Entertainment
How Jenny Slate swung between laughter and sorrow in 'Dying for Sex'
This article contains spoilers for the finale of FX’s “Dying for Sex.”
Jenny Slate hasn’t quite figured out how to respond when people tell her they found themselves sobbing at the end of “Dying for Sex,” the new FX show she stars in alongside Michelle Williams.
It’s an understandable reaction. The limited series, which began streaming on Hulu on Friday, follows Molly (Williams) as she upends her life when she gets a Stage 4 cancer diagnosis. Rather than stay in a sexless marriage with her husband, Steve (Jay Duplass), Molly decides to dive into a thrilling erotic journey, with the support of her best friend Nikki (Slate), who becomes her caregiver during the last months of her life.
A mess of an actor who adores Molly, Nikki becomes her best friend’s anchor, the grounding force she needs as Molly explores her kinks, her desires and her insatiable need to be wanted and obeyed in bed. Their friendship and mutual caregiving is at the center of “Dying for Sex.” It’s why creators Elizabeth Meriwether and Kim Rosenstock, who adapted the series from the Wondery podcast of the same name, knew it was a tall order to find someone who not only would need to go toe-to-toe with Williams but would need to serve as the heart of the show.
“We needed someone who could be really funny and also just break your heart and almost kind of in the same moment,” Meriwether said.
But that was only part of the equation. “You have to believe that Nikki is a person you would want to die with, that would be the most enjoyable, pleasurable person to spend the rest of your time with,” Rosenstock added.
Jenny Slate, left, with Michelle Williams as Molly, Nikki’s best friend who decides to go on a erotic journey after a Stage 4 cancer diagnosis.
The two said that led to some rather strange casting conversations: “Would we want to die with this person?” they’d ask themselves. And when it came to Slate, the answer was simple: yes.
“I think she portrayed all the messiness of caretaking in such a beautiful way,” Rosenstock said. And that required a nimble comedic performer who could just as easily showcase Nikki’s curdling anger against her boyfriend after he mutes her phone from Molly’s urgent messages as she can dazzle a bedridden Molly with Shakespearean soliloquies and a full-blown one-woman “Clueless” show.
Slate, whose recent work has included roles in “It Ends With Us” and “The Electric State” as well as a Prime Video stand-up special and a book of essays titled “Lifeform,” spoke to The Times about her character, navigating the tonal shifts in the series and what Nikki’s bag represents.
This conversation has been edited for clarity and length.
We need to talk about that “Clueless” scene at the hospital where, to cheer up Molly, Nikki begins a mishmash of performances. Not just “A Midsummer Night’s Dream” but a whole throng of moments from that classic Amy Heckerling 1995 flick. Was that written into the script or do you just have “Clueless” in the back of your pocket?
I think a lot of us have “Clueless” in our back pocket. But that was written into the show, and I was delighted by it. Because I completely get it. I mean, I don’t know a lot of millennials who don’t know, “Oh, my God, I love Josh!” I knew a lot of those lines, but I did have to memorize Amber’s. I knew there are a lot of people that would be upset if I messed them up.
Less so with Shakespeare.
Oh yeah, he’s very good. I mean, he’s no Amy Heckerling, but he’s very good!
The scene captures so much of what I found thrilling about the show, especially the way it shuttles between humor and sadness. There’s so much crying through laughs and so much laughter through tears. How did you come to navigate that tonal shift throughout?
For me, one of the signature characteristics of the show is that you don’t get the laughter without the sorrow. As Michelle puts it, Molly’s cancer diagnosis acts as a portal for her to explore the truth of who she is and how she’s operated in the world via her erotic journey. It’s this idea that you don’t have to separate things out. That you don’t have to compartmentalize parts of yourself because they upset you. This show really tries to be as inclusive, emotionally speaking and experientially, as possible. I think that allows for really interesting performances, for unexpected moments in the narrative. But it also allows one to feel very close to the story, because much like life itself, it is going to unfold on its own.
“For me, one of the signature characteristics of the show is that you don’t get the laughter without the sorrow,” Jenny Slate says.
(Justin Jun Lee / For The Times)
As much as the show is about Molly’s journey, this is also a story about caregiving — about the perils and the sorrows of it but also the kind of joy that can come from wanting to care for someone else, almost in spite of your own well–being. What did you learn about caregiving while playing Nikki?
One thing I really loved about this character is that she sees caregiving as something that is really outside her own self definition. Not that she defines herself as selfish. But she doesn’t really look to herself to be the person in the room who’s going to know how to do your taxes. She’s just not the person that is responsible in a sort of pen-and-paper way. But the way that she is deeply dedicated and sure of her love allows her to participate in caregiving as a process that is definitely serious, and she has to learn to pick up the pace on that. But caregiving is also — even if it has an end point because someone has a terminal diagnosis — an open-ended, innovative process. That’s how I approached it. As an actor, I am going to keep myself open. I’m going to learn to innovate the more that I learn about Michelle as a performer and Molly as this character. And I worked with that openness. I allowed Nikki to stay in the moment. Nikki sees caring as an investigative process where you have to give someone room to grow. And so I gave myself room to grow while I was performing.
I think you see it in a prop. At the beginning, we see Nikki’s bag as an agent of chaos, and then it’s sort of this Mary Poppins-like bag, where anything that Molly would need, she’s gonna have it.
Yeah. She doesn’t end up with, like, a Clare V. clutch. Nikki is allowed to stay herself. The bag is still the bag. But the use is different. She doesn’t have to become someone else in order to be the best person she can be for herself and for Molly. But she does have to deal — to use the metaphor of the bag — with what is internal, and to understand that for Molly, a lot of stuff that she’s carrying is just not for right now and needs to go. And same for Nikki. They have different tasks as people, in terms of their growth. But by the end of it, Nikki’s bag has everything for Molly but so does Nikki’s brain. She knows exactly what type of vibrator Molly needs.
It’s what makes those scenes where they butt heads — like on New Year’s Eve, when Molly all but ignores Nikki’s plans (and their fab promlike dresses) to go hook up with a random stranger — all the harder to watch.
I think that’s a really important moment for Molly and Nikki, because even though they’re really bonded and they’re both committed to what they’re doing, they actually need to experience differentiation in order to experience success, whatever that means for both of them. One of the most beautiful things about this project is that there are so many inflection points. There are so many moments of necessary, and specific, and also pretty surprising, change. It’s not just one moment where everything comes to a head, falls apart and then comes back together. The characters are allowed the privilege of a complete ride. And as Molly says when she’s about to die, “It’s not that f— serious.”
“The characters are allowed the privilege of a complete ride,” Jenny Slate says. “And as Molly says when she’s about to die, ‘It’s not that f— serious.’”
And that comes from one of my favorite scenes in the final episode, which is when Amy (Paula Pell) explains dying in the most thoughtful, most hysterical way. That line of hers — “Your body knows how to die” — unlocked for me something quite profound about the show and its story.
Because of Paula and her incredible performance, and Liz and Kim’s brilliant writing, it’s like we’re very gently turned toward this thing that we see in life and we see in movies. It’s that people die. But Paula explains it from the inside out. I’ve heard parts of that when speaking to a hospice caregiver in my own life. But Paula’s nurse, Amy, at once makes dying natural and also extraordinary. In the same way that having an orgasm is natural and also extraordinary. It is physical, natural but also intensely personal. And that the body knows what to do and needs to do it. I, as a person, don’t think about dying a lot. But I found myself, while listening to Paula’s monologue, feeling soothed.
Soothing is the perfect word to describe that scene, yes. Especially because it tees up the ending not as depressing or dour but almost kind of uplifting, which is odd for a show concerned with death and dying. What are we to take from that final episode?
I think for Nikki, in the final episode, in that last scene, you see that she’s clearly been able to take a lot about what she learned about herself from being Molly’s caregiver but also just from her love with Molly, from the fact that she could love someone that much. She sees herself as someone with the capability for immense love and connection. And she knows it’s true. She has the proof. She’s proud of it. You see she’s utilized that knowledge in a lot of healthy, positive ways. She’s moving forward, there’s wind in her sails. She’s not in stasis. She’s not like a fossil because of Molly’s death. There are going to be times when she notices that kind of twang of a heartstring because of the experiences she will not be able to have with Molly. I like that the show is honest about that. She’s not better off at the end. She’s just different, and that’s OK.
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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