In ‘On Swift Horses,' a handsome trio stumbles into romance and messier feelings
What looks at first glance to be your standard postwar love triangle — made up of oil-and-water brothers and a cagey housewife — reveals itself to be more like a multi-faceted crystal of lust and longing in the handsomely realized romantic melodrama 'On Swift Horses.'
Unpacking the apprehensions and opportunities of boom-time America as laid out in Shannon Pufahl's 2019 novel, director Daniel Minahan gamely plants one foot in Douglas Sirk territory while glancing in the direction of Todd Haynes. But just when the central characters' fascinating messiness achieves peak interest, you realize this movie's earnest commercial shimmer is never going to segue into a denser, darker poetry. It's a good-looking movie about sublimated lives and the need to break free, one that feels torn between presenting the surface allure of those desires in a repressive time and exploring anything deeper.
For an hour, though, it has the pop and pull of a midcentury soap opera that benefits from R-rated frankness. Stifled Muriel (Daisy Edgar-Jones) agrees to marry her beau, Lee (Will Poulter), back from a stint in the Korean War, and uproot their Kansas lives to make a go of it in sunny, shiny, expanding Southern California. Lee's cynical cardsharp of a brother, Julius (Jacob Elordi), was meant to be part of that dream move, but the call of gambling takes Julius to Las Vegas instead.
What for Lee is garden-variety disappointment about not having family around is, in Muriel, a more intangible sexual absence she can't articulate beyond an interest in the appeal of risk. A nicely understated anxiety in Edgar-Jones' portrayal conveys her new life in suburban San Diego. Already good at hiding cigarettes, Muriel starts lying about her communication with Julius, while keeping from Lee her winnings from racetrack bets (acting on tips overheard at her diner job).
Julius, meanwhile, becomes a card-cheat spotter for a casino as an act of atonement for his thieving ways — it's easy to buy Elordi's take on '50s rogue sensitivity. But high in the sweltering catwalks above the gambling tables, he meets sexy, forthright Tijuana transplant Henry (Diego Calva) and suddenly the other vein of concealment in Julius's cautious, cynical life — being gay — is at risk of breaking wide open into a consuming passion. (Metaphor alert: Thrill-seeking Henry drags Julius out to the desert to watch bomb tests.) Dormant attractions in Muriel are separately tested, too, by openly queer and political Latina neighbor Sandra (Sasha Calle), who upon first meeting her, holds out a palm so Muriel, trying her first olive, can spit out the pit. Someone's list of secrets is about to get longer.
Bryce Kass' incident-packed screenplay keeps Minahan busy, but the twinned narratives and their snap-into-place dangers ultimately overwhelm the unease that make the first half of 'On Swift Horses' so palpably jangly inside all the period production design and Luc Montpellier's crisp cinematography. Minahan, a TV veteran, eventually falls into the trap of episodic management, to the point where characters lose their individuality within the story's growing dependence on constructs, gestures and making points.
The acting is a saving grace, especially Edgar-Jones' commitment to nuance and Poulter's refreshingly shaded Lee, whose depth of awareness at a critical moment is a believable surprise, beautifully handled by the actor. Only Elordi, variously treated like beefcake and brooder, seems lost trying to square Julius' early vulnerability with the final act's hopeful romance. His grand denouement is meant to be a catharsis for a deliberately corrective slice of emotional history. But it instead feels like an easy escape hatch when what 'On Swift Horses' promised was a richer psychological landscape about what roils inside hearts accustomed to hiding.
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13 hours ago
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Lexington men find community at White Castle, spinning yarns and downing sliders
It's 9:30 on a Saturday morning at the White Castle on Reynolds Road, and the party is in full swing. Ten men, several wearing caps noting their military service, are gathered around tables that have been pushed together, and the coffee and conversation are flowing. This group of Lexington White Castle regulars, most of whom are in their 80s and 90s, has become like a family, and some of them have made these chats over breakfast part of their daily morning routine for 30 years or more. 'They just cuss and discuss anything,' Randall Dowell joked. 'Mostly yarn spinning.' 'It's a camaraderie thing,' said Ed Parker. 'I come to White Castle for cheap food and fellowship. The food is great and the fellowship is great,' said Jim Atkins. 'Sometimes I come for breakfast and lunch.' Wayne Tullis says he's 'the baby' of the group, at 82 years old. On May 31, they celebrated their most senior member, John Hughes, who turned 99 May 9. There was cake for everyone, and restaurant employees feted Hughes with a pair of White Castle socks, a White Castle gift card and a cookie jar shaped like a slider in the signature blue and white box. 'Ain't everybody got one of them,' an admirer called from the other end of the table. There were blue and gold tablecloths, streamers hung from the ceiling, and a gold crown was placed atop Hughes' cap. 'You're king of the castle today,' said Gail Gurney, a White Castle district manager who has known the men for years. Hughes said he doesn't know how his 100th birthday could top his 99th. 'I'm shocked,' he said of the celebration. Hughes, a World War II veteran, thumbed through old photos of past gatherings with his buddies at White Castle, including one of another birthday party there years ago. 'I was an old man then,' he said. Bob Niles is a 95-year-old veteran who served during World War II and the Korean War. He said he's been eating sliders at White Castle since he was a youngster growing up in Louisville. 'We were really upset in high school when it went from a nickel to seven cents,' he said. Niles said he thinks the sliders still taste the same as they did back then, though. Dowell said he's been coming to the White Castle on Reynolds Road for 'forever... off and on probably 40 years.' He said he used to live in a complex behind the restaurant, but he now drives over from his home in Versailles to visit with his friends. White Castle, he said, is 'welcoming to service people. It has a good feel about it. We know most of these (employees) by name.' 'I don't think there's any subject that's sacred here,' said Dowell. 'We discuss anything and everything: the media, horse racing, farming.' Ray Wedding gives 'the tomato report.' 'Every year I put out 28, 30 plants or more just to have something to do,' said Wedding, showing off a cell phone photo of the tomato plants lining his backyard fence. When his Big Boys and Better Boys are ripe, he brings them in to share with his breakfast buddies. 'They're a friendly bunch and would do anything for you, I think, if they could,' said Wedding, 88. The men's relationships with the employees are as close as their bonds with each other. 'They're special to us,' said Gurney, the district manager. The regulars always order the same thing, and the staff knows what each wants before he says a word. 'As soon as we see their cars pull in the lot, we start making their food,' she said. 'We are all just like family.' Gurney started working at White Castle as a 16-year-old and has been with the company for 37 years now, working her way up to district manager. Dowell told her Saturday he thinks he can remember her first day on the job. 'She is the cornerstone behind all of this,' Dowell said. 'They've watched me go from this store to the other store' across town, she said. When her son had a bone marrow transplant, she said the morning regulars took up a collection to help out, since Gurney had to be off work for six months. 'They wanted to make sure that I was OK to take off work,' Gurney said. 'My customers took care of me.' And she takes care of them too. Gurney said staff members have contact numbers for some of the guys in the back, and if someone doesn't show up for breakfast for a few days, they'll call to check on them. And they make sure the egg on Hughes' bologna and egg sandwich comes with an unbroken yolk, something not just anyone can get at White Castle. Hughes doesn't come in to White Castle every day anymore, Gurney said, so 'it's a special day when he walks in the store.' Hughes still drives, but not as far as he used to. He said Saturday that he usually spends his mornings at the McDonald's on Winchester Road, because it's closer to his home. But the group at White Castle knows he reserves the last Saturday of every month for them. 'We solve all problems,' Hughes said. The makeup of the White Castle regulars group has changed over the years, as some members have died or moved away. Before the COVID-19 pandemic, there were 12 or 15 guys getting together every morning, Tullis said. 'The pandemic got some of them,' Atkins said. But the regulars didn't let even a pandemic keep them from getting together. Tullis said they sat outside during those days, and the staff brought food out to them. 'We were in our cars and trucks,' Tullis said. 'We yelled at one another,' Parker added. How did they all come together in the first place decades ago? 'It was just a couple people, and they had a friend' who they invited, Tullis said. 'It just kept collecting.' Tullis invited Dick LeMaster, 90. 'I'm here every day, six days a week,' LeMaster said. He always gets the same thing: a sausage, egg and cheese sandwich and a cup of coffee. LeMaster, in turn, invited Mike Blackard. 'I show up about once a week. It's a fun group,' Blackard said. He said he enjoys the wealth of knowledge the men have accumulated over their lives. 'They've done it all,' he said. LeMaster said his granddaughter, a University of Kentucky student, once brought some of her classmates out to observe the group. And what did they learn? LeMaster, who served in the Army and was stationed in Japan during the Korean War, said her assessment was that the guys liked to talk about the past, not the future. His assessment: 'We're social people. We just like to chat and visit., tell the same stories over and over.'
Yahoo
14 hours ago
- Yahoo
Wife of Last Sibling of World's First Surviving Male Quadruplets Remembers Him as ‘Wonderful Family Man' (Exclusive)
Carl Vincent Perricone Sr., the last surviving brother of a history-making set of quadruplets, died on June 2 Anne, his wife of 58 years, remembered the father of six as 'a wonderful family man' Carl would still ride on his lawnmower at the age of 95 and enjoy quality time with his wife on their porchThe wife of Carl Vincent Perricone Sr., the last surviving sibling of a history-making set of quadruplets who recently died, is cherishing her memories with him. 'He was a wonderful family man,' Anne Perricone, 77, exclusively tells PEOPLE of Carl, who died on June 2 at the age of 95. Anne said their journey began when he was a father of five and a widower at 27 after his first wife tragically died following rheumatic fever. They met when she lived across the street and cared for his children. 'I babysat the children and fell in love with the children and him,' Anne says. They would go on to marry, have a daughter, and remain committed to each other for 58 years. They would have celebrated their 59th anniversary in August, most likely partaking in a familiar pastime. 'Oh gosh. He always brought me out there, glass of wine to have an afternoon on the porch,' she says. Never miss a story — sign up for to stay up-to-date on the best of what PEOPLE has to offer, from celebrity news to compelling human interest stories. Five years ago, Anne says she and Carl moved to their daughter's home, and the longtime couple 'enjoyed sitting out here watching the birds. He loved watching the birds. He has a bird feeder out there watching the birds and the animals.' His valor as a father and husband also extended to his service to his country alongside his brothers Anthony, Bernard, and Donald Perricone, affectionately known as the Alphabet Quads. They were born in Beaumont, Texas, on Halloween in 1929 to Maria Concetta "Bessie" Mazzu and Philip 'Filippo' Perricone. They were the first surviving male quadruplets in the world, according to the Museum of the Gulf Coast. Their births made headlines, and so did their decision to be drafted into the Army in 1950 during the Korean War. The mother of the quads contacted then-Sen. Lyndon B. Johnson with the insistence, ' 'You can't just take one of my boys. They've always been together,' ' Anna says. The brothers ultimately served in the same unit. 'He was proud of his service,' she says, continuing that he also served in the Air Force. Upon returning home in 1953, the brothers worked together at Pure Oil Refinery before Anthony decided to become a barber. Carl and his two brothers remained at the company until retirement, according to the museum. The quadruplets eventually bought a parcel of land in their hometown and dubbed the private road Quad Lane, where their descendants still live. In 2010, Carl represented himself, his brothers and his country at a ceremony in South Korea commemorating the 60th anniversary of the end of the Korean War, per the museum. Despite his strong bond with his brothers, Carl did not always want to be associated with being part of the famed quad. 'They were so publicly displayed for so long. He got tired of all that. He did grant an interview probably about seven years ago after Donald died. Yeah, it's been longer than that, my daughter said. But anyway, we kind of just backed away from it,' she recalls, but he ultimately granted an interview with The Beaumont Enterprise in 2013. She continues, 'We all sat down with the people in the living room and he just told them about missing his brothers.' The news of his death led to an outpouring of condolences, but Anne says that he was 'very healthy,' and that 'no one could believe' he was 95. 'He would walk out here and go ride his lawnmower and cut grass and he was very healthy. But in the last few months, I guess I'd say he took a couple stumbles up here. He didn't break anything or he hit his head on the porch one time, but he was pretty stable with his feet,' she says. is now available in the Apple App Store! Download it now for the most binge-worthy celeb content, exclusive video clips, astrology updates and more! Carl's obituary said that he "enjoyed country life in his final years, watching wildlife and smoking his pipe, and Anne added that their last days together were spent "together up here in the peace.' In addition to Anne, Carl is also survived by his six children and multiple grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Read the original article on People
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3 days ago
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Sean Penn Criticizes Plan to Remove Harvey Milk's Name From Navy Ship
The U.S. Navy is reportedly preparing to rename the USNS Harvey Milk, a Navy support ship christened in honor of the assassinated gay rights icon, an order that comes directly from Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth. Now Sean Penn and screenwriter Dustin Lance Black, who both won Oscars for the 2008 biopic Milk, are hitting back at the plan. 'This is yet another move to distract and to fuel the culture wars that create division,' Black told The Hollywood Reporter. 'It's meant to get us to react in ways that are self-centered so that we are further distanced from our brothers and sisters in equally important civil rights fights in this country. It's divide and conquer.' He continued, 'These guys are idiots. Pete Hegseth does not seem like a smart man, a wise man, a knowledgeable man. He seems small and petty. I would love to introduce him to some LGBTQ folks who are warriors who have had to be warriors our entire life just to live our lives openly as who we are.' Penn responded more tersely: 'I've never before seen a Secretary of Defense so aggressively demote himself to the rank of Chief PETTY Officer.' The Defense Department's announcement coincided with the beginning of Pride month, which is not a coincidence. The Defense Department source who spoke with said the decision to rename the ship during Pride month was an intentional choice. According to a memo obtained by CBS News, the choice to rename the ship was part of an effort to reestablish 'the warrior culture' within the military — a particular fixation of Hegseth. Milk was not only one of the most prominent figures in the gay rights movement in the '70s and '80s, he was also a Korean War veteran. He was ousted from the Navy in 1955 after being accused of engaging in then-banned homosexual activities. He was elected to the San Francisco Board of Supervisors in 1977 — the first gay man elected to the position — after years working as an activist and leader of the Castro neighborhood's growing gay and lesbian community. As city supervisor, Milk worked closely with former Democratic California Sen. Dianne Feinstein, then also a city supervisor. Milk was assassinated along with former San Francisco Mayor George Moscone in 1978 by disgruntled former supervisor Dan White. Milk begins with Milk's arrival in San Francisco and follows his political ascendancy, leading up to his assassination. The film was written by Black and directed by Gus Van Sant, and eventually earned eight Oscar nominations. Penn won Best Actor for his portrayal of the leader and activist while Black won Best Original Screenplay. Rolling Stone's Peter Travers called the movie 'a total triumph, brimming with humor, heart, sexual heat, political provocation and a crying need to stir things up, just like Harvey did. If there's a better movie around this year, with more bristling purpose, I sure as hell haven't seen it.' He added, 'That Harvey's questing spirit not only lives but soars in this movie is a gift from Sean Penn, who plays him for real instead of for show.' Speaking to The Hollywood Reporter, Black suggested taking inspiration from Milk himself. 'Harvey Milk is an icon, a civil rights icon, and for good reason,' Black said. 'That's not going to change. Renaming a ship isn't going to change that. If people are pissed off, good, be pissed off — but take the appropriate action. Do what Harvey Milk had said we need to do, and it's about bringing back together the coalition of the 'us'-es that helps move the pendulum of progress forward. Stop the infighting and lock arms again. That's what Harvey would say.' More from Rolling Stone Late-Night Hosts Take Aim at Trump's Feud With Musk: 'Blew Up Faster Than a SpaceX Rocket' Yes, the Trump Admin Is Still Very Much Attacking Abortion Rights GOP Bill Would Legalize DOGE and Let Trump Dismantle Everything Best of Rolling Stone The Useful Idiots New Guide to the Most Stoned Moments of the 2020 Presidential Campaign Anatomy of a Fake News Scandal The Radical Crusade of Mike Pence
