings, Ms. Misley described a turbulent upbringing before she was ensnared by a world of sex, drugs and rock ’n’ roll under Mr. Tyler’s stewardship. She later left him and married, becoming a mother of seven children.Alain Delaquérière More

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    ‘There’s No Way to Do a Good Job if You’re Judging the Character’

    The actor K. Todd Freeman has worked with Steppenwolf Theater since 1993. His roles, however challenging, usually don’t exact a personal toll. Bruce Norris’s incendiary “Downstate,” which debuted at that Chicago theater in 2018, is different.“After three or four months of doing the play,” Freeman said, “it’s like, OK, I need to stop.”Like many of Norris’s works (including “Clybourne Park”), “Downstate,” a drama about a group home for men who have committed sexual offenses against children, is in part a provocation, a goad to presumed moral certainties. It focuses on four men: Dee (Freeman), who had sexual contact with a 14-year-old boy; Felix (Eddie Torres), who molested his daughter; Fred (Francis Guinan), a former piano teacher who abused two of his students; and Gio (Glenn Davis), who committed statutory rape.So inflammatory are its themes that Steppenwolf, having received threats, had to hire additional security for the show’s run. And the production, now at the Off Broadway theater Playwrights Horizons in Manhattan after a subsequent run at London’s National Theater, continues to attract controversy, such that anyone who describes it positively risks being seen as endorsing its subject matter.From left: Guinan, Eddie Torres (partially obscured), Davis, Susanna Guzman and Freeman in the play, which is at Playwrights Horizons through Dec. 22.Sara Krulwich/The New York TimesAfter the Washington Post critic Peter Marks posted a link on Twitter to his favorable review, conservatives, including Senator Ted Cruz, attacked him. They claimed that the play and by extension the review were sympathetic to pedophiles.On a recent weekday, at a restaurant near the theater, three of the actors — the Steppenwolf regulars Freeman and Guinan, and Davis, one of the company’s artistic directors — discussed what it takes to imagine men who have done the unimaginable and how much of their own sympathy they can extend. These are edited excerpts from the conversation.Did you do much research into men who have offended against children?FREEMAN There was a literary department at Steppenwolf that provided a great research packet. They gave the laws, what jail time we all would have had, what sort of rehab we would have had, how we got from the crime to this house. And there were documentaries that were made available to us. It was never overwhelming to me.“I don’t believe in the term ‘monsters’ for human beings. I don’t like the otherness of that,” Freeman said.Clark Hodgin for The New York TimesWas there anything you learned that surprised you or made you question how the country prosecutes and treats sex offenders?DAVIS I talked to Bruce about why he wrote the play. He said, “We live in a country in which you can murder someone, go to prison, come out, and have some approximation of a decent life afterward. But if you’re marked with this scarlet letter, this follows you forever.” He said, “I want to explore how we feel about that as a culture.”GUINAN I was rather shocked by the fact that all you have to do is go online and they’ll tell you exactly where all of these people live. Primarily, it ends up being in really poor neighborhoods. I was just shocked at how many convicted child molesters there are within walking distance of my house in Illinois.FREEMAN I was like, why isn’t there a registry for murderers? I would like to know when there’s a convicted murderer moving into my neighborhood. That’s a pretty horrible thing, killing people. Why aren’t we up in arms about that as well?Have these characters fully reckoned with their actions?GUINAN Fred, while he acknowledges what a terrible thing it was, then says, “I don’t know why the Lord would make me this way.” So I don’t think so. I don’t think he has.FREEMAN There are people who like to define their lives by their past and their scars. Do they need to? And is it bad if they don’t? It’s easy to judge these people. I don’t believe in the term “monsters” for human beings. I don’t like the otherness of that. It helps us think that we’re better or different — that we could never do that. We all could.Guinan said that the role has “opened the question of ‘what about the unforgivable in your own life?’ That’s a question I really have not answered for myself.”Clark Hodgin for The New York TimesCould we? I can’t imagine a circumstance in which I would abuse a child.FREEMAN I can’t either. But most child abusers have been abused. Maybe if you had that past? We just don’t know.Did you ever find yourself judging the characters or feeling repulsion for the characters?FREEMAN That’s just not what you do as a performer. There’s no way to do a good job if you’re judging the character.DAVIS There’s a part of you that understands, psychologically, that what this character has done is wrong, egregious. And then in honoring the story, honoring the character, you divorce yourself of that judgment. If I’m playing a character and I’m not going as far as I can because of my own judgment, I should probably let someone else have it.If you were withholding judgment, why then did the play begin to weigh on you?DAVIS It’s not an easy world to live in every day. You have to prepare yourself for what you’re about to hear and do.FREEMAN These four walls are basically the characters’ entire world. Trying to believe in the reality of that, just believing in the given circumstances, it’s a weight.Is it important to you that the audience empathize with these characters?DAVIS I don’t think we as artists can predetermine the response from the audience. What I owe to the audience is a realistic portrayal of the given circumstance and to let them decide for themselves if they want to feel compassion.FREEMAN To me, this is not a play about pedophiles. To me, pedophilia is a metaphor for the limits of our compassion, our mercy, our grace.“Whether I extend a little bit of grace or a lot of grace or no grace at all, my job is simply to portray what this character was thinking, what they were after, why they do what they do,” Davis said.Clark Hodgin for The New York TimesWhat do you make of the criticism that this play is sympathetic to pedophilia?FREEMAN I don’t think there’s a single line in there that suggests that. But it’s seeing them as human.DAVIS It’s a play that forces you to look at these people outside of the worst thing they’ve ever done. For some people, that’s too much.What has been the experience of having to extend your own humanity to the most reviled?DAVIS It’s not any different, in terms of any other character that I might play who does nefarious things. These characters have done particularly egregious acts. But whether I extend a little bit of grace or a lot of grace or no grace at all, my job is simply to portray what this character was thinking, what they were after, why they do what they do. So I don’t know if I would necessarily put it in those terms, that I’m extending my humanity, because it can sound like I’m forgiving them on some level. As an actor, I simply need to get inside of them.GUINAN For myself, it’s opened the question of “what about the unforgivable in your own life?” That’s a question I really have not answered for myself. Do you let yourself off the hook? And how do you do that?FREEMAN This is one of the best roles I’ve ever done. Because it is dangerous. And because it is scary. And incendiary. Who wants to do something that’s forgettable and nice? More

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    Warren Beatty Is Accused of Sexually Assaulting a Minor in 1973

    In a lawsuit filed this week, the plaintiff says Mr. Beatty groomed and coerced her into sex when she was 14 and 15. The actor, who had starred in “Bonnie and Clyde,” was about 35 at the time.Warren Beatty, the famed “Bonnie and Clyde” actor and Oscar-winning director, was accused in a lawsuit this week of sexually assaulting a girl in 1973 when she was 14 and 15.The suit, filed on Monday in Los Angeles Superior Court, alleges that Mr. Beatty used his status as a Hollywood star to “groom, manipulate, exploit and coerce sexual contact” with a minor.The plaintiff, Kristina Charlotte Hirsch, alleges that the abuse took place over several months after she met Mr. Beatty on a film set in Los Angeles when he was about 35. Although the lawsuit does not refer to Mr. Beatty by name, it identifies the primary defendant as an actor who was nominated for an Academy Award for portraying Clyde in “Bonnie and Clyde,” as Mr. Beatty was in 1968.Representatives for Mr. Beatty, now 85, did not immediately respond to a request for comment.The lawsuit was filed under a California law from 2019 that allows adults to temporarily override the statute of limitations and file claims related to sexual abuse that are decades old. The so-called look-back window for lawsuits from people older than 40 expires on Jan. 1, 2023.In the lawsuit, Ms. Hirsch describes a relationship with Mr. Beatty that began with him commenting on her looks and providing his phone number before extending invitations to his hotel room. She says he offered to help her with homework and took her on car rides.Eventually, she says, their interactions came to include “oral sex, simulated sex and finally coerced sexual intercourse.” Ms. Hirsch is suing for damages for “severe emotional, physical and psychological distress” that she says continues to this day.Ms. Hirsch’s lawyers, Michael Reck and Michael G. Finnegan, declined to comment, saying they would let the complaint speak for itself.The younger brother of the actress Shirley MacLaine, Mr. Beatty emerged as Hollywood royalty in the 1960s. His role in “Bonnie and Clyde,” which he both starred in and produced, cemented his status as a maverick filmmaker and central figure in what became known as the New Hollywood of the 1970s.The film’s graphic and morally ambivalent portrayal of the violent outlaws divided critics. Mr. Beatty went on to success as a director with the hit comedy “Heaven Can Wait” and won an Academy Award in 1982 for directing the political drama “Reds,” which he also starred in.Mr. Beatty, who became nearly as known for his relationships with famous women offscreen as for his performances, has been married to the actress Annette Bening since 1992. More