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‘Beef’ is less rare in Season 2, but still well done

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‘Beef’ is less rare in Season 2, but still well done

Carey Mulligan as Lindsay.

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There was something special about Lee Sung Jin’s Beef when it premiered on Netflix in 2023. The sometimes surreal but always emotionally grounded dramedy was premised upon how one minor, negative interaction between strangers — in that case, a road rage incident involving a struggling contractor (Steven Yeun) and a well-to-do business owner (Ali Wong) – can open the floodgates for misdirected anger and surface long unexamined disappointments and unrelated resentments. It tapped into something both mundane and potent, cleverly dramatizing a general sense of societal chaos via two richly-rendered Asian American leads.

Three years later, and Season 2 finds Lee swapping in an entirely new cast while pivoting the locus of ire. At its center are two couples: Josh (Oscar Isaac) and Lindsay (Carey Mulligan), the married general manager and interior designer of a Montecito, Calif. country club, and fiancés Ashley (Cailee Spaeny) and Austin (Charles Melton), low-level staff members at the club. In the opening episode, the latter couple accidentally happen upon Josh and Lindsay having a nasty drag-out fight that, from outside looking in, appears on the verge of turning violent.

As Beef reiterates many times in various ways, Austin and Ashley are Gen Z — so, naturally they capture the argument on video. The video’s existence is the first small cut of beef, which quickly ripples out to meatier and more consequential beefs, entanglements and manipulations. The younger pair, dissatisfied with their low wages and lack of health benefits, sees an opportunity to leverage what they’ve documented, and they do. But Josh and Lindsay have a lot more drama going on besides a sexless, unhappy marriage; despite their proximity to wealth and seemingly cushy lifestyle, they’re drowning in debt, and Josh’s employment at the club is in limbo as his contract nears its end. Predictably, both couples turn to extreme (and extremely illegal) measures to meet their wants and needs.

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Season 1 was equally, if not more so, interested in the knotty personal lives of Yeun’s Danny and Wong’s Amy, apart from their beef with one another. Season 2 benefits from taking this same approach, though with far more primary characters to flesh out and intertwining storylines to serve, it can become unwieldy. To get across a heavily underlined message that “capitalism is soul-sucking,” an entirely separate and somewhat uninspired international plot dovetails with the quartet’s mess. Still, it’s fun to see Youn Yuh-jung leans into her role as Chairwoman Park, the shrewd and menacing billionaire owner of the club whose own dirty laundry drives much of the high-octane action in the back half of the season. (Ditto the great Song Kang-ho as Dr. Kim, the chairwoman’s much younger husband who has a poignant moment in a late episode.)

The digs at capitalism probably feel overdone because of how the media landscape looks now. It seems as if nearly every show or movie in recent memory throws in a corrupt wealthy person (or several) to comment on the disparities between the haves and have nots (The White Lotus, Triangle of Sadness, The Girlfriend) or presents middle-aged married couples wading through malaise and regret (DTF St. Louis, Fleishman Is In Trouble, plenty of Nicole Kidman projects). But it also seems like this iteration of Beef struggles with narrative substance on its own; while the exact details of how its story shakes out aren’t easily predictable, some of the emotional novelty has worn off by the time we arrive at any twists. (This is also true of some of its wry observations on cultural identity, which come off rote and obvious — a running gag is that Isaac’s Josh and Melton’s Austin are frequently perceived as ethnically ambiguous to white people. Isaac is Cuban and Guatemalan; Melton is white and Korean.)

Charles Melton as Austin, Cailee Spaeny as Ashley.

Charles Melton as Austin, Cailee Spaeny as Ashley.

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Season 2 is compelling enough largely because its stars gamely tap into the spirit of the show’s M.O.; at any given moment, each character may reveal the worst of themselves, which looks different for everyone. Josh, for one, is an avoidant personality whose contempt simmers ominously for the demanding one percenter clientele he serves at the club, yet when he does explode, the limber and expressive Oscar Isaac lets him rip. In contrast, Carey Mulligan’s Lindsay is clearly exhausted from putting on airs as if everything between them is fine, and resentful of the sacrifices she feels she’s made for her increasingly distant husband at the expense of the dreams they once shared.

Lee Sung Jin and his writing team have added nice touches when it comes to Ashley and Austin, too – their relative youth reveals that media literacy and basic life skills are seriously lacking, all of which makes for silly comedic bits that Spaeny and Melton carry through handily. But even better is when the cracks in their “perfect,” non-confrontational relationship widen into a gaping abyss, reflecting and refracting that of their older counterparts.

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“Couples fight. It’s normal,” Lindsay insists to Josh in the first episode, right after they realize Austin and Ashley were in the audience for their domestic row. Neither couple is as stable as they’ve convinced themselves they are. In its best moments, the show leans into this: depicting people who are actively avoiding reality until they’re forced to confront it by the skin of their teeth.

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Why your favorite international artist might be reconsidering their next U.S. tour

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Why your favorite international artist might be reconsidering their next U.S. tour

Here’s something American concertgoers might not know: before a musician from another country can take the stage in the U.S., someone has to file paperwork with the federal government on their behalf. And not just any paperwork — a petition, hundreds of pages long, stacked with press clippings, award documentation, testimonial letters from other artists, venue contracts, a detailed tour itinerary, and evidence that the artist is legitimately accomplished at what they do.

And that’s just to start the clock in a process that may take over a year to complete.

This is the reality for international artists — from musicians to painters, dancers to comedians — who want to come to the U.S. to share their work. It’s a complicated, expensive process that arts advocates say has long made the country a difficult place for foreign artists to access. But now, they say it’s gotten much worse.

The time it takes to process a visa has dramatically increased. The number of available interview slots at U.S. embassies is backlogged. Application costs have surged. And there’s an added layer of uncertainty: paperwork can be perfect, fees can be paid, and yet artists still can be turned away at the border.

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For U.S. audiences, all of this means a quiet loss of global cultural exchange.

What does the artist visa process look like?

To illustrate the nonimmigrant visa process for artists, let’s take Kongero, a small, Swedish folk a cappella group that completed its second U.S. tour last fall.

First step: File a petition.

The group’s booking agent planned the tour and gathered all the necessary documentation to file a petition with U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services (USCIS) to demonstrate that the group qualified for a P-3 visa, the category for culturally unique artists.

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What are your most cherished memories of the 2026 World Cup in L.A.?

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What are your most cherished memories of the 2026 World Cup in L.A.?

My favorite memory of the 2026 World Cup happened last month. By the late morning of June 18 in Koreatown, hours ahead of the Mexico vs. South Korea group-stage match, it was apparent that the neighborhood would be unrecognizable by kickoff.

I had heard rumblings about the Korean Festival Foundation’s watch party, but once I found out it would take place at Seoul International Park, I was almost dissuaded entirely. Although it is the beloved destination of my dog’s morning walks, its insignificant size and awkward location just off Olympic Boulevard didn’t seem appropriate for such a coveted event. So, I went to scout it out beforehand — and I almost couldn’t believe my eyes. There were already about 100 to 200 fans in the park, about six hours before the first whistle; laughing, drinking, lending a hand to vendor setups.

My apartment is only about six-odd blocks from the park, but closer to the game, I noticed a gigantic wave of red, lavender and white jerseys already crashing toward the watch party. It took my roommates and me about 30 minutes to walk the half-mile at 4 p.m., squeezing past fervent fans to eke out a spot in front of one of the two humongous screens situated on either side of Irolo Street.

Unfortunately for us, all of the good vantage points were taken. A mass in front of both screens was impenetrable; smaller televisions hooked up to generators were already seized by 10 too many eyes; even the roofs surrounding the park were full of attendees much bolder and athletic than me. We settled on the soccer field in the park, where we could juggle a ball around a bit while watching the match on our phones (and thank you to my girlfriend’s dad for his Peacock subscription).

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The first half onscreen was mostly uneventful, but off-screen, I was able to witness a sort of camaraderie seen rarely in sprawling Los Angeles. People were swarming vendors from eateries all around Koreatown, dance circles formed around speakers blasting banda music, and “oohs” and “ahhs” at every missed shot were in perfect sync. Then, it happened: a goal in the 50th minute by Luis Romo of the Mexican side. The park and its surroundings exploded into a collective cheer that tickled my rib cage and resonated deep in my ear canal to the point I had to cover my ears. I can hardly remember if I joined the chorus, or if the excitement was so heavy that I just felt like an equal part of it.

Seeing my neighborhood in this light will stick with me much longer than the 1-0 result, or the fact that neither of these teams (both of which I partially rooted for) made it far into the tournament. But these memories, I believe, are what the World Cup is really about.

So tell us about your most cherished memory of the 2026 World Cup in L.A. so far. And remember, no moment is too small. We may feature it in an upcoming story.

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Sam Neill, known for ‘Jurassic Park’ and ‘The Piano,’ dies at 78, his family says

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Sam Neill, known for ‘Jurassic Park’ and ‘The Piano,’ dies at 78, his family says

Sam Neill arrives at the premiere of “Apples Never Fall” on March 12, 2024, in Los Angeles.

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WELLINGTON, New Zealand — Sam Neill, a smoothly elegant and versatile actor whose career moved from art film to blockbuster as he dodged velociraptors in “Jurassic Park” to playing Holly Hunter’s husband in “The Piano,” has died. He was 78.

In 2023, Neill disclosed he had been diagnosed with angioimmunoblastic T-cell lymphoma, a rare type of non-Hodgkin lymphoma. Neill died on Monday in Sydney, according to a statement posted to the actor’s social media page.

His death was “sudden and unexpected,” the statement said, adding that he “remained cancer free” when he died. A cause of death wasn’t specified.

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“Sam was surrounded by family and passed with the dignity that has characterised his whole life,” his family wrote.

Actor came to world’s notice with ‘Dead Calm’ and ‘My Brilliant Career’

Neill was one of a host of actors and directors who achieved international fame after an explosion of Australian films that began in the late 1970s, a list that includes Paul Hogan, Mel Gibson, Geoffrey Rush, Russell Crowe, Jane Campion, Peter Weir and Gillian Armstrong. His range was remarkable, playing opposite Helena Bonham Carter in the Alan Ayckbourn comedy “Sweet Revenge” to chopping off Hunter’s finger in “The Piano” to poking his own eyes out in the sci-fi horror “Event Horizon.”

In “Omen III: The Final Conflict,” he played Damien the Antichrist and he also played Cardinal Thomas Wolsey in “The Tudors.”

The actor first came to the attention of international audiences in Armstrong’s 1979 film “My Brilliant Career,” which also introduced Judy Davis. He later appeared in Phillip Noyce’s “Dead Calm,” a classy thriller set at sea and co-starring the then-relatively unknown Nicole Kidman.

Neill twice co-starred with Meryl Streep, in Australian director Fred Schepisi’s “Plenty” and — again for Schepisi — in “A Cry in the Dark,” a film about the sensationalized aftermath of a dingo killing a baby in the Australian Outback. He earned an Emmy nomination for his performance in the title role of the 1998 miniseries “Merlin” and another as narrator of 2017’s “Wild New Zealand.”

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