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‘Look to your elders’: Alfre Woodard shares her secret to Hollywood longevity

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‘Look to your elders’: Alfre Woodard shares her secret to Hollywood longevity

Alfre Woodard plays a retired journalist in the Netflix series The Boroughs.

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Alfre Woodard still remembers what it felt like to act in her first play as a teenager in Tulsa, Okla: “It was as if I’d been walking around on dry land my whole life, doing the breaststroke … and then just somebody came by me and tipped me in the water,” she says.

Woodard was hooked: Acting, she says, “propelled me into just the most open freedom I’ve ever felt in my life.” After college at Boston University, she moved to Los Angeles and thrust herself into the entertainment industry. Her TV and film credits include critically acclaimed roles in Hill Street Blues, Cross Creek, Crooklyn and 12 Years a Slave.

In the new Netflix series The Boroughs, Woodard plays Judy, a former journalist living in an upscale retirement community where something supernatural is preying on the residents. The ensemble cast is mostly actors over 60, while the showrunners are decades younger.

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Woodward says the generational gap led to some interesting meetings early, like a Zoom meeting held by human resources where the cast was particularly rowdy.

“It was very irreverent kind of stuff going on,” Woodard says. “We’re hearing things like ‘You can’t call people honey.’ What about baby? No, you can’t … Can I say ‘You know, your butt looks really good in those jeans?’ Just giggling and laughing. But that’s our generation, and that’s one of the things that I think we bring to The Boroughs.”

For Woodard, The Boroughs is also a chance to spotlight senior citizens, a population rarely featured prominently on screen.

“That’s the thing about accumulating years is people take away your humanity when they look at you,” she says. “But … just like anybody playing music, anybody painting, the longer you do it, the more fine-tuned you are at it. We’re constantly in the process of becoming more of our true selves. So look to your elders.”

Interview highlights

On her Emmy-winning 1983 performance on Hill Street Blues, in which she played a mother whose young son was killed by police

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I understood quickly what honesty was. Honesty in portrayal, in terms of your intention, that’s what you bring. … It’s like being on-pitch when you hit a note. Everybody can recognize a flat or a sharp note. … They know something’s off, so your job is to use your mouth, your fingers, however you’re playing the instrument. And for an actor, your body — and especially your heart and your mind — is your instrument.

On the research she did in order to play a prison warden in the 2019 film Clemency

Just walking through the prisons, you recognize the boys and the girls who … got off the track, and it was because people weren’t listening to them. They didn’t have my father or my mother or my teachers. … The great thing about being an actor is you have to learn something. Not just the skill, knowing about the skill of what your character is doing, but you have to come off your own opinions to do something. … You listen with your heart.

On representing Black culture on screen in the 1980s and ’90s

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A lot of the country and certainly the world didn’t know we were as complex and … smart and whole, because we’d never been presented that way on screen. The whole point [of] storytelling is for the help of the community, and it always has been. Since the griots, since people first stood up around the fire, we need stories like food and water. That’s how we know who we are. The recreating, the retelling of the story lets the tribe look at itself, laugh, cry, get scared — but to reflect and to know how to walk forward.

On starting Sistahs Soiree, a pre-Oscar party for Black and Latina actors

The reason I started it was people would say things like, “Oh, you’re so great, too bad there’s not any roles for Black women.” It was like, no, I have to answer you. If it’s the Queen of England, yeah, let all the Kates be Queen Elizabeth. But if there’s 99 other roles, then shame on you for not seeing all these women who are not only prolific but profound. They have a track record and they have made bank for people. … And I got tired of hearing, … [fans say] “You know who would have been better in that?” You know what, you don’t do that to the Kates, don’t that to us.

On the secret to staying in the entertainment industry for as long as she has

There’s nothing in my history to know to [give up]. I don’t know how to do that. My father would say … “Why don’t you run for [class] president?” … And that was in my school [where] there were only 10 Black kids. “Oh, you know, they’re gonna let a guy do it.” My father … goes, “Well, then you gotta figure out a way to get it from him, don’t you?” You never said, “I can’t because somebody won’t let me.”

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Ann Marie Baldonado and Nico Gonzalez Wisler produced and edited this interview for broadcast. Bridget Bentz, Molly Seavy-Nesper and Clare Lombardo adapted it for the web.

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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.

Richard Shotwell/AP Photo/Invision


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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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