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Yomiuri Shimbun
an hour ago
- Health
- Yomiuri Shimbun
Some Advice from LGBTQ Elders as Worldpride Kicks off Amid Fears
Matt McClain/The Washington Post People dance during a WorldPride Welcome Party at Berhta in Northeast Washington on Saturday. They were born too late to have witnessed Stonewall, lived through darkest days of the HIV/AIDS epidemic or have memories of a time when it was illegal for same-sex couples to marry anywhere in the country. Still, four 20-somethings from a small private college in south-central Pennsylvania got out of bed before sunrise and spent a few hours on a bus to D.C. so they could make it to the U.S. Supreme Court for a gathering that would take them back in time. They would listen as longtime LGBTQ advocates, who had come together to celebrate the 100th anniversary of gay pioneer Frank E. Kameny's birth, spoke about struggle and the progress it has wrought. They would hold candles and look on as those advocates marched in loops in the high court's shadow holding large signs – black lettering on white poster board that recalled the very first gay rights demonstration in the nation's capital 60 years ago. The posters declared such things as 'Gay is good' and 'Homosexuals ask for the right to the pursuit of happiness.' Tatiana Gonzales, 22, watched in awe, an electric candle in each hand, a 'trans lives matter' shirt peeking out from beneath their black hoodie. Gonzales would later describe the experience as transformative, how the candles in their own hands felt more like a passed torch – a reminder that their generation must pick up the work started long before to ensure that progress is not undone. 'Wow,' Gonzales recalled thinking, 'these are really the people that helped make this happen. These are really the people who fought for us to have these rights.' As D.C. decks itself in rainbows and welcomes WorldPride, one of the largest international observances of Pride Month, many LGBTQ people say that they are finding inspiration not by imagining a brighter future – but instead by revisiting a more hostile past. After years of buoyant celebrations of advancements and greater acceptance for members of the LGBTQ community over the last two decades, for many, Pride is taking place this year in the shadow of mounting legal and cultural attacks: books featuring LGBTQ+ characters have been removed from school libraries and curriculums; hate crimes are on the rise; the federal government has barred transgender people from the military and girls' sports; HIV prevention programs and gender-affirming health care have been slashed; drag shows have been banned at the Kennedy Center; and state legislatures around the country have introduced more than 500 anti-LGBTQ+ bills. The young people assembled outside the Supreme Court that day kept coming back to one word: 'Scary.' They feel fearful of political and social attacks on LGBTQ people, they said, and they worry about the safety of their friends, family and even themselves. 'There's a very real shot that we won't have those rights that we've just kind of had for the majority of our lives,' said Elspeth Hunter, 20. 'It's so scary.' In the D.C. area, LGBTQ trailblazers who formed secret societies in the '60s, marched in the '70s, read aloud the names of AIDS patients of the '80s and '90s, and staged kiss-ins and mass weddings in the aughts have also been reflecting on the nature of progress: how it is won and how it is protected. How they hope the next generation is listening – and preparing – to carry it into the future. Finding 'familia' at Pride José Gutierrez, 63, knows what it feels like to watch the government turn its back on LGBTQ people. When he was in his 20s, Gutierrez said, he kept a personal phone book with the names and numbers of all the people he knew. In the worst throes of the HIV/AIDS epidemic, he said, he would open that book nearly every month to cross out the names of those who had died. The grief felt inescapable, unending. 'I wish that new generations knew what that was like,' he said. 'Those were difficult times because we didn't have any medications, we didn't have services, and people that were infected with HIV/AIDS, some of them, not everybody, but some, would prefer to commit suicide.' In 1993, Gutierrez was invited to attend the March on Washington for Lesbian, Gay and Bi Equal Rights and Liberation as a representative from Atlanta and a member of the Latino community. When he arrived, he said, he could hardly believe what he was witnessing: A million people in the streets. ACT UP protesters carrying coffins through the city to protest the government's inaction in response to the epidemic. A giant memorial quilt unfurled across the National Mall that included panels from every state and 28 countries. Gutierrez was asked to read aloud the names of Latino people who had died of the disease. Recalling that moment still makes him weep. Gutierrez moved to Washington soon after, inspired to continue working to support those who were HIV-positive and immigrants and Latinos in the LGBTQ community. He's advocated for better bilingual health care and education about the HIV/AIDS epidemic and worked to create distinct spaces for LGBTQ Latinos in the District. In 2000, he founded the Latino GLBT History Project. Seven years later, he organized the first D.C. Latino Pride. On Saturday, Gutierrez will ride at the front of the Pride parade as an honoree and co-chair of this year's WorldPride march – an event he said is as much a protest as it is a celebration. 'We're protesting because we need visibility for many reasons. The first is: We have, against our community, the LGBTQ community and especially the transgender community, so much violence and hate,' Gutierrez said. 'We also need to celebrate our lives, our rights, even though we are now having a lot of issues, just to be with thousands and thousands of people around the world in a safe space.' 'Familia, like we call it in Spanish,' he added. At Pride, 'we're in familia.' The pendulum keeps swinging Eva Freund isn't coming to the parade. She doesn't like crowds or loud noises and, is still recovering from a fall last year in which she broke her femur. But at 87, Freund is one of the earliest members of the District's first gay rights group, the Mattachine Society of Washington, and still makes herself – and her beliefs – known everywhere she goes. In the retirement community where she lives with her wife, Elke Martin, Freund's front door stands out in the long, winding hall. Rainbow flags dot the wall, the door frame and the flower pot from which a long, winding pothos vine crawls. A sticker declares her home a 'hate free zone,' and a rainbow plate says, 'Love always wins.' An ornate marriage contract, framed and signed by Freund and Martin, hangs in the hallway surrounded by photos. Even the mezuzah at the entryway is painted as a rainbow. On a recent day, as Freund made her way upstairs, a young man stopped and thanked her for speaking out at a recent event. 'Hey, kudos to you for saying what everyone was thinking,' the man said. Freund smiled. She had asked a visiting politician what meaningful actions they planned to take to protect marginalized people – she was tired of the talk and the 'do-nothing Democrats,' she said. 'I just appreciate you standing up and saying what you said yesterday; I know that's nothing new to you,' he added. 'But especially in that setting where everybody's there and everybody's kind of like, 'Did she really just say that?' And, like, 'Yeah. She did.' ' When Freund began identifying as a lesbian in the 1960s, being gay was all but illegal in public spaces. Workers suspected of being gay were fired from their jobs in the federal government. LGBTQ people were routinely rounded up and arrested at bars or in parks amid police raids. Even the American Psychiatric Association at the time classified homosexuality as a mental illness. In her youth, Freund demonstrated for women's rights and gay liberation. She carried signs with other trailblazers like Paul Kuntzler and Lilli Vincenz, calling for federal reforms and the removal of homosexuality from the APA's list of mental illness diagnoses. She was defiant in the face of police, who, when Freund was at a D.C. lesbian bar with her friends in the early '60s, raided the joint, asking each patron to hand over their IDs. 'I never saw myself as an activist. I saw myself as a curmudgeon,' Freund said. 'I wouldn't be necessarily someone who wanted to lead marches or organize marches, because I know that change comes incrementally. Unless you have a really bloody revolution, change does not come in a big fell swoop. And people's minds get changed incrementally.' But, she admits, she has seen a whole lot of change: Friends, who for years hid who they were, able to come out. Her marriage to Martin, her partner of more than 30 years. Legal protection against discrimination – in Virginia, where she lives, it's illegal to deny housing or employment to anyone based on sexual orientation or gender identity. She doesn't take it for granted. Freund has recently found herself thinking about the period after the Civil War – a period of reconstruction and freedom, for some, but also a devastating backlash that brought with it systemic segregation and discrimination against Black Americans. 'When the pendulum swings,' she said, 'the folks who are in power lose power, and they can't stand it. So when they get back in power they have to chip, chip, chip, chip away' at whatever progress was made. 'The question,' she went on, 'is how much damage can they accomplish in all that chipping?' Freund does what she can in her own little slice of the world to keep that chipping at bay. That means trying to help young people understand the history that came before them – how to persevere in the face of hatred and discrimination – and being out, proud and visible. Each night when Freund goes down to the community dining room to eat with her wife, she said, the two of them walk in together, past tables of people, holding hands. The last survivor of the 1965 march Kuntzler, the sole surviving participant of the District's first gay rights march in 1965, has remained active in the ways he knows how. The 82-year-old, who still rides his bike to get around the city, is a regular at anti-Donald Trump demonstrations, having attended the 2017 Women's March on Washington, where he held up a sign that read 'Donald Trump Is the Ugly American' (a nod to the 1958 novel 'The Ugly American'). He later walked in the March for Science and the People's Climate March. In April, Kuntzler marked Trump's second term by attending the 'Hands Off!' rally on the National Mall with a homemade sign: 'Trumpism is fascism.' Later that month, he joined supporters at a reenactment of the 1965 protest for gay rights in front of the White House. As he walked in circles outside the tall White House fence, Kuntzler held up a placard much like the one he made more than half a century ago. It read: 'Fifteen Million U.S. Homosexuals Protest Federal Treatment.' The figure he cited – 15 million – was an estimate based on the statistic that about 10 percent of the population at the time was probably gay. Decades later, Kuntzler marvels at the passage of time and the progress it has brought. Gay and lesbian politicians hold office in Congress and state legislatures around the country; the former U.S. secretary of transportation, Pete Buttigieg, is openly gay, married and a dad. Kuntzler and his partner of more than 40 years, Stephen Brent Miller, became legal domestic partners in a civil ceremony in 2002 – two years before Massachusetts became the first U.S. state to legalize same-sex marriage. 'Well, I think probably the national gay community, LGBT, probably have made more progress than any other group in America. I mean, the change has been astonishing,' Kuntzler said. 'We couldn't conceive of the idea back in the '60s that there would be laws to protect us from discrimination, that there would be openly gay elected officials. … The whole idea of marriage equality was something we couldn't conceive of.' Kuntzler ran Kameny's campaign for Congress in 1971 – a historic first in several ways: Kameny was the first openly gay man to seek congressional office and he did so in the District of Columbia's first election for its nonvoting delegate seat. Kuntzler had planned to attend Kameny's centennial demonstration, but rainy weather kept him home. Kuntzler was heartened, however, to hear that so many young people had attended. He hopes they'll also come to a public exhibit he's featured in and leads tours of: the Rainbow History Project's display in Freedom Plaza on 'Pickets, Protests, and Parades: The History of Gay Pride in Washington.' Vincent Slatt, the curator, said he built the exhibit to be more than a look back at history. Slatt said he hopes it serves as inspiration – and instruction. 'At that first picket in 1965, it was 10 people outside the White House. By the 1993 March on Washington, it was a million people. What we have grown here, in Washington, D.C., is a movement,' Slatt said. 'This exhibit is not about old people and what old people do or did. … These were all young people who got off their asses and fought, and sometimes they won and sometimes they lost. But over 60 years, we've won a lot more than we've lost.'
Yahoo
8 hours ago
- General
- Yahoo
Jonathan Joss' Killer 'Immediately' Confessed He 'Shot Him' with a Rifle, Police Report Alleges
The police report from Jonathan Joss' shooting death at age 59 on June 1 alleged that his killer confessed "immediately" when he was detained An alleged dispute with Joss' neighbor at the King of the Hill voice actor's property in San Antonio, Texas, turned fatal Suspect Sigfredo Alvarez Ceja has been arrested and charged with first-degree murderThe suspect in Jonathan Joss' death allegedly confessed to the crime, according to a responding officer's incident report. A police report obtained by PEOPLE on Tuesday, June 3, offered an eerie look into the Parks and Recreation alum's shooting death two days prior. According to a responding officer from the San Antonio Police Department, 56-year-old Sigfredo Alvarez Ceja admitted that he 'intentionally and knowingly discharged a weapon' at Joss. Per the report, Ceja, who PEOPLE can confirm was a neighbor of Joss, was being detained by authorities near the scene and allegedly "immediately told them, 'I shot him.'' It also listed a rifle as the weapon used to kill the actor. Additionally, the report laid out a timeline of events, which began at around 7 p.m. on Sunday, June 1. It also listed five witnesses, including a woman who stated she had driven Joss and another person — presumably his husband, Tristan Kern de Gonzales, who previously claimed to be present — to obtain their mail. The woman allegedly sat in the car and waited for the pair, who were no longer living at the property after their house burned down. She further stated that she saw the suspect park his car 'directly behind her vehicle' and watched him and Joss 'argue' through her rearview mirror. Then, she alleged that the suspect 'said he had a gun and would shoot' the King of the Hill star before doing so. Joss, who was just 59, was pronounced dead at 7:20 p.m., according to EMS on the scene. Ceja was then arrested on a charge of first-degree murder. One day later, Gonzales posted a statement about the incident on Joss' Facebook page. 'My husband Jonathan Joss and I were involved in a shooting while checking the mail at the site of our former home,' he began. 'That home was burned down after over two years of threats from people in the area who repeatedly told us they would set it on fire. We reported these threats to law enforcement multiple times and nothing was done.' 'Throughout that time we were harassed regularly by individuals who made it clear they did not accept our relationship,' he continued. 'Much of the harassment was openly homophobic.' Gonzales went on to claim that he and Joss were in 'severe emotional distress' after discovering the skull of one of their pet dogs seemingly placed out for them to see. 'We began yelling and crying in response to the pain of what we saw," he explained. "While we were doing this a man approached us. He started yelling violent homophobic slurs at us. He then raised a gun from his lap and fired.' "Jonathan and I had no weapons," Gonzales noted. "We were not threatening anyone. We were grieving. We were standing side by side. When the man fired, Jonathan pushed me out of the way. He saved my life.' The post concluded: 'He was murdered by someone who could not stand the sight of two men loving. I was with him when he passed. I told him how much he was loved." 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. On Tuesday, June 3, the public information officer for the SAPD told PEOPLE that the department had not established a connection between the shooting and Joss' sexuality to indicate that a hate crime occurred. 'Our investigation has found no evidence whatsoever to indicate that the Mr. Joss's murder was related to his sexual orientation,' the statement read. 'We take such allegations very seriously and have thoroughly reviewed all available information. Should any new evidence come to light, we will charge the suspect accordingly.' Read the original article on People
Yahoo
12 hours ago
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
'King Of The Hill' Jonathan Joss' Husband Breaks Silence After Texas Fatal Shooting: 'He Saved My Life'
Jonathan Joss' husband, Tristan Kern de Gonzales, has broken his silence on what led to the entertainer's tragic passing. Following news of the beloved voice actor's death, his lover took to his Facebook page to honor his death and share his first-hand account of what he claims was a hate crime. Jonathan Joss took his final breath on Sunday, June 1, after a former neighbor reportedly brutally gunned him down. While authorities claim the actor died during a heated dispute, his husband begged to differ. Joss' lover penned a lengthy statement about what transpired between his late partner and their former neighbor. The couple had returned to the site of their old home, which was tragically destroyed in a house fire in January 2025. However, Gonzales claimed the incident happened two years after they endured arson threats from neighbors. According to Gonzales, he and Joss were not welcomed in the South Side area of Texas because of their same-sex relationship. Despite repeatedly reporting the persistent threats and harassment of their homophobic neighbors to authorities, nothing was done to prevent the escalation of bad blood until it was too late. When Gonzales and Joss returned to their former home to check their mail, they discovered the skull of one of their dogs with its harness placed in plain view. The gruesome display left them in "severe emotional distress," and they yelled and cried in pain. Unfortunately, their tears only fueled their former neighbor's anger. Gonzales noted they were approached by a man who "started yelling violent homophobic slurs" as they tried to process the shocking loss of their dog. He stressed that he and Joss did not provoke this man, nor did they threaten anyone. They had no weapons and were only grieving, but that was enough to set their former neighbor into a murderous rage. "When the man fired, Jonathan pushed me out of the way. He saved my life," Gonzales recalled. He stressed that he and Joss were newlyweds with a bright future, only for their dreams to be brutally cut short. "He was murdered by someone who could not stand the sight of two men loving each other. I was with him when he passed. I told him how much he was loved. To everyone who supported him, his fans, his friends, know that he valued you deeply. He saw you as family," Gonzales added. Gonzales' message ended with his vow to continue Joss' legacy, earning an outpouring of support from his late husband's fans. Many recalled their fond memories with the actor, while others penned their condolences to his grieving partner. "Oh, Tristen! I'm so very sorry!! I am just in shock. Jonathan was the sweetest man who would do anything for a stranger. He was an angel on Earth. You brought so much love and joy into his life at the moment he needed it most," a Facebook user wrote. Another echoed similar sentiments, noting they did not know Joss well but considered him their online friend thanks to his vibrant personality. "Omg, Tristan, my condolences go out to you. He was a dear friend to me. We grew up together since elementary school. He will truly be missed. People can be so cruel. Keeping you in my prayers," a third added. While Gonzales claimed Joss died from a homophobic attack, the San Antonio Police Department and eyewitnesses shared a different narrative. They claimed the late actor died after getting into a heated argument with a neighbor who repeatedly shot him in retaliation. The man, initially unidentified, escaped in a vehicle but was taken into custody by responding officers a block away from the crime scene. TMZ reported that paramedics rushed to Joss's side to provide medical assistance; however, they were unable to save him. Authorities later confirmed the shooter had been identified as a man named Sigfredo Alvarez Ceja. He was slammed with a murder charge and given a $200K bond. Joss was 59 when he died, taking his final breath six months before his 60th birthday on December 22. Joss was born in San Antonio in 1965, growing up to attend Gillette Elementary School, Harlandale ISD's McCollum High School, and Our Lady of Our Lake University. He pursued a career in the entertainment industry, with his acting credits dating back to the early 1990s. Some of his most famous projects include his time as a voice actor for the animated series "King of the Hill." He also starred as Kicking Wolf in "Comanche Moon" and as Ken Hotate on NBC's "Parks & Recreation." Outside entertainment, Joss created a line of barbecue rubs and spices under the brand "King of the Grill." On and off the screen, Joss lived a good life and earned the fruits of his impeccable character early this year. After losing his South Side home and two dogs in a fire, fans reportedly raised over $10,000 through a GoFundMe campaign to help him secure a new house, per MYSA. Hopefully, Jonathan Joss' shooter will get the justice he deserves, so the late actor and his husband can be at peace.
New York Post
12 hours ago
- Entertainment
- New York Post
'Sunset Blvd.' on Broadway Mandy Gonzales Norma Desmond interview
Vivid Seats is the New York Post's official ticketing partner. We may receive revenue from this partnership for sharing this content and/or when you make a purchase. Featured pricing is subject to change. A desperate young screenwriter stumbles into the mansion of a nearly forgotten actress. Fate unfolds, and the two rustle up a plan to rewrite her script — his chance at catching a break, and hers at reclaiming the spotlight (though, we're not sure if she noticed it was gone). You might think you know how that story ends, but Jamie Lloyd Wright's electric, theatrical revival of 'Sunset Blvd.' at the St. James Theatre stretches the imagination in ways we'd never expect. And, yes, there's still a love triangle — that ends in a pool of blood. If you haven't been yet, 'Sunset Blvd.,' which netted seven Tony nominations, runs Tuesday through Sundays at Broadway's St. James Theatre until July 13. As of now, tickets are available for all remaining performances. At the show we attended, Mandy Gonzales guest starred in Nicole Scherzinger's role as silent-film star Norma Desmond. She led the ensemble alongside Tom Francis who plays down-on-his-luck writer, Joe Gillis. Their performances are a blur between Broadway and film noir; thrilling, dark, foggy, sparingly staged, yet so fleet of foot you'll barely have time to blink. We spoke with Gonzales on manifesting her role in 'Sunset Blvd.,' how she resonated with Norma's fight to endure in a demanding industry, and the art of balancing acting and motherhood. 'As a woman in this industry, once we hit a certain age, (we're told) it's done. I think as women…we just get more and more interesting. I think that's the truth,' Gonzales teased while describing her character. Before unpacking 'Sunset Blvd.' with Gonzales, we had to find out exactly what the Tony-nominated show that's stopping traffic on 47th Street was all about, so we grabbed some seats at her May 20 performance. What we thought of 'Sunset Blvd.' on Broadway A slow burn has its place, but not here. Wright's characters leap into their roles sooner than the lights drop. Hannah Yun Chamberlain (young Norma) opens the show with an ethereal ballet — graceful, haunting, and a bit beguiling — her scenes float like memories in motion. Joe rises from a body bag in a flash of foreshadowing and Norma sweeps in with her first musical number, 'With One Look.' It's 1950s Hollywood. Joe's chasing a break, Norma's in need of a comeback, and the price is yet to be determined. An 18-piece orchestra hums under all of this, but for almost two hours and 35 minutes, it's mostly Gonzales and the rest of the cast who grip the audience, sprawling the stage with spinning, psychological choreography and spoken-sung-style vibrato that divulge Norma's delusions. There are no bad seats in the St. James. Line cameras track the actors for cinematic close-ups, mere inches from their faces, plastered across a slanted, larger-than-life screen behind. These intimate, raw projections magnify them under a lens, granting watchers access to every twitch of emotion — grief and desire, fear and isolation, Norma's spiraling obsession with Joe, and her fading career. It's a glimpse into her split reality. In Act II, the story doesn't pick up, but spills over and outside. Cameras chase Joe as he weaves down from the top of the dressing rooms, catching flickers of backstage banter, through chaotic corridors and dimly lit dressing rooms. By the time he reaches the ground, it's like you've brushed shoulders with the entire company. You begin to wonder, are you watching the play, or are you in it? The live sequence follows Joe and the cast as they transcend the theatre and take the streets of Times Square, where they belt 'Sunset Blvd.' to a crowd of unsuspecting tourists who just found free, front-row seats. It's loud, grand, and more than a bit voyeuristic. This is envelope-pushing art that can only be expected by an accomplished contemporary visionary, such as Jamie Lloyd. Without spoiling the story, we'll say that Norma and Joe do find a final moment under the lights, though the nature of this departing act wasn't what either had in mind when the curtains first drew back. And, with that, we couldn't wait to chat with the magnetic Gonzales about her work in the show, career and love of all things Broadway. What attracted you to the role of Norma Desmond in Sunset Blvd.? I grew up in California, and, for some reason, my public middle school was really awesome. For a field trip, they took us to see 'Sunset Blvd.' with Glenn Close… I think the following year we saw 'Phantom of the Opera' and I absolutely fell in love with Andrew Lloyd Webber's music. I loved Sunset Blvd. so much. We bought the cast album and I listened to it all the time. When you're a kid, and then your twenties and thirties — you're like 'oh, well, that kind of part seems too far away.' [So] when this came up, it was like 'yes, absolutely, I want to sing that!' and then when I met with Jamie Lloyd and saw how he was challenging me as an actress and a person, I just thought this is going to stretch me in my artistry… I would say I manifested it. I don't know, but maybe I did. Does Norma's story resonate with you on a personal level? Norma is definitely a fighter and a survivor. In my own life, I went through breast cancer in 2019 while acting in 'Hamilton' and wanted to show people I could still do it — like this was just a part of me, and wanting to fight and still be a part of things. Even though inside, it was a very dark place. I think that really helped me understand Norma. If you're in this business long enough, you go through so many ups and downs and so many people. I've been lucky that I've been in shows that have been hits, and shows that have been the biggest misses. One of those shows was my first original Broadway show, 'Dance of the Vampires,' which I starred in opposite Michael Crawford. I was about 23 years old, and the show was panned all around. At 23, I had somebody come up to me and say, 'well, you're probably going to leave the business now because this is it,' and it was just like, 'why would I do that— I've only just begun.' René Auberjonois, who was also in that show, said, 'the only place to go is up.' What did you learn from being told your career would be over at 23 years old? Back at that time, I was like 'why me,' but I look back and think that really taught me a sense of how strong I was. To read things about yourself, or about people you care about in a show, that are really horrible — it allows you to go, 'oh, I can either believe that or I can just keep going and keep fighting.' I think Norma is exactly like that. I think she is the ultimate warrior. Norma's a complicated character. How did you capture her emotions? She's not just a caricature. As I've gotten older, I see that more. Her vulnerability is real. She's always being watched by somebody in her mind. Whether the show is in her imagination or whether the show is really happening, I think that's a really beautiful thing, and nobody really knows. As women in this industry, once we hit a certain age (we're told), it's done. I think as women… we just get more and more interesting. I think that's the truth. When you're so isolated, and that's all Norma has — her career and her past — that can be a very dangerous thing. Norma never learned the balance of things, or how we try to balance different parts of our lives. She always put her career first. How did you practice for the close-ups on the screen? I come from a theatre background and worked in television and film. But theatre is what I love. During the rehearsal process, they had a small screen and they were rehearsing with the cameras, and there was one moment when I turned and was like, 'Oh, that's really close. That's very triggering.' As women, we look at ourselves and say, 'oh, there's that wrinkle, and there's that,' and Jamie just said, 'We never look into the screen. We never look at it,' and I have not looked at it. It's all coming from my heart. It's not coming from how I think I should pose, so I'll look better in front of the camera this way or that way. It's very freeing as a woman not to think about the screen. It's like not thinking about the mirror, and being like 'I am the most beautiful woman in the world.' Was there anyone in the cast you grew close to over the course of the production? Tom Francis. I was able to rehearse with the company for the first few weeks of rehearsal here in the States, so I was able to be Norma for everybody. Tom came in early, so we could work together and develop our show together, which I really loved and appreciated. He's so fantastic. It's really the entire company. That's what I love. I love community, I love putting it together. Eating lunch together. Hearing what everyone's talking about. I feel like it's a family and nothing happens on that stage without the other person. What about that pivotal scene where Joe leaves the theatre — how do they do that? Is it recorded? That's all live! I'm lucky. I just get to sit there on stage and watch it all happen, and I've watched through all of it. Through winter in New York, through snow, sleet, and rain… But, Tom… it amazes me every night that I get to see it. He's seamless. He makes it, he tells the story, and he gets those lyrics out. That's all live, the orchestra is playing live, and all the camera operators are out there. They have a great security team and he has people around him, so people won't come up to him and interfere with filming. It's just this thing that has never been done before, and it's thrilling. The way that Jamie Lloyd has used space, he's expanded beyond the theatre to create this story. That's what I love, pushing beyond the bounds of what we think is possible. I'm so impressed by actors who can flip between roles. How do you do that? We're women, and we multi-task very well, and I think it's just that. It's about survival, and when you're an actor, it's like, 'Oh, okay, like this is where the job is, and you've got to do it.' You've got to figure out a way to do it, to make it happen… You don't get home from the show until 11, and then you stay up until 2 in the morning, and then you've got to get up for your kid at 6. That's just part of it. When did you first get the Broadway itch? It started early for me because I had a grandmother who lived in the Valley, who loved musical theatre. She especially loved big Torch Singers, so I grew up listening to Judy Garland, Eydie Gorme, and Liza Minelli. I fell in love with any musical they were in because my grandma would play them for us, and I was really the only grandchild who sang back. My grandma was the one who said, 'Mandy has talent. She's really loud, and she's going to hurt herself, so we have to get her into lessons,' and little did she know that that loud voice would someday help me. What's next for you? I am going to be making my Carnegie Hall solo debut in the Fall. As well as with the Boston Pops, I will be with the New York Pops at Carnegie Hall. I am going to be doing a show that I created and have been working on with my dear friend Lin-Manuel Miranda's music catalog. Any other Broadway shows you've enjoyed recently? Any Tony's predictions? I just saw 'Buena Vista Social Club,' which I absolutely loved, and I think so many things about that show are just so incredible — from Saheem Ali's direction to Justin Peck and Patty Delgado's choreography. I also just saw 'Stranger Things,' which I thought was fantastic. The entire ensemble completely blew me away, as did the show's set design. Last question. Give us one word to describe Norma and one for Mandy. For Norma, I would say, limitless. For me, I would say fearless. This interview was lightly edited for length and clarity. Huge Broadway musicals Already seen 'Sunset Blvd?' Here are five more hit shows on the Great White Way you won't want to miss live these next few months. • 'Death Becomes Her' • 'Just In Time' • 'Maybe Happy Ending' • 'Buena Vista Social Club' • 'Dead Outlaw' What else is running in Midtown? Take a look at our list of all the biggest Tony-nominated shows going down on Broadway to find the one for you.
Yahoo
13 hours ago
- General
- Yahoo
King of the Hill actor Jonathan Joss killed in alleged homophobic shooting
Jonathan Joss, the voice actor behind John Redcord in King of the Hill, has been shot dead in what his husband alleges was a homophobic attack. Joss, who also appeared in shows like and ER, was killed on 1 June according to a statement posted to his Facebook page by his husband Tristan Kern de Gonzales. He was 59 years old at the time of his death. 'My husband Jonathan Joss and I were involved in a shooting while checking the mail at the site of our former home,' Gonzales wrote. 'That home was burned down after over two years of threats from people in the area who repeatedly told us they would set it on fire. We reported these threats to law enforcement multiple times and nothing was done. 'King Of The Hill' voice actor Jonathan Joss was murdered as the result of a homophobic hate crime, his husband says in new statement. — Pop Base (@PopBase) June 2, 2025 'Throughout that time we were harassed regularly by individuals who made it clear they did not accept our relationship. Much of the harassment was openly homophobic,' he wrote. Gonzales goes on to write that upon returning to their old home, the couple discovered the skull of their dog and its harness were left for them to see, causing them both 'severe emotional distress', leading them to yell and cry in response. 'While we were doing this a man approached us,' he explained. 'He started yelling violent homophobic slurs at us. He then raised a gun from his lap and fired. 'Jonathan and I had no weapons. We were not threatening anyone. We were grieving. We were standing side by side. When the man fired Jonathan pushed me out of the way. He saved my life.' In spite of Gonzales' claims, police in Texas say they are not certain the incident was the result of a , telling the : 'Despite online claims of this being a hate crime, currently the investigation has found no evidence to indicate that the Mr Joss's murder was related to his sexual orientation.' 'Jonathan is my husband. He gave me more love in our time together than most people ever get. We were newlyweds. We picked Valentines Day. We were in the process of looking for a trailer and planning our future,' Gonzales concluded. 'He was murdered by someone who could not stand the sight of two men loving each other.' The post King of the Hill actor Jonathan Joss killed in alleged homophobic shooting appeared first on Attitude.
