Connect with us

Entertainment

Shakespeare's 'The Tempest' illuminates an existential truth revealed by the Los Angeles fires

Published

on

Shakespeare's 'The Tempest' illuminates an existential truth revealed by the Los Angeles fires

The sprawling geography of Los Angeles is hard to envision for those who live outside the region. Friends and family members in New York, gripped by apocalyptic images of the fires in 24/7 news reports, have had difficulty accepting that I live far enough away from the hills and the coast to be relatively safe.

“Still OK?” is the text I’ve been answering daily. “Yes, I’m still safe,” I reply, which is truer than I’m still OK, for how can anyone be OK knowing that just a few miles away, people are grieving the loss of their homes, belongings and communities?

The Beverly Hills Flats has become my default home, and it’s here where I’ve been getting reports on the devastating fires. The smoke has been insidious yet manageable with a mask. Facebook posts from acquaintances and former colleagues who have been evacuated or lost homes have brought the situation nearer to me, but it’s hard to imagine the scale of such suffering when you haven’t experienced the destruction firsthand.

Shakespeare helps me envisage the unimaginable, and a speech from “The Tempest” has been running through my mind since images of charred sections of Pacific Palisades and Altadena started circulating. In Act 4, Prospero, the former Duke of Milan who has been exiled to a desert island with daughter Miranda, and his magic book, interrupts his revenge scheme to conjure a supernatural theatrical pageant in honor of the engagement of Miranda and Ferdinand, the son of the king of Naples.

The masque, performed by gentle spirits, enchants the betrothed. But Prospero is jolted into an awareness that Caliban and his confederates are plotting “a foul conspiracy” against his life, and he abruptly ends the show.

Advertisement

“Our revels now are ended,” he tells a dismayed-looking Ferdinand. “These our actors/(As I foretold you) were all spirits, and/Are melted into air, into thin air.”

The lines that Prospero speaks next have been echoing in me with the persistence of an earworm as I have tried to mentally put myself in the place of fellow Angelenos whose homes and neighborhoods have suddenly been erased.

“And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-cappped towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve,
And like this insubstantial pageant faded
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on; and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.”

Shakespeare was accustomed to making the stage a metaphor for life. “All the world’s a stage,/ and all the men and women merely players,” Jaques declares in “As You Like It,” and his melancholy set piece reflects a standard Elizabethan trope that Shakespeare as a man of the theater couldn’t resist.

But in “The Tempest,” Shakespeare takes this proposition a step further, directly equating the ephemeral conjurations of the theater with the transient reality of the audience. Metaphor become actual. The world offstage is no different from the world onstage, no matter the differences in duration. Impermanence is the common denominator.

Advertisement

Those gorgeous palaces and solemn temples, along with the planet itself and all who inhabit it, shall one day disappear and leave not a rack (or “wisp of cloud,” as “The Riverside Shakespeare” defines the word) behind. Prospero’s mind is understandably vexed, but the losses he’s already endured have sharpened his vision.

“We are such stuff as dreams are made on” is a Shakespearean maxim emblazoned on T-shirts and trotted out in high school yearbooks, but the greeting card sentiment can stand only if the line isn’t quoted in full. The notion of our little lives surrounded by sleep is too death-haunted for Hallmark. But those whose lives have been upended by the fires can attest to the truth of what Shakespeare is describing.

A home is first and foremost a shelter designed to protect from the vicissitudes of nature. We are reminded of this basic function when there’s been a failure during a natural disaster. But the spiritual and symbolic aspects of where we live are as vital as the practical protections these lodgings afford.

A home is, after all, a private stage set, imbued with meaning by those who live there. And a neighborhood is made up of a collection of homes, businesses and civic trusts that extend the private imaginings of individuals to the broader community.

These dwellings and districts are indeed compounded of dreams, and all of us know how destabilizing it can be when we move and box up these hopes and fantasies. I moved five times in my first nine years in L.A., and each move brought intimations of mortality that were more unsettling than the physical work of setting up a new home.

Advertisement

As a renter, I don’t perhaps have the same sense of rootedness that those who have invested a portion of their life savings into home ownership. But a recent dispatch on the Los Angeles fires by the Irish writer Colm Tóibín in the London Review of Books helped me understand more personally how the fires jeopardize not only real estate but also identities.

Writing from Highland Park, Tóibín concludes his report with a sad anecdote on the library of iconoclastic writer Gary Indiana that arrived in Los Angeles from New York on Jan. 7. The books were ultimately headed to an artist residence in Altadena.

If the collection “— the signed editions, the rare art books, the weird books, the books Gary treasured — had come a day later, there would have been no address to deliver them to, so they would have been saved. But on that Tuesday, unfortunately, there was still an address.”

Last year, I inherited a library of books from theater critic Gordon Rogoff, a colleague of Indiana’s at the Village Voice. The welcome addition of my mentor’s library compelled me to add more shelves to my already book-crammed apartment.

If I lost my furniture, clothes and apartment, I’d obviously be thrown into a state of emergency. But if I lost my books, I wouldn’t know who I was. It’s how I’ve defined myself as an adult making my way in the world.

Advertisement

The grief of those bearing witness to the fires is more than sympathy. We’ve all been given a shocking lesson in the “baseless fabric of this vision” we call reality but which Prospero recognizes is no more solid than a dream.

Shakespeare, however, doesn’t leave his audience in despair. The play ends with an epilogue in which the protagonist addresses the audience directly, a not uncommon practice in Shakespearean comedy. But in this late romance, as Shakespeare critic Anne Barton has pointed out, Prospero remains in character, courteously asking the audience for release from the island so that he can return to his dukedom.

By the grace of the audience, the play can continue offstage. The material world may be vulnerable to disaster. But our lives are the product of imagination, and that is a zone no inferno can touch.

Advertisement

Movie Reviews

Unpaarvayil Movie Review: A By-The-Book Psycho Thriller That’s Blind To Its Flaws

Published

on

Unpaarvayil Movie Review: A By-The-Book Psycho Thriller That’s Blind To Its Flaws
0

The Times of India

TNN, Jan 13, 2026, 1:24 PM IST

2.0

Un Paarvayil Movie Synopsis: When her twin sister dies under mysterious circumstances, Bhavya goes on a hunt to find the murderer, but the fight isn’t easy as she loses her vision.Un Paarvayil Movie Review: The opening sequence of Un Paarvayil reminds one of a few finely written scenes from films about twins like Charulatha (2012) or Thadam (2019) where we learn about their special bond. In Un Paarvayil, Bhavya (played by Parvati Nair) gets on stage to receive the Best Business Woman award. Parallely, her twin, Dhivya (also played by Parvati Nair), is stuck in a dangerous situation. As the latter faces difficulty, Bhavya, who is on stage, also feels like she is being choked and struggles to breathe – an instant telepathy of sorts that suggests her sister is in danger. Without a lot of words or too many scenes, this one sequence conveys the bond between the sisters Bhavya and Dhivya. However, this narrative creativity is never seen on screen again throughout the film’s run time.Everything about Un Paarvayil is right on paper. With a textbook formula, Un Paarvayil has the right recipe for a psycho thriller – a scary bungalow, a loving but mysterious husband, and a psycho killer. But that’s about it. The stage is set, writing is done, and actors deliver the dialogues, but these don’t come together cohesively. In most scenes, the dialogue delivery is bland, and the writing becomes increasingly predictable. For instance, Bhavya is informed very early on in the film that Dhivya has a best friend with whom she shares all her secrets. However, the writing is so contrived that until the last moment, Bhavya never thinks about reaching out to this friend to learn more about her sister. It’s as though Bhavya forgot that piece of the puzzle.Which is why it feels like the film suffers from progressive amnesia. For instance, at one point, it looks like the cops give lethargic explanations for a murder, but we are not sure if they are just lethargic or are partners-in-crime with the psycho killer. And we keep wondering – but we never get to know that because the film has forgotten such a sequence existed. Likewise, Bhavya learns about an important CCTV evidence and pursues it. Still, before she uncovers the truth, she begins to track down another clue, and the CCTV evidence is never mentioned again. Remember how we see the twins share a unique connection in the opening sequence? It is also depicted only once and gets forgotten. Just like this, the film keeps jumping from one sequence to another, with all the old clues left behind and forgotten, before another new clue randomly reaches Bhavya. So, the next time we find a missing puzzle, we are no longer curious about it.That said, the film did have some interesting scenes. Whenever the psycho killer is on screen, the tension rises, and we are hooked to what’s next – but such sequences are very few. By the book, it might look like the film has a perfect premise, and some really good performances from Parvati Nair and Mahendran do make things intriguing, but the film turns a blind eye to its basic cinematography and contrived writing, leaving us in the dark for the most part.

Continue Reading

Entertainment

Record exec L.A. Reid settles sexual assault lawsuit

Published

on

Record exec L.A. Reid settles sexual assault lawsuit

Record executive Antonio “L.A.” Reid has settled a sexual assault lawsuit from former employee Drew Dixon, avoiding a jury trial that was set to begin Monday.

In 2023, Dixon filed a lawsuit under the New York Adult Survivors Act, alleging abuse from Reid including sexual harassment, assault and retaliation while she worked under him as an A&R representative at Arista Records.

Dixon alleged in her suit that Reid “digitally penetrated her vulva without her consent” on a private plane in 2001, and groped and kissed her against her will in another incident months later. She claims in her suit that Reid retaliated against her after she spurned his advances, berating her in front of staff after she brought in a young Kanye West for a label audition.

Reid said in court filings that he “adamantly denies the allegations,” but they contributed to the former mogul’s declining reputation within the music industry, after Reid left Epic Records in 2017 following separate claims of harassment.

Reid’s attorney Imran H. Ansari said in a statement to The Times that “Mr. Reid has amicably resolved this matter with Ms. Dixon without any admission of liability.” Terms of the settlement were not disclosed.

Advertisement

In a statement to The Times, Dixon said that “I hope my work as an advocate for the Adult Survivors Act helps to bring us closer to a safer music business for everyone. In a world where good news is often hard to find, I hope for survivors that today is a ray of light peeking through the clouds. Music has always been my greatest source of comfort and joy. Even as a kid, I had an uncanny knack for predicting the next cool artist or album, the more eclectic the better. While I have focused on sexual assault advocacy in recent years, I have never stopped fighting for my place in this industry.”

The jury trial was slated to have testimony from some high-profile figures including John Legend, whom Dixon had tried to sign to the label. Dixon also accused the Def Jam mogul Russell Simmons of sexual assault in a 2017 New York Times article and in the 2020 documentary “On The Record.”

Continue Reading

Movie Reviews

Film Review: “Primate”

Published

on

Film Review: “Primate”

Hello, dear reader! Do you like what you read here at Omnivorous? Do you like reading fun but insightful takes on all things pop culture? Do you like supporting indie writers? If so, then please consider becoming a subscriber and get the newsletter delivered straight to your inbox. There are a number of paid options, but you can also sign up for free! Every little bit helps. Thanks for reading and now, on with the show!

Warning: Full spoilers for the film follow.

I am a sucker for a good ape movie. I’ve been obsessed with Planet of the Apes for literally decades, and I continue to find apes both fascinating and more than slightly terrifying, particularly chimps. Of course, the news has been filled with stories of pet chimps (and their own owners) going amuck, as the recent series Chimp Crazy makes clear. Indeed chimps in particular are eternally coming up in our popular culture. In addition to Planet of the Apes, Jordan Peele’s Nope featured a chimp attack as a key part of its story, suggesting that our dear simian relatives are an enduring source of fear and fascination for us. They seem so understandable and yet so utterly alien, and what better way to make sense of, or at least experience, this contradiction through the vernacular of horror?

This brings us to Primate, the new slasher film from director Johannes Roberts (who co-wrote the script with Ernest Riera). Arguably the emotional center of the story is Lucy (Johnny Sequoyah), who returns home to her family’s isolated cliffside mansion in Hawaii, where she’s reunited with her father, sister, and the family’s friendly chimp companion Ben, along with some other equally bland personalities. It soon turns out that poor Ben has been infected with rabies and, sans treatment, he soon goes on a rampage, quickly turning from cuddly and affectionate to sadistic and murderous. It’s all Lucy and her sister and the rest of the gang can do to stay alive (spoiler alert: almost none of them make it out alive).

Primate is undeniably gripping. Roberts is a skilled visual stylist, and he has a keen command of space, lighting, and sound. A number of wide shots show us just how isolated the family home is from anywhere around, situated on a bluff that offers no easy escape once Ben becomes murderous, while dim lighting effectively creates a nightmare landscape from one which our protagonists cannot escape. Of equal note is an unsettling scene in which Ben presses his face up against some distorting glass, creating a nightmarish image that will stick with you as his murderous rage grows. Even props have their part to play, from the speech device that Ben uses to convey his feelings–which becomes ironic later in the film–to a broken chair that becomes key to his demise. Adrian Johnston’s soundtrack, likewise, helps to keep your nerves constantly jangled as you wait for the next bout of slaughter to unfold, and I appreciated a scene in which Lucy’s deaf father, played by Troy Kotsur, returns home, even as the film muffles sounds so we inhabit his deafness. The juxtaposition of silence with Ben’s renewed attacks on Lucy is quite effective.

Advertisement

In my opinion, every horror movie worth its salt has one kill that’s both exceptionally gnarly and also deeply disturbing, and in this regard Primate does not disappoint. The unfortunate victim in this case is Drew, one of the dude-bros from the airplane that Lucy and her friends meet right at the beginning who, upon encountering Ben in the bedroom, has his jaw ripped right off. There’s something almost poignant about the way his eyes continue to dart around, filled with an anguished knowledge that death is imminent as he chokes on his own blood. It’s also bleakly funny, as Ben, seeming to sense his victim’s dismay and to find humor in it, uses the detached jaw to mock his anguished gurgling and then, as if that weren’t enough, almost seeming to try to reattach the torn-off jaw (the resulting sound of teeth clacking against bone is viscerally unsettling). It’s a brilliantly-executed piece of horror cinema and this scene alone was worth the price of admission, though I did find myself wishing we had more scenes like this, as perverse as that sounds.

As other critics have noted, the script is at times a bit too lean, particularly when it comes to giving these characters or even providing much insight into Ben as a character prior to his infection. It’s not that this is necessarily a requirement, but as a fan of both chimps and Planet of the Apes, I kept hoping for at least some gesture toward helping us to feel the barest bit of sympathy for Ben, a creature brought into the human world and then turned into a monster by a force he has no control over. Fortunately, there are at least a few moments when we see the anguish he’s in, and there are even some signs he knows something is wrong, even if he can’t quite comprehend why he’s now filled with such murderous rage.

When it comes down to it, there’s just something uniquely terrifying and appealing about chimps, which helps to explain why we keep returning to them again and again in popular culture. As one of our closest living relatives–and as some of the most intelligent nonhuman animals–they hover in a strange liminal space, both eerily like and unlike us. This is particularly true in a film like Primate, which relies on practical effects and puppetry rather than CGI (except for some moments). Miguel Torres Umba does a fantastic job inhabiting Ben, and the practical effects may not make Ben into as realistic an ape as, say, Caesar from Planet of the Apes, but he’s definitely more terrifying. For all that he’s a killing machine, there are glimmers of a not-quite-human intelligence lurking behind those eyes, which is precisely what makes him such a dangerous enemy once the rabies-induced madness starts to take over.

And that, ultimately, is the irony of Ben going mad. As the tragic case of Charla Nash made clear back in 2009, even the tamest and most human-acculturated chimps are only one mild disturbance or moment from tearing a person apart. Even though the film doesn’t go too deeply into Ben’s backstory, there’s enough there to glean that he was, for all intents and purposes, raised as a human, and there are just enough glimpses of who he was to make us feel the pangs of sympathy for this creature forced to live in a human world for which is so manifestly ill-suited. Just like Travis, he’s a bit of the untamed wild just waiting to destroy the fragile human family and the civilization built atop it.

Primate is one of those genre-horror flicks that wears its influences on its sleeve, and one can see strands of everything from Cujo to “The Murders of the Rue Morgue”in its plot, themes, and execution. Its success owes much to Roberts’ skills as a filmmaker, his ability to take tried and true elements of the genre and use them in ways that hold us rapt and make us grip the arms of our chairs in terror. This film burrows deep in your brain and doesn’t let go, and I can’t wait to see what Roberts has in store for us next.

Advertisement
Continue Reading

Trending