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The Advertiser
30-07-2025
- The Advertiser
Jailed for a murder he didn't commit: Aussie author pens innocent man's story
Calvin Duncan served more than 28 years in jail for a murder he did not commit. Now, Australian author Sophie Cull has teamed with him to co-author The Jailhouse Lawyer, a memoir recounting his life and exoneration. "It's shocking-and frankly hard to fathom-that anyone could spend 28 years in prison for a crime they didn't commit," Ms Cull said. "There are people who've spent 40 or 50 years in prison after being convicted in trials that lasted less than a day, often with lawyers who never visited them beforehand." Calvin was 19 when he was arrested for a murder-robbery in 1982 and almost faced the death penalty himself. With no one coming to his rescue, Mr Duncan taught himself law to fight his own incarceration, while helping hundreds of other inmates. "Cases like Calvin's are a powerful reminder of why, even in Australia, we should be cautious about placing blind trust in an institution as fallible as the criminal justice system," Ms Cull said. Since his release, Mr Duncan has completed his law degree and now continues his advocacy to get people better access to the court system. "Calvin inspires the rest of us every day with his advocacy on behalf of men and women in prison," Ms Cull said. One man who did support Mr Duncan 40 years ago was Mack Ferrick, the then-director of an Oregon job corps campus where Mr Duncan was living. He witnessed the arrest and even flew to New Orleans to support Mr Duncan during the trial. Mr Ferrick recently reconnected with Mr Duncan via Facebook: "He told us he always believed Calvin was innocent and was appalled by how the system treated him. We were thrilled to be able to send him a signed copy of the book, it was a powerful full-circle moment," Ms Cull said. Growing up in Armidale, NSW, with her mum as a solicitor and her Dad a member of an international human rights organisation, Ms Cull said conversations about justice "were part of everyday life". "When I was about 15, I read Dead Man Walking by Sister Helen Prejean, and it had a profound impact on me. As Helen would say, it lit a fire and made me want to work against the death penalty." Ms Cull studied criminology and focused on Indigenous Justice, but heard a talk from Sunny Jacobs, who had spent time on death row in Florida. Through that talk, she learned of student internships in the US and was accepted to a placement in New Orleans, Louisiana, in 2008. It was there, working as an advocate in Capital Cases, that she met Mr Duncan, who was released in 2011. "He was already well-known in the criminal defence community for his legal work on behalf of others while incarcerated," she said. "At Angola, he had served as a jailhouse lawyer, known officially as an 'inmate counsel substitute'. Within a week of his release, he was working in our office as a paralegal, just across the hall from me." The pair struck up conversations over strolls to get coffee and soon over lengthy roadtrips to the northwest of Louisiana for case work. "It was about six hours each way, and during those long drives, I'd ask Calvin about his life, and he would share stories from his time inside." About five years later, the duo started to record interviews, and those became the basis for writing the book. "Calvin will be the first to tell you that nearly all of his friends from that generation at Angola Prison who've come home are still doing the same work on the outside that they did on the inside," Ms Cull said. "His friends who organised politically behind bars are now working on voter education and legislative reform." People who ran the prison's award-winning newspaper, The Angolite, are now writing books and articles about the criminal justice system. "They're still playing their roles, trying to make the world better for those who come after them." Ms Cull said there was a depth of human potential locked behind prison walls that society was quick to dismiss. "That's a profound loss," she said. As a young advocate fresh-faced out of Uni, Ms Cull was ready to take on the justice system, but said her work, particularly with Mr Duncan, made her realise she was better placed amplifying the voices of people with lived experience who know what needs to change. "What has meant the most to me is learning to listen and to join the work others are already doing. That shift in perspective has helped me be a better advocate," she said. Ms Cull said it was at times challenging to capture the anguish and depth of emotion of Mr Duncan's journey through the court and prison systems in the book, as it was "hard for him to go back there". "One of the greatest challenges was ensuring I found a way to portray Calvin's emotional life with the honesty and depth it deserved ... [other] accounts brushed past the mental and emotional anguish because those things are hard to dwell on. "Calvin says that when he reads the book, he sees himself as he is. Hearing that means more to me than anything." Initial reactions to the launch have been overwhelming, as well. Ms Cull and Mr Duncan were blown away when around three times more people showed up to the launch than they expected. Mr Duncan has even given a clear indication of his preference should his story be immortalised in film. "When a film producer asked Calvin who he'd want to portray him, he didn't hesitate: Denzel Washington," Ms Cull said. "Calvin never forgets to bring a sense of fun to whatever he's doing, even in the midst of serious work." Ms Cull is looking forward to a visit home in November to promote the book. "I always love coming back to Armidale when I visit Australia. It's a special place, and the longer I've been away, the more I appreciate what it meant to grow up here, and what it means to return," she said. "I'm really looking forward to sharing the book closer to home. Even though Calvin's story unfolded a world away, I think it will resonate with anyone who has witnessed injustice in their community and felt moved to act." Australian book sellers can order copies of The Jailhouse Lawyer, but Ms Cull warned that international shipping can be pricey. The book is otherwise available through US retailers or as an e-book and audiobook from Amazon. Calvin Duncan served more than 28 years in jail for a murder he did not commit. Now, Australian author Sophie Cull has teamed with him to co-author The Jailhouse Lawyer, a memoir recounting his life and exoneration. "It's shocking-and frankly hard to fathom-that anyone could spend 28 years in prison for a crime they didn't commit," Ms Cull said. "There are people who've spent 40 or 50 years in prison after being convicted in trials that lasted less than a day, often with lawyers who never visited them beforehand." Calvin was 19 when he was arrested for a murder-robbery in 1982 and almost faced the death penalty himself. With no one coming to his rescue, Mr Duncan taught himself law to fight his own incarceration, while helping hundreds of other inmates. "Cases like Calvin's are a powerful reminder of why, even in Australia, we should be cautious about placing blind trust in an institution as fallible as the criminal justice system," Ms Cull said. Since his release, Mr Duncan has completed his law degree and now continues his advocacy to get people better access to the court system. "Calvin inspires the rest of us every day with his advocacy on behalf of men and women in prison," Ms Cull said. One man who did support Mr Duncan 40 years ago was Mack Ferrick, the then-director of an Oregon job corps campus where Mr Duncan was living. He witnessed the arrest and even flew to New Orleans to support Mr Duncan during the trial. Mr Ferrick recently reconnected with Mr Duncan via Facebook: "He told us he always believed Calvin was innocent and was appalled by how the system treated him. We were thrilled to be able to send him a signed copy of the book, it was a powerful full-circle moment," Ms Cull said. Growing up in Armidale, NSW, with her mum as a solicitor and her Dad a member of an international human rights organisation, Ms Cull said conversations about justice "were part of everyday life". "When I was about 15, I read Dead Man Walking by Sister Helen Prejean, and it had a profound impact on me. As Helen would say, it lit a fire and made me want to work against the death penalty." Ms Cull studied criminology and focused on Indigenous Justice, but heard a talk from Sunny Jacobs, who had spent time on death row in Florida. Through that talk, she learned of student internships in the US and was accepted to a placement in New Orleans, Louisiana, in 2008. It was there, working as an advocate in Capital Cases, that she met Mr Duncan, who was released in 2011. "He was already well-known in the criminal defence community for his legal work on behalf of others while incarcerated," she said. "At Angola, he had served as a jailhouse lawyer, known officially as an 'inmate counsel substitute'. Within a week of his release, he was working in our office as a paralegal, just across the hall from me." The pair struck up conversations over strolls to get coffee and soon over lengthy roadtrips to the northwest of Louisiana for case work. "It was about six hours each way, and during those long drives, I'd ask Calvin about his life, and he would share stories from his time inside." About five years later, the duo started to record interviews, and those became the basis for writing the book. "Calvin will be the first to tell you that nearly all of his friends from that generation at Angola Prison who've come home are still doing the same work on the outside that they did on the inside," Ms Cull said. "His friends who organised politically behind bars are now working on voter education and legislative reform." People who ran the prison's award-winning newspaper, The Angolite, are now writing books and articles about the criminal justice system. "They're still playing their roles, trying to make the world better for those who come after them." Ms Cull said there was a depth of human potential locked behind prison walls that society was quick to dismiss. "That's a profound loss," she said. As a young advocate fresh-faced out of Uni, Ms Cull was ready to take on the justice system, but said her work, particularly with Mr Duncan, made her realise she was better placed amplifying the voices of people with lived experience who know what needs to change. "What has meant the most to me is learning to listen and to join the work others are already doing. That shift in perspective has helped me be a better advocate," she said. Ms Cull said it was at times challenging to capture the anguish and depth of emotion of Mr Duncan's journey through the court and prison systems in the book, as it was "hard for him to go back there". "One of the greatest challenges was ensuring I found a way to portray Calvin's emotional life with the honesty and depth it deserved ... [other] accounts brushed past the mental and emotional anguish because those things are hard to dwell on. "Calvin says that when he reads the book, he sees himself as he is. Hearing that means more to me than anything." Initial reactions to the launch have been overwhelming, as well. Ms Cull and Mr Duncan were blown away when around three times more people showed up to the launch than they expected. Mr Duncan has even given a clear indication of his preference should his story be immortalised in film. "When a film producer asked Calvin who he'd want to portray him, he didn't hesitate: Denzel Washington," Ms Cull said. "Calvin never forgets to bring a sense of fun to whatever he's doing, even in the midst of serious work." Ms Cull is looking forward to a visit home in November to promote the book. "I always love coming back to Armidale when I visit Australia. It's a special place, and the longer I've been away, the more I appreciate what it meant to grow up here, and what it means to return," she said. "I'm really looking forward to sharing the book closer to home. Even though Calvin's story unfolded a world away, I think it will resonate with anyone who has witnessed injustice in their community and felt moved to act." Australian book sellers can order copies of The Jailhouse Lawyer, but Ms Cull warned that international shipping can be pricey. The book is otherwise available through US retailers or as an e-book and audiobook from Amazon. Calvin Duncan served more than 28 years in jail for a murder he did not commit. Now, Australian author Sophie Cull has teamed with him to co-author The Jailhouse Lawyer, a memoir recounting his life and exoneration. "It's shocking-and frankly hard to fathom-that anyone could spend 28 years in prison for a crime they didn't commit," Ms Cull said. "There are people who've spent 40 or 50 years in prison after being convicted in trials that lasted less than a day, often with lawyers who never visited them beforehand." Calvin was 19 when he was arrested for a murder-robbery in 1982 and almost faced the death penalty himself. With no one coming to his rescue, Mr Duncan taught himself law to fight his own incarceration, while helping hundreds of other inmates. "Cases like Calvin's are a powerful reminder of why, even in Australia, we should be cautious about placing blind trust in an institution as fallible as the criminal justice system," Ms Cull said. Since his release, Mr Duncan has completed his law degree and now continues his advocacy to get people better access to the court system. "Calvin inspires the rest of us every day with his advocacy on behalf of men and women in prison," Ms Cull said. One man who did support Mr Duncan 40 years ago was Mack Ferrick, the then-director of an Oregon job corps campus where Mr Duncan was living. He witnessed the arrest and even flew to New Orleans to support Mr Duncan during the trial. Mr Ferrick recently reconnected with Mr Duncan via Facebook: "He told us he always believed Calvin was innocent and was appalled by how the system treated him. We were thrilled to be able to send him a signed copy of the book, it was a powerful full-circle moment," Ms Cull said. Growing up in Armidale, NSW, with her mum as a solicitor and her Dad a member of an international human rights organisation, Ms Cull said conversations about justice "were part of everyday life". "When I was about 15, I read Dead Man Walking by Sister Helen Prejean, and it had a profound impact on me. As Helen would say, it lit a fire and made me want to work against the death penalty." Ms Cull studied criminology and focused on Indigenous Justice, but heard a talk from Sunny Jacobs, who had spent time on death row in Florida. Through that talk, she learned of student internships in the US and was accepted to a placement in New Orleans, Louisiana, in 2008. It was there, working as an advocate in Capital Cases, that she met Mr Duncan, who was released in 2011. "He was already well-known in the criminal defence community for his legal work on behalf of others while incarcerated," she said. "At Angola, he had served as a jailhouse lawyer, known officially as an 'inmate counsel substitute'. Within a week of his release, he was working in our office as a paralegal, just across the hall from me." The pair struck up conversations over strolls to get coffee and soon over lengthy roadtrips to the northwest of Louisiana for case work. "It was about six hours each way, and during those long drives, I'd ask Calvin about his life, and he would share stories from his time inside." About five years later, the duo started to record interviews, and those became the basis for writing the book. "Calvin will be the first to tell you that nearly all of his friends from that generation at Angola Prison who've come home are still doing the same work on the outside that they did on the inside," Ms Cull said. "His friends who organised politically behind bars are now working on voter education and legislative reform." People who ran the prison's award-winning newspaper, The Angolite, are now writing books and articles about the criminal justice system. "They're still playing their roles, trying to make the world better for those who come after them." Ms Cull said there was a depth of human potential locked behind prison walls that society was quick to dismiss. "That's a profound loss," she said. As a young advocate fresh-faced out of Uni, Ms Cull was ready to take on the justice system, but said her work, particularly with Mr Duncan, made her realise she was better placed amplifying the voices of people with lived experience who know what needs to change. "What has meant the most to me is learning to listen and to join the work others are already doing. That shift in perspective has helped me be a better advocate," she said. Ms Cull said it was at times challenging to capture the anguish and depth of emotion of Mr Duncan's journey through the court and prison systems in the book, as it was "hard for him to go back there". "One of the greatest challenges was ensuring I found a way to portray Calvin's emotional life with the honesty and depth it deserved ... [other] accounts brushed past the mental and emotional anguish because those things are hard to dwell on. "Calvin says that when he reads the book, he sees himself as he is. Hearing that means more to me than anything." Initial reactions to the launch have been overwhelming, as well. Ms Cull and Mr Duncan were blown away when around three times more people showed up to the launch than they expected. Mr Duncan has even given a clear indication of his preference should his story be immortalised in film. "When a film producer asked Calvin who he'd want to portray him, he didn't hesitate: Denzel Washington," Ms Cull said. "Calvin never forgets to bring a sense of fun to whatever he's doing, even in the midst of serious work." Ms Cull is looking forward to a visit home in November to promote the book. "I always love coming back to Armidale when I visit Australia. It's a special place, and the longer I've been away, the more I appreciate what it meant to grow up here, and what it means to return," she said. "I'm really looking forward to sharing the book closer to home. Even though Calvin's story unfolded a world away, I think it will resonate with anyone who has witnessed injustice in their community and felt moved to act." Australian book sellers can order copies of The Jailhouse Lawyer, but Ms Cull warned that international shipping can be pricey. The book is otherwise available through US retailers or as an e-book and audiobook from Amazon. Calvin Duncan served more than 28 years in jail for a murder he did not commit. Now, Australian author Sophie Cull has teamed with him to co-author The Jailhouse Lawyer, a memoir recounting his life and exoneration. "It's shocking-and frankly hard to fathom-that anyone could spend 28 years in prison for a crime they didn't commit," Ms Cull said. "There are people who've spent 40 or 50 years in prison after being convicted in trials that lasted less than a day, often with lawyers who never visited them beforehand." Calvin was 19 when he was arrested for a murder-robbery in 1982 and almost faced the death penalty himself. With no one coming to his rescue, Mr Duncan taught himself law to fight his own incarceration, while helping hundreds of other inmates. "Cases like Calvin's are a powerful reminder of why, even in Australia, we should be cautious about placing blind trust in an institution as fallible as the criminal justice system," Ms Cull said. Since his release, Mr Duncan has completed his law degree and now continues his advocacy to get people better access to the court system. "Calvin inspires the rest of us every day with his advocacy on behalf of men and women in prison," Ms Cull said. One man who did support Mr Duncan 40 years ago was Mack Ferrick, the then-director of an Oregon job corps campus where Mr Duncan was living. He witnessed the arrest and even flew to New Orleans to support Mr Duncan during the trial. Mr Ferrick recently reconnected with Mr Duncan via Facebook: "He told us he always believed Calvin was innocent and was appalled by how the system treated him. We were thrilled to be able to send him a signed copy of the book, it was a powerful full-circle moment," Ms Cull said. Growing up in Armidale, NSW, with her mum as a solicitor and her Dad a member of an international human rights organisation, Ms Cull said conversations about justice "were part of everyday life". "When I was about 15, I read Dead Man Walking by Sister Helen Prejean, and it had a profound impact on me. As Helen would say, it lit a fire and made me want to work against the death penalty." Ms Cull studied criminology and focused on Indigenous Justice, but heard a talk from Sunny Jacobs, who had spent time on death row in Florida. Through that talk, she learned of student internships in the US and was accepted to a placement in New Orleans, Louisiana, in 2008. It was there, working as an advocate in Capital Cases, that she met Mr Duncan, who was released in 2011. "He was already well-known in the criminal defence community for his legal work on behalf of others while incarcerated," she said. "At Angola, he had served as a jailhouse lawyer, known officially as an 'inmate counsel substitute'. Within a week of his release, he was working in our office as a paralegal, just across the hall from me." The pair struck up conversations over strolls to get coffee and soon over lengthy roadtrips to the northwest of Louisiana for case work. "It was about six hours each way, and during those long drives, I'd ask Calvin about his life, and he would share stories from his time inside." About five years later, the duo started to record interviews, and those became the basis for writing the book. "Calvin will be the first to tell you that nearly all of his friends from that generation at Angola Prison who've come home are still doing the same work on the outside that they did on the inside," Ms Cull said. "His friends who organised politically behind bars are now working on voter education and legislative reform." People who ran the prison's award-winning newspaper, The Angolite, are now writing books and articles about the criminal justice system. "They're still playing their roles, trying to make the world better for those who come after them." Ms Cull said there was a depth of human potential locked behind prison walls that society was quick to dismiss. "That's a profound loss," she said. As a young advocate fresh-faced out of Uni, Ms Cull was ready to take on the justice system, but said her work, particularly with Mr Duncan, made her realise she was better placed amplifying the voices of people with lived experience who know what needs to change. "What has meant the most to me is learning to listen and to join the work others are already doing. That shift in perspective has helped me be a better advocate," she said. Ms Cull said it was at times challenging to capture the anguish and depth of emotion of Mr Duncan's journey through the court and prison systems in the book, as it was "hard for him to go back there". "One of the greatest challenges was ensuring I found a way to portray Calvin's emotional life with the honesty and depth it deserved ... [other] accounts brushed past the mental and emotional anguish because those things are hard to dwell on. "Calvin says that when he reads the book, he sees himself as he is. Hearing that means more to me than anything." Initial reactions to the launch have been overwhelming, as well. Ms Cull and Mr Duncan were blown away when around three times more people showed up to the launch than they expected. Mr Duncan has even given a clear indication of his preference should his story be immortalised in film. "When a film producer asked Calvin who he'd want to portray him, he didn't hesitate: Denzel Washington," Ms Cull said. "Calvin never forgets to bring a sense of fun to whatever he's doing, even in the midst of serious work." Ms Cull is looking forward to a visit home in November to promote the book. "I always love coming back to Armidale when I visit Australia. It's a special place, and the longer I've been away, the more I appreciate what it meant to grow up here, and what it means to return," she said. "I'm really looking forward to sharing the book closer to home. Even though Calvin's story unfolded a world away, I think it will resonate with anyone who has witnessed injustice in their community and felt moved to act." Australian book sellers can order copies of The Jailhouse Lawyer, but Ms Cull warned that international shipping can be pricey. The book is otherwise available through US retailers or as an e-book and audiobook from Amazon.
Yahoo
06-06-2025
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
Steven Flynn, Former Gramercy Pictures and Focus Features Marketing Executive, Dies at 70
Steven Flynn, a marketing executive who worked for Gramercy Pictures and Focus Features, among many other companies, died May 23 at Providence Saint John's Health Center after a four-year battle with renal cancer, his family announced. He was 70. Flynn was instrumental in the marketing of such notable films as Four Weddings and a Funeral (1994), The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert (1994), The Usual Suspects (1995), Dead Man Walking (1995), Fargo (1996), The Big Lebowski (1998), Being John Malkovich (1999), Traffic (2000), Gosford Park (2001), The Revenant (2015), Bohemian Rhapsody (2018) and Once Upon a Time in Hollywood (2019). More from The Hollywood Reporter Joanne Gilbert, 'The Great Man' and 'High Cost of Loving' Actress, Dies at 92 Renée Victor, Voice of Abuelita in 'Coco,' Dies at 86 Devin Harjes, 'Boardwalk Empire,' 'Daredevil' and 'Gotham' Actor, Dies at 41 In September 1993, Gramercy president Russell Schwartz hired Flynn as senior vp marketing at the recently launched label, a joint venture of PolyGram Filmed Entertainment and Universal Pictures. He stayed on as Gramercy merged with October Films in 1999 to become USA Films and USA combined with Good Machine in 2001 to create Focus Features, where he rose to executive vp marketing through 2007. He then served as a marketing consultant for Vivendi Entertainment, National Geographic, 42 West, 20th Century Fox, Focus and Sony Pictures Entertainment. 'Steven was my first hire at Gramercy Pictures and quickly showed himself to be the most optimistic and problem-solving marketing executive I ever met,' Schwartz said in a statement. 'Under his supervision, he handled everything marketing-related and even organized the entire front and back office during Gramercy's early days. 'Gramercy was the closest company to Camelot that many of us had ever worked at, and Steven's presence was a big part of it. It's no wonder his email address is mrmovies@ Raised in Fenton, Michigan, Steven Francis Flynn graduated from Fenton High School in 1972 and attended the University of Michigan, where he studied electrical engineering. On the side, he worked as a manager at a movie theater in Ann Arbor. In 1977, he coordinated a televised college football halftime show that featured Star Wars during its original theatrical run and caught the attention of Salah M. Hassanein, then-president of UA Theaters' Eastern Division. Hassanein summoned him to New York and hired him. Flynn advanced to senior vp advertising at the UA division through 1990, when he moved to Orion Pictures as vp field publicity and promotions/exhibitor relations. He marketed many of that upstart company's films, including the best picture Oscar winners Dances With Wolves (1990) and The Silence of the Lambs (1991). In 1992, Flynn relocated to Los Angeles to launch Edge Marketing before landing at Gramercy. Four years later, he joined the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences. Survivors include his partner of 43 years, Timothy; sisters Linda and Patricia; niece Shelby; and nephews Jeff and Sean. A graveside service and memorial is set for June 20 in Flint, Michigan, with an additional life celebration to be held layer in the Los Angeles area. Contributions in his memory may be made to the Motion Picture & Television Fund. Best of The Hollywood Reporter 13 of Tom Cruise's Most Jaw-Dropping Stunts Hollywood Stars Who Are One Award Away From an EGOT 'The Goonies' Cast, Then and Now
Yahoo
17-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
Susan Sarandon's lawsuit against WMass contractor dismissed
SPRINGFIELD — Six months before Oscar winner Susan Sarandon was set to go to trial after suing a Western Massachusetts contractor, the case was dismissed in federal court on May 15. Sarandon, under her corporate businesses, went after Western Massachusetts contractor Chad DeGrenier and his wife over a retirement home and compound in a tiny country setting in Vermont where just over 800 people are listed as residents. In court records, Sarandon has said she regarded the $2 million project as the spot where she will live out some of her last years of life in New England. Sarandon, 78, is best known for her Oscar-winning role as a nun in 'Dead Man Walking,' and other roles in 'Bull Durham,' 'Witches of Eastwick' and more. The federal court record only reflected a stipulation of dismissal among the parties, without providing more detail. A trial was scheduled for U.S. District Court in Springfield beginning Oct. 27 before Judge Mark G. Mastroianni but that has been canceled given the recent development, according to the court docket. The most recent and significant development in the case came through a denied motion for Sarandon's camp to seize a $125,000 piece of equipment. 'Plaintiffs argue they are likely to succeed on the merits of their claims of breach of the agreement because it is undisputed that defendants bought the Kubota on behalf of plaintiffs for use at the property, and the agreement provides that, at its termination, defendants will return to plaintiffs any items of property owned by plaintiffs that is in defendants' possession,' U.S. Magistrate Judge Katherine Robertson wrote in a decision last year. Sarandon's original complaint alleged the home had man faults, including buckled walls, an unfinished bedroom and other flaws. Mass. weather: Severe weather, chance of tornado, hail this afternoon Girl Scouts of Central and Western MA is hosting a recruitment event at the East Forest Park Branch Library 2nd Bands For Brittney Fundraiser to rock in Hadley on Saturday 'This place is going to come alive': Pride stores founder unveils Hope Center for the Arts Read the original article on MassLive.
Yahoo
13-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
Sean Penn expresses doubt about Woody Allen sex abuse allegations: ‘WHO BENEFITTED FROM THAT?'
Sean Penn weighed in on Woody Allen's alleged sexual abuse of adopted daughter Dylan Farrow, and said he would happily collaborate with the director again. 'I'd work with him in a heartbeat — if it was the right thing,' Penn said on Tuesday's episode of the Louis Theroux Podcast. Penn starred alongside Samantha Morton, Uma Thurman and Anthony LaPaglia in the 1999 musical comedy Sweet and Lowdown, which Allen wrote and directed. Theroux asked the two-time Oscar winner whether he thought the 89-year-old filmmaker had 'a bad rap.' Penn replied: 'With these things, I don't know anyone well enough to say, '100%, this didn't happen, that didn't happen.'' He added: 'The stories are mostly told by people that I wouldn't trust with a dime. It just seems so heavily weighted in that way.' Penn scoffed when Theroux pointed out that it was both Dylan, 39, and her journalist brother, Ronan Farrow, who made the allegations, which were initiated by their mother, Mia Farrow.. 'Well, you gave him that title, not me. But yes, Ronan Farrow,' Penn snapped, prompting Theroux to point out that Ronan 'writes for the New Yorker' and is 'quite respected.' Penn admitted that he is 'an ignoramus,' but noted, 'I am not aware of any clinical psychologist or psychiatrist or anyone I've ever heard talk or spoken to around the subject of pedophilia that in 80 years of life, there's accusations of it happening only once.' In 1992, Dylan alleged that her adoptive father had molested her when she was seven, though he has long denied any accusations of sexual abuse and was never charged. Allen responded that Mia concocted the allegation after they broke up and he started dating her other adopted daughter, Soon-Yi Previn — whom he married in 1997. Dylan has maintained her story for decades. She first went public in 2014 with an open letter in the New York Times. Four years later, following sex abuse allegations involving the now-convicted Harvey Weinstein, Dylan penned an op-ed in the Los Angeles Times asking, 'Why has the #MeToo revolution spared Woody Allen?' The Dead Man Walking star suggested the general public 'check him with the facts separate from the moment and the (#MeToo) movement and all.' Penn asked: 'Who benefitted from that? Let's just take a second. That's all I'm saying.' The 64-year-old added that he presumes Allen is 'innocent' because he has never been proven guilty of a crime. Sean Penn 'frustrated' with the world and is 'glad' he's old Sean Penn says he felt 'misery' making movies for years. Then Dakota Johnson knocked on his door Sean Penn slams Oscars for its 'cowardice' in fiery rant
New York Times
04-03-2025
- Entertainment
- New York Times
Review: ‘Moby-Dick,' the Opera, Cuts the Blubber
The opening line of Herman Melville's 'Moby-Dick' is one of the most famous in literature. But Jake Heggie and Gene Scheer, whose moody, monochromatic 2010 adaptation arrived at the Metropolitan Opera on Monday, conspicuously avoid placing those classic three words at the start. It's an early declaration of independence, the kind that artists have always had to make when turning a well-known novel — especially one as sprawling and shaggy as Melville's — into singing. Heggie, who also composed the well-traveled opera 'Dead Man Walking' (2000), and Scheer, an experienced librettist, have narrowed one of the canon's most overflowing works to its core plot. For readers who enjoyed 'Moby-Dick' but yawned through the rambling digressions about whaling, do I have an opera for you. The compressed adaptation is direct and clear, at least. Some contemporary operas, of which the Met has offered a burst over the last few seasons, lean heavily on confusing devices: complicated flashbacks; characters shadowed by doubles; singers playing metaphorical qualities like Destiny and Loneliness; split-screen-style scenes crossing place and time. 'Moby-Dick' wants none of that. It stretches across a year or so, but in a linear way. It never leaves the ship Pequod and its salty surroundings. Its characters are flesh-and-blood people. Yet the opera only rarely takes on flesh-and-blood urgency. While the story is streamlined and straightforward — a ship's crew struggles with the demanding whims of a vindictive captain — Heggie and Scheer also want to capture Melville's brooding grandeur, philosophical profundity and portentous language. So the prevailing mood is a dark, ponderous blue — a lot of stern, turgidly paced musings directed straight at the audience. The goal seems to have been to create a piece that's lucid and vibrant, but also dreamlike and meditative. A piece, in other words, much along the lines of 'Billy Budd,' Benjamin Britten's opera based on another seafaring Melville tragedy in which a ship becomes a petri dish for archetypal struggles. This is where the ambitions of Heggie's 'Moby-Dick' adaptation run up against his limitations as a composer. 'Billy Budd' fascinates because of the haunting complexities of Britten's music, but the meditations in this 'Moby-Dick' end up feeling dully one-note, as shallow as a tide pool. Even the circumscribed world of the opera includes a storm, a mast lit up by St. Elmo's fire, intimations of the South Seas, night and day, stillness and dance, vast expanses of sky — yet the music fails to meet the demand for these textures and colors. Heggie doesn't have many ideas beyond squarely undulating minor-key references to Philip Glass, John Adams and Britten himself. Every composer's work has influences, but these quotations are startlingly unadorned, even if played with spirit by the Met's orchestra under the conductor Karen Kamensek. Lovers of traditional operatic forms will find much to admire here, as Heggie and Scheer have embraced the kind of ensembles — duets, trios, quartets — that allow this art form to present multiple perspectives at once. But the variety in the text is not matched by variety in the score, and the conflicts that should energize the story don't always feel vital. The real tension is — or should be — between Captain Ahab, whose obsessive pursuit of the whale Moby Dick has drowned his humanity, and Starbuck, the sensible first mate who tries to steer the whole operation clear of disaster. But the opera gets distracted by a side plot about finding brotherhood amid racial and religious difference: Greenhorn — the name the opera gives the novel's narrator — first fears and then befriends Queequeg, the Polynesian harpooner. It's not until nearly an hour and a half into the three-hour opera that it really holds your attention for the first time. In a ruminative aria, Starbuck mulls whether to murder the sleeping Ahab to save himself and his shipmates. In the end, he can't bring himself to do it, and he slinks out as Ahab softly moans and the curtain falls. The sequence is riveting — but we've waited until the end of the first act for it. For the other highlight, we have to wait again, until late in the opera, when Ahab finally lets down his guard with Starbuck and confronts the cost of his single-minded mania. It is the calm before the final, doomed hunt, and Heggie endows it with real tenderness. Ahab, though, primarily expresses himself through drearily similar monologues, grounded in Melvillean diction and given a similarly antiquated musical feel through robustly shaking Handel-style coloratura. The tenor Brandon Jovanovich, stalking the stage with a belted-on peg leg, conveys a sense of Ahab's weariness more than of his intensity. The cast is entirely male, with the exception of the soprano who plays the young cabin boy Pip; Janai Brugger captures the boy's otherworldly purity. The baritone Thomas Glass was a solid Starbuck and acted with remarkable confidence, given that he was announced as a replacement for an ill Peter Mattei just a few hours before the opening on Monday — a performance that began with the orchestra playing the Ukrainian national anthem, the Met's latest gesture of solidarity with that country. While the tenor Stephen Costello was a plangent Greenhorn, the bass-baritone Ryan Speedo Green sounded underpowered as Queequeg, with little to do except intone native prayers. The sweet-toned tenor William Burden was piquant among the smaller roles. Leonard Foglia's handsome production, with sets by Robert Brill, costumes by Jane Greenwood and lighting by Gavan Swift, is dominated by masts and rigging. The deck cleverly curves up into a backdrop that cast members can climb up and tumble down, seeming — with the help of Elaine J. McCarthy's projections — to be lost at sea as their boats are broken in the whale hunts. It is a clear staging of a clear piece. But that piece lacks the ingenuity and depth to hold its own with its source material, let alone break free. And it turns out that Heggie and Scheer's opening salvo of independence was just a coy deferral until the opera's closing moment. As Greenhorn, the Pequod's only survivor, is rescued by a passing ship, the captain asks his name. Costello answers, singing low and mournful: 'Call me Ishmael.'
