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    A ‘Polar Express’ Character Comes to Life

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    Nia Wilkerson has spent years hearing that she looks like the girl from “The Polar Express.” On TikTok, she’s leaning into it.“Oh my God! You’re the girl from ‘The Polar Express,’” a tourist yelled at Nia Wilkerson.Dressed in a pink nightgown, Ms. Wilkerson was dancing in front of the Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center in Midtown Manhattan for a TikTok video.Over the course of the next two hours on Monday afternoon, dozens more people stopped and stared. Many of them filmed her from afar or asked to take selfies with her.“Wait, are you really the girl from the movie?” a passer-by asked.The answer to that question is no. Ms. Wilkerson, a senior at St. John’s University in Queens, was 3 years old in 2004, when “The Polar Express” was released.The movie, a box office hit directed by Robert Zemeckis that was based on a children’s book by Chris Van Allsburg, has long drawn criticism because of its brand of motion-capture animation, which gives its characters an eerie, zombified look.Hero Girl in a scene from “The Polar Express,” a 2004 movie made with motion-capture animation that has been criticized for the odd look of its characters.Ms. Wilkerson, 22, said that ever since she was an elementary school student in Woodbridge, Va., people had been telling her she looks like Hero Girl, a character in the film who is also known as Holly. Later, a high school crush pointed out the resemblance.“That was heartbreaking,” she joked.Since then, Ms. Wilkerson, who stands five foot tall, has come to embrace her digital doppelgänger. This is the fourth holiday season she has spent making TikTok videos in the guise of Hero Girl. Each year, her popularity has grown. She now has nearly a 250,000 followers.

    @niasporin ♬ original sound – $ Ms. Wilkerson said she got the idea after seeing another woman on TikTok cosplaying as the character. “But she didn’t really look like her,” she said.In “The Polar Express,” Holly wears pigtails and a patterned pink nightgown. Ms. Wilkerson goes with a variation on the look for her TikToks.“It’s a seasonal gig,” she said, adding that she was recently swarmed by people in Elmo costumes while making a video in Times Square.Ms. Wilkerson posed with her fans in Rockefeller Center.Scott Rossi for The New York TimesAccompanying her on Monday were several of her St. John’s classmates, who acted as her unpaid film crew. “My friendship is my payment,” Ms. Wilkerson joked, adding she had bought the group food at the campus dining hall during the weeks of filming.She used to suffer from social anxiety, she said, but her TikTok alter ego has helped her overcome it. “No one in New York cares,” she said. “I would never do this anywhere else.”Ms. Wilkerson, who is studying television and film at St. John’s, has found ways to profit from her 15 minutes of seasonal fame. She participates in TikTok’s creator fund, a program that the company uses to pays certain people who make videos for the platform, she said. Musicians have reached out to her about making videos, she added. Her rate is about $250 per video, she said. Outside of the holiday season, she makes videos on other topics, but her views drop off precipitously.While most of the feedback has been positive, Ms. Wilkerson said she no longer read the replies to her videos, after having seen too many racist comments. Still, there have been upsides to her social media fame, like a recent collaboration with @jerseyyjoe, a popular TikTok creator known for his dance moves who sometimes makes videos dressed as Hero Boy from “The Polar Express.”

    @jerseyyjoe The duo you never expected 🤣🚊🔥 ( DC: ME ) #jerseyclub #jerseyyjoe #jersey #trend #viral #fyp ♬ the polar express jersey club – Ali Beats After an afternoon of shooting, Ms. Wilkerson and her friends discussed their upcoming final exams while waiting for an F train on a subway station platform. Ms. Wilkerson mentioned an earlier subway video, during which she had accidentally kicked a passenger.After boarding a rush-hour train car, they wriggled into formation to film another TikTok. One of Ms. Wilkerson’s friends, Amanda Gopie, 20, pointed at a sign that read: “Don’t be someone’s subway story. Courtesy counts.”“That’s you,” Ms. Gopie said, to laughs from the others in the group.As the F train rolled toward Queens, Ms. Wilkerson and her friends recorded themselves singing “When Christmas Comes to Town,” a song from “The Polar Express.”“The best time of the year, when everyone comes home,” Ms. Wilkerson began.As her friends joined in to form a shaky chorus, a few riders perked their heads up in recognition. One told the singers to work on their pitch. The group decided they’d try another take. More

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      The North to Shore Festival Comes to New Jersey

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      A new arts festival featuring local and marquee-name talent is coming to the Garden State.Gov. Philip D. Murphy of New Jersey, along with the first lady, Tammy Murphy, had a vision: A new performance festival in their home state that could rival South by Southwest in Texas or Bonnaroo in Tennessee. And they had a plan to distinguish it.“Austin and Nashville are great towns,” the governor said, referring to two famous arts hubs that are connected to notable festivals. “But if you stop to consider the cultural priorities of the states that govern them, you say, ‘Wait a minute.’ You’re hoodwinked if you get taken by the coolness.”A festival in New Jersey, they argued, would be produced in a state whose values align with issues like gun safety and reproductive rights, a bragging right difficult to come by in the south. But what organizers are really touting with the event, which is being produced for the first time this summer, is the mix of homegrown talent and national acts (Halsey, Santana, Jazmine Sullivan) performing across three different cities, from the state’s largest city to the coast.The North to Shore Festival will roam from Atlantic City to Asbury Park to Newark throughout the month. Its inaugural run will feature more than 220 acts — including music, comedy, dance and film — in 115 venues. “When you combine all the talent we have in New Jersey with the fact that our values are on the right side of history, we thought, there’s no reason we couldn’t give this a shot,” Mr. Murphy said.In May, the festival doubled in size, in part because of a commitment to local talent. Grants of up to $5,000 were handed out to 58 New Jersey-based artists.“What I love about it is that it’s a combination of the biggest names in entertainment and comedy and film,” said John Schreiber, president and chief executive of the New Jersey Performing Arts Center in Newark, which is producing the festival, “but it’s also a chance to turn up the volume on the local folks I call the local heroes — the artists, the creators, the presenters, the producers — who work in these cities 365 days a year.”One example of this kind of artistic convergence is “You Got VERRRSED: NJ Poets vs. New York Poets,” which will take place in Newark on June 24, the day after Marisa Monte, a Grammy Award winner, performs there.In each host city, venues stretch beyond the familiar. Newark, for example, will host “Jersey Club 101,” a combination dance lesson and party, at Ariya Plaza Hall, a local dance club known for hosting private events and the occasional concert, on June 24.On June 9 in Atlantic City, a brewery, The Seed: A Living Beer Project, will host a multidisciplinary event, “From Earth to Cup,” with live music, pottery making and samples of its craft beers. The following afternoon at Sovereign Avenue Field, a popular skatepark, local hardcore and punk bands will play free shows in the “Back Sov Bullies Concert.”While Asbury Park’s famous rock club, the Stone Pony, will see its share of action — with Eric B. & Rakim, Brian Fallon, Demi Lovato and the B-52’s all scheduled to perform — stages at the lesser-known Watermark, down the street, will also be in heavy rotation and can expect to see more traffic than usual.Alexander Simone and his seven-piece band, the Whodat? Live Crew, will play there on June 14. Mr. Simone, 34, who is from the area and the grandson of Nina Simone, won a grant to take part in North to Shore with the band, which leans toward funk and R&B, after being nominated by local fans. The recognition confirmed something he already knew: “I am definitely one of the most known bands in this community,” he said.Now he hopes that other parts of the country will pay more attention to his music. “Artists are coming this way, to Jersey, and bringing people with them the way South by Southwest brings people to Texas,” he said. “They’re coming to see what we have to offer on this end.”Billboards along the Garden State Parkway and the New Jersey Turnpike are promoting the festival. Mr. Schreiber said he expects more than 350,000 people to attend. The overall windfall for New Jersey’s economy, he added, could be $100 million. “We’re betting the economic impact in all three of these communities will far outweigh any of the investment we have to make,” Mr. Murphy said.Amanda Towers, a founder of the Seed, a Living Beer Project, which will host a multidisciplinary event with music, pottery and beer in Atlantic City.Jennifer Pottheiser for The New York TimesNatalie Merchant, accompanied by New York City’s Orchestra of St. Luke’s, will perform in Newark on June 25. “I think it’s really ambitious and impressive,” she said of the idea behind the festival.But her decision to participate did not have much to do with performing in a liberal-leaning state, Ms. Merchant said. “I tend to not penalize my fans in states with political conditions like abortion restrictions.” Instead, “I talk about them onstage.”The North to Shore Festival will take place June 4-11 in Atlantic City, June 14-18 in Asbury Park and June 21-25 in Newark. More

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      After 40 Years of Fa-La-Laing, a New York Caroler Hands In His Bells

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      A onetime Macy’s elf, Tom Andolora founded a troupe that sang Christmas carols in Victorian dress. Now he is packing it in, worried about the survival of New York caroling.He has been heckled, slapped by a drunk Wall Street banker and ignored altogether. He has performed in the cake section of a Bronx supermarket, serenaded commuters on frigid Manhattan subway platforms and sung from inside a claustrophobic display window at Bloomingdale’s.Being a Christmas caroler in New York City is not for the fainthearted. Just ask Tom Andolora, a onetime elf at Macy’s Santaland, who has spent the past four decades leading the Dickens’ Victorian Carolers, which he founded in 1982.Now, after a long career in which the Carolers have tried to spread a little comfort and joy to sick children at Harlem Hospital, provided the soundtrack for wedding proposals at Rockefeller Center and serenaded several first ladies at the White House, Andolora, 65, is caroling for the last time this Christmas, before turning in his bells and retiring.“Caroling is a dying art form and I don’t know if New York caroling will even be around in a decade,” he said, wistfully flipping through old photos of himself, in his top hat and Victorian dress.“People don’t want religion or tradition anymore,” he worried. “I’ve given up my Christmases for 40 years. I’m done.”The lingering effects of the coronavirus pandemic; holiday playlists that are now heavier on Mariah Carey than the Choir of King’s College, Cambridge; competition from younger upstarts who can rap “Jingle Bells”; and the closure of storied New York department stores like Lord & Taylor and Gimbels were all making traditional Victorian-style caroling increasingly untenable.Andolora said the caroling business had never fully recovered from the coronavirus. “We are still getting cancellations,” he said. “People are getting Covid or are afraid of getting it.”Bretana Turkon, Andolora, Rebecca Reres and Justin Tepper in 19th-century garb.Vincent Tullo for The New York TimesCarols and caroling dates back at least to the Middle Ages in England, when people would go “a-wassailing” — singing Christmas songs in the streets in return for an alcoholic drink known as wassail, traditionally made with warmed ale, wine or cider, blended with spices and honey.In New York, the caroling tradition has existed for decades, with dozens of groups who take to the streets in all five boroughs, bringing a little Christmas cheer to grumpy department store shoppers, neighborhood churches and soulless corporate parties, sometimes for as much as $1,500 an appearance.Andolora began his Christmastime career as an elf.The year was 1981 and Andolora, the grandson of Italian immigrants, had recently arrived in Manhattan from Jamestown, N.Y., eager to make it big in show business like another Jamestown native, Lucille Ball. To begin with, however, he had to pay the rent, and was soon wearing a jaunty green hat, a green velvet tunic and red knee-high boots at Macy’s Santaland.He quickly worked his way up from “Tree Elf” to “Cashier Elf” before graduating to “Photo Elf” — positioning sometimes screaming children for their photos with Santa. He taught acting at Brooklyn College for a time, and also adapted and directed a gothic play about the secret lives of the dead.But inspired after hearing caroling groups he found wanting, Andolora, a powerful baritone, decided he could do better. And so the Dickens’ Victorian Carolers were born, a quartet clad in 19th-century garb — black top hats, lace collars, capes, hoop skirts and white gloves — which has drawn its ranks from cruise ships and Broadway productions like “Show Boat.”It turns out there is a crowded field of Dickensian carolers, apparently inspired by “A Christmas Carol,” and it has sometimes been difficult for the Dickens’ Victorian Carolers to stand out. There are the Dickens Carolers of Seattle, the Dickens Carolers of Kansas and the Original Dickens Carolers of Denver.“I added the word ‘Victorian’ to our name to try and be different,” Andolora explained.Andolora paid his dues (and the rent) as an elf at Macy’s Santaland.Vincent Tullo for The New York TimesLooking back on his caroling days, Andolora said there had been mirth but also some Grinch-worthy moments, including a shopper who jeered, “That was terrible!” On more than one occasion, a member of the quartet has belted out “Twelve Days of Christmas” with stentorian gusto when the group was supposed to be singing a soulful version of “Silent Night.”Some years ago, at a private Christmas party in a Park Avenue penthouse, Andolora accidentally shoved a porcelain Buddha with his foot during a spirited rendition of “Deck the Halls.” He dislodged the statue’s arm, which fell with a thump to the floor.“It was mortifying,” he said, adding that the host, a wealthy impresario, forgave him.There have also been high points, like when a New York State Police officer proposing to his fiancée hired the group to gather nearby and sing “Congratulations!” as he got down on one knee.“He still sends me a Christmas card every year,” he said.The Carolers have also performed at the White House during four administrations. Andolora recalled that Nancy Reagan’s party was impeccably run, that the Clintons never showed up to take their photo, and that President Barack Obama teased the group about its oversize hoop skirts.Whatever the challenges of caroling in the Big City, Andolora said he had no regrets.“I have loved caroling since I was a kid,” he said. “It can bring people to tears.” More

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      Hong Kong Elvis Impersonator Dies at 68

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      AdvertisementContinue reading the main storySupported byContinue reading the main storyMelvis Kwok, Tireless Elvis Impersonator in Hong Kong, Dies at 68Mr. Kwok, who busked in the Chinese territory for 28 years, was hardly the first Elvis Presley impersonator in Asia. But he may have been the most committed.Melvis Kwok, who died last month at 68, was a full-time Elvis impersonator in Hong Kong. “Elvis is my savior,” he once told The New York Times.Credit…Antony Dickson/South China Morning Post, via Getty ImagesJan. 15, 2021Updated 3:06 a.m. ETHONG KONG — For nearly three decades, Melvis Kwok spent his evenings dressed as Elvis Presley, playing guitar on the sidewalks of Hong Kong as neon signs reflected off his sequined jumpsuits.In a banking hub full of office workers, Mr. Kwok, who died last month at 68, was a rare figure: a full-time busker with a rockabilly pompadour. He played through rain and blistering heat, and for years before and after Britain returned the territory to Chinese rule in 1997.He was hardly the first singer in Asia to imitate Elvis, who died in 1977. But he may have been the most committed.Mr. Kwok liked to say that he had not missed a day of busking in 28 years. He also impersonated Elvis even when he was not performing, saying that his goal was to bring the American rock ’n’ roll legend back to life.“I am very satisfied,” he told The New York Times in 2010, at a time when he was clearing about $64 a night in tips. “If I stop, I will collapse.”Mr. Kwok, whose real name was Kwok Lam-sang, died on Dec. 29 in Hong Kong, said Helen Ma, the president of the local chapter of the International Elvis Presley Fan Club, which reported the death on its Facebook page this week. She said the cause was kidney failure.Impersonating Elvis is apparently still a thing, and not only in Las Vegas, where a look-alike will walk brides down the aisle at the Graceland Wedding Chapel for $199.In 2017, for instance, more than 20 impersonators from across the Asia Pacific region turned up in the Philippines for an “Elvis in Asia” contest. The winner won a trip to Graceland, the Presley estate in Memphis, Tenn.And in Hong Kong, the local Elvis fan club holds regular events and has more than 2,400 Facebook followers. Mr. Kwok was one of two noted Elvis impersonators in the city of 7.5 million.“Elvis is my savior,” he told The Times in 2010, speaking in a coffee shop before heading out for his nightly rounds.Mr. Kwok rarely played inside venues, said Jonathan Zeman of the Lan Kwai Fong Group, a local entertainment and hospitality group. Instead, he would saunter through nightlife districts and approach people who were drinking in the street or in doorways.“Played an Elvis song for a small group of people, made them happy, received a few dollars,” Mr. Zeman said.Mr. Kwok rarely played inside venues. Instead, he would saunter through Hong Kong’s nightlife districts, approaching people who were drinking in the street or in doorways.Credit…Anthony Wallace/Agence France-Presse — Getty ImagesKwok Lam-sang was born in Jakarta, the Indonesian capital, and was ethnically Chinese, Ms. Ha said. Other details about his life, including his exact date of birth and details about his parents, were not immediately available.In 1967, a year after Mao Zedong began the Cultural Revolution, Mr. Kwok’s family moved to the southern Chinese province of Guizhou, he said in a recent interview with The South China Morning Post newspaper.He attended high school on the mainland and moved to Hong Kong in 1974, where he worked in a factory as an electrician. He became interested in Elvis after hearing of the singer’s death and watching a documentary about him.“I cried a long time,” he told The Times, recalling the first time he saw the film, “Elvis: That’s the Way It Is.”Mr. Kwok won a pair of Elvis-impersonation contests in the early 1980s, The South China Morning Post reported, but local Chinese fans often mistook him for an imitator of other famous musicians — a Beatle, say, or Michael Jackson.By 1992, Mr. Kwok had quit his job and branded himself the “Cat King,” the Chinese moniker for Elvis. He’d also set his sights on an easier quarry: Western expatriates and tourists.His guitar was sometimes out of tune, his self-taught English a bit rough. (His business card misspelled Presley’s first name.)Still, he earned a living, and said that being Elvis beat factory work. Some revelers came to know him as Melvis — no relation to Relvis, an impersonator in the United States — or the “Lan Kwai Fong Elvis,” a reference to a nightlife district where he often performed.Mr. Kwok died at the end of a year in which coronavirus infections in live music venues led the government to close them for months on end, emptying the sidewalks of his potential customers. Ms. Ma said that he spent much of his pandemic downtime watching Elvis videos and playing guitar in his apartment.Mr. Kwok is survived by his wife, Anna, and their two children, a son and a daughter.His wife, who was also his manager, told The Times in 2010 that she had not initially supported his campaign to be Elvis. “But then I was moved by his persistence and devotion to the job,” she said.It’s hard to find a job one loves, she added. “Now that he’s found it, I am happy to support him.”AdvertisementContinue reading the main story More