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Review: In 'Sugar Daddy,' comedian Sam Morrison spins grief into stand-up if not quite theater

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Review: In 'Sugar Daddy,' comedian Sam Morrison spins grief into stand-up if not quite theater

In “Sugar Daddy,” comedian Sam Morrison sets out to convert tragedy into stand-up comedy. A form of self-therapy, the show (at the Wallis through Oct. 13) recounts the story of how he met the “daddy” of his dreams, only to lose him a few years later to COVID.

Morrison wasn’t necessarily looking for long-term romance when he traveled to the gay mecca of Provincetown for the Spooky Bear festival. He was certainly eager to meet men, preferably older, with large bellies and generous dispositions. But young, handsome and on vacation, he was raring to sample the menu.

“I’m a diabetic,” he explains at the top of the show. “My type is Type 1 but my type is Type 2.” He doesn’t mind if you label him a “chubby chaser,” but he’ll call you a “golden retriever” for being turned on by bones.

The production, directed by Stephen Brackett, who was nominated for a Tony for his staging of “A Strange Loop,” features an egg-like object on Arnulfo Maldonado’s set. This odd-shaped sculpture transforms through Alex Basco Koch’s video design into a massive hairy belly that Morrison rubs affectionately. He likes what he likes, and if you think his taste is weird, he finds conventional heterosexuality to be even weirder.

His meet-cute with Jonathan is assisted by a Category 3 hurricane. Morrison was staying in a hammock on a campground that was good for an orgy but not ideal for a natural disaster. He needed shelter, which meant that he needed to find a hook-up before the bars closed.

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Surely there must be a lonely bear willing to rescue a 20-something fetishist in distress. But before Morrison knew it, the clubs had closed and he was stranded under a metal awning at a pizzeria in a state of growing panic. “I’m an anxious, asthmatic, ADHD, gay, diabetic Jew,” he shrieks, repeating the list so that the audience can register the gravity of the situation.

Salvation comes when a man slams into him. Morrison was about to scream but changes his mind when he saw how good-looking the guy was. “You’re the hottest daddy in Ptown,” he said with a drunken effusiveness that earned him an invitation to a tiny Airbnb.

Nora Ephron probably wouldn’t haven’t been tempted to turn this story into a rom-com. The transactional nature of the affair isn’t especially heartwarming. The words “old” and “fat,” while spoken lustfully by Morrison in his setup, reflect a pattern of mind that reduces gay people to physical and sexual stereotypes. Morrison, who punctuates lines with the exclamation “slay!,” sounds at times like Grindr sprung to life.

The Wallis presents “Sugar Daddy” starring comedian Sam Morrison.

(Jason Williams)

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Despite their many differences, the two men start dating in New York. Jonathan worships Liza while Morrison idolizes Lizzo, but they both love to laugh and have sex, and what more does a couple need?

When Jonathan suggests that Morrison move into his apartment, Morrison gets cold feet. But a few months later, after COVID upended the world, they decided to quarantine at Morrison’s grandmother’s house in Rockland County, N.Y. Hiding out with his older lover at his grandmother’s during a global crisis seems like a ripe opportunity for comedy, but Morrison doesn’t give us many details other than that they developed their own affectionate form of nonsense talk.

As tensions arose a few months into their confinement, they took off for a now eerily empty Provincetown. The exact chronology of events is blurred by the way Morrison jumps around in time, but when Jonathan tests positive for COVID, no one suspects that in two weeks he’ll be on a ventilator.

“Sugar Daddy” does something that I haven’t seen much despite the extraordinary number of COVID deaths. It makes a record of one person’s sudden loss.

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Jonathan is lovingly remembered, though his portrait is only sketched. Morrison misses his late partner’s gigantic belly laugh that would engulf everything in its orbit. The first time he heard it, Morrison assumed that Jonathan was on Molly, but he was just naturally high on humor.

Morrison’s observations of Jonathan take the form of quips. We’re told that Jonathan liked to order “no less than 400 appetizers for the table” when out with friends and that he left a generous mound of ashes that was easily divided by loved ones. Not wanting to be maudlin, Morrison sometimes comes off as shallow.

He is determined to stay true to his stand-up calling. Everything is fair game for laughs, including his glucose monitor, which in an interesting twist turns out to be a legacy of his relationship (and the unexpected meaning behind the show’s title).

There’s talk of “Sugar Daddy” moving to Broadway. The show is presented by some high-powered names, including Alan Cumming and Billy Porter. But comedy is subjective: What one person may find a laugh riot, another may dismiss as grating attention-seeking.

A self-described “millennial comedian,” Morrison doesn’t strike me as the cleverest crafter of jokes. He doesn’t have Hannah Gadsby’s verbal finesse, Alex Edelman’s zeitgeist radar or Mike Birbiglia’s off-beat wryness.

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The strained delivery of punchlines made me wonder if Morrison had honed his stand-up act in noisy gay clubs over drink orders. I’m touched by his story and applaud his resilience, but “Sugar Daddy” didn’t provoke many memorable belly laughs from this sympathetic critic.

‘Sugar Daddy’

Where: Wallis Annenberg Center for the Performing Arts, Lovelace Studio Theater, 9390 N. Santa Monica Blvd., Beverly Hills

When: Check the theater for schedule. Ends Oct. 13

Tickets: Start at $35

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Contact: (310) 746-4000 or TheWallis.org

Running time: 1 hour, 10 minutes (no intermission )

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Movie Reviews

‘Hoppers’ review: Who can argue with hilarious talking animals?

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‘Hoppers’ review: Who can argue with hilarious talking animals?

Just when you think Pixar’s petting-zoo cute new movie “Hoppers” is flagrantly ripping off James Cameron, the characters come clean.


movie review

HOPPERS

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Running time: 105 minutes. Rated PG (action/peril, some scary images and mild language). In theaters March 6.

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“You guys, this is like ‘Avatar’!,” squeals 19-year-old Mabel (Piper Curda), the studio’s rare college-age heroine. 

Shoots back her nutty professor, Dr. Fairfax (Kathy Kajimy): “This is nothing like ‘Avatar!’”

Sorry, Doc, it definitely is. And that’s fine. Placing the smart sci-fi story atop an animated family film feels right for Pixar, which has long fused the technological, the fantastical and the natural into a warm signature blend. Also, come on, “Avatar” is “Dances With Wolves” via “E.T.”

What separates “Hoppers” from the pack of recent Pix flix, which have been wholesome as a church bake sale, is its comic irreverence. 

Director Daniel Chong’s original movie is terribly funny, and often in an unfamiliar, warped way for the cerebral and mushy studio. For example, I’ve never witnessed so many speaking characters be killed off in a Pixar movie — and laughed heartily at their offings to boot.

What’s the parallel to Pandora? Mabel, a budding environmental activist, has stumbled on a secret laboratory where her kooky teachers can beam their minds into realistic robot animals in order to study them. They call the devices “hoppers.”  

In Pixar’s “Hoppers,” a teen girl discovers a secret device that can turn her into a talking beaver. AP

Bold and fiery Mabel — PETA, but palatable — sees an opportunity. 

The mayor of Beaverton, Jerry (Jon Hamm), plans to destroy her beloved local pond that’s teeming with wildlife to build an expressway. And the only thing stopping the egomaniacal pol — a more upbeat version of President Business from “The Lego Movie” — is the water’s critters, who have all mysteriously disappeared. 

So, Mabel avatars into beaver-bot, and sets off in search of the lost creatures to discover why they’ve left.

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From there, the movie written by Jesse Andrews (“Luca”) toys with “Toy Story.” Here’s what mischief fuzzy mammals, birds, reptiles and insects get up to when humans aren’t snooping around. Dance aerobics, it turns out. 

Mabel (Piper Curda) meets King George (Bobby Moynihan). AP

Per the usual, “Hoppers” goes deep inside their intricate society. The beasts have a formal political system of antagonistic “Game of Thrones”-like royal houses. The most menacing are the Insect Queen (Meryl Streep — I’d call her a chameleon, but she’s playing a bug), a staunch monarch butterfly and her conniving caterpillar kid (Dave Franco). They’re scheming for power. 

Perfectly content with his station is Mabel’s new best furry friend King George (Bobby Moynihan), a gullible beaver who ascended to the throne unexpectedly. He happily enforces “pond rules,” such as, “When you gotta eat, eat.”   

That means predators have free rein to nosh on prey, and everybody’s cool with it. Because of bone-dry deliveries, like exhausted office drones, the four-legged cast members are hilarious as they go about their Animal Planet activities. 

Mayor Jerry (Jon Hamm) plans to destroy a local pond to build an expressway. AP

No surprise — talking lizards, sharks, bears, geese and frogs are the real stars here. They far outshine Mabel, even when she dons beaver attire. Much like a 19-year-old in a job interview, she doesn’t leave much of an impression. 

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Yes, the teen has a heartfelt motivation: The embattled pond was her late grandma’s favorite place. Mabel promised her that she’d protect it. 

But in personality she doesn’t rank as one of Pixar’s most engaging leads, perhaps because she’s past voting age. Mabel is nestled in a nebulous phase between teenage rebellion and adulthood that’s pretty blasé, even if a touch of tension comes from her hiding her Homo sapien identity from her new diminutive pals. When animated, kids make better adventurers, plain and simple.

AP

“Hoppers” continues Pixar’s run of humble, charming originals (“Luca,” “Elio”) in between billion-dollar-grossing, idea-starved sequels (“Inside Out 2,” probably “Toy Story 5”). The Disney-owned studio’s days of irrepressible innovation and unmatched imagination are well behind it. No one’s awed by anything anymore. “Coco,” almost 10 years ago, was their last new property to wow on the scale of peak Pixar.

Look, the new movie is likable and has a brain, heart and ample laughs. That’s more than I can say for most family fare. “A Minecraft Movie” made me wanna hop right out of the theater.

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Ulysses Jenkins, Los Angeles artist and pioneer of Black experimental video, dies at 79

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Ulysses Jenkins, Los Angeles artist and pioneer of Black experimental video, dies at 79

Ulysses Jenkins, the pioneering Los Angeles-born video artist whose avant-garde compositions embodied Black experimentalism, has died. He was 79.

Jenkins’ death was confirmed by his alma mater Otis College, where he studied under renowned painter and printmaker Charles White in the late 1970s and returned as an instructor years later. The Los Angeles art and design school shared a statement from the Charles White Archive, which said, “Jenkins had a profound impact on contemporary art and media practices.”

“A trailblazing figure in Black experimental video, he was widely recognized for works that used image, sound, and cultural iconography to examine representation, race, gender, ritual, history, and power,” the statement said.

A self-proclaimed “griot,” Jenkins throughout his decades-spanning career maintained an art practice grounded in the tradition of those West African oral historians who came before him. Through archival documentaries like “The Nomadics” and surrealist murals like “1848: Bandaide,” he leveraged alternative media to challenge Eurocentric representations of Black Americans in popular culture.

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He was both an artist and a storyteller who sought to “reassert the history and the culture,” he told The Times in 2022. That year, the Hammer Museum presented Jenkins’ first major retrospective, “Ulysses Jenkins: Without Your Interpretation.”

“Early video art was about the problems with the media that we are still having today: the notions of truth,” Jenkins said. “To that extent, early video art was a construct that was anti-media … a critical analysis of the media that we were viewing every night.”

Born in 1946 to Los Angeles transplants from the South, Jenkins was ambivalent about the city, which offered his parents some refuge from the blatant systemic racism they encountered in their hometowns, but housed an entertainment industry that had long perpetuated anti-Black sentiment.

“What Hollywood represents, especially in my work, is the classic plantation mentality,” Jenkins told The Times in 1986. “Although people aren’t necessarily enslaved by it, people enslave themselves to it because they’re told how fantastic it is to help manifest these illusions for a corporate sponsor.”

Jenkins, who participated in a group of artists committed to spontaneous action called Studio Z, was naturally drawn to video art over Hollywood filmmaking. “I can address any issue and I don’t have to wait for [the studios’] big OK. I thought this was a land of freedom, and video allows me that freedom and opportunity that I can create for myself and at least feel that part of being an American,” he said.

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Jenkins went on to deconstruct Hollywood’s vision of the Black diaspora in experimental video compositions including “Mass of Images,” which incorporates clips from D.W. Griffith’s notoriously racist “The Birth of a Nation,” and “Two-Tone Transfer,” which depicts, in Jenkins’ words, a “dreamscape in which the dreamer awakens to a visitation of three minstrels who tell the story of the development of African American stereotypes in the American entertainment industry.”

Jenkins’ legacy is not only artistic but institutional, with the luminary having held teaching appointments at UCSD and UCI, where he co-founded the digital filmmaking minor with fellow Southern California-based artists Bruce Yonemoto and Bryan Jackson.

As artist and educator Suzanne Lacy penned in her social media tribute to Jenkins, which showed him speaking to students at REDCAT in L.A., “he has been an important part of our histories here in Southern California as video and performance artists evolved their practices.”

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Review | Hoppers: Pixar’s new animation is a hilarious, heartfelt animal Avatar

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Review | Hoppers: Pixar’s new animation is a hilarious, heartfelt animal Avatar

4/5 stars

Bounding into cinemas just in time for spring, the latest Pixar animation is a pleasingly charming tale of man vs nature, with a bit of crazy robot tech thrown in.

The star of Hoppers is Mabel Tanaka (voiced by Piper Curda), a young animal-lover leading a one-girl protest over a freeway being built through the tranquil countryside near her hometown of Beaverton.

Because the freeway is the pet project of the town’s popular mayor, Jerry (Jon Hamm), who is vying for re-election, Mabel’s protests fall on deaf ears.

Everything changes when she stumbles upon top-secret research by her biology professor, Dr Sam Fairfax (Kathy Najimy), that allows for the human consciousness to be linked to robotic animals. This lets users get up close and personal with other species.

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“This is like Avatar,” Mabel coos, and, in truth, it is. Plugged into a headset, Mabel is reborn inside a robotic beaver. She plans to recruit a real beaver to help populate the glade, which is set to be destroyed by Jerry’s proposed road.
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