Entertainment
The best, worst and weirdest of Stagecoach Day 1 with Eric Church, Jelly Roll and more
After Coachella’s back-to-back weekends, barely any grass remains on the grounds of the Empire Polo Club. But that hasn’t stopped tens of thousands of country fans from venturing here for Stagecoach, which got underway Friday afternoon and runs though Sunday night with headliners Eric Church, Miranda Lambert and Morgan Wallen. The Times’ Mikael Wood and Vanessa Franko are at the festival, notebooks in hand and bandanas in place. Here’s a rundown of the highlights and lowlights of Day 1.
Eric Church performs on the Mane Stage on the first day of Stagecoach Country Music Festival at the Empire Polo Club in Indio.
(Allen J. Schaben / Los Angeles Times)
Eric Church lives up to his name
Church used his fifth headlining appearance at Stagecoach as an opportunity to try something different: Instead of leading his sturdy road band through a set of the hits that have made him a kind of older-brother figure to the likes of Wallen and Luke Combs, Church turned the so-called Mane Stage into an open-air chapel (complete with stained glass) for a stripped-down acoustic performance in which he was backed by a 16-member gospel choir.
The set mixed originals like “Mistress Named Music” and “Like Jesus Does” with far-flung covers: “Amazing Grace,” “I’ll Fly Away,” “Take Me to the River” and “Gin and Juice.” His aim seemed to be to showcase the music that formed him as a kid growing up in small-town North Carolina — and to draw attention, in this year of Beyoncé’s “Cowboy Carter,” to the Black roots of country music. (The performance also shared some DNA with the solo-acoustic residency Church has going at Chief’s, his new bar in Nashville, where Wallen was arrested this month for throwing a chair off the roof.)
Energy-wise, it was a risky choice at the end of a day many spent drinking in the sun: Half an hour or so after Church opened with Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah” — probably not a song anyone still needs to keep doing, if we’re being honest — one guy near me yelled, “This is Friday night, not Sunday morning!” As they went along, though, Church and his accompanists picked up a righteous steam. — Mikael Wood
Dwight Yoakam and the fabulous flying fringe
If you’re going to wear a Canadian tuxedo, make it memorable.
While top-and-bottom denim is a perennial look for Yoakam, on Friday the troubadour paired it with his standard cowboy hat and boots, but the standout was the jacket covered in white fringe on the front and back.
Yoakam, whose name was misspelled on the official Stagecoach set-times sign outside of the Palomino stage (as was Nickelback’s), started about 10 minutes after his scheduled start of 7:20 p.m.
Back to the fringe, it was almost hypnotic to watch it bounce and sway as Yoakam shimmied and shuffled across the stage while he and his band (also snazzily dressed with sparkles, no fringe) played songs including “Little Sister,” “Streets of Bakersfield” and a cover of Queen’s “Crazy Little Thing Called Love.”
Since Yoakam didn’t allow press to photograph his set, the best you can get from us is a stick–figure drawing I made — unfortunately art is not my strong suit and I really couldn’t do the fringe justice.
Other than a couple of feedback screeches on the microphone, Yoakam and his band played a tight set. The crowd began filtering out to hike over to the Mane Stage to catch Jelly Roll, which was a shame because Yoakam just kept getting better with “Honky Tonk Man” and “Guitars, Cadillacs” in the back half of the performance. — Vanessa Franko
Jelly Roll, right, performs with his special guest Ernest on the Mane Stage on the first day of Stagecoach Country Music Festival at the Empire Polo Club in Indio.
(Allen J. Schaben / Los Angeles Times)
Best multitasker: Jelly Roll
Nobody made more of their time at Stagecoach than Jelly Roll, who, before his set on the Mane Stage, turned up for a cooking demo with Guy Fieri and afterwards schlepped over to the Palomino to join Nickelback for “Rockstar.”
His primary performance was a condensed version of the road show he’s been touring hard over the past couple of years, with bruised yet muscular country hits like “Son of a Sinner” and “Save Me” alongside a medley of the hip-hop classics (including Eminem’s “Lose Yourself” and Biz Markie’s “Just a Friend”) that inspired him to become a rapper before he turned to singing.
He brought out Maddie & Tae to do a new song, “Liar,” that he said he’d put on his next album if the crowd liked it (and wouldn’t if the crowd didn’t); he also brought out T-Pain, who did “All I Do Is Win” and helped Jelly Roll pay tribute to the late Toby Keith with a take on Keith’s “Should’ve Been a Cowboy.”
After “Need a Favor,” Jelly Roll ushered his wife and daughter to the stage — he’d taken his daughter out of school for the day and flown her to California, he happily pointed out — and thanked the audience for changing their trajectory of their lives. Then he did a spiel about proving naysayers wrong that climaxed with his enumerating how many People’s Choice Awards he’s won. Iconic, obviously. — M.W.
Worst surprise guest: the wind
Jelly Roll brought out T-Pain. Mother Nature brought out winds that were so bad that if you drove in to the festival along the 10 Freeway it was difficult to see the mountains because of the dust.
While the worst of the wind was west of the festival site (some gusts reached upwards of 60 and 70 m.p.h. in the Coachella Valley, according to the National Weather Service), the South Coast Air Quality Management District issued a windblown dust advisory through late Friday. And if you were on the grounds, you could feel all of that windblown dust sticking to you.
It did lead to some interesting people-watching, though, as many a cowboy hat was chased across the field. — V.F.
A return visit from a Coachella headliner
A week after she headlined Coachella — and with an album on the way called “Lasso” to hype — Lana Del Rey turned up at Stagecoach to trill the Righteous Brothers’ “Unchained Melody” with Paul Cauthen, a hammy up-and-comer with a booming baritone and a televangelist’s fashion sense. No idea what kind of relationship these two might share in real life, but together onstage they brought a touch of slightly creepy glamour to the desert. — M.W.
A fan sits up high and is silhouetted against a pyrotechnic display as Jelly Roll performs on the Mane Stage on the first day of Stagecoach Country Music Festival.
(Allen J. Schaben / Los Angeles Times)
Inside the secret spots that make you feel like you’re not at a country festival
Heading into the weekend, George Michael, INXS and the Human League were among the artists I would’ve least expected to hear at Stagecoach.
But if you make your way to the password-protected Sonny’s — the ’80s-tastic speakeasy from Attaboy with a light-up dance floor and tropical print wallpaper that could have been ripped from the bedroom of one of the Golden Girls — it’s less honkytonk and more new wave.
Surrounding Sonny’s is the outdoor tiki-inspired speakeasy Tropicale from PDT, but you still get the same ‘80s tunes pumping from inside Sonny’s. You can find the secret bars near the Golden Road patio heading to Diplo’s Honkytonk.
The third speakeasy, the Basement, is also back for Stagecoach. It still has black-light posters of Cheech & Chong and neon artwork of an alien with dorm-room vibes, but it’s where you’ll hear alt-rock and mainstream hip-hop from the ’90s. When I stopped by I was greeted with a Sublime sing-along from fellow patrons followed by some Cypress Hill and Eminem. You can access it via chef Aaron May’s Porky’s barbecue pop-up near the rainbow Spectra tower. — V.F.
One to watch
Is it too early to anoint the next Zach Bryan? Wyatt Flores, a 22-year-old singer-songwriter from Bryan’s home state of Oklahoma, seemed to be gunning for the job in an impressive set on the Palomino Stage that got the place shouting along at top volume, as folks do with Bryan at his famously rowdy gigs. With a scraped-up voice and a pained-looking expression on his face, Flores sang ragged yet cathartic emo-country songs about bottoming out emotionally; he also added the Fray to the list of 1990s/2000s rock acts shaping the sound of modern Nashville with a punked-up rendition of that band’s “How to Save a Life.” — M.W.
Elle King performs on the Mane Stage on opening day of the Stagecoach Country Music Festival at the Empire Polo Club in Indio.
(Allen J. Schaben / Los Angeles Times)
A difference of opinion
Her dad, comedian Rob Schneider, has lately reoriented his career around railing against what he calls “woke bull—.” But Elle King introduced her cover of Tyler Childers’ “Jersey Giant” with as woke a set of instructions as I heard all day: “Grab someone you know. If not, ask permission.” — M.W.
Best country singer dressed for her performance as a European milkmaid: Hailey Whitters
Hailey Whitters performs Friday on the Mane Stage at Stagecoach.
(Allen J. Schaben / Los Angeles Times)
Real Swiss Miss energy. — M.W.
Most stylish cowboy hat worn by an artist who also played Coachella: Carin León
The rootsy yet polished Mexican singer and songwriter was the first Spanish-language act to play a full set at Stagecoach, a sign of both his popularity and that of the regional Mexican music that also took him (and Mexico’s Peso Pluma) to Coachella this month. — M.W.
Carin León performs Friday on the Palomino Stage.
(Allen J. Schaben / Los Angeles Times)
Right where they belong
“Very strange to be playing a country festival,” Nickelback frontman Chad Kroeger said not long into the band’s late-night set, but it wasn’t really: Nashville has been absorbing Nickelback’s caveman-rock lessons for years, as Kroeger reminded us when he brought out Hardy (who shares Nickelback’s longtime producer, Joey Moi) to yowl his happily knuckle-dragging “Sold Out.” — M.W.
Movie Reviews
Miyamoto says he was surprised Mario Galaxy Movie reviews were even harsher than the first | VGC
Nintendo’s Shigeru Miyamoto says he’s surprised at the negative critical reception to the Super Mario Galaxy Movie.
As reported by Famitsu, Miyamoto conducted a group interview with Japanese media to mark the local release of The Super Mario Galaxy Movie.
During the interview, Miyamoto was asked for his views on the critical reception to the film in the West, where critics’ reviews have been mostly negative.
Miyamoto replied that while he understood some of the negative points aimed at The Super Mario Bros Movie, he thought the reception would be better for the sequel.
“It’s true: the situation is indeed very similar,” he said. “Actually, regarding the previous film, I felt that the critics’ opinions did hold some validity. “However, I thought things would be different this time around—only to find that the criticism is even harsher than it was before.
“It really is quite baffling: here we are—having crossed over from a different field—working hard with the specific aim of helping to revitalize the film industry, yet the very people who ought to be championing that cause seem to be the ones taking a passive stance.”
As was the case with the first film, opinion is divided between critics and the public on The Super Mario Galaxy Movie. On review aggregate site Rotten Tomatoes, the film currently has a critics’ score of 43% , while its audience score is 89%.
While this is down from the first film’s scores (which were 59% critics and 95% public) it does still appear to imply that the film’s target audience is generally enjoying it despite critical negativity.
The negative reception is unlikely to bother Universal and Illumination too much, considering the film currently has a global box office of $752 million before even releasing in Japan, meaning a $1 billion global gross is becoming increasingly likely.
Elsewhere in the interview, Miyamoto said he hoped the film would perform well in Japan, especially because it has a unique script rather than a simple localization as in other regions.
“The Japanese version is a bit unique,” he said. “Normally, we create an English version and then localize it for each country, but for the first film, we developed the English and Japanese scripts simultaneously. For this film, we didn’t simply localize the completed English version – instead, we rewrote it entirely in Japanese to create a special Japanese version.
“So, if this doesn’t become a hit in Japan, I feel a sense of pressure – as the person in charge of the Japanese version – to not let [Illumination CEO and film co-producer] Chris [Meledandri] down.
“However, judging by the reactions of the audience members who’ve seen it, I feel that Mario fans are really embracing it. I also believe we’ve created a film that people can enjoy even if they haven’t seen the previous one, so I’m hopeful about that as well.”
Entertainment
Review: Monica Lewinsky, a saint? This devastatingly smart romance goes there
Book Review
Dear Monica Lewinsky
By Julia Langbein
Doubleday: 320 pages, $30
If you buy books linked on our site, The Times may earn a commission from Bookshop.org, whose fees support independent bookstores.
First loves can be beautiful or traumatic, sometimes both. They are almost always intense, with emotions on speed dial and hormones running amok. Nothing like the durable consolations of late-life romance, but headier, more exciting and, in the worst cases, far more damaging.
Even decades later, Jean Dornan, the protagonist of Julia Langbein’s smart, poignant and involving novel “Dear Monica Lewinsky,” can’t recollect her own first love in tranquility. Its after-effects have derailed her life, and an unexpected email invitation to attend a retirement party in France honoring her former lover sends her into a tailspin.
An agitated Jean finds herself praying to none other than Monica Lewinsky, the patron saint of bad romantic choices, or as Langbein puts it, “of those who suffer venal public shaming and patriarchal cruelty.” In Langbein’s comic, but also deadly serious, imagination, this is no mere metaphor. The martyred Monica has literally been transfigured into a saint. And why not? Surely, she has suffered enough to qualify.
Jean and Monica have in common a disastrous liaison with an attractive, powerful, married older man. Monica was humiliated, reviled, then merely defined by her missteps. Meanwhile, her arguably more culpable sexual partner survived impeachment, retained both his political popularity and his marriage and enjoyed a lucrative post-presidency.
Jean’s brief fling during the summer of 1998 coincided with the public airing of Monica’s doomed romance. Jean’s passion took a more private toll, but she still lives with what Monica calls “this deepening suspicion that your existence is a remnant of an event long since concluded.”
Though framed by a fantastical conceit, “Dear Monica Lewinsky” is at its core a realist novel, influenced by the feminism of #MeToo and precise in its delineation of character and place. Langbein’s Monica — having finally transcended her past and ascended to spiritual omniscience — becomes Jean’s interlocutor. Together, they relive the fateful weeks that Jean spent studying the Romanesque churches of medieval France and charming David Harwell, the Rutgers University medieval art professor co-leading the summer program.
Every now and again, Monica, as much savvy therapist as all-knowing seer, interrupts Jean’s first-person account to offer guidance. Threaded through the narrative, as contrast and commentary, is a martyrology of female saints. These colloquially rendered portraits, reflecting a punitive, patriarchal morality, describe girls and women who would rather endure torture or even death than sully their sexual purity — stories so extreme that they seem satirical.
The portraits play off the novel’s milieu: a series of churches, as well as the medieval French castle that is home to an eccentric and mostly absent prince. The utility of religious doctrine and practice is another of the book’s themes. One graduate student, Patrick, is a devoted Roman Catholic, unquestioning in his faith. Others are merely devout enthusiasts of medieval architecture. Judith, a doctoral candidate at Harvard, has an addiction of her own: an eating disorder that threatens to disable her.
A rising junior at Rutgers, Jean is one of just two undergraduates in the program. Her initial dull, daunting task involves measuring and otherwise assessing the churches’ “apertures” — windows and doors. Later, she is assigned to collaborate on a guidebook and write a term paper.
A language major unversed in art, architecture or medieval history, Jean feels overwhelmed at times. But she does have useful talents: fluent French and the ability to conjure delicious Sunday dinners for her bedazzled colleagues. (The author of the 2023 novel “American Mermaid,” Langbein has both a doctorate in art history and a James Beard Foundation Journalism Award for food writing, and her expertise in both fields is evident.)
As the summer wanes, Jean’s fixation on David grows. Langbein excels at depicting the obsessive nature of illicit, unfulfilled desire — how it swamps judgment and just about everything else. A quarter-century Jean’s senior, David is trying to finish a stalled book project, laboring in the shadow of his more prolific and successful wife, Ann. An expert on the erotically charged religious life of nuns and the art it produced, she shows up briefly in the story and then conveniently disappears.
David is smooth, seductive and, to 19-year-old Jean, far more appealing than the fumbling schoolboys she has known. But he turns out to be no more grown-up or emotionally mature. After the flirtation and its consummation, David beats a hasty (and unsurprising) retreat. Then he does something worse: He allows his guilt to shred his integrity.
In the aftermath of that summer, a wounded Jean stumbles through her last two years of college, “berserk, unfocused, humiliating.” She abandons her academic and career ambitions, takes a job as a court interpreter, and marries Michael, an affable nurse who has little idea of her emotional burdens.
Then that invitation, inspiring “a racy heat,” arrives, and Jean must decide whether to confront her past or keep running from it. Is there really much of a choice? Fortunately, she has the saintly Monica as her guide. More clear-eyed now, Jean must reject her martyrdom and reclaim her own truth and agency. If she does, David, at least in the realm of the imagination, may finally get his comeuppance.
Klein, a three-time finalist for the National Book Critics Circle’s Nona Balakian Citation for Excellence in Reviewing, is a cultural reporter and critic in Philadelphia.
Movie Reviews
‘I Swear’ Review – Heart Sans Sap, Cursing Aplenty
The sixth outing in the director’s chair for filmmaker Kirk Jones, I Swear dramatizes the real-life story of touretter John Davidson (played by Robert Aramayo). Tourette’s Syndrome, for those unfamiliar with the condition, is a nervous system disorder that causes various tics, the most prolific being erratic and explicit language. However, as I Swear expertly showcases, the syndrome is far more than ill-timed outbursts of curse words. Davidson’s story is one of societal frustration, finding your people (both with and without the condition), and using your voice to help others rise. The subject and subject matter are handled with absolute care and understanding under Kirk’s measured vision and Robert Aramayo’s BAFTA-winning performance.
The film kicks off with the greatest exclamation to democracy ever uttered (*%#! the Queen!), as a nervous John Davidson prepares himself before entering an awards ceremony hosted by Britain’s royal family. Right away, the film tells us what it is: a triumph over adversity that blends humor and human drama with education. It’s an important setup, as the film flashes back to Davidson’s 1980s youth, where we see his time as a star soccer recruit flatline as his condition takes hold. Davidson’s life spirals from there. Some aspects, like school bullying and accidental run-ins with authority figures, are expected but important to empathizing with young Davidson’s (young version, played with heart by Scott Ellis Watson) new everyday life. The more tragic, a complete meltdown of his family system, is unsettling if quick. His father (Steven Cree) is never given enough screen time to explore his alcohol coping tendencies. However, his mother Heather’s descent into easy fixes and blaming is crushing and convincing. Harry Potter series actress Shirley Henderson (Moaning Myrtle) gives a layered performance as Heather. Someone who loves her son, but also feels cursed by him as the entire family exits the picture. It’s bitter, she’s tired, and fills each conversation with ‘only medication and your mother can save you’ energy.
From there, the viewer and Davidson find refuge in a host of characters. Maxine Peake plays Dottie, the mother of a childhood friend and a retired mental health nurse. Screen vet Peter Mullan plays maintenance man Tommy Trotter. Together, they help Davidson build a life and an understanding of himself that carries the film forward into its second half. After that, the film is primarily a 3-actor show as director Kirk fills the screen with these tour-de-force performances. Peake and Mullan are great vessels to get the film’s main message across: patience, love, and a shared responsibility between the diagnosed and those who understand their struggle can help change the path for people quickly left behind by a normative world. Together, they are the soul of the movie, with the filmmakers clearly hoping the audience will follow their lead after they exit the theater (in my case, the beautiful Oriental Theater for the Milwaukee Film Festival). Both performances are perfectly warm and reflective and shouldn’t be left out in discussions of I Swear.
I say this because the movie is anchored by The Rings of Power actor Robert Aramayo, who leaves Elrond’s elf ears behind to bring an acute naturalism to his performance of main character John Davidson. Aramayo’s physicality and timing of the fitful Tourettes Syndrome never feel out of place or overplayed. In fact, the movie as a whole does an amazing job of never veering into sentimentality. While many moviegoers left with tissues dabbing their eyes, the filmmaking never felt like it was forcing that reaction out of audiences. It straddles the line between feel-good and reality with every story beat and lands squarely on the side of letting the real inform our feelings. Anyone with an ounce of empathy will grasp the film’s message and hopefully take it with them into life.
I Swear continues at the Milwaukee Film Festival on Tuesday, April 21st, and releases nationwide April 24th, 2026, courtesy of Sony Pictures Classics.
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