Latest news with #JohnMulaney
San Francisco Chronicle
14 hours ago
- Entertainment
- San Francisco Chronicle
At Emmys, love for 'Shrinking,' but nothing for Ted Danson and chilly goodbye for 'Handmaid's Tale'
As expected, Emmy voters heaped love on the so-called 'Big Four' of comedy — 'Hacks,' 'The Bear,' 'Abbott Elementary' and 'Only Murders in the Building.' Many of those competing in the drama categories were likely just happy the Emmy-gobbling 'Shogun' is between seasons. Emmy voters are creatures of habit but there were some happy differences this time around, like 'Matlock' star Kathy Bates becoming the oldest performer ever nominated in the lead drama actress category at age 77. And 'Severance,' which last year only won for dramatic score and title design, looks in better shape for its second season. The growing love for 'Shrinking' 'Shrinking,' AppleTV+ comedy about a group of funny, complicated therapists, didn't get much Emmy attention last year during its debut season, only getting two nominations for stars Jason Segel, a co-creator, and Jessica Williams. This time, 'Shrinking,' well, expanded — with seven nods, including best comedy and nods for Segel, Williams, Michael Urie and Harrison Ford's first Emmy nomination. Fallout from an act of violence 'Adolescence,' the Netflix four-part series which traces the emotional fallout after a U.K. teenage stabbing, became a sensation, a sort of 2025 version of 'Baby Reindeer,' and has earned a boatload of Emmy nominations, with 13. Owen Cooper, who plays the young attacker, became the youngest nominee in the history of his category — best supporting actor in a limited/anthology series or TV movie. The series was co-created and co-written by Stephen Graham, who also stars as the accused attacker's father, and earned a nomination for his work. 'Adolescence' reached No. 2 in Netflix's Top 10 most popular English-language series. Late night door is locked 'The Daily Show,' 'Jimmy Kimmel Live' and 'The Late Show With Stephen Colbert' filled up the outstanding talk series category, dashing hopes that newcomers might crash the party. Like John Mulaney's 'Everybody's Live With John Mulaney' on Netflix, which features a quirky mix of guests, the host doing odd things like fighting three 14-year-old-boys and an episode when Mulaney was completely in a blindfold. There's also the spicy wing YouTube interview series 'Hot Ones,' hosted by Sean Evans, which has attracted A-list talent and often pulls in an audience higher than the established network late night boys. Green light, now red-light The first season of 'Squid Game' became an international phenomenon after its release in 2021 and was embraced by the Television Academy the next year, racking up 14 Emmy nominations and winning six, including best actor for Lee Jung-jae. Three years later, the second season continued to captivate audiences, logging over 192 million views on Netflix. But not a single Emmy nomination went for its cutthroat look at life. 'The Handmaid's Tale' says goodbye, quietly After six harrowing, powerful seasons, Hulu's 'The Handmaid's Tale' ended it's exploration of an alternative America taken over by a totalitarian theocracy with a meek showing. The dystopian drama had garnered 76 nominations and 15 wins over its lifetime going into Tuesday's announcement — including a historic outstanding drama series win in its first season, the first ever for a streaming platform. But the series got a sole nomination Tuesday, for guest actress. It's a hard way to say goodbye to a series that was ranked as the 25th and 38th best TV series of the 21st century by The Guardian and BBC, respectively. TV voters love a good Hollywood satire 'The Studio" received 23 Emmy nominations — the most ever for a comedy series in its first season. Seth Rogen's critically acclaimed Apple TV+ series is about a Hollywood head struggling to balance his love of cinema with the mercenary demands of the market. Rogen got four individual nominations, including lead actor, writing and directing. The show mocks Hollywood's addiction to franchises and the explosive issue of diverse casting, with famous actors and filmmakers happily playing heightened versions of themselves. Five of the six guest actor nods went to the show, including to Bryan Cranston, Dave Franco, Ron Howard, Anthony Mackie and Martin Scorsese. Coldness for 'The Four Seasons' If Netflix thought combining Tina Fey and Steve Carell — two of the most Emmy-nominated comedic actors of the last 20 years — would lead to Emmy triumph, it thought wrong. Neither actor got a nod and the series only got one, for supporting actor Colman Domingo. The eight-episode relationship comedy is about three couples who are friends and meet up on four seasonal vacations throughout the year. Fey (45 career Emmy noms and nine wins as an actor, writer, and producer) and Carell (10 nominations) i 'Slow Horses' gathers speed The momentum seems to have continued for Apple TV+'s 'Slow Horses,' a critical darling that gained traction in the U.S. only last year, in the fourth season. That's when the show about lovable loser spies was added for the first time in the best drama series category. (So far, its only win is for writing.) This season, it earned five nods, including best drama, directing, casting, writing and for Gary Oldman, who leads the underdogs. Ga-ga for Goggins Walton Goggins is having quite a moment, earning back-to-back Emmy nominations. Last year it was for playing a ghoul on 'Fallout' and this year it is for his 'White Lotus' portrayal of the troubled Rick Hatchett. The Alabama-born, Georgia-raised actor has been around for over three decades, with memorable turns in blockbusters like 'Django Unchained' and 'Lincoln,' playing a spray-tanned, silver-streaked televangelist in 'The Righteous Gemstones' and hosting stint on NBC's "Saturday Night Live." 'Thank You God for All This Goggins,' said a headline in Vulture. Something off-pitch? 'The Voice' heard a sour note, missing a nomination in the reality competition category for the first time since 2012. The 26th season didn't have too many changes, with host Carson Daly returning, as well as judges Reba McEntire and Gwen Stefani. The new faces were debut coaches Michael Bublé and Snoop Dogg. The season's winner was Sofronio Vasquez, the show's first foreign male winner and second winner of Asian descent. 'The Voice' has been nominated for an Emmy every year since its second season in 2012 with wins in 2013, 2015, 2016 and 2017. But it will take a year off and watch one of the following shows take the crown: 'The Traitors,' 'RuPaul's Drag Race,' 'The Amazing Race,' 'Survivor' and 'Top Chef.' Ring her bell Kristen Bell has been a TV fixture for years — think 'Veronica Mars,' 'The Good Place' or 'Gossip Girl' — but has never gotten an Emmy nod — until now. In the Netflix romantic comedy series "Nobody Wants This," Bell plays an agnostic sex and dating podcaster who finds herself romantically drawn to a rabbi played by Adam Brody, who also earned a nod. Their on-screen chemistry and easy bantering has won over TV audiences and now Emmy voters. Noah Wyle scrubs in for a nod 'The Pitt,' a throwback medical drama that's like a mashup of 'ER' and '24,' has been a ratings hit — among the top three most-watched HBO Max titles ever — and now 13 Emmy nods. 'The Pitt' throws us into the chaos of the Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center and takes viewers hour-by-hour through a single shift overseen by Noah Wyle's Dr. Michael 'Robby' Robinavitch. Wyle, who also a producer and writer, earned his first Emmy nod in 26 years, back when he was on 'ER.' No cheers for Ted Danson Ted Danson, surprisingly, will not be able to extend his record for the most nominations — 14 — in the best comedy actor category this year. He already received Golden Globe and Screen Actors Guild Award nominations for his performance as Charles Nieuwendyk on the Netflix comedy 'A Man on the Inside.' Forbes called it 'one of the best shows of 2024' and Danson 'has never been better.' The Guardian said 'A Man on the Inside' was 'as good a vehicle as he has ever had.' It drew 12.4 million viewers, good enough for No. 14 on Nielsen's chart of most watched series that combines over-the-air, on demand or streaming.
Yahoo
2 days ago
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
Richard Kind Gets Candid About Body Image After Being Teased for Being Overweight as a Kid: 'In My Head, I'm a Fat Person'
Richard Kind is looking back at his childhood and getting candid about body image The Curb Your Enthusiasm star, 68, opened up in a new interview with CBS News Sunday Morning about what he used as a coping mechanism while growing up as a "fat" kid "Still a fat kid even to this day. I'll never be a thin person… In my head, I'm a fat, fat person," Kind said of his mindset all these years laterRichard Kind is getting candid about body image and how he learned to "laugh at myself" after being teased as a child. The 68-year-old actor, known for his work in Curb Your Enthusiasm and beyond, revealed in a new interview with CBS News Sunday Morning that he was teased growing up as an overweight boy. 'I was a fat kid,' Kind said. 'I bet I was a loser. I might have made fun of me." Now years later, Kind shared that it was a friend at summer camp who taught him what he said was "absolutely" a coping mechanism. As he explained, his friend — also overweight — encouraged him to "laugh at myself." "He was a fat kid, too, who then lost weight. I eventually lost weight," the actor said. "Still a fat kid even to this day. I'll never be a thin person… In my head, I'm a fat, fat person." Elsewhere in his conversation with CBS News Sunday Morning's Jon LaPook, Kind opened up about his place in television and film — as the announcer on Everybody's Live with John Mulaney, in Only Murders in the Building and even on the cast of Sharknado 2. As he put it, he's grateful to be in the room with other stars. "I am parsley on a plate of meat and potatoes," he joked. "Now, I'm good. I look great there. I'm the freshest parsley! But they're meat and potatoes. What do I do? I help make the plate look great." 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. "That's fine. That's what I usually do," he added. "But I can be cut out. I'm just not necessary all the time. And I'm fine, fine, fine with that. I've made a career of it, haven't I?" Along the way, Kind also made friends with George Clooney. He recently discussed their longtime friendship on the June 9 episode of the Still Here Hollywood Podcast with Steve Kmetko, emphasizing Clooney's reputation as a prankster in the movie business. Asked to share some stories, Kind replied, 'But you will not hear them from me. You won't hear them from me for a couple of reasons. No. 1, George gets all the publicity he needs. I need a little more. So that's the first thing. The second thing is nobody tells them funnier than George.' Still, Kind called out his pal — whom he met while working on a failed '80s TV pilot — for a practical joke he'd 'forgotten' until recently. 'One night, years ago, I have to go to Vegas for some publicity,' Kind recalled, noting that he was staying at Clooney's old Los Angeles home at the time. 'I have my suitcase downstairs and [I'm] waiting for the car to come.' 'George, who had been in the kitchen or something like that, sits down at the foot of the stairs, and we're just chatting. We're gabbing,' Kind recalled. 'And I say, 'Oh, I forgot something,' and I go upstairs to get something. I come back downstairs, and then the car comes, and the guy who's driving the car takes the bag, and he puts it into the trunk, and I get driven to Burbank Airport, I think.' It wasn't until Kind went through airport security that Clooney's prank came to fruition. 'They pull me aside and they go, 'Sir, could you come here, please?' And I go, 'Yeah.' And he opens up the suitcase, and there's an Oscar and a SAG award that George put in my suitcase as we were waiting to go, and I have to schlep.' 'It's a good practical joke,' Kind added. Read the original article on People
ABC News
3 days ago
- Entertainment
- ABC News
'There's a horse loose in a hospital': What John Mulaney gets right about (non-)political comedy
Could a stand-up routine ever rise to the level of 'art' — the kind of performance that rewards multiple viewings, whose humour grows and deepens, which contains subtleties waiting to be discovered? A sketch certainly can. Just think of Abbott and Costello's 'Who's on First?' from 1944, or the trial of Ravelli in the Marx Brothers' Duck Soup from 1933, or Peter Cook and Dudley Moore's 'One Leg Too Few' from 1964. With each new viewing, the comedic timing, the precision and cleverness of the puns, the exaggerated physicality, the sheer virtuosity of the writing cannot help but surprise and delight all over again. But with most stand-up, the humour arises from a certain immediacy: the interaction between the material and the peculiarity of the times in which it is delivered, and between the comedian and the physical audience. The frisson that arises from that interaction, the shock or surprise the comedian is able to elicit, is hard to re-experience to the same degree. It stands to reason, then, that if a stand-up act was to endure as a piece of comedic art, it would most likely be performed by a comedian who cut his teeth while working as a sketch writer for a show like Saturday Night Live . Enter John Mulaney. There is something undeniably enduring, timeless even, about his Netflix special 'Kid Gorgeous at Radio City'. It was recorded in 2017 — in the aftermath of Trump's first election to the US presidency, when public bewilderment was still offset somewhat by the belief it wouldn't last long — and won an Emmy for Outstanding Writing for a Variety Special in 2018. Mulaney's act exhibits a strange sort of genius, though. It is obviously a piece of writing. Indeed, he explicitly references the act of comedic writing throughout the routine. Mulaney is also assiduously non-political — right up until the moment that he isn't. It begins with a nostalgic nod: 'I just like old-fashioned things. I was in Connecticut recently, doing white people stuff …' He makes reference to the oddity of coming across a gazebo that was 'built by the town in 1863': 'Building a gazebo during the Civil War, that'd be like doing stand-up comedy now.' And then he embarks on a metaphor for the Trump presidency that has been hailed by many as genius: 'Here's how I try to look at it, and this is just me, this guy being the president, it's like there's a horse loose in a hospital …' The aesthetic connection between Donald Trump's golden coiff and a horse's mane is, of course, immediately pleasing. As is the invocation of something heedless thundering through a finely tuned environment. There's the added benefit that Trump's name is not mentioned once, and yet the entire simile works. The question is … why? Guest: Sam Taunton is an Australian comedian and television presenter.
The Guardian
4 days ago
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
There's an art to staging a comeback. But the best artists know when it's time to take a pause
When the comedian Marc Maron announced he would soon end his pioneering interview podcast WTF – famed over nearly 16 years for hosting fellow comedians, wider celebrities and even Barack Obama (when he was more president than content creator) in his garage – he said something you don't often hear: 'It's OK for things to end.' In the time of the relentless scroll, culture often feels like it is drowning in cynical money grabs, nostalgia, franchises and 'IP rentierism'. Bands, TV shows and film concepts are either never-ending or ever-repeating. It was refreshing, then, to see something stop in such a poised manner rather than descend into irrelevance and indifference. Maron gave no major reason for quitting beyond that he and his producer were a bit burnt out and it was the right moment. 'I don't think we live in a time where people of my generation and slightly older know how to move on from anything or stop,' he said. Regardless of the manner of the ending, though, there is often an urge to return – be it out of financial need, creative desire, sheer boredom or some sense of unfinished business. Maron's guest when the departure was announced was the comedian John Mulaney, who responded: 'If you miss it and you want to come back … just come back,' he said. 'I sometimes feel bad for people that feel trapped by their finale.' No one is really keeping score of the comings and goings, though for a long time I think I was overly invested. I wanted to resist the plethora of reunions, particularly in music and TV, that have littered the last two decades. There has been a deadening sense of stagnation. More directly, the comebacks could often be dispiriting: a group of tired-faced older people vainly chasing their shadows to cash a cheque. But as Mulaney suggested, the comeback offers new possibilities. And even if it falls flat, intrigue abounds. I asked a few friends what they made of the Sex and the City reboot, And Just Like That, which, now in its third season, elicits unusual responses. They all say it is absolutely terrible, a shadow of its former self, and yet perplexingly compelling. They are watching every new episode. Many reunion audiences, meanwhile, just want to relive the magic – or experience it for the first time. It's hard to quibble with the sentiment. Even the most fervent Britpop idealist doesn't think Liam and Noel Gallagher revived Oasis because the brothers missed spending time together. As many pointed out, the starting pistol for the band's reunion might have been fired when Noel announced his divorce in January 2023. There is a lot of money to be made in their tour. Though, given the price gouging, a little bit too much money. But as the mass singalongs and pints-in-the-air hysteria at their first gigs in Cardiff last week showed, there is a huge amount of fun to be had in communing together, singing along to songs that, while 30-odd years old, remain timeless. My own resolve about comebacks softened sometime after LCD Soundsystem returned in 2016. James Murphy's group had initially disbanded in 2011 with a grand farewell concert at Madison Square Garden (the moment was preserved in a lavish documentary). For a band so self-reflexive and studied in its references, a 'hell freezes over' reunion tour was probably inevitable. But the speed at which this was happening – only five years! – seemed cynical, almost insulting. It looked like a blot on what they had previously achieved. Reluctantly I went to one of their 2017 reunion shows, and well, it was great. What I realised was that being overly precious about reunions and revivals was ultimately pointless: the whole rhythm of how they came, went and then came back again was a bit of an artificial construct anyway. If new shows give lots of fans a chance to see them play and provide pleasure, there's nothing wrong with that. LCD Soundsystem released a 'comeback' album in 2017. It's fine. There is a handful of strong songs on it, but their vital moment had passed. However, the idea of tarnishing an earlier legacy is somewhat arbitrary – one great piece of art doesn't necessarily get diminished because a later related piece of art isn't at the same level. I have no interest in watching a second of the Frasier revival that emerged in 2023, somehow including Nick Lyndhurst. It has now been cancelled, but regardless, it couldn't spoil any Channel 4 morning commune with the original series of Seattle's finest radio psychotherapist (itself, of course, a spin-off from Cheers). Often when a band returns, their new music sounds like some required throat-clearing to help justify further tours. I was surprised then to find I loved Pulp's recent comeback single, Spike Island. It was a track of wit and invention that stood comfortably alongside their best work. The ensuing album More stands up to repeated listens too. A well-timed revival can offer something new. And yet I remain drawn to the elegant and elongated pause. By all accounts Maron has no intention of retiring, with various projects on the boil beyond his podcast. But there is a certain grace in calmly walking away from the work that defined you. The once-behemoth alt-rock band REM amicably called it a day in 2011 after a series of albums with diminishing returns. It's striking how absent the band are from culture now, given how big they were just a few decades earlier. Amid constant rounds of 80s and 90s nostalgia, surely there have been some lucrative reunion tour offers. Yet aside from the occasional interview and impromptu performance, there has been nothing. For me, the group's frontman, Michael Stipe, has had one of the great post-band semi-retirements. If Instagram is a guide – and that platform is an entirely accurate representation of life – he seems to have spent the last decade doing assorted creative projects, some political activism, visiting friends' art shows around the world and generally just having a lovely old time (although he did delete all his posts in early 2025). Granted, there's been a more vexed attempt to make a solo album, long in gestation. But he's a model of the form – if you can afford it, of course. Perhaps the key isn't whether you return or not – it's knowing when to pause when you've run out of creative energy, space or time. The audience can decide on the rest. Larry Ryan is a freelance writer and editor
The Guardian
4 days ago
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
There's an art to staging a comeback. But the best artists know when it's time to take a pause
When the comedian Marc Maron announced he would soon end his pioneering interview podcast WTF – famed over nearly 16 years for hosting fellow comedians, wider celebrities and even Barack Obama (when he was more president than content creator) in his garage – he said something you don't often hear: 'It's OK for things to end.' In the time of the relentless scroll, culture often feels like it is drowning in cynical money grabs, nostalgia, franchises and 'IP rentierism'. Bands, TV shows and film concepts are either never-ending or ever-repeating. It was refreshing, then, to see something stop in such a poised manner rather than descend into irrelevance and indifference. Maron gave no major reason for quitting beyond that he and his producer were a bit burnt out and it was the right moment. 'I don't think we live in a time where people of my generation and slightly older know how to move on from anything or stop,' he said. Regardless of the manner of the ending, though, there is often an urge to return – be it out of financial need, creative desire, sheer boredom or some sense of unfinished business. Maron's guest when the departure was announced was the comedian John Mulaney, who responded: 'If you miss it and you want to come back … just come back,' he said. 'I sometimes feel bad for people that feel trapped by their finale.' No one is really keeping score of the comings and goings, though for a long time I think I was overly invested. I wanted to resist the plethora of reunions, particularly in music and TV, that have littered the last two decades. There has been a deadening sense of stagnation. More directly, the comebacks could often be dispiriting: a group of tired-faced older people vainly chasing their shadows to cash a cheque. But as Mulaney suggested, the comeback offers new possibilities. And even if it falls flat, intrigue abounds. I asked a few friends what they made of the Sex and the City reboot, And Just Like That, which, now in its third season, elicits unusual responses. They all say it is absolutely terrible, a shadow of its former self, and yet perplexingly compelling. They are watching every new episode. Many reunion audiences, meanwhile, just want to relive the magic – or experience it for the first time. It's hard to quibble with the sentiment. Even the most fervent Britpop idealist doesn't think Liam and Noel Gallagher revived Oasis because the brothers missed spending time together. As many pointed out, the starting pistol for the band's reunion might have been fired when Noel announced his divorce in January 2023. There is a lot of money to be made in their tour. Though, given the price gouging, a little bit too much money. But as the mass singalongs and pints-in-the-air hysteria at their first gigs in Cardiff last week showed, there is a huge amount of fun to be had in communing together, singing along to songs that, while 30-odd years old, remain timeless. My own resolve about comebacks softened sometime after LCD Soundsystem returned in 2016. James Murphy's group had initially disbanded in 2011 with a grand farewell concert at Madison Square Garden (the moment was preserved in a lavish documentary). For a band so self-reflexive and studied in its references, a 'hell freezes over' reunion tour was probably inevitable. But the speed at which this was happening – only five years! – seemed cynical, almost insulting. It looked like a blot on what they had previously achieved. Reluctantly I went to one of their 2017 reunion shows, and well, it was great. What I realised was that being overly precious about reunions and revivals was ultimately pointless: the whole rhythm of how they came, went and then came back again was a bit of an artificial construct anyway. If new shows give lots of fans a chance to see them play and provide pleasure, there's nothing wrong with that. LCD Soundsystem released a 'comeback' album in 2017. It's fine. There is a handful of strong songs on it, but their vital moment had passed. However, the idea of tarnishing an earlier legacy is somewhat arbitrary – one great piece of art doesn't necessarily get diminished because a later related piece of art isn't at the same level. I have no interest in watching a second of the Frasier revival that emerged in 2023, somehow including Nick Lyndhurst. It has now been cancelled, but regardless, it couldn't spoil any Channel 4 morning commune with the original series of Seattle's finest radio psychotherapist (itself, of course, a spin-off from Cheers). Often when a band returns, their new music sounds like some required throat-clearing to help justify further tours. I was surprised then to find I loved Pulp's recent comeback single, Spike Island. It was a track of wit and invention that stood comfortably alongside their best work. The ensuing album More stands up to repeated listens too. A well-timed revival can offer something new. And yet I remain drawn to the elegant and elongated pause. By all accounts Maron has no intention of retiring, with various projects on the boil beyond his podcast. But there is a certain grace in calmly walking away from the work that defined you. The once-behemoth alt-rock band REM amicably called it a day in 2011 after a series of albums with diminishing returns. It's striking how absent the band are from culture now, given how big they were just a few decades earlier. Amid constant rounds of 80s and 90s nostalgia, surely there have been some lucrative reunion tour offers. Yet aside from the occasional interview and impromptu performance, there has been nothing. For me, the group's frontman, Michael Stipe, has had one of the great post-band semi-retirements. If Instagram is a guide – and that platform is an entirely accurate representation of life – he seems to have spent the last decade doing assorted creative projects, some political activism, visiting friends' art shows around the world and generally just having a lovely old time (although he did delete all his posts in early 2025). Granted, there's been a more vexed attempt to make a solo album, long in gestation. But he's a model of the form – if you can afford it, of course. Perhaps the key isn't whether you return or not – it's knowing when to pause when you've run out of creative energy, space or time. The audience can decide on the rest. Larry Ryan is a freelance writer and editor
