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Review: In ‘American Classic,’ Kevin Kline and Laura Linney deliver a love letter to theater

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Review: In ‘American Classic,’ Kevin Kline and Laura Linney deliver a love letter to theater

The lovely, funny “American Classic,” premiering Sunday on MGM+, is a love letter to theater, community and community theater. Kevin Kline plays Richard Bean, a narcissistic stage actor. He’s famous enough to be opening on Broadway in “King Lear,” but he has to be pushed onstage and is forgetting lines. After he drunkenly assails a hostile New York Times critic — caught on video, of course — he’s suspended from the play, and his agent (Tony Shalhoub) advises him to get out of town and lay low until the heat’s off, as they used to say in the gangster movies.

Learning that his mother (Jane Alexander, acting royalty, in film clips) has died, Richard heads back to his small Pennsylvania hometown, where his family — all actors, like the Barrymores, but no longer acting — owns a once-celebrated theater. To Richard’s horror, it has, for want of income, become a dinner theater, hosting touring productions of “Nunsense” and “Forever Plaid” instead of the great stage works on which he cut his teeth.

Brother Jon (Jon Tenney), running the kitchen at the theater, is married to Kristen (Laura Linney), Richard’s onetime acting partner, who dated him before her marriage; now she’s the mayor. Their teenage daughter, Miranda (Nell Verlaque) — a name from Shakespeare — does want to act and move to New York, as her mother had before her, but is afraid to tell her parents. Richard’s father, Linus (Len Cariou), is suffering from dementia, though not to the point he won’t actively contribute to the action; every day he comes out again as gay.

Across the eight-episode series, things move from the ridiculous to the sublime. Richard’s attempt to stage his mother’s funeral, with her coffin being lowered from the ceiling, while “Also sprach Zarathustra” plays and smoke billows toward the audience, fortunately comes to naught; but he announces at the ceremony that he’ll direct a production of Thornton Wilder’s 1938 play “Our Town” at the theater, to “restore the soul of this town.” (His big idea is to ignore Wilder’s stage directions, which ask for no curtain, no set and few props, with a “realistic version,” featuring a working soda fountain, rain effects and a horse.) Fate will have other plans for this, and not to give away what in any case should be obvious, the title of the play will also become its ethos, with a cast of amateurs, including Miranda’s jealous boyfriend, Randall (Ajay Friese), and ordinary people standing in for the ordinary people of Wilder’s Grover’s Corners.

The series has a comfortable, cushiony feeling; it’s the sort of show that could have been made as a film in the 1990s, and in which Kline could have starred as easily in his 40s as in his 70s; it has the same relation to reality as “Dave,” in which he played a good-hearted ordinary Joe who takes the place of a lookalike U.S. president. The town is essentially a sunny place, full of mostly sunny people, to all appearances, a typical comedy hamlet. But we’re told it’s distressed, and Mayor Kristen is in transactional cahoots with developer Connor Boyle (Billy Carter), who wants clearance to build a casino on the site of a landmark hotel. (Much of the plot is driven by money — needing it, trading for it, leaving it, losing it.) He also wants his heavily accented, bombshell Russian girlfriend, Nadia (Elise Kibler), to have a part in “Our Town.”

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As in the great Canadian comedy “Slings & Arrows,” set at a Shakespeare Festival outside of Toronto, themes and moments and speeches from the play being performed are echoed in the lives of the performers, while the viewer experiences the double magic of watching a fine actor playing an actor playing a part. Kline, of course, is himself an American classic, with a long stage and screen career that encompasses classical drama, romantic and musical comedy and cartoon voiceovers; the series makes room for Richard to perform soliloquies from “Hamlet” and “Henry V,” parts Klein has played onstage. He brings out the sweetness latent in Richard. Linney, who played against her sweetheart image in “Ozark,” is happily back on less deadly ground (though she’s tense and drinks a little). Tenney, who was sweet and funny on “The Closer,” and who we don’t see enough of these days, is sweeter and funnier here, and gets to sing. (All the Beans will sing, except for Linus.)

As a comedy, it is often predicable — you know that things will work out, and some major plot points are as good as inevitable — but it’s the good sort of predictability, where you get what you came for, where you hear the words you want to hear, ones you could never have written yourself. “American Classic” is not out to challenge your world view in any way but wants only to confirm your feelings and in doing so amplify them. Shock effects are fine in their place — and to be sure there are major twists in the plot — but there is a certain release when the thing you’re ready to have happen, happens, whether it brings laughter or tears. Either is welcome.

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Blue Heron Review: Some Things Last a Long Time • The Austin Chronicle

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Blue Heron Review: Some Things Last a Long Time • The Austin Chronicle

Within the family at the center of Blue Heron, the black sheep is a blond. Fair-skinned teenager Jeremy (Edik Beddoes) is an outlier among his siblings, two jostling preteen boys and watchful, 8-year-old Sasha (Eylul Guven), who are all darkly featured and take after their Hungarian parents (Iringó Réti and Ádám Tompa). Jeremy’s hair color doesn’t really matter, of course, but the contrast makes a useful shorthand for Jeremy’s otherness. 

If “other” sounds inexact, that’s the point. To the frustration of his devoted but exhausted parents, there’s been no straightforward diagnosis for what ails Jeremy – for the mood swings, the “acting out.” A move at the beginning of the film to a new home is hopeful but short-lived: The mystery of Jeremy, to himself and to others, persists.   

Much of Blue Heron is set over the course of one summer on Vancouver Island in the late Nineties, mirroring filmmaker Sophy Romvari’s own backstory, though the film shouldn’t be confused for straight autobiography. (Her 2020 short film, “Still Processing,” explored her family’s struggles with mental health through first-person documentary.) Still, the remarkable texture of these family scenes and how they favor Sasha’s childlike perspective – her small hands as they handle a potato peeler for the first time, the easy smiles as her mother dabs sunscreen on her face – feels intensely personal. There’s a hushed, dreamy quality to these scenes, mimicking memory itself, that plays into Blue Heron’s remarkable ability to hold two seemingly contradictory things to be true. Sasha can resent her brother and love him. Jeremy can be terrifying and in pain. A film can be whisper-quiet and still trip the wires in your brain that scream “danger.”

With very little dialogue and no cookie-cutter story beats, this fraught family life is vividly, tenderly rendered by Romvari and her naturalistic cast. That makes it all the more disorienting when, at arguably the moment of highest drama, Romvari shifts to a different vantage point. Boldly, she is asking the audience to look anew at what we’ve seen: to acknowledge what we saw was not the whole picture (how could it be, from an 8-year-old’s eye line?). The effect for me – and I suspect for you too, if you’re the kind of person who likes to take a movie apart and understand how it ticks – is exhilarating. 

But not entirely effective – and in this reservation I gather I’m the outlier; Blue Heron has been rapturously received at festivals and by critics. This second half (of which I’m loath to spoil the specifics) becomes at once more experimental and more documentary-like, and revolves around a muted performance stranded in the in-between of drama and docudrama. Nothing ruinous, but a hangnail nonetheless on a film that otherwise had me in its thrall.

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Blue Heron

2026, NR, 90 min. Directed by Sophy Romvari. Starring Eylul Guven, Edik Beddoes, Amy Zimmer, Iringó Réti, Ádám Tompa, Liam Serg, Preston Drabble.


























Rating: 3.5 out of 5.

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Clavicular charged with misdemeanor after viral video shows alligator being shot repeatedly

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Clavicular charged with misdemeanor after viral video shows alligator being shot repeatedly

The internet’s most controversial looksmaxxer is in hot water again.

Clavicular, born Braden Eric Peters, has been charged in Florida’s Miami-Dade County in connection with a video that circulated on social media showing an alligator, which appeared to be dead already, being shot repeatedly in the Everglades. Two others are also facing charges in connection with the incident: Andrew Morales, 22, known online by the moniker “Cuban Tarzan,” and Yabdiel Anibal Cotto Torres, 26, who goes by “Baby Alien.”

Peters is facing a misdemeanor charge of unlawfully discharging a firearm in a public place, according to court records obtained by The Times. The Miami-Dade state attorney’s office filed the charges April 29.

Steven Kramer and Jeffrey Neiman, attorneys for Peters, told The Times in a text message, “Our client has been summoned to appear for a misdemeanor charge that stems from following the instructions of a licensed airboat guide. He relied on that guidance. No animals or people were harmed. We are confident that once the full picture is understood, people will see this for what it is.”

The shooting took place at the Everglades and Francis S. Taylor Wildlife Management Area boat ramp dock on or about March 26, court records said. The video shows the men aboard an airboat firing at the alligator more than a dozen times.

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“Yeah, it’s definitely dead,” Peters is heard saying after firing.

Shortly after the video went live on social media, the Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission announced it had launched an investigation into the incident.

“Florida’s wildlife and waterways deserve respect, not content farming,” Lt. Gov. Jay Collins said March 26 on X. “Under my watch, anyone who abuses wildlife in Florida will be held accountable to the fullest extent of the law.”

Morales’ attorney Richard Cooper emailed The Times a statement Wednesday. “We urge the public not to rush to judgment. Importantly, there is no allegation that any animal was injured, and the available evidence does not support the sensationalized narrative that has circulated online,” the statement read. “My client relied on information and guidance provided by those in authority and had no criminal intent.”

An arraignment has been scheduled for May 20.

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The face of “looksmaxxing,” a subculture hyperfocused on taking extreme measures to perfect one’s physical appearance, Peters has admitted in interviews that he uses appetite-supressing and performance-enhancing drugs, as well as recreational party drugs, and has said he chisels his face by smashing his bones with a hammer.

The same week Peters’ alligator video caught the authorities’ attention, the manosphere influencer was arrested on suspicion of misdemeanor battery. He was taken into custody on a warrant issued by the Osceola County Sheriff’s Office and released soon after on bond. Police allege that in February the 20-year-old internet celebrity instigated a fight between his girlfriend, Violet Lentz, 24, and a 19-year-old influencer at a Kissimmee, Fla., short-term rental. That incident was also live streamed to his hundreds of thousands of followers.

Then in April, Peters was live streaming from a Miami nightclub when he appeared to overdose on camera. In the video, Peters is seen taking a swig of an unknown substance and then subsequently starting to mumble, sway and close his eyes as the camera panned away.

TMZ obtained the audio from a 911 call alerting emergency services to the possible overdose of a 20-year-old man. Additional videos, taken by bystanders, showed Peters being carried out of the nightclub.

A source close to Peters told The Times that he was hospitalized for the overdose and checked himself out the following morning. Within hours of his release from the hospital, he was back on streaming platform Kick and telling his followers he would be out at a nightclub that night to promote its grand opening.

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Movie Review – Mortal Kombat II (2026)

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Movie Review – Mortal Kombat II (2026)

Mortal Kombat II, 2026.

Directed by Simon McQuoid.
Starring Karl Urban, Adeline Rudolph, Jessica McNamee, Josh Lawson, Ludi Lin, Mehcad Brooks, Tati Gabrielle, Lewis Tan, Damon Herriman, Chin Han, Tadanobu Asano, Joe Taslim, Hiroyuki Sanada, Max Huang, Martyn Ford, Ana Thu Nguyen, Desmond Chiam, CJ. Bloomfield, Vanesa Everett, Sharon Brooks, Steven Cragg, Sophia Xu, and Ed Boon.

SYNOPSIS:

The fan favorite champions — now joined by Johnny Cage himself — are pitted against one another in the ultimate battle to defeat the dark rule of Shao Kahn that threatens the very existence of the Earthrealm and its defenders.

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Drunk in a bar while running away from his destiny of future Earthrealm Champion in returning director Simon McQuoid’s Mortal Kombat II, a fan of the washed-up, never-kut-it-as-a-star leading man of korny action movies Johnny Cage (Karl Urban, a bizarre kasting choice, forcing him to push some of the kharacter’s goofiness into the actor’s more hard-edged style – even if one has never played the video games it is easy that something is off tonally about this performance for much of the running time) is ecstatic to meet him, only to be met with a self-deprecating teardown of his work while asserting that what audiences want today is grounded and gritty, citing John Wick as an example.

That’s true to an extent, but it doesn’t mean Mortal Kombat is fit for that path. And yet, that is half of the tone screenwriter Jeremy Slater has cooked up here for the sequel (thankfully including a tournament this time, even if these are some of the strangest rules for such a thing, without any bracketing or a number of kontestants that would kontinuously evenly split in half – think 16 to 8 to 4 and so on until a winner is determined), an overly self-serious wannabe Marvel-style attempt at an epic (take a shot whenever the heroes walk toward the screen in slow motion like a team has just been assembled) that kan’t help itself from striving for emotionality through a swelling, dramatic take on the music (komposed by Benjamin Wallfisch) and the occasional piece of exposition explaining away or showing a traumatic backstory that ie subsequently diskarded for a lengthy amount of time, never materializing into anything worth investing in.

The bulk of this misguidedness komes from the introduction of Kitana (Adeline Rudolph, a standout, making the most of looking stylish and badass while wielding dual fan-blades when it’s her time to enter the spotlight) as a young girl (Sophia Xu) with her realm tormented by Outworld’s merciless skull-masked ruler Shao Kahn (Martyn Ford), assuming kontrol over the land through kombat and taking her as a daughter. It is an early setup for a payoff that does eventually kome and deliver (easily one of the better fights that don’t involve Hiroyuki Sanada’s Scorpion and Joe Taslim’s Sub-Zero that the recent movies have produced), but mostly pushes her to the side throughout the rest of the film, minimizing the impact of whatever kharacterization is intended. I can tell you that this specific final fight rules, but it would be deceitful to say that her revenge is emotionally satisfying.

That’s the glaring issue with Mortal Kombat II in a nutshell: it’s awkward and cheesy when trying to take itself seriously and embody a tone that the material doesn’t warrant, but mostly works when it’s in a more subversive, irreverently funny vibe (as in, not to spoil it, everything happening here with CJ. Bloomfield’s Baraka). Josh Lawson’s Kano is also back and excels here as a kharacter functioning as the exact kounterpoint to the aforementioned Johnny Cage statement regarding realism; he’s here to rip a new one into the demeanor and appearances of the other fighters and kharacters, good and bad, with Necromancer Quan Chi (Damon Herriman) getting the brunt of the insults and more than enough to make one wonder if the filmmakers and possibly even video game franchise creator Ed Boon (who has a cameo) hate him.

Earthrealm leader and God of Thunder, Lord Raiden (Tadanobu Asano), is once again here keeping morale high to save the human race. Rounding out the other kontestants are some of the usual beloved faces, ranging from Ludi Lin’s fireball-throwing Dragon Warrior Liu Kang, Jessica McNamee’s no-nonsense soldier Sonya Blade alongside her half-cyborg teammate Jax (Mehcad Brooks), soul-sucker Shang Tsung (Chin Han), screeching Queen Sindel (Ana Thu Nguyen), an evil possessed take on hat-blade boomerang-tossing Kung Lao (Max Huang), a loyal konfidante partner-in-training and non-biological sister of Kitana in Jade (Tati Gabrielle), with other familiar faces popping up here and there. And while it would be a stretch to say that anyone is going to become a star from these movies, it’s fair to say that they play and look the parts well enough, whether it be some fan service posing or one-liners or, most importantly, busting out trademark moves and kombos.

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As for the fights themselves, they take place across several locations (some of them feature klassic arenas such as the infamous acid pool room) that have mostly been green-screened to the Netherworld and back, kreating a frustrating contrast to the otherwise impressive fight khoreography and wirework. Of course, some of the editing is still choppy, while many of the attacks themselves often fail to land with the necessary brutal impact a film like this should instill. There is something video-gamey about them in motion that doesn’t always translate well or feel anywhere near as visceral as some of the fatalities from the games or X-ray special attacks. The fact that most of the gore here is CGI blood doesn’t help.

Still, whenever Mortal Kombat II falls into a jokey rhythm that knows all of this is ridiculous (including all the deus ex machina artifacts kharacters are looking for here), pokes fun at itself (Lord Raiden is finally mocked as looking like something out of Big Trouble in Little China), and remembers that there should be almost no downtime between kombat, it’s enjoyable enough, sometimes feeling like a representation of what these adaptations should be, although disappointingly coming nowhere close to the guilty pleasure absurdities of Paul W.S. Anderson’s first krack at this. Mortal Kombat II simply can’t shake its boneheaded desperation to be taken seriously as epic, never fully kommitting to dumb fun; the kourse-korrection is almost there.

Flickering Myth Rating – Film: ★ ★ / Movie: ★ ★ ★

Robert Kojder

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