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    Vance and Walz’s Battle of the Network Co-Stars

    In what could be the last prime-time showdown of the 2024 campaign, the supporting players performed against type.If a presidential election is a TV series — and partly it is, like it or not — then the vice-presidential debate is usually a departure episode: an installment that briefly shifts focus to a couple of side characters. It might be memorable or forgettable, but it is generally skippable.Tuesday’s debate between Senator JD Vance of Ohio and Gov. Tim Walz of Minnesota was a bit different. With only Kamala Harris having committed to an Oct. 23 debate proffered by CNN and Donald J. Trump having thus far declined, it may well have been the last big prime-time moment until election night.It was not, however, a bombshell-packed season-ender. The change in cast produced a change in style, in a spirited but often surprisingly collegial debate whose attacks were largely aimed offstage, at the leaders of the ticket.This was not the debate one might have expected from these candidates, each chosen in part for his media presence. Mr. Vance has been combative in TV interviews, embodying the trolling spirit of Mr. Trump’s most extremely online surrogates. Mr. Walz shot to fame on the strength of his cable news appearances and quirky viral videos, playing the down-to-earth happy warrior who mocked opponents as “weird.”Neither performed to type on the CBS stage. Mr. Vance, who can be cutting and snide in TV interviews (and has been notorious for insults like “childless cat ladies”), answered smoothly and kept mainly cordial to his opponent. Mr. Walz, while peppering his answers with folksy touches — “My pro tip of the day is this” — spoke in a nervous rush, with fewer flashes of “Coach Walz” pep.A decade of Trump has conditioned us to think of debates as rounds of Mortal Kombat, with dire rhetoric and imagery to match. Here, there was a lot of “I agree” and “I think this is a healthy conversation” amid the factual disputes and prepared critiques of the top of the ticket. You might briefly have forgotten this was America in the year 2024.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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    Candice Bergen Takes a Jab at JD Vance at the Emmys

    The actress Candice Bergen was summoned to the Emmys this year to present an award. She also landed a political jab.Bergen is perhaps best known for playing the titular character in “Murphy Brown.” In her brief remarks, she recalled that her character, an unmarried news anchor, was rebuked by Vice President Dan Quayle in 1992 after she gave birth to a baby boy.The criticism from Quayle came during his unsuccessful re-election campaign with President George H.W. Bush. While Quayle was talking about family values, he said that Bergen’s character was “mocking the importance of fathers, by bearing a child alone, and calling it just another ‘lifestyle choice.’”Bergen won five Emmys for her work on “Murphy Brown.” At Sunday’s ceremony, she recalled the kerfuffle with Quayle, which became front-page news, and offered a quip.“Oh, how far we’ve come,” Bergen said. “Today, a Republican candidate for vice president would never attack a woman for having kids.”It was a thinly veiled reference to Senator JD Vance of Ohio, former President Donald J. Trump’s running mate, who has complained that the United States is being run by Democrats, specifically “a bunch of childless cat ladies.”Aware of this, Bergen continued, “So, as they say, my work here is done.”Then she added some onomatopoeia: “Meow.” More

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    ‘Chimp Crazy,’ ‘Childless Cat Ladies’ and the Fault Lines of Family Life

    The charged cultural conversation about pets and children — see “Chimp Crazy,” “childless cat ladies” and more — reveals the hidden contradictions of family life.“Monkey love is totally different than the way that you have love for your child,” Tonia Haddix, an exotic animal broker, says at the beginning of “Chimp Crazy,” the documentary HBO series investigating the world of chimpanzee ownership. “If it’s your natural born child, it’s just natural because you actually gave birth to that kid. But when you adopt a monkey, the bond is much, much deeper.”“Chimp Crazy” arrives in a summer of cultural and political obsession about the place of animals in our family lives. When JD Vance became the Republican vice-presidential nominee, his 2021 comment about “childless cat ladies” resurfaced, positioning them as adversaries of the traditional family. New York magazine published a special issue questioning the ethics of pet ownership, featuring a polarizing essay from an anonymous mother who neglected her cat once her human baby arrived. In the background of these stories, you can hear the echoes of an internet-wide argument that pits companion animals against human children, pet and tot forced into a psychic battle for adult recognition.These dynamics feel supercharged since 2020, the year when American family life — that insular institution that is expected to provide for all human care needs — became positively airtight. The coronavirus pandemic exaggerated a wider trend toward domestic isolation: pet owners spending more time with their animals, parents more time with their children, everyone less time with one another — except perhaps online, where our domestic scenes collide in a theater of grievance and stress.When a cat, a dog or certainly a chimp scampers through a family story, it knocks it off-kilter, revealing its hypocrisies and its harms. In “Chimp Crazy,” Haddix emerges as the avatar for all the contradictions of the domestic ideal of private home care: She loves her chimp “babies” with such obsession that she traps them (and herself) in a miserable diorama of family life.Haddix, a 50-something woman who describes herself as the “Dolly Parton of Chimps,” believes that God chose her to be a caretaker. She was a registered nurse before she became a live-in volunteer at a ramshackle chimp breeding facility in Missouri, where she speaks of a male chimp named Tonka as if she is his mother. Haddix also has two human children; she just loves them less, and says so on television.As she appoints herself the parent to an imprisoned wild animal, she asserts an idealized form of mothering — one she describes as selfless, unending and pure. “Chimp Crazy” is the story of just how ruinous this idea of love can be, for the woman and the ape.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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    J.D. Vance Becomes Trump’s New Apprentice

    In his prime-time debut, the senator and “Hillbilly Elegy” author showed what he has to offer his running mate.Speaking Wednesday at the Republican National Convention, Senator J.D. Vance of Ohio became the latest, and potentially most consequential, of Donald J. Trump’s apprentices to accept the position in prime time.For years as the host of “The Apprentice,” Mr. Trump picked out protégés from boardrooms full of young supplicants. There was a delicate art to getting the nod. Offend him and you might be dismissed; appear too thirsty and you could get the boot as well. The key was to be yourself but also be him, to be a mirror but a flattering one, to be an echo auto-tuned to please the boss’s ear.Mr. Vance spent much of his two years in the Senate auditioning for the promotion to vice-presidential nominee, cultivating a relationship, apologizing for his Never-Trumper apostasy and recently blaming Biden campaign rhetoric for leading “directly” to the assassination attempt against Mr. Trump.Accepting the nomination on Wednesday night, he cast himself as a loyal fighter, an ideological heir and a grateful son of the working class with roots in Appalachia and the Rust Belt.With Merle Haggard’s “America First” as his walk-on music, he began his speech praising Mr. Trump: “He didn’t need politics,” Mr. Vance said, “but the country needed him.” Mr. Trump looked on smiling in split-screen, as if watching a winner at a season finale.When it came to introducing himself, Mr. Vance had a head start and a challenge. He was telling a story he had already told, in the memoir “Hillbilly Elegy,” and so had Ron Howard, in the 2020 film adaptation.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 ‘Hillbilly Elegy,’ Film Based on JD Vance’s Memoir

    The 2020 film generally follows the book about the Republican vice presidential nominee’s formative years. But there are significant differences.Before J.D. Vance became the Republican vice-presidential nominee or even ventured into politics, he was best known as the author of “Hillbilly Elegy,” a memoir about growing up in the Rust Belt and Appalachia. Published in 2016, the book became a surprise best seller, offering one kind of answer to those searching for an explanation for Donald Trump’s presidential victory and trying to understand the experience of impoverished white Americans.The success of Vance’s book led to a movie adaptation with Imagine Entertainment winning the film rights in 2017. Netflix eventually spent a reported $45 million to finance the movie, which had a limited theatrical release in November 2020 before moving to streaming soon after. Unlike the book, the film received scathing reviews from critics.Here’s what to know about the movie:Who made “Hillbilly Elegy”? Who stars in it?Directed by Ron Howard with Vance getting an executive producer credit, the film stars Gabriel Basso as Vance. Glenn Close plays his grandmother, Mamaw, a loud, gruff but caring matriarch, and Amy Adams is his mother, Bev, who grapples with mental health issues and substance abuse. The cast includes Freida Pinto as Vance’s wife, Usha.Parts of the film were shot in Middletown, Ohio, where Vance grew up, as well as in Georgia, because of the state’s generous tax incentives.What is “Hillbilly Elegy” about?The film mostly follows Vance’s memoir. It begins with a younger Vance (played by Owen Asztalos) biking along a dirt path, while an older Vance narrates his love for the hill country of Jackson, Ky. Alternating between past and present, the film toggles between Vance’s unstable childhood growing up with Mamaw and a mother struggling with addiction and his adult years as a student at Yale Law School. While competing for a prestigious summer internship, Vance receives a call from his sister, Lindsay (Haley Bennett), who asks him to return home to care for his mother, who has been hospitalized after overdosing on heroin.Glenn Close with Bennett and Owen Asztalos as a young Vance in “Hillbilly Elegy. Lacey Terrell/NetflixWe 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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    How Hollywood and the Media Fueled the Political Rise of J.D. Vance

    “Hillbilly Elegy,” a best-selling memoir that became a star-studded film, raised the profile of the onetime “Never Trump guy” who won an Ohio primary with the help of the former president.Members of New York’s smart set gathered on a warm Thursday evening in the early summer of 2016 at the ornately wallpapered apartment of two Yale Law School professors in the elegant Ansonia building on Manhattan’s Upper West Side to toast a Marine Corps veteran, venture capitalist and first-time author named J.D. Vance.They were celebrating Mr. Vance’s new memoir, “Hillbilly Elegy,” which chronicled his working-class upbringing in southwestern Ohio and an ascent that brought him to Yale, where his mentors included Amy Chua, one of the party’s hosts. Mr. Vance seemed modest, self-effacing and a bit of a fish out of water among guests drawn from the worlds of publishing and journalism, a half-dozen attendees later recalled. “It was almost stupid how disarmed the people were by that,” said one of them, the novelist Joshua Cohen.“Hillbilly Elegy,” which came out as Donald J. Trump was overcoming long odds to win the presidency, became a phenomenon, and Mr. Vance — a conservative who reassured Charlie Rose that fall that he was “a Never Trump guy” and “never liked him,” and later said he voted for a third-party candidate that year — became widely sought out for his views on what drove white working-class Trump supporters, particularly in the Rust Belt. The book, which had a modest initial print run of 10,000 copies, went on to sell more than three million, according to its publisher, HarperCollins. It was made into a 2020 feature film by Hollywood A-listers including the director Ron Howard and the actresses Amy Adams and Glenn Close. But the J.D. Vance story did not end there.The former “Never Trump guy” went on to embrace Mr. Trump last year, and eagerly accepted his endorsement in the Republican primary for an open U.S. Senate seat in Ohio that he won earlier this month. Mr. Vance, who once called Mr. Trump “reprehensible,” thanked Mr. Trump “for giving us an example of what could be in this country.”Mr. Trump’s endorsement proved critical in the race, along with the financial support of Peter Thiel, the conservative Silicon Valley billionaire, and favorable coverage by Tucker Carlson on Fox News. But Mr. Vance’s political rise was also made possible by the worlds of publishing, media and Hollywood, fields long seen as liberal bastions, which had embraced him as a credible geographer of a swath of America that coastal elites knew little about, believing that he shared their objections to Mr. Trump.“The reason ‘Hillbilly Elegy’ was such a high-octane book was academics, professors, cultural arbitrators — liberals — embraced it as explaining a forgotten part of America,” said Douglas Brinkley, a professor of history at Rice University who once introduced Mr. Vance at an event. “They wouldn’t have touched Vance with a 10-foot pole if they thought he was part of this Trump, xenophobic, bigot-fueled zeitgeist.”Mr. Howard, who has said that he sought to downplay the political implications of “Hillbilly Elegy” in directing the film, describing it as a family drama, declined to comment for this article. But he told The Hollywood Reporter that he was “surprised by some of the positions” Mr. Vance has taken and the “statements he’s made.” He has not spoken with Mr. Vance since the film’s release, he said.Many of the entities in publishing and Hollywood who helped fuel Mr. Vance’s rise — including HarperCollins, which published his book; Mr. Howard and his co-producer, Brian Grazer; and Netflix, which financed and distributed the film — declined to comment on his reinvention as a Trumpist who rails against elites and who campaigned with polarizing far-right figures, including Representatives Marjorie Taylor Greene of Georgia and Matt Gaetz of Florida.“Hillbilly Elegy” was made into a film starring Amy Adams and Gabriel Basso.Lacey Terrell/NETFLIX“Hillbilly Elegy” was published by a subsidiary of News Corp., which is controlled by the conservative Murdoch family, but through a flagship imprint that puts out broadly appealing books. It did not originally mention Mr. Trump. In an afterword added to the paperback edition, Mr. Vance wrote that despite his reservations about Mr. Trump, “there were parts of his candidacy that really spoke to me,” citing his “disdain for the ‘elites’” and his insight that Republicans had done too little for working- and middle-class voters.Mr. Vance’s book had a modest initial print run of 10,000 copies but ended up selling more than three million, according to its publisher, HarperCollins.HarperCollins“Hillbilly Elegy” tried to explain some of those voters’ concerns, and in appearances on CNN (where he was named a contributor) and National Public Radio, as well as in opinion essays in The New York Times in 2016 and 2017, Mr. Vance tried to connect those concerns to their support for Mr. Trump.“He owes nearly everything to having become a ‘Trump whisperer’ phenomenon,” Rod Dreher, whose interview with Mr. Vance for The American Conservative in July 2016 was so popular it briefly crashed the magazine’s website, said in an email. “The thing is, he didn’t seek this out. J.D. became celebrated because he really had something important to say, and said it in a way that was comprehensible to a wide audience.”But he also found a particular audience among liberals. “Though ‘Hillbilly Elegy’ was read widely across the political spectrum, my impression was that the book helped liberals to understand the causes of what had happened to them in the election of 2016,” said Adrian Zackheim, the publisher of several Penguin Random House imprints, including Sentinel, which focuses on conservative books.Mr. Vance’s work was embraced at a moment when Mr. Trump’s surprising election prompted many media executives to consider what audiences they had been overlooking. ABC, for instance, decided to make a reboot of the sitcom “Roseanne,” a lighthearted prime-time portrayal of people who supported Mr. Trump, including Roseanne Conner herself. (The show was later canceled after its star, Roseanne Barr, posted a racist tweet.)In 2019, Netflix won a bidding war and pledged a reported $45 million to finance the “Hillbilly Elegy” film. It received poor reviews, but was reportedly among Netflix’s most-streamed films the week of its release in November of 2020. Both Mr. Howard and Mr. Grazer have been generous Democratic donors, according to Federal Election Commission filings. In the run-up to the 2020 election, Ms. Close, who played Mr. Vance’s grandmother, put up a series of social media posts urging voters to support Joseph R. Biden Jr. Ms. Close’s representatives did not respond to inquiries.As Mr. Vance ran as an outsider and a conservative, some of his opponents have sought to link him to Hollywood.Drew Angerer/Getty ImagesLast year, as Mr. Vance began his Senate run, he renounced his earlier criticism of Mr. Trump. He deleted some old tweets, including one that had called Mr. Trump “reprehensible.” Last month, Mr. Trump embraced Mr. Vance as a prodigal son “who said some bad” stuff about him, using a stronger word than stuff. (Mr. Vance’s campaign declined to comment for this article.)As a Republican candidate in a Republican-leaning Midwestern state, Mr. Vance did not appear eager to tout the central role the publishing, media and film industries played in his rise. But his political opponents have been more than happy to draw the connection.An ad last month for Josh Mandel, a Republican who ran against Mr. Vance in the primary, said Mr. Vance “wrote a book trashing Ohioans as hillbillies, then sold his story to Hollywood.” And Elizabeth Walters, the chairwoman of the Ohio Democratic Party, charged that Mr. Vance had landed “a New York City book deal to cash in on Ohioans’ pain” and made “untold millions from a Netflix Hollywood movie.”Accepting the nomination, Mr. Vance attacked “a Democrat party that bends the knee to major American corporations and their woke values, because the Democrats actually agree with those ridiculous values, you know, 42 genders and all the other insanity.”The fact that a rising star in the Republican Party, which has recently emphasized cultural grievances with the likes of Twitter, CNN and Disney, came to prominence through elite media institutions is not surprising to scholars and cultural critics who have long understood the symbiotic relationship between those ostensible antagonists: the conservative movement and the media-entertainment complex.“To establish populist bona fides — since they represent economic elites — cultural elites are the ones they can rally against,” said Neil Gross, a professor of sociology at Colby College.Frank Rich, an essayist, television producer, and former New York Times critic and columnist, said that some of the contemporary Republican Party’s biggest stars — including Mr. Vance, Mr. Trump and Senator Josh Hawley of Missouri — are “the products of elite institutions” whose “constant railing against the elites is just odd, because it’s so disingenuous.”“Where would Vance be if it hadn’t been for mainstream publishing and book promotion, if it hadn’t been for Ron Howard — an important person in show business who identifies as liberal — and Glenn Close and Netflix?” Mr. Rich asked. “Where would Trump be without NBC Universal, Mark Burnett, the whole showbiz world?”Kathryn Cramer Brownell, an associate professor of history at Purdue University, situated Mr. Vance in a lineage of figures from the entertainment world who became Republican politicians, including George Murphy, an actor turned senator from California; Ronald Reagan, whose success as a film actor helped him become California governor and president; Arnold Schwarzenegger, another movie star and California governor; and Mr. Trump, a longtime tabloid fixture who gained newfound celebrity during the 2000s as host of the NBC reality competition show “The Apprentice,” created by Mr. Burnett.“This is something they are really quick to criticize the left for — relying too much on Hollywood for support and glamour,” Brownell said.“But,” she added, “the Republican Party has been more successful at turning entertainers into successful candidates than Democrats.” More