Latest news with #AdamBrody
Yahoo
4 hours ago
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
‘Nobody Wants This' Season 2 Netflix Premiere Date Revealed, Creator Promises ‘Romantic and Funny' Outing
Netflix know that a lot of somebodies want this. The second season of 'Nobody Wants This' will premiere October 23. The show first dropped on the streamer last September to sparkling reviews, with IndieWire's Proma Khosla praising the chemistry between leads Kristen Bell and Adam Brody. The show, created by Erin Foster, finds Joanne (Bell, also an executive producer) and Noah (Brody) in a would-be conventional love story complicated by Noah's position as a rabbi. Popular podcaster Joanne isn't just not Jewish, she's also unreligious generally — as is her entire non-traditional family. As Noah and Joanne attempt to acclimate to each other's worlds, and Joanne explores converting, things get complicated — to put it lightly. More from IndieWire Niecy Nash-Betts Wants Hollywood to Remember She's a 'Funny Girl' After String of Dramatic Roles The Weeknd Says 'The Idol' Had 'Too Many Cooks in the Kitchen' 'Nobody Wants This' was renewed back in October, but the drop date was not revealed until the June 1 Netflix FYSEE L.A. Emmy event at the Academy Museum in Los Angeles. The evening featured a screening of the pilot followed by a live taping of Foster's 'The World's First Podcast' with Foster, Bell, Brody and fellow cast members Justine Lupe, Timothy Simons, and Jackie Tohn. Stephanie Faracy, Michael Hitchcock, Tovah Feldshuh, Paul Ben-Victor, Emily Arlook, Sherry Cola, and Shiloh Berman will also return for the next batch of episodes, and guests stars will include Miles Fowler, Alex Karpovsky, Arian Moayed, and Bell's 'Gossip Girl' co-star Leighton Meester. Foster based the series on her own life. The actress, writer and podcaster converted to Judaism after falling in love with her Jewish now-husband, Simon Tikhman. Last year, Foster discussed her experience with IndieWire. 'There were about 23 people [in my conversion class] and only three were converting for marriage, which tells you there was 20 very interesting stories going on in that room!' she said. 'And I thought it was just interesting. I hadn't ever seen anybody explore that area, and I thought it'd be cool.' Last month, Foster told IndieWire that Season 2 of 'Nobody Wants This' would be 'romantic and funny.' 'I'm not in the business of depriving people of what they want on a show like this, and making some like, artistic choice to rob you of what you want to see. I really tried to stay on point with Season 1, [it] was all these firsts, first kiss, first date, and this is going to be the next four to six months of the relationship what that looks like,' she said. Best of IndieWire Guillermo del Toro's Favorite Movies: 56 Films the Director Wants You to See 'Song of the South': 14 Things to Know About Disney's Most Controversial Movie The 55 Best LGBTQ Movies and TV Shows Streaming on Netflix Right Now
Yahoo
4 hours ago
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
Nobody Wants This Lands Season 2 Premiere Date at Netflix — Watch the Cast's Video Announcement
And now for the news everybody wants to know: When is Nobody Wants This coming back? Season 2 of the Netflix rom-com will premiere Thursday, Oct. 23, TVLine has learned. The cast announced the news at Netflix's FYSEE event in Los Angeles on Sunday. More from TVLine Wednesday: Netflix Releases First Six Minutes of Season 2 - Watch Them Here Happy Gilmore 2: Adam Sandler's Bad Boy Golfer Gets Back Into the Swing of Things in New Trailer - Watch Frankenstein: Oscar Isaac Brings Jacob Elordi to Life in Electrifying Trailer for Guillermo del Toro's Netflix Movie Along with the date, Netflix has released a video of the cast, including stars Kristen Bell and Adam Brody, playing with a Magic 8-Ball and asking it questions about what's next for the show before revealing the Season 2 premiere date. (Watch the video below.) Bell and Brody star as mismatched lovers Joanne and Noah, who overcome some pretty big differences — she's an agnostic podcast host; he's a rabbi — to find a genuine romantic connection. Justine Lupe (Succession) co-stars as Joanne's sister Morgan, with Timothy Simons (Veep) as Noah's brother Sasha and newly minted series regular Jackie Tohn (GLOW) as Esther. Season 2 will also welcome a host of guest stars, including Brody's real-life wife Leighton Meester (as Joanne's middle school nemesis), along with Alex Karpovsky (Girls) and Arian Moayed (Succession). As previously reported, Girls veterans Jenni Konner and Bruce Eric Kaplan will take over as showrunners in Season 2, with series creator Erin Foster returning as an executive producer. What are you hoping to see in Season 2 of ? Hit the comments to give us your thoughts. Nobody Wants This Season 2: Everything We Know So Far View List Best of TVLine 'Missing' Shows, Found! Get the Latest on Ahsoka, Monarch, P-Valley, Sugar, Anansi Boys and 25+ Others Yellowjackets Mysteries: An Up-to-Date List of the Series' Biggest Questions (and Answers?) The Emmys' Most Memorable Moments: Laughter, Tears, Historical Wins, 'The Big One' and More
Yahoo
4 hours ago
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
Adam Brody, Kristen Bell and Their 'Nobody Wants This' Costars Drop Some Big News About Season 2 — Thanks to a Magic 8 Ball!
On Sunday, June 1, the cast of Nobody Wants This announced that season 2 will premiere on Thursday, Oct. 23, 2025 The news was shared by Kristen Bell, Adam Brody, Justin Lupe, Timothy Simons, and Jackie Tohn, as well as series creator Erin Foster and executive producer Sara Foster live on stage at Netflix's FYSEE LA Emmy Event celebrating season 1 The final episode of the rom-com left on a cliffhanger with Noah (Brody) and Joanne (Bell)'s relationship hanging in the balanceKristen Bell, Adam Brody and the rest of the gang are coming back for a brand new season of Nobody Wants This! On Sunday, June 1, the cast of the hit Netflix series announced that season 2 will premiere on Thursday, Oct. 23, 2025. The news was shared by Bell, Brody, Justin Lupe, Timothy Simons, and Jackie Tohn, as well as series creator Erin Foster and executive producer Sara Foster live on stage at Netflix's FYSEE LA Emmy Event celebrating season 1. In a video confirming the big news, Bell, Brody, Lupe, Simons and Tohn gather together as they ask a magic eight ball questions regarding the "scoop" on the second season. The questions kick off with a fun one as Bell asks, "Will the matzah ballers make the playoffs?" In response, the eight ball says, "Try again, loser." Other questions include whether there will be "another iconic kiss this season," if Morgan will "find love this season" and whether Esther will "forgive Sasha and Morgan for their friendship." But the final question is perhaps the most exciting as Bell asks what's coming on Oct. 23. When the eight ball says, "Ask a rabbi," Brody proudly steps in. "And the rabbi says: season 2! Your favorite show and mine, Nobody Wants This," he says. The first season of Nobody Wants This became an instant hit, with Netflix announcing its decision to renew the series for a second installment in October 2024. The last episode left fans sitting on the edge of their seats. Viewers and crew alike were thrilled to learn that Noah (Brody) and Joanne's (Bell) love story wouldn't leave off on a cliffhanger. 'The incredible cast, crew, producers and executives all made this into the show it is today, and to experience viewers' reactions to this series now that it's out in the world has been more than anything I could have dreamed," said Erin Foster in a statement at the time. "I'm so lucky to be able to continue this story ... Justice for healthy relationships being the most romantic!" Nobody Wants This is inspired by Erin's real-life love story with her husband, Simon Tikham. The series follows Noah, a newly single rabbi, and Joanne, an agnostic dating podcaster, as they attempt to make their relationship work despite major cultural differences. In addition to Brody and Bell, most of the show's primary cast is set to return. Lupe and Simons will reprise their roles as the leads' siblings Morgan and Sasha, respectively. Other returning cast members include Tohn as Esther and Sherry Cola as Ashley. Brody's real-life wife, Leighton Meester, is also a guest star in the second season of Nobody Wants This. She will play Abby, Joanne's middle school nemesis, who's become an "Instagram mommy influencer," per Variety. Bottoms star Miles Fowler will play Lenny, Noah's Matzah Ballers teammate, who is set up with Joanne's sister, Morgan. 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. Nobody Wants This season 1 is streaming on Netflix and season 2 premieres Oct. 23, 2025. Read the original article on People
Yahoo
17 hours ago
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
Making Religion Matter for Secular People
In recent years, an impressive number of particularly charming actors have played rabbis on TV. Adam Brody, Sarah Sherman, Daveed Diggs, and Kathryn Hahn have all donned a kippah, wrapped themselves in a tallis, and shown how fun loving (even sexy) it can feel to carve a path between the rock of tradition and the hard place of modernity. I'm not sure why progressive rabbis are the clerics to whom pop culture tends to assign this role, as opposed to, say, quirky priests or wacky imams. Maybe Judaism is well suited as a religion that revels in questioning and doubt. Maybe rabbis are just funnier. Add to the scroll of TV clergy Rabbi Léa Schmoll, played by Elsa Guedj. In Reformed, a new French series now streaming on Max, Léa has the joyful burden of making millenia-old rituals matter anew. Unlike many other shows that feature rabbis, this one focuses on the actual work of rabbi-ing—and it isn't easy. The drama (and sitcom-style comedy) of Reformed comes out of her struggle against both the nihilism of our fallen world, which provides no answers to the bigger questions of life, and a rigid form of Orthodoxy that provides too many easy answers. In the middle stands utterly human Léa, who has the sweetly befuddled air, wild mane, and wide eyes of a young Carol Kane. Her shirts are often misbuttoned and half-tucked. She's perpetually late. And she is brand-new to the job, having just taken her first rabbi gig when the show opens in her hometown of Strasbourg, in eastern France. She is also a woman rabbi in a country where they are rare—the show makes a running gag of what title to use for her, because both the French word for a female rabbi, rabbine, and a stuffier alternative, Madame le rabbin, sound so unfamiliar that they regularly provoke giggles. After rabbinical school, she moves back into the book-lined apartment of her misanthropic father, a weathered Serge Gainsbourg look-alike (Éric Elmosnino, who actually played Gainsbourg in a biopic). He's a psychotherapist and a staunch atheist for whom a rabbi daughter is a cosmic joke at his expense. 'There was Galileo, Freud, Auschwitz,' he declares over dinner when she discusses her new job. 'I thought the problem was solved. God doesn't exist. The Creation is meaningless. We're alone. We live. We suffer.' (In French—I promise—this sounds like a very normal dinner conversation.) Already in the first episode, in her very first interaction with a congregant, Léa has to defend one of the most primitive forms of religious practice: circumcision. A new mother asks for Léa's help in convincing her non-Jewish partner to get over his resistance to their son having a bris. She senses—after many initial bumbling missteps—that what pains the father is that his son's body will be different from his own, no longer an extension of himself. Léa reaches for a biblical story, the binding of Isaac. As they stand outside the synagogue, where the father has been nervously pacing, drinking espressos, and smoking cigarettes (again, France), she offers her explanation for God's seemingly sadistic command that Abraham sacrifice his son. This was done, she argues, not to test Abraham's faith—God, being omniscient, would presumably know Abraham's faithfulness already—but ultimately to stop Abraham's hand before he brought his knife down, proving the limits of a parent's power over their child's life. [Shira Telushkin: The new American judaism] As Léa tells it, this brutal story becomes a comforting parable about learning to stop projecting yourself onto your children, about letting them go. 'The binding of Isaac is actually the moment when he is unbound from his father,' Léa says. 'God says to the Hebrews, 'Your children are not your children. They come from you. But they are not you.'' A bar mitzvah, a wedding, a Passover seder, and two funerals will follow. And though the same dynamic repeats, Léa's confidence grows as she learns how to give sense to the rituals. 'In the end, our job is about accomplishing certain gestures and trying to understand their meaning,' she says, providing a pretty good synopsis of the show. Interpretation is her creative act, and part of what makes Reformed enthralling is that she gets really good at it. Reformed is roughly based on the book Living With Our Dead, by Delphine Horvilleur, which was published in an English translation last year. Horvilleur is a liberal rabbi (she'll even accept 'secular rabbi') who has become something of a celebrity in France. The book would not seem to be an obvious fit for adaptation into a comedy series—in it, she recounts 11 instances of mourning, and how she has worked to integrate death into her life. She also argues eloquently for her more liberal form of the religion. The birth of rabbinic Judaism after the destruction of the Second Temple in Jerusalem, in 70 C.E., was the moment, she writes, when exegesis began to trump blind obedience. The rabbis were exiled, and had no temple where they could make sacrifices to God. They invented a religion that was a form of 'literal a-theism,' she writes, 'a world where God doesn't intervene and where human decisions prevail when there is controversy.' In the show, Léa has an antagonist on this point, a soulful local Orthodox rabbi named Arié (Lionel Dray) who was once her teacher. The friction in their relationship is more than just theological—their 'Will they? Won't they?' sexual tension adds another sitcom element to the show (though given his black fedora and many children at home, I'm guessing they won't). They tussle in a friendly, and sometimes not-so-friendly, way about whether an 'authentic' form of Judaism exists. In one climactic scene, while on an interfaith panel discussion, their argument overwhelms the event. Arié refers to Léa's approach to Judaism as 'à la carte': She picks and chooses what suits her interests. 'Why not practice meditation or oriental-spirituality seminars, if the goal is to confirm one's own beliefs?' he asks her. Léa shoots back by asking him if he practices polygamy. Religion evolves, she says, and besides, 'many people aspire to connect with the wisdom of biblical texts, and they have a right to it, even if you claim exclusive ownership of them.' That's fine, Arié responds, but 'don't call it Judaism. Because that's not Judaism. It's something else.' [Franklin Foer: The golden age of American Jews is ending] As someone who is on Léa's side of this debate—I agree with Horvilleur that 'Judaism doesn't require its adherents to pass a final exam'—I appreciated her fierce defense of this more open-ended version of the religion, as well as her look of self-doubt as she was arguing it. Judaism that tries to be alive to a changing world has an inferiority complex. It's not even a fair fight when one side takes the accommodation of reality as its mandate and the other cites the direct mandate of God. Léa's work seems more rewarding, though, because the comfort she provides feels more like grace. When she teaches a man sitting alone with his mother's coffin about the Jewish tradition of tearing a piece of your clothes when in mourning, explaining that it symbolizes 'that the survivor will never be entirely whole again,' the gesture breaks the stark nothingness on the son's face. I'm moved by watching a show that finds drama in all of this, because, at the moment, I'm helping my 12-year-old daughter prepare for her bat mitzvah. She has to write a speech responding to the section of Torah she will be reading, one that includes the biblical proscription to 'not boil a kid in its mother's milk.' From this, early rabbis extrapolated the strict dietary laws that prohibit mixing milk and meat. My daughter had a different reading, though. In a commentary on the text, she found that in the ancient Near East, meat cooked in soured milk was a delicacy. Maybe God didn't intend for this to be a restriction on food at all, she wondered. Maybe he was just asking people to not show off by eating fancy dishes. Maybe he was telling them to live simply. I liked that in the old words she found her own significance, one an Orthodox rabbi like Arié would find ridiculous but that Léa would smile at. Reformed is a lot more entertaining than this doctrinal back-and-forth would suggest. The show is ultimately about people feeling confused as they face life at the moments that most require an injection of meaning. Can religion still have purpose for those of us who don't believe? The show answers with a qualified yes—as long as it is religion that is never too sure of itself. 'There are lots of rabbis full of certainties,' Arié tells Léa in one consoling moment. 'Perhaps all those who are looking for something else need you.' Article originally published at The Atlantic
Atlantic
19 hours ago
- Entertainment
- Atlantic
Between Tradition and Modernity Stands One Bumbling Rabbi
In recent years, an impressive number of particularly charming actors have played rabbis on TV. Adam Brody, Sarah Sherman, Daveed Diggs, and Kathryn Hahn have all donned a kippah, wrapped themselves in a tallis, and shown how fun loving (even sexy) it can feel to carve a path between the rock of tradition and the hard place of modernity. I'm not sure why progressive rabbis are the clerics to whom pop culture tends to assign this role, as opposed to, say, quirky priests or wacky imams. Maybe Judaism is well suited as a religion that revels in questioning and doubt. Maybe rabbis are just funnier. Add to the scroll of TV clergy Rabbi Léa Schmoll, played by Elsa Guedj. In Reformed, a new French series now streaming on Max, Léa has the joyful burden of making millenia-old rituals matter anew. Unlike many other shows that feature rabbis, this one focuses on the actual work of rabbi-ing—and it isn't easy. The drama (and sitcom-style comedy) of Reformed comes out of her struggle against both the nihilism of our fallen world, which provides no answers to the bigger questions of life, and a rigid form of Orthodoxy that provides too many easy answers. In the middle stands utterly human Léa, who has the sweetly befuddled air, wild mane, and wide eyes of a young Carol Kane. Her shirts are often misbuttoned and half-tucked. She's perpetually late. And she is brand-new to the job, having just taken her first rabbi gig when the show opens in her hometown of Strasbourg, in eastern France. She is also a woman rabbi in a country where they are rare—the show makes a running gag of what title to use for her, because both the French word for a female rabbi, rabbine, and a stuffier alternative, Madame le rabbin, sound so unfamiliar that they regularly provoke giggles. After rabbinical school, she moves back into the book-lined apartment of her misanthropic father, a weathered Serge Gainsbourg look-alike (Éric Elmosnino, who actually played Gainsbourg in a biopic). He's a psychotherapist and a staunch atheist for whom a rabbi daughter is a cosmic joke at his expense. 'There was Galileo, Freud, Auschwitz,' he declares over dinner when she discusses her new job. 'I thought the problem was solved. God doesn't exist. The Creation is meaningless. We're alone. We live. We suffer.' (In French—I promise—this sounds like a very normal dinner conversation.) Already in the first episode, in her very first interaction with a congregant, Léa has to defend one of the most primitive forms of religious practice: circumcision. A new mother asks for Léa's help in convincing her non-Jewish partner to get over his resistance to their son having a bris. She senses—after many initial bumbling missteps—that what pains the father is that his son's body will be different from his own, no longer an extension of himself. Léa reaches for a biblical story, the binding of Isaac. As they stand outside the synagogue, where the father has been nervously pacing, drinking espressos, and smoking cigarettes (again, France), she offers her explanation for God's seemingly sadistic command that Abraham sacrifice his son. This was done, she argues, not to test Abraham's faith—God, being omniscient, would presumably know Abraham's faithfulness already—but ultimately to stop Abraham's hand before he brought his knife down, proving the limits of a parent's power over their child's life. Shira Telushkin: The new American judaism As Léa tells it, this brutal story becomes a comforting parable about learning to stop projecting yourself onto your children, about letting them go. 'The binding of Isaac is actually the moment when he is unbound from his father,' Léa says. 'God says to the Hebrews, 'Your children are not your children. They come from you. But they are not you.'' A bar mitzvah, a wedding, a Passover seder, and two funerals will follow. And though the same dynamic repeats, Léa's confidence grows as she learns how to give sense to the rituals. 'In the end, our job is about accomplishing certain gestures and trying to understand their meaning,' she says, providing a pretty good synopsis of the show. Interpretation is her creative act, and part of what makes Reformed enthralling is that she gets really good at it. Reformed is roughly based on the book Living With Our Dead, by Delphine Horvilleur, which was published in an English translation last year. Horvilleur is a liberal rabbi (she'll even accept 'secular rabbi') who has become something of a celebrity in France. The book would not seem to be an obvious fit for adaptation into a comedy series—in it, she recounts 11 instances of mourning, and how she has worked to integrate death into her life. She also argues eloquently for her more liberal form of the religion. The birth of rabbinic Judaism after the destruction of the Second Temple in Jerusalem, in 70 C.E., was the moment, she writes, when exegesis began to trump blind obedience. The rabbis were exiled, and had no temple where they could make sacrifices to God. They invented a religion that was a form of 'literal a-theism,' she writes, 'a world where God doesn't intervene and where human decisions prevail when there is controversy.' In the show, Léa has an antagonist on this point, a soulful local Orthodox rabbi named Arié (Lionel Dray) who was once her teacher. The friction in their relationship is more than just theological—their 'Will they? Won't they?' sexual tension adds another sitcom element to the show (though given his black fedora and many children at home, I'm guessing they won't). They tussle in a friendly, and sometimes not-so-friendly, way about whether an 'authentic' form of Judaism exists. In one climactic scene, while on an interfaith panel discussion, their argument overwhelms the event. Arié refers to Léa's approach to Judaism as 'à la carte': She picks and chooses what suits her interests. 'Why not practice meditation or oriental-spirituality seminars, if the goal is to confirm one's own beliefs?' he asks her. Léa shoots back by asking him if he practices polygamy. Religion evolves, she says, and besides, 'many people aspire to connect with the wisdom of biblical texts, and they have a right to it, even if you claim exclusive ownership of them.' That's fine, Arié responds, but 'don't call it Judaism. Because that's not Judaism. It's something else.' Franklin Foer: The golden age of American Jews is ending As someone who is on Léa's side of this debate—I agree with Horvilleur that 'Judaism doesn't require its adherents to pass a final exam'—I appreciated her fierce defense of this more open-ended version of the religion, as well as her look of self-doubt as she was arguing it. Judaism that tries to be alive to a changing world has an inferiority complex. It's not even a fair fight when one side takes the accommodation of reality as its mandate and the other cites the direct mandate of God. Léa's work seems more rewarding, though, because the comfort she provides feels more like grace. When she teaches a man sitting alone with his mother's coffin about the Jewish tradition of tearing a piece of your clothes when in mourning, explaining that it symbolizes 'that the survivor will never be entirely whole again,' the gesture breaks the stark nothingness on the son's face. I'm moved by watching a show that finds drama in all of this, because, at the moment, I'm helping my 12-year-old daughter prepare for her bat mitzvah. She has to write a speech responding to the section of Torah she will be reading, one that includes the biblical proscription to 'not boil a kid in its mother's milk.' From this, early rabbis extrapolated the strict dietary laws that prohibit mixing milk and meat. My daughter had a different reading, though. In a commentary on the text, she found that in the ancient Near East, meat cooked in soured milk was a delicacy. Maybe God didn't intend for this to be a restriction on food at all, she wondered. Maybe he was just asking people to not show off by eating fancy dishes. Maybe he was telling them to live simply. I liked that in the old words she found her own significance, one an Orthodox rabbi like Arié would find ridiculous but that Léa would smile at. Reformed is a lot more entertaining than this doctrinal back-and-forth would suggest. The show is ultimately about people feeling confused as they face life at the moments that most require an injection of meaning. Can religion still have purpose for those of us who don't believe? The show answers with a qualified yes—as long as it is religion that is never too sure of itself. 'There are lots of rabbis full of certainties,' Arié tells Léa in one consoling moment. 'Perhaps all those who are looking for something else need you.'
