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CBS News
25-03-2025
- Entertainment
- CBS News
Outside Lands announces Tyler, The Creator, Hozier, Doja Cat as 2025 headliners
Organizers of the annual Outside Lands Music Festival in San Francisco's Golden Gate Park this August on Tuesday morning revealed headliners Tyler, The Creator, Hozier and Doja Cat and the rest of the line-up for the 2025 event. Tyler, The Creator returns to the festival's line-up after canceling his appearances at both Outside Lands and Lollapalooza last year for undisclosed "personal reasons." The rapper made the announcement in June . Sabrina Carpenter ended up filling in at the 2024 edition of the festival to wide acclaim. Other acts high on the bill include DJ/producer John Summit, modern R&B juggernaut Anderson .Paak & The Free Nationals, indie-rock favorites Vampire Weekend and Glass Animals, British soul vocalist Jorja Smith, singer-songwriter Gracie Abrams electronic acts Jamie xx, Floating Points and Gesaffelstein, influential producer Jack Antonoff with his band Bleachers and hip-hop stars Doechii and Ludacris. The Bay Area sees some representation with the inclusion of local acts like songwriter Still Woozy, rapper LaRussell and Sacramento punk band Destroy Boys. Organizers stressed that the lineup is subject to change. The schedule outlining the days and times acts perform will be released closer to the event, which will take place August 8-10. Tickets for the three-day event will go on sale to the general public on Wednesday, March 26 at 10 a.m. PT at the event's website . Three-day general admission (GA) tickets are $499 with fees included. 3-day GA+ tickets and 3-day VIP tickets will also be available at higher price points. The festival is again offering payment plans for those who prefer to pay in installments starting at $99 down. As in past years, tickets are expected to sell quickly. On March 5, early "Eager Beaver" presale tickets for Outside Lands sold out the same morning . Since it started in 2008, Outside Lands has become one of the city's major musical events. The festival typically draws more than 200,000 people to Golden Gate Park over the course of the weekend, generating millions for the city's Recreation and Park Department, as well as the economic benefits created by concertgoers spending in the city.
Telegraph
04-03-2025
- Entertainment
- Telegraph
Demi Moore and the original Anora: The sexed-up saga of Striptease
Anora – this year's unqualified champion at the Oscars, with five awards from six nominations – has been the making of 25-year-old Mikey Madison as a young performer with her Best Actress win. But for runner-up Demi Moore, the fact that it's a crime caper about a hard-up stripper can only have been bittersweet. Moore's equivalent film, at the zenith of her mid-1990s fame as a so-called 'popcorn actress', was a debacle: the most high-profile release in a wounding run of flops that sent her packing. When The Substance gets described as Moore's comeback, it's this bitter experience she has come back from. Striptease (1996) was an unfortunate misfire that has left, at best, a limited cultural imprint. It might be hard to stick up for – or even sit through – these days, but the opprobrium piled onto Moore for starring in it seems ever more cruel with hindsight. Adapted from a zany bestseller by the Florida crime writer Carl Hiaasen, this trashy bauble from Columbia Pictures cast Moore, then 34, as Erin Grant, a single mother fighting for custody of her 7-year-old child (played, really quite sweetly, by her real-life daughter Rumer Willis). Erin has just lost her job as a secretary for the FBI, because her scumbag ex-husband (Robert Patrick) has a criminal record. Out of desperation, she becomes an exotic dancer at a strip joint in Miami called the Eager Beaver, and becomes embroiled in a shady plot involving the sleaziest of its patrons, a perma-tanned US Congressman played by a bewigged Burt Reynolds. An admittedly tatty piece of storytelling which grinds to a halt as often as possible for topless dance routines, the film still lingers as a lesson in female risk – much as Paul Verhoeven's Showgirls did the year before. Both were big-budget studio pictures, costing $40-45 million at the time – unlike the very independent Anora, of course, which cost a mere $6 million of 2024's dollars. As glossy commercial propositions, Showgirls and Striptease both used nudity as a 'sell', which Anora makes more complicated. And herein the danger lied. When they failed, a lion's share of the flak was directed, in a predictable but obviously sexist way, towards the actresses who were going out on a limb. Elizabeth Berkley's film career instantly died when Showgirls flopped, and Moore blames the reaction to Striptease, more than any other film, for destroying her reputation at the time. Even before the film came out, the backlash began with her salary. Moore was paid a highly publicised $12.5m for Striptease, which made her Hollywood's highest paid actress at the time. The figure put her nearly in league, even, with the men: her then-husband Bruce Willis got $14 million for Die Hard with a Vengeance (1995). But not quite. (The same year Striptease came out, Jim Carrey became the first actor to crack $20 million for a single role, in The Cable Guy.) Moore would never be paid so much again, but she could point to a track record which justified this coup. She had a string of four hits to her name – Ghost (1990), A Few Good Men (1992), Indecent Proposal (1993) and Disclosure (1994) – which made her the most bankable actress in Hollywood, especially because these pictures coincided with a Julia Roberts wobble in the mid-1990s. Yet her hot streak didn't last long. Moore's first demeaning flop was The Scarlet Letter, in the autumn of 1995, but that was six months after the Striptease deal was in the bag. Indeed, she was already on location in Florida when the bad Scarlet news (it was the critical punching bag of that awards season) came in. Her Grisham-esque legal drama The Juror then tanked, too, in February 1996, boding even more badly. Moore was about to expose herself – in every sense – at the moment when her prospects were at their diciest. The knives were being sharpened. 'It was about changing the playing field for all women,' Moore recently told Variety about her Striptease salary. And it actually did. The very day that news was announced in March 1995, Sharon Stone's asking price jumped up from $6m to $7m, Jodie Foster's from $7 million to $8 million, Meg Ryan's from $6 million to $8 million, and Roberts's from $12 million to $13 million – thereby overtaking Moore, in fact. '[Moore] is every bit as valuable as the dozen guys who get comparable money,' said one studio executive, Martin Shafer, to Entertainment Weekly in 1995, calling her 'the biggest female star in the world' when reckoned internationally. But Shafer was (and still is) the president of Castle Rock Entertainment, who made Striptease. His wasn't the prevailing view in Hollywood. 'Why pay her $12m to take her clothes off,' griped another anonymous exec, 'when she does it for [magazines] for free?' Despite this reference to her iconic August 1991 Vanity Fair cover, in which Moore posed pregnant and nude, she was clearly taking a far bigger chance on Striptease than Willis was with the third Die Hard. To offer up her whole body as the film's centrepiece attraction, she felt she should be paid accordingly, and given how much she wound up in the firing line, it's hard to disagree. There's a counter-argument that Moore's salary itself was the main cause of the vitriol spilled. But consider Elizabeth Berkley, who was paid only $100,000 for Showgirls. It still ruined her. Moore gained notoriety by fortifying herself with a very expensive entourage, totalling eight assistants, including a personal trainer and private chef, leading her to be dubbed 'Gimme Moore' for her on-set demands. She also paid for breast augmentation surgery, offering audiences the promise of even more Moore. 'For a woman who has given birth to three children, she is in remarkable physical shape,' conceded the review of one female critic who will remain nameless. 'But I don't know what kind of shape a woman's brain would have to be in to get her to make this movie.' Years after being haunted by this kind of terrible publicity around the film's release, Moore manages to be philosophical. As she told Variety last year: 'I think anyone who... was the first to get that kind of equality of pay would probably have taken a hit. But because I did a film that was dealing with the world of stripping and the body, I was extremely shamed.' Striptease has an inflated reputation for awfulness: it's just turgid, dawdling, and mostly unfunny, save for a few quips from the game Ving Rhames as an affable bouncer. Writer-director Andrew Bergman (The Freshman, Honeymoon in Vegas) palpably struggles to make it the romp it was surely intended to be. He defended the effort in 2019, while also explaining the struggle. 'Is Demi the funniest person in the world? No. Would the movie have been made without her? Probably not. No other major star was willing to take her clothes off, and I was not going to do a TNT version of Striptease with people running around in swimsuits.' Bergman's direction is hopelessly adrift, though. The story lumbers. At one point the film cross-cuts, nonsensically, between Moore on a yacht and a co-star stripping in the Eager Beaver, with the same music track (Eurythmics' Sweet Dreams) playing in both venues. This feels like the editor's solution to get another half-minute of bump and grind in, but it rudely interrupts what's meant to be a dramatic showdown with the Reynolds and Patrick characters: so much for priorities. Moore has charming scenes with her daughter and with Rhames, but otherwise seems in a different film from anyone else. Erin Grant is too icked out – too 'above' stripping, with her take-me-seriously backstory – to feel empowered or uninhibited. This gets in Moore's way, or at least prevents her having any fun. It means there's a going-through-the-motions quality to her routines, right on the edge of robotic, which (mostly male) critics certainly noticed when they bandied the word 'unsexy' around. Politely flirting with a wild side, the character belongs to an era of queasy voyeurism. Also an era of mockery and shaming. Moore had yet another scarlet letter stamped on her head when reviews came out. Shafer was right that her international appeal came to the rescue – up to a point. Contrary to assumptions that it was a giant box-office bomb, Striptease grossed a decent-enough $113.3m worldwide. But only $33m of that was in the USA, which counted as a telling defeat on home turf. It was clear that Moore had lost her bread-and-butter appeal at American multiplexes, with or without bigger boobs. It was her third underperforming film in a row, and G.I. Jane (1997) would make it four. She all but gave up after that. Moore must have hoped Striptease would be her daring, funny Pretty Woman moment, but the move seemed so calculated and the financial incentive so blatant that she was vilified for crossing a line. She wasn't alone. Women couldn't give physical, unashamedly sexualised performances in the 1990s without the affront coming back to bite them at some point. It happened quickly with Madonna, and eventually with Sharon Stone. The curse straggled on, besetting the likes of Jennifer Lopez in Gigli (2003) and Halle Berry in Catwoman (2004). Even when Lopez made Hustlers (2018), which began with that extraordinary pole-dance routine she mastered at 50, the acclaim only went so far. It was the performance of her career for many other reasons, and should have netted her an Oscar. She wasn't even nominated. What put voters off? Was it Lopez herself? Or was it that pole-dance? For Madison to have won Best Actress this year in such an overtly raunchy role suggests some portion of the above stigma has been, at long last, set aside. Of course, Anora is much more sensitively 'gritty' than Striptease, and less crass – not a studio picture selling sex, but an indie auteur piece critiquing the way it's sold. Even so, it must be hard for Moore not to look over in Madison's direction and rue what a difference a generation makes, in the films being made, and the pathways for respectable acting careers she poignantly missed out on.
