Entertainment
Chicana feminist Judithe Hernández draws complex humanity at the Cheech
In a revealing video interview that accompanies her captivating 50-year survey at the Riverside Art Museum’s Cheech Marin Center for Chicano Art & Culture, artist Judithe Hernández recounts how she became the anomalous fifth member of Los Four, the groundbreaking L.A. art collective. Following the group’s ambitious 1974 exhibition at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art, Hernández prevailed upon them to admit her into their ranks.
An activist colleague and friend of Los Four’s Frank Romero, Beto de la Rocha, Gilbert “Magú” Luján and, especially, Carlos Almaraz, the painter with whom she had been among just five Chicano students at Otis Art Institute (now Otis College of Art & Design), she pressed an irrefutable point: Being all male, Los Four was inherently compromised in its insistence on full Chicano equality in American life. Hernández provided them with a portfolio of her work, so Los Four could see that it was artistically satisfactory.
“She draws like a man,” Los Four approvingly decided, happily accepting her entreaty to join the group. Hernández, in a deadpan recounting of that rationale in the video, offers up an affectionate and knowing smile.
The wry anecdote underscores two qualities of her work that run throughout “Judithe Hernández: Beyond Myself, Somewhere, I Wait for My Arrival” at the Cheech. First, a feminist framework structures everything. Second, drawing is fundamental. The exhibition demonstrates, as if proof were needed, that social activism and individual artistic freedom are anything but incompatible.
In more than 80 drawings and several sketchbooks, which date from the 1970s to the present, women are almost always pictured. Men turn up in just a tiny handful — a 2010 series on the Christian origin story of Adam and Eve — but only to clarify the structural foundations of routine, often unacknowledged chauvinism.
Adam’s body is a chilly blue in Judithe Hernández’s 2010 series on the Genesis origin story, “Adam and Eve.”
(Christopher Knight / Los Angeles Times)
She renders Adam as a veritable boy-toy, handsome and naked, like a Madison Avenue model picked to sell cologne. Hernández often employs iconic compositions for her work, with just one or two figures shown frontally or in profile and located in a shallow, often decorative space. In “The Surrender of Adam,” the first man reclines naked in a tangle of deep green vegetation, Eden now a knot of San Pedro cactus.
In “The Birth of Adam,” he lies on a ground strewn with pebbles and lily pads, born of the soil that gave him his name (the Hebrew adamah). His eyes are shut, a flower pressed against his chest. His skin is blue, at once chilly but also the color of divine favor, from Hinduism’s Vishnu to Christianity’s mantle for the Virgin Mary.
“The Beginning of Sin” shows Adam from behind lying stock-still on top of Eve, his arms spread wide across the page and beyond its edges, in what can only be described as a prophecy of crucifixion. With her arms wrapped around him, she wears the mask of a luchador — a theatrical Mexican professional wrestler — crowned with branching horns. It’s like Frida Kahlo’s self-portrait as a wounded deer but without any injurious arrows to be seen. This Eve is robust, not distressed. She’s no martyr.
Lying on her back, she stares straight past Adam’s adjacent head and into the viewer’s eyes, wholly indifferent to the deadly red-and-black striped coral snake slithering nearby. Her lips are as crimson as the demonic serpent. Hernández is a brilliant colorist, the vivid hues sometimes functioning in suggestive symbolic mode while always reveling in pure decorative joy.
The decorative element is as feminist as her subject. For whatever reason, a pejorative implication always shrouded decoration in the modern era — even around such an important artist as Matisse. (It’s one reason Matisse was foolishly regarded for so long as secondary to Picasso.) But not here. Hernández, like other artists as different from her and from one another as Valerie Jaudon and Merion Estes, empowers decoration in the service of empowering women. She remade the Genesis story into a colorful visual narrative of complex humanity, rather than a fall from grace.
Judithe Hernández, “Soy la Desconocida,” 2022, pastel on paper.
(Riverside Art Museum)
Hernández was born in Los Angeles in 1948. At 22, her arrival at Otis coincided with the 1970 Chicano Moratorium, the huge antiwar demonstration in East L.A. that forged a broad-based coalition of Mexican American groups in opposition to the Vietnam conflict. Her mentor at Otis was Charles White, the esteemed Black artist whose 1946 study with David Alfaro Siqueiros and Diego Rivera at Mexico City’s Taller de Gráfica Popular (the People’s Print Workshop) cemented his commitment to socially and politically conscious graphic art.
The exhibition, organized by the museum’s artistic director, María Esther Fernández, is divided into four loosely thematic sections, rather than unfolding in a strict chronology. “The Evolution of the Female Archetype” is the closest to providing background — unfortunately, publication of a reference catalog is not expected until the fall — with observant if generally uninspiring genre scenes of humdrum daily life.
Next comes “Ni una más: Bearing Witness,” which gets up to speed fast. The section emphasizes work related to the shocking serial murders of women in and around the Mexican border city of Juarez, which has seen bloodshed for more than 30 years. (Appropriately, in September the Hernández survey will travel to the El Paso Museum of Art, just across the border from Juarez.) “Reimagining Eve” then pictures women as something other than subordinates — forget about Adam’s rib — while a final gallery marked by hallucinatory and dreamlike probing looks at the “Surrealist Landscape” as a dominant psychic, sociocultural context for Hernández. The organization works well.
Hers is a world where logic does not reign, independence is essential and the unconscious is a mechanism for self-knowledge. Mysterious outside forces are evoked by a red hand that, in numerous works, intrudes on the scene from the picture’s edge. The fateful hand reaches toward Eve on her final night before expulsion from the garden, for example, and elsewhere wields a knife blade to cut a flower rising from the sea next to a floating body.
One lush drawing shows a woman sleeping on the ground before a formidable wall of prickly pear cactus, an entangled piñata floating above like a tantalizing, delight-filled dream that is just out of reach. In the United States, California has always held promises of self-reinvention, and Hernández brings Chicana feminism into the enterprise.
More than 80 pastel drawings are in the 50-year Judithe Hernández retrospective at the Cheech.
(Christopher Knight / Los Angeles Times)
Mexican mysticism, inflected by pre-Columbian and Catholic cultures, informs much of the work. Most notably, the young woman standing before a hot pink wall in the coming-of-age icon “Juarez Quinceanera” sports enormous Aztec spools in her ears. The spools frame her mask-like open mouth, decorating voids in the human skull that signaled the soul’s vivacity in pre-Columbian culture. She’s crowned with an elaborate, off-kilter sculptural headdress reminiscent of the dragon-like feathered serpent Quetzalcoatl, the creator deity. A pair of calla lilies grasped in her hands acknowledges fertility.
Yet amid all the elaborate cultural festivity around the girl’s arrival at womanhood, there’s a sobering catch. White is the traditional color for an extravagant quinceanera dress, but hers is a funeral black. Behind her she casts a looming dark shadow against the bright pink wall. The fateful red hand that intrudes into other works here smears blood on that wall, as if left behind by a slumping body. For “Juarez Quinceanera,” life and death collide and intertwine.
What makes this and many other Hernández works especially compelling is their medium. These are drawings. The show surveys pastels, their details sometimes inflected with colored pencil, meticulously drawn on large sheets of paper or canvas. Hernández gives her drawings a scale more commonly encountered in easel paintings, but the form is marked by a visual intimacy different from paint applied with a brush. Drawing is about touch, the hand pressed directly to the sheet. Touch holds your eye, inviting close scrutiny.
Hernández is often referred to as a painter, and she has in fact painted numerous public murals. Yet, like her late mentor Charles White, drawing represents her most powerful gift. The urgency of her subject matter is given voice. Hernández doesn’t draw like a man; she draws like an important artist.
Judithe Hernández, “Santa Desconocida,” 2016, pastel on paper.
(Riverside Art Museum)
‘Judithe Hernández: Beyond Myself, Somewhere, I Wait for My Arrival’
Where: The Cheech Marin Center at the Riverside Art Museum, 3581 Mission Inn Ave., Riverside
When: Through Aug. 4. 10 a.m.–5 p.m. Wednesday-Saturday. 12 p.m.–5 p.m. Sunday
Info: (951) 684-7111, www.riversideartmuseum.org
Movie Name : Sirai
Streaming Date : Jan 23, 2026
Streaming Platform : ZEE5
123telugu.com Rating : 3.25/5
Starring : Vikram Prabhu, LK Akshay Kumar, Anishma Anilkumar, Ananda Thambirajah
Director : Suresh Rajakumari
Producer : SS Lalit Kumar
Music Director : Justin Prabhakaran
Cinematographer : Madhesh Manickam
Editor : Philomin Raj
Related Links : Trailer
Sirai marks the 25th film of actor Vikram Prabhu. The Tamil movie was released on Christmas Eve and went on to score hit status at the box office. It has now arrived on OTT with a Telugu dub, and here is our review of the crime drama.
Story:
Set in 2003 in Guntur, Srinivas (Vikram Prabhu) is a head constable in the Armed Reserve (AR). During an escort duty, a prisoner attempts to escape, forcing Srinivas to shoot him dead, which puts him under scrutiny by higher authorities. While the enquiry is still ongoing, Srinivas is assigned another escort duty to transport Abdul Rauf (L. K. Akshay Kumar), a murder convict, from a central prison to Kurnool. During the journey, Srinivas senses something amiss, and the situation worsens when Abdul goes missing. With the prisoner required to be produced in court the very next day, the tension escalates. What happens next? Does Srinivas and his team manage to trace Abdul? Who is Abdul, and what is his backstory? The rest of the film unfolds the answers.
Plus Points:
The film touches upon a different and rarely explored aspect of police life. Unlike most films that focus on senior officers and portray them heroically, Sirai revolves around a head constable from the Armed Reserve. Srinivas is shown as a grounded human being rather than a larger-than-life policeman, which makes the approach refreshing.
Vikram Prabhu delivers a neat performance, but the actor who truly stands out is L. K. Akshay Kumar. He effectively portrays the dilemma, pain, and hope of a prisoner, and his performance becomes a major driving force of the film.
The flashback narrated from Abdul’s point of view is emotional and engaging. Along with the emotional depth, the suspense maintained in certain scenes, especially during the escape sequence and the pre-climax and climax portions, works well.
The police station episode after the escape, the emotional scenes in the final 30 minutes, including the courtroom portions, and the suspense-filled climax are well executed and keep the viewer engaged.
Anishma Anilkumar, as Kalavathi, delivers a neat performance. The remaining cast members perform adequately.
Minus Points:
There is limited scope to point out major drawbacks. Some viewers may find the initial portions slightly routine, but the narrative picks up as the film progresses.
Though Vikram Prabhu is the lead, his role offers limited scope for performance. While he gets sufficient screen time, the character does not demand much in terms of expressions. His personal life angle is underdeveloped, and the character of his wife adds little value to the story. In the flashback portions, the love story and conflict scenes could have been explored in more detail.
Technical Aspects:
Despite this being his debut, director Suresh Rajakumari impresses with his screenplay and execution, giving the film the feel of an experienced filmmaker’s work.
Justin Prabhakaran’s background score is one of the film’s highlights and plays a key role in maintaining suspense and enhancing emotional moments. Madhesh Manickam’s cinematography is neat and serves the narrative well.
Editing by Philomin Raj is effective, keeping the film crisp within its two-hour runtime. The production values are decent, and the Telugu dubbing is clean and well done.
Verdict:
On the whole, Sirai is an engaging crime drama backed by a solid screenplay and effective execution. Vikram Prabhu is decent, but L. K. Akshay Kumar steals the show. The police station episode, flashback portions, emotional moments, and suspenseful climax make it a film worth watching. Though the narration feels slightly slow in the beginning, it does not last long. On the whole, Sirai is definitely worth a watch for its content, execution, empathy, and humanity.
123telugu.com Rating: 3.25/5
Reviewed by 123telugu Team
Well, they do say any attention is good attention.
Actor Sydney Sweeney was in the spotlight Monday after being captured on video recently scaling the H of the Hollywood sign under the cloak of darkness — to hang up some bras.
TMZ reported on the footage, which was part of a promotion for Sweeney’s upcoming lingerie line. But according to the Hollywood Chamber of Commerce, the alleged publicity stunt was not authorized.
The chamber owns the intellectual property rights to the sign, which is managed by the nonprofit Hollywood Sign Trust. Neither the chamber nor the trust knew about the apparent Sweeney stunt until they saw the video, officials told The Times.
“Anyone intending to use and/or access the Hollywood Sign for commercial purposes must obtain a license or permission from the Hollywood Chamber to do so,” the chamber’s chief, Steve Nissen, said in a statement. “The production involving Sydney Sweeney and the Hollywood Sign, as reported by TMZ, was not authorized by the Hollywood Chamber of Commerce nor did we have prior knowledge of it.”
Nissen also said that the organization “did not grant a license or permission of any kind to the production … nor did anyone seek a license or permission from the Chamber for that production.”
Footage obtained by TMZ shows Sweeney climbing up the Hollywood sign to help string up a clothesline of assorted bras across the familiar landmark. The “Christy” star is accompanied by a small crew that is filming her handiwork.
The team did obtain a general permit to film in the area from FilmLA.
But as is explained both on the Hollywood Chamber of Commerce and Hollywood sign websites, filming the sign itself requires additional clearance and payment of a licensing fee. The chamber says a portion of the proceeds goes to a trust that assists in maintaining the Hollywood sign. Access to the Hollywood sign is generally restricted.
So far, a police report that could trigger a trespass investigation and review by prosecutors has not been filed, according to L.A. Police Officer Tony Im, a department spokesperson.
Built in 1923, the Hollywood sign was donated to the city 21 years later. Climbing or altering the sign are not permitted — and have happened over the decades. Famously, the letters were changed to “Hollyweed” by a local college student on New Year’s Day 1976 when California downgraded the possession of a small amount of pot from a possible felony to a misdemeanor. That stunt was repeated in 2017. In that case, the suspect was arrested on suspicion of trespass. In 1987, Caltech students changed the sign overnight to read “Caltech.”
Last February, a man was arrested after he climbed onto the letter D as part of a social media promotion and was taken into custody.
As for Sweeney, this is not the first time the actor has been scrutinized for promotional activity involving clothing. The “Euphoria” star previously faced backlash for the slogan of an ad campaign involving jeans. (Sweeney later addressed the controversy, telling the Hollywood Reporter that she was “surprised by the reaction” and that she “[doesn’t] support the views some people chose to connect to the campaign. Many have assigned motives and labels to me that just aren’t true.”)
Representatives for Sweeney did not respond to The Times’ request for comment.
The Wrecking Crew, 2026.
Directed by Angel Manuel Soto.
Starring Jason Momoa, Dave Bautista, Claes Bang, Temuera Morrison, Jacob Batalon, Frankie Adams, Miyavi, Stephen Root, Morena Baccarin, Lydia Peckham, Roimata Fox, Branscombe Richmond, Maia Kealoha, David Hekili Kenui Bell, and Mike Edward.
SYNOPSIS:
Estranged half-brothers Jonny and James reunite after their father’s mysterious death. As they search for the truth, buried secrets reveal a conspiracy threatening to tear their family apart.
At one point, foul-mouthed computer hacker sidekick Pika (Jacob Batalon) remarks that the leads, played by Dave Bautista and Jason Momoa, look like The Rock screwed himself and had twins. This lazy attempt at a joke is wild for several reasons: for starters, and this is said with no disrespect, it would make more sense directed at Jacob Batalon himself. It is also only one of several oddly placed jokes about past WWE legends. Moreover, the terrible insult feels more like director Angel Manuel Soto’s equally uninspired casting reasoning, as if he were saying to himself, “those guys look alike, let’s make a vulgar buddy action-comedy set in Hawaii using that.”
I have put more thought into making sense of that joke than anyone did while making The Wrecking Crew. Everything about the film (written by Jonathan Tropper) seems to have begun and certainly never evolved from that already simplistic idea that, while admittedly novel, is nowhere near enough to sustain 2 hours of generic plotting, CGI sludge, and the occasional satisfying fight scene.
James (Bautista) and Jonny (Momoa) are estranged half-brothers, with the suspicious death of their father paving the way to a series of events that call the latter home to Hawaii, a place he abandoned following being unable to solve his mom’s murder, currently residing in Oklahoma, and fighting with his on-and-off partner, Valentina (Morena Baccarin). Meanwhile, the former leads a traditional, idyllic family life while serving as a strict military commander training water cadets.
What more is to say that they incessantly bicker while finding themselves pushed into a rabbit hole of corruption involving the impending building of a casino on heritage land, Yakuza gangster reinforcements that want them dead, and the shady dealings between notable high-power figures here. Their only clue is a USB drive entrusted to Jonny and some files their father was trying to have Pika hack before his mysterious death, raising more questions than answers that the police department doesn’t seem too interested in looking into. Apparently, the crime occurred in a dead zone, out of range of all traffic cams and security footage.
Mismatched with James as the calm and reasonable one who wants to lay low, and Jonny as the angry loose cannon who, while never close to his father, feels as if he is obligated to solve what happened as a form of redemption for never finding cathartic justice over his mom’s murder. This also means that most of the humor is bestowed upon Jonny, who does everything from trying to sword fight with his genitalia to making endless heavyset jokes about Pika to blatantly racist gestures mocking Asian culture and famous celebrities such as Jackie Chan. When the character momentarily acknowledges and apologizes for saying something racist, it comes across as hollow, since the filmmakers clearly intend for it to land with audiences as funny. Nearly all of the jokes here are lazy more than anything, which is not helped by a grating performance from Jason Momoa, who is starting to play the same character in every movie now.
Across this unwieldy 2-hour running time that trudges through predictable plotting are a couple of bright spots. Namely, the chemistry between Dave Batista and Jason Momoa is amusing and even leads to a crowd-pleasing physical fight between them, sorting out their issues the good old-fashioned way. And while some of the car chases and more chaotic action sequences are filled with ghastly visual effects, the smaller-scale melee fights are mildly ambitious, at one point trying to re-create the beloved hallway battle from Oldboy, albeit with considerably less energy and bodies. The Hawaii setting is also a pleasant reprieve from the usual Los Angeles/Boston/New York familiarity. Mostly, though, all The Wrecking Crew does is repeatedly damage itself, destined to be another forgotten big-budget waste of algorithmic streaming space.
Flickering Myth Rating – Film: ★ ★ / Movie: ★ ★
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