TIME - Entertainment

HBO’s Lovecraft Country Is a Stunning Dissection of America’s Racist History—and an ...

Fri, 07 Aug 2020 18:35:22 GMT

The three travelers start running for their lives long before the monsters appear to chase them. Having recently survived a shotgun-wielding militiaman in a pickup truck, they were racing to reach the county line before sunset with a bloodthirsty cop on their tail, eager to pounce if they didn’t make it. But seconds after crossing the border, with no time to spare, they roll up to a roadblock: more police, more squad cars, more guns. A failed escape into the woods leaves them on the ground with barrels aimed at their backs. That’s when, in a blur of motion, an enormous, lizard-like creature leaps out of the darkness and chows down on one of their captors.

These motorists aren’t criminals or fugitives—they are a young, Black Korean War veteran named Atticus (The Last Black Man in San Francisco star Jonathan Majors), his childhood friend Letitia (Jurnee Smollett) and his uncle George (Courtney B. Vance), on the last leg of a cross-country roadtrip in the 1950s. And the sudden intrusion of the supernatural into America’s regularly scheduled racism both heightens the absurdity of humans inciting violence over skin color and puts the police in the same predicament as the innocent people they’ve been hunting for sport. Of course, the travelers are better equipped to survive the monsters; they have been defending themselves all their lives from the monster that is white supremacy.

Such is the nightmare logic of Lovecraft Country, a smart, gripping and wonderfully wild 10-episode drama that debuts Sunday, Aug. 16 on HBO. Adapted by showrunner Misha Green from Matt Ruff’s 2016 novel, it shares her fellow executive producer Jordan Peele’s fascination with examining race, and Blackness in particular, through the lens of horror. But it is specifically concerned with how the values of influential storytellers like H.P. Lovecraft—the father of cosmic horror and an author known for exploring the decline of civilization, the apathy of the universe and a fictionalized New England landscape nicknamed Lovecraft Country, as well as for his virulent racism—interact with the diverse world their works are released into.

Lovecraft would surely have been flummoxed to learn that Atticus is a fan of his work. In fact, Atticus’ father Montrose (the great Michael Kenneth Williams) failed in a long-ago attempt to cure the boy of his pulp-fiction habit by forcing him to memorize the writer’s heinously racist poem. So it’s ironic that Montrose’s disappearance during a trip to Massachusetts—to investigate some kind of “secret legacy” involving the ancestors of Atticus’ late mother—is what sends his son, Leti and George on a search-and-rescue mission from their Chicago home to, yes, Lovecraft Country. George, who writes guidebooks for Black motorists with his wife, brings deep knowledge of the open road and its perils. Bold, beautiful Leti is a footloose love interest with street smarts of her own. The trio is prepared for the dangers lurking in the “sundown counties” of the supposedly progressive North. It’s the monsters hiding in the forest that kick off a series of genuinely surprising, not to mention life-changing, horrors.

Elizabeth Morris/HBOCourtney B. Vance, Jonathan Majors and Jurnee Smollett in ‘Lovecraft Country’

The show’s overarching plot, like the overarching story of race in America, concerns the festering historical wounds of slavery, dramatizing how cultural memories of servitude, poverty and sexual violence continue to afflict Black families. But each episode occupies its own spectacularly bizarre corner of the horror, sci-fi and fantasy universes, with its own genre tropes and thematic resonances. One centers around a haunted mansion; another takes viewers on an underground adventure in the style of The Goonies and Indiana Jones. In the half-season sent for review, there are creepy rich people, secret societies conducting occult rituals, kids messing around with Ouija boards, some of the ickiest body horror this side of David Cronenberg.

To say that Lovecraft Country is a whole lot of show would be an understatement. Blood and jump-scares aside, the scripts pack in transcendent musical numbers, parties teeming with guests, sex both tender and terrifying, cinematic car chases that hit the spot in a summer without blockbusters. Green—whose great, prematurely canceled WGN America series Underground infused heart-pounding action sequences and contemporary pop and hip-hop into a period drama that followed slaves escaping from a Southern plantation—doesn’t discriminate between high and low culture. The soundtrack includes Rihanna’s scathing “Bitch Better Have My Money,” Gil Scott-Heron’s spoken-word classic “Whitey on the Moon” and a raucous performance of “Whole Lotta Shakin’ Goin’ On” by Leti and her sister Ruby (standout Wunmi Mosaku). There are audio snippets from the writings of James Baldwin and Ntozake Shange. Books fill the frame: Dracula, The Count of Monte Cristo, Lovecraft’s short-story collection The Outsider and Others.

Some messiness comes with the territory, though, unlike most seasons of Ryan Murphy’s American Horror Story, Green rarely lets the spectacle of it all overshadow her insights. Whether you think of it as postmodern or simply maximalist, the show’s cultural collage serves the purpose of forging connections between eras, identities and artists. (A masterly fifth episode directed by Cheryl Dunye, the filmmaker behind ’90s indie classic The Watermelon Woman, underscores its celebration of pioneering Black creators.) Beyond explicit references, Green is in conversation with many of the most important recent works of fiction on Blackness in America: Peele’s Get Out, Brit Bennett’s The Vanishing Half, the filmography of Ava DuVernay, the novels of Colson Whitehead. It’s bound to earn the most comparisons to HBO’s similarly dense, unpredictable 2019 hit Watchmen, which in many ways did for the superhero genre what Lovecraft Country does for horror and sci-fi. Both shows wrestle with how pop culture shapes our understanding of race—and are well aware that painful subjects don’t preclude enjoyable stories.

“Stories are like people,” Atticus tells a new acquaintance in the premiere. They may not be perfect, he says, but “you just try and cherish them, overlook their flaws.” He’s defending his enjoyment of Edgar Rice Burroughs’ A Princess of Mars, whose hero is a Confederate Civil War vet. “Yeah, but the flaws are still there,” she replies. As in real life, this familiar conversation solves nothing. But thankfully, Lovecraft Country is not a show about problematic faves. It’s a show that demonstrates how a society’s fears and prejudices get tangled up in the stories it tells. And it reminds us that the people a culture demonizes—those who spend their lives on the run from monsters hidden in plain sight—have more reason to be afraid than anyone.

Watch an Exclusive Clip From a New Documentary About Maria Ressa’s Fight for Press Freedom in ...

Fri, 07 Aug 2020 12:00:24 GMT

“First they came for the journalists. We don’t know what happened after that,” says journalist Maria Ressa, quoting a solemn line from a Philippine newspaper, inspired by Martin Niemöller’s postwar poem “First They Came.” The striking quote comes during a scene from the new documentary A Thousand Cuts, out Aug. 7, which highlights attacks on press freedom and democracy in the Philippines and draws parallels with other parts of the world.

As the chief executive officer and co-founder of the Philippine news website Rappler, Ressa knows firsthand the risks that journalists in the country are facing. Her conviction on dubious charges of cyber-libel in June marked the latest in a series of legal attacks against her and Rappler. The site has drawn attention for publishing stories critical of Philippine President Rodrigo Duterte, and in particular his war on drugs, which Human Rights Watch reports has led to the deaths of more than 12,000 Filipinos. “It’s so dangerous to be a journalist right now,” Ressa told TIME after her conviction. “But the mission is more important than ever. We have to stand up for it or we will lose so much.”

Directed by Ramona S. Diaz and filmed during 2018 and 2019, A Thousand Cuts follows Ressa as she and her colleagues persist in holding the regime to account, despite continued attacks and harassment from trolls on social media, in real life and by the president himself. In the the PBS-Frontline documentary, Ressa, a TIME Person of the Year in 2018 and a TIME 100 honoree, explains how quickly disinformation ripples throughout the country’s social media networks, and how she and her colleagues are targeted with dangerous accusations of lying as well as death threats.

In the exclusive clip above, several people behind troll accounts targeting Ressa and Rappler go to the news outlet’s offices in person, live-streaming from their location and amplifying their hateful messages on social media.

“We have to realize that something horrific has already happened, and we are at this existential moment where, if nothing significant is done, journalism is only the first part. Journalism and democracy as we know it, is dead,” Ressa tells an audience at an event in Washington D.C. in the documentary. On her return back to Manila’s airport, she is arrested on fraud charges and flanked by police officers. “This is not the Philippines I knew,” she later says.

A Thousand Cuts also follows figures on the other side of the divide, including a pop star-turned-government secretary known as “the Philippines’ Queen of Fake News,” and an unrepentant politician intent on his public execution campaign targeting drug addicts. But it is Ressa who captures most of the attention. “What do you do when the president lies,” she asks, “then it’s repeated a million times so people have no idea what the truth is?” Diaz shows viewers why the journalist, despised by many in her country for allegedly “betraying” the Philippines with Rappler’s critical coverage, is so revered across the globe—a living symbol of holding truth to power.

The Tuscan Landscape Deserves Top Billing in Liam Neeson Father-Son Drama Made in Italy

Fri, 07 Aug 2020 11:30:39 GMT

Some movies can get away with just being a scenery sandwich, a few fat slabs of gorgeous vistas with a sliver of plot slipped in between. Made in Italy is that kind of movie. Liam Neeson plays Robert, a crabby, once-acclaimed painter who has been unable to produce since the death of his wife in an accident, years ago. He has a grown son, Jack (Micheál Richardson, Neeson’s son in real life), who also finds himself stuck, but in a different way: He’s been making his living running an art gallery owned by his wife’s family; now, the wife is requesting a divorce and putting the gallery up for sale at an astronomical price. Jack’s desperate solution is to persuade his father to sell the villa in Tuscany that the two just happen to own. They haven’t even been there in 20 years, since Jack’s mother died. The thinking, presumably, is: Who’s going to miss that old pile of bricks?

Stop right here if you’re expecting realism: Very few people on the planet have languishing Tuscan villas that they can sell for quick cash. Plus, Jack’s unlikability is a turnoff from the start—he’s all too good at bossing his father around, and you wonder why dad owes him the favor of relinquishing a piece of dually owned property just so he can hang onto his fancy job. But remember—we’re here for the scenery! That’s the chief draw of Made in Italy. That, and Lindsay Duncan.

IFC FilmsLiam Neeson and Lindsay Duncan in ‘Made in Italy’

Duncan, largely a stage actor, is wonderful anytime she shows up in film (as in Birdman, where she played the theater critic responsible, supposedly, for ruining actors’ lives). Here she plays Kate, the real estate agent who shows up to help Robert and Jack sell the house, which is no easy task: It’s a wreck, the main room cluttered by a tangle of dusty, rusted junk, with a godawful red horror of a painting covering one wall. (Robert, grief-stricken, slapped the paint on there just after his wife’s death.) Duncan sweeps in, in her sensible, floaty cotton dresses, and purses her lips in disapproval. At last, a human being with common sense. It is she who persuades Robert that he needs to spruce up the joint before it can possibly be sold. She radiates prickly intelligence, and is just radiant in general.

There’s another subplot involving a kind, beautiful divorced restaurant owner (Valeria Billelo’s Natalia) whom Jack inexplicably charms with his sour attitude. Neeson is OK here, in a gruff, whiskery way. The chief plot mechanism is that Robert and Jack have just never dealt properly with their grief; they must come clean with their feelings before they can move on. Eventually, it happens. But remember—we’re here for the scenery! Written and directed by James D’Arcy, who has worked mostly as an actor (this is his directorial debut) and shot by cinematographer Mike Eley, Made in Italy treats us to views of rolling, verdant hills and many, many delightfully pointy cypress trees. Sunlight hits the bricks of the decrepit villa just so—forget cleaning it up, almost anybody would be ready to move right in. Visually, Made in Italy is reminiscent of another escape-to-Italy romance, Audrey Wells’ 2003 Under the Tuscan Sun, starring Diane Lane (and also featuring Duncan). As these types of fantasies go, that movie was as satisfying as a deep sigh. Made in Italy is less so. But remember—we came for the scenery! And on that score, Made in Italy is a low-cost souvenir of the Tuscan-villa dream so many of us harbor, without the headaches of rewiring old electrical systems or fixing broken shutters.

She Dies Tomorrow Is a Horror-Comedy for Our Current Age of Anxiety

Fri, 07 Aug 2020 11:00:19 GMT

If writer-director Amy Seimetz’s indie thriller She Dies Tomorrow were a song rather than a movie, it would be the anthem for our current age of anxiety, an artfully atonal ode to the eternal question, Am I imagining this, or is it really happening? Amy (Kate Lyn Sheil) is settling into the house she’s just bought when she suffers what appears to be a panic attack. She calls a close friend, Jane (Jane Adams), begging her to come over. Her voice is so weak, she can barely make herself heard, though it’s also unclear whether she’s speaking at all—it’s as if all communication has broken down cosmically as well as digitally.

When Jane shows up, Amy outlines the cause of her anguish: she’s convinced she’s going to die the next day. Jane reassures her that this cannot possibly be true—only to return home and find herself seized by the certainty that she too is destined to die on the morrow. Jane confesses her anxiety to others (her brother, Chris Messina; a doctor, Josh Lucas), who try to calm her, until panic seizes them as well. It appears that Amy is an unwitting superspreader, a Jenny Appleseed sowing debilitating fears of mortality from one person to the next.

If all of that sounds vaguely comical and unsettling, that’s the point: the movie’s oblique, jittery rhythms are designed to make us feel a little crazy too, before we come to our senses and laugh at ourselves. Seimetz has been working in film and television for years as an actor, writer, director and producer; she has appeared in films like Pet Sematary, and she directed the 2012 thriller Sun Don’t Shine. She’ll try her hand, fearlessly, at anything. Perched at the restless midpoint of psychological and super-natural horror, She Dies Tomorrow is dotted with experimental flourishes: the screen is occasionally smeared with what looks like blood, though it might be an ecto-plasmic communiqué from another world. And there’s no tidy resolution—She Dies Tomorrow leaves a trail of jagged question marks in its wake.

But that, too, appears to be part of its design. In all likelihood, most of us will wake up tomorrow and manage to survive the day. But Seimetz’s movie plants that one unruly seed of doubt: you just never know.

How Music Could Become a Crucial Part of Your Sleep Hygiene

Thu, 06 Aug 2020 19:04:42 GMT

In the midst of a pandemic, sleep has never been more important—or more elusive. Studies have shown that a full night’s sleep is one of the best defenses in protecting your immune system. But since the spread of COVID-19 began, people around the world are going to bed later and sleeping worse; tales of terrifying and vivid dreams have flooded social media.

To combat sleeplessness, people are turning to all sorts of techniques, including anti-insomnia medication, aromatherapies, electronic curfews, sleep coaches and meditation. But another unlikely sedative has also seen a spike in usage around bedtime: music. While sleep music used to be confined to the fringes of culture—whether at avant-garde all-night concerts or New Age meditation sessions—the field has crept into the mainstream over the past decade. Ambient artists are collaborating with music therapists; apps are churning out hours of new content; sleep streams have surged in popularity on YouTube and Spotify.

And since the impacts of the coronavirus have upped the anxiety of daily life, artists’ streams and wellness app downloads have soared, forming bedtime habits that could prove lasting. At the same time, scientists are diving deeper: in September 2019, the National Institute of Health awarded $20 million to research projects around music therapy and neuroscience. As the field expands, experts imagine a world in which scientifically-designed albums could be just as effective and commonly used as sleeping pills.

Enhancing the edges of sleep

Sleep and music have been intertwined for centuries: a creation myth of Bach’s Goldberg Variations involves a sleepless Count. More recently, a Western fascination with sleep music reemerged in the ’60s, when experimental minimalist composers like John Cage, Terry Riley and members of the Fluxus collective began staging all-night concerts. Riley was inspired by Eastern mysticism and all-night Indian classical music events, and aimed to provoke rather than soothe: “It felt like a great alternative to the ordinary concert scene,” he said in a 1995 interview.

One of the acolytes of this scene was Robert Rich, who, as a Stanford student in 1982, staged his first “sleep concert” to about 15 dozers. His audience settled into their sleeping bags in a dorm lounge while Rich created drones with a tape echo, a digital delay and a spring reverb for 9 hours. “I was fascinated by the idea of using music for trance-inducing purposes,” he tells TIME. “The intention was not to make music to sleep more deeply, but to enhance the edges of sleep and explore one’s consciousness.”

William Basinski likewise approached sleep music through the lens of minimalist experimentation. At the time, Basinski was toying with generative music and feedback loops—music that unfolded slowly over hours. Initially, there was little interest in his work beyond his Brooklyn bubble. “I would have loved if people got more what I was doing—but it took quite a while,” he says. “But it allowed me to fall in and out of time—to get some peace, daydream.”

While Rich, Basinski and others pushed the bounds of convention, others entered the sleep music space for more practical reasons. The electronic musician Tom Middleton had created lulling ambient music as a member of Global Communication and and other bands in the ’90s, but had never seriously considered the connection between sleep and music until he developed insomnia after years of touring the globe and partying all night. “My sleep was pretty messed up, and it was impacting all parts of my life,” he said. “I wanted to train as a sleep science coach to understand it better and to see if I could hack my own sleep.”

Science meets streaming

When Middleton studied sleep science and began working with neuroscientists, he found that the benefits of music on sleep weren’t just spiritual, but based on empirical evidence. Studies have found that relaxing music can have a direct effect on the parasympathetic nervous system, which helps the body relax and prepare for sleep. One trial in a Taiwan hospital found that older adults who listened to 45 minutes of relaxing music before bedtime fell asleep faster, slept longer, and were less prone to waking up during the night.

Barbara Else, a senior adviser with the American Music Therapy Association, has worked with victims of several disaster situations, including Hurricane Katrina, and seen how music can play a crucial role in quelling racing thoughts and establishing sleep routines. “We aren’t medicine or a cure, but we help progress towards a better sleep quality for people in pain or anxiety,” she says. “We can see respiration rate and pulse settle down. We can see blood pressure lower.”

Relying on similar research and working with neuroscientists at sleep labs, Middleton began devising music in which each element—harmony, rhythm, frequency, environmental noise—was chosen based on scientific underpinnings. “I like to see robust, rigorous evidence to support why I’m making a production decision,” he says. In 2018, he released Sleep Better, an eight-part suite that unfolds with lapping waves, chirping birds and sustained synthesizer chords designed to line up with your circadian rhythms and encourage deep REM sleep, which is thought to help facilitate memory consolidation. Nothing much happens over its 80-minute runtime—but then again, if you’re consciously listening the whole way through, you’re engaging with it wrong. “My album intentionally makes you ‘unlisten’ at a certain point,” Middleton says.

By the time Middleton released Sleep Better, a once-derided field was gaining legitimacy and sprawling in many directions. In the experimental wing, Basinski and Rich were suddenly being asked to perform sleep concerts for thousands of horizontal fans at major festivals like Le Guess Who in the Netherlands and Moogfest in North Carolina. In an era of experiential pop-ups and events, consumers were embracing the opportunity to pay $250 per ticket for the privilege of falling asleep to Max Richter’s Sleep.

The rise of streaming also had an outsize impact. While many experimental artists have been hurt by streaming’s miniscule royalties, new digital platforms also provided easier and cheaper access to lengthy musical works. Robert Rich’s seven-hour Somnium, for example, had originally been released on DVD, the only format that could support it in 2001; now, he could sell it easily as a download on Bandcamp. Another one of his most peaceful albums, Nest, unexpectedly began racking up millions of plays on Spotify. “That was quite a surprise,” he said.

Other sleep musicians began experiencing career transformations. In the mid-’00s, Chuck Wild, who performs as Liquid Mind, started uploading his relaxation music onto Pandora and YouTube to modest returns. But his streaming numbers skyrocketed once streaming took hold around 2014. “I started looking at the numbers and my income, and went, “Holy cow, this is a way to fulfill my dream,” Wild says. Since then, he has released albums titled Deep Sleep, Peace and Mindfulness that have found success online.

The rise of wellness

As access to sleep music increased, so did awareness, thanks in part to a larger cultural shift around the ideas of “wellness” and mental health. Meditation and mindfulness were going mainstream in Western society, and entrepreneurs responded accordingly, flooding the market with new startups that sought to alleviate rising levels of anxiety. One of those, Calm, was named Apple’s 2017 app of the year, and was valued at $250 million.

Last October, the company sensed a swelling interest in sleep music and hired its first Head of Music, Courtney Phillips. Phillips, who would often fall asleep to Enya as a child, saw the creation of her role as a natural extension of a larger normalization around sleep music. “People used to hear ‘New Age’ and think of a ‘woo woo’ vibe—and imagine crystals and linen,” she says. “Now it’s just music to help you relax.”

Unsurprisingly, Spotify, the leader of the streaming world, has been at the forefront of this movement. On its genres page, an entire vertical for “sleep” is carved out alongside “hip-hop” and “rock.” There are 42 official playlists in it, three of which—Sleep, Deep Sleep and Peaceful Piano—have more than a million followers.

Curiously, many of the artists on these prominent playlists are strangely shadowy: they have only a handful of songs uploaded, and little-to-no digital presence outside their Spotify pages. Over the last few years, several news outlets have written investigations into these so-called “fake artists” and the possible reasons that Spotify would promote them as opposed to more established ones. (Spotify declined to comment for this story.)

Whatever their reasons, this development—of a multibillion-dollar app establishing its own stream of sleep content and largely bypassing the form’s pioneers—is not lost on those who have spent decades in the space. “It’s troubling to me because it can be difficult to make a living as a musician,” Wild says.

“I think that it’s a great shame,” Middleton says. “They’re missing an opportunity to create really effective content based on science.”

Easing coronavirus anxieties

While many experts warned that the lack of sleep in America was a public health crisis several years ago, the pandemic has only exacerbated matters. And as prescriptions for anti-anxiety medication and insomnia aids have spiked over the last few months, so has the demand for sleep music. A representative for YouTube said searches for “Sleep Sound,” “Nature Sound,” “nighttime routine,” and “sleep hack video” all increased starting at the end of March. Calm has seen their daily downloads double. Endel, a platform that creates sound environments using artificial intelligence, says that their app installs have increased by more than 80%.

William Basinski’s life was thrown into disarray by the pandemic: his world tour was cancelled, erasing most of his potential earnings for the year. But on streaming services, his royalties doubled from March to April, which he credits to people looking to assuage their anxiety. “Most people know that streaming isn’t that great for most underground musicians,” he says. “But I have to say, I’ve been pleasantly surprised by the digital royalties.”

Earlier this year, Robert Rich was working on an album with dark elements, but changed course when he started getting inundated by requests from longtime listeners. “I was getting requests for music that was more comfortable. I set down the album I was halfway through and sat down with the intention of making something very calm,” he said. He released a serene album, Offering to the Morning Fog, in May as a name-your-price download. “There could not be a better antidote to COVID-19 than this blissful, serene soundscape,” one commenter wrote on Bandcamp.

Going forward, the science around sleep music will continue to broaden and deepen, leading to questions around whether music could rival the effectiveness of medicine. “A sleeping pill is a sedative hypnotic that influences our brain. Can we use sound to rewire the brain and make us feel drowsy? Yes,” Tom Middleton says. “The main challenge is if we can keep people in the various states of sleep, such as restorative delta wave sleep.”

But while some musicians are embracing scientific methods and collaborating with apps, others are worried the space could be commodified to the point where it’s unrecognizable. Already, you can go on YouTube and find dozens of livestreams with bland titles optimized for search results.

Given that creators like Rich and Basinski arose out of experimental fields in the first place, they’re not overly concerned about what’s happening in the mainstream. Rich says he has no intention of making albums like the phlegmatic Offering to the Morning Fog for the rest of his career, even if it might be the most profitable path. “We need to express the full dynamic range of light and dark,” he says. “Just creating relaxing pablum is probably worse than doing nothing right now.” But regardless of what direction Rich takes his career, Offering to the Morning Fog will always be available to lull you to sleep.

Keedron Bryant’s Anthem for Justice Has Led to a ‘Dream Come True’

Thu, 06 Aug 2020 18:36:48 GMT

When 12-year-old Keedron Bryant shared an Instagram video in late May, he wasn’t expecting viral fame and a record deal to come his way. Bryant, who has been singing since he was just 5 or 6 years old in children’s choir, had regularly posted a cappella singing videos to his social media.

But this time, the song — an original composition called “I Don’t Wanna Live,” written by his mother Johnetta Bryant — struck a special chord.

On the heels of the murder of George Floyd, Bryant’s protest anthem came across as both a gospel plea and a unifying message. “Me and my sister and my mom, we watched the Mr. George Floyd killing video. That was really sad and heartbreaking,” Bryant told TIME. “Right after that, my mom gave me the lyrics to ‘I Just Wanna Live.’ I prayed over the lyrics and I meditated over the lyrics and I went back downstairs and I said, ‘I’m ready to record.’ And we recorded it.”

“The message is that Black people just want to live on this earth… and not have fear in our minds that something bad is going to happen to us,” he added.

Notable figures like Barack Obama, Janet Jackson and LeBron James discovered and shared the video. Soon after, Bryant signed a record deal. His song now plays on the radio and has received multiple remixes, including a fresh version out in late July featuring Andra Day, Lucky Daye and IDK.

Bryant said he knew he wanted to pursue singing professionally when he was just seven years old. “Now, it’s just a dream come true,” he added. Now all of 13 years old, he is already putting the finishing touches on a new EP and working on his first album.

Singer-Songwriter Lauv on Turning to Music and Coping in Quarantine

Thu, 06 Aug 2020 18:12:39 GMT

Lauv released his debut album, How I’m Feeling, on March 6. Just a few weeks later, the world began to shut down due to the coronavirus pandemic. Lauv is a singer-songwriter whose intimate, downtempo pop has made him a go-to artist on streaming platforms and as a collaborator for artists like Troye Sivan, BTS and Ellie Goulding. He makes the type of music that dwells on loneliness and revels in melancholy.

In quarantine, with these emotions particularly front and center, music has played a special role—both for artists and for fans who have sought out solace from the voices of their favorites.

“Honestly, I’m so, so, so thankful I have music,” Lauv said during a TIME 100 Talks discussion. “I would be going totally insane without it. It’s been my way to escape a little bit, because obviously it’s a really hard time and it’s really easy to get caught up in how scary it is. I’m just lucky I have a place to go and dive through my feelings.”

Lauv has been open about his own struggles with anxiety and depression, too. “It wasn’t until I really experienced my own extreme low that I realized how important it was to me to start to become more involved,” he said. As a result, he has hosted conversations with fellow artists and mental health professionals and launched the Blue Boy Foundation to offer fans outlets and resources to address their challenges.

“It’s so important for people to be there for each other and open, because that’s what inspired me to get help,” he said. In quarantine, he said he’d turned especially to meditation as a “coping tool.”

With the live music industry remaining at a standstill, there’s only so much a performing artist can do; Lauv has experimented with livestreams and home concerts, but he still misses the “magic” of a live show. “I’m excited that people are innovating, creating online virtual experiences,” he said, but “there’s no experience like playing in a room.” For now, he’s mostly just looking forward to getting back to tour—as soon as it’s safe.

‘I Want to Do What I Can.’ Lili Reinhart on Recognizing Privilege and Making Change

Thu, 06 Aug 2020 18:06:32 GMT

Lili Reinhart isn’t just Betty Cooper from Riverdale—although that role on the CW hit, now entering its fifth season, made her a household name for a generation of fans. Reinhart, who also appeared in 2019’s Hustlers, is ready to make a broader mark in the entertainment world through work as a producer and an author. But during her pandemic-related downtime, Reinhart turned to her public platforms to focus on something else: elevating Black voices and educating herself.

“If you haven’t learned a lot during this time, then to be honest you’re being quite ignorant,” she told TIME during a TIME 100 Talks conversation. “I want to do what I can in my power… to make this industry more racially diverse.”

Reinhart has been hosting regular Instagram conversations with Black activists and creators, broadcast to her 24 million followers. “It was right after we did the collective blackout, everyone posted a black picture in support of BLM — and I was sitting there thinking, what is this actually doing?” she explained. “I’m very cognizant of this movement and also of the part that I’ve played, as a white woman, and not understanding my privilege,” she said.

Reinhart will soon be returning to the Riverdale set, where the complications of COVID-19 mean there will be necessary safety and health precautions. “I hope we can still find joy in what we’re doing,” she said. “I’m sure we will — just with masks on our faces, basically.”

But in between filming seasons, she also produced and starred in the upcoming Chemical Hearts, out Aug. 21. Her choice to get involved behind-the-scenes comes, she said, from wanting to have more control over the decision-making: “As an actor, you’re not really making any executive decisions,” she said. “That’s something that I’ve always really wanted to do. I’ve always put my opinion out there, whether it’s wanted or not.” She hopes to continue producing, and is eager to try to diversify the stories Hollywood tells and not look at Black characters as “stereotypes.”

And she’s also finding new ways to explore her creative side. The latest: a book of poetry, Swimming Lessons, which will be released in September. “I wanted to bring comfort to people who were looking for it,” she said of her writing. “I know as a young girl I started reading poetry because I felt lost, I felt depressed and misunderstood and like I couldn’t really talk to anyone about it.” And while sharing this side of her is “nerve-wracking,” she said, it’s also a new way for her to connect with the fans who turn to her.

Author Angie Thomas on How Books Are Transforming the Next Generation: ‘They’re Realizing ...

Thu, 06 Aug 2020 17:51:04 GMT

When the killing of George Floyd ignited outrage across the country, author Angie Thomas joined the masses protesting police brutality and racial injustice on the streets of her hometown of Jackson, Miss. Amid fervent chants of “Black Lives Matter” and clenched fists raised in solidarity, Thomas said she saw something that nearly brought her to tears.

“When I got there, one of the first things I saw were young people with signs that resembled my book cover,” Thomas told TIME’s Books Editor Lucy Feldman for a TIME100 Talks discussion.

Thomas’ 2017 debut book features an illustration of a Black girl with curly hair and Jordans, the protagonist, Starr Carter, holding a protest sign emblazoned with the title of the book: The Hate U Give. Her young readers arrived at the Mississippi demonstration with protest signs replacing the book title with their own messages.

“One thing we’re seeing right now is [young people] realizing that power,” Thomas said. “I’m honored to know that I can be a microphone for them and amplify them even louder.”

Amid the current reckoning on systemic racism and inequality in society, anti-racist literature has been flying off (virtual) shelves and topping New York Times Best Seller list. While many believe that reading Black stories and perspectives is one critical step to confronting systemic racism, Thomas says the “power of books” surpasses the current social upheaval.

She believes literature can empower the next generation of leaders.

“I believe in the power of books and how they shape young people for the future,” Thomas declared. “I’m very hopeful that we’re giving them better tools so that they could be better leaders than any of us ever imagined.”

The 31-year-old author has witnessed the impact of books firsthand with her own novel The Hate U Give, which topped The New York Times young adult best-seller list for weeks and was adapted into a film starring Amandla Stenberg.

In the Black Lives Matter-inspired story, Starr Carter attempts to navigate a delicate social balance between the Black community where she grew up and her new private school with a mostly white, affluent student body. However, after an encounter with the police ends with her childhood friend killed, Starr must learn to use her voice to seek justice.

The key to equipping young audiences lies in diverse storytelling, according to Thomas. Through her own fictional characters, the YA novelist has attempted to create “mirrors, windows and sliding glass doors” so that young people can see themselves—or see people unlike themselves—to build empathy.

Given the predominantly white Western canon taught in public schools and higher education, it’s not hard to see why compassion appears to be lacking in the generations past and present, Thomas noted.

“If some of our current political leaders read books about young people who were unlike them when they were kids, maybe we wouldn’t have to say, ‘Black Lives Matter,’” Thomas said.

Thomas attempted to help build compassion for Black lives not only with Starr but with the beloved character Maverick — Starr’s doting father.

Maverick’s journey from a life on the streets to a family man is one that enamored many of her readers. Now, it’s the subject of her upcoming novel “Concrete Rose.”

The Mississippi native believes much of her audience resonated with the character because he “represents the [Black men] who are right around us every single day.”

“I see Maverick as a symbol for most Black men and George Floyd,” Thomas said. “For me, Maverick represents so many of the young men we’ve lost in this in this Black Lives Matter movement.”

Three years after its release, The Hate U Give continues to echo the reality of many Black Americans, whose loved ones are disproportionately threatened and killed by police. Thomas only hopes that those echoes will continue to have seismic waves on the young people who read her novels — and inspire them to be the change they seek.

“If my legacy is that I inspired the next generation of activists then I’m happy with that,” Thomas said. “It’s an honor.”

Migrations Is a Heartbreaking Portrait of a World at Risk of Losing Animals

Thu, 06 Aug 2020 17:28:42 GMT

In Charlotte McConaghy’s adult debut Migrations, animals are dying at an alarmingly fast rate. There are no more bears in the north or reptiles in the south. Big cats have disappeared. Wolves too. The novel’s quiet, bird-loving protagonist Franny Stone is specifically concerned with the Arctic tern, which has the longest migration of any animal in the world. The last flock is on its final descent, flying from the Arctic to the Antarctic, and Franny is determined to follow it.

The issue, though, is that Franny has no way of doing so—she doesn’t have a boat and has never sailed professionally. Migrations opens in Greenland, where Franny tracks down the captain of the Saghani and talks her way aboard. By chasing the terns, she argues, the crew will find the fish they desperately need to catch.

Immediately, the water is rough and the wind is freezing. Shortly into their journey, the vessel has to navigate around an iceberg, which McConaghy describes with thrilling intensity. But Franny isn’t scared—she’s ready to die on the boat if it comes to it. One of the crew members asks her why she’s so tired of living. She says to herself: “It’s not life I’m tired of, with its astonishing ocean currents and layers of ice and all the delicate feathers that make up a wing. It’s myself.”

As the Saghani continues on its dangerous trip, it becomes clear that Franny is not the person she says she is. Her passport is not her own. She’s writing letters to her husband but never sends them. The novel flips to earlier parts of Franny’s life, revealing the traumas of her past and the fierce attachment she has to the sea.

In piecing together who this mysterious protagonist really is, McConaghy creates a detailed portrait of a woman on the cusp of collapse, consumed with a world that is every bit as broken as she is. Migrations offers a grim window into a future that doesn’t feel very removed from our own, which makes Franny’s voice all the more powerful. In understanding how nature can heal us, McConaghy underlines why it urgently needs to be protected.

What Happened When a Harvard Scholar Decided the Story Was More Important Than the Truth

Thu, 06 Aug 2020 17:28:38 GMT

For a moment back in 2012, readers around the world might have thought that Jesus had had a wife. Karen King, an esteemed professor at Harvard University’s Divinity School, made headlines when she revealed what she named “The Gospel of Jesus’ Wife,” a small fragment of papyrus with eight cryptic, incomplete lines in Coptic, including: “Jesus said to them, My wife …” The journalist Ariel Sabar was on hand in Rome for her attention-grabbing announcement, which seized the media’s attention (including this magazine’s), thanks to the tantalizing possibility of an entirely different Christian history—one in which Mary Magdalene, the possible wife in question, was even more central to Jesus’ story. King’s discovery had the potential to upend a millennia-old, male-centric history.

King said at the time, “My own faith, and the faith of other Christians, is best built on good history.” But that’s not exactly what she was presenting to the world, as Sabar examines in his new book Veritas: A Harvard Professor, a Con Man and the Gospel of Jesus’s Wife. As she had done previously in her original and acclaimed work on the Gnostic Gospels, King told a brilliant alternate history, neatly packaged and ready for prime time. But there was
one problem: it wasn’t true. Even before she went public with her discovery, some scholars and papyrologists questioned the authenticity of the fragment. Then the furor died down a bit until 2014, when publication in an esteemed journal of theological history seemed to confirm that this papyrus might be real. But by 2016, thanks to Sabar’s reporting in the Atlantic and a growing list of rebuttals from Coptic experts and scientists, it was clear the fragment was nothing more than a bad forgery cobbled together from publicly available Gnostic texts with sloppy penmanship. King finally admitted that she had been duped.

Sabar revealed in his reporting that the text had originally been brought to King by Walter Fritz, a failed German student of Egyptology and director of the Stasi Museum turned Florida-based wife-swapping pornographer. The mystery of Fritz—and why King did not fully investigate the provenance of this scrap—is at the center of Veritas. It’s a story about journalism done right, about Sabar’s own capable, dogged sleuthing to get to the bottom of those famous headlines. Along the way, Sabar explores the history of alternate Christian texts, the eccentric scholars who investigate them and the internal workings of Harvard.

In our moment of truthiness, to borrow a term from Stephen Colbert, Veritas offers a vital lesson less about Christianity than about what happens when a scholar decides that the story is more important than the truth. King had spent her career presenting an important scholarly narrative about the need to re-evaluate and reinterpret the canonical story of Christianity, to allow for women to play a central role and to question some of the central tenets of how established churches told the world’s most famous story. But in Sabar’s convincing and damning assessment, when it came to Jesus’ wife, she bypassed the facts, ignored peers who warned her something was amiss and failed to thoroughly interrogate how Fritz came to possess this stunning artifact.

One can imagine the appeal of the moment: the chance to inspire a frank discussion about who gets to be at the center of the story of Christian truth. By the end of Veritas, the reader is left wishing King had stuck to her own vision of “good history” and asked the hard questions before she went public. Instead, she let a papyrus scrap obscure the larger point she had been making for decades.

Seth Rogen, an Absurd Premise and a Vatful of Brine Make for a Delightful American Pickle

Thu, 06 Aug 2020 11:00:35 GMT

Even as our political landscape has become overloaded with ridiculously wrongheaded declarations, pronouncements so outrageous we can hardly believe our ears, comic absurdity in the movies—dumb, or even smart, stuff that just makes you laugh—feels more precious than ever. We’ve all become worried Victorian orphans facing our glum future. RIP delight; it was nice while it lasted.

But wait! Seth Rogen as an early 20th century pickle-company grunt who falls into a vat of brine and emerges, perfectly preserved, in modern-day Brooklyn? Did someone actually conceive that as a movie idea—let alone get the thing made? The good news for you and for me, my fellow wan Victorian orphans, is that An American Pickle is a real movie, and it’s delightful. Sometimes a logically indefensible premise is the only thing that makes life seem logical.

Rogen plays a dual role here: He is, first, Herschel Greenbaum, a native of the Eastern European region of Schlupsk, a land of mud and hardship. We first meet Herschel in 1919, as he woos a local girl, Sarah (Sarah Schnook). “She has all her teeth, top and bottom,” he notes approvingly. Both have tragic backgrounds, alluded to in dashes of black humor—“Her parents were murdered by Cossacks, my parents were murdered by Cossacks!”—and when yet more violence strikes their village, they set out for America, eager to start a family that will stretch forth through generations.

Then Herschel falls into that vat. He awakens, still wearing his rumpled cap and sporting his scraggly beard, to learn that his beloved wife is long dead; his feelings of displacement stir anger in his heart. Then he learns he has one living relative, a great-grandson, Ben Greenbaum (Rogen again). Ben whisks Herschel to his nerd–bachelor Brooklyn apartment, introducing him to the wonders of Alexa and the miracle of SodaStream (seltzer was an unaffordable luxury in the old country), as well as teaching him the new dance steps, though Herschel has retained some pretty fly “Fiddler on the Roof” moves.

This is the assertively heartwarming part of An American Pickle. But not to worry, it doesn’t last long. Herschel is Ben’s only connection to family: Ben’s father, Herschel’s grandson, has died in a car crash, as has Ben’s mother. But before long, Herschel and Ben—a failed app developer who also, it appears, harbors anger in his heart—have a falling-out. Herschel strikes out on his own and becomes a pickle-cart mogul. Ben, jealous and spiteful, tries to sabotage him. It becomes clear that neither of these guys is particularly nice, and certainly not to each other. Yet their faults unite them, and their stumbling odyssey back toward one another is what gives An American Pickle its spiky warmth.

Directed by Brandon Trost and adapted by Simon Rich from his own novella, “Sell Out,” An American Pickle has an acidic zing that neutralizes any sentimentality. Rogen has a great feel for Yiddish humor, for its lilting rhythms and its joy, but also for its bleakness. (When Herschel learns that Ben has lost his parents, he says, with genuine compassion, “I’m very sorry,” before asking, “Murder, or regular?”) But Rogen can carry the movie’s more serious threads too: while Ben claims that he’s not religious, he comes to understand that even among the non-observant, religion can be the thread that connects families through centuries. Rogen, Trost and Rich have a sense of how ridiculous, and sometimes punishing, life can seem, in 1919 or in 2020. Yet even without the advantage of being preserved in brine, we get through the madness. L’chaim.

Disney Wants You to Pay $30 to Watch Mulan From Home. ...

Wed, 05 Aug 2020 21:56:57 GMT

Audiences are finally going to get to see the live-action Mulan remake. But it won’t exactly be cheap.

The film was originally scheduled to release in March but was repeatedly delayed as Disney hoped to wait out the worst of the COVID-19 crisis. Many prognosticators (including this one) assumed that Disney would never drop such a highly-anticipated, potentially lucrative release on its streaming service, Disney+. But we are living through desperate times, and it’s clear that theaters in major American markets will not be opening in any significant way in the coming months.

So now Disney has become the first studio to release a truly massive film originally set for theaters onto a streaming platform. Families will need to have a Disney+ subscription ($6.99 per month) and pay $29.99 on top of that to watch the movie when it drops on Sept. 4. The film will debut in theaters outside of the U.S. in countries where cinemas are open, including China.

In the past several months, some studios have abandoned plans for a theatrical rollout and put lower-budget films like King of Staten Island (which cost $20 million) and Trolls: World Tour (which cost a still significant $90 million) on streaming services for $20. For many, $30 sounds relatively steep in comparison. But Mulan cost $200 million to make and was likely to be one of the biggest grossers of 2020.

Disney CEO Bob Chapek said on an earnings call Tuesday that Disney is “looking at Mulan as a one-off,” not a new business model. But if the pandemic wears on and theaters remain closed, it’s hard to imagine studios holding onto films indefinitely. At some point, they will need an income stream, and Disney has now set the possible price for movies like No Time to Die and Wonder Woman 1984, should their studios decide on a streaming release. That’s bad news for movie theaters who are already in dire straits financially.

Here’s how to make sense of the Mulan news, and what it could mean for the future of movies.

$30 sounds outrageous. But the math makes sense

Disney lou Yifei in Mulan

Doing some back-of-the-napkin math, that hefty price tag is actually pretty reasonable.

The average cost for a single movie ticket in America is $9.26—and that’s before parking and popcorn. Charging $30 for a family of four to watch a new big-budget film an unlimited number of times from the comfort of their own home is, relatively speaking, a deal.

And then there’s Disney’s own internal calculus. Mulan reportedly cost about $200 million to make. A recent not-very-scientific but still helpful Variety poll asked Twitter users how many people would actually pay $30 for the live-action Mulan movie on top of their Disney+ subscription. Only 14.7% answered yes.

That doesn’t sound like a lot of people. But let’s say that about 15% of Dinsey+’s 60 million subscribers pay $30 each to watch Mulan. Disney grosses about $270 million from those purchases alone. Add to that theater ticket sales in countries where movie theaters are actually open. That’s not exactly an Avengers: Endgame-level victory for Disney, but the studio will almost certainly recoup on its investment at a time when most studios are bleeding money.

Disney could really use that win right now. The announcement about Mulan’s Disney+ debut largely overshadowed the other bombshell piece of news from Disney’s investor call: The company’s lucrative parks division has taken a $3.5 billion hit since the pandemic began. Overall, revenue at Disney fell over 40% in the third quarter.

And the future does not look bright: Disney’s theme parks—their big moneymaker—are either closed or operating at an extremely limited capacity. It’s not clear when the parks can safely welcome massive crowds again. They need to find a shorter-term revenue stream somewhere.

This could be a test balloon for future blockbuster streaming releases

Pixar Trailer for Pixar’s Soul

Studios like Disney depend heavily on the theatrical experience. Their franchise films, from Avengers to Star Wars, are expensive spectacles designed to be seen on the big screen opening weekend, lest you overhear a spoiler in the office Monday morning or run across one on social media. Offering their most expensive movies on streaming services would undercut the very nature of an event film.

Right now studios like Disney want to communicate to audiences that movies like Mulan have value—more value than a Netflix movie. It’s unclear whether consumers will buy that argument. It reportedly cost $200 million to produce Mulan. Michael Bay’s Six Underground reportedly cost $150 million, but the action movie was included with the price of a Netflix subscription. Netflix has announced even bigger-budget movies for the future, including an action flick starring Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson and a James Bond-esque franchise starring Chris Evans and Ryan Gosling from the directors of Avengers: Endgame.

Disney would argue that it creates, on average, better products than streaming services like Netflix, regardless of budget. But is the quality of Mulan so much better than the quality of Six Underground that it’s worth paying significantly more to see it? Consumers will have to take a chance to find out.

It’s unlikely that Disney built the module that would allow users to pay for a movie within the Disney+ app for Mulan alone. It’s possible that films like Black Widow and Soul, which were supposed to debut in theaters this year, could see a similar rollout on the streaming platform.

Other studios may follow Disney’s lead. At the beginning of the pandemic, it seemed ludicrous that movies like Wonder Woman 1984, No Time to Die or Dune might go straight to a streamer or VOD. But there’s also no obvious end-date to theater closures in the United States. Tenet, which Hollywood had pinned its hopes on being the first movie to reopen American theaters, will now release overseas in September and arrive in a limited capacity in the U.S. at the relatively small number of drive-in theaters that are currently serving small audiences. That doesn’t exactly paint a bright picture for the near-term future of the American theatergoing experience. We may end up watching some of these movies from our couches, and the cost will likely be determined by Mulan’s success.

It’s bad news for movie theaters

Andrew Harrer—Bloomberg via Getty Images. A hand-written letter by a Movie-Goer hangs on the window of an AMC Entertainment Holdings Inc. movie theater in Arlington, Virginia, U.S., on Monday, June 8, 2020.

Disney’s decision to release Mulan on VOD at all is a major blow to movie theaters who were looking forward to selling tickets to that film in order to stay afloat, whether that meant selling relatively few seats in 2020 or a massive hit in 2021. “Every exhibitor I have contact with feels like this is a sucker punch to the gut,” Doug Stone, president of Box Office Analyst, told CNBC.

The Mulan news comes on the heels of the announcement that Universal and AMC came to a deal last week that will allow Universal to move their movies to VOD 17 days after they premiere in theaters, a much shorter timespan than the previously agreed-upon 75 to 90 days. The sooner movies end up on streamers, the less incentive there will be for audiences to leave their houses, even once the pandemic ends. Movie theaters have been losing major ground during the pandemic—and they just lost even more.

FBI Raids YouTube Star Jake Paul’s Mansion

Wed, 05 Aug 2020 21:37:05 GMT

(LOS ANGELES) — FBI agents including a SWAT team served a search warrant at the home of YouTube star Jake Paul on Wednesday.

The FBI executed the search warrant starting at 6 a.m. at the Calabasas, California mansion in connection with an ongoing investigation, FBI spokeswoman Laura Eimiller said in a statement.

A judge has sealed the search-warrant affidavit and Eimiller said she could not reveal the nature of the investigation or the person it was served on.

The City of Calabasas said in a statement on its social media pages that it was Paul’s home that was being raided by the FBI, which was using the city hall parking lot as a staging area.

Video from local television news helicopters showed agents gathering several rifles from the sprawling property with a boxing ring and hot tub in the backyard that appears in many of Paul’s recent YouTube videos.

A SWAT team initially entered the property, Eimiller said. No arrests were made.

Email messages left with representatives for Paul seeking comment on the raid were not immediately returned.

Paul, 23, has over 20 million followers on his YouTube channel, which features stunts, pranks, stories from his personal life, and more recently music videos.

He rose to fame on the short video app Vine and spent two years as an actor on the Disney Channel show “Bizaardvark.”

His older brother, Logan Paul, has a similar YouTube channel with even more followers.

Neighbors have complained to media outlets for several years about the stunts Jake Paul has pulled on the property for his YouTube channel.

Last month, Calabasas Mayor Alicia Weintraub harshly criticized him after video emerged of dozens of people at a party at his home amid the coronavirus outbreak, with no apparent masks or social distancing.

In June, he was charged with criminal trespassing and unlawful assembly by police in Scottsdale, Arizona when he appeared on video inside a mall that a big crowd of people had broken into, looting stores.

Paul said in a subsequent YouTube video that he had only been looking for people protesting the death of George Floyd, and did not take part in any of the destruction.

Ryan Reynolds ‘Unreservedly Sorry’ for Getting Married at South Carolina Plantation

Wed, 05 Aug 2020 13:48:56 GMT

Ryan Reynolds has expressed regret for holding his wedding to Blake Lively at a former plantation in South Carolina.

“It’s something we’ll always be deeply and unreservedly sorry for,” the actor told Fast Company in a new interview. “It’s impossible to reconcile.”

Reynolds and Lively married in 2012 at Boone Hall, a former plantation in Mount Pleasant, South Carolina. In the years before the Civil War, Boone Hall was the site of a brick-building business, which thrived from the labor of enslaved people. The plantation displays nine slave cabins, called “Slave Street.” Historians and activists have long said using such venues for celebratory events like weddings glorifies the American system of slavery and the violent oppression of Black people.

Speaking with Fast Company, Reynolds said that at the time, he and Lively viewed Boone Hall as “a wedding venue on Pinterest,” and only later saw the site as “a place built upon devastating tragedy.” Last year, Pinterest, along with wedding websites like The Knot and Zola, announced it would stop promoting content that romanticizes plantation weddings.

“But shame works in weird ways,” he said. “A giant f-cking mistake like that can either cause you to shut down or it can reframe things and move you into action.” To that end, Reynolds introduced the Group Effort Initiative in July, which aims to invest in marginalized communities that are typically underrepresented and ignored in Hollywood.

“Representation and diversity need to be completely immersive,” he said. “Like, it needs to be embedded at the root of storytelling, and that’s in both marketing and Hollywood.”

Disney to Release ‘Mulan’ on Disney+, for an Additional $29.99

Tue, 04 Aug 2020 23:01:10 GMT

“Mulan” is no longer headed for a major theatrical release. The Walt Disney Co. said Tuesday that it will debut its live-action blockbuster on its subscription streaming service, Disney+, on Sept. 4.

But this is no “Hamilton”: Customers will have to pay an additional $29.99 on top of the cost of the monthly subscription to rent “Mulan.” The company plans to release it in theaters in areas where Disney+ is not available.

“In order to meet the needs of consumers during this unpredictable period, we thought it was important to find alternative ways to bring this exceptional family-friendly film to them in a timely manner,” Disney CEO Bob Chapek said on the company’s earnings call. “We see this as an opportunity to bring this incredible film to a broad audience currently unable to go to movie theaters.”

The live-action remake of the animated film was one of the first major films to be affected by the coronavirus pandemic. Originally set for a March 27 release, “Mulan” moved to late July, then late August and was then pulled from the calendar all together as COVID-19 cases spiked through the U.S.

Along with Warner Bros.’ “Tenet,” “Mulan” was going to be one of the first major movies to open in theaters since the shutdown. Exhibitors, most of which have been closed for over four months, have been desperate for new films that would help draw wary audiences back to theaters.

But while Warner Bros. is moving forward with a theatrical release plan, which involves opening “Tenet” internationally first and then in select U.S. theaters a week later, on Sept. 3, Disney decided to pivot and direct consumers to its streaming service.

It is not unprecedented for a major studio to offer a premium video on demand release during the pandemic. Universal Pictures debuted “Trolls World Tour” on streaming in April while most theaters were shuttered. Although it caused a major rift at the time, it has since led to an historic compromise between the nation’s largest theater chain and Universal to shrink its theatrical window to 17 days.

But few expected “Mulan,” a $200 million production, to go this route, even Disney. In late June, when announcing its delay to August, Disney executives Alan Horn and Alan Bergman wrote in a joint statement that “Mulan” was, “Everything the cinematic experience should be, and that’s where we believe it belongs—on the world stage and the big screen for audiences around the globe to enjoy together.”

The 15 Best Friends Episodes to Stream on HBO Max

Tue, 04 Aug 2020 21:18:57 GMT

During times of chaos and anxiety, many of us take comfort in nostalgia. And as the streaming wars heat up, platforms like HBO Max and Peacock have shelled out massively to land the rights to fan favorite TV series. Among the most coveted of these is Friends, which left Netflix last year and is now available on HBO Max. All 10 seasons of the beloved sitcom are available to stream on the platform, and while some moments have aged less well than others, the show has retained its popularity among fans since it aired its final episode in May 2004.

For those looking to revisit some of the show’s most memorable moments, here is a list of the 15 best Friends episodes to stream on HBO Max, presented in chronological order:

The One With the East German Laundry Detergent (Season 1, Episode 5)

Early on in Friends, it becomes clear that newly-divorced Ross (David Schwimmer) has longstanding feelings for Rachel (Jennifer Aniston). This episode marks plenty of firsts—Rachel’s first time doing laundry, Ross and Rachel’s first “date,” and the pair’s first kiss. It also introduced audiences to Chandler’s (Matthew Perry) recurring flame Janice (Maggie Wheeler)—and her inimitable laugh.

The One With the Prom Video (Season 2, Episode 14)

The flashbacks of the series make for some of the best viewing, and this one, featuring an old video of Monica (Courteney Cox) and Rachel’s prom, is one of the funniest and most moving. Besides the questionable outfits and hair—as well as the problematic comments about Monica’s weight and Rachel’s nose—everyone gets a glimpse into how hopelessly devoted to Rachel Ross has been since their teenage years, which predictably melts Rachel’s heart.

The One Where No One’s Ready (Season 3, Episode 2)

Ross has planned a night out for the gang to a black-tie benefit at his museum, and he’s timed everything right down to the minute. The challenge is to get everyone dressed and ready to go, but obstacle after obstacle gets in the way—not least of which is a childish fight that ends with Joey (Matt LeBlanc) wearing every item in Chandler’s wardrobe and uttering the immortal line, “could I be wearing any more clothes?”

The One With the Jellyfish (Season 4, Episode 1)

A weekend away at the beach descends into chaos as Monica gets stung by a jellyfish and Ross decides to break up with his new girlfriend to get back together with Rachel. But an 18-page letter (“front and back!”) brings up unresolved feelings from Ross, and a few days of bliss for the on-again, off-again couple ends in another shouting match. Did someone say “we were on a break”?

The One With the Embryos (Season 4, Episode 12)

Phoebe (Lisa Kudrow) takes the first step to help her brother and his wife conceive children via surrogacy and the women compete with the men as to who knows each other better. This one is worth watching for the frantic excitement of the timed trivia rounds, seeing Monica’s slightly terrifying competitive side come out, and the revelation that no one has the faintest clue what Chandler’s job actually is.

The One With All the Wedding Dresses (Season 4, Episode 20)

Chandler is dealing with sleepless nights as Joey’s snores rattle through their apartment. Meanwhile, Monica goes to collect Ross’ fiancée Emily’s (Helen Baxendale) wedding dress, and quickly becomes addicted to wearing the dress around her apartment. Luckily she’s not the only one—Phoebe turns up at her door wearing a gown, and Rachel joins in too. It turns out to be particularly bad timing for Rachel, who accidentally opens the door to the commitment-shy guy she’s been seeing, fully decked out in a wedding gown and exclaiming, “I do!”

The One With All the Thanksgivings (Season 5, Episode 8)

The gang reminisces about all their worst Thanksgivings, and some shocking secrets come to light. It’s another fun flashback episode that takes us back to the ’80s, as Ross and Chandler come home from college having discovered the band Wham!. The main lesson from this episode? Never wear wicker shoes.

The One With All the Resolutions (Season 5, Episode 11)

It’s the beginning of 1999, and the six friends make new resolutions: Ross promises to try and do one thing he’s never done before every day, Phoebe wants to pilot a commercial jet, Chandler begrudgingly agrees not to make fun of his friends, Joey plans to learn the guitar, Rachel tries her best not to gossip about people and Monica resolves to take more photos. And while Ross’ resolution inexplicably results in his disastrous purchase of a pair of leather pants, Rachel stumbles on a secret about Chandler and Monica that is too big not to gossip about.

The One Where Everybody Finds Out (Season 5, Episode 14)

Chandler and Monica have been dating in secret for the past 14 episodes since they got together at Ross’ wedding in London. One by one, the rest of the group finds out and decides to have some fun of their own, culminating in a very awkward double-bluff date between Chandler and Phoebe, and the return of angry Ross in the final scene.

The One Where Ross Got High (Season 6, Episode 9)

Ross’ parents have always had a firm dislike of Chandler and we finally find out why, as one of Ross’ white lies from their college days comes back to haunt him. But the best supporting actor in this episode is Rachel’s traditional English trifle, composed of lady fingers, jam, custard, raspberries, bananas, whipped cream and, of course, beef sautéed with peas and onions.

The One With the Routine (Season 6, Episode 10)

Joey finally gets his chance to kiss his roommate Janine, played by Elle Macpherson, at the recording of Dick Clark’s New Year’s Rockin’ Eve party. But it’s Ross and Monica who steal the show with “The Routine,” their middle school dance routine which has to be seen to be believed.

The One That Could Have Been, Parts 1 and 2 (Season 6, Episodes 15 and 16)

When Rachel hears that Barry, the man she was meant to marry but ran away from in the first episode, is getting a divorce, it prompts the friends to think about how different their lives could have been had they made different decisions. Cue two episodes that show the gang in an alternate reality, in which Rachel marries Barry, Ross stays married to Carol, Monica “stays fat,” Joey still works on Days of Our Lives, Phoebe takes a job at Merrill Lynch and Chandler quits his job to pursue writing.

The One With Unagi (Season 6, Episode 17)

An episode in which Ross tries to mansplain self-defense, “kara-TE” and “unagi” to Rachel and Phoebe. “Only by true unagi can you be prepared for any danger that may befall you,” he tells them, before they give him a taste of his own medicine.

The One With All the Cheesecakes (Season 7, Episode 11)

An erroneous cheesecake delivery sets Chandler and Rachel on a slippery slope to stealing more desserts and even eating the remains of one dish from the hallway floor. This episode also sees the return of Phoebe’s earlier love, scientist David (Hank Azaria), in one of the most endearing guest turns of the series.

The One Where Ross Is Fine (Season 10, Episode 2)

Ever run into an ex, and the conversation is a little awkward? Ross ups the ante here by hosting a dinner party with Charlie (his new girlfriend), Rachel (his ex-girlfriend), and Joey (who has just started dating Rachel and used to date Charlie). Ross stresses, but everything turns out fine, especially when washed down with margaritas.

Meet Dancer Papi Ojo, the Breakout Star of Beyonce’s Black Is King

Tue, 04 Aug 2020 21:00:10 GMT

There are not many performers who can steal even an iota of the spotlight away from Beyoncé when she’s locked in. But in Black is King, her new visual album released last week on Disney+, an intriguing figure returns again and again to demand viewers’ attention. He wanders gorgeous African landscapes pensively, eyelids heavy and skin painted so blue as to appear almost translucent; he dances side by side with Beyoncé, hips jerking, tongue flailing outward.

That man is Stephen “Papi” Ojo, a self-taught 22-year-old Nigerian-born performer who has quietly played an outsize role in bringing African dance to American stages. He flanked Rihanna’s right shoulder at the 2018 Grammys as their gwara gwara dance (from South Africa) became a moment of international fascination; he taught Janet Jackson the kupe (from Ghana) for her music video “Made For Now,” a vibrant whirlwind of diasphoric triumph.

And in Black is King, Ojo is the most prominent face beyond that of its headlining star. He plays the “blue man,” who represents the subconscious of the protagonist prince and the power of African dance. It’s another unexpected moment of ascendance for a self-described “boy from Lagos” who has experienced harrowing personal tragedy and is still searching for financial stability: just a few months ago, he was packaging boxes overnight at an Amazon warehouse in Staten Island.

“I have to make sure my people are properly represented,” Ojo says. “The fact that we have a legend like Beyoncé doing these moves will make people generations from now want to research them and think, ‘If Beyoncé is doing it, it must be important! It must have some kind of meaning.’”

Dreams do come through 🚀🚀🚀 #beyonce #blueman #papiojo @Beyonce pic.twitter.com/SkLXAl6O4y

— PAPI_OJO (@PAPI_OJO) July 31, 2020

Nigerian beginnings

Ojo grew up in Lagos, Nigeria’s most populous city. His family was solidly middle class but dealt with what he calls “day-to-day Lagos struggles,” including its unreliable power grid and bumpy roads. Ojo was steeped in the country’s art and culture, listening to Afrobeat artists like P-Square and Sound Sultan and dancing at naming ceremonies and birthday parties for fun.

In 2008, Ojo’s family moved to Brooklyn in search of better opportunities. After settling in the neighborhood East New York, Ojo started a dance group alongside his older brother Emmanuel and friend Caleb Bonney; they would watch YouTube videos of African dance routines and rehearse incessantly until they were ready to post their own renditions on social media. Before long, these videos earned them live audiences. “We would go to college shows or fashion shows and be the only Afro dancers—and people loved us because that’s not something they see,” he recalls.

But tragedy struck one day in 2016, when the Ojo brothers were in Pennsylvania for a church convention, and Stephen started drowning in the deep end of a hotel pool. Emmanuel jumped in to save him, and was able to lead Stephen to the edge of the pool. But by the time Stephen had climbed out, Emmanuel was drowning. By the time the paramedic arrived, it was too late to save him.

“He was my best friend,” Ojo says.

After his brother’s death, Ojo stopped dancing for awhile. “But I had to sit down and say to myself, ‘If Emmanuel was here right now, would he want me to quit dancing? Or would he want me to keep pushing the legacy that we’re trying to create for our family?’” he says. I told myself I needed to get back on the horse, keep putting out content for people to love the culture.”

Now a duo, the A.V.O. Boyz, as they called the group, threw themselves into dance lessons, viral challenges and live performances, and gained a larger following, at the same time as Nigerian musicians like Wizkid and Davido were making waves internationally. A year and a half later, Ojo was studying political science at the City College of New York when they were offered their first industry job: to flank Rihanna onstage at the 2018 Grammys during “Wild Thoughts.”

The first rehearsals were rough, but Ojo steadied himself and even helped to teach Rihanna the gwara gwara, a shimmying South African move that would immediately define the performance. “I got to teach Rihanna moves from Africa,” he says. “I thought, ‘we’ve reached the top.’”

OMG Rihanna is doing the gwara gwara a South African dance step 😲😲😲

Big Ups South Africa you are influencing THE Culture #grammys #GrammyAwards
🇿🇦🇿🇦🇿🇦🇿🇦🇿🇦🇿🇦🇿🇦🇿🇦🇿🇦🇿🇦🇿🇦🇿🇦🇿🇦 pic.twitter.com/eP0v3M8X8W

— Eilani 🦋 (@EilaniWhyte) January 29, 2018

The performance earned Ojo more high-profile gigs, including backing Big Sean and A$AP Ferg at the 2019 VMAs, Teyana Taylor at her Red Bull Music Academy show and Janet Jackson in “Made For Now,” which has 72 million views and counting.

Teaching Beyoncé

Courtesy of Parkwood Entertainment/Disney+Stephen Ojo in “Black is King.”

Last summer, Ojo was at the gym when he got a mysterious call. “They were just like, ‘Hey, we need you to fly to L.A. tomorrow for a big job,’” he says.

It turned out to be for the music video to Beyoncé’s “Spirit,” the rousing lead single off her album Lion King: The Gift. Ojo does not have a big role in that video by any stretch: he is one member of one of many featured dance troupes.

But Ojo says he helped choreograph parts of the dance and show her team different movements—like the network from Ghana and the kpakujemu from Nigeria. Not long after, he was asked to fly to South Africa, where he realized he was about to play a much bigger role. “When I got there, I was the only one there,” he says, laughing.

Black is King is loosely based on the story of The Lion King: a prince is born and must overcome adversity to find his way home. Since the film’s release, many have theorized about the significance of Ojo’s “blue man.” Some have speculated that he represents a water genie; another article postulates that his shade is a reference to “haint blue,” which is thought to protect against evil spirits or represent a spirit itself.

Ojo wasn’t particularly forthcoming about his character’s significance. “I’m supposed to be guiding Simba, with culturally-rooted afro-dance moves, throughout his stages of life,” he says. He was similarly reticent about how long he spent shooting (“a few months”) or where he shot (“We went to a lot of different places”).

But he did say that he was given free rein to create his own solo during “Find Your Way Back,” and that he taught Beyoncé specific African dance moves, like the Nigerian gbese, for their swaggering duet during “Already.” Ojo said he felt an enormous weight in serving as an African dance ambassador to one of the world’s biggest pop stars: “If you mess up, that could be a backlash from both ends—with people in the U.S. saying, ‘this guy doesn’t know what he’s doing,’ and people from back home being like, ‘you didn’t properly represent us,’” he says.

But the collaborative process went smoothly. “She was a very good student,” he says. “Paying homage to the originators, paying respect to our culture—some people might not care. But she was very receptive. She was being respectful the whole time, listening. And every move was clean, sharp, crisp.”

Beyoncé is credited as the director and executive producer of the project, and Ojo was witness to her artistic control. “She was working harder than anybody. She knew everything about the project like the back of her hand,” he says. “It made me realize, ‘this is something you need to emulate—to take and hold tight.’”

Ojo flew home, kept the secret for months, and was inspired to dive further into his own fledgling Afrobeat music career as a singer. But the coronavirus halted all of his performances, and in order to make money, he took a job at Amazon, packing boxes at their Staten Island warehouse. “But my heart couldn’t do it,” he says—so he left the job and returned to creating music and dance.

When Black is King was released on July 31, many on Twitter were commenting to ask about the significance of the blue man or offer him praise. (The film has mostly received acclaim, but some have argued it presents a monolithic portrayal of Africa.) Ojo is grateful for the attention, and he’s hoping to capitalize on the moment by putting out new dance videos and songs; in striving to match Beyoncé’s work ethic, he hopes to raise even more awareness and love for his cultural roots. “A lot more people want to do research, learn the dances, or understand what part of Africa they’re from,” he says. “It’s just a beautiful thing to see.”

Martin Margiela: In His Own Words Explores the Revolutionary Designer’s Secrets—Without ...

Tue, 04 Aug 2020 19:23:30 GMT

Miraculously, the revolutionary Belgian designer Martin Margiela—from his start in the late 1980s until 2008, when he left the house that bears his name—has never shown his face in public. His creations—angular white tunics poised to take wing, strangely erotic soft leather boots with a tabi-style split toe—could be jarringly conceptual or starkly beautiful, and were often both. Sometimes his clothes could be hard to understand at first. His runway shows—often featuring models whose faces were swathed in fabric or obscured by shaggy wigs—were dazzling but also enigmatic. Still, he insisted on his privacy, preferring not to explain his ideas to the press or to consumers.

If that approach makes Margiela sound arrogant, Reiner Holzemer’s superb documentary Martin Margiela: In His Own Words proves the opposite. Holzemer never shows the designer’s face, but we hear his voice and see his hands: We watch as he goes through mementos he’s saved over the years, like the forged invitation that got him, as a young, aspiring designer, into a Jean Paul Gaultier show—later he would get his start in fashion as Gaultier’s assistant. But Holzemer’s film goes even further back than that: Margiela explains that a Courreges fashion show he saw on television as a child in the mid-1960s inspired him to snip the toes off the boots of his Barbie dolls, an early sign that wherever the world was headed, he wanted to be out front, leading the way to modernity. The Margiela woman was, as a former assistant explains in the film, mysterious, not sexy.

Mystery is the key to understanding Margiela, and he explains how his anonymity gave him freedom: “I knew I could give more if I felt protected,” he says. We watch as he fashions a sturdily exquisite necklace from a champagne cork and a length of black ribbon. Anyone could do it, but who would think to do it, just so? As former New York Times fashion critic Cathy Horyn says in the film, by refusing to spell out the language of his clothes in words, Margiela “did us a favor: He made us think more.” Here, the effect of merely hearing his voice and watching his hands is so intimate that we walk away with an almost tactile sense of who Martin Margiela is, the way we confidently, yet only sort of, know what the man in the moon looks like. His mystery becomes our secret too.

A Fashion Historian Unpacks the Symbolism of Beyoncé’s ‘Black Is King’ Costumes

Tue, 04 Aug 2020 17:32:19 GMT

When Beyoncé released her latest visual album Black Is King on Disney+ on July 31, casual fans and the BeyHive alike were treated to a glorious feast for the eyes that featured the rich range of cultures and countries of the African continent. While the Afrocentric narrative of Black Is King draws on last year’s The Lion King: The Gift album as a framework to explore both Africa’s vast history and the African diaspora through the coming-of-age story of a young king, the aesthetic component of the film plays an equally important role, thanks to the dazzling vision of Beyoncé and her creative collaborators, especially her stylist, Zerina Akers.

“With this visual album, I wanted to present elements of Black history and African tradition, with a modern twist and a universal message, and what it truly means to find your self-identity and build a legacy,” Beyonce said when the trailer for the project dropped in early July.

Many of the most striking moments in Black Is King owe their gravitas to the bold fashion statements present in each scene that pay homage to everything from the Yoruba river goddess Oshun to Lipombo elongation. Fashion historian and curator Darnell-Jamal Lisby says that Beyoncé’s use of fashion to tell a story is far from new (one only need look as far as her Daughters of the Dust-esque visuals for Lemonade or her HBCU-inspired theme for 2018’s Beychella) — but says that with Black Is King, she very deliberately used her costumes to center the story.

“You see the entire direction of where her artistry is going in terms of using fashion more wholly to really speak to this theme of her appreciation for the various cultures of Africa and the total African diaspora,” Lisby tells TIME. “It was a nod and an homage to the diversity of Africa, that it’s not all just one conditioned picture that’s been trained in the Western world for our eyes to think about when it comes to Africa, but it gives an access point, for some who might not realize there is so much diversity within the African continent and every culture has something to give and has given to our global history.”

Below, Lisby weighed in on some of the references Beyoncé makes with her fashion in Black Is King.

Oshun, the Yoruba goddess of fertility and rivers

According to Lisby, Beyoncé references Oshun, the Yoruba goddess of fertility and rivers, multiple times in Black Is King, including in the “Spirit” music video that was released last year (the footage was incorporated in the new film), where she sports a Lafalaise Dion cowrie shell mask, and in the opening scene of the visual album, where she appears wearing a romantic sheer cream gown by Wendy Nichol. This isn’t the first time that Beyoncé has referenced Oshun either; her show-stopping Grammys performance in 2017 had a clear ode to the deity associated with love.

Beyoncé’s Lipombo-inspired Hairstyle

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Black is King out now. @Beyonce Another one for the books. (wearing Timothy White Custom) I just wanted to take a minute and shout out the people that rode with me through this. My Brother – Creative Genius @kwasifordjour My Brother – Market Director @rrrffb My Team: @beonciadunn @suzetteselman @thankschris @petty__cash @j___dp @auntie_liv_ @thejustinramirez @ryandodson @hottiecollective Tonya Huynh Jaiin Kang Janelle Glindo Ashley Smith Zoe Zhou Anaijah Johnson @maeamaria John Mcqaude Rasheeda Alade Azeezat Amusat (Drop me your handles) 📷: @a_kid_named_trav

A post shared by Zerina Akers 🧿 (@zerinaakers) on Jul 31, 2020 at 1:53am PDT

Beyonce’s braided hairstyle, which also made an appearance in her “Sorry” video, was inspired by the head elongation practice Lipombo that was favored by the Congo’s Mangbetu people. “Her hairstyle in that elongated hairstyle, is a hairstyle that was created because of an elongation practice called Lipombo, which was done particularly in central Africa,” Lisby said.

Nguni Cowhide

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#Beyoncé in custom #Burberry for her new visual album #BlackIsKing . Beyoncé wears a cow-print corset top with matching mini skirt, created by #RiccardoTisci . #InBurberry

A post shared by Burberry (@burberry) on Jul 31, 2020 at 2:38am PDT

Lisby says Beyoncé’s custom Burberry cowhide look probably wasn’t just another animal print for Queen Bey. “I think that was certainly an ode to South African culture, specifically the Xhosa and the Zulu and their use of their Nguni cattle in that part of the world,” he said. “They culturally use it in very different ways; a prime example, the Zulu make their ceremonial shields out of that cowhide specifically. This could celebrate their use of that animal and how sacred it is to them.”

Headwraps like the gele and the duku

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BLACK IS KING //RETURN OF 5:31 As an afro-futurist this was the best opportunity to create something that felt strong, beautiful , sexy and of course magical. All of the things that fueled my aesthetic for @531jerome before I kept getting knocked off and overlooked by BARNEY'S & JEFFERY'S everyseason I landed @doverstreetmarketnewyork and opened my own retail store #9J and started to change my narrative…. graciously, I have been reawakened as a designer to show my magic in a new way… timing is everything and that is why the Creator had to give me a new vision( literally) to make magic exist in my own way. I even made sunglasses to make a point. I'm mad grateful. @beyonce @zerinaakers @kwasifordjour Hand beaded Nigerian lace Trench/ jumper with built in gloves made with Real Turquoise, Jade, hematite, mother of pearl , silver, Swarovski. Shout out to @sarahsokolmillinery for the crown!! #blackisking #art#magic #531jerome #swarovski #disney #jeromelamaar

A post shared by ᴊᴇʀᴏᴍᴇ ʟᴀᴍᴀᴀʀ (@jeromelamaar) on Jul 31, 2020 at 6:25am PDT

Beyonce’s many magnificent headdresses and wraps in Black Is King were extremely symbolic, according to Lisby. “The consistency of her wearing these headdresses and headbands, was like an ode to the gele. The headwrap is worn all over the continent, but in specifically Nigerian, Yoruba culture, they identity that as a gele and those in Ghana, identify it as the duku,” Lisby said. “Everybody has a different name for it, but it’s essentially the same thing and it’s worn very similarly all over the continent. And I think the consistency of her wearing it signals this respect for this traditional dress form that is one of the pillars of dress all over the continent. It’s symbol, essentially. A unified symbol even though it’s different in every country and every community.”