Inside the ornate Bovard Auditorium, Larry David kept a full audience in stitches as he discussed the creation and legacy of his improv hit, “Curb Your Enthusiasm,” which concluded in 2024 after 12 seasons.

In a conversation with Lorraine Ali — who wrote “No Lessons Learned: The Making of Curb Your Enthusiasm,” which retraces the show’s 24-year run with cast interviews, episode guides and behind-the-scenes material — David reflected on the separation between himself and the abrasive on-screen persona he adopted for more than two decades.

“I wish I was that Larry David,” he said.

David spoke about the outrageous audition process for “Curb,” wherein actors tried to navigate a brief written scenario without any dialogue to guide them as David lambasted them in character. Out of this process came iconic one-liners and beloved characters, such as Leon, played by J.B. Smoove.

“People bring out certain things, and when I would act with them, some of them would make me seem funny,” David said. “I go, ‘Oh, that’s good — let’s give him a part.’”

David cited “Palestinian Chicken” as one of his favorite episodes of the show. In the episode, David is caught between a delicious new Palestinian chicken restaurant, a Palestinian girlfriend and an outraged inner circle of Jewish friends.

He also spoke briefly about his upcoming episodic HBO series, “Life, Larry and the Pursuit of Happiness,” a historical spoof that will retrace United States history for the country’s 250th founding anniversary. The series will premiere on Aug. 7.

“A lot of wigs, costumes, beards — fake beards,” David said. “Nothing worse than fake beards.”

The controversial ending of “Seinfeld,” which David co-wrote with comedian Jerry Seinfeld, was polarizing among fans when it was released, David said. After a recent rewatch, however, David said he thought it was “pretty good,” to a round of applause from the audience.

Near the end of the panel, an audience member asked a question some definitely had on their mind: Will “Seinfeld” ever get a reunion?

“No,” David replied without missing a beat.

A rogue chicken observes the world around it—and particularly the plight of immigrants in Greece—in Hen, which premiered at last year’s Toronto International Film Festival and is now playing in Prague cinemas (and with English subtitles at Kino Světozor and Edison Filmhub). This story of man through the eyes of an animal immediately recalls Robert Bresson’s Au Hasard Balthazar (and Jerzy Skolimowski’s more recent EO), but director and co-writer György Pálfi (Taxidermia) maintains a bitter, unsentimental approach that lands with unexpected force.

Hen opens with striking scenes inside an industrial poultry facility, where eggs are laid, processed, and shuttled along assembly lines of machinery and human hands in an almost mechanized rhythm of production. From this system emerges our protagonist: a black chick that immediately stands apart from the others, its entry into the world defined not by nature, but by an uncaring food industry.

The titular hen matures quickly within this environment before being loaded onto a truck with the others, presumably destined for slaughter. Because of her black plumage, she is singled out by the driver and rejected from the shipment, only to be told she will instead end up as soup in his wife’s kitchen. During a stop at a gas station, however, she escapes.

What follows is a journey through rural Greece by the sea, including an encounter with a fox, before she eventually finds refuge at a decaying roadside restaurant run by an older man (Yannis Kokiasmenos), his daughter (Maria Diakopanayotou), and her child. Discovered by the family’s dog Titan, she is placed in a coop alongside other chickens.

After finding a mate in the local rooster, she lays eggs that are regularly collected by the man; in one quietly unsettling scene, she watches him crack them open and cook them into an omelet. The hen repeatedly attempts to escape, as we slowly observe the true function of the property: it is being used as a transit point for migrants arriving in Greece by boat, facilitated by local criminal figures.

Like Au Hasard Balthazar and EO, Hen largely resists anthropomorphizing its animal protagonist. The hen behaves as a hen, and the humans treat her accordingly, creating a work that feels unusually grounded and almost documentary in texture. At the same time, Pálfi allows space for the audience to project meaning onto her journey, never fully closing the gap between instinct and interpretation.

There are moments, however, where the film deliberately leans into stylization. A playful montage set to Ravel’s Boléro captures her repeated escape attempts from the coop, while a romantic musical cue underscores her brief pairing with the rooster. These sequences do not break the realism so much as refract it, gently encouraging us to read emotion into behavior that remains, on the surface, purely animal.

One of the film’s central narrative threads is the hen’s search for a safe space to lay her eggs without them being taken away by the restaurant owner. This deceptively simple instinct becomes a powerful thematic mirror for the film’s human subplot involving migrant trafficking. Pálfi draws a stark, often uncomfortable parallel between the treatment of animals as commodities and the treatment of displaced people as disposable bodies moving through a similar system of exploitation.

The film takes an increasingly bleak turn toward its climax as the migrant storyline comes fully into focus, sharpening its allegorical intent. The juxtaposition of animal and human vulnerability becomes more explicit, reinforcing the film’s central critique of systemic indifference and violence. While effective, this escalation feels unusually dark, and our protagonist’s unknowing role feels particularly cruel.

The use of animal actors in Hen is remarkable throughout. The hen—played by eight trained chickens—is seamlessly integrated into the film’s world, with seamless editing (by Réka Lemhényi) and staging so precise that at times it feels almost impossible without digital augmentation. While subtle effects work must assist at certain moments, the result is convincing throughout, including standout sequences involving a fox and a dog.

Zoltán Dévényi and Giorgos Karvelas’ cinematography is also impressive, capturing both the intimacy of the hen’s low vantage point and the broader Greek landscape with striking clarity. The camera’s proximity to the animal world gives the film a distinct visual grammar, grounding its allegory in tactile observation rather than abstraction.

Hen is a challenging but often deeply affecting allegory that extends the tradition of animal-centered cinema while pushing it into harsher political territory. Pálfi’s approach—unsentimental, patient, and often confrontational—ensures the film lingers long after its final images. It is not an easy watch, nor a comfortable one, but it is a strikingly original piece of filmmaking that uses its unusual perspective to cast familiar human horrors in a stark, unsettling new light.

On the first Sunday night of Coachella, headliner Karol G told her American fans, and her global audience, to keep fighting.

“This is for my Latinos that have been struggling in this country lately,” the Colombian superstar told the tens of thousands watching her in person, and many more on the fest’s livestream. She’d recently criticized ICE in a Playboy interview, but this set was about her fans’ resolve. “We want everyone to feel welcome to our culture, so I want everyone to feel proud of where you come from. Don’t feel fear — feel pride!” she said.

Any artist would be proud to play that caliber of headline slot. But right now, many foreign acts also feel fear — or at least wariness — about booking substantial tours in the United States. A year of brutal ICE raids, tensions at border crossings and policed political speech, coupled with sky-high prices for expedited visas, fuel and other touring logistics, could push international acts away from the U.S.

“The fears that ICE would raid shows didn’t really materialize, but there is a chilling effect,” said Andy Gensler, editor of the touring-biz trade bible Pollstar. “Trump’s only been back in office a year, so we haven’t fully seen the effects, but it does send a message that if you’re a political artist you won’t get a visa. With the economic shock of gas prices and tourism way down, the signifiers are out there.”

The music economy is still thriving in SoCal. Coachella sold out with record spending from fans, and fears that ICE might show up for a prominent Latin headliner proved unfounded. (The agency did not respond to a request for comment on Coachella, and Lt. Deirdre Vickers of the Riverside County Sheriff’s office said that their office “does not participate in immigration enforcement operations.”)

But in smaller venues featuring emerging and mid-tier global acts, some see trouble ahead.

Pollstar’s Gensler estimates that the total number of concerts in the U.S. they tracked for the first quarter of 2026 was down about 17% from last year. That could be due to many economic factors — but slower international touring could be contributing.

“The U.S. is still incredibly lucrative market, the arena and stadium level buildings are vast and you can make more money here than any market in the world,” Gensler said. “But I’ve heard anecdotally that fewer people are going to South by Southwest, and tourism from Canada is way down, and that includes music tourism to California. As barriers go up, and the economic shock of gas prices impacts touring, it’s hard to know how that will all shake out.”

Talent firms who specialize in bringing young acts to the U.S. began noticing pullback before this year’s festival season. Adam Lewis is the head of Planetary Group, a marketing agency that produces and promoting musician showcases in the U.S., with a significant roster of artists from abroad. He said that performers who ordinarily would leap at the chance to play U.S. festivals are taking hard looks at the payoffs and risks.

“Artists are thinking twice, based on what the government is doing right now,” Lewis said. “You can look at the economics — the fees are cost prohibitive to get a visa. People are scared, at the bottom line. Artists and industry people are afraid to come to the U.S. for any music event. The money is going elsewhere.”

South by Southwest, the March Texas confab for music, film and tech, was among the first festivals to feel a pinch this year. Several sources said they saw fewer foreign showcases and acts amid a broader culling of music. In 2025, Canada canceled its popular annual showcase, after deciding that hostile policies made the risks not worth the rewards. Many still pulled off successful events, but acknowledged the mood has shifted.

“The perception of how hard it’s gotten has taken root, and that has meant that not as many acts will take the chance on the threat of being turned away or risking future entry,” said Angela Dorgan, the director of Music From Ireland, the Irish Music Export office (which is funded by Culture Ireland). That organization has helped break acts like CMAT (a hit at Coachella this year) and Fontaines DC in the U.S.

“Artists want to continue to come here in spite of the trouble and not stay away because of it. There’s a unique pull to America for all Irish people, so we don’t want to see you hurting,” Dorgan said. ”Irish artists feel that their U.S. fans need music more than ever now and want to continue to connect with and support their fans.”

Takafumi Sugahara, the organizer of “Tokyo Calling X Inspired By Tokyo,” a Japanese showcase at South by Southwest, agreed: “Bringing artists to the United States has always been challenging when it comes to obtaining visas, but it feels like the process has become even more difficult than before — perhaps due to the current political climate under the current administration.”

After high-profile incidents of tourist detainments and fear of reprisals for political speech, those worries and long-dreaded expenses may shift their priorities. “From my point of view, the impact of global conflicts or wars does not seem to be affecting artists’ decisions very strongly for now,” they said. “However, if the current situation were to worsen, it’s possible that we could begin to see that change.”

Coachella usually hits a few visa snafus every year (this year, the English electronic artist Tourist had to cancel. Last year, it was FKA Twigs). Yet the Grammy-winning Malian Algerian group Tinariwen had to cancel a major tour this year, after the Trump administration placed severe new travel restrictions on 19 countries, including Mali. Folk legend Cat Stevens scotched a book tour after visa problems. Outspoken acts like the U.K.’s Bob Vylan have been denied U.S. visas for criticizing Israel, and the Irish rap group Kneecap faced hurdles after their visa sponsor, Independent Artist Group, dropped them for similar reasons last year.

The Times spoke to one European band (who asked not to be named, for fear of reprisals from the U.S. government) who had a substantial tour of U.S. theaters booked last year, before their visas were denied just days before the tour was due to begin. They were forced to cancel those dates and reschedule for spring 2026, losing tens of thousands of dollars in up-front costs and non-refundable fees. (A performance visa routinely costs $6,000 with now-necessary expedited processing.)

“Our manager said, ‘This has never happened before, but even though you paid lot of money and the check cleared, you won’t have visas,’” the band said. They wondered if their pro-Palestinian advocacy might have played a role, but now believe it was due to changes in their application forms.

That small discrepancy “meant we lost tens of thousands of [dollars], which for a mid-tier band with a loyal cult following, was quite ruinous,” they said. “We had to put on fundraising shows to get to zero, then re-apply for visas, and paid four grand extra to expedite them. We took out a loan to pay it. We felt relentlessly fleeced,” they said. “We love the U.S., but now there is a reality in which we have to cut our losses and stop coming. A lot of bands are giving up on the U.S., for sure.”

“It’s a different feeling now where the U.S. government can do anything to us, and we just have to take it,” they added. “They’re moving the goalposts the whole time. It’s scary.”

That fate can befall even major acts, particularly those from Latin America.

Last year, superstar Mexican singer Julión Álvarez canceled his concert for a planned 50,000 fans in Arlington, Texas, when his touring visa was revoked. Grupo Firme faced a similar fate at the La Onda festival in Napa Valley. Los Alegres del Barranco saw their visas canceled after they projected an image of drug kingpin “El Mencho” during a concert.

“That was a moment where people realize how serious or scary it can get for promoters with this administration when comes to the visa situation, how quickly things can change and you can lose millions,” said Oscar Aréliz, a Latin music expert at Pollstar.

An act the caliber of Karol G might not face quite the same risks, though she told Playboy that “If you say the thing, maybe the next day you’ll get a call: ‘Hey, we are taking your visa away.’ You become bait, because some people want to show their power.”

If it can happen to a stadium-filler like Álvarez, it can happen to anyone. That might make some Latin acts prioritize other regions.

Bad Bunny demurred on touring the continental U.S. for fear of ICE raids at his shows, opting for a lengthy residence in his home territory of Puerto Rico instead.

Local Latin music hubs like Santa Fe Springs and Pico Rivera have suffered greatly under recent ICE raids and have seen fans retreat in fear. Las Vegas is a major touring destination for acts during Mexican independence celebrations in September, but now “it feels different,” Aréliz said. He expects the city — typically boisterous with Latin acts then — to lose a big chunk of music tourism from the north and south.

“Vegas’ top tourist countries are Canada and Mexico, so we’re going to see other countries benefit from this. If acts struggle to tour here because of the visa situation, they’re going to tour Mexico and Latin America instead,” he added.

Tours typically book a year in advance, so the full effects of the visa issues and ICE fears may not be felt until later in 2026 or 2027. The results of the midterm elections may change global perception of America’s safety. The country is still an incredibly valuable touring market for acts that can make it work.

But the world’s music community now looks at the U.S. like an old friend going through a rough patch: They’ll be happy to see us once we pull it together.

“Certainly over the last number of years in the U.S., we have been thinking of where we could find these new audiences for Irish music,” Dorgan said. “The unofficial theme of our at home showcase Ireland Music Week was, ‘America. We are not breaking up with you, but we are seeing other people.’”