Entertainment
Julia Bullock and Davone Tines, both 37, reinvent the old song recital for a new generation
The old-fashioned song (or Lieder) recital — a singer in formal attire stoically standing next to a grand piano delivering art songs in foreign languages, unamplified in a concert hall far too large for intimacy — has obviously long needed refreshing. Indeed, it has all but disappeared from American stages.
But enter Julia Bullock and Davóne Tines. Each came through town recently with a highly personal and revealing recital program of intense intimacy and theatrical originality, boldly proclaiming a new generation’s profound rebirth of the medium.
Bullock took a spectacular deep dive into a seldom-heard song cycle by Olivier Messiaen, an hour of agony and ecstasy full of obscurities about the European Tristan myth, using a French text peppered with Quechua, an indigenous South American language. Tines’ spectacular deep dive was into the magnificent 20th century Black singer, actor and activist Paul Robeson.
Bullock and Tines are names that easily pair. They are the same age. They are Juilliard trained. They both came under director Peter Sellars’ wing early, and he gave them their first major exposure, particularly when he was music director of the 2016 Ojai Music Festival. About to turn 30, they displayed such a sense of life-force that they seemed certain to become the leading singers of their generation.
And so they are. Sellars brought them to John Adams’ attention, and they starred together, with brilliant theatrical verve, in his 2018 opera, “Girls of the Golden West,” a performance of which, recorded with the Los Angeles Philharmonic, was released this year on Nonesuch. Bullock’s first recital recording, “Walking in the Dark,” released on Nonesuch late in 2022, stunned the vocal world with its passion and won a Grammy. Tines now has his first Nonesuch recital recording, “Robeson,” just out, another Nonesuch knockout and obvious Grammy contender.
Bullock and Tines are also members of American Modern Opera Company, a collective of young artists in multiple fields reinventing opera. The AMOC production “Harawi” is directed by company co-founder Zack Winokur and features the company’s dancers Or Schraiber and Bobbi Jene Smith and pianist Conor Hanick. While not produced by AMOC, “Robeson” was conceived by Tines and Winokur, who commissioned it for his new summer festival on Manhattan’s Little Island in June.
The Ojai festival, where Bullock first performed as a student in 2011, was to have premiered “Harawi” in 2022, but that had to be canceled when Bullock contracted COVID-19. It has since triumphed at the Festival d’Aix-en-Provence before arriving Oct. 1 at the Wallis Annenberg Center for the Performing Arts in Beverly Hills (in collaboration with Ojai) and in Berkeley before that. Bullock said in a post-concert panel discussion that it’s been on her mind for some 15 years.
A lot has been made of the circumstances of Messiaen’s hourlong cycle, for which he wrote his own song texts. At the end of the Second World War, the French composer, who had been held for a year in a prisoner of war camp, found his wife had had a mental breakdown and was in declining health.
Shortly after, he fell in love with a young pianist and became obsessed with the Tristan myth, in whom love and death become existentially intertwined. In “Harawi,” he began to develop a new musical language. Strange and complicated rhythm structures and overheated harmonies, along with mystic bird calls in the piano all bespeak the magic of his young love.
But it is the singer who takes this to a new level, as she leaves one world and enters a spiritual new one. She becomes a new being without leaving the old one behind.
Dancer Bobbi Jene Smith, singer Julia Bullock and dancer Or Schraiber on the Wallis stage with pianist Conor Hanick.
(Jason Armond/Los Angeles Times)
Bullock embodied all the contradictions of that spirit of love and death, and Hanick, the reality. The dancers — the electric leaping of Schraiber and enveloping movements of Smith — seconded this on a stage that was bare but for a bench and striking lighting. As the dozen songs progressed, Bullock, who is a sensual dancer, absorbed grief and joy, each emotion ever more intense. Each word, whether French or Quechuan, seemed to hold double meaning, so full-bodied was her vocal production. She made “Harawi” into a beauteous yet dark landmark of singing.
“Robeson” holds equally powerful personal meaning for Tines. But the structure of his 70-minute performance, which opened the Monday Evening Concert’s 85th season at the Colburn School’s Zipper Hall last month in downtown L.A., was more awkward. Instead of a pre- or post-performance discussion, he took breaks from performing numbers that Robeson made essential listening and joined Hamza Walker, the director of the nonprofit art space the Brick (formerly LAXArt), in unpacking the program.
The subtitle of “Robeson” is, in fact, “Unpacking a Classical Americana Electro-Gospel Acid Trip.” Throughout his career, Tines, who can hold the world in his hands like no other singer I know today, had been compared to Robeson, who was said to have done the same thing. But rather than be Robeson, Tines explained, his need has been to liberate himself from the great singer.
Tines started out Robeson-esque performing “Some Enchanted Evening,” speaking Othello’s final monologue and singing African American spirituals, becoming angrier and yet also more ecstatic as he progressed. “Lift Every Voice” rose to rapture. “Let it Shine” was the thrill of a lifetime, the actual embodiment in song of an acid trip, or maybe enlightenment. Only after reaching that height could he then find the grace to to make “Old Man River,” sung as a new hymn of somber inspiration, his epilogue, the acid trip’s final, meaningful passage.
All acid trips need spiritual guides. Tines had Khari Lucas, a multi-instrumental sound artist, and jazz pianist John Bitoy. With them, he created an inspiring new sound world, finding a new man river, which freed Tines to transcend Paul Robeson without eradicating him.
Movie Reviews
Bandar Movie Review: Bobby Deol roars in Anurag Kashyap’s unsettling legal thriller that refuses to spoon-feed
Name: Bandar
Director: Anurag Kashyap
Cast: Bobby Deol, Sanya Malhotra, Sapna Pabbi, Saba Azad, Jitendra Joshi, Raj B Shetty
Writer: Sudip Sharma, Abhishek Banerjee
Rating: 3.5/5
Plot:
Bandar follows Sameer Mehra’s character, essayed by Bobby Deol, a fading star who is desperately clinging to his past glory. Just as he attempts to rebuild his life and finds solace in a new relationship, his world comes crashing down. A former girlfriend files a heinous allegation against him, dragging him into a vicious, high-profile legal battle. Written by Sudip Sharma and Abhishek Banerjee, the film moves away from standard Bollywood courtroom setups. Instead, it dives straight into the murky waters of social media trials, public perception, and a sluggish judicial system where the truth gets buried under layers of gray.
What works:
Known for his chaotic energy, Anurag Kashyap takes a remarkably mature and controlled approach here. He avoids sensationalizing a highly sensitive topic, choosing instead to focus on the psychological claustrophobia of the protagonist. The prison sequences are exceptionally well-shot. They create a suffocating, raw atmosphere that makes you feel the weight of the character’s confinement. The script successfully avoids preachy, black-and-white monologues. It bravely forces the audience to confront their own biases regarding modern-day public trials and the digital judge-and-jury culture.
What doesn’t:
Clocking in at nearly two hours and twenty minutes, Bandar feels heavily weighed down in the second half. The narrative stretches thin, and a few subplots demand too much patience, making you wish for a tighter edit. The film stubbornly refuses to take a definitive moral stance or offer a neat resolution. While film enthusiasts might appreciate the complexity, mainstream viewers looking for a clear-cut ending or emotional payoff might walk away feeling detached and frustrated.
Performances:
- Bobby Deol is the beating heart of this film. Stripping away the massive macho swagger and menacing villainy of his recent hits, he delivers a deeply vulnerable, understated performance. He plays Samar with a mix of arrogance, confusion, and raw helplessness, proving his immense range.
- Sanya Malhotra anchors her screen time with her trademark reliability, turning in a grounded and impactful performance.
- Saba Azad and Sapna Pabbi excel in their respective roles, bringing genuine nuance to characters that could have easily been sidelined.
- Jitendra Joshi is an absolute scene-stealer, commanding your attention every single time he steps into the frame.
- Indrajith Sukumaran and Raj B Shetty are absolute show stealers with their raw acting.
Final Verdict:
Bandar is an unsettling, morally complex thriller that refuses to spoon-feed its audience. It isn’t a comfortable watch, nor does it try to be. While the sluggish pacing in the second half prevents it from being an absolute masterpiece, it is worth a watch for Bobby Deol’s spectacular acting reinvention and Anurag Kashyap’s gritty, thought-provoking storytelling.
Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this article are solely those of the author and do not reflect the official policy or position of Pinkvilla. No statement in this article is intended to defame, harm, or malign any individual or entity.
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Kathy Hilton will no longer be the grand marshal of West Hollywood’s pride parade.
The city and WeHo Pride on Wednesday released a joint statement, announcing that “The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills” star would no longer serve as the Grand Marshal Icon for the 2026 WeHo Pride Parade. The event is scheduled for Sunday.
“After thoughtful discussions, the City of West Hollywood, the WeHo Pride production team, and Kathy Hilton have determined that the 2026 WeHo Pride Parade will not designate a Grand Marshal Icon honoree,” read the statement.
The decision comes less than a week after Hilton was announced. That May 28 announcement was met with swift backlash from the LGBTQ+ community and allies, who called out Hilton’s ties to President Trump and alleged MAGA-leaning politics. Critics also cited accusations that the socialite had used a homophobic slur while on a trip with other cast members of “The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills,” an action she has previously denied.
In their joint statement, West Hollywood and the WeHo Pride team expressed their appreciation for “the respectful and sincere dialogue” around both the event and the “role and significance” of Pride honorees.
“The City of West Hollywood has always believed that Pride belongs to the community,” the joint statement said. “Since its earliest days, Pride has served as both a celebration and a platform for activism, visibility, resilience, and the ongoing pursuit of equality, dignity, and justice for LGBTQ+ people. … These conversations reflect the passion people have for WeHo Pride and underscore the importance of ensuring that WeHo Pride continues to honor the history, values, and diverse voices of the LGBTQ+ community.”
In a statement, Hilton expressed gratitude for being considered for grand marshal and reaffirmed her commitment to the LGBTQ+ community and causes.
“My reason for wanting to be involved in this year’s WeHo Pride weekend was simple: to celebrate, support, and share in the joy of a community that means a great deal to so many people,” Hilton said. “Pride is, and always will be, about celebrating and uplifting LGBTQ+ voices, experiences, and achievements. … My support for the community and WeHo Pride is unwavering.”
She also mentioned several queer advocacy organizations and events she has supported over the years, including GLAAD, the Elton John AIDS Foundation, the Elizabeth Taylor AIDS Foundation, Dr. Mathilde Krim, God’s Love We Deliver and Project Angel Food.
The latest Pride-related dust-up follows the abrupt cancellation of the Long Beach Pride Festival in May. The city’s Pride Parade took place as planned.
Both snafus have occurred as conservative politicians and advocates continue to attack LGBTQ+ rights and visibility nationwide. Some Republican governors have even pushed for conservative alternatives to Pride month festivities. A recent Gallup poll has found that after years of steady gains, support for marriage equality and same-sex relationships has slipped, particularly among Republicans.
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
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