Lifestyle
Pioneering ballerina Michaela DePrince dies at 29
Michaela DePrince performs Giselle with the English National ballet in London on Jan. 13, 2017.
Ian Gavan/Getty Images
hide caption
toggle caption
Ian Gavan/Getty Images
Ballerina Michaela Mabinty DePrince, an inspirational and pioneering figure in the dance world, has died at age 29 of undisclosed causes.
Her death was announced via her Instagram by a spokesperson on Friday. “Her unwavering commitment to her art, her humanitarian efforts, and her courage in overcoming unimaginable challenges will forever inspire us,” read the caption.
Her siblings also released a statement on Facebook, noting her influence as a dancer: “Her passion and impact on the dance world, especially in inspiring young Black dancers to pursue their dreams, has been tremendous.”
DePrince, born Mabinty Bangura in Sierra Leone, lost both her parents as a toddler during the country’s civil war. Her passion for dance began early. In her memoir, Taking Flight, she writes that she danced in her “bare toes in the mud” during the rainy season.
During her time at an orphanage, she remembered being called “the devil’s child” because of vitiligo, a condition that left patches of her skin without pigmentation, the BBC reported in 2012. At age four, an American family adopted her and she moved to New Jersey, where she started taking ballet lessons.
From a young age, she captivated audiences with her appearance in the ballet documentary, First Position. DePrince’s mother, Elaine DePrince, made most of her daughter’s costumes at that time, NPR reported in 2012.
DePrince made her professional debut with the Joburg Ballet in South Africa and then became the youngest principal dancer at the Dance Theatre of Harlem. In 2021, she joined Boston Ballet as a second soloist. She appeared on the TV show Dancing With The Stars and performed in Beyoncé’s music video album, Lemonade. DePrince was also an ambassador of War Child, a nonprofit that helps children living in war-affected countries.
In an Instagram post, ballet dancer Misty Copeland remembers DePrince as “a prodigious talent” who remained determined even when told “ ‘the world wasn’t ready for Black ballerinas’ or that ‘Black ballerinas weren’t worth investing money in.’ ”
In the statement announcing her death, DePrince is described as “a beacon of hope for many, showing that no matter the obstacles, beauty and greatness can rise from the darkest of places.”
Lifestyle
‘Alice and Steve’ might be a mess — but it’s also too fun to stop watching
In Alice and Steve, Jemaine Clement and Nicola Walker play long-time friends who turn on each other after he gets involved with her 26-year-old daughter.
Lara Cornell/Disney+
hide caption
toggle caption
Lara Cornell/Disney+
I grew up watching episodic shows on network TV, nearly all of them formulaic but some indelibly great. Then, like everyone else, I moved into the days of what my colleague David Bianculli dubbed Platinum TV, where series like The Sopranos and The Wire and Fleabag aspired to something higher. What both these eras had in common was that their shows were carefully crafted — they had an internal logic, and a tone, that held them together.
In recent years, though, there’s been a proliferation of shows that, possibly obeying some algorithm, care less for coherence than sensation. They lurch among tones, from cuteness to sentimentality to meanness, stirring in random plot twists along the way. Bouncing all over the emotional map, these shows depend on compelling actors and a few memorable scenes to make us overlook their loose construction.
A great example is Alice and Steve, an entertaining but sometimes exasperating six-part British comedy on Hulu about two 50-something best friends who turn on each other after he gets involved with her 26-year-old daughter.


While the premise is juicy, it’s also a tad yucky, and I mainly tuned in because its title characters are played by performers Jemaine Clement from Flight of the Conchords and Nicola Walker, whom I’ve raved up on this show more than once.
The series starts poorly with Steve and Alice going on a cutesy bender after a friend’s funeral. Now, I always hate drunk scenes, which are an invitation to overact. As Clement and Walker bray their lines, we learn that Steve’s a divorced celebrity hair stylist who can’t find a girlfriend while Alice is a clothes designer with a doting younger husband, nicely played by Joel Fry, a sweetie-pie of a teenage son — that’s Tyrese Eaton-Dyce — and, of course, that 26-year-old daughter, Izzy, who has inherited her mother’s willfulness. Played by Yali Topol Margalith, Izzy kickstarts the plot by flirting with Steve. Predictably, he succumbs.

Almost immediately, they think they’re in love. While the weak-willed Steve wants to hide their romance — he knows it’s inappropriate — Izzy just blurts out the facts to her mom. Alice flips. And from hereon out in this series where the women are as alpha as the men are hangdog, Alice drives the action. Betrayed and violently angry, she’ll do whatever it takes to break them up — no matter who gets hurt. Her antics unleash Steve’s own malice. We’re in Beef territory.
At its core, Alice and Steve hinges on the way that platonic friendships are often richer and more powerful than romantic ones. It’s a fascinating subject, which may be why I found the script by Sophie Goodhart so frustrating. I wanted her to dig deeper. While the show’s got some very funny bits — Alice’s sharp-tongued mother is a blast — it’s often annoyingly lax.

If Steve really does the hair of Charli XCX, how come he’s a clueless older guy whose pop culture references are Willie Nelson and Woody Allen? If Izzy truly adores her mother as she claims, why does she keep rubbing her relationship with Steve in her mom’s face? Halfway through, one character nukes the other’s career, but this life-shattering event has no real weight: It’s barely even mentioned for the rest of the series.
That said, Alice and Steve is worth seeing for scenes like the one in which Steve spinelessly sells Izzy out or the lacerating discussion between Alice and her husband when he fully grasps that he adores a woman who views him as a reliable but dull concierge, not a man she likes hanging with. Most touching of all may be the lovely sequence when Alice, wise for once, smooths a romantic crisis between her son and his would-be girlfriend, a pair who are the show’s emblem of hope. For once, we understand why people love her.

While most viewers will find Steve more likable than Alice — the show takes pains not to make him appear predatory or creepy — the role doesn’t give Clement a whole lot to do except play variations on shambolic dread and discomfort. The show gets its galvanizing zing from Walker, a beloved star in England with amazing, luminous eyes. Her Alice is the kind of complicated, volcanic heroine that you don’t see in movies and rarely see on TV, one who shows her apocalyptic rage freely and in many different forms.
At least once in every episode, something would lead me to say, “Man, is this show a mess.” But that wasn’t a deal breaker. I kept watching. After all, life is messy, too.

Lifestyle
How to enter your Sporty Spice era : It’s Been a Minute
How to enter your Sporty Spice era.
Getty Images/quantic69/Olga Kurbatova/Anastasiia Zvonary/Photo Illustration by NPR
hide caption
toggle caption
Getty Images/quantic69/Olga Kurbatova/Anastasiia Zvonary/Photo Illustration by NPR
Reality dating and professional sports are not as different as you’d think.
Brittany is in her Sporty Spice era – she watched the NBA playoffs, she’s following World Cup games, and she’s watching the New York Liberty play their WNBA season. These games are daily – and so is the reality dating show Love Island. And she noticed that the two formats are not very different at all. Defector.com staff writer and co-owner Kelsey McKinney came to the same conclusion – so the two of them discuss why these games of athleticism and love can bring us together… and why they get valued differently in our culture.
For more episodes on sports and reality TV, check out:
Get rich or die trying: how sports betting is changing our love of the game
Is this the end of reality TV?
The ugly truth of America’s expensive homes
Support Public Media. Join NPR Plus.
Follow Brittany on Instagram: @bmluse
This episode was produced by Liam McBain. It was edited by Neena Pathak. Our Supervising Producer is Cher Vincent. Our Executive Producer is Barton Girdwood. Our VP of Programming is Yolanda Sangweni.
Lifestyle
Luxury Clients Want Meaning More Than Status
-
Los Angeles, Ca26 minutes agoL.A. man who violently crashed into Border Patrol agents sentenced to 5 years in prison
-
Detroit, MI44 minutes agoFans pack Detroit’s Campus Martius for USA-Belgium World Cup match
-
San Francisco, CA56 minutes agoTerrified passengers film Waymo autonomous vehicle driving into live fireworks in San Francisco
-
Dallas, TX59 minutes agoWATCH: USA vs. Belgium watch party at FIFA Fan Festival Dallas
-
Miami, FL1 hour agoTim Hardaway Jr. returns home as Miami Heat sign veteran guard:
-
Boston, MA1 hour ago‘Enough is enough’: Weekend violence in Boston sparks calls for change, from more police to community investment – The Boston Globe
-
Denver, CO1 hour agoKalshi Promo Code DENVER: Trade $10, Get $10 World Cup Bonus for USA-Belgium – Denver Stiffs
-
Seattle, WA1 hour agoFans take over Seattle for USA-Belgium World Cup match