
Olivier winner John Lithgow attacks Trump's second presidency as ‘a disaster' for US arts
The US president is now chair of the prestigious cultural complex (which was founded as a government-funded, bipartisan venue) and has installed new board members and a new interim leader, loyalist Ric Grenell. The board had been in the process of selecting a successor to outgoing leader Deborah Rutter, who in January announced her intention to step down after 11 years.
'Deborah Rutter was fired from her position as president – even though she'd already resigned and had [several] months to go,' said Lithgow. 'She's a very good friend of mine. We co-chaired a commission on the arts [launched by the American Academy of Arts & Sciences in 2018] and spent three years finding out the state of the arts in America [was] in crisis. Well, it's really in crisis now. First there was coronavirus, now there's this.'
Lithgow was named best actor at the Oliviers for his performance as Roald Dahl in Mark Rosenblatt's play Giant, which ran at the Royal Court last year and transfers to the West End later this month. In his acceptance speech, the actor – best known for the TV comedy 3rd Rock from the Sun – said that this moment was 'more complicated than usual' for relations between the US and the UK but that he personally felt the special relationship was 'intact'.
Lithgow described himself as 'a curious kind of hybrid Englishman', reflecting on the films and TV series he has made in the UK and his stage appearances, which have included Twelfth Night with the Royal Shakespeare Company in 2007 and The Magistrate at the National Theatre in 2012.
'I grew up with Shakespeare,' he said. 'My father was a producer of Shakespeare festivals in Ohio. He was a regional theatre artistic director. I was in 20 Shakespeare plays by the time I was 20 years old … I came over and went to Lamda [the London drama school] after my college years. When I returned, everyone thought I was English … My sister said to me: 'I'm not going to talk to you until you stop talking in that pretentious English accent!''
While assessing the current climate for the arts in the US as 'a pure disaster – really disheartening', Lithgow said that 'it gives us all something to fight for and I think the arts are animated by that. Right now, everybody is in shock.' Once that shock has passed, he acknowledged that 'bad times create good art'.
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Daily Mirror
12 minutes ago
- Daily Mirror
Painted St George's Cross on mini-roundabouts sparks debate among residents
The roundabouts were painted as the council took down flags attached to lampposts Residents have taken a flag row to the streets by painting the St George's Cross on a handful of mini roundabouts across one major UK city. People in Birmingham hit out after the Birmingham City Council announced English flags hoisted from lampposts would be removed. The Union Jack and St George's Cross had been put on display in the Weoley Castle and Northfield neighbourhoods of the city. Local residents said that they were doing this out of a sense of patriotism. However, the city council removed the flags and made a safety appeal to residents who were considering putting the flags on lampposts and other street furniture. Locals put up the Union Jack and St George's flags as part of an online movement called Operation Raise the Colours. Council chiefs ordered the flags to be taken down due to safety concerns. They said the "unauthorised items" are "dangerous" and could potentially harm motorists and pedestrians. Following the announcement, several mini roundabouts in Kings Heath and Yardley Wood have been painted, and there are reports of more being painted in other areas. The Union Jack and St George's Cross have also appeared on lampposts in the Weoley Castle and Northfield areas of the city, according to SWNS. The council said it had removed around 200 flags while upgrading streetlights to energy-efficient LED lighting. West Midlands Police said it had not yet received any complaints of criminal damage. However, the police force said it would investigate any reports of criminal damage made by the local authority or a member of the public. Residents from the areas have expressed mixed views on the transformed traffic islands. One woman in Kings Heath said: "It is nothing more than sheer, wanton vandalism. There is nothing patriotic about having a spray can and damaging a roundabout. The council can't afford to fix the potholes, let alone repaint mini islands idiots have defaced." Resident Ian Anderson, 40, said: "I certainly don't agree with vandalising roads or roundabouts, after all flags are just flags and can be taken down. However, there is a real sense that people who are proud to be British are being made to feel ashamed of their patriotism. I don't see anything wrong with flags on lampposts, it reminds me of when the World Cup or Olympics is on." Speaking to the BBC, another local said it was "not patriotic", adding: "It just feels like an excuse for xenophobia. There are better ways to show pride - ways that are inclusive and respectful, not resorting to vandalism." Several residents from the Weoley Castle and Northfield neighbourhoods in Birmingham shared with BBC Radio WM their approval of the flags being displayed. One woman said: "It's patriotic, so I think it's wonderful. It symbolises us, doesn't it, Great Britain?" Another woman said: "I believe they're fantastic, [they] bring joy to people's faces. They're harmless, just fluttering in the breeze, representing England, which is where we are, of course."


Spectator
4 hours ago
- Spectator
The remarkable life of Peter Kemp, warrior and Spectator writer
Today is the 110th anniversary of the birth of a former Spectator correspondent who took part in and survived more wars than any other English writer in modern history. Yet he is practically forgotten today because he fought all his life for unfashionable conservative causes. Peter Kemp, the son of a judge in the Indian Raj, was born in Bombay on 19 August 1915. Educated at Wellington, and destined for the law like his father, he went up to Trinity College, Cambridge, the alma mater of the notorious Communist sympathising Soviet spies Kim Philby, Guy Burgess and Anthony Blunt. Kemp gravitated to the polar opposite of his leftist contemporaries and became a right-wing Tory. As such, he abandoned his studies and determined to fight for the Nationalist side in the Spanish civil war when it broke out in the summer of 1936. Pretending to be a journalist, he obtained a press pass as a correspondent for the Sunday Dispatch newspaper, and entered the war-torn country from Portugal. Disliking the Falange, the Spanish fascist party, Kemp preferred to enlist in the cavalry of the Carlists, a monarchist faction noted for their staunch Catholicism and bravery in battle. But however romantic, these horse soldiers weren't of much use in modern warfare, and Kemp was thirsting for action, so he transferred to the Spanish Legion – the Iberian version of the French Foreign Legion – a brutal and tough outfit whose motto was 'Viva la Muerte!' (Long live death!) The Legion gave Kemp invaluable experience in the savage realities of modern warfare. Fighting alongside the Moors who were the mainstays of General Franco's army in the battles for control of Madrid's university city, Kemp was kept awake all night by the screams of a captured Republican militiaman being tortured to death by his Moorish comrades in a neighbouring lecture hall. 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But these guerilla bands were divided between nationalists and communists and Kemp's anti-communist convictions were reinforced when he realised they preferred to fight their rival compatriots rather than the Nazi and fascist enemy. Kemp collided once more against his lifelong communist foes on his next mission when he was dropped into Poland to help the anti-communist home army in the 1944 Warsaw uprising against the Nazis. After the rising was crushed – partly because Stalin refused to let the Red Army intervene – Kemp surrendered to the Russian 'allies' but found himself in Moscow, imprisoned and interrogated by the notorious NKVD, Stalin's murderous secret police. He was finally freed after several months and ended the war in Indochina helping France against the VietMinh communist revolutionaries. By now, Kemp was a hardened Cold Warrior, and as that global ideological struggle began, he found himself again and again battling his old Red enemies. He was in Budapest in 1956 when Russian tanks put down the anti-communist revolution there and he helped smuggle young Hungarian rebels to safety in Austria; and he was present in the Congo in 1960 as that vast country gained independence from Belgium while dissolving in chaotic civil strife. It was in Africa that Kemp became a special correspondent for The Spectator. In the 1970s, The Spectator's editor, Alexander Chancellor, was persuaded, despite his liberal tendencies, to employ the old warrior (who had passed his pensionable age) as a special correspondent in Rhodesia to report on the bitter bush war between the minority white regime of Ian Smith and Robert Mugabe's black guerilla army. As might be expected, Kemp's sympathies lay with the embattled Smith regime, but he continued to file insightful pieces sporadically until the Lancaster House agreement ended the conflict in 1979. In 1957 Kemp had discovered his gift for writing when he published Mine Were of Trouble – a vivid memoir of his time in Spain and the first in an autobiographical trilogy covering his eventful life. He remained utterly unashamed of having chosen the 'wrong' side in Spain and was proud of fighting for Franco. He continued to believe that it was the Basques themselves rather than the Nazi Condor Legion aircraft who had destroyed the ancient Basque capital of Guernica. Intrigued by an article by Kemp in a History magazine frankly titled 'Why I fought for Franco' I sought an interview with him in the 1980s. Given his amazing military record I was expecting a fire breathing volcano but was surprised and impressed by his gentleness of manner. For someone who had spent so long in situations of extreme violence, he exuded a calming sense of peace. Even in old age, Peter Kemp couldn't resist a final campaign and his last battle, when he was already in his 70s, was on the side of the anti-communist Contras in Nicaragua. He died in October 1993 – an unfashionable hero to the last.


The Herald Scotland
4 hours ago
- The Herald Scotland
Bracing ourselves for beers, bravado and a Bethpage Ryder Cup
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'Really p***ed off,' hissed a seething MacIntyre after watching his four-shot overnight lead evaporate. There is, of course, no shame in finishing second to Scheffler. The man is a winning machine. I reckon one of these days he's actually going to unclip his face to reveal a complex tangle of wires, circuit boards and flashing, light-emitting diodes. You can never have a big enough lead in this game, especially when you've got someone like Scheffler lurking. It's the golfing equivalent of walking nervously down a dimly lit alley and hearing a bin lid crashing to the ground behind you. You can easily get spooked. Despite MacIntyre's obvious disappointment, it was another fine weekend for Scottish golf across the board. David Law, the resurgent Aberdonian, claimed his second win of the season on the HotelPlanner Tour as he bounded to the top of the circuit's rankings and moved to the brink of a swift return to the main DP World Tour. California-based Scot, Niall Sheils Donegan, meanwhile, enjoyed a rousing run to the semi-finals of the US Amateur Championship, a performance that was rewarded yesterday with a call-up to the GB&I Walker Cup team for next month's contest with the USA at Cypress Point. Talking of team tussles, MacIntyre's finish in Maryland confirmed his automatic qualification for the European Ryder Cup team. By all accounts, September's showdown at Bethpage Park in rowdy New York state is going to be so boisterous, it'll probably ping the needles on the seismometers at the US Geological Survey. The general volume has been cranked up at certain events on the PGA Tour recently with partisan bellowings, goadings and jeerings from the sidelines being directed at European players. MacIntyre himself got embroiled in some parrying and jousting with a fan at the weekend. 'You give me crap, I'll give you crap back, I'm not scared of that,' the Scot said in the aftermath of his third round. Will those words come home to roost at Bethpage? Quite possibly. In these fevered times, folk are already girding their loins with a sense of foreboding for a repeat of the infamous scenes that marred the notorious Battle of Brookline in 1999. The abuse, for instance, that poor old Colin Montgomerie received back then was so relentless and vile, his 70-year-old dad had to walk in after just a few holes. 'These people shouldn't be allowed to go to golf tournaments,' said Monty's team-mate, Paul Lawrie, at the time. Here in 2025, when major occasions can often be less sporting events and more wild social bonanzas, we can only wonder what lows those fuelled by beer and bravado will plumb. The standard of the repartee, after all, doesn't tend to be critically acclaimed. We all know that this fraught, compelling and highly charged team contest gives golf, both on and off the course, the opportunity to burst from its straitjacket. There's nothing wrong with pumped up passion. But there's a limit. As one, authoritative sportswriter once scribbled: 'Sport is the medium, 'act like a t*** at the office Christmas do' is the message. The modern fan is expected to bring something more to the party than quiet enthusiasm and deep subject knowledge; they must come ready to demonstrate their 'Passion For Sport'.' I'm not wanting to sound like some Victorian puritan here but the behaviour at certain events is not just contrary to golf's established and cherished codes of conduct and etiquette, it's a sign of what's increasingly acceptable, or at least tolerated, in sporting audiences. It wasn't like this in the good old days. Then again? Back in 1870, when the dash and vigour of Young Tom Morris stirred the public's imagination and he became the game's first superstar, The Open attracted a vociferous gathering of spectators to the links of Prestwick. According to the newspaper reports of the time, many of the onlookers were 'clearly completely new to the sport' and 'decidedly unruly in most part.' Sound familiar? The uncouth golfing halfwit is not a new phenomenon it seems. Perhaps there are a few more words to describe them in that Cambridge dictionary?