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In Netflix's ‘The Residence,' Uzo Aduba doesn't tell jokes — but she's seriously funny

In Netflix's ‘The Residence,' Uzo Aduba doesn't tell jokes — but she's seriously funny

When Uzo Aduba's mother was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, the actor stepped into the role of caregiver until her mother's death. During the grievous period, the three-time Emmy winner etched the beginnings of a memoir, published last year, called 'The Road Is Good: How a Mother's Strength Became a Daughter's Purpose.' In it, Aduba writes, 'This is a story not about death but about life. This is my mother's story as much as it is my own.' That deep connection to her mother has come to define her.
'The woman that I have become is founded on the way I was mothered. I am the daughter of Nonyem Aduba, and so much of the way she moved through life as a woman — not only did it impact and shape my fortitude and commitment to working hard, but even how I see characters, specifically female characters, is built off the teachings that were poured into me as a daughter.'
Best known among those characters is certainly Suzanne 'Crazy Eyes' Warren on Netflix's 'Orange Is the New Black,' a breakout role for which Aduba earned two Emmy Awards. That performance opened other doors, including portraying former politician and presidential candidate Shirley Chisholm in Hulu's 2020 miniseries 'Mrs. America.' Her galvanizing depiction brought a third Emmy. 'People really did take a real liking to her as a human, despite the politics, which I think is fascinating given the time. We're talking about a woman, a Black woman in a very specific chapter in American history, so close to the Civil Rights Act,' she says of coming to understand Chisholm.
Have such successes validated her journey as an actor, one she nearly gave up on in leaner days? 'I became an actor because I loved the creation of art, to tell stories,' she says. 'However, I, too, have felt the worry looming from the artist's doubt: Is there space in this room for a voice like mine to exist? And I'd say that, throughout the years, these wins, given to me by my peers, have left me encouraged to believe that yes, there is.'
Her voice comes now by way of Cordelia Cupp, a full-time birder and part-time crime solver in Netflix's 'The Residence,' from creator Paul William Davies. The eight-episode whodunit, from Shonda Rhimes' production company, Shondaland, is set in the halls of the White House, where the death of one of its East Wing employees during a state dinner party triggers panic.
Enter the cape-wearing Cupp with her superhero ability to read people and spot clues. For Aduba, the character jumped off the page. 'I remember reading the material, and she had this power that was really present for me. It would seem like she would get just a grain of information and there would suddenly be a wealth of knowledge that she was able to extract from it.'
Finding the character's mannerisms was another central study. 'She read like somebody who spoke really fast because she processes information really quickly. So I wanted her to be able to speak as fast as possible and for us to get inside the head of how she does her investigative work,' she says. 'This is a woman who listens to the proposition you said, then she's like a hawk — pun intended — perched up on the investigative table. So I started thinking this might be an exercise of stillness both when she speaks and when she listens.'
That stillness — an uncomfortable silence to many — often leads those being questioned to fill the void with more information than they intended to share. During one magnetic monologue, where Cupp pieces the clues together to whom she believes is the killer, we see all the cogs of her intelligence and humor turning swiftly. 'She takes her job very seriously, and for me to achieve that technically, it inspired this idea of flatlining her a little bit. It felt like she's not here to tell jokes but what she says is funny. She's five feet gone past the joke, and you're like, 'Wait, what did she just say?''
Aduba's full name is Uzoamaka Nwanneka Aduba. She was born in Massachusetts to Nigerian immigrants and, as a teen, was an exceptional figure skater: one who could land double axels with a practiced ease that betrayed the intense commitment behind them. She attended Boston University on a track-and-field scholarship as a sprinter, studying classical voice and discovering acting. Today, she's the mother to a daughter and seems to have softened her intensity: She has a passion for cooking, reading books (Paulo Coelho's 'The Alchemist' is a favorite) and watching reality television. Her guilty pleasure: 'The Real Housewives.'
And she still holds her time as a caregiver close, recently providing the narration for Bradley Cooper's documentary 'Caregiving,' which is a hard look at care in America. She connected with Cooper's story of caring for his father during his fight with lung cancer. 'I know what that life looks like. I know what that world is. I know what it means to be juggling your front-facing life with your private life, your professional responsibilities with your familial desires,' Aduba says.
'I could just see a lot of myself in those stories, and that made it a real no-brainer for me,' she adds. 'This is an opportunity to try and spotlight that work happening every single day, and we might, through this process, alleviate some of the stress and the overwhelming feelings that come with that invisible labor.'
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Parents In Other Countries Do This 1 Thing — And American Kids Might Be Missing Out.
Parents In Other Countries Do This 1 Thing — And American Kids Might Be Missing Out.

Yahoo

time38 minutes ago

  • Yahoo

Parents In Other Countries Do This 1 Thing — And American Kids Might Be Missing Out.

My son, age 14, loves watching the Japanese show 'Old Enough' on Netflix. The premise is that young children — ages 4, 3 and even 2 — are sent to run errands by themselves. Cleverly disguised camera crews trail them on their journeys while their parents wait for them at home or some other predetermined meeting point. The kids walk though neighborhoods, cross the street, navigate public transit and manage interactions with shopkeepers. One little girl carries her mother's work pants to be mended. Another child purchases dumplings from a vendor. The children's focus and determination is captivating, and it's impossible not to become invested in their success at the task. The kids are also adorable. Their reactions and facial expressions regularly crack my son up. But that isn't the show's only allure. The sheer implausibility of the whole endeavor draws him in. 'You would've never let me do something like this,' he observed. 'You would've been freaking out.' He's not wrong. When he was 3, I likely would've sent him hang gliding before allowing him to cross the street alone. But my parenting instincts aren't just a product of my own neuroses. They're part of a culture, and here in the U.S. we've developed a culture of overprotectiveness and fear when it comes to kids acting independently. By keeping them safely within arms' reach, what are our kids missing out on? And what are some ways we could give them the opportunity to practice these vital life skills? What kids' independence looks like in other countries. Japan isn't the only nation where you can find kids navigating a town's streets and public transportation without adult supervision. Mei-Ling Hopgood lived in Argentina as a new mother, writing about the experience in her book 'How Eskimos Keep Their Babies Warm,' in which she explores parenting practices around the globe. She noted that it was common in Argentina and in other countries to see children commuting to and from school without adults. In some places, the reasons behind this particular independence are structural. Not all families have cars, so the only options may be walking, biking or taking public transit. Another factor is parents' level of trust in their community. When they send their kids out of the house, do they assume they will be safe and that the adults they interact with will be helpful and trustworthy? In Argentina, Hopgood saw signs of trust in the community of surrounding adults. 'If a child is crossing the street, not with a parent, or if an older person is crossing the street and needs help, they will take your hands. For example, when I would take the girls back to Argentina when they were little, the drivers that would pick us up, a man they did not know, would take their hands and walk them to the car,' she said, much to the surprise of her daughters, who by then were living in the U.S. 'The thinking [is] that adults are there to help you,' Hopgood told HuffPost. This includes men and even men you don't know, and was a real shift from the 'stranger danger' panic that permeated her American childhood. It was 'notable to me because of the bias against men being nurturing people, or they are the strangers you should be afraid of.' Journalist Michaeleen Doucleff observed a similar kind of autonomy among the Maya, Inuit and Hadzabe children that she observed when researching her book 'Hunt, Gather, Parent.' Children in these cultures, she told HuffPost, 'have enormous freedom to decide where they go, what they do and who they're with. Parents and older kids are around them, observing and ensuring they are safe. But generally their movements and actions are their own.' Again, there is a shared assumption that children are safe moving throughout the community. This autonomy extends to kids setting their own schedules — deciding when do go to bed, for example (an often fraught topic for American parents that has generated the profession of sleep consultant). In general, kids were entrusted with a multitude of what an American would likely consider 'adult' responsibilities: 'They use knives and the stove. They help take care of younger siblings (playing with them, changing diapers, feeding them). They take care of animals or a family garden. They learn to hunt, slaughter/butcher animals, make clothes. They work at local stores. They climb trees, gather firewood or forage for food,' Doucleff said. This trust in children's ability to handle things includes managing their emotions and speaking for themselves. 'They are allowed to get upset, have tantrums, without being scolded or forced to control their emotions very early,' Doucleff said. In addition, she said, 'parents allow children to talk for themselves' rather than answering questions directed at them on their behalf or prompting them with what to say. Other cultures also have a higher tolerance for risk when it comes to kids' behavior. Helen Russell, author of the forthcoming 'The Danish Secret to Happy Kids' (released already in Britain as 'How to Raise a Viking'), observed in Denmark that children often take risks in their extensive outdoor play and are expected to resolve conflicts among themselves when they arise. Likewise, children speak for themselves and are expected to dress themselves (including the all-important snowsuit!) and feed themselves, rather than being told by adults what to say, what to wear and when and what to eat. Danish children, Russell told HuffPost, are allowed to pretty much 'roam free,' and the same is true in other Nordic countries. 'Icelandic children are all allowed to roam free until a state-sanctioned 'curfew' in the summer holidays, when Iceland enjoys 24-hour sun. So, come July, 13- to 16-year-olds are allowed to run wild until midnight, while children up to the age of 12 get to hang out until 10 p.m.,' she said. Why it's important to foster kids' independence. Letting children travel about, do chores and play without interference from adults can allow the adults more time to get their own work done and might seem to require less effort. Doucleff, however, noted that it's not that parents are letting their children go unattended. 'Adults keep a close eye to ensure kids are safe. So it's not about simply doing less.' The key difference, she explained, is that 'parents don't interfere with children's actions and movements, especially during play.' Kids, not adults, are the ones who truly reap the rewards of this dynamic. 'Lack of autonomy is strongly associated with anxiety and depression,' Doucleff said, while 'high levels of autonomy are linked to confidence, drive and all-around better mental health. In the communities I visited in 'Hunt, Gather, Parent,' children had these in spades.' Autonomy, she explained, 'enables children to learn adult skills ... . So they can be active contributors to their families and not simply attended to by their parents.' We know that being able to contribute meaningfully can help kids feel a sense of mattering, which is protective of their mental health. Knowing that adults trust them to get from one place to another or use the kitchen knives helps them believe in their own abilities and gives them opportunities to 'learn on their own, make mistakes on their own,' Hopgood said. Experience teaches them that they can figure things out for themselves and overcome challenges. Russell explained that all the outdoor play kids engage in in Denmark, in spite of frigid weather, also has a positive effect on their well-being. 'Studies show that spending time outdoors improves well-being and cooperation, reduces stress, helps with concentration and evens out differences between low-achieving and high-achieving children,' she said. Hopgood, a journalism professor at Northwestern University, noted that here in the U.S. we are beginning to see the effect of a lack of independence once these children head off to college. 'Students coming to university, [their] maturity and responsibility level is years below what they were some years ago. Because of many reasons, but parents have done so much for them.' Without practice, kids lack problem-solving skills and confidence in their ability to tackle challenges without their parents' help. Ways parents can help kids gain independence. There's no need to move all the way to Latin America or Scandinavia to help your kids learn independence. Some communities, by their design, are more conducive to kids' autonomy than others, and some places are also simply safer. But even within the confines of your own home, there are steps you can take to encourage this growth. 'It's about having confidence in children's ability to learn and grow at a young age without the need for constant interference from adults,' Doucleff said. Doucleff measured her own interference in her children's lives by counting how many times per hour she gave them commands. ('Eat two more bites, please.' 'Give me the ball.') She initially found that this number was 120 — which is in line with what most kids experience in Western cultures. 'In cultures with autonomous children, parents give only two to three commands per hour. So a hundred times fewer! It's radically different than the approach that's common in the U.S.,' she said. She encourages parents to use their cellphones to record their own interactions with their children and count the number of commands they are giving now and make a goal of getting that number down to three per hour. You can start slow, by having a low-command hour just once a day, perhaps at the playground. She also recommends that parents take some time to observe their children. 'See what their interests are but also their skill level. Then you know when to back off and be confident that they've got the situation handled or when to jump in to help if they need it.' Focus on building up their independence in a specific domain by 'teaching them skills they need to handle any dangers or problems that may arise in these environments,' such as using knives and electrical plugs, crossing streets or watching for cars. 'Then schedule time in their week to simply be autonomous in these environments (without devices),' she said. You don't have to start by letting them roam free all afternoon. Instead, you might begin by letting them walk home from school with a sibling or group of friends. If they're interested in cooking, you could plan to let them make breakfast for themselves on Saturday mornings. 'A little goes a long way,' Doucleff said. 'Just adding a few hours of autonomy each week will help your child immensely. You'll see a huge difference in their anxiety, behavior and overall confidence and self-sufficiency.' Related... What Is Child Endangerment? When Leaving Your Child Alone Becomes A Crime. 9 Parenting Practices From Around The World That May Totally Surprise You 11 Seemingly Innocent Phrases You Shouldn't Say To Kids

Culture wars come to Netflix in sapphic drama 'The Hunting Wives'
Culture wars come to Netflix in sapphic drama 'The Hunting Wives'

NBC News

time40 minutes ago

  • NBC News

Culture wars come to Netflix in sapphic drama 'The Hunting Wives'

In the grand tradition of shows with 'wives' in the title, Netflix's new drama 'The Hunting Wives' is a salacious soap centered on women behaving badly. But something is noticeably different in this east Texas town, where the wives of a conservative gubernatorial candidate, county sheriff and local megachurch reverend carry guns in their handbags. And despite their supposed traditional values and MAGA politics, several of these women are engaged in extramarital affairs — with each other. Based on the novel by May Cobb, creator and executive producer Rebecca Cutter's 'The Hunting Wives' expands on the original's 'Single White Female' premise, transplanting Brittany Snow's Sophie from Cambridge, Massachusetts, to an NRA meeting upon her red-state arrival with her architect husband, Graham (Evan Jonigkeit). A former 'political publicist' on the Democratic side, Sophie immediately escapes to the bathroom for a Xanax and meets Margo Banks (Malin Akerman), the captivating, uninhibited wife of Graham's new boss and would-be politician, Jed Banks (Dermot Mulroney). Moral posturing is the name of the game down in this Texas town, where everything is bigger — including the charades. Most headlines about 'The Hunting Wives' revolve around Akerman's larger-than-life Margo, who, even in a bad wig, entrances Sophie alongside the rest of her legion with her feminine wiles and flirtatious attention. She and Jed have an 'arrangement' ('Open marriages are for liberals,' she tells Sophie). 'I don't sleep with other men, and if Jed and I see a girl we like, we go for it.' But Mrs. Banks isn't one for rules, so she's having dalliances with more than just whom her husband agrees to, and Sophie drops her liberal convictions to be with Margo quicker than she can unhook her bra. Soon enough, Sophie is keeping secrets from her husband, just like the rest of the wives, until the murder of a local cheerleader threatens to blow everyone's carefully manicured covers. Of course ethical nonmonogamy and sexual fluidity exist in Texas (the bi-curious, membership-based Skirt Club has regular events in Houston, Dallas and Austin), but unlike the 'deplorable' coastal elites, the residents of the fictional town of Maple Brook wouldn't dare bring up that kind of thing in polite conversation. Hypocrisy abounds in 'The Hunting Wives,' which debuted at No. 3 on Netflix last week with 5.2 million views and climbed to No. 1 on the platform's U.S. Daily Top 10 chart. With all of the attention the show is receiving, viewer reactions have proved feverish, with fans across party lines gamely questioning their sexuality after witnessing Margo's effects on Sophie (as well as Callie, another friend and sapphic lover who gets jilted once Sophie comes to town). The bisexual (emphasis on the sexual) nature of the show has been a central focus of most reviews and fan commentary, but, interestingly, there's much less homophobic reaction than there is criticism of Margo's secret affair with the 18-year-old son of her friend and the local reverend. Viewers, conservative and liberal alike, are majorly invested in the world of 'The Hunting Wives.' It's Margo's world, from Reddit threads to TikTok hot takes, and we're all living for it. Akerman has been feeling the love for her deliciously duplicitous character and said she finds Margo's contradictions are ultimately representative of humanity more broadly. 'I think that we people have a certain vision of how society works and marriage works and how we should be and what's asked of us,' she told NBC News. 'This [show] tests those boundaries. Absolutely, I feel like humans are fluid people. We don't need to be put into one category, and I think it's OK to slide that scale and ask yourself and be whatever you feel like being, instead of what people tell you to be.' Cutter, the creator and showrunner, said she wanted to play with paradoxes, toeing the line of satirizing the conservative culture of 'The Hunting Wives' without full-on vilifying the characters, a plight somehow achieved even when they're murdering people. Cutter points to Sophie as the resident liberal breaking her own moral code to be with Margo. 'She's not exactly somebody who's standing up for what she believes in either,' Cutter said. 'So there's hypocrisy and bad behavior on both sides.' On 'The Hunting Wives,' women having romantic and sexual relationships with one another is unspoken bad behavior. Although Jed doesn't mind his wife's sapphic leanings, his decision to run for governor requires a new kind of discretion and restraint that puts more sanctions on Margo than it does for his predilection for threesomes. Margo is key to his public persona as a good ol' boy with a classic Christian wife, and though no outright anti-gay utterings are made alongside disparaging mentions of abortion and immigration, Cutter said the homophobia was intentionally unspoken but implied. 'In the Christian world, there's going to be a level of 'that's not OK,' which everyone is then transgressing,' Cutter said. 'I think in that line, 'Open marriages are for liberals,' it's like we're coding it differently, even if the actions are the same.' As heightened as it is, 'The Hunting Wives' reflects a very real population, which may be uncomfortable for some viewers struggling to find the fun in engaging with characters whose personal lives differ from their political motivations. On the other hand, men have been rewarded several times over for playing antiheroes on screen without the same kind of scrutiny that has some reviewers calling the series 'vulgar' or challenging its ability to be referred to as a 'queer show.' It may be frustrating to acknowledge that people's sex lives don't always align with their public personas and voting habits, but 'The Hunting Wives' confronts the ways in which sanctimony is frequently a cover for self-destructive secrets — and neither political party has a monopoly on that. Conservative, gun-toting Texas provides a solid setting for a series like 'The Hunting Wives' to toy with conventions — which ultimately makes it enjoyable for most viewers to enter for eight fun and sexy episodes. 'We're so polarized as a nation,' Cutter said, 'and it's not a serious show. So I think ultimately people just enjoy the ride.' Having enjoyed success just two weeks into its debut, fans are hopeful a second season is imminent. Would there be a world in which an openly gay 'hunting wife' joins the ranks? Cutter said she hadn't thought about it: 'That's a great idea.'

‘King of the Hill' and ‘Gumball' are back, and I tell you what, it's about time
‘King of the Hill' and ‘Gumball' are back, and I tell you what, it's about time

Los Angeles Times

time2 hours ago

  • Los Angeles Times

‘King of the Hill' and ‘Gumball' are back, and I tell you what, it's about time

I will say this: I should be watching more cartoons. It has been harder to indulge this passion for some of the best, most pleasurable work television has to offer with so many ordinary series fighting for my professional time and attention, but here and now I make a more or less midyear resolution to get back to them. Please hold me to it. Two great animated series are posting new seasons after long hiatuses (neither on the original platform, both on Hulu). 'King of the Hill,' which ran on Fox from 1997 to 2009, lives anew with 10 fresh episodes streaming Monday; 'The Amazing World of Gumball' (2011-2019), one of the greatest products of a great age of Cartoon Network, is back as 'The Wonderfully Weird World of Gumball,' in a 20-episode season now available. (Earlier seasons of both shows are available on the platform.) Each is under the protection of their original creators; both are their easily recognizable, extremely different old selves. Visually, there is little to no difference between one multi-camera sitcom and the next, one single-camera mockumentary sitcom and the next, one single-camera non-mockumentary and the next, one CBS police procedural and the next. But every cartoon creates its individual grammar, its dynamic, its world, its synergy between the image and the actors, its level of awkwardness of slickness. (The voice actors, I mean — animators are also actors.) There are trends, of course, in shapes and line and ways to render a mouth or an eyeball, and much drawing is drawn from the history of the medium, because art influences artists. But the spectrum is wide, and novelty counts for a lot. Created by Ben Bocquelet, 'Gumball' doesn't settle for a single style — that is to say, not settling is its style. The characters comprise a hodgepodge, nay, an encyclopedia of visual references, dimensions, materials and degrees of resolution, and include traditional 2-D animation, puppet animation, photo collage and live-action, usually set against a photographic background and knit into a world whose infinite variety seems nothing short of inevitable. (Netflix's late 'The Epic Tales of Captain Underpants' is the only other cartoon with such a range of modes. Like many modern cartoons (excepting anime, which I would argue is a different, if widely influential, art), its main characters are children. Gumball, currently voiced by Alkaio Thiele, is a blue cat, the son of a cat mother and a rabbit father; he has a pink rabbit little sister, Anais (Kinza Syed Khan), and an adoptive brother, Darwin (Hero Hunter in the new season), a pet goldfish who grew legs and gets around quite easily in the air. Their middle-school classmates include a ghost, a cloud, a banana, an ice cream cone, a daisy, a balloon, a cactus, a T. Rex and a flying eyeball. Gumball's girlfriend, Penny (Teresa Gallagher) is a shape-shifting yellow fairy. Each is rendered in a different style, and that is just the tip of the animated iceberg. Like the best cartoons ostensibly made for kids, it doesn't underestimate its audience, what it might understand or can handle. Many 'Gumball' episodes devolve into a sort of authentically disturbing horror movie, including the last episode of the original series, which saw the characters frighteningly transformed into realistic animated children and a void opening just before the closing credits. It also demonstrates an adult skepticism about the world that might profitably infect young minds. There are critiques of capitalism, consumerism and online culture: In the first episode of the new season, an evil talking hamburger controls the corporate universe; in another, mother Nicole (Gallagher again) is seduced into virtual reality by a lonely, jealous chatbot. The decade and a half since 'King of the Hill' went off the air — surreptitiously, if obviously, referenced in a remark about 'that cooking show that Fox stupidly canceled 15 years ago' — is not exactly represented in the new season, but time has passed. (The characters did not age 13 years over the original series — but they grew a little.) Hank, voiced by co-creator Mike Judge, and Peggy Hill (Kathy Najimy), returning to Arlen, Texas, from Saudi Arabia, where Hank had been exercising his expertise in all things propane, are drawn older by the addition of a few wrinkles but are substantially unchanged. As a character, Hank, of course, distrusts change, though possibly not as much as the friends who gather, as before, in the alley behind his house; indeed, he worries that the love of soccer he acquired while away will reduce his standing in their eyes. Peggy, on the other hand, was enlarged by her time away; she likes to demonstrate a few words of Arabic. Both Hills are dealing uncomfortably with retirement; he looks for odd jobs, takes a stab at making beer (not that fruit-flavored stuff); she exercises. The show is set in an awkwardly drawn but highly evocative, extremely ordinary environment that perfectly serves its stories; it feels like an accurate outsider-art rendition of its middle-class Texas suburb. There is little in it that couldn't be handled as live-action situation comedy; indeed, for long stretches you can close your eyes and let it play in your head like an old-time radio show — 'Ozzie and Harriet,' or 'Vic and Sade' for the deep cut — which testifies to the quality of the writing and the performances. (Judge's voice has an unschooled quality that perfectly matches the drawing. I was once almost certain that Hank's voice was that of my friend Will Ray, a country-music guitar slinger — which would have made sense, given Judge's interest in the music and his occasional moonlighting as a bass player. That is neither here or there, but I am happy to have found a place to mention it.) Their son, Bobby (Pamela Adlon), is now an adult; little dots on his chin indicate either that he can grow a beard but neglects to shave or that he can't quite grow a beard; it doesn't seem exactly like a choice. A formerly established talent for cooking — the final episode of the original run concerned his ability to judge the quality of a cut of meat — has blossomed into his becoming a restaurateur, offering a fusion of Japanese and Texas cuisine; he is evidently good at this, though for whatever reason — more work to draw them? — his restaurant is devoid of customers. The torch he carries for sometime girlfriend Connie Souphanousinphone (Lauren Tom) occupies the other half of his storyline here. There are light topical references — a sidelong joke about the names billionaires give their children, for example — but the show happily lives in its world of day-to-day annoyances and victories. Hank is excited by a trip to the George W. Bush presidential library, but one can't imagine him with any affection for the current Oval Office occupant; he's too common-sense for that. Extreme views and conspiracy theories are loaded into Hank's pest exterminator friend Dale Gribble. The late Johnny Hardwick, who voiced him for the first six episodes of the new season, was replaced by Toby Huss. (Jonathan Joss, who played the character John Redcorn, died in a shooting this June.) Cartoons have a way of dealing with death — they don't have to — and time means no more there than the animators want it to. It's a comfortable state of being.

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