Entertainment
Review: Julia Bullock’s song recital, ‘From Ordinary Things,’ is anything but ordinary
The art of the so-called art song is a thriving business. Singers galore are monthly recording songs from the rich 19th century classical repertory, while composers are busy making new ones. But what was once known as the Lieder recital — the German title for songs in a genre once dominated by Schubert, Schumann, Hugo Wolf and Richard Strauss — has approached its sell-by date.
The smart shopper will already note signs of staleness and mold in the old practice of a singer in stiff white tie and tails or gaudy gown, standing, arm propped on piano, of the second banana accompanist. Attention here was meant to be drawn not to the singer but the marvels of song, as you followed the text in your program book. The recital acted like a religious experience in which a rarefied atmosphere befits radiance.
A new generation of singers, however, has been strikingly upending the song recital, turning to songs from a wide variety of sources old, new and genre fluid. Singers think thematically and theatrically. Pianists become welcoming creative partners. Other musicians, stage directors, choreographers and dancers may be invited in.
“From Ordinary Things,” which had its premiere as part of CAP UCLA’s series at the Nimoy Theater on Thursday night, is the latest project of one of the least ordinary and most compelling singers of this new generation, Julia Bullock. A rivetingly theatrical soprano, Bullock, in collaboration with percussionist/composer Tyshawn Sorey and director Peter Sellars, has developed a full-scale operatic evening, “Perle Noir: Meditations for Joséphine,” about the chanteuse Josephine Baker and slated next for Australia’s Adelaide Festival in March. Another project has been Bullock’s riveting staging, with dance, of Olivier Messiaen’s mystical, Amazonian, sex-love-death song cycle, “Harawi,” which came to the Wallis in October 2024.
Conor Hanick, a partner of Bullock’s in the experimental collective American Modern Opera Company (AMOC), was the pianist for “Harawi” and is again for “From Ordinary Things.” They are further joined by the equally versatile cellist, Seth Parker Woods. The title comes from the last line of “Shelter,” a song by André Previn with a text by Toni Morrison. “In this soft place/Under your wings/I will find shelter/From ordinary things.”
That leaves us Bullock with extraordinary things, and her program is surprising in all things. She begins in shock, singing unaccompanied, on a dark stage in a darkened hall, performers illuminated by powerful spotlights.
Julia Bullock performs at the UCLA Nimoy Theater on Thursday in Los Angeles.
(Carlin Stiehl/For The Times)
Stark, discomforting amplification diminishes intimacy and the luxurious richness of Bullock’s soprano, which easily fills a room on its own, suggests quiet terror, the lonely state of Nina Simone’s “Images.” The unaccompanied solo about a woman who “thinks her body has no glory” gets it from Bullock. That progresses without a break into the first song, “Nahandove,” from Ravel’s “Songs of Madagascar,” with piano and cello but not the flute in Ravel’s original setting. Here beauty is celebrated with voluptuous rapture, setting the mood for “Oh, Yemanja,” a mythic, watery mother’s prayer from Tania León’s opera “Scourge of Hyacinths.”
A highlight was to have been a pair of songs by León, with texts by Kevin Young, written for the recital, but they were apparently not yet ready. A line from one of them is “All light wrong?” With the program and song texts only available to download on the cellphone, the audience was left in the dark without texts and, with amplification obscuring diction, not knowing what’s what.
Another Young line — “are my chief complaints” — suited the blowsy loudspeakers that messed up balances, which extended to a performance of George Walker’s rarely heard Sonata for Cello, that ends the first half, for no apparent reason other than it gives the spotlight to the instrumentalists and it is a score that begs to be heard.
Parker has been a glowing advocate of the early work, written in 1957, by the late composer whose music is only in the past few years beginning to find its way to the public thanks to the efforts of reviving neglected Black composers. The sonata does not have the vibrant complexity of Walker’s commanding later works, but it is tight, strong, accessible and with an inspired slow movement that it would be hard to get enough of.
Cellist Seth Parker Woods and pianist Conor Hanick at the UCLA Nimoy Theater on Thursday in Los Angeles.
(Carlin Stiehl/For The Times)
The strange second half brought fewer complaints. An intermission bought time to familiarize oneself with text squeezed onto the cellphone screen. Amplification proved less objectionable. Bullock announced that while putting the program together she had come across songs by Robert Owens, a little-known American composer who lived in Munich, Germany, and died in 2017 and who wrote songs in the style of Richard Strauss to texts by the 19th century poet Joseph von Eichendorff. If not a find, a curiosity.
From there to the avant-garde. “Ultimate Rose” from Salvatore Sciarrino’s 1981 opera, “Vanitas,” turns early music, along with vocal and cello production, marvelously inside out. More Nina Simone, the harsh “Four Women,” then Previn. Along with “Shelter,” Bullock sang a song he wrote with Dory Previn (“It’s Good to Have You Near Again”) and arrangements he made of standards (The Gershwins’ “Love Walked In” and Rogers’ and Hart’s “Nobody’s Heart Belongs to Me”) for his album with Leontyne Price. The encore was Massenet’s “Elégie.”
Each song seems to exist for reasons of its own. Each song creates a different dynamic among the three performers. You listen, left in the dark, wondering but also in wonder, as Bullock asks you a question why each song mattered as much as it did.
You go home and read the texts and find there are no ordinary things.
Movie Reviews
Roll On 18 Wheeler: Errol Sack’s ‘TRUCKER’ (2026) – Movie Review – PopHorror
I am a sucker for all those straight-to-video slasher movies from the 90’s; there was just a certain point where you knew the acting was terrible, however, it made you fall in love. I can definitely remember scanning the video store sections for all the different horror movies I could. All those movies had laughable names and boom mics accidentally getting in the frame. Trucker seems like a child of all those old dreams, because it is.
Let’s get into the review.
Synopsis
When a group of reckless teens cause an accident swroe to never speak of it. The father is reescued by a strange man. from the wreckage and nursed back to health by a mysterious old man. When the group agrees to visit the accident scene, they meet their match from a strange masked trucker and all his toys with revenge on his mind.
Roll on 18 Wheleer
Trucker is what you would imagine: a movie about a psychotic trucker chasing you. We have seen it many, many times. What makes the film so different is its homage to bad movies but good ideas. I don’t mean in a negative way. When you think of a slasher movie, it’s not very complicated; as a matter of fact, it takes five minutes to piece the film together. This is so simple and childlike, and I absolutely love it. Trucker gave us something a little different, not too gory, bad CGI fire, I mean, this is all we old schlock horror fans want. Trucker is the type of film that you expect from a Tubi Original, on speed. However, I would take this over any Tubi Original.
I found some parts that were definitely a shout-out to the slasher humor from all those movies. Another good point that made the film shine was the sets. I guess what I can say is the film is everything Joy Ride should have been. While most modern slashers are trying to recreate the 1980s, the film stands out with its love for those unloved 1990’s horror films. While most see Joyride, you are extremely mistaken, my friend; you will enjoy this film much more.

In The End
In the end, I enjoyed the entire film. At first, I saw it listed as an action thriller; I was pleasantly surprised, and Trucker pulled at my heart strings, enveloping me in its comfort from a long-forgotten time in horror. It’s a nostalgic blast for me, thinking back to that time, my friends, my youth, and finding my new home. Horror fans are split down the middle: from serial-killer clowns (my side) to elevated horror, where an artist paints a forty-thousand-year-old demon that chases them around an upper-class studio apartment. I say that a lot, but it’s the best way to describe some things.
The entire movie had me cheering while all the people I hated suffered dire consequences for their actions. It’s the same old story done in a way that we rabid fans could drool over, and it worked. In all the bad in the world today, and my only hope for the future is the soon-to-end Terrifier franchise. However, the direction was a recipe to succeed with 40+ year old horror fans like me. I see the film as a hope for tomorrow, leading us into a new era.
Trucker is set to release on March 10th, 2026
Entertainment
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.”
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.
Movie Reviews
‘Scream 7’ Review: Ghostface Trades His Metallic Knife for Plastic in Bloody Embarrassing Slasher Sequel
It’s funny how this film is marketed as the first Scream movie in IMAX, yet it’s their sloppiest work to date. Williamson accomplishes two decent kills. My praise goes to the prosthetic team and gore above anything else. The filmmaking is amateurish, lacking any of the tension build and innovation in set pieces like the Radio Silence or Craven entries. Many slasher sequences consist of terribly spliced editing and incomprehensible camera movement. There was a person at my screening asking if one of the Ghostfaces was killed. I responded, “Yeah, they were shot in the head; you just couldn’t see it because the filmmaking is so damn unintelligible.”
Really, Spyglass? This is the best you can do to “damage control” your series that was perfectly fine?
I’m getting comments from morons right now telling me that I’m biased for speaking “politically” about this movie. Fuck you! This poorly made, bland, and franchise-worst entry is a byproduct of political cowardice.
The production company was so adamant about silencing their outspoken star, who simply stated that she’s against the killing of Palestinian people by an evil totalitarian regime, that they deliberately fired her, conflating her comments to “anti-semintism,” when, and if you read what she said exactly, it wasn’t. Only to reconstruct the buildup made in her arc and settle on a nonsensical, manufactured, nostalgia-based slop fest to appeal to fans who lack genuine film taste in big 2026. To add insult to injury, this movie actively takes potshots at those predecessors, perhaps out of pettiness that Williamson didn’t pen them or a mean-spirited middle finger to the star the studio fired. Truly, fuck you. Take the Barrera aspect out of this, which is still impossible, and Scream 7 is a lazy, sloppy, ill-conceived, no-vision, enshittification of Scream and a bloody embarrassment to the franchise. It took a real, morally upright actress to make Ghostface’s knife go from metal to plastic.
FINAL STATEMENT
You either die a Scream or live long enough to see yourself become a Stab.
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