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Commentary: With ‘All’s Fair,’ Ryan Murphy gives us the ultimate Trump-era TV show

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Commentary: With ‘All’s Fair,’ Ryan Murphy gives us the ultimate Trump-era TV show

Sarah Paulson appears to be having a blast in Ryan Murphy’s new Hulu “legal” drama “All’s Fair,” and that’s about the only good thing about the show.

The New York Times recently ran a piece extolling its reimagining of the power suit (down to at least one visible thong) and I suppose that’s one way of avoiding the obvious. Still, I’m going to stick with Paulson’s obvious glee in playing a villain. Her Carrington Lane was left behind to fester in the comic-book sexism of a male-dominated divorce law firm when two of her colleagues stalked away to form an all-female team and Carrington is not one to surrender a grudge.

It’s impossible not to like Paulson and she is clearly enjoying the opportunity to glare and hiss and indulge in the kind of gross but creative profanity Melissa McCarthy likes to unleash when her characters hit the brink.

As for the rest … well, let’s just say with “All’s Fair,” American culture is getting exactly what it deserves: A series that wallows in the shiny, knockoff-ready trappings of new money (immaculate and soulless homes, private jets, diamonds the size of a Rubik’s Cube), defines “sisterhood” as the belief that any personal crisis can be alleviated by vaginal rejuvenation combined with a girls’ trip to a jewelry auction and gauges power by the ability to plot and take revenge. Preferably in the form of huge amounts of money.

“All’s Fair” may or may not be, as some have said, the worst show of the year (or possibly of all time), but with its celebration of the 1%, personal feuds and financial vengeance, it is certainly the first to truly embody the culture of the Trump presidency.

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Down to the reality star at its center. “All’s Fair” gives top billing not to any of the fine and seasoned actors that star — Paulson, Niecy Nash, Naomi Watts, Glenn Close — but to Kim Kardashian, who plays Allura Grant, head of the law firm Grant, Ronson and Greene.

Niecy Nash, left, Glenn Close and Kim Kardashian are among the stars of Ryan Murphy’s new Hulu drama “All’s Fair.”

(Ser Baffo / Disney)

That Kardashian (and Kris Jenner, who serves as a producer) were able to summon such forces of the galaxy to showcase her, shall we say, limited thespian abilities could be justifiably viewed as yet another “you go, girl” testament to her seemingly limitless business acumen.

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On the other hand, “All’s Fair” makes the dismal final season of “And Just Like That” look like Chekhov.

Murphy, and the forces at Disney, which owns Hulu, the home of “The Kardashians,” understand Kardashian’s cult-like following and are operating under the assumption that viewers will be so entranced by her and the fashions (which include an alarming amount of hats, capes and gloves) that they won’t notice that the main player is relying on her eyelash extensions to do her acting for her.

To be fair to Kardashian, few nonprofessional actors would shine beside scene partners like Close, Watts and Nash, and the writing of the series, which flirts with camp but never fully commits, does no one any favors.

Not since “Charlie’s Angels” has there been a “feminist fantasy” with such a male gaze. (Apologies to “Charlie’s Angels,” which was in many ways a groundbreaking show.)

After suffering on the sidelines of a mostly male law firm, Allura and Liberty Ronson (Watts) decide to branch out on their own. They do so with the blessing of Dina Standish (Close), that firm’s only female partner, and take with them ace investigator Emerald Greene (Nash). When we meet them again, 10 years later, Allura also has an assistant/mentee in Milan (Teyana Taylor), who later provides a predictable plot twist.

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The names alone suggest a level of parody, and, in the first episode, a send-up quality flits in and out of the proceedings, but the show chooses cynicism over satire every time.

Instead of sexist jokes, the partners of Grant, Ronson and Greene spend much of their time discussing how awful men are, with the possible exception of Liberty’s beau, Reggie (“The Handmaid’s Tale’s” O-T Fagbenle), and Standish’s ailing husband, Doug (Ed O’Neill).

That is, after all, the raison d’etre of the firm: Grant, Ronson and Greene are intent on protecting rich women from the perils of the prenup and generally making the bastards pay, sometimes through their “superior” knowledge of the law (in one storyline, this involves explaining that gifts are the sole property of the recipient, which even I knew), but more often blackmail (if you have chosen to live your life without ever seeing a butt plug the size of a traffic cone, keep your eyes shut when Emerald starts her slideshow).

A brief, and seemingly contractually required, mention of the firm raising money to help the underprivileged is laughable — “All’s Fair” is 100% après-moi television, in which extreme wealth is presented as too normal to even be aspirational, and any work not done by Emerald consists of sashaying in super slick shades from one successful throwdown to the next. With brief interludes in sumptuous cars and, as previously mentioned, overbidding on hideous brooches at a high-end jewelry auction (held by a firm client, which honestly seems potentially unethical, but whatevs).

If the dialogue were sharp, funny or even self-aware, Murphy and his team might get away with it, but it’s not — “It’s a shame your mother didn’t swallow,” Dina tells Carrington in what passes as proof that women can be as tough as men. Or that older women can talk trash. Or that Close will do her best to give a decent reading of any line. Or something.

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There are brief nods to the women’s personal lives — as a divorce lawyer, Liberty is reluctant to marry Reggie, Dina is struggling with Doug’s decline, Emerald is a super-single mom — but it all feels very box-ticky. Including Allura’s disintegrating marriage, which becomes a major plot point as the gals gather round to make that bastard pay as well, and her realization that if she wants to become a mother, she’s running out of time.

Matthew Noszka tries to hold back Sarah Paulson, who lunges at Niecy Nash and Kim Kardashian from across a conference table.

Reading the zeitgeist, the creators of “All’s Fair” were clearly not looking for raves or awards, just viewers.

(Disney)

In many ways, “All’s Fair” is an American version of the excellent British series “The Split,” which follows a matriarchal family of female divorce lawyers. Early on, one of the daughters (played by Nicola Walker) leaves the family firm and, in her own way, attempts to right the wrongs often done to women facing divorce from rich and powerful men while dealing with her own marital breakdown and a family with actual children.

But “American version” doesn’t really cut it. This is Trump’s-America version, in which ethics, morals and virtually all human feeling are secondary to winning, and winning is defined by who ends up making their opponent pay.

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Between Kardashian’s conspicuous nonacting and dialogue that often seems lifted from the all-caps regions of X, “All’s Fair” has, not surprisingly, received a critical drubbing. Which seems almost intentional.

Critics, after all, have long been routinely, and often viciously, disparaged (after the reviews were in, Close felt moved to post a sketch of the cast gathered around a “Fatal Attraction”-like “critic bunny stew”). More important, reviews, bad or good, do not (nor should they) predict audience reaction (see early theater reviews of “Wicked”). As Trump has proved again and again, bad press is still press and the worse it is, the more easily it can be cast as proof that the cultural elites (i.e. critics) are out to get … somebody.

So it shouldn’t surprise anyone that, despite a 5% score on Rotten Tomatoes, “All’s Fair” was Hulu’s most successful scripted series premiere in three years.

Reading the zeitgeist, the creators of “All’s Fair” were clearly not looking for raves or awards, just viewers. In this American moment, bad is good and shrewd operators know that if you throw in enough high-profile ingredients — Kardashian, Murphy, a bevy of fine actors — you needn’t take the trouble to ensure the mix will rise to the occasion.

As the president builds a ballroom while food banks are overrun, why wouldn’t TV audiences want to feast on fallen cake?

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These 3 Disney movie songs, animated with sign language, are headed to Disney+

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These 3 Disney movie songs, animated with sign language, are headed to Disney+

New animated sequences of songs from “Encanto,” “Frozen 2” and “Moana 2” are headed to Disney+.

Disney Animation announced Wednesday that “Songs in Sign Language,” comprised of three musical numbers from recent Disney movies newly reimagined in American Sign Language, will debut April 27 in honor of National Deaf History Month.

Directed by veteran Disney animator Hyrum Osmond, “Songs in Sign Language” will feature fresh animation for “Encanto’s” chart-topper “We Don’t Talk About Bruno,” “Frozen 2’s” poignant ballad “The Next Right Thing” and “Moana 2’s” anthem “Beyond.” Produced by Heather Blodget and Christina Chen, the new versions of these songs were created in collaboration with L.A.-based theater company Deaf West Theatre.

“In the majority of cases, we created entirely new animation,” Osmond said in a press statement. “There were a lot of adjustments that we had to do within the animation to be true to the original intention.”

Deaf West Theatre artistic director DJ Kurs, sign language reference choreographer Catalene Sacchetti and a group of eight performers from Deaf West worked together to craft and choreograph the ASL version of the musical numbers for “Songs in Sign Language.” The creatives focused on being true to the concepts and emotion of the songs rather than direct translations of the lyrics.

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Kurs said his team jumped at the chance to collaborate and integrate ASL into “the fabric of Disney storytelling.”

“Disney stories are the universal language of childhood,” Kurs said in a statement. “The chance to bring our language into that world was a historic opportunity to reach a global audience. Working on this project was very emotional. For so long, we have known and loved the artistic medium of Disney Animation. Here, the art form was adapting to us. I hope this unlocks possibilities in the minds and hearts of Deaf children, and that this all leads to more down the road.”

Osmond, who led a team of more than 20 animators on this project, said animation was the perfect medium to showcase sign language, which he described as “one of the most beautiful ways of communication on Earth.” The director, whose father is deaf, also saw this project as an opportunity to connect with the Deaf community.

“Growing up, I never learned sign language, and that barrier prevented me from really connecting with my dad,” Osmond said. “This reimagining of Disney Animation musical numbers helps bring down barriers and allows us to connect in a special way with our audiences in the Deaf community. I’m grateful that the Studio got behind making something so impactful.”

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Maxime Giroux – ‘In Cold Light’ movie review

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Maxime Giroux – ‘In Cold Light’ movie review

Maxime Giroux – ‘In Cold Light’

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The action is relentless in the complex thriller In Cold Light, a tense combination of crime and fugitive tale and family drama. It is the third feature and first English language film by Maxime Giroux, best known for a very different kind of film, the critically acclaimed 2014 drama Felix & Meira.

The tension and high energy of In Cold Light almost overwhelm the film, but are relieved, barely, by moments of character development and introspection that keep the audience pulling for the restrained and outwardly cold main character. 

Speaking at the film’s Canadian premiere, director Giroux admitted he found creating an action film a challenge. Part of his approach was using very minimal dialogue, especially for the central character, letting the action speak for itself, and allowing silence to intensify suspense. Giroux has said he likes the lack of dialogue and speaks highly of the importance of silence in cinema; he prefers using “physical aspects of communication” in his films. 

Young Ava Bly (Maika Monroe) is a competent and businesslike drug dealer, working in partnership with her brother Tom (Jesse Irving) and a small team. As the film begins, Ava has just been released from a brief prison sentence. She is hoping to return to her former position, but her brother’s associates consider her a risk due to her recent incarceration. While she works to re-establish herself, a shocking encounter with a corrupt police officer sends Ava’s life into chaos and forces her to go on the run.

Ava’s fugitive experience introduces a new character, to whom Ava turns for help: her father, Will Bly, played by Troy Kotsur, known for his excellent performance in CODA. Their first interaction is handled in a fascinating way, as Will is deaf and the two communicate through sign language. This, of course, provides another form of the silent interaction the director prefers; he explained that much of the father-daughter interaction was rewritten with the actor in mind. Their conflict is nicely expressed through a scene in which their initial conversation is intermittently cut off by a faulty light which goes out periodically, making communication through sign momentarily impossible, nicely expressing the rift between father and daughter. 

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As Ava continues to evade danger, her escape becomes complicated by new information, placing her in a painful dilemma. We gradually learn more about Ava, her background, and her character through occasional flashbacks and glimpses of her dreams. The plot becomes more complex and more poignant, and gains features of a mystery as well as an action tale, as she is pressed to choose from among equally unacceptable alternatives.

The climax of her efforts to protect both herself and those close to her comes to a head as she meets with the director of a rival drug gang. Veteran actress Helen Hunt is perfect in the minor but significant role of Claire, the rival drug lord, who plays odd mind games with Ava in an intriguing psychological fencing match. It’s an unusual scene, in which Ava’s personality is made clearer, and Claire’s understated dominance and casual speech do not quite conceal the threat she represents. 

The frantic pace and emotional turmoil are enhanced by the camera work, which tends to focus tightly on Ava, and by a harsh, minimal musical score that sets the tone without distracting from the action. Giroux chose to shoot the film in Super 60; he describes digital as “too perfect” for the look he was going for, and since “Ava is rough,” the film portrays her better. The director describes the entire movie as “rough,” in fact, and deliberately chose a dark, washed-out look for much of the footage, occasionally using light and colour, in the form of fireworks, lightning, or a colourful carnival, to both relieve and emphasise the darkness. 

The dynamic, intense story holds the attention in spite of the lengthy, sometimes repetitive chase scenes and subdued dialogue. Ava’s predicament, and the difficult decisions she is forced to make, are made surprisingly relatable, from the initial disaster that starts the action to the surprising flash-forward that concludes the film, on as high a note as the situation could allow. Fans of action movies will definitely enjoy this one.

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Meet the Mexican American talent behind ‘KPop Demon Hunters’

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Meet the Mexican American talent behind ‘KPop Demon Hunters’

The House of Pies, a Los Feliz institution, is bustling on a chilly January morning.

It wouldn’t be shocking if some of the patrons here for breakfast were casually chit-chatting about the cultural behemoth that “KPop Demon Hunters” has become. After all, the 2025 animated saga about three music stars fighting otherworldly foes is now the most-watched movie ever on Netflix; “Golden,” its showstopping track, has since become the first Korean pop song to ever win a Grammy.

But for Danya Jimenez, 29, who sits across from me sipping coffee, the reception to the movie she began writing on back in 2020 isn’t entirely surprising, but certainly delayed.

“When we first started working on it, I was like, ‘People are going to be obsessed with this. It’s going to be the best thing ever,’” she recalls. But as several years passed, and she and her writing partner and best friend Hannah McMechan, 30, moved on to other projects. They weren’t sure if “KPop” would ever see the light of day. Production for animation takes time.

It wasn’t until she learned that her Mexican parents were organically aware of the movie that Jimenez considered it could actually live up to the potential she initially had hoped for.

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“Without me saying anything, my parents were like, ‘People are talking about this’ — like my dad’s co-workers or my aunt’s friends — that’s when I started to realize, ‘This might be something big,’” she says.

“But never in my life did I think it would be at this scale.”

“KPop Demon Hunters” is now nominated for two Academy Awards: animated feature and original song. And that’s on top of how ubiquitous the characters — Rumi, Mira and Zoey — already are.

“Everyone sends me photos of knockoff ‘KPop Demon Hunters’ dolls from across the border,” Jimenez says laughing. “My friend got me a shirt from Mexicali with the three girls, but they do not look anything like themselves. She even got my name on it, which was awesome.”

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After graduating from Loyola Marymount University in 2018, Jimenez and McMechan quickly found their footing in the industry, as well as representation. But it was their still unproduced screenplay, “Luna Likes,” about a Mexican American teenage girl obsessed with the late chef and author Anthony Bourdain, that tangentially put them on the “KPop” path.

“Luna Likes” earned the pair a spot at the prestigious Sundance Screenwriters Lab, where Nicole Perlman, who co-wrote “Guardians of the Galaxy,” served as one of their advisors. Perlman, credited as a production consultant on “KPop,” thought they would be a good fit.

Jimenez didn’t see the connection between her R-rated comedy about a moody Mexican American teen and a PG animated feature set in the world of K-pop music, but the duo still pitched. Their idea more closely resembled an indie dramedy than an epic action flick.

“If [our version of ‘KPop’] were live-action, it would’ve been a million-dollar budget. It was the smallest movie ever. Our big finale was a pool party,” Jimenez says. “We had all of the girls and the boys with instruments, which obviously is not a thing in K-pop, and everyone was making out.”

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Even though their original pitch wouldn’t work for the film, Maggie Kang, the co-director and also a co-writer, believed their voices as two young women who were best friends, roommates and creative collaborators could help the movie’s heroines feel more authentic.

“Maggie had already interviewed all of the more established writers, especially older men,” Jimenez says. “She knows the culture. She knew K-pop, she’s an animator. She just needed the girls’ voices to come through, so I think that’s why we got hired.”

Kang confirms this via email: “It’s always great to collaborate with writers who are the actual age of your characters! Hannah and Danya were exactly that,” she says. “They were very helpful in bringing a fresh, young voice to HUNTR/X.”

Neither Jimenez nor McMechan were K-pop fans at the time. As part of their research, they both started watching K-pop videos, but it was McMechan who got “sucked into the K-hole” first. Still, it didn’t take long until the video for BTS’ “Life Goes On” entranced Jimenez.

“K-pop is a river that you fall into, and it just takes you,” Jimenez says. BTS and Got7 are her favorite groups. For McMechan, the ensemble that captivates her most is Stray Kids.

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In writing the trio of demon hunters, the co-writers modeled them after themselves. The characters’ propensity for ugly faces, silliness and a bit of grossness too, stems from the portrayals of girlhood and young womanhood that appeal to them. Jimenez, who says she was an angsty teen, most closely identifies with the rebellious Mira.

“I have a monotone vibe,” says Jimenez. “People always think that I’m a bitch just because I have a resting bitch face,” she says. “But as you can see in the movie, Mira cares so much about having everyone be really close. I feel like that’s how I’m with all my friends.”

Characters with strong personalities that are not simplistically likable feel the truest to Jimenez. In “Luna Likes,” the prickly protagonist is directly inspired by her experiences growing up, as well as the bond she shared with her dad over Bourdain’s “Parts Unknown” show.

“There’s a pressure to show that Mexicans are nice people and we’re hard workers. I was like, ‘Let’s make her kind of bitchy and very flawed,’” Jimenez says about Luna. “She’s a teenager in America and she should be given all the same opportunities — and also the forgiveness for being an ass— and [as] selfish at that age as anybody else.”

Hannah McMechan, left, and Danya Jimenez, co-writers of "KPop Demon Hunters," in Los Angeles

Hannah McMechan, left, and Danya Jimenez, co-writers of “KPop Demon Hunters,” met in college.

(Carlin Stiehl / For The Times)

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Though their upbringings were markedly different, it was their shared comedic sensibilities that connected Jimenez and McMechan when they met in college. The two were close long before deciding to pen stories together. “Having a writing partner is the best. I feel bad for people who don’t have a writing partner, no offense to them,” says Jimenez.

McMechan explains that their writing partnership works because it’s grounded on true friendship. And she believes they would not have gotten this far without each other. While McMechan’s strong suit is looking at the bigger picture, Jimenez finds humor in the details.

“Danya is definitely funnier than me,” says McMechan. “It’s really hard to write comedy in dialogue versus comedy in a situation because if you’re putting the comedy in the dialogue, it can sound so forced and cringey. But she’s really good at making it sound natural but still really funny.”

Though she had been writing stories for herself as a teen, Jimenez didn’t consider it a career path until as a high schooler she watched the romantic comedy “No Strings Attached,” in which Ashton Kutcher plays a production assistant for a TV series.

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“He is having a horrible time. But I was so obsessed with movies and TV, and I was like, ‘That looks incredible. I want to be doing what he’s doing,’” she recalls. “And my dad was like, ‘That’s a job.’”

Danya Jimenez, one of the co-writers of "KPop Demon Hunters," stands near the Sunset Strip in Los Angeles.

Danya Jimenez grew up in Orange County.

(Carlin Stiehl / For The Times)

As an infant, Jimenez spent some time living in Tijuana, where her parents are from, until the family settled back in San Diego, where she was born. And when she was around 5 years old, Jimenez, an only child, and her parents relocated to Orange County. Until then, Jimenez mostly spoke Spanish, which made for a tricky transition when starting school.

“I knew English, but it just wasn’t a habit,” she recalls. “I would raise my hand and accidentally speak Spanish in class. My teachers would be like, ‘We’re worried about her vocabulary.’ That was always an issue, so it’s really funny that I turned out to be a writer.”

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As she points out in her professional bio, it was movies and TV that helped with her English vocabulary, especially the Disney sitcom “Lizzie McGuire.”

Jimenez describes growing up in Orange County with few Latinos around outside of her family as an alienating experience. She admits to feeling great shame for some of her behaviors as a teenager afraid of being treated differently and desperate to fit in.

“I would speak Spanish to my mom like in a corner because I didn’t want everyone else to hear me speak Spanish,” Jimenez confesses. “If my mom pulled up to school to drop me off playing Spanish hits from the ‘80s or banda, I was like, ‘Can you turn it down please?’”

Like a lot of young Latinos, she’s now taking steps to connect with her heritage, and, in a way, atone for those moments where she let what others might think rob her of her pride.

“During the pandemic I cornered my grandma to make all of her recipes again so I could write them down,” she recalls. “Now I have them all written down on a website. Or if my mom corrects me for something that I’m saying in Spanish, I now listen.”

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At the risk of angering her, Jimenez describes her mother as a “cool mom,” and compares her to Amy Poehler’s character in “Mean Girls.” Raised in a household without financial struggles, Jimenez doesn’t often relate to stories about Latinos in the U.S. that make it to film and TV. Her hope is to expand Latino storytelling beyond the tropes.

“That’s very important to me, to just tell Latino stories or Mexican stories in a way that’s just authentic to me and hopefully someone else is like, ‘Yes, that’s me,’” she says. “A lot of people have certain expectations for Latino stories that I’m not willing to compromise on.”

Though they still would like to make “Luna Likes” if given the chance, for now, Jimenez and McMechan will continue their rapid ascent.

They’re “goin’ up, up, up” because it is their “moment.” They recently wrapped the Apple TV show “Brothers” starring Matthew McConaughey and Woody Harrelson that filmed in Texas. They are also writing the feature “Attack of the Fifty Foot Woman” for Tim Burton to direct, with Margot Robbie in talks to star.

“I feel like I’ve just been operating in a state of shock for the past, I don’t know how many months since June,” says Jimenez in her signature deadpan affect. “But if I think about it too much, I’d be a nervous wreck.”

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