Entertainment
Bill Viola, pioneer video artist who explored nature of human consciousness, dies at 73
Artist Bill Viola, whose pioneering work with video since the 1970s opened the door to what would become a major artform internationally, died Friday at his home in Long Beach after a long struggle with early-onset Alzheimer’s disease, according to his wife and artistic partner, Kira Perov. He was 73.
Diagnosed in 2012, he had entered hospice care in October 2020. Viola curtailed his ambitious international practice the year before.
Using video technology, the artist had explored the nature of human consciousness — of what it is, how it operates, what it can endure or truly know. For the next four decades his art would be an extended exploration of the ancient conundrum.
“There are no answers to life or death,” Viola once explained of his aspirations for his art. “I think mystery is the most important aspect of my work. That moment when we open a door and close it without knowing where we’re going.”
In 1985, Viola’s “The Theater of Memory” became the first installation with a major video element to be included along with traditional painting and sculpture in New York’s Whitney Biennial, then the premier survey of new developments in American art.
The projected video is a dreamlike cloud of gray visual static — the vertical rolls, snow and other interference normally banished from a television screen in the living room. Momentary pictures emerge from the crackling cloud and then sink back — a girl walking, a simple clapboard building, a hand holding a teacup, a car careening over a steep embankment and more. No logical narrative materializes.
The installation, which the artist described as “a psychic landscape” meant to evoke the processes of memory, was acquired in 1988 by the Newport Harbor Art Museum (now the Orange County Museum of Art). A year before, the newly opened Museum of Contemporary Art in Los Angeles had acquired Viola’s “Room for St. John of the Cross,” a noisy evocation of spiritual disruptions in modern life as prophesied by a 16th century Spanish mystic.
The work incorporates as primary components both a mural-size video projection on the wall and a miniature color TV monitor sequestered inside a tiny, monastic, cell-like shack. That fall, the installation was a centerpiece in a selection of Viola’s installations and single-channel videotapes that became the first major exhibition at New York’s Museum of Modern Art to feature an artist who worked primarily with the mediums of video and sound.
This heady rush of “firsts” for American video art peaked in 1989 when Viola was awarded a MacArthur Fellowship. Only four subsequent artists working extensively with video have been chosen for the program, nicknamed the “genius grant,” in its 40-year history. In fewer than five years, Viola, then 38, had become the artist perhaps most instrumental for bringing video installation art into the mainstream of American cultural life, where today it is commonplace and occupies a central position.
Viola was born in Queens, N.Y., on Jan. 25, 1951, making him a card-carrying member of the first generation in global history to grow up bathed in the queer blue light of TV. When he was 18, his choice of Syracuse University as an art school destination proved fateful. Video art was taking off following the late-1960s invention of portable — and affordable — television recording equipment for personal use. Viola had enrolled at the school in Upstate New York to study painting, but the region was becoming a center for experimentation with the new video medium.
At the Experimental Television Center in nearby Binghamton, video pioneers Nam June Paik and Shuya Abe built a sophisticated electronic synthesizer, capable of layering, multiplying or dividing a mixture of live and recorded digital imagery into complex moving collages. Critic Bruce Kurtz, teaching in Oneonta, began writing about the new television artform for Arts Magazine, launched with the influential essay “Video Is Being Invented.”
At Syracuse’s Everson Museum of Art, director James Harithas, a supporter of all things artistically novel, hired David Ross as the museum world’s first curator of video art. Viola snagged a part-time job there as a technician and exhibition preparator, and he would have his first exhibition at the Everson in 1973. At school, he overlapped with Paul Schimmel, a young student studying museum studies and art history who would later become chief curator at Newport and MOCA.
Viola also performed in avant-garde composer David Tudor’s germinal musical production “Rainforest.” Presented at the Everson, the sound installation was constructed from such everyday objects as a metal barrel, a glass jar and plastic tubing, all suspended in space to amplify their resonance. Viola’s creative relationship with Tudor would continue until the composer’s death in 1996.
Important as well to shaping Viola’s emerging aesthetic was sculptor Jack Nelson, a Syracuse professor who became the young artist’s mentor. Nelson’s assemblages originated from an introspective spirituality, which he personified in a celestial character named Mr. Moon.
Bill Viola, “The Greeting,” 1995, video/sound installation.
(Kira Perov)
Viola soon took a related direction in his video art, exploring mystical and transcendent subject matter not being widely investigated in other contemporary American art. As his work deepened and matured in the 1990s, emphasizing spiritual and metaphysical inquiries, it would often find more welcoming audiences in Europe and Asia than in the United States.
After graduating from Syracuse with a bachelor of fine arts in experimental studio art, he took a post at a video workshop in Florence, Italy, for 18 months, becoming immersed in Renaissance painting and sculpture. He traveled extensively throughout the Pacific region, including Indonesia, the Solomon Islands, Northern India and Japan, where he lived and worked in 1980 and 1981. An artist-in-residence at Sony Corporation’s research laboratory outside Tokyo, Viola developed a major interest in Buddhist principles of mindfulness.
One Pacific journey brought him to Melbourne, Australia, at the invitation of Perov, then-director of cultural activities at La Trobe University. A relationship blossomed, and Perov began a lifelong collaboration with Viola on complex video and installation works.
The couple married in 1980. They settled in Long Beach, where Ross, nicknamed “Captain Video” among artists, had recently relocated from Syracuse to the Long Beach Museum of Art to launch an exhibition program and, later, establish a post-production video lab. Viola, in addition to utilizing those facilities, became artist-in-residence at Memorial Medical Center in the city, where he was able to explore new imaging technologies aimed at the study of the human body.
Mind and body connections were soon an established theme in Viola’s work. What made his art distinctive was its use of video technologies for a range of metaphors that once derived from nature. Traditional landscape was transformed into the revolutionary environment of digital imagery, where global society now lives.
Viola’s apocalyptic “Theater of Memory” installation was a watershed example. The dead tree, flamboyantly uprooted, is an overturned ruin from the natural landscape — the “blasted tree” frequently employed in 18th and 19th century European and American landscape painting to signify a disappearing concept of wilderness in the face of encroaching industrialization. Around Viola’s felled tree, lamplights of historical knowledge flicker like electrified fireflies. An artificial breeze gently wafts from an oscillating fan positioned nearby, while a gathering storm of thoughts erupts from the high technology of projected video light, crackling and popping in a primordial stew.
As with Plotinus, the Hellenistic founder of Neoplatonic philosophy, Viola’s installation proposes memory as a perceptual function that allows a human soul to acknowledge its own existence. Plotinus drew on obscure ancient Egyptian metaphysics, Viola on the esoteric technology of modern life.
Installation view, Bill Viola, “Martyrs (Earth, Air, Fire, Water),” 2014, South Quire Aisle, St Paul’s Cathedral, London.
(Peter Mallet / Bill Viola Studio)
In 1995, Viola represented the United States at the centennial of the Venice Biennale, the major international art festival in Italy. His exhibition included a hyper-slow-motion video, “The Greeting,” inspired by Mannerist painter Jacopo da Pontormo’s masterpiece “The Visitation” (1528-29), which richly intensifies a convivial interaction among three women. Dressed in flowing, brightly colored garments, two women warmly approach one another on the street as a third observes.
Bill Viola, “Martyrs (Earth, Air, Fire, Water),” 2014, high-definition video polyptych on four plasma displays.
(Peter Mallet)
Employing a stationary, high-speed 35-mm camera shooting 300 stills per second, Viola recorded the scene in one take. The event lasted just 45 seconds, but the video projection unfolds over the course of 10 minutes.
The video’s extreme slow-motion creates anticipation in a viewer, while the pictorial movement yields a desire to leisurely examine the image in a manner more akin to looking at paintings than at traditional camerawork. In 2003, Viola further explored human passions and emotional drives introduced in “The Greeting” in an exhibition at the J. Paul Getty Museum. Flatscreen videos employed imagery related to medieval, Renaissance and Baroque devotional paintings.
Fifteen large-scale video works made over 20 years were the subject of a 1997 Viola survey at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art. In a virtually unprecedented decision, the artist installed the show without a single identifying label or wall text, as museums typically require. Viola’s gesture gave priority to a viewer’s unvarnished art experience. Only at the end of the exhibition, when a visitor was leaving the museum, was an informative brochure available for further consideration.
Viola also produced work meant to be seen entirely outside the usual art context of a museum or gallery. London’s St. Paul’s Cathedral installed a commission, “Martyrs (Earth, Air, Fire and Water),” in a choir in 2014, joined two years later by the triptych “Mary.” The project is the first known example of video rather than painting or sculpture produced for permanent display as contemplative art inside a major church.
“Martyrs” features four vertical plasma screens showing silent suffering and martyrdom through the title’s four elemental forces. The second work is a triptych featuring an episodic narrative inspired by the life of the Virgin Mary but represented in cross-cultural terms of Western and Eastern religious and secular imagery. Among them is a Buddha-like woman breastfeeding an infant in the manner of a Christian Madonna and Child and posed before the Los Angeles skyline, where East and West meet. The pair of works were gifted to Tate Modern and placed on long-term loan to St. Paul’s.
In addition to Perov, Viola is survived by sons Andrei and Blake, daughter-in-law Aileen Milliman, brother Robert Viola and sister Andrea Freeman. A memorial is being planned in his honor.
Movie Reviews
Movie Review: Travolta’s “Propeller: One-Way Night Coach” is One for the Ages — All Ages
Back in the good ol’days — the ’90s — John Travolta would love to get off the topic of “Michael,” “Pulp Fiction” or “Get Shorty” in interviews with film journalists like me and regale us with how utterly besotted he had been with his first flying experience, how that drove his passion for piloting and buying planes and airfield-adjacent luxury houses.
He didn’t even seem to mind having to move house when this or that development balked at him flying his Boeing 707 out of there on the way to locations.
Travolta would tell any journalist who asked that he was writing a kid-friendly book, “Propeller: One Way Night Coach,” based on his first flights as a child in old propeller driven airliners — cheap red-eye overnight treks with too many connections for your average jet age traveller to tolerate.
I remember picking up the book when it came out later in the ’90s — at an airport gift shop — and thinking “Well, that’s as cute as I figured.”
And now, decades later and trapped in the B-movie hell of his post “Gotti” career, Travolta’s turned that cute book into the most delightful, fanciful and colorful bon bon of a movie.
“One Way Night Coach” is a child’s fantasy of flight and flying the way it used to be — with pristine, uncrowded, futuristic airports, an early ’60s era of jets and prop planes with over-uniformed stewardesses in white gloves, the days “Back before every Joe Sweatsock could wedge himself behind a lunch tray and jet off to Raleigh-Durham,” as Sideshow Bob memorably sneered on “The Simpsons’.”
It’s a fictionalized account of Travolta’s childhood about an only child (at least two Travolta siblings have bit parts in this movie) of a never-made-it/never-will actress/single-mom (Kelly Eviston-Quinnett) who indulges her aviation-obsessed eight-year-old with a cheap cross-country overnight flight.
Little Jeff (Clark Shotwell) will revel in almost every Idlewild to Pittsburgh to Dayton to Chicago to Kansas City to Denver and Los Angeles minute. He strolls into the cockpit to meet pilots, charms the stewardesses and checks out the sleeping bunks on the TWA Lockheed Super Constellation, loving even the delays if not the Chicken Cordon Bleu he’s offered on legs of the journey that offer a meal.
And as he’s an observant child, he comments (Travolta narrates) on his 50ish mother’s vamping and posing, her choice of cigarettes (Newports) and drinks, the solo traveling men whose attention she pursues and earns.
“I was her best audience,” adult Jeff remembers of the mother who’d read him plays as bedtime stories and delusionally hopes that this trip to Los Angeles might be her “big break” even though she’s pushing 50.
“Hollywood called,” she’d explain about their overnight cheap flight arrangements to ticket agents and crew. “They told me to take the next flight!”
At every turn, Jeff meets or sees kindness — stewardesses who indulge his many questions and bump them up to first class on the mostly-empty planes, a captain who fixes his toy model of a Constellation, a mentally ill flyer who flips out but is calmed by a flight attendant who isn’t overworked and frazzled in jet-powered tin-can jammed with Joe and Jane Sweatsocks who think nothing of traveling in their pajamas.
Normally, I cringe at pictures this reliant on voice-over narration. I recoil from stars who populate their picture with Sandler etc. offspring. But “Propeller” is unfailingly sweet and never cloying.
Sure, it’s fictionalized. But if you’ve followed Travolta’s life and career, a lot of him is in this — his raptoruous engagement with flying, an indulged child who developed a taste for fine food and creature comforts, a mother who was his guiding star as an actor.
I get why there are less adoring reviews than mine floating around “Propeller.” It’s unfailingly sweet. Mom’s man-hunting is seriously dated. This TWA tale is decorated with Gershwin’s majestic “Rhapsody in Blue” — United Airlines’ signature tune. And Travolta’s been around long enough for recent generations to come up and not feel a connection to the “Saturday Night Fever/Get Shorty” star whose career has fallen off and life has been visited by too much tragedy.
But I’d hate to be seated next to anybody who doesn’t appreciate this adorable, pristine and nearly perfect aviation fantasy on any flight, much less an overnight one.
Rating: TV-PG
Cast: Clark Shotwell, Kelly Eviston-Quinnett, Ellen Travolta, Ella Beau Travolta, Olga Hoffmann and John Travolta.
Credits: Scripted and directed by John Travolta, based on his book. An Apple TV+ release.
Running time: 1:01
Entertainment
After ‘Barbie’ success, Mattel looks to He-Man for another box-office lift
Three years ago, Mattel Inc. struck box-office gold — or rather, pink — with the billion-dollar success of “Barbie.”
In its first return to theaters since the female-forward phenomenon, the El Segundo toymaker is turning to the brawny He-Man for another box-office lift.
Its latest film, “Masters of the Universe,” opens this weekend, as Mattel looks to build on that previous success and continue extending its signature toy brands into the entertainment arena.
“The movie is very much in tune with culture,” said Mattel Chief Executive Ynon Kreiz. “Everything is much more contemporary relative to what was created more than 40 years ago, but it’s still very true to the origin story and to the DNA of the brand.”
The new film arrives at a pivotal time for Mattel, which is facing pressure from investors to grow its business. The maker of Hot Wheels, American Girl and Uno has recently confronted a challenging market for toys, beset by tariffs on goods produced overseas and weaker-than-expected demand for Barbie dolls and Fisher-Price preschool products.
Amid uncertainty in the toy market and the fallout from tariffs, Mattel’s net income dropped 25% to $398 million in 2025. And since the company announced disappointing holiday sales totals in February, its stock has dropped more than 30%, closing at $14.34 on Wednesday.
“Masters of the Universe” toys at Mattel headquarters in El Segundo.
(Myung J. Chun / Los Angeles Times)
The share price slide prompted investor Southeastern Asset Management to send a letter last month to Mattel leadership suggesting the toy maker should sell itself and go private. Southeastern manages about 4% of the company’s stock on behalf of its clients.
“The frustration among investors has been the fact that if you look at the business from 2021 through 2025 and even this year … the business really hasn’t grown,” said Eric Handler, a Roth Capital senior media and entertainment analyst, referring to Mattel. “This is a company that needed something fresh in the portfolio, and there’s a wide range of investments being made, of which ‘Masters of the Universe’ is one part.”
Kreiz pushed back on the idea that the company is not growing. In the fourth quarter of 2025, net sales were up 7% to $1.8 billion, though the result was not as strong as the company expected.
Mattel has spent $1.2 billion in the last three years to buy back shares, with an additional $1.5-billion share repurchase planned for the next three years.
“We’re investing in our own stock because we believe it is undervalued,” he told The Times in an interview at his office, which has floor-to-ceiling windows that give an expansive view of El Segundo. “We absolutely agree that the share price doesn’t reflect the progress that we’ve achieved over the last few years financially, operationally, our place in culture, the strength of our brands, and the continued expansion of the business. And more importantly, the potential that we have down the road.”
“Masters of the Universe” is a key variable in that equation.
Ynon Kreiz, chief executive of Mattel.
(Myung J. Chun / Los Angeles Times)
The movie, which had a budget of roughly $170 million, is expected to bring in $25 million to $35 million in the U.S. and Canada during its debut weekend. That’s a far cry from the $162-million opening haul of “Barbie,” but box-office analysts say that film captured the cultural zeitgeist in a way that’s hard to replicate.
The ‘80s-era “Masters of the Universe” is “a property that was famous with a certain group of fans, but it hasn’t had much of a pop culture presence,” said Shawn Robbins, who directs movie analytics at Fandango and founded the forecasting site Box Office Theory. The movie has notched a respectable 74% approval rating from critics on aggregator Rotten Tomatoes.
“There’s been so many callbacks to nostalgic franchises,” he said. “Some people are always on board for them, and maybe the positive reviews bring people in who were on the fence. But people are also ready for something fresh and new and exciting.”
Kreiz said he’s often asked how the company will match the success of “Barbie.”
“The answer is, we don’t need to match ‘Barbie’s’ success for movies to have a meaningful economic impact on the company,” he said. “Not every movie will be ‘Barbie.’ If we create quality content that people want to watch and create quality experiences that people are engaged with, good things happen, and these brands will resonate and will be here for years to come.”
While theatrical revenue is important, the measure of success for “Masters of the Universe” could also include its eventual reception on streaming platforms and, of course, toy sales, analysts said.
There are hundreds of products tied to the movie, from collectible action figures of Nicholas Galitzine’s He-Man and Camila Mendes’ Teela, to branded Uno decks, Legos, clothing and skateboards.
Skeletor from “Masters of the Universe.”
(Myung J. Chun / Los Angeles Times)
“For us, it’s a huge win already,” said Robbie Brenner, president of Mattel Studios and chief content officer, who also served as a producer on the film. “We have reinvigorated and relaunched this brand that has been around for decades … and done it in a way with just the best-in-class toys. Obviously that’s our bread and butter. And then to have made an epic, incredible movie … is a huge win.”
While Mattel does not yet have sales totals for its “Masters of the Universe” toys, executives said during an earnings call in late April that product sales were “growing double digits” amid strong customer demand, particularly from adults.
When Kreiz was named CEO in 2018, he saw the potential for Mattel to expand beyond toys. In an entertainment landscape dominated by known franchises and intellectual property, the former TV and media executive wanted to leverage the company’s IP in new ways to attract consumers.
Hence, Mattel has expanded into real-world experiences such as a Barbie pop-up at Coachella or a traveling Hot Wheels monster truck show. In February, the company fully acquired Mattel163 mobile game studio after buying out a stake held by Chinese tech firm NetEase. The studio has released games based on Uno, Skip-Bo and other Mattel intellectual property.
And on the film and television front, the Mattel Studios division now has 51 people — most of whom are based in El Segundo — focused on projects across platforms.
After “Masters of the Universe,” Mattel Studios plans to release a “Matchbox” streaming movie in October. The division has more than a dozen films in development that have been announced, including an American Girl movie with Paramount, Polly Pocket with Amazon MGM Studios, as well as a live-action Magic 8 Ball series from M. Night Shyamalan.
“The journey for the company was to evolve from being a toy manufacturer that was making items to become an IP company that is managing franchises,” Kreiz said. “It’s not that we’re not creating toys — it’s obviously a big part of our business — but the opportunity is to expand so much more than the physical product.”
“Masters of the Universe” was in development for years at several different studios before it was picked up by Amazon MGM.
That partnership stemmed from Mattel’s work on the “Barbie” movie with Courtenay Valenti, then president of production and development at Warner Bros. Pictures who is now head of film at Amazon MGM.
“Masters of the Universe” felt like a good property for Mattel to bet on because of its nostalgia factor and deep bench of colorful characters, from the green tiger Battle Cat to the heavily armored Ram Man and ever meme-able Skeletor, which the company hopes will attract new audiences, Brenner said.
The movie is directed by Travis Knight — chief executive of stop-motion studio Laika who also led the 2018 “Transformers” spin-off “Bumblebee” — who Brenner said “nailed” the narrative’s tone. (It didn’t hurt that Knight was already a fan of the franchise and had sported the He-Man haircut as a child.)
“It’s a property that’s kind of out there,” said Brenner, who grew up watching He-Man and his twin sister She-Ra. “It’s got all these crazy characters. But just riding that line between what is funny and kind of irreverent and then kind of heartfelt, that is a very hard thing to put in a blender and to get right.”
Movie Reviews
Movie Review: Paul Rudd and Nick Jonas hit the right notes in ‘Power Ballad’
Let’s just say that the wedding band has never occupied the most exalted rung of the ladder in music.
Playing “September” and “Celebration” is often what’s most required. As one member of the Bride and the Groove, the band at the center of John Carney’s new film, puts it: They’re not rock stars. They’re human jukeboxes.
But in “Power Ballad,” a wedding band singer and pop star cross paths. For one night, all of the stratification of the music world falls away. “Power Ballad” starts like a fairy tale.
Since 2007’s “Once,” the Irish writer-director has focused his films on the redemptive capacity of music. Carney, who was once a bassist for the Frames, knows from experience. From “Sing Street” to “Flora and Son,” he has made unabashedly earnest tales where a song, or just picking up an instrument, changes lives.
This can, undoubtedly, lead Carney into sentimental territory. Lucky for him, his chosen subject — music — is more worthy of sentiment than almost anything else. Yet the song doesn’t quite remain the same in “Power Ballad,” a movie that begins with the gentle sweetness Carney is known for, but detours into something more discordant.
Rick (Paul Rudd) is an American musician who gave up on his once-promising rock band’s future to instead live with his wife (Marcella Plunkett) and teenage daughter (a spunky, underused Beth Fallon) in Dublin. His former group was called Octagon, a perfect former band name if there ever were one.
But for years, Rick has fronted the Bride and the Groove. It’s an unromantic day job (or rather a night one) that hasn’t entirely sapped his belief in his own songwriting. During an encore at one wedding, he plays an original tune and is mentally transported to an arena full of swaying fans. When he snaps out of it, he’s staring at an empty dance floor and faces that say: That wasn’t Kool & the Gang.
At another wedding at at a castle, the band is asked to let a friend of the newlyweds sit in. They reluctantly agree, and are surprised to see the very popular boy band veteran, Danny (Nick Jonas), step on stage. He sings Stevie Wonder’s “I Wish,” and it’s great. Though Rick had just dismissed Danny’s music as “manufactured content for young, excitable teens,” he discovers Danny is a genuine musician.
But, later that night, something even more remarkable transpires. Rick bumps into Danny, and the two quickly hit it off. They begin jamming together and sharing songs that need work. They are both so jazzed by their unlikely collaboration that they play into the next morning.
The actual moment of artistic creation, and the craft it requires, is something the movies almost always skip over. But capturing collaborative juices flowing is exactly what Carney excels at. You can feel his joy in it. So it’s fitting that one of the unfinished songs Rick plays for Danny, “How to Write a Song (Without You),” is about creative invention.
It’s here when you wonder where “Power Ballad” is headed. Is this, for Rick, the beginning of a beautiful friendship? Will they turn into the next great songwriting duo, lifting Rick out of weddings and proving to the world that Danny is more than a boy-band pretty face?
That is very possibly the movie Carney might have made a decade ago. But “Power Ballad,” which he co-wrote with Peter McDonald (who also co-stars as a band member), shifts six months ahead in time. Rick is standing in a shopping mall when the familiar lyrics of “How to Write a Song” softly float through the stores. He stands dumbfounded in the gleaming halls of commerce, a befuddlement that slowly turns into outrage the bigger and bigger Danny’s smash hit grows.
“Power Ballad” loses some of its steam in its second half, which follows Rick’s struggle for justice. Making things considerably harder is that he can find no recorded demo of the song. His family and his band don’t even really believe him.
But even as the movie struggles to sustain its opening refrain, Carney’s film is always riffing on ideas of authenticity and aspiration in music. That Jonas is, himself, a former boy band star who has at times gone it alone, lends the movie a direct connection to contemporary music, where tussles over authorship are increasingly common.
Jonas has been good in other films (notably the “Jumanji” movies), but this is his most ambitious and convincing performance to date. It’s a testament to the movie that Danny’s theft isn’t a purely villainous act. He gives the song a bridge and the vocal power to take it to another level. He’s under mounting pressure from his label to deliver a hit. An executive (Jack Reynor) wants “Danny 2.0” but has little faith he can supply it.
But it’s an even more well-tailored role for Rudd. He memorably and very goofily played a bassist in the 2009 comedy “I Love You, Man.” But while he sings well, it’s not his musical chops that lift the performance. It’s more that Rick, a contented family man with unrealized rock-star dreams, gives the exceptionally genial Rudd more notes to play as an actor. Rudd makes for a very likeable everyman out to convince the world he is capable of a beautiful song.
And that’s the abiding belief of Carney’s. No matter all the struggles, the artistic injustices, the corporate hegemony, he still believes that if you make something truly soulful, it will break through. It will claw its way to the surface, and move people. It’s undoubtedly gotten harder since “Once,” this movie seems to admit. The world is against you. But what one person can offer, a ballad or otherwise, still has power. Fairy tale or not, that’s worth believing in.
“Power Ballad,” a Lionsgate release in theaters Friday, is rated R by the Motion Picture Association for “language throughout and some drug use.” Running time: 108 minutes. Three stars out of four.
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